#and the time to do something like this but better

[lostfracturess]

REMEMBER ME IN SUMMER — SATORU GOJO

pairing — one night stand!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary — six months ago, you left satoru gojo's apartment before sunrise, thinking you'd never see him again. now, trapped in a beach house for a weekend with mutual friends, you're forced to face the man who doesn't seem to remember that night—or does he? between shared walls, heated touches, and games of pretend, you're starting to think maybe one night wasn't enough after all. but in a house full of friends, some things are better left in the past… right?

word count — 9.5 k

genre/tags — beach house AU, summer romance, one night stand to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, tension, awkward reunions, friends gathering, miscommunication, beach vibes, satoru is a little menace in this one

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, alcohol consumption, all characters aged up (mid 20s), language

author's note — hi everyone ! this fic came out of nowhere, and i literally wrote it in three days, but i really love the idea and the summer vibes in this one, even tho i wrote it while it was literally snowing outside, but somewhere on earth it's summer rn, so why not post it lol. hope you enjoy this mess of a summer romance story as much as i enjoyed writing it ! <3 (credit/art)

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The last person you expected to see in Okinawa was Satoru Gojo.

Yet there he was, lounging on the deck of the beach house like he belonged there, white hair catching the sunlight as he laughed at something someone had said. Your heart tumbled over itself as memories of that night six months ago flooded back unbidden.

"You okay?" Maki nudged you with her elbow. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

More like the ghost of past bad decisions. "I'm fine," you managed, gripping your weekend bag tighter. "Wasn't expecting so many people."

The beach house was supposed to be a simple weekend getaway with close friends. But somewhere between planning and execution, it had turned into a "friends of friends" situation to fill the eight-bedroom house Okkotsu's family had offered.

"Yeah, Yuta's cousin's boyfriend invited some people to fill the space," Maki explained, completely unaware of your internal crisis. "That's Satoru over there, by the way. He's actually pretty fun once you get past the whole—" She gestured vaguely at all of him.

You wanted to laugh. Or cry. Maybe both. Because you were already very familiar with how "fun" Satoru Gojo could be.

Six months ago, you'd met him at a bar in Tokyo. He'd been charming and gorgeous, all easy smiles and playful banter. One drink had turned into several, flirting had turned into kissing, and kissing had turned into...

Well.

You'd slipped out of his apartment before dawn, leaving nothing but a lipstick stain on his collar and a dip in his pillow. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time. You weren't looking for anything serious, and someone like him definitely wasn't the settling down type.

Now, watching him chat lively with your friends like the universe's cruelest joke, you wondered if you should have at least left your number.

"Girl," Maki waved her hand in front of your face. "You sure you're okay?"

Before you could answer, Satoru looked up. His eyes met yours across the deck, and for a moment, your heart stopped. 

But there was no recognition in those sea blue eyes. No hint that he remembered the way you'd gasped his name in the dark, the way his hands had traced every inch of your skin, the way he'd whispered "stay" against your shoulder just before you'd fallen asleep.

He just smiled politely, the same smile he’s probably giving everyone else too, and went back to his conversation.

Right. Of course he didn't remember. You were probably just one in a long line of one-night stands for someone like him. The thought shouldn't hurt as much as it did.

"Come on," Maki said, tugging you towards the house. "Let's get settled in before the others arrive.”

Up close, the beach house was even more impressive. A sprawling three-story mansion of white stone and floor-to-ceiling windows that caught the afternoon light like rippling water, a wraparound veranda with a cozy sitting area led to a private path down to the beach, lined with swaying palms and colourful flowers.

Inside, the house opened into a huge room with soaring ceilings and an open floor plan that made the space feel endless. Ocean views followed you everywhere through the massive windows, and the whole place smelled of salt and lemon.

"The bedrooms are upstairs," Maki said as she led you up a floating staircase. "Most of them are on the second floor, but there are two master bedrooms on the third."

The universe, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humor. Not only did you have to spend the weekend pretending you didn’t know how Satoru's brows draw together when he'd cum, but your room ended up right next to his—the two largest bedrooms on the top floor, sharing a wall and a connecting balcony. Of course.

Your room was bigger than your entire apartment in Tokyo, with a king-size bed draped in soft white linens. One wall was entirely glass, offering an unobstructed view of the ocean, while the other walls were decorated with pictures and minimalist art.

"My god, the view’s amazing!" Maki gushed and threw open the balcony doors. The sound of waves immediately filled the room, along with fresh, salty ocean air. "You can see the whole beach from here." 

But you were too busy staring at the wall next to you, where a door that must lead to Satoru's room was hidden behind a cupboard. You could hear muffled movement from his room, the sound of his laugh drifting through the wall that suddenly felt far too thin and your mind helpfully supplied memories of other sounds he could make, and you wondered if it was too late to fake some sudden illness and go home.

"Yeah," you said, dropping onto the edge of the bed. "Amazing."

Maki flopped down beside you, bouncing slightly on the plush mattress. "I know I've been here like five times already with Yuta, but it never gets old." She rolled onto her stomach and rested her chin on her hands. "Usually it's just us and his family, maybe a few cousins. This is the first time we're doing a friend group thing."

You tried to focus on her words instead of the sound of suitcases being wheeled into the room next door. "How long have you and Yuta been coming here?"

"Since we started dating three years ago. His family does this whole summer tradition thing." She smiled. "First time I came, I was so nervous I barely left the room. Now it feels like a second home." She sat up, crossing her legs. “And since his parents said we could use it this weekend, we thought why not invite friends.”

Through the wall, you could hear male voices chatting and laughing, followed by the sound of a door sliding open. Probably the balcony doors. Your shared balcony. Where he could walk past your windows at any time.

“You’re okay with this, right? Yuta’s friends are actually really fun once you get to know them. Especially Satoru, even tho he can be a pain in the ass.” Your stupid heart tumbled over itself once more at his name. "And single, if you're interested. I could—"

"No!" The word came out louder than intended, and you heard the conversation next door pause briefly. Lowering your voice, you added, "I mean, no thanks. Not really looking for anything right now."

Maki gave you a strange look. "You sure you're okay? You've been weird since we got here."

"Just tired from the drive," you lied and stood up. "Maybe I'll take a quick shower before everyone else arrives."

"Okay..." She didn't sound convinced but got up anyway. "I should go find Yuta anyway, make sure he's not letting Satoru destroy any of Yuta's mum's favourite vases."

You waited until she left before falling with your face first onto the bed with a groan. Perfect. Not only did you have to spend the weekend next door to your one night stand who might or might not remember you, but now your best friend was trying to set you up with him.

Through the wall, you heard Satoru laugh at something, the sound familiar enough to make your chest ache. 

It was going to be a very long weekend.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 

You'd barely finished unpacking when Yuji burst into your room without knocking. "Hey! We're setting up a net for beach volleyball. You in?"

"Ah, I don't really—"

"Everyone's playing!" He was already on his way back to the door. "Even Megumi, and you know how he is about fun."

Before you could form a proper excuse, Maki appeared behind him. "Come on, it'll be fun, the sun is out and it’s better than hiding up here all afternoon."

And that's how you found yourself trudging down to the beach, trying to convince yourself this was fine. Totally fine. Just a fun game of volleyball with friends. Nothing to worry about.

But then the boys started stripping off their shirts. It was like watching some ridiculous scene out of Top Gun as they all shed their shirt in the afternoon heat. But it was Satoru who made your brain go silent completely. 

He pulled his shirt off, and suddenly you were having vivid flashbacks to exactly how that toned chest felt under your hands. The sun caught his hair like a halo, and when he stretched his arms over his head, the muscles in his back shifted in ways that should not make your knees so weak, but here you were, rooted to the spot, your pulse racing as if it had a mind of its own.

"You're staring," Maki whispered next to you.

"I'm not," you said, even though you definitely were. How could you not? It was like someone had taken every beach volleyball scene from every summer movie ever and combined them into one ridiculous moment.

Teams were forming, and with an uneven number, you volunteered to sit this round out. Not that you were particularly eager to participate in the first place. You were perfectly happy watching from the safety of your beach towel, where the risk of accidentally brushing against Satoru's unnecessarily perfect body was thankfully minimized.

The game started, and it quickly became clear that everyone was taking it way too seriously, as Satoru and Yuji seemed to be in some sort of competition to see who could spike the ball more impressively. 

"Show off," you muttered to yourself as Satoru delivered a rather dramatic jump serve, the ball landing dangerously close to your foot. But he must have heard you, because he caught your eye with a wink that made your stomach flutter. "Like what you see?"

"I've seen better," you said before you could stop yourself.

His eyebrows shot up and a slow smile spread across his face. "Have you now?"

Oh god. Were you flirting? This was definitely flirting. You needed to stop staring at the way sweat was making his skin glisten and focus on... literally anything else.

"Pay attention!" Nobara yelled, and Satoru barely managed to dodge the ball she'd spiked directly at his head.

The game continued, growing more competitive with each round. You had to admit, it was entertaining watching your friends become more and more dramatic with each point. One of Yuta’s cousins and Yuji had some sort of rivalry going on, while Maki and Nobara were trash-talking each other.

But it was Satoru who kept drawing your attention. The way he moved was almost unfair and you found yourself following the drops of sweat as they made their way down his neck, remembering how that skin had tasted under your tongue.

"Incoming!"

You looked up just in time to see the volleyball heading straight for your face. Before you could react, Satoru dove in front of you and caught the ball just inches from your nose. The movement sent him sprawling across your legs, his face entirely too close to yours.

You blinked at him for a few moments, then whispered, "Thank you.” But the words came out too soft, almost like they had that night in Tokyo when he'd helped you into a taxi and then convinced you not to take it and instead come home with him.

Time seemed to slow, the crashing waves and voices of the others fading into white noise as Satoru's eyes met yours. For a moment, something flickered in those blue depths—a flash of recognition, perhaps even remembrance. 

His breath caught, barely noticeable, and his hand on your leg tightened ever so slightly. You watched his eyes, saw the exact moment his gaze dropped to your lips, and suddenly you were back in that Tokyo bar, both of you caught in that same magnetic pull.

"You're welcome," he said, his voice so low that only you could hear it. There was something in his tone, a hint of question, like he was trying to place a hazy dream. His thumb brushed against your skin, possibly by accident, possibly not, sending shivers up your spine.

The moment stretched, taut as a bowstring, thick with shared memories—memories you weren't even sure he had. Then someone yelled "Dinner!" from the direction of the house, and the spell broke.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

The sun was setting by the time everyone had showered and gathered around the huge dining table on the deck. Fairy lights twinkled overhead and the sound of the waves could be heard in the background as the chaos of fifteen people trying to organize a meal unfolded.

You'd taken extra care getting ready, telling yourself it was just because of the salt and sand, not because of the way Satoru had looked at you on the beach. You'd chosen a light summer dress that happened to be the exact shade of blue as his eyes—pure coincidence, of course—and had let your hair dry naturally in the sea breeze.

Yuta ended up ordering way too much from the local seafood restaurant, you concluded as you surveyed the spread of food on the table. 

You ended up squeezed between Maki and Megumi, which should have been a relief. Instead, you found yourself very aware of Satoru sitting directly across from you, his hair still slightly damp from his shower, wearing a loose white linen shirt that he should really button up and stop teasing the entire table with glimpses of his toned chest.

"Pass the crab?" he asked, and when you handed him the plate, your fingers brushed. The contact sent a shiver through you, and you could have sworn you saw his breath catch. But then he was turning to laugh at something Yuji said, and you were left wondering if you'd imagined the whole thing.

"—and then he just fell face first right into the sand!" Yuji was saying, gesturing wildly with his chopsticks. "You should have seen it!"

"We were all there, literally two hours ago," Megumi deadpanned.

"The game was rigged anyway," Nobara said, reaching for another plate of grilled shrimp. "You can't put Mr. Perfect over here on a team and expect it to be fair." She jerked her thumb in Satoru's direction.

"What can you do?" Satoru said, his eyebrows knitted together, but a grin played on his lips. "I just happen to be naturally gifted." And then his eyes caught yours once more across the table. 

Heat crept up the back of your neck as you remembered how he'd felt when he'd sprawled across your legs, his skin sun warm and slightly sandy. How his touch had lingered just a fraction too long to be casual. 

Something had changed in his expression, so subtle that anyone else might have missed it. But you'd spent hours that night memorizing his faces. His smirk when he had you right on the edge, his soft smile when you were trembling beneath him, the way his eyes darkened just before he—

Maki snorted. "Yeah, sure." And you looked over at her, breaking the eye contact before you could do something stupid like climb across the table and find out if he tasted as good as you remembered.

When the dinner was over, Nobara suggested to play drinking games, truth or dare to be specific, to which "What are we, fifteen?" Megumi commented but Maki already chimed in with "Never ever I ever" and so it was decided.

Your stomach dropped. The last thing you needed was a drinking game where people confessed their secrets. Especially with the way Satoru kept looking at you, like he was one memory away from connecting dots you really didn't want connected.

"I think I'll pass," you said, pushing your plate away. "The sun really did take it out of me."

You gathered your plates and the sound of the others setting up their drinking game followed you into the kitchen—Yuji's voice carrying over everyone else's as he argued about rules, Nobara shouting something about "no questions about exes," and Megumi's long drawn out sighs.

A salty ocean breeze swept into the kitchen through the open wall of windows overlooking the water as you rinsed your plate. "You know," a voice came from behind you, making you jump, "I was starting to think you hate me."

Your heart skipped a beat. You didn't need to turn around to know it was Satoru—would recognize that voice anywhere, had spent months trying to forget how it sounded when it was rough after he’d cum. But you turned anyway, finding him leaning against the doorframe and the kitchen suddenly felt so much smaller. 

"What?" The word came out embarrassingly breathless.

"Let me rephrase, for someone who doesn't hate me, you're doing an impressive job of avoiding me."

"I'm not avoiding you.” You turned back to the sink. "I'm doing dishes."

"Sure. The dishes." His voice got closer, and you could feel the heat of him just behind you. "Though I have to wonder why someone would work so hard to avoid someone they've never met before."

Your hands stilled under the running water. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You've barely looked at me all day." He was close enough now that you could smell his perfume that had lingered on your clothes for days after that night. "Want to tell me what I did to deserve the cold shoulder? Because usually, I at least remember if I've pissed someone off."

Your heart pounded so loudly you were sure he could hear it, but at the same time the irony of his words made you want to laugh. "You haven't done anything," you said, which was technically true. He hadn't done anything wrong. Except maybe be too good in bed and then forget about it entirely.

"No?" His voice dropped lower, and you could feel his breath on your neck. "Then why—" He cut himself off. "Wait. Have we met before?"

You spun around, hands dripping water onto the floor. The motion brought you chest to chest with him, trapped between his body and the counter. "No," you said, too quickly, way too quickly. "Definitely not."

"You sure about that? Because you seem familiar—"

"Must just have one of those faces."

He moved closer still, one hand braced on the counter beside your hip, effectively caging you in. "Is that so? Because I’m sure I’d remember a pretty one like yours." You felt your breath catch in your throat, every nerve in your body screaming. He was going to kiss you, wasn't he? You should probably do something. Like move. Or breathe.

But then he simply stepped back, his smile widening. "Sorry. Must have mistaken you for someone else,” he said and the loss of his warmth felt like whiplash, leaving you cold despite the summer heat that still lingered in the air. You watched him retreat towards the door, casual as anything, like he hadn't just turned your world sideways.

Through the open door, laughter spilled in from the deck, breaking the spell that had held you captive. Satoru paused in the doorway for a moment, silhouetted against the warm light from outside, before disappearing back into the noise of your friends.

You stayed at the sink, trying to convince yourself that the heat in your cheeks was just from the summer air and ignoring the way your heart refused to settle in your chest. What had just happened? You had no idea. But one thing was painfully certain.

This weekend was going to be a long one.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Next morning, you decided to get up early and have your coffee on the beach before anyone else was awake. Sleep had been hard to come by anyway, with too many thoughts of certain one night stands keeping your mind racing. 

Dawn was just beginning to break over the horizon, painting the sky in orange and gold watercolours and the ocean stretched out before you, quiet and calm, each small wave catching the early light like diamonds.

You'd wrapped yourself in an oversized cardigan against the morning chill, bare feet buried in sand that was still cool from the night before. And of course, because the universe hated you, that's when Satoru appeared.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, settling into the sand beside you without invitation.

You clutched your coffee mug tighter. "Something like that."

"Yeah, me neither." He stretched his long legs out in front of him, and you definitely didn't notice how his shorts rode up slightly, definitely weren't thinking about how those thighs had felt under your hands. "Keep having these weird dreams."

"Oh?"

"Mmm." As he turned to look at you, the rising sun painted his profile gold, catching his eyelashes. There was something different about him in this light — softer somehow, more like the man who'd asked you to stay than the one who'd cornered you in the kitchen last night. "About a girl in a black dress. Red lipstick. The most amazing laugh I've ever heard."

Your heart stopped.

"Funny thing is," he continued casually, "I can never quite see her face in the dreams. But I remember how she tasted. How she felt pinned beneath me. How she clenching around my fingers. How she said my name when she—"

"Stop," you whispered.

"Why?" His voice was softer now. "Because you don't want to talk about that night? Or because you thought I wouldn't remember?"

You stared at the ocean, unable to meet his gaze. "You didn't seem to yesterday."

"Don’t be stupid. I recognized you the moment you walked into the beach house."

Your coffee nearly slipped from your hands. "What?"

"Did you really think I wouldn't remember the girl who stole my favourite shirt on her way out the door?"

Heat flooded your cheeks, you totally forgotten about the shirt. "Then yesterday, in the kitchen—"

"I wanted to see how long you'd keep pretending." He smiled, the bastard had the audacity to smile at you when he revealed that he was playing you the whole time. "You're cute when you're nervous, you know that?”

"You're mocking me."

"Mocking you?" His eyebrows rose. Then he leaned closer to you, but you still refused to look at him. "I spent six months trying to find the girl with the kind of laugh that makes you feel drunk just hearing it, who left before I could ask for her number—" 

"It was just one night," you interrupted.

"Was it? Because I distinctly remember asking you to stay."

"I couldn't."

"Couldn't? Or wouldn't?"

You finally met his gaze fully, and immediately wished you hadn't. Because he was looking at you the same way he had that night. He was enjoying this, wasn't he? Playing with you, teasing you, making you feel like a flustered schoolgirl. 

"Does it matter?" you asked.

"You're really a bit slow, aren't you?"

You wanted to protest, to tell him exactly what you thought of his arrogant everything, but then Maki's voice carried across the beach, "Breakfast! Come and get it before Yuji eats everything!"

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

The breakfast table was just as chaotic as the dinner the night before. Fifteen people crammed around the table had that effect, especially with Yuji already piling his plate high with pancakes while Nobara complained about him taking too many. 

You'd barely settled into an empty chair when Satoru slid into the seat next to you, as if he hadn't just admitted that he'd been playing jokes on you the whole day before. 

"Can you pass me the syrup?" he asked innocently, but there was nothing innocent about the way his thigh pressed against yours under the table. 

You handed him the bottle without looking at him, trying to focus on pouring your coffee without spilling it everywhere. Which was made all the more difficult when his hand found your knee under the table.

"So what's everyone's plans for today?" Maki asked, passing around a plate of fresh fruit.

You tried to concentrate on the conversation, you really did. But Satoru's hand was inching higher up your thigh, and your brain was shorted out. You kicked him under the table, aiming for his shin.

He didn't even flinch, just smiled wider and continued whatever conversation he was having with Megumi about later activities, all while his fingers danced along the hem of your shorts. You felt a sudden surge of heat, definitely not from the summer sun.

"You okay?" Nobara asked suddenly. "You look a bit flushed."

"Fine!" Your voice came out higher than intended as Satoru's fingers skimmed just slightly under the edge of your shorts. "Just... hot."

"It is pretty warm this morning," Satoru agreed, his tone perfectly pleasant even as his thumb pressed into that sensitive spot on your inner thigh that he somehow remembered. The bastard. You kicked him again, harder this time.

"Did someone just kick the table?" Maki looked around suspiciously.

"Must have been the wind," you said stupidly.

You grabbed his wrist under the table, intending to push his hand away, but he just interlaced his fingers with yours and kept them there on your thigh. It was like he was asserting dominance, staking his claim, and you were suddenly trapped.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay?" Yuji asked through a mouthful of pancakes. "You're acting weird."

"Totally fine," you managed. "Just didn't sleep well."

"Hmm, me neither," Satoru chimed in, his voice all false innocence. "Must be all these weird dreams I keep having." You dug your nails into his hand in warning, but he just squeezed your hand in response, his grip tightening.

"Dreams?" Nobara asked.

"Oh, you know," Satoru began thoughtfully, "the kind that keep you up all night, thinking about... things that got away."

You were going to murder him. Slowly. Possibly with the butter knife you were currently gripping way too tight.

"That's... weirdly poetic for you," Maki said, raising an eyebrow.

"You wouldn't want to know,” he replied, and you felt his fingers inch just slightly higher once more, making you jump and bang your knee on the table.

"Jesus, what is wrong with you two this morning?" Nobara asked, looking between you and Satoru.

Under the table, you finally managed to grab his hand in yours and hold it still. But that backfired when he started playing with your fingers instead, his thumb brushing across your knuckles in a way that made you gasp. You definitely wanted to kill him. Right after you figured out how to breathe normally again.

"So, beach day? I wanna go snorkelling," Yuji said, thankfully drawing attention away from whatever was going on under the table, and everyone agreed. JJust then, Satoru freed his hand from yours and placed it back on your knee before trailing it up your thigh. 

Okay, nope this had to end now.

"I need more coffee," you announced abruptly, standing up so fast your chair scraped against the deck.

"I'll help," Satoru offered, already rising.

"No!" The word came out too sharp, making everyone look at you strangely. "I mean, I'm good. Thanks."

You practically fled into the kitchen, your skin still tingling where he'd touched you. Through the window, you could see him chatting with the others, looking completely unaffected while you were here trying to remember how to make your heart beat normally.

When is this weekend going to end?

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

"You sure you're okay?" Maki asked, swimming up beside you. "You've been weird all morning. Is the sun too much?"

"I'm fine," you said for what felt like the hundredth time today. "I’m not used to be around so many people."

The water was crystal clear, stretching out in various shades of blue that seemed to go on forever. Everyone had eagerly jumped into snorkeling, with Yuji and Nobara already in a heated competition about who could spot the most fish.

You adjusted your mask for the tenth time, trying to focus on anything except how good Satoru looked in just swim shorts. He was a few meters away, the sunlight catching the droplets of water that clung to his ridiculously toned shoulders.

My God. You needed distance. You needed space to breathe, to think, to do anything other than stare at him.

"If you say so." Maki didn't look convinced. "But tell me if something’s bothering you, okay?"

If only she knew. "Sure."

"Guys, come look at this!" Yuji called from where he was floating near some corals. "Rainbow fish!" 

Everyone swam over to where he was pointing, and you had to admit, the sight was beautiful. Countless colourful fish swam through the coral, creating a vibrant palette under the water.

You followed the fish as a sudden pressure against your calf made you flinch. Satoru. He had brushed against your leg. It could have been an accident, a mere consequence of the crowded water, but somehow, it felt like anything but. You knew better. Nothing about Satoru was ever accidental.

You drifted slightly away from the group, desperately needing to put some distance between yourself and Satoru. The vibrant corals blurred into streaks of colour as you swam further from the group, the shouts of Yuji and Nobara fading.

The water a bit away from them was deeper, a darker shade of blue. As you peered down, you noticed the sandy ground was dotted with small stones, and a different kind of life seemed to thrive here. Sea anemones swayed gently in the current, and schools of silver fish, smaller than the ones near the reef, darted in and out of the anemones.

You floated on your back for a moment, gazing up at the sky, a vast expanse of pale blue flecked with fluffy white clouds as the sun warmed your face. It was so peaceful, and you were happy for the small pause amidst the chaos of the house.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

You startled at Satoru's voice right behind you, nearly inhaling water through your snorkel. He'd somehow managed to swim up without you noticing, and now he was close enough that his arm brushed yours in the water.

"What are you doing?" you hissed, pulling your snorkel out.

"I know a better spot.” He nodded towards a more secluded area around the curve of the beach. "If you're interested."

You glanced back at the others, but they were all absorbed in whatever Yuji had found. "I don't think—"

"Come on," he said, already swimming away. "Don't you trust me?"

"Not even a little bit." But found yourself following him anyway.

He led you around a small outcropping of rocks, the current tugging gently at your fins, to a quieter part of the reef. His hand on your arm gently guided you through the water. The water here was somehow even clearer, as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a breathtaking underwater scenery with colourful coral formations that created a labyrinth of archways and caverns with small fish swimming in between.

"How did you—"

"I came here earlier this morning," he said, treading water close to you. "While you were pretending to ignore me after breakfast."

"I wasn't—" You cut yourself off as he dove under the surface, the sunlight playing across his back as he swam deeper.

You followed him down, your breath taken away by the sight. This part of the reef was like something out of a documentary. Swarms of tropical fish swirled around you in ribbons of colour, and the coral itself seemed to shine in the filtered sunlight.

When you surfaced, Satoru was watching you with an annoyingly knowing smile. "Worth following me?"

"It's alright," you said, trying to sound unimpressed even though you were anything but.

He laughed. "You're still trying to play hard to get?"

"I'm not playing anything."

"No?" He swam closer, close enough that you could see droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes. "Then why did you follow me here?"

"To see the fish.”

"The fish." His voice was amused. "Sure. That's why you've been watching me all morning?"

"I have not—"

"You know," he cut you off, moving even closer, his body brushing against yours in the water. "You're pretty when you get all flustered. Just like that night in Tokyo. Same flush you had when I made you cum three times.”

Ha? Had he been keeping count or what? You frantically tried to replay that night in your head — there was the first time against his apartment door, then on the kitchen counter, and... oh god, he was right. The bastard had been counting. The smirk on his face told you he knew exactly what you were thinking about.

You splashed water at him. "We are not talking about Tokyo."

He wiped water from his face, grinning. "No? Should we talk about this morning instead? About how you nearly jumped out of your skin when I touched your—"

You dunked him mid-sentence.

He came up spluttering, pushing wet hair from his eyes. "Okay, I probably deserved that."

"You definitely deserved that."

But he laughed, and despite yourself, you found yourself laughing too. There was something infectious about him, something that made it hard to keep your walls up, dissolving your defenses with unnerving ease, like mist beneath the morning sun.

"We should head back," you said finally. "Before they come looking for us."

"Probably," he agreed, but made no move to leave. Instead, he floated closer, until his chest pressed against yours. "Or we could stay here a bit longer. I could remind you of all the other ways I can make you wet."

Heat flooded your body. "Satoru..."

"Yes?" His hands found your waist under the water, pulling you flush against him. One thigh slipped between yours, and you had to bite back a gasp at the friction. "You know, I still remember exactly how you sound when you're trying not to moan my name."

"We can't." But your body betrayed you, arching into his touch as his fingers skimmed along your ribs, dangerously close to your breast.

"Can't?" His lips ghosted over your lips, his thumb tracing circles on your hip under the water in a way that made you think of how those fingers had felt inside you. "Or are you afraid you won't be able to keep quiet this time?"

Before you could answer, Nobara's voice carried across the water. "Where did you guys go?"

You pushed away from him quickly, already swimming back towards the group. "Coming!"

"This isn't over," he called after you, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

"It never started!" you shot back, but you were smiling too.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Satoru spent the rest of the afternoon driving you absolutely insane.

After snorkeling, he'd positioned his beach towel suspiciously close to yours, spending an unnecessary amount of time applying sunscreen to his chest and arms. His movements were deliberately slow, borderline pornographic, fingers sliding over muscle in a way that had you remembering exactly how those muscles had felt flexing under your tongue. 

You knew without a doubt he was putting on a show for you—every movement a reminder of how those arms had looked braced above you as he'd fucked you against his apartment door, how they'd felt pinning your wrists to his sheets.

During lunch, he'd somehow ended up next to you again, his bare thigh pressed hot against yours under the table like this morning had taught him nothing. Except this time, his hand didn't just rest on your knee. It spent the entire meal tracing patterns up your thigh, fingertips dancing dangerous close to where you'd been aching for him.

Your breath caught every time his hand "accidentally" slipped under the hem of your shorts, remembering how those fingers had curled inside you, how they'd made you beg.

The afternoon beach volleyball rematch was even worse. He kept finding excuses to touch you—steadying you with a hand on your waist when you stumbled in the sand (the same way he'd gripped your hips while taking you from behind), reaching around you to grab the ball (his breath hot on your neck like when he'd whispered how good you felt around him), his chest pressing against your back, closer than needed (making you remember how it felt to be pressed between him and that apartment door).

But dinner? Dinner was pure torture.

He'd shown up freshly showered, hair still damp and tousled in that way that made your fingers itch to grab it (like you had when he was between your thighs), wearing a dark blue linen shirt that he hadn't bothered to button properly once more and spent the entire meal finding new ways to make you squirm.

He'd catch your eye across the table and slowly lick sauce off his thumb, making you remember exactly how that tongue had felt when he'd spread you open. When passing dishes, his fingers would brush against yours unnecessarily long, making you shiver. At one point, he'd stretched his arms above his head, his shirt riding up to reveal his lower abs that had you gripping your fork so hard your knuckles turned white.

He knew exactly what he was doing, too—you could tell by the smug look on his face throughout the whole dinner. 

Thankfully, no one else seemed to notice anything amiss. They were all too busy with their own conversations, completely oblivious to the way he was systematically dismantling your sanity with nothing more than glances and touches.

Every time you thought you'd gotten yourself under control, he'd do something else — run his fingers through his hair the same way he had when you'd been on your knees in front of him, or bite his lip in a way that had you crossing your legs under the table. By dessert, you were a mess of sexual frustration and murderous impulses. 

He was enjoying this, the bastard. Testing your control, seeing how far he could push before you broke. And the most infuriating part? 

It was working. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

After dinner, everyone wandered into the living room in various states of food induced laziness. You'd barely managed to claim a corner of the big couch when Nobara disappeared into the kitchen, returning with an armful of wine bottles and a certain look in her eye that spelled trouble.

"No one move," she announced, setting the bottles on the coffee table. "I have an idea."

"Your ideas usually end with someone crying," Megumi commented from his spot on the floor.

"Or arrested," Maki added helpfully.

"Or both," you muttered, trying to ignore how Satoru had somehow appeared in the armchair closest to your corner of the couch. He'd rolled up his sleeves during dinner, forearms on full display, and you were having a hard time not staring at his fingers. Fingers that you knew from experience felt so good in your mouth to keep you from—

"Never have I ever!" Nobara's voice cut through your dangerous train of thought. A collective groan rose from the group.

"Not again," Megumi said, already trying to get up.

"Sit your ass down," Nobara commanded, pushing him back down. "We're bonding."

"We bonded plenty last night," you Yuta tried, but Nobara was having none of it and before you knew it, everyone agreed.

"Okay, I'll start easy," Yuji said, clearly excited despite his earlier protests. "Never have I ever cheated on a test."

Several people drank, including Satoru—and you, okay let’s be real. 

The questions started innocent enough. Never have I ever broken a bone. Never have I ever been arrested. Never have I ever dyed my hair. But as the wine flowed, the questions got progressively more suggestive.

"Never have I ever kissed someone of the same gender," Maki said, and half the circle drank. "Never have I ever faked it," was Nobara's contribution, and several people groaned but drank.

You were starting to feel a bit hazy, the wine making everything feel warm and soft around the edges. Which was dangerous, because Satoru kept looking at you like he was remembering exactly how you'd sounded that night when you definitely hadn't been faking anything.

"Never have I ever," one of Yuta’s cousins announced then, "had sex with someone in this room." For a moment, no one moved. Then Yuta and Maki drank, of course. And then Satoru raised his own glass slowly and took a long sip.

"Who?" Nobara shrieked, looking around the circle. "Satoru just drank, so someone else here has to—" Her gaze swept over everyone suspiciously.

"Someone's lying," Maki sang, already tipsy enough to find this hilarious. "Come on, fess up!"

You kept your face carefully neutral, even as you felt Satoru's eyes burning into you. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Not this time.

"Maybe it was before any of us knew each other," Yuji suggested, but Nobara shook her head.

"No way. Look at his face!" She pointed accusingly at Satoru. "He's got that look. You know, that 'I know something you don't know' look."

Satoru just smiled lazily from his armchair, swirling the wine in his glass. "Maybe I just like keeping you all guessing."

"You're a dumbass," Nobara said, but the group's attention was already shifting as Yuji launched into the next question, something about falling asleep at work.

You released a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, but made the mistake of glancing at Satoru and he gave you a look that sent a shiver of heat through you over his wine glass. 

God, you were going to murder him. Slowly. Painfully. Preferably with the very wine glass he was currently smirking into. 

Who did he think he was, just casually drinking like that, nearly exposing everything? He could have at least warned you, given you some sign he was about to blow up your secret. But no, he'd just taken that deliberate sip, probably getting hard on watching you squirm as you tried to keep your poker face. 

That sick bastard.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Sleep was impossible. You'd been tossing and turning for hours, replaying the day's events in your mind—from that moment in the ocean to his deliberate almost-reveal during the game. The walls of this fancy beach house seemed paper thin at night, every small sound amplified in the darkness.

That's how you heard his door open around 2 AM, followed by quiet footsteps heading downstairs.

You waited a few minutes, telling yourself you were just thirsty, that going downstairs for water had nothing to do with knowing he was maybe down there. The wooden steps creaked softly under your bare feet as you made your way down.

Silvery moonlight streamed through the massive windows, creating silver patterns on the marble countertops of the kitchen. Satoru stood at the island, drinking water from a glass, looking unfairly handsome in just sleep shorts and a wrinkled t-shirt.

"Couldn't sleep?" he whispered when he spotted you.

"What's your game, Satoru?" You kept your voice equally low, padding closer. "That thing earlier? During never have I ever?"

"Game? I'm not the one who was afraid of drinking".

"Because unlike you, I don't feel the need to announce our business to everyone."

He set his glass down, turning to face you fully. "Our business? So you admit there's something to announce?"

"That's not—" You caught yourself before your voice could rise. "What are you trying to achieve here? With all the—" you gestured vaguely, "touching and teasing and almost exposing everything?"

He stepped closer, and suddenly the kitchen felt way too small, even though it was like three times the size of your Tokyo apartment. "Maybe I just want everyone to know that night wasn't as casual for me as you seem to think it was."

You felt the weight of his words settle in the quiet kitchen, heavy with meaning you weren't prepared to unpack while moonlight caught his features in a way that made him look softer, almost vulnerable.

"What are you talking about? It was only one night."

"Was it?" He moved closer, until you had to tilt your head back to keep eye contact. "Because I remember asking you to stay. I remember waking up to an empty bed and spent the next six months thinking about why you left."

"I... you were just saying that in the moment. People say lots of things in the moment."

"Do they?" His hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face. "Is that why you ran? Because you thought I didn't mean it?"

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore how your skin prickled where he'd touched you. "Satoru..."

"You know what I think?" His voice dropped even lower, barely a whisper in the quiet kitchen. "I think you're scared. Not of me, but of the fact that you wanted to stay too."

"That's not—" But the words died in your throat as his thumb traced your jawline.

"Then why are you down here?" He was close enough now that you could feel the heat of his body against yours. "If it was just one night, just something casual, why did you follow me down here in the middle of the night?"

The counter pressed against your back—when had you started backing up?—and Satoru's arms came to rest on either side of you, caging you in. Position achingly familiar, reminding you of how this all started six months ago.

"I was thirsty," you said. You did not even believe yourself as you said it.

His laugh was barely a breath against your skin. "Liar."

And then his mouth was on yours, and god, you'd forgotten how good he was at this. His lips were soft but demanding, one hand sliding into your hair while the other gripped your hip, forcing you close against him. You gasped into the kiss, and he took the opportunity to deepen it, his tongue against yours in a way that made you forget your own name.

It was different from that first night—less urgent, but somehow more intense. He kissed you like he was trying to prove a point, like he was laying claim to every moment you'd denied him these past six months. His teeth caught your lower lip, and you had to bite back a whimper, too aware of the sleeping house above.

"Still want to pretend this is nothing?" he whispered against your mouth, and you could feel his smile when your only response was to pull him back down for another kiss.

His hands slid down to grip your thighs, lifting you onto the counter. You wrapped your legs around his waist, drawing him closer as his mouth moved to your neck, kissing your throat just the way you like it, just the way he somehow remembered.

"Someone could come down," you breathed, even as your fingers tangled in his hair.

"Then I guess you'll have to be quiet." His teeth grazed your skin, making you shiver. "Think you can manage that? Because I distinctly remember you being quite vocal last time."

You tightened your grip on his hair in return, but that just made him groan softly against your throat. "You're stupid."

"Mm, that's not what you said in Tokyo." His hands slid higher under your shirt, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. "In fact, I remember you saying some very different things—"

You cut him off with another kiss, partly to shut him up and partly because you needed his mouth on yours like you needed air. His fingers teased along your ribs, your back, your thighs, touching you everywhere except where you desperately wanted him to.

But then his fingers found the edge of your underwear, and you had to bite his shoulder to keep from moaning as he slid his fingers inside you, making you cum all over his fingers in seconds—just like that night in Tokyo.

You were done, dizzy, breathless, clinging to him as he stripped your shorts and underwear down your legs. He pushed one leg up your chest as he lowered you back down onto the marble kitchen counter, your other leg still wrapped around his waist. His forehead pressed against yours as he thrust inside, hard, slow, perfect angle—just like that night in Tokyo.

He tossed you around, manhandled you, fucked you against the fridge, threw you onto the couch and fucked you there too. He whispered your name, his voice husky against your ear, every letter a caress, even as he picked up pace, even as his hand closed around your throat, even as you bit into the pillow below to muffle your screams as he made you cum again. Multiple times. In various positions. Using his own cum as a lube for the next round—just like that night in Tokyo.

Afterwards you laid outside on the veranda in a big chair you both shared, gazing up at the stars scattered across the deep velvet sky, countless and impossibly bright. A second later his lips found yours and another second later you were on top of him, underwear pushed to the side and your head thrown back as he watched you chase your release on his dick—just like that night in Tokyo.

And his hand found yours, intertwining your fingers as he ate you out on the stairs just before you wanted to go back to bed, but he wouldn't let you, making you cum again before he carried you off to the laundry room to fuck you one last time for sure good mesure—just like that night in Tokyo.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Morning came way too early, sunlight streaming through windows you'd forgotten to close. Every muscle in your body ached in the most pleasant way, reminding you of exactly how many surfaces you and Satoru had christened last night. 

Yeah. You were definitely going to be feeling this for days. You winced slightly as you sat up — apparently kitchen counters weren't the most ergonomic choice for certain activities, or the stairs, or the laundry room, or... Okay, we get it.

When you finally made it downstairs, moving perhaps a bit more strangely than usual, Satoru was already at the breakfast table. Because of course he was, looking absolutely perfect and fullyfull rested in a fresh shirt, casually sipping his coffee like he hadn't spent half the night making you bite down on your fist to keep quiet.

"Well, someone looks rough," Nobara commented as you lowered yourself carefully into a chair. "Too much wine last night?"

You caught Satoru hiding a smirk behind his coffee cup. The bastard didn't even have the decency to look tired.

"Something like that," you muttered, reaching for the coffee pot and trying not to wince at the stretch. Your thighs burned in protest of the movement, and you could swear you saw Satoru's smile widening at your slight grimace.

"Must have been some wine," Nobara said, eyeing you suspiciously. "I don't remember you drinking that much during the game."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Yuji asked, looking concerned. "You're walking kind of funny."

"I'm fine, really," you managed. "Too much wine, that’s all."

Maki, who sat next to you, leaned in closer. "Your 'too much wine' is showing," she whispered, pointing to your collarbone. Your hand flew to your neck, suddenly remembering all the attention Satoru had paid to that area—especially that moment on the stairs when you'd begged him to finish what he'd started before anyone heard them, while he sucked a very dark bruise right above your collarbone.

You quickly buttoned up your cotton shirt higher, but from Nobara's growing grin, it was too late. But thankfully, no one commented on it.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

The rest of Sunday passed in a lazy haze, with everyone moving a bit slower thanks to varying degrees of wine headaches. Most of the day was spent sprawled out on beach chairs, hiding behind sunglasses and drinking coconut water that Yuta swore would help with hangovers (but, in fact, did not).

You dozed on and off under an umbrella, trying not to think about how your body still ached in several places from the night before, and enjoyed your last day in Okinawa before you'd return to work on Monday.

When evening rolled around and it was time to pack up, the house became a chaos of suitcases and forgotten phone chargers once more. You were struggling with your bag next to your car, trying to figure out the best angle to lift it into the trunk without stressing your still sore muscles, when Satoru suddenly appeared and took it from your hands without a word.

"I can manage," you protested, but he was already lifting it into your trunk with an effortless ease that really shouldn't be as attractive as it was.

"I'm sure you can," he said, closing your trunk with a soft thud. "But maybe I just want an excuse to do this." 

Before you could ask what 'this' was, he pressed a small folded piece of paper into your palm. You opened it to find a phone number written in his surprisingly neat handwriting.

"Since you didn't stay for it last time," he said softly.

"What makes you think I'll use it?"

"Because this time, you want to stay just as much as I want you to." He leaned closer, his voice dropping so only you could hear. "Besides, I believe we still have a few surfaces in my apartment left to explore."

You shoved his shoulder. "Stop." 

He caught your hand before you could push him again. "Use it. Please?" His voice held a note of softness, an unexpected tenderness that made your heart ache with a strange longing. You nodded, tucking the paper safely into your back pocket.

"Still not announcing anything to everyone tho," you warned as Maki called out that they were ready to leave.

"Yet," he said with an eye roll. Then, before you could react, he pulled you in for one last kiss. It was slower, deeper this time, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you, as if he was afraid he might forget the feel of your lips.

"Someone could see us," you whispered against his lips, even as your fingers curled into his shirt.

"I don't care," he murmured, one hand sliding down to your waist to draw you closer. "Let them see." He kissed you again, shorter this time but no less intense. "Besides, they'll find out soon enough when I take you to this little ramen place in Shibuya I've been wanting to show you."

You pulled back slightly. "Oh? Someone's confident about getting a second date."

"Third, technically," he said. "If we're counting Tokyo. And that thing against the washing machine last night."

"Those don't count.”

"Then I guess I'll have to make the next one special. Maybe dinner first. Then I can show you my apartment. Properly this time, not just the entrance hall and kitchen counter."

"Is that your way of asking me out?"

"That's my way of saying I'm not letting you disappear for six months again." He pressed a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Use my number this time, yeah?"

"Satoru!" Yuji's voice carried across the driveway. "Stop making out and help me with these bags!"

Satoru laughed against your lips, stealing one more kiss before reluctantly pulling away. "Think about it. The ramen place. My apartment. All the surfaces we haven't used yet."

"Go help Yuji," you said, pushing him away even as you smiled. "Before he comes over here."

"Call me," he said, walking backwards with that stupidly handsome smile. "Or I'll just have to show up at your office. Make a big scene. Maybe bring flowers. Really embarrass you in front of all your coworkers."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me!" He finally turned then to help with the bags, leaving you to shake your head, your lips still tingling from his kisses.

The drive home felt different somehow. Every now and then, your hand would drift to your pocket, fingers brushing over the folded paper with his number, making sure it was still there as the familiar roads back to Tokyo stretched ahead.

The beach house grew smaller in your rearview mirror until it disappeared completely, taking with it the memories of lazy afternoons under the summer sun and heated nights. But other things lingered—the ghost of his lips against yours, the warmth of his hands, the way he'd looked at you like you were something worth waiting for.

Maybe you'd call him tomorrow. Or maybe you'd wait a day or two, just to prove you could. But knowing you, you'd likely message him the moment you set foot in your apartment.

A smile tugged at your lips as you pulled onto the highway, the setting sun painting the sky in strokes of rose and  lavender. Whatever happened next, one thing was for sure — this weekend had changed everything.

And maybe, just maybe, that wasn't such a bad thing.

masterlist + support my writing

author's note — and that's a wrap on our beach house summer story ! thank you so much for reading :)) & thank you again to @/nanamis-baker for beta reading !!

for anyone wondering, yes, she kept the shirt. and yes, he definitely noticed when she wore it to their first proper date to that ramen spot in shibuya.

if you enjoyed this fic, please feel free to leave a comment or reblog. it means so much !! until next time. stay thirsty hydrated, my friends <3

ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here.

tags — @fayuki @starmapz @starlightanyaaa @sxnkuna @cocomanga

@nanamis-baker @rosso-seta @sugurbo @chiyokoemilia @janbannan

@bloopsstuff @snowsilver2000 @ihearttoru @momoewn @yokosandesu

@90s-belladonna @fairygardenprincesss

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[reasonsforhope]

I’m sorry to come to you like this since you probably wanted someone to come in for a reason for hope but I’m freaking out and have no one to talk to about this rn. A music artist I follow put this stuff in their story on instagram..how are things getting better??? I’m so confused and scared. I’m terrified to be alive. I should’ve died in election night. Idk if I can do this anymore. I don’t want the world to end nor live in an apocalypse/dystopia. I can’t do this. I’m not strong enough. I’m going to die before I even reach the age of 25 or 30 instead of dying of old age😥😥😥😥😥

First, breathe.

Second:

Go read these links. Keep going down the list until you feel better:

Read:

this article* on why the doomers are wrong

everything in Fix the News's awesome year-end roundup* of good news

everything in my masterpost on why we're going to beat climate change

everything from my masterpost on net negative carbon emissions

everything in Fix the News's archives, until you feel better

*it's a fantastic article in many ways but warning for (brief but serious) fatphobia and some annoying Western-centrism. Warning for fatphobia also applies to (one point on the) Fix the News roundup.

You should not have died on election night. Absolutely not. Yes, there are great injustices in the world. But this too shall pass. Literally everything does.

Some notes:

This isn't the end of the world. It's not about to be an apocalypse. And, if the world wasn't a dystopia when half of all people died before the age of 15 (aka all of history until the past 250 years), it's definitely not a dystopia now, imho. (x, x)

Literally every single week on Fix the News, I see the news that some country has ended some disease! Usually I see multiple stories about that each week! We're making real progress that has saved billions of lives!

In 1900, 120 years ago, there were 5 full liberal democracies in the entire world. Now, about 97 countries (out of approximately 195, depending on how you count) are democracies. That's almost half the countries in the world! This is actually, writ large, a time of massive expansion of human rights, hard as it is to believe from looking at the news. (x, x)

Also Imho the most likely explanation to the Fermi Paradox is that we're only 0.13% of the way through expected lifespan of the universe (x, x). Very little time for life to evolve, comparatively.

Finally:

Unfollow this person. Unfollow everyone who posts something that makes you feel suicidal - literally and ongoingly, every time you see a post that makes you spiral, immediately unfollow that person.

It's not about sticking your head in the sand. If you want, you can calendar time to check ACTUAL news sources (NOT social media) a couple times a week to make sure you're staying up on things.

But you know what? The number one priority is keeping yourself alive.

How are things actually getting better? To quote the first article I linked:

"I could tell you that a little more than 200 years ago, nearly half of all children born died before they reached their 15th birthday, and that today it’s less than 5 percent globally. I could tell you that in pre-industrial times, starvation was a constant specter and life expectancy was in the 30s at best. I could tell you that at the dawn of the 19th century, barely more than one person in 10 was literate, while today that ratio has been nearly reversed. I could tell you that today is, on average, the best time to be alive in human history."

Stay alive. And do what you need to do to keep yourself that way.

[lizziesangel]

RAFE CAMERON ⟢ noodle loving girl

x !FEM!reader ⟢ MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: three times you sneak away to eat noodles, one time he does the same + bonus

WORD COUNT: +7.6k

GENRE: fluff

CONTENT WARNING: nothing

the first time

tannyhill was eerily quiet, bathed in faint moonlight filtering through the windows. you stirred in rafe’s bed, his arm thrown over your waist like a weighted blanket, his slow breaths warm against your shoulder. for a moment, you lay there, staring at the ceiling, willing yourself to fall back asleep.

but then your stomach growled. loudly.

you winced, glancing over your shoulder to make sure rafe was still asleep. he was, his face half-buried in his pillow, completely oblivious to your plight.

biting your lip, you slowly shifted out from under his arm, careful not to disturb him. he groaned faintly in his sleep, mumbling something unintelligible, but didn’t wake up. you grabbed your phone from the nightstand and slipped out of the room, making your way downstairs.

the house was dark, and as you padded down the hallway, a strange sound made you freeze.

whispers.

you tilted your head, straining to hear. the voices were muffled, coming from the direction of the kitchen. for a split second, your brain went straight to the worst-case scenario: intruders.

grabbing the nearest ‘weapon’ (a decorative vase from a side table), you crept toward the kitchen, heart pounding. the whispers grew louder, accompanied by the distinct sound of rustling bags.

you tightened your grip on the vase, poking your head around the corner—and stopped dead in your tracks.

there, in the glow of the open pantry, stood sarah and wheezie, bickering in hushed tones as they dug through the shelves.

“what do you mean we don’t have oreos? you said there were oreos,” sarah was whispering, pulling out random boxes and shaking them.

“they were here yesterday!” wheezie replied, holding up a bag of chips. “just eat these.”

“no way. i don’t want something salty.”

still clutching the vase, you exhaled loudly, causing both of them to whip around, startled.

“uh… hi?” you said, setting the vase down and trying to calm your racing heart.

“hi?” sarah echoed, her hand frozen mid-reach into the pantry.

wheezie just blinked at you, her cheeks stuffed with chips like a squirrel caught hoarding food.

you looked between the two of them, raising an eyebrow. “so… we’re all just hungry?”

sarah raxed, crossing her arms as she leaned against the counter. “apparently.”

wheezie nodded, swallowing her mouthful of chips. “what are you doing down here? shouldn’t you be upstairs… with rafe?”

you shrugged, holding up the pack of buldak carbonara noodles you’d grabbed from the counter. “i got hungry. and, well, noodles.”

sarah squinted at the packaging. “wait, isn’t that the crazy spicy stuff?”

“it’s not crazy spicy—it’s creamy and amazing. big difference,” you corrected, already moving toward the kettle to start boiling water.

wheezie craned her neck to get a better look. “is it actually good? i always thought those things were just for people trying to punish themselves.”

“it’s the best late-night snack ever,” you said, putting a pot on the stove. “want to try some?”

wheezie’s eyes lit up. “yes. chips are boring.”

sarah made a face but eventually sighed. “fine. i’ll try a bite. but only because i want to understand the hype.”

as the water began to boil, you leaned against the counter, glancing between the two of them. “what are you guys even doing up? i thought i was the only weirdo sneaking around for snacks at midnight.”

“wheezie woke me up,” sarah said flatly, glaring at her sister.

“i was starving!” wheezie protested, clutching her chips defensively.

“you were also banging cabinet doors like a maniac,” sarah shot back. “it’s a miracle you didn’t wake the entire house.”

“fair,” wheezie admitted, taking another handful of chips.

you laughed, shaking your head as you poured the boiled water in the pan and put the noodles in as well. “honestly, i thought you were burglars or something.”

sarah smirked. “that would’ve been entertaining.”

“not for me!” wheezie exclaimed.

the three of you dissolved into quiet laughter, the tension of the moment melting away. when you poured some water away and added the cream, cheese and spices a rich and spicy aroma began to fill the air.

sarah tilted her head, smirking at you.

“you know rafe’s gonna freak when he wakes up and he can’t find you?”

“probably,” you said with a grin. “but he can survive for five minutes without me.”

“bold of you to assume,” sarah teased.

you set three bowls on the counter, handing one to each of them. wheezie immediately dug in, her eyes widening as she took her first bite.

“okay, wow, this is amazing,” she mumbled through a mouthful of noodles.

“told you,” you said smugly, taking a bite from your own bowl.

sarah hesitated but eventually took a small bite. her eyes widened slightly, and she cleared her throat, trying to play it cool. “it’s… decent.”

“decent?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow with a smile.

“fine. it’s amazing,” she admitted begrudgingly.

as you were sitting around the island, slurping noodles and swapping stories under the dim glow of the overhead light. sarah was making fun of wheezie for the way she held her chopsticks, while wheezie defended herself with half-coherent arguments between bites.

you were laughing so hard you nearly dropped your bowl when you heard the telltale sound of heavy, uncoordinated footsteps padding down the stairs.

all three of you froze, turning toward the doorway just as rafe stumbled in, his hair sticking out in every direction, his hoodie slightly askew. his half-lidded, sleepy eyes scanned the scene, his brows furrowing as he tried to make sense of what he was looking at.

“what the hell is going on?” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

“hi, baby,” you said, trying to stifle a laugh at how utterly confused he looked.

rafe blinked at you, his gaze shifting to sarah and wheezie, then to the bowls of noodles on the counter. “is this… a dream? am i—what?”

“nope, very real,” sarah quipped, taking another bite of her noodles. “welcome to the midnight noodle club.”

rafe rubbed a hand over his face, clearly trying to wake himself up. “i thought you were in bed,” he said, looking at you accusingly.

“i was,” you admitted, giving him an innocent smile. “but i got hungry. and, well, sarah and wheezie were already raiding the pantry, so…” you gestured at the spread of noodles like it explained everything.

rafe stared at the scene for a long moment, then pointed at the bowls. “are those the spicy noodles?”

“yes,” you said proudly.

he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “of course they are. why am i not surprised?”

“you want some?” you asked, holding up your bowl in offering.

rafe shook his head, though his lips quirked in a small smile. “nah, you can keep your torture food. i’m good.” he shuffled over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. “you left me for noodles?”

“i left you for the buldak carbonara noodles,” you corrected, twirling some noodles around your chopsticks and taking a bite.

“you’ve got issues,” he muttered, though there was no real heat in his voice.

“she fits right in,” sarah said, smirking at the two of you.

“clearly,” rafe muttered, glancing at his sisters. “what are you two doing awake anyway?”

wheezie shrugged, still focused on her bowl. “we got hungry.”

“and she woke me up,” sarah added, shooting wheezie a pointed look.

“whatever,” wheezie said with a mouthful of noodles. “these are worth it.”

rafe shook his head, his grip tightening slightly around your waist as he kissed your temple. “alright, noodle girl. finish up and come back to bed.”

“you could just sit and join us, you know,” you teased.

he smirked, leaning closer to whisper in your ear. “or i could carry you upstairs and steal you back.”

your face went warm, nudging him away playfully. “let me finish my noodles first, rafe.”

he sighed dramatically, but you could see the fondness in his eyes as he let go. “fine. ten more minutes.”

as rafe leaned against the counter, watching the three of you eat, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

the second time

it was the middle of the night at tannyhill again, and once more, you found yourself lying in bed wide awake. rafe was snoring softly beside you, one arm slung possessively over your waist. for most people, this setup would’ve been the perfect invitation to drift off into peaceful dreams.

but not for you.

you stomach growled, and the craving hit you like a truck. buldak noodles.

it had been a week since the first midnight noodle escapade, and rafe hadn’t let you live it down. but this time, you promised yourself you’d be quick and quiet—no waking him, no recruiting his sisters. just you, your noodles, and a late-night craving.

sliding out of bed, you tiptoed out of the room and down the stairs. the house was silent. you slipped into the kitchen, grabbed your favorite noodle packet, and started boiling water.

as the water bubbled away, you heard a faint noise behind you. freezing mid-stir, you listened carefully. footsteps? whispers?

not again, you thought. for a moment, you were sure it was wheezie and sarah trying to raid the pantry like last time. but when you turned around, you saw two familiar figures sneaking in through the back door: sarah and john b.

both froze when they saw you standing there with a pot of boiling water and a packet of noodles in your hand.

“oh, hey,” john b said casually, as if it was totally normal to be sneaking into the house in the middle of the night.

“uh… hi?” you said, raising an eyebrow. “what are you two doing?”

sarah tossed her keys onto the counter, her expression completely unbothered. “we went to the beach. felt like a midnight swim.”

“in jeans and sneakers?” you asked, eyeing their less-than-swim-friendly outfits.

“okay, fine,” sarah admitted, pulling a stray leaf out of her hair. “we were climbing trees. john b’s idea.”

“climbing trees,” you repeated, deadpan.

“don’t look at me,” john b said, holding his hands up. “she started it.”

you sighed, setting the noodles aside for a moment. “and you thought sneaking back in through the back door at midnight wouldn’t look suspicious?”

“we didn’t think anyone would be awake,” sarah said, sliding onto a barstool. “what are you doing up anyway?”

“i got hungry,” you said simply, holding up the bright pink packet of noodles.

“is this your thing now?” she asked, smirking. “midnight noodles?”

“apparently.”

“i could get used to that,” she smiled as she sat down.

john b sniffed the air, his eyebrows raising. “what is that? smells good.”

“buldak carbonara,” you said proudly, grabbing the seasoning packets.

“spicy noodles?” he asked, looking intrigued.

“they’re creamy and spicy,” you corrected.

“want some?”

before john b could answer, sarah cut in. “you do not want that, john b. it’s her thing, and she’s obsessed, but trust me—it’s like eating fire.”

“it’s not that spicy!” you protested, tearing open the sauce packet.

“i had some last week,” sarah said, shaking her head. “pretty sure i saw my life flash before my eyes.”

“if you’re making it as spicy as last time, i’m out. that stuff nearly killed me.”

john b snorted. “now i kinda want to try it.”

you rolled your eyes but grabbed a second packet, adjusting the ratio of sauce for her and john b’s bowls. “fine. i’ll make a mild version for the babies,” you teased.

“thank you,” sarah said, watching skeptically as you stirred the sauce into the noodles.

once the noodles were ready, you served up three bowls—yours with the full kick, and theirs with a more toned-down spice level. sarah and john b eyed their bowls suspiciously at first, but after a few tentative bites, they both relaxed.

“okay, this is actually good,” sarah admitted, twirling more noodles onto her fork.

john b nodded enthusiastically. “yeah, this is solid. creamy, just a little spicy—perfect.”

you smirked, taking a bite of your own bowl. “told you. midnight noodles are superior.”

“alright, i’ll give you that,” sarah said with a grin. “but only if you keep making it like this. none of that fire-breathing dragon nonsense.”

“no promises,” you said, winking.

the three of you were mid-laugh—sarah nearly choking on her noodles as john b tried to recount the time he got stuck in a tree—when the familiar sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the stairs.

you froze, chopsticks halfway to your mouth.

“uh-oh,” sarah whispered, her eyes darting toward the doorway.

“don’t ‘uh-oh’ me,” you hissed back. “he won’t care.”

“i don’t know…” sarah said, a smirk already forming on her face.

before you could argue, rafe appeared in the doorway, looking half-asleep and entirely unimpressed. his hair stuck out in all directions, and he was wearing the same hoodie he’d been in earlier, though it looked like he’d thrown it on backward in his haste. His squinting eyes scanned the scene: you, sarah, john b, and three bowls of noodles.

for a second, he just stood there, rubbing his face like he couldn’t believe this was happening again.

“really?” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. “this is a regular thing now?”

“hi, baby,” you said, trying not to laugh at the way his brow furrowed.

ryafe’s eyes zeroed in on you first. “you ditched me for noodles. again.”

then his gaze shifted to sarah, who was grinning around her chopsticks. “you, i expected,” he said flatly.

finally, his eyes landed on john b, who had the audacity to look sheepish. “but you, john b? really, bro? midnight noodles with my girlfriend?”

john b put his hands up defensively, a noodle dangling from his chopsticks. “hey, man, she offered. i wasn’t gonna say no.”

“unbelievable,” rafe muttered, walking into the kitchen and leaning against the counter. “first my sisters, now you. what’s next? dad sneaking down for a bowl?”

sarah snorted. “dad’s too boring for this. but wheezie’s probably mad she missed it.”

“don’t give her ideas,” rafe grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking back at you. “i thought we had a deal. you wake me up if you’re leaving bed.”

you smirked, twirling some noodles onto your chopsticks. “and ruin the surprise? come on, babe.”

rafe sighed dramatically, running a hand through his messy hair. “at this point, i’m not even mad about the noodles. i’m mad that everyone’s in on this except me.”

“you’re welcome to join,” you offered, sliding the half-finished pot of noodles toward him.

he looked at it skeptically. “did you make it with that insane sauce again?”

“nope,” you said sweetly. “mild, just for sarah and john b.”

sarah nodded eagerly, her mouth full. “it’s really good. you should try it.”

john b held up his bowl. “yeah, man. it’s fire—but, like, the good kind. not the ‘i need milk’ kind.”

rafe hesitated, then sighed, grabbing a fork from the drawer. “fine. but if this is some kind of trick…”

“it’s not,” you promised, watching as he took a small bite.

to your delight, rafe’s eyebrows lifted slightly, and he nodded. “alright. this is actually good.”

“told you,” you said smugly, taking another bite from your own bowl.

rafe shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he grabbed a barstool and sat beside you. “i swear, you’re corrupting this entire house.”

“just making it more fun,” you said with a wink.

the four of you spent the next half hour sharing noodles and banter, the feeling of rafe’s initial annoyance melting away. by the time the pot was empty, even rafe seemed to admit that midnight noodles weren’t the worst tradition to start.

and as you leaned into his side, your bowl empty and your stomach full, you couldn’t help but smile. midnight chaos, sleepy rafe, and noodles—what more could you ask for?

the third time

the house was silent, and the air was still, except for the soft snores of your boyfriend beside you. you glanced at rafe, his face half-buried in the pillow, the rise and fall of his chest slow and steady.

you tried. you really did.

gently nudging his shoulder, you whispered, “rafe… babe, i’m hungry.”

nothing.

you shook him a little harder. “rafe, come on. midnight noodles?”

still nothing.

letting out a sigh, you stared at him for a moment, debating your next move. but his peaceful expression convinced you otherwise—it wasn’t worth waking the grumpy side of rafe cameron just for noodles.

so, you slipped out of bed, grabbed a hoodie, and padded downstairs, the craving for your beloved buldak carbonara too strong to ignore.

the kitchen was eerily quiet. it felt strange not having sarah, wheezie, or even john b around, their late-night antics usually keeping the house alive. you moved quietly, grabbing a pot and filling it with water. the pantry drawer creaked softly as you pulled it open to retrieve your prized noodle packet.

but just as you reached for it—

“ooh, are we making noodles again?”

you let out a startled yelp, spinning around to see wheezie standing there, her arms crossed and a mischievous grin plastered across her face.

“wheezie! what the hell? you scared me!” you hissed quietly, clutching the packet like it was your lifeline.

she shrugged, completely unbothered. “you were loud. i heard the drawer.”

“you are supposed to be asleep.”

“please,” she whined, hopping onto a barstool. “i’ve been waiting for this. i’m still mad i missed it last time.”

you groaned, setting the pot on the stove and turning on the heat. “okay, fine. but this time, you’re helping.”

“deal,” wheezie said, practically bouncing off the stool to join you. “what do i do?”

“start by getting the bowls,” you instructed, grabbing the scissors to cut open the noodle packet.

as wheezie rummaged through the cabinet, she started her mini rant. “sarah told me all about last time, by the way. midnight noodles with you, her, and john b? and nobody thought to wake me up? rude.”

she was midway through her mini rant, waving the sauce packet for emphasis, when a voice interrupted from the doorway.

“this, again?”

you froze, chopsticks clutched in your hand, and slowly turned toward the source. standing there, looking far too amused for someone who was supposedly asleep, was ward cameron himself.

wheezie nearly dropped the sauce packet. “dad?”

you tried to play it cool, giving him your best innocent look. “huh? again? no idea what you’re talking about.”

ward stepped into the kitchen, arms crossed and a sly smile on his face. “who do you think cleans this up in the morning? or keeps restocking the noodles? you guys go through five packs at a time.”

wheezie gasped, whipping around to face you. “you knew!”

ward chuckled, shaking his head. “of course, i knew.”

you winced, trying to salvage the situation. “well… uh, thank you for restocking?”

wheezie, recovering quickly, grinned. “wait, so you don’t care?”

“i didn’t say that,” ward replied, giving her a pointed look. “but i figured it was harmless. midnight noodles are better than midnight parties, i guess.”

before you could respond, another voice chimed in from behind him.

“ooh, it’s midnight noodle time?”

you turned to see sarah stroll into the kitchen, her hair messy and a gleam of excitement in her eyes. she took one look at the scene—the noodles, the bowls, and ward standing there—and grinned. “guess i came down at the perfect time.”

wheezie raised an eyebrow. “you weren’t even awake five minutes ago.”

“i have a sixth sense for these things,” sarah said smugly, grabbing a bowl and plopping herself onto a stool.

ward sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose but still smiling. “this house…” he muttered under his breath, though he didn’t leave.

you decided to just embrace the chaos, handing sarah the next sauce packet. “fine. let’s make it a semi-family noodle night, i guess.”

“finally,” wheezie said, grinning as she helped stir the pot.

“i’m not making my own, though,” sarah declared, leaning on the counter. “this is your thing.”

“you’re so lazy,” wheezie muttered, but she passed the finished noodles to you for seasoning anyway.

as the four of you stood there—cooking, laughing, and chatting—the kitchen felt strangely cozy. ward shared stories about catching rafe sneaking snacks as a kid, wheezie kept complaining about how long it took her to get in on the noodle tradition, and sarah teased you about how you’d turned her boyfriend’s house into a late-night ramen hub.

when the noodles were finally ready, the four of you sat down to eat, the conversation flowing easily.

“this is actually really good,” ward admitted after a few bites, surprising everyone.

“you’re just figuring that out now?” wheezie teased, twirling noodles onto her fork.

sarah leaned toward you conspiratorially, repeating rafe’s words from the last time. “you’ve corrupted the entire family.”

you laughed, glancing at ward, who just shook his head with a bemused smile. “maybe,” you said. “but at least we’re all well-fed.”

the kitchen was alive with laughter and the clinking of chopsticks against bowls. wheezie was dramatically recounting her missed opportunity during the last noodle night, sarah was making snarky comments between bites, and ward was suspiciously quiet as he polished off his bowl.

“dad, you’re eating like you’ve been waiting for this all day,” sarah teased, nudging his arm.

“not true,” ward replied, his tone far too casual to be convincing. “it’s just good.”

you were mid-bite when the sound of footsteps echoed down the stairs. everyone froze, turning toward the doorway.

there stood rose cameron, her silk robe tied snugly around her waist, her hair perfectly in place despite the late hour. she took in the scene before her: ward sitting at the island with an empty bowl, sarah and wheezie slurping cheesy noodles, and you standing at the stove stirring yet another batch.

her expression was a mixture of confusion and mild exasperation.

“what is going on here?” she demanded, crossing her arms.

wheezie, unfazed, waved her chopsticks in the air. “midnight noodles. want some?”

rose blinked, clearly processing the absurdity of the situation. “i beg your pardon?”

“midnight noodles,” sarah repeated, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “it’s kind of a thing now.”

rose’s gaze shifted to ward, her eyebrows lifting. “and you’re okay with this?”

ward shrugged, completely unbothered. “it’s harmless. besides, they’re good. you should try some.”

“harmless?” rose echoed, gesturing to the cluttered counter and sink full of pots. “do you know how much cleanup this is going to take?”

“i’ll clean it up,” you offered quickly, not wanting to face her full wrath.

rose gave you a pointed look, then sighed, shaking her head. “i swear, this family is impossible.”

“oh, come on, rose,” ward said, a teasing lilt in his voice. “live a little. have some noodles.”

sarah snorted into her bowl. “yeah, rose. don’t knock it till you try it.”

wheezie chimed in, grinning. “i mean, if dad’s eating it, you know it’s worth it.”

rose hesitated, clearly debating whether to shut the whole thing down or give in. finally, with an exasperated sigh, she threw up her hands. “fine. one bowl. but only to see what all this fuss is about.”

wheezie practically cheered as you quickly made a fresh serving for rose, this time dialing back the spice even more. she accepted the bowl reluctantly, sitting down at the island with the rest of the family.

as she took her first bite, everyone watched with bated breath.

“well?” sarah asked, smirking.

rose chewed slowly, her face giving nothing away. then, to everyone’s surprise, she nodded. “it’s… not bad.”

“not bad?” wheezie repeated, laughing. “that’s basically a rave review coming from you.”

rose rolled her eyes but took another bite, and the conversation picked up again, the kitchen filled with warmth and chaos.

when the pot was finally empty, rose stood up, brushing imaginary crumbs off her robe. “i’m going back to bed. and this better be spotless by morning.”

“yes, ma’am,” you said with a mock salute, earning a laugh from sarah and wheezie.

as rose disappeared up the stairs, ward leaned back in his chair, smirking. “told you she’d like it.”

before anyone could respond, the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps came from the hallway.

and then rafe appeared, leaning against the doorway, his hair sticking up at wild angles, his hoodie half on and his face a mix of confusion and irritation. he squinted at the scene before him: ward sitting with an empty bowl, wheezie and sarah with noodles in hand, and you standing at the stove with chopsticks in one hand and a sheepish expression on your face.

“i really don’t like this,” rafe said, his voice groggy. he gestured vaguely to the kitchen. “this is happening again? and you didn’t wake me again?”

“hi, baby,” you said with an awkward smile.

rafe just blinked at you, his expression unimpressed. “no, seriously. you’re downstairs, eating noodles with my entire family, and i’m… asleep?”

you shrugged, trying to keep a straight face. “i tried to wake you! you’re a very heavy sleeper, rafe.”

“that’s not—” rafe started, but sarah interrupted with a laugh.

“oh, don’t pout, rafe. you missed it because you sleep like a rock.”

wheezie grinned, pointing her chopsticks at him. “she’s right. we’re over here having the time of our lives, and you’re drooling into your pillow.”

“i don’t drool,” rafe said defensively, glaring at wheezie before turning his attention back to you. “you could’ve tried harder to wake me up.”

“i shook you! i whispered! i even said, ‘midnight noodles,’ and you didn’t budge!” you said, laughing now. “at some point, i had to just accept defeat.”

rafe let out an exaggerated sigh, running a hand down his face. “unbelievable. first wheezie and Sarah then sarah and john b, now my dad and wheezie and sarah again? what’s next, rose?”

“already happened,” sarah said, smirking. “she had a bowl. loved it.”

rafe stared at her, then at ward, who gave him a shrug and a knowing look.

“even rose?” rafe said, his voice bordering on betrayal. “really?”

“welcome to the club,” ward said with a chuckle. “you’re late, son.”

rafe groaned, walking into the kitchen and flopping onto a stool next to you. “fine. where’s mine?”

you grinned, handing him the last bowl you’d prepared. “right here. but it’s the mild version. i wasn’t about to make a new batch just for you.”

he took the bowl with a grumble but didn’t hesitate to dig in, the familiar taste of the noodles clearly softening his irritation.

“see? now everyone’s happy,” you said, leaning against his shoulder.

rafe looked at you, still chewing, and muttered, “barely.”

sarah rolled her eyes. “oh, calm down. you’re here now. the chaos is complete.”

bonus

it had been one of those long, exhausting days. you’d been running around, working on a million things at once—picking up groceries, answering calls, finishing tasks, and just trying to survive the whirlwind. by the time you and rafe finally collapsed into bed, you were wiped out, barely able to keep your eyes open. you fell asleep almost instantly, the weight of the past few days finally catching up to you.

rafe woke up a few hours later, his stomach growling in hunger. the soft moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a silvery glow on the room. je groggily turned toward you, only to find you sound asleep, your body curled up against the blankets.

he smiled softly at how peaceful you looked, but his stomach was practically screaming for food. he nudged you lightly, hoping you might stir—after all, you had made a habit of late-night noodles together.

“babe,” he whispered, giving your shoulder a gentle shake. “baby, you awake?”

but there was no response. you were out cold, snoring softly in a way that made it clear you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

he sighed. “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

a deep hunger gnawed at him, and despite the temptation to just sleep through it, he couldn't ignore his cravings. grumbling under his breath, he got out of bed, slipping into a pair of sweatpants and making his way downstairs.

rafe padded down the stairs, grumbling to himself. he could always just raid the pantry, but that wasn’t going to fill him up in the same way. he paused at the kitchen drawer and opened it, scanning for something sweet. when his eyes landed on a few cookies tucked in the corner, he grabbed one and took a bite, savoring the sugar for a moment.

still not enough to satisfy him.

he closed the drawer and walked further into the kitchen, noticing the faint light coming from the living room. there, sitting around the coffee table, were sarah, kiara, wheezie, and ward—all waiting expectantly.

when sarah heard the sound of footsteps approaching, she shot up, excited. “finally—”

she froze when she saw who it was. “oh. it’s just rafe.”

rafe rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his cookie and leaning against the doorframe. “yeah, thanks for the warm welcome. can’t a guy just get a midnight snack?”

“and what are you doing here, kie?”

kiara, sitting cross-legged on the couch, flashed him a wide grin. “well, i couldn’t miss it. i heard so much about this midnight noodle thing from sarah that i had to try it myself.” she gave sarah a playful nudge. “i heard it’s become a legendary tradition in this family.”

wheezie grinned softly. “oh, it’s definitely legendary.” she took her chopsticks and tapped them dramatically against the counter as she readied the noodles. “we’ve been having these late-night noodle sessions since last month. but guess who helped start this? me.”

rafe looked at her with an eyebrow raised, still processing the whole situation. “so, you guys just wait for me to wake up to make noodles?”

“no,” sarah chimed in, “we wait for you to wake up so we can eat noodles. it’s a whole process, you know.”

rafe was about to make a snarky remark when he felt his stomach growl loudly again. “alright, alright. i’m hungry. but seriously, i tried to wake up my girlfriend, and she’s a rock.”

“you couldn’t wake y/n up?” kiara asked, her brows furrowing.

“yeah,” rafe sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “she didn’t budge. i was this close to dumping a glass of water on her just to get a response.”

wheezie looked over at him with a raised brow. “you should’ve just offered her some noodles. you know, she never says no to these.”

rafe frowned. “that’s not the point, wheeze.”

he leaned back against the counter, still holding his cookie. he glanced over at his dad, who was sitting casually on the couch, watching the chaos unfold with a hint of amusement.

“okay, so i tried to wake her up,” rafe added, running a hand through his hair. “but she’s completely dead to the world. like, no reaction.”

ward raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “well, if she doesn’t wake up, who’s gonna make the noodles?”

the entire house went quiet for a moment. everyone turned to look at each other, the realization hitting them all at once. without you, there would be no noodles. the dreaded no noodle night.

wheezie, ever the problem-solver, jumped to her feet. “we can do it. right, sarah? we’ve got this. we’ve watched her do it like a thousand times.”

sarah stared at her, blinking in disbelief. “are you crazy?” she said, her voice incredulous. “none of us can make the noodles like she does! you think we’re capable of pulling off the perfect midnight noodle recipe? you’re out of your mind.”

wheezie held up her hands, trying to calm the storm. “no, seriously. it’s simple. boil water, add noodles, dump away some water, add cheese and cream, dump in the sauce. done.”

“yeah, except we always argue over how much of sauce to use,” sarah countered, throwing her hands in the air.

“okay, but we have to use right ingredients now,” wheezie said, her confidence growing. “i mean, last time y/n wasn’t here, was a disaster because you decided to add soy sauce to everything.”

“i was going for flavor,” sarah shot back defensively. “you just don’t understand the artistry of seasoning.”

kie, who had been quietly observing, suddenly broke in with a laugh. “honestly, i’d like to see you try, wheezie. if you can make them as good as she does, i’ll eat the whole pot.” she was clearly egging them on, just to see where this would go.

rafe glanced between his dad, sister, and the others, amused by the chaos. “i think they’re underestimating you, wheeze. you might be onto something.”

wheezie flashed a smug smile. “exactly! i’ve got this. just leave it to me.” she pulled out the packets of noodles, looking at sarah for confirmation. “so, are we doing the spicy ones, or the mild ones this time?”

sarah sighed dramatically. “i told you, we’re doing mild. mild. we don’t need another spicy incident like last time.”

“can we do both?” kiara interjected, leaning forward from the couch. “it’s not that hard, right?”

“yeah, no, we can’t,” sarah replied, arms crossed. “if we mix flavors, it’ll be a disaster. like last time.”

wheezie’s eyes narrowed. “you ruined the noodles last time, not me.”

“i did not ruin them,” sarah snapped back. “you ruined them by adding too much sauce, and then they were like… liquid lava. you can't make noodles that spicy.”

“it’s the right amount of spice!” wheezie shot back. “if you can’t handle it, that’s on you!”

“okay, okay,” rafe said, stepping between them, looking a little exasperated. “how about we just stick to one thing and avoid turning this into a nuclear war?” he glanced at ward, who was sitting quietly at the table, clearly enjoying the chaos. “dad, tell them it’s not worth arguing over noodles.”

ward took a slow sip of his drink and grinned. “i’m just here for the noodles, kid. not getting involved in this one.”

it was clear that, in this family, noodles became a big deal. and while he wasn’t sure they’d survive the night without you, it seemed they were determined to try. all of them deiced to move towards the kitchen, watching the scene unfold before them as wheezie and sarah tried to make the noodles.

“alright,” rafe said, grabbing a chair and sitting down at the table. “i’ll just sit back and watch this trainwreck.” he looked at kiara. “if they mess this up, we’re all gonna starve.”

kiara grinned and took a seat next to him. “i’m here for the drama.”

wheezie set the pot on the stove, clearly in charge now. “watch and learn, people.” she added the noodles with a flourish, clearly more confident than anyone else in the room.

sarah crossed her arms. “i’m just saying, if this goes south, i’m not taking the blame.”

wheezie rolled her eyes. “trust me, it’ll be perfect.”

ward watched the entire scene with a quiet smile, shaking his head. “i can’t wait to see how this ends.”

as they started getting the noodles cooking, chaos resumed. sarah grabbed the spoon to stir the pot, only to have wheezie take it from her and dramatically announce, “you’re stirring wrong. you’ve got to spin it, not just swirl it around like you’re mixing a salad.”

“oh, seriously, can we just cook the noodles?” sarah groaned, rolling her eyes. “you make everything more complicated than it needs to be.”

“i’m just trying to make sure we don’t ruin the noodles, alright?” wheezie shot back, obviously taking her task very seriously.

you stirred awake, groggy and slightly disoriented, as faint sounds drifted up the stairs. it started as a low hum of voices, but as you became more alert, it was unmistakably the sound of laughter, bickering, and... was that a pot clanging?

you glanced over at rafe’s side of the bed and found it empty. typical. his late-night hunger strikes again. sitting up, you stretched and yawned, your stomach grumbling faintly as if to agree with your decision to investigate.

quietly padding down the stairs, you followed the familiar smell of something spicy and savory. the closer you got to the kitchen, the more chaotic the scene revealed itself to be.

the first thing you saw was rafe and ward sitting at the table, both looking more amused than anything else. rafe was slouched in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, clearly over the chaos, while ward nursed a glass of something that was definitely not water, a small smirk playing on his lips.

but that wasn’t all.

kiara was the next to catch your eye. she stood up the moment she saw you, beaming. “hey! you’re awake!” she said, crossing the room in a few steps to pull you into a warm hug. “we missed you for the start of this noodle madness.”

“what... what is even happening here?” you asked groggily, still half-asleep as you glanced around.

“welcome to the show,” rafe called from the table, flashing you a lopsided grin. “apparently, if you don’t wake up to make noodles, the entire house loses its mind.”

at the stove, wheezie and sarah were engaged in what could only be described as a full-on noodle battle. wheezie was stirring a pot while sarah tried to take over, her voice rising with irritation.

“you’re stirring it wrong!” sarah snapped, reaching for the spoon in wheezie’s hand. “you’re not mixing the sauce properly. it’s gonna be uneven!”

“excuse me, i know what i’m doing!” wheezie retorted, pulling the spoon back. “you’re the one who always burns it. back off!”

“i don’t burn it!” sarah shouted, throwing her hands up dramatically. “i caramelize it for flavor!”

“that’s just fancy talk for burning it!” wheezie shot back.

you blinked, taking it all in. “is this... about noodles?”

“yup,” kie said with a laugh, guiding you toward the table. “and it’s been like this for almost twenty minutes. honestly, i don’t know how they haven’t burned the kitchen down yet.”

“they might still,” ward said casually, taking a slow sip from his glass. he gestured toward the chaos. “this is what happens when you don’t wake up. no one can agree on anything.”

“i tried to wake you,” rafe chimed in, shrugging. “you didn’t even budge. you were out cold.”

you gave him a small, apologetic smile as you slid into the chair beside him. “it’s been a long day. i didn’t even hear you.”

“well,” rafe said with a smirk, leaning closer, “now you can witness this mess firsthand.”

your stomach growled, pulling your focus back to the kitchen. “are they even close to being done?”

“define ‘close,’” rafe replied, gesturing toward the stove where the two sister were still fighting over the sauce packet.

“i’m adding all of it,” wheezie declared, her voice resolute as she began to tear open the packet.

“no, you’re not!” sarah said, grabbing her wrist. “do you want everyone’s mouths to catch fire? we’re adding half—half!”

“it’s not my fault you can’t handle spice!” wheezie quipped, holding the packet out of sarah’s reach.

“stop!” you called, finally stepping in. “wheezie, sarah, just—let me do it, okay? sit down before you two kill each other over noodles.”

they both froze, blinking at you like children caught misbehaving. Reluctantly, sarah handed you the spoon while wheezie stepped back, muttering, “i was doing fine, but okay.”

you took over, quickly finishing the noodles with a practiced ease. in no time, the pot was off the stove, and you were dividing the steaming noodles into bowls.

as you placed a bowl in front of rafe, he gave you a look of pure gratitude. “this is why i need you, babe. no one else can handle these lunatics.”

ward chuckled. “true. if you hadn’t come down, we might’ve been here all night.”

kie grinned, holding up her chopsticks. “well, i’m glad i stayed for this. midnight noodles are officially my new favorite thing.”

sarah huffed, still glaring at wheezie. “next time, we’re doing it my way.”

“not if i get to the kitchen first,” wheezie shot back, smirking.

you rolled your eyes playfully as you took a seat beside rafe, finally ready to enjoy the meal. “remind me to never sleep through this again.”

“please don’t,” he said, leaning over to steal a bite from your bowl. “i don’t think my sanity can take another night like this.”

with laughter echoing around the room and the comforting warmth of noodles filling the air, you couldn’t help but smile. midnight noodles were chaotic, ridiculous, and absolutely perfect in their own way.

+ one time he cooks for you

the house was unusually quiet, with rose and ward away in the bahamas for business, wheezie holed up in her room, and sarah at the chateau with john b. normally, the lack of chaos would’ve been a treat, but today, the stillness only amplified how awful you felt. you were bundled up in a blanket on the couch, sniffling and surrounded by a collection of crumpled tissues, trying to find some comfort in the familiar melodies of frozen 2.

rafe sat beside you, his arm draped lazily across the back of the couch, occasionally glancing at you with concern. “you need anything, baby?” he asked softly, careful not to disturb you too much.

you sniffled, curling further into your fluffy blanket. “i’m kinda hungry,” you admitted, your voice hoarse.

he gave you a small smile. “alright, i’ve got this. how about your favorite noodles?”

your face lit up, despite your exhaustion, and you nodded. “that sounds amazing.”

rafe stood up, stretching briefly before leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “be right back,” he murmured, heading for the stairs. quietly, he knocked on wheezie’s door, sticking his head in when she called out. “hey, i’m making noodles for her. you wanna help?”

wheezie’s eyes lit up immediately. “obviously. let’s go!”

the two of them got to work in the kitchen, keeping their voices low and trying not to make too much noise. wheezie buzzed with excitement, pulling out the noodles and sauces while rafe set a pot of water on the stove.

“don’t forget to stir it, or it’ll stick to the bottom,” wheezie reminded him, sounding like a seasoned pro.

“i know,i know, wheeze” rafe said, rolling his eyes but smiling. “you’re not the noodle boss here.”

“actually, i am,” wheezie retorted, sticking her tongue out at him. “you just don’t wanna admit it.”

suddenly, the front door opened, and john b’s voice echoed down the hall. “anyone home?”

sarah’s voice followed. “oh my gosh, it smells so good in here.”

“living room!” you called weakly, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself as they appeared in the doorway.

sarah gasped when she saw you. “oh no, my baby, what happened to you? you look awful.”

“gee, thanks,” you said, smiling faintly. “just a cold. nothing dramatic.”

john b plopped down in the armchair while sarah sat on the edge of the couch near your feet. her eyes flicked to the tv. “frozen 2 again?”

“it’s her favorite,” rafe called from the kitchen, his voice full of affection.

“it’s the best,” you said passionately, sitting up a little. “the music is incredible, the animation is stunning, and elsa’s whole journey of self-discovery—ugh, it’s just perfect.”

sarah smiled. “okay, until olaf’s whole ‘dying’ scene. that was devastating and uncalled for.”

you nodded fervently. “don’t remind me. i cry every single time.”

john b chimed in. “but he comes back! like, i get it’s sad, but he’s fine in the end.”

“that doesn’t make it less emotional,” you countered. “and don’t even get me started on elsa being an absolute badass in the glacier. her solo scene? literal chills—no pun intended.”

sarah laughed. “i think you’ve seen this movie too many times.”

“not possible,” you said firmly. “the frozen movies are cinematic perfection.”

“alright, noodle delivery!” rafe interrupted, entering the room with a pot in his hands. wheezie trailed behind him, carrying extra napkins and plates.

“for the first time in forever—” wheezie began to sing, only for rafe to cut her off.

“nope. we’re not doing that.”

“but it’s perfect!” wheezie protested as she set the napkins down. “you’re no fun.”

the noodles smelled amazing, and you wasted no time digging in, the spicy warmth soothing your throat. everyone else followed suit, and for the first time ever, you all ate together on the couch, passing bowls and joking about the movie.

as the night wore on, your exhaustion crept back in. your head gradually drifted to rafe’s shoulder, your bowl empty in your lap. he adjusted his position slightly, careful not to wake you, and wrapped an arm around you protectively.

“out like a light,” john b said, nodding toward you with a small smile.

rafe glanced down at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “she’s had a rough day,” he said quietly. “she deserves some rest.”

sarah pulled a blanket over you both. “she’s got a good one, rafe. don’t screw it up.”

he chuckled softly, his hand resting on your arm. “yeah,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. “i know.”

and with the movie’s credits rolling in the background, the warm camaraderie of the group filled the quiet house, leaving the night feeling cozy and perfect.

CURRENT TAGLIST⋆⭒˚｡⋆

@maybankslover ⟢ @diorstarkey ⟢ @user28388727 ⟢ @jznyy ⟢ @honeyluvsatj ⟢ @hypnotizedstarkey

[astonmartinii]

other side of the moon - chapter three | formula one imagine

chapter three: home away from home

pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli

back in monaco for the first time after the crash, y/n reckons with ghosts from the past and the uncertain future.

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | PART ONE | PART TWO

despite the hefty price tag of the cat carrier, brando looks less than impressed. y/n continued to try and coax him in with a treat but the cat was suspicious to say the least.

“please get in the carrier brando,” she waved the treat in his face again, “we’re going to see max! you love max and you don’t mind kimi, yeah? remember them? we just have a short 16 hour drive because your lordship doesn’t like planes so can we please get in the carrier?”

brando bit into the treat and slowly made his way into the carrier looking sorry for himself. the biggest and final chore was now done with minimal guilt, she would take that. y/n wasn’t moving to monaco - no, she prided herself on being one of the only drivers to not make that jump, but she also didn’t exactly know when she was coming back.

there was less than a month until car launches and tests and max insisted on hosting some team-bonding sessions for her and kimi. it was probably just an excuse to see her before she is ‘tainted by mercedes’, but y/n found herself excited to see the dutchman again.

the suitcases were by the door and the plants had been watered, it was now or never. crossing the boundary of her front door, it dawned on y/n that her life was changing again. there wasn’t quite the excitement she had leading up to her first race in formula one, but she could feel the butterflies threatening to return.

the door clicked shut and the next phase started. in the lobby of her building, y/n approached the front desk.

“hi frank,” y/n said to the concierge, “i’m going away for a little while so could you keep all of my mail together for me?”

the older man smiled up at her. frank had been working at this building since y/n first moved in. he had tried to hide that he was a formula one fan but wasn’t quite successful. he had stuttered when she had turned up one evening, cap low on her head and oversized sunglasses despite the darkness.

“miss y/ln, would you like me to help you with your bags?”

y/n had frozen when frank said her name. frank had taken his hat off, trying to sort out the salt and pepper freckled hair on his head.

“i’m so sorry miss y/ln, that was unprofessional of me. as you now know, i am aware of who you are, i hope this does not make you uncomfortable. we will do anything you need to be comfortable here.”

y/n had also taken off her hat and looked frank in the eye. she deemed him sincere and allowed herself two minutes of respite from her burning anger. “no worries,” she looks down at his name tag, “frank. i would love some help, maybe on a better day i can sign something for you? other than these bags, i’d really love if this being my home was just something we keep between us.”

frank mock saluted and started grabbing bags.

“you won’t be gone forever will you, miss y/ln?” frank asked, pulling y/n back. the older man looked uncharacteristically worried.

“and miss our scintillating conversations? i would never! i assume you’ve heard i’ve taken the job with kimi? i’m going to do some ‘team-bonding’ with him in monaco and then i’ll be back”

frank took one of her suitcases, helping her to the garage.

“monaco you say? you wouldn’t be staying with the handsome dutchman by any chance,” frank said, raising an eyebrow in question.

“i might be?” y/n opened the door of her pink cadillac, “was it you who let him and kimi up without my permission, frank?”

“guilty as charged ma’am, but they were there with good purpose so i just had to”

frank continued loading the car with her suitcases, opening the back door and securing brando’s carrier in place.

“he also gave me a signed pair of race gloves, sorry!”

y/n exclaimed as she shut the door of the car. “i knew he was bribing you! but yes, i guess i am glad you let them up - for now.”

frank pulled y/n in for a hug. she let it linger before clearing her throat and pulling back.

“i know i’m just an old man, but it’s nice to see you excited about something again. you came to me three years ago a broken girl with a constant face like thunder,” frank pinched her cheek, “but here you are, ready to conquer the world again. i am proud of you. but don’t get too lost in your new role to not see what’s right in front of you.”

y/n was confused. frank continued, “the crash took a lot from you, but it did not make you unloveable. give people a chance.”

the older man stepped back and gave her a wave.

“make sure you make enough stops and get some sleep, it’s a long drive to monaco. say hi to max for me.”

frank turned and made his way back into the building. y/n sighed and climbed into her car. the pink cadillac was hardly subtle but she had banished all of her other cars to a different garage three years again so it would simply have to do.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, kimiantonelli and 11,304,788 others

yourusername: sixteen hour road trip ahead of us, i hope brando is ready to get real acquainted with taylor swift's discography

view all comments

user1: she’s so cute

user2: it’s the pink caddy!!!

user3: y/n is back in formula one and is driving the pink cadillac - never kill yourself

charles_leclerc: okay miss active on instagram

yourusername: had to come back and steal all the likes from you obviously

charles_leclerc: oh yes please remind me how you still have double the followers i do when you haven’t posted in three years?

yourusername: idk sounds like you have a skill issue to me

charles_leclerc: sixteen hours and you’re back on my stomping ground… watch it missy

yourusername: i will watch

yourusername: because i know you and you will grovel

charles_leclerc: maybe…

charles_leclerc: i’ve missed you, sue me!

yourusername: i just might!

charles_leclerc: wait-!

user4: all these reunions are making me sappy

user5: i’m stuck on the fact that y/n is driving all the way to monaco?

yourusername: brando doesn’t like flying 😕

user6: oh to be a high maintenance cat of a rich person

maxverstappen1: jimmy and sassy are eagerly awaiting your arrival

yourusername: awwww i’ve missed them

maxverstappen1: i was talking to brando…

yourusername: rightttttt

maxverstappen1: but i am eagerly awaiting your arrival

yourusername: as you should be

maxverstappen1: i stocked up on all your weird english biscuits and everything

yourusername: you’re too precious

user7: oh to have a bond like theirs

user8: i fear it’s a trauma bond

user9: it’s still cute!

kimiantonelli: can’t wait to get started miss y/ln

yourusername: please call me y/n kimi you’re making me feel so old

kimiantonelli: oki

kimiantonelli: miss y/ln what kind of pasta do you like

kimiantonelli: *y/n what kind of pasta do you like

olliebearman: you are such a failure omg

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

the road was quiet, with taylor swift’s voice filling the silence. y/n had exhausted the conversation with brando, who was tuckered out in the backseat. by now the pair we deep into france, y/n had stopped being able to translate the road signs many miles ago.

the thought of returning to monaco was daunting. there would be ghosts around every corner and memories that y/n wasn’t sure she was ready to confront. y/n wasn’t even sure which drivers even lived in the principality any more - however, she knew that her former teammate did.

lando norris was a bit of an enigma in y/n’s life. there were early growing pains in their friendship? work relationship? but as the 2021 season rolled around, she thought they had finally been ironed out. the gap was slim, but lando had outscored her in 2020, so his ego was still intact and that made him a little more enjoyable to be around.

y/n wasn’t sure who or what had pushed lando over the edge of accepting her as a teammate and not just a mere annoyance, but january 2021 was night and day from her rookie season. y/n had a sneaking suspicion that lando had been subject of some heated PR meetings over the christmas break, but as long as she wasn’t in them, she didn’t really care.

suddenly there was a shift in the atmosphere. lando spoke to her outside of meetings, in between video takes and checked in over the breaks. suddenly lando knew the name of her friends, where she had gone on holiday and her favourite food. y/n didn’t think much of it at the time. but then came everything else.

july 2021.

y/n didn’t tend to spend long on social media, why open herself up to the opinions of stupid people just because they were loud? one morning, a sunny one in monaco, y/n received a flurry of texts from her trainer luca. ripped from her yoga session on max’s balcony, y/n checked her texts.

luca: is there other strenuous activities i need to be aware of?

luca: tiktok.com/userlandonorris/reposts

luca: if this is a thing, should jon and i coordinate training plans?

huh?

y/n clicked the link and was taken to lando’s tiktok page. she felt like an old woman trying to navigate the app but finally found the reposts. the first few she saw were edits of herself? and then a couple talking about “finally being understood by that person” and some other more charged in nature.

what the fuck. there wasn’t a normal day in this team it seemed. y/n pulled back the door and went to find max. the dutchman was tucked into bed, still sore from silverstone just two weeks earlier.

“have you seen this shit?” y/n said, shoving her phone in max’s face, “i mean what does this even mean? 69? i didn’t even know lando could count that high?”

“i think he’s referencing sex, y/n”

“i know he’s referencing sex idiot! why is he referencing having sex with me?!”

“i don’t know, you’re the dumbass who joined that team - he’s probably trying to like get you on side after the shit he pulled in austria and is doing it in classic dumbass lando fashion.”

austria had been eventful. both lando and y/n had somewhat slow starts to the season, with just one podium to their names by the time they pulled up to the red bull ring. the two papaya cars lined up fourth and fifth on the grid, with y/n managing to edge in front of her teammate, which meant the two were subjected to the word teamwork 72 times in a 45 minute meeting (y/n had counted).

when the lights went out, y/n got the jump on the ferrari of sainz ahead of her, wrestling her way past the spaniard and up into third. with cleaner air, max had already wrangled a healthy three second gap back to her and was hunting down lewis, so she focused on keeping the prancing horse behind her. as they approached the steep incline, carlos jerked out to the right and tried his luck up the inside. the spaniard was heavy on his brakes, burning up his tyres as he missed the apex and shunted his front wing into y/n’s front right tyre.

the contact didn’t manage to cause a puncture or any terminal body damage, but the push had made way for carlos, lando and charles to slide past her as she strained to keep her mclaren from going into the gravel trap.

“what the hell was that?” y/n asked down the radio, keeping her eyes focused on charles’ ferrari down the road. “do i have any damage?”

“no damage that we can see. hang back for a couple of laps, the ferraris are eating their tyres and will fall back to you.” jude, her usually cool race engineer, had a bite to his voice.

taking the corner as tight as she could y/n barked back, “surely he has to give that place back? he forced me off the track?!” y/n was practically vibrating, with anger or from the force on her tyres, she wasn’t sure yet. “just keep your head down, we’ll get back to you,” hugo replied.

the ferrari of charles was getting further and further down the road. “hugo their tyres aren’t falling off, can i hunt them down yet? what about this penalty?” it was like talking to a brick wall as the pit wall didn’t reply. y/n bit down the urge to swear up a storm and put her foot down with renewed vigour.

by the next lap y/n had managed to battle her way into charles’ drs and was priming her tyres for a late move further down the track. charles tried to cut off the slip stream and predict which side y/n might choose, but it wasn’t enough as the mclaren breezed past charles before they even hit the apex.

unbeknownst to y/n the silence from hugo was indicative of the larger argument happening on the pit wall. despite putting massive flatspots on his tyres, lando had yet to make his way past sainz’s ferrari. will, lando’s race engineer, was deep in discussion with him over the radio (which would’ve made quite entertaining viewing for y/n after the fact if it didn’t concern her so deeply).

“lando we are confident that sainz will get a penalty. y/n has cleared charles, we need you to back sainz into y/n so she can overtake. when she does we want you to give the position back.”

and if that wasn’t the sentence that summoned the shitstorm.

“why should i give the position back? i did nothing wrong?”

lando kept his foot down and increased the gap between himself and sainz. will’s voice rang out on the radio again,

“lando. sainz pushed y/n off track and you all gained positions, the right thing to do is to give the position back.”

that was a red flag to a raging lando. he let off a spiel that had made the post-race debrief and all media duties torture for the pair of them.

“carlos did nothing wrong and i did nothing wrong. y/n needs to learn we won’t just let her past like schumacher did. tell her to hurry up if she wants this position back, i won’t give her a podium just because she can’t defend.”

there was silence on the mclaren radio for a few moments. there was even silence on the broadcasts. no one quite knew what to say to that.

y/n had closed in on sainz, hundredths away from being in the spaniard’s drs range. her radio finally crackled back to life, “y/n you have full permission to use your tyres, we aim to pit soon. you are free to race with lando.”

excuse me? on one hand y/n was glad, there had been a couple awkward moments already this season where she had been told to hold position and not fight. however, that was her position, lost through no fault of her own?

“i am free to race? he should give me that position!”

“you are free to race. head down and clear sainz before we discuss again.”

this was bullshit. she knew it, hugo knew it, zak brown knew it, the broadcast team knew it and deep down lando knew it too. sainz was an easy pass for y/n in the end as she pipped him on the start finish straight. lando had a three second advantage which meant that y/n had some free air to cool down her tyres and get ready to fight her teammate. she would be clean but she was finishing on that podium whether he liked it or not.

within two laps y/n had completely dropped sainz and was breathing down the neck of lando. she was within his drs range as they rounded the final corner but before she could launch an attack lando swerved into the pit lane. that was an early stop? y/n quietly thought to herself that it seemed all too convenient that he was called into pit just as she was about to catch him… not that it really bothered her all too much, the over cut was more powerful at austria, so if she kept her good pace, she should come back out in front of her teammate.

many laps later and a late pit stop for y/n, the younger mclaren driver proudly picked up her second podium of the season. she hauled herself out of the car in parc ferme and immediately embraced max who had once again managed to win his quasi home race, catching lewis with ten laps to go.

once she had been weighed, y/n made her way to the interviews, glad to see it would be jenson conducting them - he always gave her nice questions.

“up first we have our third place finisher, the incomparable y/n y/ln! what a stint on those mediums, i thought for a second you were going to go all the way on them!” jenson said with a wide grin.

“thank you jenson! yeah… after the first lap i thought my race was pretty screwed… the fia took their time with carlos’ penalty so i had to regain my positions myself… but i think all in all it was a good race i’m glad to being going into my home race on the high of a podium and i’ll be looking to do even better there!”

jenson smiled at her but started to pick at his nails, a telltale sign he was going to have to ask a question he didn’t want to ask. “not to bring you down after a great race, but i must ask, what do you make of lando’s comments on the radio?”

y/n was puzzled, and her face showed that much. she started stuttering and shrugging. one of the production assistants behind jenson passed her a phone and pressed play. y/n held the phone up to her ear and felt the words rush over her.

“carlos did nothing wrong and i did nothing wrong. y/n needs to learn we won’t just let her past like schumacher did. tell her to hurry up if she wants this position back, i won’t give her a podium just because she can’t defend.”

oh. okay. y/n knew she needed to take a couple breaths before she responded or she would say something she would regret. people would probably forget about lando’s comments by next week but if she said something like that she’d be stuck with the brat label for the rest of her career.

“that’s disappointing for sure to hear. third and fourth is a good result for the team and it ended how it should’ve. we’ll discuss this with the team but for right now i’m going to celebrate my podium and drink some champagne!”

jenson gave her a nod to say she did well and beckoned over lewis. y/n walked back to the side of the podium pen and slid in next to max.

“who the fuck does he think he is saying that? i’m being serious, someones got to knock some sense into him,” max said under his breath, aware cameras were still on them.

“i know, it’s bullshit, but i doubt they’ll say anything severe to him.”

just as y/n was making peace with the fact there would be no severe consequences for lando, her and max turned to see the man himself in the media pen. intrigued, both listened in on his interview.

“it sounds bad on the radio, yes. but i stand by the message, maybe not the delivery. this is formula one and y/n needs to know that you can’t just bat your eyelashes and be let by.” lando’s PR handler cuts the interview there and drags him back towards the mclaren garage, barely concealing her anger on her face.

“well, well, well.”

max groaned from under the blanket he had wrapped over his head, snapping y/n out of it.

“yes he was a massive knob in austria, as per usual, but i don’t understand how implying he’s sleeping with me makes it any better? it makes it look so much worse!”

“can you stop bothering me about it i think you just retriggered my concussion.”

“i don’t think that’s a thing, max,” y/n said and then her phone chimed, “speak of the devil, he’s asked if we can go for some lunch to ‘discuss the season’ whatever the fuck that means”

“good leave me alone”

“we’re going to luigi’s do you want me to get you some carpaccio to go?”

“i actually take it back, i love you - yes.”

y/n refilled his water and got his painkillers from the kitchen before she slipped on her shoes and made her way out of the complex. this is what was confusing about lando. he was more than happy to berate her on the radio but then would set up meetings like this like nothing had happened. usually y/n could write it off as a heat of the moment thing - she had once called mick an ‘incompetent cunt with shit hair’ on the radio so she definitely understood it. but it never stopped there, media duties were the death of lando and y/n was interested to see how he aimed to worm his way out of this one.

luigi’s was surprisingly busy for a tuesday afternoon but y/n spotted lando easily with his big jumper in the july heat. lando didn’t stand up to greet her so y/n just sat down as soon as she got to the table.

“do you know what you want to order?” lando snapped the menu shut and looked over to her.

“i’m doing well lando, thanks for asking,” y/n muttered sarcastically, “i’m just going to get some of the salmon, it’s good here.”

the waiter turned up just as she put the menu down and y/n ordered the salmon, a juice and the carpaccio to go. lando had ordered some chicken salad and a water. once the waiter had left he hissed at y/n, “did you order that on purpose?”

“what?”

“the salmon.”

“are you allergic or?”

“no?”

“then what’s the big deal? i like salmon, it’s good for you.”

“i hate fish. everyone knows i hate fish. i invited you here to sort things out and you’re already starting with the mind games.”

y/n’s mouth fell open. he was actually being serious.

“you know not everything is about you right? salmon is in my meal plan and they cook it nicely here. i don’t think about you in everything i do.”

lando huffed, whispering a ‘that i’m sure of’ to himself. this was so childish, and y/n was very to let lando know that. “do you want to repeat yourself lando? or are you going to continue to be a child?”

lando was taken aback, “me being a child? says you! i wanted to talk this out after silverstone like we planned? you were going to come to see my family and everything. they were so excited to meet you, especially my sisters. but no, you let me, let us down!”

y/n actually laughed in disbelief. “i told you i was sorry about silverstone and i was, but max needed me and in that moment he was who i had to be with.”

“it’s always max, isn’t it?”

“he was airlifted to the hospital lando, i’m sure he would’ve preferred me hang out with your family than have to do that again.”

lando had started to rip apart the napkins, a sign he was desperately trying to regulate himself.

“you always choose him! you choose him then, you only stay at his when you’re in monaco - you’re even picking up food for him on our date!”

“our date? are you kidding me? i’m going to ignore that,” y/n took a sip of water,” and for max? i care about him deeply and he was in hospital after a very dangerous crash!”

“then why don’t you care about me? huh?” lando was getting choked up, “you’ve never been there for me when i’ve crashed?”

now y/n was even more confused. lando had wanted her to be there for him when he had crashed but also couldn’t stand to be around her longer than necessary until this season. this boy was such a headfuck.

“you fucking hated me last season lando. and the way you’re acting here and how you acted in austria don’t really tell me that you like me any more.”

lando huffed and crossed his arms like a child. y/n continued, “this is what i don’t get with you. you can’t stand me all last season, literally refusing to call me by my name, only calling me rookie and running from meetings as soon as you can but now, now! i need to be there for your every need. now you can repost dumb tiktoks and fuel rumours about us?”

“they told me we needed to look closer!”

“so you decided to tell the world we’re fucking?”

“i didn’t say that!”

“you basically did, i saw the reposts. and for your information i would never fuck you in a million years.”

“no, that’s for max only isn’t it?”

“what is you people’s fucking obsession with thinking i am sleeping with someone on the grid? is it that inconceivable that i might be able to exist around my fellow drivers without trying to sleep with them?”

“well you should stop acting like you are then!”

y/n stood up abruptly, scraping the chair across the floor. she hastily grabbed her stuff and slotted her sunglasses back.

“you can send me what i owe for the lunch, i don’t feel like sitting here and being berated because you can’t handle this season. you know who actually has something to be stressed about, the guy actually in the title battle, who is in bed still recovering from a crash. so goodbye lando, i’m going to go take care of my friend who actually cares about me and can talk to me without belittling me.”

she sweeped out of the restaurant, the waiter at the entrance saw her coming and passed her the carpaccio. the heat of monaco was sweltering but the drama between her and her teammate was heating up even more.

present.

y/n was still none the wiser about how she felt about lando, even all these years later. something inside of her wanted to reach out to him, reassure him that he was good enough, especially after how 2024 had panned out, but then the memories of their time together at mclaren come flooding back and she feels content with her silence.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

texts between y/n y/ln (bold) and charles leclerc (italics)

little birdy told me you’re back in monaco

by little birdy i mean your instagram post

omg have you considered a career switch to being a detective?

you’re mean

anyway!

cocktail night at mine tonight

i guess you can bring your losers too

yes that includes ollie before kimi asks

wow that’s a big assumption that i’m going to say yes

drinking on my dime? when have you ever said no?

you have a good point

i’ll be there at 8 - losers in tow

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

“we get to go to a cocktail night at charles? oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

kimi squealed down the phone to y/n, “hold on let me tell ollie, we’ve got to get ready!”

y/n could hear him shuffling through their shared flat, “it doesn’t start for another like three hours kimi!”

the two boys had started excitedly discussing outfits and which cocktails are the ‘cool’ ones.

“we’ll swing by yours at 7:45, be ready we won’t wait.”

y/n hung up and turned to max smiling, they were so cute. the two of them had been curled up on the couch with the cats for the majority of the afternoon as y/n was catching up on sleep. the brit turned to max,

“oh i forgot to tell you,” max perked up, “guess who came to my apartment after the GQ thing?”

max shrugged, throwing a toy for jimmy.

“lewis.”

“hamilton?”

“yeah!”

max’s eyes sharpened, “why would he be at yours?”

“wouldn’t you know? you’re the one who gave him my address,” y/n replied, trying to make eye contact with max who was avoiding her gaze.

“yeah i thought he was going to send you like condolence flowers or something not show up unannounced?”

both of them had sat up at this point. brando was sat between them, looking between them confused.

“he showed up and complimented my dress. i asked him if he was sad he missed me at mercedes and he like proper leaned in and asked what i could possibly teach him? kissed my hand and left. it was weird.”

y/n laughed as she recounted the story but max wasn’t laughing.

“it’s funny max, you’re meant to laugh.”

max forces out a sarcastic laugh.

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing. i just think it’s weird. food for thought.”

“don’t worry he won’t replace you. you’ll always be my favourite.”

max smiled at that. he piled on top of her, with brando squished in the middle.

“you’ll always stay at mine in monaco right? i’ll always be your best friend on the grid?”

“always,” y/n said, tucking one of max’s hairs behind his ear, “beside where else would i stay? in kimi and ollie’s bachelor pad? i’d rather die”

max let out a laugh and let his head fall on y/n’s chest, her hands immediately tangling in his hair.

“i’m sorry for that. i just love you and our bond, i get jealous that mr seven titles might steal you away.”

“away from you? they’d have to take me kicking and screaming. you’re the only one who had my address, you’re the only one i spoke to in the three years. don’t think i’ll ever not have you first.”

the cocktail party was nearing, but the pair were content to stay tangled on the couch, with a grumpy brando tucked in between them. outside of the apartment, the ghosts of monaco still lingered. maybe it was a good thing charles had a weird obsession with cocktails and his at home bar, y/n could use some liquid courage tonight.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, pierregasly and 2,304,667 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: it’s been three years and she still can’t mix drinks.

view all comments

user1: war is officially over

user2: i hope nothing bad happened between them but it is stuck in my mind that they didn’t talk in the three years

user3: i’m hoping she just flat out wasn’t speaking to anyone but max and charles did nothing bad

user4: his tribute post is still up which others can’t say so

kimiantonelli: i think her drinks are just right!

yourusername: i think we’re gonna work so well together

kimiantonelli: i think so toooooooooo

olliebearman: he’s just really drunk?

yourusername: so he’s not always like this?

olliebearman: loud? not really. but hanging off every word you say? yeah that’s pretty normal

user5: oh how i’ve missed my beautiful wife

user6: lando’s beautiful wife

user7: nuh uh george’s

user8: what about the guy who actually posted it

user9: i actually think you all should kill yourselves!

yourusername: i’m really not that bad you just have bad tolerance

charles_leclerc: i have measuring tools right there and you insist on doing the ‘y/n pour’

yourusername: does the ‘y/n pour’ get the party started or not?

pierregasly: yes because everyone is pissed by 9pm

yourusername: is that not the aim of a party

charles_leclerc: this is a sophisticated soiree - i even bought olives for this

yourusername: oh please

maxverstappen1: i think it would be funnier to watch everyone drunk stumbling around y/n

charles_leclerc: okay well we’d all be a bit more chill if you didn’t gatekeep her for three years

maxverstappen1: don’t care 😛

user10: max is the level of unbothered i need to be right now

user11: he’s on necks even in the off season

user12: so who else is to come?

user13: please please please let the brits be there i need my dose of y/nlando

user14: they're meant to be i swear

user15: oh my sweet summer child

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

fin.

note: enjoy my quick updates while you can i am back at my big girl job tomorrow :((((( but i will try to keep up with this pace where i can!

taglist: @folkloresreputation @hc-dutch @shimmermotorsport @96mcobo @eclipsedcherry @formulaal @czennieszn @gothicwidowsworld @emily-b @suns3treading @henna006 @kazgirl20 @anotherapollokid @littlegrapejuice @daemyratwst @annimausi @yawn-zi @lulu-1998 @xsilkesworld @justaf1girl @daddyslittlevillain @evans-dejong @abq654 @elizamoe133 @wierdflowerpower @t1nkerbel1 @okcurran @raizelchrysanderoctavius @skepvids @multilovebot @fernandoalonso14 @jules-kup-172 @m4xgirlie @rorabelle15 @minkyungseokie @formula1-motogpfan @peterholland04 @miureiz @freyathehuntress @lighttsoutlewis @aleatorio1234 @chaosandevelyn

[dear-ao3]

by popular request: how to write an email

a disclaimer that this is the specific kind of email you send when people are absolutely smiting you and you know a phone call or an in person meeting is not possible/will not help. like youre 12 emails deep in an email chain and going in circles. youve been re routed to 13 offices 4 separate times. those kind of emails.

credentials: ive taken something like 13 semesters of college (dont ask) and every single semester have had to fight at least 3 offices for varying reasons in order to take classes. (including one time where i was shorted 5k in financial aid. i ended up getting 200 more dollars than i needed in the end) also my dad taught me everything he knows about emails (hes a tradesman turned corporate man and most of his job consists of telling people (nicely) that what theyre doing sucks and makes absolutely no sense)

Step 1: figure out who the email needs to go go

there is nothing wrong with emailing 11 million people if it gets the job done. if someone isnt helping you and you Know that they Should Be feel free to start to copy their boss on the email. copy your boss on an email. (or advisor or whoever). even if you think the person might only be like Vaguely helpful, sometimes people know people.

also theres nothing wrong with emailing the same email to several departments. sometimes you have to make a lot of noise to get something done (again. as like a last resort. dont email 11 million people right out of the gate)

Step 2: remember to be Polite

a very tempting step to ignore especially when you are 13 thousand emails deep in problems. but! if you are not nice to them! they will probably continue to smite you in the future! you want to make friends! not foes! so no matter how much people are smiting you, try to resist the urge to be an utter dipshit because it will not get the job done. vent to a friend or a coworker and send your polite and nice email

Step 3: articulate the problem Clearly.

a very important step. especially if you are adding more people to your email chain. dont assume they know your exact problem. they probably are dealing with other problems. articulate Clearly what is happening, no matter how long the email may be. its far better to get a long and detailed email rather than a non helpful short one. that will only prolong the process of how long it takes the problem to get solved.

Step 4: cite your reciepts.

wildly important. send your screenshots your attachments your whatever the fucking fuck youve got. its always good to have a paper trail. this is also where you would state any previously attempts to have the problem Sorted (ie i reached out to x person on x y and z days about x problem and it is still not resolved). you would not believe how many people dont scroll down in an email, especially a forwarded/replied one. so summarize whats Down There in your most recent email

Step 5: use the appropriate lingo

you dont have to be Overly Formal but there are a few good Buzz Sentences that usually get the job done. for example:

As Per My Last Email: a great line. emphasizes that youve already mentioned this. and this is not the first time youre mentioning this point. also emphasizes that the Thing has yet to be solved

See Attached/See Below: under utilized. again. people do not open attachments and they do not scroll down. almost had a friend once fail a class because a professor gas lit them in an email chain saying they didnt receive the final paper when the paper itself was attached earlier in the email chain. be Painfully Literal. it pays off.

Help Me To Understand: this is one of my dad's favorite lines. it really shows that you have no fucking idea what the person youre emailing is getting at and youre offering them the opportunity to spell out their nonsense for you. so that you can then be like. well. clearly This is where the miscommunication lies. its a great line. has saved my ass many times. because it is not accusing it is just offering someone to understand. it does not attack. it just is.

Step 6: give a polite sign off.

something along the lines of "thank you in advance for any help" or "i look forward to hearing from you" does the job. something that sends the message you are not pissed to shit at them even if you are.

Step 7: follow up and follow up often.

polite email response time is 48 business hours/2 business days. if it has been longer than that you have every right to email back and say hi x person just following up on this email, have you had the chance to review it yet? again. keep it polite. you actually want them to help you. and if they still dont respond well then maybe its time to loop in a boss or a supervisor or whoever the hell else. dont be afraid to go above them if you need to. nothing wrong with getting shit done when it needs to get done.

and really, if all that fails, as my dad says, a little office bribe in the form of cookies has never hurt anyone :)

so an email. should be formatted something like this:

Greetings/Good Morning (Afternoon) (Person)

I hope this email finds you well (or something similar for a greeting). I am reaching out regarding X incident/problem/whatever the fuck it is. I have previously reached out to X person on X dates and (summary of whatever they did or didnt do). See below/attached emails/pdf/screenshot/document (if applicable)

(explanation of the problem in as simple and detailed terms as possible. have someone re read it to make sure that it cannot be misconstrued)

(explanation of what you are looking for as a solution)

Please help me to understand why this (solution) has not been able to be reached. (explain you are on x timeline if the situation is urgent)

Kind regards/Thank you for any help in advance/I look forward to hearing from you etc,

email signature

go forth and conquer your emails. remember, sometimes you have to be a squeaky wheel. and in my million cases of email sending, it has ALWAYS paid off and i have gotten the problems solved. dont be afraid of the emails they can help you.

[dreamsteddie]

Steve and Eddie who kind of flop in life and end up poor, living in a trailer in a different small town living quiet lives of no import.

The kids, Robin, Nancy, and Johnathan all seem to take the small handful of opportunities offered to them by the government in the aftermath of the Upsidedown to take off and make something of their lives. They're off writing headlines, making news, and living their lives to the best of their abilities, but Steve and Eddie find themselves stuck.

Steve stayed in Hawkins until the kids graduated and left for college. By then Nancy, Johnathan, and Robin are all in their second or third years of college. John and Nancy have their own apartment in New York together and don't reach out all that often, only seeing the rest of the Hawkins crew on Holidays and some vacations. Robin is flourishing at an all-women's college in Maine and has a partner and a cat and plans for graduate school brewing. She's always saying Steve can come out and join her whenever he's ready, but when the time comes it feels like he would just be trying to insert himself in the middle of a life he doesn't know how to fit into, so he turns to Eddie instead.

Eddie is permanently disabled in a number of ways following the events of season four. He struggles with chronic pain, has breathing issues due to the loss of part of his right lung, and lost enough muscle mass in his left leg that walking will never be easy or done without the use of a walker or arm bar crutches. The doctors said he recovered as well as he could have. The kids said he would get better with time. Wayne said it didn't matter if he never got better, he could do anything he set his mind to.

Steve is the only person who tells him the truth.

Steve tells him that it sucks. Tells him that it will probably always hurt. Doesn't give him false hope when he's trying to grieve the loss of the life he wanted to live. The goals he wanted to reach. When he falls deeper and deeper into himself, stuck in the muck of depression, Steve is the only person he lets in. The kids try their best but their lives are moving fast, and taking care of someone like Eddie is exhausting, no matter what they try to say. Eventually, everyone but Dustin gives up on reaching out, the younger boy showing up every Sunday to try and get Eddie out of the house. He always leaves disappointed.

When Steve asks him if he wants to use what's left of their partly government payouts and Steve's equally meager Family Video savings to buy a truly shitty trailer in a town an hour and a half south of Hawkins in the fall of 1990, it feels like the first boon he's been given in almost five years. He'll never be who he could have been if he had ignored Chrissy that day in 86', but he's always thought maybe he could be more than a ghost between Wayne's walls if he could just get out of this god-forsaken town full of people who know too much and too little of what's happened to him.

They get the trailer, pack what little they have, let Wayne hug them close, and leave.

Steve has already transferred to their new town's Family Video, moving up to claim the dubious honor of being the opening manager. Mostly he just unlocks the door, signs into the computer, and makes sure nothing catches fire. Eddie hoped that moving would miraculously make him fit to enter back into the world, but he spends most of his days with a blanket on the front porch, watching people pass by. He does, though, finally accept that he needs to apply for disability to help Steve keep the lights on and the water hot. That last little bit of hope that he could be what he used to be dies, but he's learning to be content with what he does have. He starts taking a walk, just ten minutes around the loop of the trailer park saying hi and trading polite nods with his fellow residents. He's not ok, but he's starting to build a new community of people not too different from himself.

The new trailer only has one bedroom. Eddie sleeps on a fold-out mattress in the living room. It had been a major argument when they first moved in with Steve insisting that Eddie needed the bed. Eddie argued that it wasn't fair for him to take the room when Steve was the one working 40 hours a week to keep them afloat. In the end, Eddie was the more stubborn of the two. It helps that Eddie has absolutely no qualms about crawling into bed with Steve on the nights when the couch bed really won't cut it for his aching body. Steve never questions it, just shuffles over a little and lets the other man in.

Steve doesn't question a lot of stuff.

He doesn't question when all their effects are shared between them with no effort to distinguish between yours and mine, Eddie's and Steve's. He doesn't question it four months in when Eddie starts to get his feet under him and decides to take up cooking, always trying his best to have everything done just as Steve walks through the door. He doesn't question when a good chunk of Eddie's first disability check goes to buying Steve a sturdy, if not very fashionable, new watch for his birthday since his old one went bust almost a year ago.

He doesn't question it when Eddie holds his hand for the first time under the stars hanging above their front porch.

He doesn't question it when Eddie introduces him to one of his new neighbor friends with a hand resting comfortably on his lower back

He doesn't question it when Eddie starts sleeping in the bedroom every night.

Or makes him box mix cupcakes for Valentine's Day.

Or kisses him for the first time on the couch that's never a bed unless they want to spend the day binge-watching bargain bin films.

Because really, isn't this how it was always going to go? Wasn't this exactly what Steve was asking when he asked Eddie to skip town with him?

Isn't this what Eddie was hoping for when he said yes?

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 || 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ when you declined to play Ddakji with a man, the least you expected was him stalking you, even less expected when you oblige him to lick your bleeding wound after seeing him kill a man and escaping him.

warnings_ MDNI, age gap (not specified but legal) reader is a foreigner (implied American but not specified again), stalking, blood play, dom!salesman, switch!reader, toxic till the end, sexual innuendos, manipulation, questionable morals, do not romanticize this irl pls, NO PROOFREAD YET

notes_ I’ll just drop this fic and leave it there bc why am i feeling so horny for an Asian sociopath? me la estoy pasando bien raro (i like it)

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 this man

✰ Index (+ fics here)

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Everything was irritating. The class you had was canceled last minute, the crowd at the train station was loud, the tapping of a kid in a window was constant, and the message you received asking for your campus ID to keep using your student account was sudden and required immediate action. Your cramps and migraine only aggravate everything.

You were steps away from the stairs when you stopped to take the damn picture of your ID and be done with that. But of course, you couldn’t find your wallet at first glance, so you moved aside to take a better look.

You worried about kneeling and ruining your black coat with the dirtiness of the floor at the station, but at the same time, you thought it was just stupid.

A trail of curses flooded your mind as you tried to find your wallet, making you oblivious to a random man walking in your direction.

“Excuse me, Miss… Would you like to play Ddakji?” Said the man asked you in Korean. You were occupied with a hand inside your thrifted designer tote, and your mind unconsciously prepared an answer in English.

“Sorry, I don’t have time” When you realized your mid-answer you sighed, just as you fished out your wallet. “For every win of yours, you’ll earn a great sum of cash”

Once you stood up, you met the face of the man who now answered in English as well. Very tall, handsome, innocent smile and in a suit; a businessman. You knew it was wrong to judge but there was something behind the smile he offered you that resulted eerie.

Like behind that seemingly blameless expression, the man was hiding his true intentions.

Might’ve been your eyes or hair that caught his attention. You weren’t native, and he didn’t want to think he could take advantage, yet his feet dragged him to you.

Placing your bag over your shoulder again, you grab your glasses and phone with tangled EarPods. You give the man one last look. You are not having a good day and you don’t have time to deal with this.

“What do you say?” He asks feigning kindness, eyeing you subtly without your knowledge.

“No, thank you. I don’t even know how the game works”

“You look like you are a natural. You might be surprised if you try. You just have to pick a color and try to flip the opposing tile”

The rich always trying to fuck the one who isn’t. This was just a new way. The urge to roll your eyes grew but you remained still.

“Look, I’m sorry. But I bet you do this just to see how desperate people who need money can go. I won’t be one of them. If not, sorry for misjudging you” you harshly say before putting on your EarPods and leaving the station. You leave him perplexed, huffing in disbelief and igniting a fire of curiosity inside him.

And you completely forgot about the Ddakji man as you made it to your little apartment, not knowing he would turn upside down your upcoming days.

…

Warm days in winter were exciting for you. They boosted your energy and made you want to be out all day.

You had the luck of living in a beautiful complex because it was once from a friend of your mother who married years ago and now had her single apartment for rent.

It had long warm hallways that hosted at least eight apartments by floor. With orange and pink subtle lights and uneven edges. It was truly a sight despite how little the apartments were. One bedroom with closet and bathroom, a tiny studio, small kitchen, enough space for a dining table, another small bathroom, and a half sized living room with balcony.

Your loneliness was well-balanced because you loved your home. But even on warm days, you wanted to be out.

Your red shoes contrasted with everything you stepped on. You carried a bag with a bunch of books and another one with thrifted clothes you bought.

At the park you always walked by, there was a fair amount of people as usual. You don’t care much to look around but someone makes you stare longer than needed.

The same man who asked if you wanted to play a game at the station was in the park. Another impeccable suit dressing him, looking attractive like the first time and already looking at you.

He offered you a smile, to which you didn’t reply. You looked at the ground, feeling like you had frozen.

What a weirdo, he offered bread and a random paper to a lonely man.

Simultaneously, you wondered if the man found you attractive enough to stare like that. With your mind that often became nihilistic, you thought you were delusional and that you should just keep walking.

His eyes remained glued to you. As his prey was thinking about what was better to choose, he contemplated you walking again.

The salesman realized he had made you nervous and that made him feel eager to end his job and follow you again.

Once he realized you lived in a good neighborhood, where his elegant suits matched the vibe, he got even more excited to see you again.

So now, was like it was meant to be.

How sweet, sophisticated, and innocent you looked.

Something shifted, as you passed by his side, only having a view of his back, you assumed he was worked out, his hair looked perfectly fine, and his big hands offered two things. Perhaps you had misjudged him and he really wanted to help. But your inner voice said otherwise. In a sudden change of events, you decided to look back once you were almost at the exit of the park.

With his deep gaze still set on you, your lips formed a smile.

And he took it as a first win in the games that had begun between you two.

…

Once again, you find yourself in the library. Inside one of the biggest malls you’ve been to, you are leaning at a counter, asking if they have an English translation of a book you were interested in.

Your Korean isn’t good enough yet, so as the nice librarian disappeared to find your request, you are working on your next reply, with a translation app.

“Do you recommend me this one?” your back arched as a startled reflex. You quickly stand straight and turn around to see the person you grew anxious to avoid and see again. The salesman is there, looking down at you with a perfectly orchestrated smile.

“Huh?” you ask disconcertingly, he shows you a book, his face looking like he had found a wounded little bird. But it was only you, startled and nervous by his strong presence.

The book is The Divine Comedy. Dante Alighieri.

“Certainly is a good one. A lot of heavenly justice…” you say trying to sound confident, looking at the cover of the book. Displaying the layers that separated heaven from hell. “Do you believe in heavenly justice?”

“I don’t know. We can’t call someone a sinner without a proper trial beforehand” he chuckles, which makes you frown for a second. He truly was unpredictable and you didn’t like that. “Ah, sinners. Always misjudged and harshly punished for being the ones who have the guts to make things…” his deep voice and tone made you wonder if he was self-perceived as a sinner, which made you feel worse.

“You sound like an ethnocentric…”

“I don’t think I’m far into that type of thinking, y/n” Your eyes almost popped out, leaving your hands in an anxious tremble.

“How is it possible that you know my name?” Before he can even answer, you add more. “You are stalking me”

His demonic smile makes your heart stop. The smile you once thought had innocence can’t blind you anymore. He isn’t innocent. He literally confirmed he was stalking you and you didn’t know how to feel.

“I don’t like the idea that conveys the word ‘stalking’. We can call it predestination…” you huff in disbelief. “What do you want with me?”

“I would like to get to know the woman who rejected my Ddakji offer. And ask for one more game” Your lips form a line, and quietly you are hating how much you are enjoying the conversation.

“Hmm, I’m bad at most games, so I’m afraid I will reject you once again” You turned back again to see if the librarian was coming when you felt him stepping closer, which made you feel nervous again.

“I might believe you. I always win…” he whispered in your ear, sending shivers through your spine and creating a lot of tension.

Your psycho mode almost made you lean forward again, daring to see if some friction was possible. But you didn’t, trying to be prudent and acting sane.

“I would’ve wanted a normal first interaction and this time you should’ve asked me out on a date. That’s how it works where I come from but… here, I guess not” he stepped aside as the librarian handed you the book. And as you thanked her and turned to leave and pay somewhere else, he took out a card and handed it to you.

“I’m sure we can work on some sort of arrangement. Here, you may call me…” slightly irritated that he didn’t say much about your inquiry, you snatched the card and walked away.

The cathartic feelings of wanting to keep talking to him and running away from him at the same time resulted in excruciating. It didn’t make sense, the point of him was to nowhere. Being clueless about his age, name, and everything made it feel wrong. Yet, curiosity was starting to burn you.

…

Like a miracle, the heavens moved and sprinkled some luck above you. You found some friends on campus, they spoke English like you and were foreigners as well. One of them was a friend of the owner of a club and invited you for the night.

The invitation made you forgetful about your salesman, whom you hadn’t talked with since the encounter in the library. The card he handed the last time rested between the book you bought the same day, making you unable to read more because it reminded you of the encounter with him.

It resulted unknown to you when was that your life had turned over the edge of becoming twisted. Your feelings for a mysterious man who seemed more accusable than appeared remained undecided.

He made you feel like a wildfire and a caged bird at the same time. Delicate but menacing.

He seemed older than you, professional in a field, mature and imposing. Which you didn’t mind when he appeared to ask you about The Divine Comedy. Either way, you were playing but couldn’t risk anything. Especially in a country where you didn’t know how everything worked.

After getting out of the shower, your thoughts on the salesman are completely faded. You slip on a sequin dress and paint your eyes with glitter and a smokey style.

Thereafter, at the club you let yourself go and have a wild night. Between classes, essays, and the issue with the salesman, you needed a time out.

Everything feels nice when you take a bathroom break and you smile at your reflection. You know you are close to being drunk, it’s the most enjoyable stage of ingesting alcohol.

“Hey, let’s go dancing, I couldn’t find you before!” Yells one of your friends after you reunite with the little group. You nod excitedly, taking her hand and letting her take you to the dance floor.

The music reminded you of that time when spinnin records were a trend and everyone played their mixes at parties back at home. As you move along the track, you don’t look at anything in particular, you just feel interesting and sexy. But your eyes end up giving a quick glance at one table, almost making you stop your euphoric moment.

You swore you saw your salesman.

Looking around you don’t see him, so you return dancing but the odd sensation in your chest doesn’t let you rest.

“What happens?” Asks another friend, looking worried.

“Nothing. Just thought I saw someone. Never mind…” you shake your head, smiling and convincing them that everything is fine.

But once they got more drunk, you walked out, despite curiosity, you wanted to confirm if the tall gorgeous man was near you.

Rarely you bring up to question your life decisions. Not because you thought you were perfect, but because you easily accepted your errors.

And it wasn’t hard to accept you completely messed up by getting out of the club. Where the night was colder, and some steps away from the main entrance, the crowd was loud. A man could be heard pleading and sobbing, which made you fearful but eager to see what was happening.

You peeked at the alley beside the club. A wave of shock flooded you once you noticed another man was punching the one who yelped and sobbed for forgiveness.

Your salesman was the attacker.

“Please! I’ll pay everything back!” Your mind raced back to the moment you spotted your salesman inside the club minutes ago.

His dark grey suit didn’t fit the aura of the place, but he seemed to be talking with the same man he was now punching.

It was obvious at that point that he wasn’t a good man. He made fun of making people play his seemingly innocent games to later laugh in the face whenever they lost. He was never flirting with you, the odd feeling of uncertainty you felt with him was right.

You had to go. You had to burn the card he gave you, avoid the station where you met him, and forget about his face.

There’s panic in your system, your heart beats fast and nausea starts coming up your throat.

You want to get immediately drunk and forget everything you saw with a hangover. You need it.

But you don’t get very far. Midway through the stairs that conduct to the club, a hand holds your forearm with extreme pressure and drags you inside a private room.

Your salesman finally found you.

…

“You just killed a man!” you almost yelled as soon as he pushed you inside and closed the door.

The room was very fancy like the club. It had a big desk near a window, flower-shaped hanging lamps, black sparkly floor tiles, and a sage velvet couch.

Your salesman slides his fingers through his hair and looks at the ceiling before turning to you. One hand still carrying the murder weapon.

“He deserved it” was all he answered and you take a breath. In need of an alibi, you opened a random fridge in the room and grabbed a beer. Your salesman watched how you sipped at the can. He knew you were feeling a mix of curiosity and disgust for him.

Once you drink at least half of the content, you sigh, brushing aside some hair and walking towards him.

“Who are you?” you ask pleadingly, desperate to know how far you’ve gone for him.

“Eventually you’ll know” he sounds cold, calculating, and menacing. “You didn’t call…”

He was taking advantage of your vulnerability.

“I met you a week ago, I don’t even know your name” you admit with shame and dissatisfaction.

For the first time, he genuinely touches you. Hands straight to your waist, making gasp in surprise.

“You’re smart and will eventually understand. You’re my good girl”

His good girl….

What was left to do when you have a sociopath holding your waist with the same hands he had used to kill a man? Play along, even if you are terrified.

What had been your horrified face, slowly ends up in a smirk, tilting your head, squandering cheekiness. “I’m not your good girl, sir”

He slowly leaned back, taking a seat on the sage couch, one of his hands going straight to rest behind his head, against the wall. He twirled the knife against his knee, making you uneasy, but confident about your upcoming words.

“If I walk away, you can’t do much with me, I’m a foreigner. Sure the authorities would dismantle whatever dirty job you’re into and that’s a big no-no” you explain, and feeling a little too bold, you step between his legs.

“Your lack of ignorance amazes me” he admits, offering you a cocky smile. “It makes me even more infatuated”

Your left knee pushed aside his hand twirling the knife. He remained still but sure seemed slightly surprised when you ended up straddling him. With your hands glued to his dark tie, putting it into place.

“Hmm, well, be careful. I am no threat, I barely have valuable skills to get rid of you but I know I could be a problem. So I guess I won, sir…” you allow yourself to smile, following a path with your fingers, from his tie to his cheeks and nose, softly tracing his pale skin.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart” You knew he was trying to be in control, and the best part was that you weren’t fighting for it.

“There’s a lot I might not understand. I’m just a girl who happened to be in this city for a temporary academic project” When your lips brushed his, you couldn’t deny he was so fucking hot, you wished he wasn’t so weird and probably part of a mafia or cult or whatever. “You are the grown-ass man who got obsessed with me”

“I just find you an odd but interesting player, sweet girl” he tried to use his innocent smile but it was useless when you grabbed him by the shoulders and finally dared to kiss him.

He controlled it the moment he touched you again. His hands had a possessive sting and firmly grabbed you by the hips. One of them still holding the knife.

Feeling bold, with adrenaline flowing freely, you softly bit his lower lip. You knew it was over when he almost let out a moan, and after checking he had his eyes closed, you literally jumped away from him.

Without looking back, you started running. Your clumsy steps turn frantic, knowing damn well he would start following you soon. As you literally start pushing people to get out, your heart beats faster than ever and you have a growing anxiety, begging you to stop and breathe.

Once the cold air hit you, as you took a cab and saw no sign of your salesman, confusion struck you and you saw the blood in your chest and arm.

“Are you alright, girl?” The driver asked, also watching your bleeding state.

“Yes, just an accident, I’m okay” he nods unsure, but starts driving after you give him your destination.

His knife must’ve sliced your skin when you stood up from his lap. When he moved one of his big hands to caress your chin.

It wasn’t that you were scared of him, of your salesman. Although you should be; but you weren’t. Could it be that the worst part was that you were attracted to him? Even after watching him kill a man? You were screwed.

You realize the reason why you always ran away from him is because you don’t know how to face his unpredictable demeanor.

At that point, you didn’t know what he wanted. Only that he was obsessed with you. But his intentions remained a mystery unsolved.

Before getting out of the cab, you pay and send your friends a message that you left early because you got a headache after vomiting. This didn’t happen, but would’ve been better to experience it as a young woman in her twenties.

…

When you opened the door, he was already inside. The worst part is that you weren’t surprised anymore. You only stood at the feet of the door, looking at him with uneasiness.

“You got me worried,” he says, stopping his movements around your table. “You left some blood stains and I thought it was serious”

“You accidentally showed me your true nature. A little bit of blood shouldn’t scare you” his shirt indeed had some bloody spots, his blazer was gone, and the sleeves of his messy shirt were rolled up. You hated that your first thought was that he looked very hot.

He moved and took a seat at one of your tables. He sighed and you realized that perhaps he was also screwed up. For letting himself go too far for you.

“I don’t regret any encounter we’ve had,” he says. “Me neither”

He can’t stop staring at your bloodstained dress and you notice.

Fuck everything, you thought.

I’m attracted to him, he’s attracted to me, What’s the worst thing that could happen? (I don’t want to know).

“Silly boy, look what you did to me,” you say looking at the soaked fabric.

Something possessed you at that moment. Your hands went straight to lift your dress. His eyes trailed your sparkly underwear, your lower belly, and your ribs that rose and fell as you breathed.

Your hands twirl behind your back to unhook your bra; also soaked, throwing it to the floor.

Your salesman is quiet, his innocent smile about to fall because you know you have taken him by surprise.

Likely you’ll get a scar. The would-be slightly deep, an uneven line that passed from your neck to your shoulder.

You step forward, confidently eyeing him.

“Clean it” he tried to stand up, probably to grab a med kit but you stopped him with your heel. “With your mouth. Lick it clean…”

He gulped.

His manspread became the only thing you could care about. How he eyed you with lust and possession for some seconds, and then to lean forwards.

Once again his hands landed on the curves of your hips and he made you step up, leaving him inches away from you.

Your sudden surgation grew and his hot tongue finally made contact with your skin.

You savored the feeling of his tongue, knowing he wouldn’t clean anything but the semi-dry blood over your breast. He was only making a mess.

Then, he lifts his head and catches your lips in a sullied kiss. The way he held you, made you understand how he always wanted control. Above anything.

“I will be gone within time. You can ruin me while it lasts…” you blurt out, panting for air.

“I’ll ruin you. But I don’t want to rip you apart. That’s pointless…” he admits in your lips, blood near your chin that he wipes out. “You’re the most fun I’ve had in years. My little toy…”

“Alright, I’ll be your toy” he nods, kissing you again. “Know that my lips are sealed when it comes to you”

“And you won’t have to worry about anything again…” you moan on his lips when he pulls your hair and finally makes you lay on your once new carpet, now displaying some splotches of blood.

“I don’t need your money”

“Don’t you want to make your mother proud and relieved from student debts? From rent?” You can’t think straight. “It’s not correct…”

“None of this is, y/n. Now shut your mouth and spread your legs, toy”

It’s wrong, immoral, a complete madness. You know everything will change once the night dies and the morning comes. But as much as you tried to communicate to him that you weren’t scared, you knew it was over, you’ve gotten too deep into his shit.

“Farewell to my purity” you whisper in his ear and it’s enough to make his eyes turn darker, full of lust.

Everything that consoles purity would be gone from you. And the fact that you were ready scared you. But once his hands started meeting places across your body, you welcomed the sin.

As well as your mind seized thinking. Not caring about the consequences.

_______________________________________________

If you ask for more I will provide

Quién me manda a escribir estas mamadas? I’m just ovulating.

[missdynamighttt]

fantasizing about bf! katsuki paying for his pretty little girlfriend's nails because he wants to spoil you rotten.

at first, you were reluctant to book an appointment because you didn't have the time or the money. however, your pro hero boyfriend was wealthy, insistent, and super fucking stubborn.

“woman, if it’s something you want, i’ll pay for it," katsuki says softly, enjoying the feeling of resting his chin on the top of your head.

you were currently cuddling on your shared bed in the apartment, one of those slow days where you both had nothing to do but relax in each others arms. "i can drive you there if its a problem. no big deal.”

"katsuki, i can't ask you to do that," you say, looking up at him. "its too much. i'll just buy press ons or something—"

katsuki’s face scrunches up in the disgust at the idea of you using those press ons. back when you just moved in a few months into the relationship, those damn press ons were always everywhere around the apartment.

and sometimes, it'd get awkward when you're digging your nails into his flesh, moaning softly around him as he thrusts into you but then you make him stop half-way because your nail fell from the bed.

it got to the point where he found one of them under the drawer where you kept your... toys, and he knew they had to go. it took you some convincing, so he wasn't about let his hard work die in vain now.

"fuck no. i ain’t letting you walk around wearin' that cheap ass shit again," he scowled at you. "and the hell you can’t ask me. you're not askin', i'm offerin.”

"i dunno, katsuki..." you bit your bottom lip, reluctant to accept. it was nice that your boyfriend wanted to treat you but you couldn't help but feel guilty. "i don't wanna bother you. i don't need it that much 'nyway. and you could just spend your money on.. well, other things."

"the only thing botherin' me is you being difficult," he pouts at you, leaning down to give your lips a soft peck. "so, sweets, shut up. just let me take care of you, alright?"

and you were grateful you let him take care of you as you admired your freshly done nails a few days later, the glossy finish catching the light perfectly. you couldn’t stop smiling, especially when you remembered telling your nail tech about katsuki and she told you: "girl, hes so doing this because hes gonna propose. please say yes, for the love of god!"

of course, you wanted to express your gratitude for him. and what better way to thank him by wrapping your hands around his cock, fingers lingering on his length, showing off your new nails to him?

"fuck," katsuki hisses, breath shallow as he looks down at you. "god, baby, you look so pretty like this..."

you were on your knees, only wearing his shirt and your panties as a hand jerks off his length. the other holds his hand, fingers intertwined as you mouthed at his cock. you licked on the throbbing, pink tip, sucking the precum out of him with a blissed out expression.

you almost looked like you were in a trance. and seeing you there, looking all pretty and disheveled like a succubus, never failed to make his cock hard.

"yeah?" you look up at him with smiling eyes, pulling away from his cock with a soft, wet pop, rubbing a thumb on his aching tip before flicking your tongue at it again.

katsuki can’t hold back the soft moan that leaves his lips, his head lolling back as he tries to keep his breathing under control. he groans, his hips bucking against your touch.“fuckin' hell, woman, yeah.. so pretty.. just like that..."

katsuki's hand tightens around yours, looking at your newly manicured nails. he lifts your hand up, admiring them. the glossy finish really does look so pretty on you.

“fuck. they look so beautiful,” he murmurs, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "look so beautiful wrapped around my cock..."

"thank you, baby.." you flush a little, your tongue swirling around his tip. "..really appreciate it, i do. hope this serves as a nice thank you.."

katsuki’s face is tinged with a faint blush, his expression softening at your words.

“no need to thank me, sweets. your happiness is all the thanks i need. but this— shit,” he lets out a low moan when you suck on his tip again. "this is always.. a nice surprise..”

"surprise?" you smile. "you didn't think i'd do this to you..." you lap up his tip in between words. "after being so nice to me?"

katsuki lets out a quiet laugh, “you wanted to make me feel good, sweets? yeah? that why you’re on your knees for me?”

he gives you a playful grin, watching as your hand continues to move over his cock. his free hand tucks a strand on hair in between your ears, cupping your cheek. “always my good girl..”

you flush with embarrassment, thighs clenching from his words. "shut up.. bet if i bought you something you like, you'd go down on me too..."

katsuki can’t help but bark out a laugh at your comment, the image of you buying him a gift and him then going down on you was an appealing thought. but. he grabs your chin and tilts it up, forcing you to look at him and slowing down the pace.

“oh, baby. i’d make you feel so good. i'd eat you out like you were my last meal."

he gestures for you to open your mouth, his thumb tugging down your chin. and when you do, he suddenly spits on your tongue. you felt strangely vulnerable, swallowing it as his thumb rubs your swollen lips.

"but no way you’re buying me shit. that’s my job. to spoil you," his eyes darken at the sight of you sucking on his thumb, roaming over the concave of your mouth.

embarassment rose to your cheeks as you looked up at him, feeling flustered. "but... i wanna spoil you too."

he lets out a low hiss, feeling the vibrations of your hum around his thumb. he pulls his thumb out, his hand coming down to grab your chin, leaning down to face you.

"don't even think about it, sweets. i'm not asking," he tilts his head at you with a pout. "if you so much as buy me a pack of gum, i’m going to take you on a trip to bali."

your eyes widened in surprise, not sure how to, and voice your concern. a trip to bali would be great, but you just wanted to give him something too. "isn't that... uhm, isn't that a bit much?"

"don't give a shit. just let me have this one, alright?" he sighs, looking down at you.

"i want to take care of you," katsuki stroked your cheek with his thumb, a small smile creeping onto his face. "i like seeing that smile on your face when i do. makes me happy."

you felt your heart almost burst, looking at him with what feels like so much affection. he was just showing you so much love, how could you not melt?

katsuki knew he was getting soft, clicking his tongue at you. he scoffs, rolls his eyes and squeezes your cheek. "your nails looks cute anyway. got that?"

you bit your lip. whats the worse he could do when you bought him something anyway? after a moment of contemplation, you nodded, katsuki's grin spreading across his lips.

"good. now, get up here and gimme a kiss."

you nodded again, your heart racing as you stood up and perched yourself on his lap, breath hitching when you feel his cock press against your damp panties before pulling him in for a gentle, but passionate kiss.

katsuki groans into the kiss as you straddle his lap, his hands immediately finding your hips and pressing you down against his bulge. you can feel how hard he is beneath you, whimpering as he deepens the kiss.

“such a pretty thing,” katsuki murmurs, feeling how wet you are against him, looking down at the heat of your arousals. “gettin' me this hard and still having this on…”

katsuki's finger tugs on your panties as he kisses you in between words. he fists his cock, and hits the fat tip against your panties, hissing softly from underneath you. "you're so fuckin' wet, sweets, and i've barely even touched you..."

"katsuki..." you whimper, whining as you feel the head of his cock against you, almost kissing your clit through your panties. "please... can't handle it anymore... please, j-just—"

katsuki lets out a soft growl, leaning into your shoulder to bite on the curve of the skin. you squeal when you feel his lips and teeth graze your shoulder, sinking into your flesh, just wanting more of him, whining his name.

"please what, baby?" he murmurs, kissing the skin he's bruised on you. "be a good girl and use your words."

"wanna.. say thank you," you gasp, slowly grinding yourself on him. "please... please, fuck me.. katsuki.."

katsuki grins against your skin. there she was. his needy little thing he loved so much, practically begging to be ruined.

you’re suddenly on your back, the couch cushion soft against your back.

“atta girl.. now we’re getting somewhere,” his hands are already on your shirt, roughly yanking it up. “you gonna be a good girl and do what i tell you?”

you nodded eagerly, breathless as you let him strip you. not like you wanted anything else anyway. you tug down hard on your panties, tossing them to the floor and leaving you naked, your soft skin hitting the cold air.

katsuki watches as you kick off your panties, clearly looking all too pleased. he shifts, his torso hovering above you and caging you in between the couch. one hand moves up to your chin, pinning you to the couch and forcing you to look at him.

“you’re gonna cum screaming my name, got it?”

you hold onto his back, nodding as you whine from underneath him, ready to take what he could give you.

and when your newly-manicured nails digged into his skin as he thrusts into you, hot red nail marks decorating his back, katsuki felt nothing but pure bliss.

[fictionalsweethearts]

THE COMMISSION PT. 3 | SEVIKA X READER | ARCANE

You can find part one here. Part two here.

Synopsis: You've been her personal mechanic for two years, but your growing reputation in the field has earned you dozens of clients and commissions. Sevika was looking for something fresh, durable and of good quality, and when it came to her sexual appetite, she only accepted the best. So she turned to you for a special commission.

Contains: arcane!sevika, feminine reader, lesbians, lots of dialogues, arcane universe, cannon sevika, mechanic!reader, wlw, slow burn baby 💋, several parts btw

Word count: 4,345

Note: English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistake in my writing. Enjoy!

After that episode, Sevika stopped your supply of Shimmer and threatened any dealers that she would rip out their tongues and eyes if they dared to sell you, so the following week you found yourself in enforced sobriety.

You were adding the finishing touches to the strap, Sevika wanted it to be comfortable and aesthetically pleasing, so that was what you did. The straps were made of fine leather, secured with adjustable snaps. However, it was the long, veiny phallus that was the star of the piece, provided with texture and a purple color, quite similar to Shimmer. On the back, there was a small compartment with the dose of Shimmer, interconnected with the rest of the piece and the wearer, making the strap a dynamic, vibrant piece and certainly better than any other made of plastic or silicone. This one was “alive” so to speak, and designed so that the thrusts would release small bursts of Shimmer into the wearer’s bloodstream, causing as much pleasure as the one receiving it. One of your best pieces, you put a lot of pride into it and it cost you two sleepless nights and delaying other orders to give this one your full attention.

You made your way through the crowd. For a couple of weeks now, The Last Drop has been more crowded, the good sales of shimmer and the economic bonanza it brought made people look for a place to dance, drink more and bet their money in games that Sevika usually won.

Sevika.

You saw her at the back of the club, just like a few weeks ago when you went to her to check her arm and receive the commission you now had ready and kept in a box. She was focused on her cards, a cigarette between her lips and a couple of opponents with pursed lips sitting before her.

"Am I bothering?" you asked once you approached.

"Silco isn't taking guests." she muttered, without taking her eyes off the cards.

"I'm not here to see Silco." you said with a smirk before Sevika realized it was you.

She looked you up and down, taking in your appearance. You looked… good. Rested, healthy, and more beautiful than ever. It was a striking difference from the last time she had seen you, and it made her feel more confident than ever about her decision to take away your Shimmer supply.

"Well, hello yourself." she said, raising a brow. "What do I owe the pleasure?"

"Merry early Christmas." you teased, placing the box on the table. "Commission done."

She smiled, taking one last glance at her cards before folding and placing them face down. Her opponents grumbled as they laid down their own and counted up their chips, which Sevika quickly started sliding towards her. She picked up the box, feeling the weight of it in her hands. "Finally. Took you long enough."

"Quality takes time." you smirked, leaning to take a sip of Sevika's glass. The woman lifted the lid to peek inside, knowing she had to take a better look of the product in private.

"Continue without me, boys." Sevika said, quitting the game in order to stand up and head to her office with you.

The other players grumbled in annoyance as Sevika stood up, but their protests died out as Sevika glowered at them.

"If I come back and see you've touched my chips, I'll make sure you lose a few fingers." Sevika warned, her voice dripping with malice.

They entered a dimly lit office, the smell of wood and tobacco welcoming you as soon as you set foot inside. There was a coffee table in the center, on it a bottle of whiskey and a couple of glasses, in front of it a vermilion sofa darkened by age and the ashes of hundreds of cigarettes. The office was undeniably Sevika's, she was a sober woman and the room showed it, however you always liked the small jar painted in gold and blue paint, which used to keep mint candies for the breath. The truth is that you tended to eat them yourself and force Sevika to buy more.

"How is Silas?" you asked as you entered, following Sevika. "Did his dick fall off?"

"No, but it's probably the only thing still functional about him." She replied, shutting the door behind her.

She walked over to the coffee table, dropping the box on it before turning her attention to the bottle of whiskey. She poured two glasses before passing one to you.

"Here." She said. "You look like you could use a drink."

"Indeed." you agreed, taking the glass between your fingers. "Booze seems an alternative, since someone put me on forced sobriety."

“Yeah, I’m not sorry about that.” She muttered, taking a sip of her drink. “You were out of control.”

She walked over to the sofa, taking a seat and gesturing for you to do the same. “Now, though,” she said, her voice a hint softer, “you do look better, I have to admit.”

"I look tired." you grumbled. "You know how hard is to work sober? I can't barely make the half of orders I used to finish in a day."

"You look gorgeous when you're tired." She observed, her voice low and full of innuendo. She took another sip from her drink, leaning back into the sofa. "And as for your orders, I don't care if you have to hire a damn army to finish them. You're not touching Shimmer again until I say so."

Sevika changed the subject so quickly that you couldn't comment on her casual compliment. Her eyes didn't betray the way she looked at you, nor the thoughts that had been running through her mind since she asked you for such a commission. She was sweet on you but her demeanor masked it well. "The workshop's rent is getting higher by the month." you said then. "I cannot afford working any less."

"I'll cover the rent," she offered, her voice gruff. "You just focus on your work."

The speed with which she resolved the issue struck you as comical, Sevika seemed convinced enough of the quality of your work to become your financier. You huffed. "Are you into charity now?"

"Charity? Hardly." She replied, her voice dry. "I prefer to think of it as an investment. You're an investment."

She paused to look at you, the way you traced the rim of the glass with your finger, your exposed shoulders, the softness of your neck, your cheekbones visibly more flushed with sobriety. She let out a sigh. "Besides, you owe me."

"Owe you?" you asked.

She couldn't contain a smirk. "For one," she started. "You're sitting in my office, drinking my booze, and you've still yet to even show me the commission I asked for. That's one reason."

She leaned forward, her gaze steady on you. "Two, you've been sleeping and eating in my club for weeks now. You think those things come free?"

Funny. Nothing's free when it comes to Sevika. She believed in the power of trades, of taking advantage of people’s qualities in an honest and effective way. You couldn’t deny that you’d turned to Sevika more times than you’d care to admit, whether it was to get another dose of Shimmer, sleep somewhere other than the workshop, and even sneak into her office and eat her snacks while she was minding her business at the brothel. Not to mention that she was now offering to pay your rent. You owed Sevika, whether you liked it or not. Your silence was your answer.

She leaned back into the sofa again, her expression smug. "That's what I thought." She muttered, taking another sip from her drink. "You're in my debt, dollface. And sooner or later, I'm going to collect."

She put the glass down, her eyes flickering to the box. "Now, are you gonna show me my commission?"

You sat up on the couch and nodded, Sevika's words not to be ignored. "Sure." you said, leaning over to carefully open the cherry-colored box you had brought for her. You lifted the lid and carefully placed the product on the table, unwrapping it.

Sevika couldn't help the way her eyebrow rose, her eyes studying the piece intently before a grin played on her dark lips. What a piece. "Damn." She muttered, her voice low with appreciation. Her hand hovered over the item, the tips of her fingers carefully tracing the leather straps, the velvety texture of the phallus.

"Is the color alright?"

Sevika took the strap, running her fingers over the texture and feel of its components, her eyes taking in the small Shimmer compartment in the back, the neatness of the finishes, even the light, comfortable weight. "Yeah. This is... better than I imagined." She admitted, her eyes flickering to you.

"Just make sure to not overdo it." you warned her, watching the woman testing the weight, the lightness of the piece and the exceptional quality of the materials. She seemed pleased, even though her face was inaccessible when it came to expressions. "It releases small doses of Shimmer, make sure to not wear it for too long."

"Oh, I'll definitely be testing the limits of this thing." She replied, her voice thick with innuendo. "I know when to stop."

"Just don't overdose." you mumbled, leaning back on the couch as Sevika stored the strap back into the box.

"I'm a big girl. I know how to handle myself." she insisted, taking a sip of the glass as her mind began going to places. The potential was massive.

You let out a sigh, you were sober and tired, the smell of the workshop clinging to your overalls and your hands still stained with oil and ink, which seemed to acquire the status of tattoos since they didn't seem to come off with any washing. You finished the glass, Sevika got up to search through her desk for the second half of your pay. She came back, holding out the the pouch. "Here." She said. "All yours."

You accepted the money willingly, thinking you would spend it on something stupid right away. You weren't good with finances, it's an understatement to say that if Sevika didn't manage your expenses regarding materials, machinery and labor, your business would go to hell overnight. She was always behind, watching over you and your lack of common sense when you had a bag full of coins. "I'll make sure to use them wisely."

"Oh, that's what you always say." She teased in return, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "And then what do you do instead? Gamble it all away at the fight pits, I suppose?" She knew better than to trust you with money. You'd always been as reliable as a leaky ship, especially when you were hopped up on Shimmer.

"I make good bets." you replied. "But the fighters are getting lame lately."

She crossed her arms across her chest, her expression mocking. "You always pick the ones who look good but have no chance of winning. You always bet on the long shots, and you always lose."

You laughed, because you did tend to bet on the best looking boxer rather than the most skilled. You were a simple girl, you liked to drink in the sweaty bodies of the fighters in the Pit, men or women, releasing adrenaline charges with every punch, spitting and gasping. You found pleasure in premeditated violence, in the cheers and the boos, in the heat of a crowd committed to the spectacle. And perhaps it was because of that bad habit of yours that you bet on Vi last week, and Sevika didn’t take it well.

She huffed, her voice terse. "You picked Vi because she was hot, didn't you?"

"I picked her cause you despise her."

"Damn right, I do." She muttered through gritted teeth. "And you should too. Do you have any idea how many of my thugs she's beat up? Or the crap she caused Silco when she was in Piltover? That woman's always been a pain in my ass."

"You have a thing for problematic women." you shrugged, leaning to pour yourself more whiskey. "The difference is that some you hate, others you keep close."

Sevika rolled her eyes, craving a cigarette to deal with your tongue and insolent smile. "Causes involve problems." she said.

"And you seem to love both." you said.

"Oh, great." She muttered. "Another smartass back talker in my life... Just what I needed."

"Who's the other?"

"Jinx."

Her sigh said it all, Sevika was tired and her patience threatened to falter. Silco was her leader, she championed the cause, Zaun, yet Jinx figured as the constant component ruining her formula. You can't be a good soldier with a leader who is unable to see the flaws of his daughter, or at least, how he sees Jinx. "Sounds like you need to get something off your chest." you said.

She huffed. "I could write an encyclopaedia about everything wrong with that girl." She paused for a moment, her expression hardening once again. "She's Silco's blind spot. He can't see her for what she really is because he's too damn soft on her. And it's getting to the point where we can't cover for her anymore."

"He loves her." you said. "We all act like fools when it comes to love."

"What a joke. He's blinded by his affection for her. He's been babying her for years, giving her everything she wants and then some. And look where it's gotten us? The entire damn city is on the brink of a war because of her, because Silco can't bring himself to step away from his goddamn daughter and see her for what she really is."

Hell, she was mad. You put the glass on the coffee table, watching Sevika retrieve a cigarette from the pack in her pocket. Before she noticed, you were before her, lighting up with your zippo. "Jinx is a part of the game, want it or not. And it's up to you if you wanna keep up with Silco's whims or give up."

Her grey eyes locked on yours, releasing the smoke to the side.

"I'm loyal to Silco. I always have been, and I always will be. I believe in his cause, in his vision for Zaun." She stated. There was not a single hint of doubt on her words; when Sevika commits with a cause, she carries it to the end, no matter what.

That's what you admired of her.

"Then..." you said, grinning. "You need to let off some steam." your eyes flickering to the box on the coffee table.

Sevika thought you were joking. "You suggest I should take a stroll to the brothel while you stay here alone, a room away from the Shimmer reserves Silco keeps here?"

"I'll behave." you insisted.

"You better." She warned. "I don't know how Silco would feel if he came back to his supplies all gone because you had a goddamn party in his absence."

You smiled. "If I wanted to get high, I'd do it with my own money and merit, trust me." you stepped back, walking over to the couch. "It's up to you, Sev. But if I were you, I would go and try my new toy right away."

Sevika rolled her eyes.

"Dammit," she growled. "I can't believe I'm seriously considering this..."

Seeing you settle down on the couch, half drunk from the whiskey, Sevika actually considered taking a stroll around the brothel. She needed to release a pressure that only increased every time you were in front of her, with your stupid jokes and your arms and chest exposed, with your playful eyes and your insolent smile. You were a limit she forced herself to not cross. The woman grunted, picking up the red cape from the coat rack and putting it on.

"Take a bath while I'm gone, you smell like a workshop." she muttered, taking the box from the table

"Excuse me?" you protested, your expression one of mock-offence. "I smell just fine."

Sevika huffed a laugh at your protest, her eyes flickering over your figure. She had to admit she kind of enjoyed the way you smelt. A subtle yet intense medley of oil, grease and sweat - it was almost seductive.

"Don't pretend like I don't know the last time you took a bath was three days ago." She shot back, her voice full of sarcasm. "You smell like you live at a damn workshop."

Now you were offended. "I do live in a damn workshop."

"Don't make it obvious, then." she said, walking over the door. "I ain't paying your rent for you to smell like that. Bath." she added, leaving the room as she didn't just called you dirty.

At the slam of the door, you couldn't help but bury your nose in your armpit, letting out a groan. "Bath, yeah right," you muttered, getting up to grab one of Sevika's treats. "Next time I'll put less oil on that arm of hers…"

Sevika left the office with heavy steps, riled up by your entire presence. She was playing a dangerous game but she didn't intend to lose, not when you had become her most precious jewel but also the hardest to obtain. She wanted to possess you, in more ways than one, but she knew your limits and your whims, getting involved with you would not only be risky but directly novice to her plans. Letting you slip into her her will would only destroy the mettle she took years to build. She had to control herself.

Several glances fell upon Sevika as she entered The House of Pleasure, she hadn't been seen around these parts for weeks, and more than one of the ladies-in-waiting approached her doors hoping to be chosen by her. She was a client who paid well and made love well, there were no cons on her visits. "With Robin." the woman murmured to the owner, before being led to the largest room in the brothel.

Robin was waiting for her on the couch, wrapped in an olive-colored robe, playing with her black locks and looking as willing as ever. Sevika liked her, she had freckles and fleshy curves, she knew how to combat her bad mood.

"Sevika," the woman purred, standing up. "Long time no see. I missed you around here"

"Missing my attention or my money?" she huffed.

"Money lost importance a long time ago." she smiled, standing on her tiptoes to place a kiss on her client’s cheek before carefully removing her cape, revealing her mechanic arm. Sevika liked to be welcomed with a cigarette and Robin’s sweet perfume, to sit on the couch, manspreading, inhaling the smoke with her on her lap, giving her kisses on her neck and jaw.

However, Sevika saw you standing by the curtain, like an insistent ghost, reminding her that the woman on top her was not you. "What's in the box?" asked Robin then, leaving a kiss on the corner of Sevika's lips, her eyes flckering to the box sitting on the coffee table.

"A new toy." She muttered, her voice gruff.

Robin smiled. "You'd like us to try it?" she asked.

Sevika stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray that rested to her right, cupping the back of Robin's neck to begin a kiss that she hoped would erase you from her mind for a while. "Yeah." she said, against her lips, her hand gripping firmly the hooker's butt.

Sevika knew she was being foolish, that she was using Robin as a replacement for you, but she couldn't bring herself to care. The woman's moans, the feel of her body in her lap, it was all so familiar yet so different. She broke the kiss, her breathing ragged as she looked up at Robin with darkened eyes. "Get the toy.

Robin was helpful and elegant, she knew how to deliver an erotic show on each visit and please Sevika. She had already become accustomed to the rhythm and endurance of her client, her firm hands, her obscene kisses and subtle and not so subtle bites. The hooker opened the box, her smile was not faked when she saw the quality of the piece.

"Robe off, doll." said Sevika, her legs spreading with a latent confidence. Robin approached, an arm around her waist as Sevika pulled her closer. "You'll keep up with me, don't you?"

"Always..." whispered Robin, as Sevika watched the woman undress before her, trying to ignore the picture of your smile on the back of her mind.

Third round, Sevika seemed to hate you more and more as she discovered that the piece you had made for her was sensational.

Each thrust released a small charge of Shimmer, taking Sevika on a roller coaster of sensations, a constant upward slope that did nothing but shake her nerve fibers from head to toe. She had Robin on her stomach on the bed, hips and ass up, one hand firmly in her hair, another on her hip, as she thrusted into her relentlesslty, growling against the back of her neck in an obscene and not at all concealable symphony; the entire brothel knew that Sevika was back.

She had you to thank for this, you and your damn ingenuity. She would never admit it aloud, but gods how she hated you for this. For making her feel something, for making her lose control.

She knew she wouldn't survive another round as she leaned down, her breath ragged and hot in Robin's ear. "I might have... to take you home sometime."

"I'll go anywhere, as long as you fuck me this good." Robin purred, her body melting as Sevika leaned down to place kisses and bites on her shoulder. Sevika refused to open her eyes, she wanted to imagine you beneath her, your smell, your moans, your legs shaking with pleasure and begging for more. She held the woman's neck between her fingers, pressing her hips hard as a tickling sensation settled in her lower belly. Fuck, this was so good.

She felt herself melting, her veins burning, her heart pounding. Robin could see the purple glow in her client's eyes, they had grown deeper throughout rounds, and certainly her strength too. "I want you... so bad." She breathed, her voice gruff and breathless as she began speaking out her thoughts. "But I can't... fucking have."

"Shit... I-'m... cumming." whined Robin, which Sevika straightened up and pulled Robin's back against her chest, choking her harder with every deep, nerve-shaking thrust.

"Shut up," Sevika snapped, her voice guttural and her eyes still tightly shut. She didn't want to hear anyone's name but yours, any voice but yours. She wanted you beneath her, begging and pleading for more.

Sevika growled, her forehead suddenly resting against Robin's back, a firm hand between her legs, rubbing her clit as her brain corrected her moans and made them yours.

Gosh, she almost could smell the goddamn oil and ink.

The Shimmer was beginning to take over her wits, her veins heating up, her breath coming out in loud gasps as a second orgasm began to take over her. And Robin wouldn't shut her mouth, goddamn it!

"Shut. The fuck. Up." Sevika growled, covering Robin's mouth with her flesh hand. The woman whined against her palm, panting at the same time Sevika moaned into her neck, enjoying an unprecedented orgasm. "Fuck...! Take it well and nicely." she whispered against Robin's ear.

Robin fell back onto the mattress, her body marked by dozens of bites, a hand on her buttock, a hickey on her neck. Sevika was the only client who could afford to mark her girls, and Robin accepted it willingly. But today she had gone too far.

Sevika let out a pant, sitting up in bed, dizzy and shaky, as if she had run across all of Zaun. Her flesh hand trembled, she was a round away from overdose, she knew it. She took the strap off and tossed it somewhere in the room before searching for a cigarette on the nightstand. Just the bitter taste of the smoke managed to calm her down and return her from that portal she refused to cross.

"Something's up with you." mumbled Robin, barely catching her breath as she reached out to wet her throat with a glass of water.

Sevika sat on the couch, her cinnamon skin lightly beaded with sweat. Her entire body was still alert, sensitive and active, from her erect nipples to the thickened veins on her arm. The Shimmer was not quick to digest. "Nothing's up." she mumbled.

Robin propped on her elbow, reading Sevika's expression. She knew that one, has seen it on other clients, but it was the first time she saw it on Sevika's face; the expression of frustrated passion. "There is someone, isn't there?"

Sevika dragged on the cigarette, her eyes darting around the room before landing on the strap. Damn you. "Yeah, there's someone."

Robin's eyes softened. "Who...?" she asked softly.

"It doesn't matter," she muttered quietly, avoiding eye contact. "She's...off-limits."

As Robin was about to ask for details, there was a knock at the door. The hooker put on her robe, taking heavy steps towards the door after having dealt with Sevika's stamina for two hours. Sevika let out a cloud of smoke, pulling her head back as she thought about you, and a bitter sensation pooled on her stomach.

I'm wasting my damn time.

When Sevika had already put on her boxers, Robin turned to look at her, her expression suggesting urgency. She frowned. "What is it?"

"It's a message from the Last Drop," Robin said. "A girl overdosed in your office."

Suddenly the Shimmer effect seemed to be heightened, but it was actually raw, pure adrenaline.

No.

Sevika jumped off the couch, looking for her clothes as Robin stood there. "Sev?" she asked worried.

"Get me my damn cape," she said. "I gotta go."

To be continued...

taglist: @lez-zuha @amoraeu @nikaachuuuu @furrytaesss @elliecoochieeater @n-noctiss @emmanetalias @sevikashairbrush @lipglosskxsses @chaosfieldflower @kairuvhen @moodient @izzy120 @bonemarrowstew @abbysunderwear @batman-2 @karmalovessimonriley @fandomsinthegalaxies @fudosl @femme-historian @poprostuhybryda-blog @kifuqe @xblinkx2 @tamikahoshiko @lia-winther @https-mika

[moonchildcovenxx]

Scissoring With Sevika

a/n: Guys i got possessed!! It’s the voices I swear! this is loosely based off of @justhereforsubsevika’s post so go check that out if u like mine :)!!

first time tribbing with sub/switch sevika??? you know what hell yeah!

Sevika prided herself in her poker face. It was an ability that came naturally, and the years of being Silco’s second in command had perfected this trait. It took a lot to break your stoic, brooding, girlfriend. That is until it didn’t.

Sevika had simply stopped moving above you. It was uncharacteristic of her to quiet so quickly. “Vika baby…” you trail off as you shift your hips to look at her. You always craved to feel her closer.

 Sevika’s warm muscular body against yours never failed to make you needy. She could hardly believe it herself when you suggested scissoring in place of her fucking you stupid with a strap. Sevika hated to admit when she was wrong, But it felt good. Better even. So good in fact that you both froze when a soft mewl fell from her parted lips.

“Shut up.” Sevika immediately rasped out as your intrigued yet teasing giggle filled your dimly lit bedroom.

“Didn’t know you could sound like that Sevika.” The atmosphere in the room has reached a drunken, hazy, stupor and your eyes darken as Sevika tucks her lower lip between her teeth, her thighs shuddering atop yours. “Don’t—Stop that.” Sevika attempts to chide, but she cuts herself off with a breathy gasp as your clits kiss oh so gently. It has her pretty grey eyes rolling back, it’s a small touch, but she can feel everything. “F-fuck.” Sevika pants, dropping onto her elbows to cage around you.

It’s taking all your energy to stay as quiet as possible to hear the absolutely devastating noises that are leaving your girl. 

Something in you blooms as you watch Sevika’s usually sharpened, stoic facade crumble. Her cheeks dust rosy as your eyes roam her figure not knowing what or where to settle on. Sevika’s already pussy drunk—completely stupefied. That much you can tell. The way her eyebrows furrow, arching upward is merely one sign. A permanent shiver racks her body at even your slightest change or quirk of your body. A beat passes where both of you are still, clearly waiting for someone to make a move. And then it clicks. What Sevika wants you to do. and all of a sudden you find your hand at her throat pulling her into a deep kiss. “Yeah like th-that ohgod.” 

Sevika leans closer finally letting your hands guide her hips where you want them. And where you want them is bucking down onto you. You need her clit against yours. You need to feel the way her cunt just drips as you coo praises up at her. “So pretty like this, huh?” Your words are slurred from the pleasure each time she grinds down onto your now sloppy pussy. Sevika shakes her head fervently trying to keep some semblance of dominance. Trying and failing to pretend she was unbothered by your vulgar words and even sultrier actions, but it wouldn’t work. As you leave biting marks on her collarbone, the resulting noise that you drag out of her is so throughly debauched you moan back her name in response.

“I’m going to stop if you don’t speak up.” You tsk up at her. Your words are nothing but lies. You need to cum just as much as Sevika does, but you’re in love with the indignant, pained expression that falls over her features, her restraint finally snapping when you threaten her. “No—ah-baby please it feels so—so good oh god oh my god!” Sevika all but wails into your chest, as you meanly hum in mock thought, you’re sure that the throbbing in your cunt gives you away. When was the last time you were this wet?

“Hmm. Should I let you cum Vika? you’ve been so….” you cut yourself off by squeezing her neck ever so slightly, and in result Sevika’s mouth drops open, this time staying there as you continue to toy with her. “so ‘bratty’…” You giggle, as Sevika shakes her head again. “I’m-fuck-‘m not a brat.” Sevika hitches out indignant. Her deep raspy lilt long gone, in its place a broken whimper. “Please I’m—Please I’ve been good I wanna-“ She cuts herself off as her eyes roll back for the nth time of the night. The pleasure coils painfully in your tummy, the tightly wound knot ever so close to snapping. 

“Then cum for me Sevika.” you manage breathily as your clit rubs against hers oh so addictively that your hips buck up to meet Sevika’s erratic thrusts. 

“Oh God-hahh—”

Sevika falls into you, head burying into your shoulder as she all but creams on your overly sensitive pussy. 

“Just like—ah- that I got you.” You purr comfortingly, managing to hook your leg around her thigh holding her still. The silence envelops the two of you comfortably as you breathe in an overwhelmed yet satisfied breath. The quiet continues and you think that Sevika has simply fallen asleep on top of you as you lean back into the ruffled up pillows. 

“I…wouldn’t mind doing that again.” Sevika raspy low lilt is amusedly back—like it had never left, and you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as you nod eagerly cuddling closer in her arms.

[mattybsgroupie]

fitting | chris sturniolo

— CONTENTS: handjob (m receiving); mommy kink; milf!reader; virgin!chris; sub!chris

— NOTES: hi my loves! sorry i’ve been a little m.i.a, some stuff happening at home and not really in my best mood BUT i’m here! you give me strenght to keep going and doing what i love. did you guys miss him as much as i did :( chris my beloved!!! inspired by this blurb, thought i’d show how shy chris was before their first time! — btw this fic is part of the milf!au but you can it on its own! — not proofread, i apologize for any mistakes. enjoy ♡

walking around the mall after a busy morning at work, you spotted a familiar figure across the alley. it was quite impossible not to recognize chris — his long hair falling over his big eyes, wearing his shabby jeans and his old converse as he typed frantically on his phone, oblivious to his surroundings.

you approached him slowly, standing in front of chris and expecting that he’d notice you soon. when he raised his head, a smile spread from ear to ear, his blue orbs sparkling. it had been over two weeks since you last saw each other due to stacy staying at her father's place, therefore, chris had no excuses to visit you.

“chris? what are you doing here?” you asked in your usual sweet tone. he scratched the back of his head, as if he was a bit embarrassed about the situation he found himself in. “huh... actually, i was supposed to meet stacy” chris admitted, tucking his cell phone back into his pocket and standing up beside you.

“but she won’t make it” he said. a puzzled frown appeared on your face. it’s true that you couldn’t always keep track of your daughter’s schedule when she wasn't at home, but she wasn’t the type to miss dates or hangouts. 

“cheer practice” he explained. you nodded, realizing that the game season was about to start. it felt so wonderful to see chris again. “well, would you like a ride home? i just have to look for something real quick and then i’m all done”

“sure, c-can i keep you company?” he asked, eager for a positive answer. “absolutely, sweetheart”

you led the way to the store you were going to visit. a lingerie shop. chris gulped when he saw the bright sign, the pink lights contrasting with the black interior and then sighed. he knew you missed him just as much.

“that’s not fair, mama” he mumbled after a while. chris had been following you like a puppy, interlocking his index with two of your fingers, as if he could lose his way at any second. 

“making me so needy” he complained again. you stopped by a red, lace lingerie set and happily brought it to your chest, turning to chris. “what do you think of this one, chris? pretty, right?”

“mhm— really pretty” chris shook his head as he sunk his teeth on his bottom lip. he looked away from you and the way the bra rested perfectly against your chest. “what’s up, baby? are you having a little trouble down there?”

“mama… don’t do this to me” chris whispered. his hands started to get sweaty and he could feel the blood rushing to his cock. he was about to get hard in public just because he thought of you in lingerie, which was ridiculous, since he had seem you naked previosusly.

“i’m not doing anything, sweetie. i’m shopping and you’re keeping me company, isn’t that right? is it my fault that you can’t hold yourself back and got all worked up just because i got some lingerie?” your warm tone sent a shiver down his spine, his chest immediatly inflating with air. “‘m s-sorry i just keep thinking… of you wearing it” chris tried to explain himself as you chuckled, enjoying his embarassement.

“yeah? you wanna see me wearing a nice set for you? which one do you like better?” you asked, handing him three pairs of bras and panties in different colors.

“the red one” chris spoke, still not daring to look at you in the ways. you walked in slow, seductive steps towards him, the sound of your heels taking over the empty store.

“c’mere,  i’ll try it on for you” you continued, undoing the first button of your silk shirt. chris got a peek of your bra, it was the leopard print that drove him insane and made him kiss you for the first time, months ago. “but first we gotta fix this, hm?” you cooed, placing your palm against his boner and applying some pressure to it.

once again, you led the way towards the fitting rooms. chris followed you obediently, holding a bunch of hangers. you gaze scanned the store and with a naughty grin, you opened one of the curtains and quickly went inside, pulling chris by his wrist.

he didn’t even had time to hang your underwear. you pushed him against the mirror, smashing your lips together in a desperate, hungry kiss. a loud groan left his throat as you moved to his neck, gently sucking on his skin. “mommy i missed you so much” chris rolled his eyes, his hands going to your hair.

“i missed you too, my good little boy” you whispered, palming his cock over his jeans. chris squirmed against you, a moan slipping from his lips. you opened a satisfied smile as you pulled away, sitting on the stool next to the mirror.

chris whined in protest, already missing how you hand and your lips felt on him. “got all hard for mama? you poor little thing” he pouted, nodding “c’mon, touch yourself for me” you instructed him.

his eyes widened in surprise — you had never asked him that. he didn’t know how to do jerk himself properly. chris was a virgin and the first time he was actually able to reach an orgasm was with your help. how was he supposed to do it on his own, and in public?

“mhm, unless you wanna go out with that pathetic boner” you teased, crossing your legs. the red heel started to slip from your foot as you finished unbuttoning your shirt, fully displaying your bra. chris whined again, silently pleading.

“mama… i n-need your help” chris spoke under his breath. “can’t cum without you”

“you’ll have to learn how to take care of yourself, chris” you said, pulling chris by his belt. you helped him to undress, freeing his shaft, almost slapping against his own tummy. you wrapped your knuckles around his length, stroking it in slow motions. “do you expect mama to be there every time you get hard? what are you gonna do when i’m not around, hm?”

“nhng— can’t— can’t be without mama” chris whimpered, more to himself than to you. he twitched inside your fist, placing both hands on the mirror to hold his weight, knowing his knees would ultimately give up.

you moved your thumb to his tip, pre-cum leaking from his slit as you circled it. his hips bucked forward as he leaned his head down, trying to hold himself. chris didn’t want to cum too soon, it was humiliating. he wanted to last long for you, he wanted to get used to the feeling your fingers around him, to the sound of your voice whispering praises and calling him a good boy, but no matter how hard chris tried, he pathetically failed.

“cum! mama, cum!” chris whimpered. you tightened your grip around his cock, pumping it faster. “please!”

“cum for me baby” you allowed him. you knew chris would need a long time to get used to your touch. in fact, it was adorable that he couldn’t even last five minutes.

chris threw his head back, moaning as he came on your hand, thick spurt messing your fingers and his jacket. you didn’t move your hand, continuing to gently stroke his wet, sticky cock.

that’s until your phone rang. you reached for your bag, quickly picking it up and seeing the name on the screen. “i think stacy is back home” you told chris, whose dick immediately became soft at the mention of your daughter’s name. “would you like to join us for dinner?”

— TAGLIST ♡⊹𑄽୧ @thepubeburgler @submattenthusiast @pearlzier @mattsfavbitchhh @bugeyedgrl @sturncakez @riowritesitall @mattsturnswife @sturnsmia @sturnthepot @mattscoquette @conspiracy-ash @ilovemattsturn @lizzymacdonald06 @blahbel668 @fratbrochrisgf @sturnobsessedwh0re @cayleeuhithinknott @sturniolo04 @1c3b4th @mattsfavbigtitties @bellassturniolo @sturnsxplr-25 @ivammbb @shadowthesim @slutformatthewsturniolo @stefansring @teeheeomg @dystfopia @riasturns @faiyaz555 @sturnslutz @cvnntagious @alesturniolos @emely9274

chris masterlist | milf au masterlist

[astralnymphh]

i wanna ride ellie’s little nose :((

hearing her soft whimpers as I fuck her nose up

note: alright, since this little post i made sparked up some conversation, i will tap some actual content out of it! mdni. college au. loser!ellie.

𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬: 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐞

ellie isn't so practiced to being in this position; her heart is fucking pounding. not a lithe beat, or a pitter-pattering across the flesh—you can feel it through your thighs curled around her arms. you can see it in her blown eyes, trembling, and thickened with those pupils staring up at you. the indents of her fingertips sharpening into your legs, tattooed wrist constricted—restless. she hates this little interlude you subject her to. you're fondling her fragile trigger when you're sat a mere inch above her pretty lips, wet and glistening; who could blame her for getting so riled up?

impatience drags her fingers over your ass. it gets gripped gently. “thought you weren't being serious,” she states through a laugh—a breathless one. “but, i should know better, right?” her laughs hit that damned sweet spot in you that gets you going.

you tug a couple more out with a tip-tap on that precious nose. “mhm.” and then, those fingers end their frolic in her hair, forming a firm grip. it tugs a different sound out of her. a captured whimper. she is starving, and cannot mouth an actual word to soothe or substantiate it. ellie—two steps ahead of her motions—is already thinking about her lips on your cunt.

you position your slit on her available tongue, and she moans like she met heaven. a long, loose-lipped moan of satisfaction. something of a curving, “mmhhh..” and a brow-pull to go along with it; your scent, taste, and pushing of her face into your grinding hips hit all the right wires. now, she cannot let go. you shift your hip one route, and she follows with hungered licks. groping her breasts, you encourage that wanton behaviour.

“good fuckin girl, el.”

she gives your ass a delicate slap in admission. subconscious admission.

all that movement creates a cathedral of pornographics sounds. ellie, whoring her face out for you, lets nothing go to waste past her chin. she bobs her head, attempting to steal more laps of you, but ends up with the head of her nose prodding your clit each time. it sends a coiling through your pelvis, agreements up your throat, “fuck—such a pretty little nose your parents gave you..” and gives you the idea to continue. “you like it when i fuck it, huh?” fucking the tip of it, until it folds up and pre-cum begins to line it. inside, outside. it's perfect position is a practical beg for you to spread your legs and sit on it. ride it like she doesn't know what she's doing (which—contrary to what bigots in her college circulate online—she knows how to fuckin' eat pussy; don't get her wrong.) she knows now—she won't be able to rid it from her mind for weeks; the poor girl has to dangle from memories considering how little she sees you. what, with astrophysics and all? it's pitiful enough watching her touch herself to it—touch herself to the feeling of eating you out.

you chew your resting lip and almost draw blood noticing: the bulge of a free hand in her jeans, gentle touching below the seam. then, on it comes. the repeated whining—moaning like she's the one getting fucked. all it takes is for you to tilt her head, tug her eyes out from under you—and it blows out. the sight of her red, fucked-out, rubbed-against and wet face makes you cum.

how could it not?

“that was.. actually pretty hot,” ellie would blurt, after it had happened. after she had tugged herself enough to cum. regardless, she still had a couple laughs left in her system, and urged against her ribs to get them out while the patron of her affection was still in her presence—still on her doorstep. she would rather you be more than just a hookup. “i'm so fuckin' stupid about you, it's a little embarassing.” the door frame quietly settled with her leaning on it. “uh, you free tomorrow?”

[ink-perfect]

thinking about toji and the way he hypes you up like it’s his full-time job, benefits and all.

he’s not the loud, overly enthusiastic type—no cheering or over-the-top confessions. nah, toji's style is smoother, more suave, but no less impactful. he’s the guy leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching you do your thing with a look that says yeah, that’s my baby.

when you’re nervous about something, from a big presentation to even just picking out an outfit to go out, he’s right there with his low, gravelly reassurance. "you got this. you’re better than all those other scrubs combined.”

and when you do kill it—like he knew you would—he’s the first to smirk, to drop that deep chuckle and say something maddeningly cocky like, “told ya. nobody got nothin' on my girl.”

and it’s not just when you do things right either. you can mess up and he won't even let you notice. burned your toast? ���eh, crunchy’s better anyway.” tripped over your own feet? “sick moves, ma.”

and his favourite is when you're trying on clothes in front of him. “turn around...yeah, that’s the one, honey. you’re dangerous in that.”

he notices everything, even when you think he doesn’t. and when he says something about how you light up a room or make things look easy, it’s not flattery. it’s fact, at least the way he sees it. and if you dare to call him out for making you flustered? “tch. quit whining, dumbass. i'm just tellin' it like it is—you’re seriously a damn angel or something.”

because toji might not say “i love you” all the time, but in the way he's always by your side, making you feel like you’re unstoppable? yeah, it’s written all over him.

© 𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓; est 2024.

[astoldbylanii]

Say It

ఌpaige bueckers x reader

warnings: 18+, smut, ovulation went crazy this month😭, basically no plot...like at all

inspired by - say it by ne-yo

---------☙

"Paige please..."

The only two words your brain could fathom right now, and you were lucky they made a sentence. She was the reason why.

"Please what baby?" She asked, but she knew the answer. She always knew what you wanted. She could tell from the way your body pushed itself closer to her hand. From the way your jaw fell open just from her light touches. From how soaked you were. Paige was fluent in the language your body spoke. Yet, she still didn't give it what it wanted needed.

"Come on now, I can't give you what you want unless you tell me what it is? I'm not a mind reader, baby." She insisted. That was a lie. Partially, anyway. She could read you in every way. Her hand traveled familiar paths down your hot skin. One of her hands traced careful circles on your thigh as the other was pressed into the bed, right beside your head. "Here? Is here good?" She pressed when you whined as her hand grazed over your wet lips.

"Baby-"

"Or here? Hm?" She cut you off, her fingers sinking between your lips to graze your clit. Just as fast as they were there, they left. A frustrated whine left your lips once again. "Come on baby, it's a simple question. Where do you want me?"

"Paige just-" You couldn't complete the sentence, but you could lead her hand down to where you wanted her. She tutted, pulling her wrist away from your hold.

"Now you know better." She scolded, but there was no real bite in her words. "Come on baby, just say it. All that running your mouth earlier and now you can't use your words? Say it baby, tell me what you want so I can give it to you. Can't be that hard." She teased, a cocky smile coming across her face as she watched you struggle every time her fingers brushed against your clit.

"Paige please. Need you so bad, P."

"Mhm, keep going. Tell me where." She encouraged, finally giving in and rubbing your that perfect button between your soaked lips.

"E- everywhere. Need your fingers inside, need your mouth on me. Please Paige- oh-" You were cut off by her finally giving you what you needed. Two of her fingers finally slipped into you with ease.

“That’s my good girl, finally using your mouth for something good.” She said with a proud smile. You moaned, gripping tight onto her shoulder as she smoothly got into a rhythm. “I’ma give you what you want but you gotta keep being vocal for me, ‘kay?”

“Mkay.” You panted out. You would do anything she wanted as long as she stopped talking and put her mouth where you needed it. Paige pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, continuing to press wet, open mouth kisses down the rest of your body until she reached between your thighs.

“I need to hear you from down here, baby. Let your moans be loud as your disrespect was earlier and keep your eyes on me.” She ordered, and you knew the underlying promise she hadn’t said. If you don’t listen, she’ll stop. So, you nodded in agreeance, your hand finding the back of her head as a silent urge. Paige laughed at your impatience, her free hand rubbing your thigh comfortingly as her fingers kept up her place. She press a swift kiss to your clit before taking between her lips,, sucking hard.

“Paige!” You cried out. Already, she almost had you throwing your head back as you let out a loud moan, finally receiving some relief. Paige kept up her pace with her fingers, flicking your clit with her tongue. Her first two fingers curled against your spot deliciously before she added a third, grazing that same spot again. “Oh fuck- right there, baby.” You said, as if she didn’t already know.

Paige sped her fingers up as her tongue circled around your pink clit before taking it into her mouth once again, never breaking eye contact.

“Oh goddd, Paige…” You whined. Though you hoped there was no god watching how Paige devoured your pussy right now. Your fingers gripped her hair harder as her fingers began to thrust harder, her eyebrows furrowing as she focused on you and your pleasure. She moaned into you, feeling the way you tugged on her blonde hair, as if she could get any closer. Just as you were about to reach that peak, just as your aching hole clenched around Paige’s fingers, she pulled her mouth away.

“Say it, tell me what you need, baby.” She said, waiting for you to follow through as her fingers kept moving. She watched with a smile as your mouth opened and close, being patient for the words to fall from your pretty lips. All that came was another moan.

“I know baby, I know. But you gotta tell me, show me how sorry you are for how you spoke earlier. Use your words now, pretty thing.” Paige tried to comfort, but her voice was only making it worse. She still was patient with you, her fingers keeping you right on edge. She knew you needed her mouth to finish you off.

“Need to cum, please Paige, please…”

“Mhm, that’s it baby.” She praised proudly, pressing a soft kiss right below your belly button before she removed her fingers only to be replaced by her tongue. Her tongue moved in and out quickly while her soaked digits rubbed your clit just as rapidly as her tongue fucked you.

“Oh shit-” Your back arched up off the bed, head thrown back as a high pitched moan left your throat that you knew Paige would mock you for later. Your body tensed, overwhelmed by the sudden change of pace before you came, making a mess on Paige’s tongue that she was happy to clean up.

Your legs spasmed around Paige’s head as she tenderly licked up the creamy essence that your pussy couldn’t seem to stop from exiting your body. Your now empty hole clenched around nothing as Paige pressed a final kiss to your clit before leaving to go get something to clean you up. You panted, trying to allow your body to come down from its high.

You were drifting off when Paige returned, only to receive a slap to your thigh that woke you right up. You look at her, confused until your eyes wander down to find the false dick attached to her hips. She smirks at the confused look on your face.

"Not you thinking we was done. Nah, turn that ass over."

"But Paige-"

"What'd I say?" She interrupted your protest, grabbing your hips and pulling down closer to the edge of the bed. “I said keep your eyes on me, and even though you look so fucking sexy when you throw your head back while you cum for me, that’s breaking eye contact baby. And contrary to what some may say, I’m a woman of my word. So we’re not done.”

“Paige, I don’t know if I can do anymore.” You admitted. The blonde haired made a noise that sounded like a scoff in response to your words. She shook her head at you, her hands traveling up and down your trembling thighs carefully.

“Come on now, you’ve done much more than this before. If you really don’t think you can, you know what to say, but I think you better tell your pussy that.” She tempted, her hand wandering to your aching cunt just to drag her thumb up and down your sopping lips. “She’s so ready for me, I know you can take more. Plus I think I deserve it after how you treated me earlier, hm?” Paige egged on, her fingers still mindlessly teasing you as her blue eyes bored into yours.

She was right too, you did kind of feel bad for the things you had said earlier. You were already thinking of ways to make it up to her but this was not on the list. Though, feeling the way her thumb began to rub your clit slowly, the way your body was reacting to her touch, you couldn’t help but to agree to go another round.

Paige smiled, her hand still making a mess of your pussy as she leaned down to give your soft lips a delicate kiss. You could still taste yourself on her tongue from when she had just made you cum before.

Paige pulled away just as she felt herself getting too deep into the kiss, a wet string of spit still connecting the two of you before you leaned up to get one last peck in. She finally pulled her hand away from your lower lips with a wet tap, bringing her thumb up to suck your juices off as she waited for you to turn around.

“Yeah, perfect like that, pretty girl.” The athlete complimented, pushing her palm into your back to make your arch a little bit deeper once you got on all fours. “Just like that…” she muttered to herself staring at your round ass. You already has a good body when you’d first met her, but she’d like to think the growth in your glutes was due to her, and not just because she’s been making you work out with her.

Paige gave your ass a quick tap, watching it move before she spread you for her, leaning down to spit on your pussy. Though, it wasn’t like it needed anymore lubricant. She spit on the 7-inch shaft as well, using her hand to get it nice and wet for you. With that, she leaned down to press a swift kiss to the side of your neck, one hand gripping your hip while the other guided the purple dick inside of you.

You both groaned out at the entrance. You because of the feeling, and her because she was enjoying watching the length disappear between your soaked lips.

“Fuck.” She let the curse tumble from her lips with ease. Once the length had completely disappeared, she let go of the base of the cock, instead, letting that hand travel up to grip your shoulder. She gave you one testing thrust to get used to the intrusion before her thrust became harsher. Her pace was fast, not wasting a second before picking up speed.

Paige bit her lip, watching the way your as recoiled against her hips before giving into temptation and giving it a hard smack. That plus her constant thrusts almost caused you to lose balance, but Paige was quick to fix you up.

“Nuh uh, keep that arch how I like it.” She scolded. It seemed like she was only getting rougher as the grip on your hip tightened and she began pulling your hips back to meet her thrusts.

“Oh fuck, Paige-” You moaned out. Loud clapping sound around the room as you gripped the sheets beneath you.

“Huh? You wanted to say something, baby?” She asked, breathing heavily as she waited for you to reply. She tsked when nothing but moans fell from your lips. “Damn baby, I know it feels good but I asked you something.” Paige said, her caring tone contrasting with the way her hips met your ass harshly. She swiftly swooped your hair into makeshift ponytail, pulling you up so her lips were next to your ear. “Since you can’t think of what to say right now, I’ma tell you. Say you’re sorry. Say you’re sorry for how you spoke to me earlier, you’re sorry for you’re nasty ass attitude. Cause, you are, right baby? You sorry?”

You nodded as much as you could with her tight grip on your hair, a whine falling from your lips once again. Paige chuckled, licking up your neck before sucking a hickey into your skin, right behind your ear.

“Say that shit then. Tell me you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry Paige. So sorry, oh fuck- didn’t mean it baby. Just missed you so oh-“ You gasped as Paige made a particularly hard thrust rub right up against your spot. “Shit Paige…”

“Yeah, I know pretty girl.” Paige said, finally releasing your hair from her grip. Only for her to push your head down into the pillow, her other hand still squeezing your hip. “I’ll accept your apology, just need you to cum for me baby.”

Paige kept aiming for that same spot, getting it everytime. Your moans were getting louder and louder with every thrust, almost overpowering the sound of applause in the room. You were right on edge, clenching your eyes tight as your body began to tremble against the mattress in a way only Paige could make it shake. Your hole clenched so tight around Paige’s cock that it made it hard for her to continue at her pace, but she kept on. Thank god you married an athlete.

“Come on baby, show me how sorry you are. Give it to me.” Just as she finished her sentence, her hand reach around to rub your clit, her fingers quickly matching her thrusts pace. That combined with the sound of her voice, plus the way that her dick kept brushing so perfectly against your spot had you falling apart just for her. “Oh yeah, just like that baby.” She praised as you came, her hand not slowing down as she watched you squirt all over her hand as pussy pushed her out along with your cum.

With shaky legs, you collapsed. Panting tired from the intensity of it all. You felt, Paige's cool hands gently rubbing on your hot skin, attempting to calm you down. Once your breath leveled out, she turned you to lay in your back once again.

"You okay?" She asked, hands running over your hips. You nodded, your heavy eyelids causing Paige to smile faintly. Your hands found hers and you intertwined them as she leaned down to peck your lips.

"I'm sorry." You whispered against skin, already trying to regain your strength to show just how sorry you were.

"I know." She whispered back with a smile.

[dirtylittlesecre7]

Oh my gosh— someone who writes for nam-gyu? Am I dreaming?! I CANNOT find any fics of him!! Need headcannons about him rn😩 I feel like that man would enjoy making you cry and upset, like he would grin and laugh while doing so. (Cough— Hatefuck—cough..) Just need headcannons about that man so bad😩🫣

This is actually my first time asking, so I really don't know what to say🥲 but I hope you consider this🫶🫶🫶

-🌟anon

warning | nsfw content

word count | 0,6k

a/n | thank you so much for your request luv! I hope I could write something as you wanted

！he's had mixed feelings from the moment he first saw you. hate? anger? like?

oh no, not like. he just hates you so much that he wants to fuck you until you know your place.

"fucking bitch."

"huh?" thanos looked at him incomprehensibly, about to turn his head to you, but nam-gyu quickly changed the subject "nothing."

！he's insanely jealous of thanos👀 even if you don't respond to his flirting, seeing a man next to you makes him angry enough. at least it gives him a reason to make you cry more.

！he should be the only one who annoys you. if he sees someone picking on you, he'll quickly intervene, at first he'll protect you from that person, but then...

"are you too stupid to not protect yourself? no. don't even think about crying." his emotionless voice makes you tremble as he watches you quickly wipe your tears away "good. don't you dare unless I make those tears flow."

！he likes to tease you until you cry because he thinks you look so beautiful with tears in your eyes. If you turn your head and try to hide your face from him, he will forcefully grab your chin and make you look at him with your eyes full of tears. you will see that he is trying to calm down by taking a deep breath because oh...you have no idea how horny he is.

！If he can't sleep at night, he will come to your bed and bother you. If he can't sleep, you can't sleep either. but strangely, talking at night is when you get along the most. guess you are both too tired to argue, but that doesn't mean he won't say a few things about you.

okay, now please hear me out..

！this man is completely clingy when he loves you, but he is also hard when he fucks you, I can't say he doesn't like slow sex, but when he can fuck you like crazy, he doesn't really think about the other option.

！I say clingy because he can never be comfortable if his hand is not on your body in some way. he has to touch you in some way so that he feels better. when you least expect it, you may find his hands on your waist pulling you closer to him "mm...look who's here?"

！If we talk about life outside of the game, you can become his only world. yes, he likes to make you cry and upset. but only you. the others have never caught his attention and they don't. he still thinks you have the most beautiful tears.

！I can't say he's very loud in bed. he'll mostly let out short gasps and short moans. he likes listening to you more, whine for him and he'll make you see stars.

！he likes to tease you and make you cum so much that you cry from sensitivity. when you beg him to stop, he just puckers his lower lip in a mocking tone.

"aw.. does it hurt? what should I do?" he leans into your ear while his fingers, which don't stop, hit the inside of your pussy hard while you just had your 3rd orgasm "Is that all you can take? c'mon.. you can give me more, hm? ah..yes don't hide your voice from me, fuck-"

！he'll run his hand over you while you're sleeping at night, sorry not sorry. when you open your eyes and notices how his fingers are expertly tangled in your wetness, he'll smirk and say "you awake? good. now you better spread your legs for me and be loud as possible."

he's obsessed with you in some way, romantic or not, and he has no plans to leave your side.

[stargirlstabber]

sharing is caring

featuring. sevika and jinx

a/n. i wrote this tonight and uh- not guaranteed that everything makes sense, i typed that in my notes with my eyes half in my skull already :) english isn't my first language, but i already know y'all don't care✨

cw. smut, MDNI, smoking, riding vika's strap on, nipple play, some spanks, dom/sub

sevika leaned back on the couch in silco's office. she smoked a cigarette while she watched you struggle to lift yourself up and down on her thick strap on.

ridden of any clothing that might get in the way, your body was bare. a big contrast to your girlfriend, who was almost fully clothed under you, pants only opened enough to secure the strap on on her hips. sevika liked that contrast.

"c'mon, little girl, you can do better than that", she patted your thigh with her mechanical arm, gripping your flesh before giving it a spank.

without a warning, sevika skyrocketed her hips, pushing her strap on up to a place you thought it couldn't reach. with squeezed shut eyes, you let your body fall forward, burying your girlfriend's face between your tits. a smirk was across her lips, liking the gaspy moan that left your plump lips.

her hand now gave your ass a rather harsh spank, "i didn't tell you to stop, did i? go on."

your trembling legs were on either side of her hips and your sweaty hands on her collarbones, trying to steady yourself, still feeling her deep inside as you continue to lift yourself up and down. the muscular woman comfortably slouched there, admiring your bouncing tits and enjoying your whines and whimpers as you ride her.

but she didn't expect jinx to come in. not at all. the blue haired girl was taken off guard by the sight, but shrugged it off quickly, walking towards the two of you. puffing some smoke out, sevika glanced at her over your shoulder.

feeling a new hand snaking its way up and giving your breast a squeeze, your head whipped around in surprise, seeing a hue of blue before the second hand quickly comes up and turns your head back to facing sevika.

"tut tut tut, keep your eyes on her."

jinx.

and you did, your eyes met sevika's orbs. she just nodded, wordlessly telling you that it's okay for her, if you were okay with it. it was your time to nod.

you didn't have anything against the idea of jinx joining in, knowing sevika would stop her if she'd done something she shouldn't.

jinx has always liked teasing you. ever since sevika introduced her to you after you unexpectedly showed up to bring your girlfriend something she forgot at home.

now she's teasing you again. just not with words, but this time with actions. with her hands.

her fingers rolled your nipples between them, tugging and squeezing the sensitive buds here and there to tickle a moan out of you as she helped you, guiding your movements on top of sevika.

the young woman's voice was close to your ear, "oh, you like that, huh? me playing with these little nubs, hm?"

the only answer she got was a whine when her hands left your tits.

"don't you worryyy, just concentrate on giving your girlfriend a show", her hands ran down your sides before going to your drenched little cunt, targeting your swollen clit as her next victim.

you were being a good girl, so you did as you were told. you concentrated on giving sevika her 'show'.

hands still on her collarbones for a tiny bit of support, you started once again. lifting your hips before going back down again and again and again.

the room was filled with moans, whines and whimpers from you, here and there a groan or a huff from sevika and snickers from jinx. and, of course, the squelchy sound of your pussy stretching around vika's dick.

soon, very soon actually, another orgasm tightened inside of you, crash I down on you like a tsunami.

your vision went white, limbs shaking as your mouth hung open, unable to push a single sound out at the overwhelming feeling.

with a smirk on her face, the blue haired kept on assaulting your clit, not leaving the overstimulated bud alone for even a second.

sevika started rocking her hips up into you with a steady rhythm, pushing two of her fingers into your mouth.

you, still in a daze, instinctively started sucking, swirling your tongue around her digits.

"sharing is caring", jinx's eyes practically lit up after she scooped a little amount of cum, that pushed itself fast the tight fit of you around sevika, and greedily tasted it, "gotta get her to give me more of that."

vika's hand now took a hold of your hair and  pulled you down, "you gonna be a good girl for me and give jinx what she wants?"