#and thought about what to do for the next session

[hoshifighting]

idk if someone asked you this but i’m a new reader and I REALLY REALLY LOVE YOUR WORKS!!!

can you please make wonwoo, the nerdy president who u thought was innocent and sweet but he’s the one behind ur fave nsfw audio creator???? AND HE’S A HARDFUCKER.. not what u expected tho..

i don’t know if i make sense but please pretty please 😭☝️

Synopsis: where you discover that the nerdy class president is the one man who creates the most nasty NSFW audios that you spend long nights listening to. WC: 2.8k WARNINGS: smut, audio porn, masturbation, hard fuck, dirty talk (obviously), bad sleeping habits (because of wonwoo), fingering, spanking, dirty talk, pussy eating, penetrative sex, protected sex, wonwoo whining, a lil invasion of privacy.

you’ve been running on fumes all day, the hazy buzz of sleep deprivation clinging to your brain like static. it’s no surprise, really. your night had gone the way it always does: you got home, flopped into your chair, threw on your headphones, and let onyx_lens—your favorite nsfw asmr creator—drag you under with that stupidly deep voice of his.

it was kind of pathetic, actually. you barely remember what the script was about—something about obedience or whatever—but you do remember the sound of his voice sinking into your brain like warm honey, making you cum so hard that you blacked the fuck out right after. now here you were, bleary-eyed and trying to stay upright in literature class, the regret of last night’s poor choices catching up with you.

wonwoo, the class president who was somehow both effortlessly chill and annoyingly observant, had been glancing at you every few minutes. you could feel his eyes on you as your head dipped forward for the third time, only to snap back up like a busted bobblehead.

but, in true wonwoo fashion, he didn’t say anything. no scolding, no judgmental sighs—just quiet observation.

when class finally ended, you were ready to yeet yourself into a nap for a solid 72 hours. you were shoving your stuff into your bag when wonwoo’s voice cut through the noise.

“you good?”

you froze. his voice wasn’t the same as onyx_lens’s, obviously, but it had that same deep, smooth timbre that made your brain short-circuit for a second. it didn’t help that his question sounded so much like something out of an nsfw script. you turned to face him, hoping your face wasn’t giving away how flustered you suddenly were. “uh—yeah,” you said, shaking your head a little too quickly. “just tired.”

wonwoo raised an eyebrow. “not sleeping well?”

your brain screamed. your tired, half-horny brain screamed louder. the overlap of his voice and onyx_lens in your head was un-fucking-bearable. you managed to nod, muttering something about late nights and deadlines, hoping he wouldn’t pry.

he didn’t, but his next question wasn’t much better.

“think you could help me with the sci-fi project? your last lit analysis was good, and i could use the extra pair of hands.”

you blinked at him. “me?”

he nodded, adjusting his glasses. “you. unless you’re too busy with...whatever’s keeping you up.”

oh, you mean my nightly sessions with onyx_lens and my vibrator?

you swallowed hard and tried to play it cool. “nah, i can help.”

and that’s how you found yourself standing outside wonwoo’s apartment later that evening, clutching your bag. his place was exactly what you’d expect from him—minimalist, neat, and smelling faintly of coffee.

“come in,” he said, holding the door open for you. “make yourself comfortable.”

easier said than done. you perched awkwardly on his couch as he set up his laptop on the coffee table, your eyes darting around the room in an attempt to ignore how nice his voice sounded in person.

“so,” he began, sitting across from you, “any ideas for the project?”

you cleared your throat, trying to focus. “uh, maybe something about robots and humanity? like, exploring ethical dilemmas or something.”

wonwoo nodded thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on you in a way that made your skin heat. “good idea. we could tie that into the main themes from class.”

he leaned forward slightly, scrolling through a document on his laptop, and you couldn’t help but notice how his glasses slipped down his nose. you were so not prepared for this level of proximity or his stupidly deep voice.

“you okay?” he asked again, glancing at you.

you blinked, realizing you’d been staring. “yeah, just...thinking.”

his lips twitched into a small, knowing smile. “good. let me know if you need a break or...anything.”

the way he said anything sent a shiver down your spine. you weren’t sure if it was exhaustion, residual arousal from last night, or the sheer presence of wonwoo in his element, but your brain was a mess.

you were supposed to be helping him with this project, but all you could think about was the way his voice would sound whispering in your ear, saying things that would make onyx_lens blush.

you were so close to winning the “most pathetic college student of the year” award it wasn’t even funny. after much back-and-forth with wonwoo, class president of your downfall, you somehow convinced him to let you walk home alone. except the man still went all soft and paid for a taxi anyway, which, like… thanks? but also stop being so nice, what the hell.

it was nearing 11 p.m. when you got home, and as if on cue, your phone pinged with a notification: onyx_lens’s weekly live is starting.

you stared at it for a second, blinking in disbelief. today’s theme? "neon circuits and orgasm denial (a cyberpunk experience) 8d audio"

sci-fi-themed. of fucking course.

you almost laughed at the audacity of the universe for this one. was this some sort of cosmic joke? was wonwoo onyx_lens?! no way. no goddamn way. you shook off the thought as delulu nonsense and dragged yourself to the bathroom for a quick sponge bath.

by the time you flopped into your chair, headphones on, the live was already in full swing. that voice—that stupidly deep, velvety voice—flooded your ears as the chat buzzed with unhinged comments. onyx purred, and you were done for.

you couldn’t even focus on the sci-fi plot he was spinning, something about rogue androids, monster cock, neon vibrators and human experimentation. his voice wrapped around you like a silk chokehold, and you were gone—just a vibrating mess in your chair, coming undone embarrassingly fast.

fast forward to the next morning: you woke up feeling like a used dishrag. again. headphones still on, your phone dead, and the memory of last night’s live replaying in your brain like a broken record.

by the time you dragged yourself to class, you were running on fumes and vibes. your hoodie was scrunched up around your face, making you look like a cross between a gremlin and an overgrown baby.

wonwoo noticed. you could feel his eyes boring into you as you tried—and failed—to stay upright. you were so close to just giving in and laying flat on the floor. honestly, it might’ve been comfier than your chair at that point.

wonwoo, sitting two rows away, looked like he was internally debating whether to intervene or let you rot in peace. when the bell rang, you startled awake like you’d been electrocuted, nearly knocking your stuff off your desk in the process.

“you okay?” he asked, falling into step beside you as you shuffled out of the classroom like a zombie.

“i’m fine,” you mumbled, voice muffled by your hoodie. “just need food. like, now.”

you detoured to the convenience store on the way to his apartment, snagging an entire kimbap roll and tearing into it like a starving animal. wonwoo followed behind, holding your water bottle with a look that was equal parts judgment and amusement.

“you couldn’t wait?” he asked, watching as you ate half the roll in one bite.

“bro,” you said around a mouthful of rice, “if i didn’t eat this, i was gonna pass out on the cold asphalt. your problem now, mr. class president.”

he rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, just handed you your water like the reluctant babysitter he was.

this was going to be a long afternoon.

you couldn’t help yourself. the suspicion had been eating away at you for weeks now, ever since you first heard his voice in class and that nagging sense of déjà vu set in. wonwoo had escaped to the bathroom, and you had the perfect opportunity to snoop.

your fingers hovered over his notebook, but then your gaze darted back to your own screen. back and forth, back and forth. his notebook. yours. the coincidences were piling up like a conspiracy wall in your head. the voice, the specific vocabulary choices, even the cadence—how did i not notice this earlier?!

“fuck it,” you whispered to yourself, grabbing his notebook and quickly pulling up the site where you normally streamed your favorite asmr creator. just to check. just to confirm your theory.

your heart pounded as the site loaded, every second dragging like molasses. the channel page opened, and at first, it seemed normal. too normal. you almost clicked away, feeling stupid for even suspecting anything.

but then you saw it: edit profile. analytics.

your breath caught, and a sharp scoff escaped you as you crossed your arms. oh, my god. the realization hit you like a freight train. it’s him. wonwoo. class president. sci-fi nerd. “how the fuck did i not notice?” you muttered, half impressed by his audacity.

you were so lost in your spiraling thoughts that you didn’t hear him return—until his voice, practically kissed your earlobe.

“what. do. you. think. you. are. doing?”

you jumped so hard your knee slammed into the underside of the desk. whipping around, you found wonwoo standing over you, his expression unreadable but his jaw tight.

“uh—nothing?” you stammered, trying to slam your laptop shut, but his hand darted out and stopped you.

“‘nothing’ doesn’t look like you snooping through my computer,” he said, his voice dangerously calm.

your cheeks burned. “okay, fine, maybe i was curious—”

“you were curious?” his tone sharpened. “curious enough to invade my privacy?”

“invade your—bro, you’re literally whispering dirty robot sex fantasies to the entire internet. how is that private?”

“that’s different!” his ears flushed a deep red, and you couldn’t tell if it was from anger or embarrassment. “that’s content. this—this is personal.”

you rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “oh, please. you’re mad i figured it out. admit it.”

he leaned closer, towering over you now, his hand pressing down on the desk beside you. “what do you want, huh? blackmail? are you gonna tell everyone?”

you laughed, loud and incredulous. “tell everyone?! dude, relax. i’m not gonna expose your little side hustle. besides…” you smirked, tilting your head to look up at him. “you should be thanking me. clearly, i’m a fan.”

wonwoo’s eyes darkened, and his lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out. 

“you’re a what?” he asks, your pulse skyrocketing as he stepped even closer, crowding you against the chair.

“did i stutter?” you whispered, the challenge clear in your tone.

his mouth crashed onto yours, teeth and tongue and frustration. you barely had time to process it before he was yanking you out of the chair, his hands rough as they gripped your hips and spun you around.

“you want to act like a brat,” he growled into your ear, his voice so reminiscent of his asmr persona that it made you roll your eyes back slighty, “then you’re gonna get treated like one.”

he bent you over the desk, the cold surface pressing against your chest as he yanked down your college skirt and underwear at once. his fingers slid through your folds, already slick just from being around him.

“so fucking wet,” he muttered, almost to himself. “you get off on this, don’t you? knowing it’s me.”

“shut your mouth,” you gasped, but it came out more like a moan as he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them and pressing them hard on your front wall.

“make me,” he challenged, his other hand coming down sharply on your ass. the sting made you gasp, your hips jerking against his hand as you tense on the desk.

the pace of his fingers was relentless, his thumb circling your clit in time with the thrusts. every part of your body was starting to be feveirsh, and you hated—hated—how easily he was unraveling you. you spent nights thinking about how it would be if onyx fucked you, and here you are. of course you would be a mess in a second.

“sorry” he mocked you. “am i too much for you?”

you clenched around his fingers, your nails digging into the desk as you tried to hold back a moan. “you talk too fucking much actually wonwoo,” you hissed.

“yeah, that's what's paying me at nights” wonwoo chuckled darkly, pulling his fingers out and flipping you onto your back with his big arms. before you could protest, he was kneeling between your legs, his mouth suddenly hot and insistent against your core, better than any other vibrator you insisted on using at night.

the sounds—the wet, obscene sounds of his tongue—mixed with your whimpers as he devoured you like a man starved. his hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as you tried to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation.

“stop—”

“stop?” he looked up, his chin glistening. “not until you admit i’m your favorite.”

you glared down at him, breathless and defiant. “you’re such an asshole.”

“and yet…” he smirked, diving back in and flicking his tongue against your clit until your head fell back, a broken moan spilling from your lips.

it didn’t take long before you were coming undone, your body shaking as his mouth pulled your clit. wonwoo didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, dragging out your orgasm until you were a trembling, incoherent chaos beneath him.

wonwoo doesn’t waste a second after pulling back, his hands flipping you over again so you’re bent over the desk, your cheek pressed to the cool surface as he grinds against you. the thick outline of his cock rubs against your dripping folds, still covered by the soft fabric of his grey sweatpants. you gasp, your hips jerking back involuntarily, and his pearly-white smile flashes above you.

“look at that,” he murmurs, almost smug, as a dark spot begins to spread on his sweatpants from your slick. “you’re soaking me through.”

the way he emphasizes the word makes your back contort in shivers, but you’re too far gone to care. your fingers claw at the desk as he keeps humping against you, his pace quickening. when he finally pulls back, you hear the shuffle of fabric as he yanks down his sweatpants and briefs. the soft clink of a drawer opening catches your attention, and you crane your neck to see him sliding on a condom.

“you’re still melting all over my desk,” he rubs a hand over the curve of your ass. “can’t even wait for me, huh?”

before you can respond, his hand comes down sharply on your ass, the sting making you gasp. he doesn’t stop, spanking you again and again until your skin is flushed and burning.

“you look so pretty like this,” he says, his hand smoothing over the heated skin before gripping your waist and lining himself up. “all messy and desperate for me.”

when he pushes in, stretching you inch by inch until you’re full and breathless, pussy trying to clench at his big grith to adjust. wonwoo groans, his head falling forward as he sinks in to the hilt.

your walls flutter around him, and he moans at the feeling, the sound so real and raw that it sends a jolt straight to your core.

“talk to me,” you manage to gasp, your voice muffled against the desk.

he chuckles, his pace picking up as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “you want me to talk dirty? you want me to tell you how tight you are? how good you’re taking me?”

you moan in response, your hips bucking back against him as his words send you curling.

“yeah, you like that, don’t you?” he continues, his voice thick with lust. your moans grow louder, and he suddenly remembers the videos you must’ve listened to—the whining, the moaning. the thought makes his stomach flip, and he decides to give you exactly what you want.

he starts letting out soft whimpers, his voice breaking with each thrust, the sounds spilling out almost involuntarily. “fuck, babe, you’re gonna make me cum—”

the genuine desperation in his voice drives you wild, and your body clenches around him, pulling him deeper. he groans, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you’re sure they’ll leave marks, but you don’t care.

“please,” he moans, his voice high and strained. “let me cum for you. let me—fuck—”

you push back against him, meeting his thrusts as your own climax builds, your breaths coming in short, broken gasps. the room is filled with the wet, obscene sounds of your bodies moving together, and the tension snaps all at once.

you come hard, your body shaking as you cry out, and wonwoo isn’t far behind. his hips stutter, a guttural moan escaping him as he spills into the condom, his body trembling with the force of it.

he collapses over you, his chest heaving against your back as you both try to catch your breath. after a moment, he presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck, his voice still hoarse as he murmurs, “guess i’m a little better live, hm?”

you just let out a defeated moan, the coldness of the table soothing your hot cheeks.

“keep quiet about this, and i'll keep giving you more.” well, it's just an excuse that wonwoo said to fuck you over again.

[brokenmenswhore]

a proposition: a return | poly!marauders

#4

pairing: poly!marauders x fem!reader (james, remus, and sirius, featuring alecto, dorcas, evan, lily, marlene, and mary)

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), voyeurism

a/n: if you’ve requested to be on the taglist but didn’t get tagged, check the taglist at the bottom to see if your account is unlinked, and if so check your settings to make sure i can tag you! i added everyone’s @ even if it didn’t let me tag an account to it. also i don’t have it in me to proofread 17 times anymore sorry for any errors

a proposition: masterlist

────── ☾ ──────

When you approached the girls, who were seated around their usual Gryffindor table after class for a study session, you were immediately thrown by the unfamiliar face among them.

“Y/N! Come sit!”

Lily’s usual excitement shone through as she patted the empty spot on the bench next to her. You tentatively sat down, hoping someone would introduce you to the unfamiliar person, but she was occupying the group too much to even take notice of you.

“And they call the bin a trash can. I mean talk about being literal, right? I swear, if one more person over there called something by the exact descriptor of what it was, I would have thrown a book at their head.”

The table chuckled at her story.

“Marlene, this is Y/N,” Lily chimed in once the girl was done speaking.

Marlene turned her head toward you, scanning the visible portion of your body before landing on your face. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you responded, flushed and uncomfortable.

“So you’re a part of this group now?” Marlene asked completely unprompted.

You were slightly taken aback. “Yeah, yeah, I guess.”

“Well you either are or you aren’t.”

You stared at her for a moment, unsure of how to act. You had never met this person, and now she was snapping at you. “I am.”

Instead of responding to you, Marlene turned to Lily and said, “I thought this was a set thing? Since when do we let new people in?”

“God, Marls, it’s not like there’s a rule book,” Dorcas said.

“We literally all agreed, Dorcas,” Marlene bounced back.

“And we all agreed to include Y/N,” Lily smiled, refusing to include herself in the tension of the conversation.

“I didn’t,” Marlene responded, leaning on her elbows over the table in a confrontational stance.

“You weren’t here,” Dorcas fought.

Marlene took a deep breath before grabbing her books and standing up. “I’ll see you guys later,” she said, exiting the Great Hall in a huff.

You looked around in hopes that someone, anyone, would explain to you exactly what just happened. Instead, the table stayed quiet, refusing to acknowledge any of it as they continued studying.

You were too nervous to ask, so you pretended like nothing happened as you pulled out your books.

The next day, in between classes, you ran into Sirius in the library. You were met with two consecutive free blocks, which allowed you time to study. Sirius, on the other hand, just didn’t feel like attending charms.

“Aren’t you usually in class right now?” he said, catching you browsing through the shelves of books.

“Mhm.”

“You’re skipping?”

“I have it free today.”

Sirius furrowed his brow as he studied your face. It was unlike you to be so dry in your answers.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, engrossed in your own thoughts about Marlene and her reaction to you. You hadn’t realized how you were speaking to Sirius.

“Wanna sit for a second?” Sirius said, nonchalant as if your answer wouldn’t phase him.

“Sure,” you shrugged, approaching a nearby table.

Sirius sat across from you, studying your face as you tried to arrange your books. You peered up at him for a second, noticing his gaze but pretending you didn’t.

You thought about speaking, but weren’t capable of acting as though you weren’t bothered. If this person was part of the group, surely Sirius knew her already, so you decided to test it out.

“Marlene’s back, you know,” you said, as if you were completely in the know about everything regarding this mysterious new person.

“I know,” Sirius responded, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

You waited to see if he would elaborate any further, but he simply sat there, smoking his cigarette, staring at you.

“I didn’t even know she existed until this morning,” you said, “is there a reason no one told me? She was pretty cold to me.”

“That’s just Marlene,” Sirius brushed it off. He seemed as if he didn’t want to talk about it, but you couldn’t stop yourself from pushing it.

“Where has she been? I’ve never seen her before,” you asked.

Sirius sighed. “She spent a year at Ilvermorny.”

You were getting frustrated from how little information Sirius was giving you. He was strategically only answering your exact question, and only doing so in the most concise way possible.

“Why?” you pressed.

“Wanted a year away,” he said.

You sighed. “Sirius, you’re not giving me much.”

Sirius sat upward, leaning his elbows on the table and smiling in amusement at your interest. “Why so curious?”

“Just wondering what happened is all.”

Sirius saw the intrigue on your face and caved. “She took a year away from here after a bunch of drama happened. She was falling pretty hard for someone in our group and that person wasn’t really the monogamous type. They got in a huge fight, the whole group was there- it got really messy. She couldn’t take it anymore and decided to transfer schools. Guess she’s back now,” he finally explained.

“She wasn’t supposed to come back?”

“I have no idea. She only told Dorcas she was leaving. That’s the only reason we all knew.”

You nodded your head, flipping through the pages of a textbook as if this new information meant nothing of importance to you.

“So she left the group?”

Sirius sighed. “She left the school, Y/N. I don’t think anyone expected her to show back up.”

“So she never officially left the group.”

“Why would it matter?” Sirius smiled, “you jealous of her or somethin’?”

“What? No,” you said, “I just didn’t know this person existed and she was a real bitch to me earlier. Just wondering why.”

Sirius leaned an arm over the table and put his hand over yours. “You have nothin’ to worry about.”

The gesture was unlike Sirius, but you appreciated it nevertheless, and you smiled at him to show it.

────── ☾ ──────

“So you’re in this now, hm?”

You, startled by the sudden voice, whipped your head around to see Marlene McKinnon jogging to catch up to you in the hallway.

“Yeah,” you said as you continued on your route to class.

“What’s so special that you’ve got Sirius Black asking for you to join? You that good of a lay? The whore of Hufflepuff?”

You stopped on your tracks, wiping stray hairs out of your face as you huffed, “what?”

“I just mean, Sirius isn’t really one to pick and choose,” she said, sizing you up, “you must have gotten a glowing endorsement from someone. Let me guess, Remus?”

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you brushed her off.

“Sirius Black wouldn’t invite a lower-year virgin into our little group,” Marlene said, “he just wouldn’t. So fess up.”

“This is insane,” you said, turning forward and beginning to walk again.

Marlene stepped in front of you, cutting you off as you nearly walked straight into her.

“I have class,” you stated dryly.

“You won’t last, you know,” Marlene started, “once the shiny new toy gets played with a few times, they’ll get bored and throw it away.”

“What’s your problem?” you said, surprising yourself with your confrontation. Being in this group was making you more confident in yourself.

“Don’t have one,” Marlene said, “just trying to get the scoop, since I was so rudely left out.”

“I have class,” you repeated.

“Oh, don’t let me stop you, but I should warn you that those boys don’t tend to stick with the good girls.”

“That’s too bad, since I’m already in the group,” you fought back, sick of her insults.

“For now,” Marlene said, smiling triumphantly and she stepped to the side.

You shot her a look before walking off.

────── ☾ ──────

When you’d confided in Dorcas how Marlene had been treating you, you didn’t anticipate that she would become quite so enraged, pulling you around and collecting all the members of your group until you were all together.

Fuming, Dorcas finally took a seat.

“What’s goin’ on?” James asked.

“A good ol’ Dorcas summoning,” Evan joked.

Dorcas sat in silence, nostrils flaring as she stared at Marlene.

“Well?” Marlene said, legs and arms crossed, “what is it?”

“Have you been threatening Y/N?”

Marlene immediately threw her hands up. “What am I, on trial? Fuck this.”

She began to stand, but Sirius stood as well. “Sit down,” he said, and she sighed, but did as she was told.

You were taken aback by how serious he was being. You hasn’t even told him what Marlene said to you.

“I didn’t threaten her,” Marlene said.

“So you didn’t tell her she’s a toy we’ll all get bored of playing with?”

The heads in the room all turned to Marlene. “Why does it matter? If she can’t handle being part of this, then she shouldn’t be a part of it.”

“You can’t just bully her out because you’re jealous.”

“Jealous of what, Dorcas? Hm? The fact she’s in the goodie two-shoes house?”

“Guys,” you tried to chime in, but it got lost in the tension.

“Oh, you know what,” Dorcas spat.

Dorcas and Marlene both stood, their voices growing louder and louder.

“No, I don’t. Tell me Dorcas, what the fuck do I have to be jealous of? Some young little girl who doesn’t even know how to fuck?”

“Guys,” you tried again.

“Why did you even come back, Marlene?” Dorcas retaliated.

“What, you didn’t miss me?”

“One day you’re my best friend, and the next you just leave a note like ‘oh! I can’t do it anymore and I’m transferring to America, bye!’ and I’m just supposed to jump up and down in joy when you suddenly decide we’re worthy enough to have you back?”

Marlene plopped back into her chair. “This is bullshit, I’m not doing this. Did you really call us all here just to yell at me in front of everyone?”

“No,” Dorcas said, “I called us all here to vote you out.”

The room stilled for a moment before Marlene scoffed. “To vote me out?”

“Guys!” you finally yelled, and it caught their attention, “can we please calm down?”

“You wanna vote me out? Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m not kidding you.”

Marlene and Dorcas stared at each other, intensity in their eyes as Remus finally tried to calm the situation down.

“Marlene, things are a little different than when you were here before,” Remus said, “I think it’s only fair that you’re either okay with that, or you’re out.”

“Oh yeah?” Marlene replied, “and what’s different? Besides the Huffle-slut.”

You threw your hands in the air, exhausted of Marlene’s inexplicable hatred toward you.

“Well, for starters, are you over him?” Remus asked.

Marlene stared at Remus blankly, almost as if she was trying to think her way out of answering, but couldn’t.

You looked around the room, but everyone was too focused on Marlene’s answer to provide you with any explanation. You couldn’t help but feel left out of something.

“Yeah,” Marlene shrugged.

“I don’t believe you,” Dorcas said.

“Go cry about it,” Marlene spat.

“Stop, fuckin’ hell,” Remus sighed, “are you or are you not okay with Y/N being here?”

“Clearly I’m not, mom.”

Remus huffed and stood up. “Well, fuck this, I’m done trying,” he said, walking over to the ashtray and flicking embers off the butt of his cigarette.

The room stilled, everyone unsure of what to do.

“You guys shouldn’t have agreed on anyone new without me,” Marlene spoke up.

“Bloody hell, you were gone, you fucking idiot,” Dorcas said, “and we had no reason to think you were coming back. What were we gonna do, send an owl? Fuck off.”

“Can she even fuck?”

“Give it a rest, Marlene,” Sirius spoke up.

“No, I wanna know. Can you fuck?” she said, turning to you.

Your eyes widened. “I’m not dignifying that with an answer,” you stated.

“Prove it.”

“Prove what?”

“Prove that you can fuck like a big girl.”

You looked around the group in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“Pick someone here, and prove it.”

“Marlene, come on, shut the fuck u-“

Sirius was cut off by Marlene pressing on, “pick someone and let’s get on with it, Hufflepuff.”

A feeling shot straight to your core at the thought of having to fuck someone in front of the entire group. You were too worked up.

You looked up at Remus, who had been your obsession and your safe person thus far, and waited to see his expression. Marlene noticed your attention turn to him.

“Remus it is,” she said, moving the coffee table away from the center of the room, “hurry up. Let’s go.”

“I don’t think-“ Remus started.

“You know what? Fuck you, Marlene,” Dorcas said, rushing over to you.

Dorcas leaned down and kissed you hard, the kiss full of intensity and fire and anger. You were startled, but quickly started to kiss her back. This was your group, not hers anymore. If she wanted to see you fuck, she’d get a good show before she was kicked out.

Dorcas dropped to her knees in front of you. She propped one of your legs up against the armrest on the side of the couch.

Dorcas propped up your other leg and pushed it toward James, who was sitting right next to you. “Hold her, will ya?” Dorcas said.

James nodded, taking hold of your right leg.

With your legs widespread, your skirt bunched up at your waist.

“You consent?” Dorcas asked.

You nodded your head yes.

Dorcas wasted no time pushing your underwear to the side and diving in, flattening her tongue against you and moving up and down.

Your head tilted backward as you sighed, your eyes squeezed shut as you tried not to focus on the several pairs of eyes on you. You leaned onto James, trying to somewhat hide your face in his neck,

Dorcas was someone you’d always assumed would be rough in the bedroom, and she was angry and worked up over the Marlene situation, however, you were surprised by how soft and gentle she was being. You knew it was intentional for you.

She was in no rush, moving her tongue slowly against you. You thought of something Lily had told you previously: Girls give better head because they know what truly feels good.

You whimpered each time Dorcas swirled her tongue particularly well, and James lightly rubbed his thumb across your leg, comforting you on top of the pleasure.

“Jeez,” Evan spoke from across the room.

Marlene slouched in her chair in a huff, her eyes fixed on everyone else in the room, trying to gage their reactions to you.

You let out a light squeal when Dorcas began to trace around your hole with her finger, alerting you of an oncoming intrusion.

She slowly slipped one finger inside of you, again in no rush as you softly moaned at the sensation. Her mouth never detached from you as she began to pump her finger in and out of you.

James stroked your thigh with his fingers as he watched Dorcas eat you out, occasionally kissing the top of your head to remind you that you were okay. He also just wanted the validation of feeling included. James liked to feel needed.

Everyone was watching intently, turned on by the sight in front of them. Marlene was focused on everyone else, and Sirius took a drag of his cigarette every time James leaned in to kiss your head.

“Shit, I-“

You spoke so low that only James could hear it. James tapped Dorcas to warn her that you were about to come, and instead of following through, she stood up and backed away from you.

You instinctively closed your legs, remaining in your comfortable position against James.

“That wasn’t shit,” Marlene said, “you really want that in here?”

“Who said we were done?” Dorcas spat back.

Dorcas grabbed Remus’s arm and pulled him over to the empty space on the rug where the coffee table used to be.

Remus looked at Dorcas expectantly, but she just raised her eyebrows and gestured toward the floor.

Remus threw his hands up. “Yeah, it’s a nice rug.”

Dorcas sighed and pushed his shoulders until he was kneeling on the floor.

“You could have just fuckin’ told me where you wanted me, damn,” Remus said.

“Y/N?”

You were still slouched into James, trying to calm your breathing despite your core being on fire from the abrupt stop to your pleasure. “Mhm,” you vocalized.

When you didn’t receive an answer, you forced your eyes open to see the entire room staring at you.

“Think you’re needed down there, angel,” James whispered to you, nodding toward Remus.

You took a deep breath. You dropped to your knees and sat in front of Remus. He leaned in to your ear and whispered, “I’m gonna take care of you, baby.”

He kissed your cheek before he adjusted himself to a lay, sprawled out against the rug and waiting for you to sit on him.

You adjusted your legs around his waist, grateful Dorcas didn’t take your skirt fully off. You were still clothed and modest to the group.

“Remus doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” Marlene said.

“Don’t you speak for me, I’m doing just fine down here,” Remus said, placing his hands behind his head as he watched you in amusement.

You blindly undid Remus’s belt, pulling it off of him as you began to unbutton his jeans. Remus pushed his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his already hard cock.

You began to pull your underwear to the side, but a voice stopped you.

“No no,” Marlene said, “fuckin’ amateur. Don’t you know Remus needs a little something first?”

You knew she was just messing with you and trying to prove that she knew everyone better than you, but you felt like you knew Remus above everyone in the room.

But, if she wanted a show, you’d give her a show.

You slowly backed up on your knees until you were between Remus’s legs. You remained on your knees, allowing your ass to stick upward and your skirt to fall onto your back, exposing your backside, as your hands found Remus’s cock.

You looked to Lily, who had taught you the little you knew so far, and she nodded at you so as to say “you got this.” Her approving nod gave you confidence.

You licked a stripe from the base of Remus’s cock to the tip before sinking down on the entire length. Remus was large, too large to fit entirely in your mouth without deepthroating, but you didn’t care. You were running on pure lust, anger, and adrenaline.

Remus was looking down at you, but when his tip hit the back of your throat, he slammed his head back against the floor, a satisfied moan leaving his lips.

You pulled away almost entirely before sinking back down again, deepthroating him once more.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Remus sighed.

You swallowed in uncomfortability at the feeling of his cock in your throat, which only added to his pleasure.

“Bloody hell, you can see him in your throat, Y/N,” Lily said, “do that again.”

You looked up at Remus, who looked down to see what Lily was talking about. You swallowed again, and Remus could see the slight bulge of his cock in the top of your throat.

“Holy fuck.”

You pulled away and began to suck him normally, maintaining a steady rhythm. You couldn’t taste all of him without deepthroating, so you used your hand to account for the base of his length.

You looked up at Marlene, who scoffed and looked away as you kept your gaze on her, evidently showing her your confidence and ability as you sucked off Remus.

Marlene looked around the room and saw everyone’s eyes trained on you. Sirius adjusted his position in his seat, and James was nearly salivating.

“Okay, enough, get to it then,” Marlene said.

You pulled off of Remus, making a show of wiping your lower lip as you moved upward until you were sitting on top of Remus.

His hands found your waist without hesitation. He was lost in pleasure and lust, eager to feel you again.

You pushed your underwear to the side and held onto Remus’s length with one hand, positioning it at your entrance.

You slowly sank down, watching Remus’s face for any uncomfortability, but he was immediately just to happy to be inside of you that he pushed his hips up.

You gasped at the sudden feeling of a thrust, and Remus snapped open his eyes and looked up at you.

“You okay?”

You leaned down and kissed Remus. “Fuck me, Rem.”

Remus used one hand to hold your hair as he pulled you back into a kiss, and the other hand gripped your waist to hold you in place as he began to fuck up into you.

You dropped your head into the crook of his neck, and he held your head there, happy to have a few moments where he was the only one who could hear your small whimpers and whines. James was right: he did enjoy being special to you.

Dorcas knelt beside your bodies and wrapped her fingers in your hair, pulling back until you were seated up. She tugged at the bottom of your shirt, pulling it up over your head. She then unclasped your bra and pulled the straps off of your arms.

She hungrily kissed you, keeping you sat up so that your body was on full display for everyone in the room.

She kissed down from your neck to your breasts, sucking on your nipple as you threw your head back in pleasure.

You felt a sudden pang of embarrassment, but it was quickly gone as you looked to your right. Alecto was pressing her legs together for dear life, Evan was holding a pillow between his legs, and Sirius was staring you dead in the eyes.

You stared back for a moment, matching his eye contact. He coughed on cigarette smoke, something he never did as a veteran smoker, but continued to look back at you.

Your attention was pulled by Dorcas, who kissed you again as Remus’s thrusts grew harder and faster.

You moaned out as you threw your head back, trying to lift your hips in rhythm with Remus, but he was thrusting a little too fast for you.

Dorcas noticed, and she crawled behind you, kneeling on the floor as she held your body against hers, ensuring you remained seated upward and on display.

She kissed the side of your neck, sucking on a sweet spot as you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to get lost in the pleasure. You tried not to think about Marlene or the voyeurism, but just to be present in the moments of pleasure.

Your moans grew higher in pitch until you began to clench around Remus.

“Fuck, Remus, I- shit, I can’t-“

“No fucking cop outs,” Marlene said.

Embarrassment flooded your cheeks. Saying it was hard. “I- I’m-“

“Merlin, Y/N, please say it,” Remus spoke through erratic breaths below you.

You took a deep breathe. “I- I’m gonna come, Remmy, please-“

Remus snapped his hips hard, hitting your sweet spot and causing you to come with just a few more thrusts. Dorcas held you through your high, causing your legs to shake and your body to nearly convulse from the intensity as Remus came in succession.

You blinked your eyes open, trying to catch your breath as Dorcas kissed your temple and stood up.

You wiped sweat from your forehead and looked down at Remus, who put his hands behind his head again and smiled up at you.

“Stay there as long as you like.”

You giggled and leaned down to kiss Remus as Dorcas gave you back your shirt.

With Remus still in you, you pulled your shirt over your head and looked at Marlene, eyebrows raised.

“Good enough for you?” you grinned.

Marlene shrugged, clearly bothered. “Nothing I couldn’t do better.”

“I beg to differ,” Remus sighed, “not a lot could top that.”

You leaned down and kissed Remus before carefully lifting your hips and sitting back on the floor. You knew better than to try to stand.

Remus took a moment before covering himself back up, and you both sat on the floor with your backs against the couch. No one said anything.

“Didn’t think you could get any hotter, but fuck was I wrong,” Evan said.

“Are you always the horniest one in the room?” you joked.

“I don’t know, is he?” Marlene said, turning toward Sirius.

Sirius flicked embers into an ashtray. “Meaning?”

Marlene’s voice was not as confident as before. “You seemed to enjoy the show.”

“Oh, come on, Marlene, don’t start shit right now. You got what you wanted, you saw her fuck. You in or out?”

Marlene looked around the room, and everyone was focused on her. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees.

“I’m already in. I never left the group,” she said dryly.

“One more shot,” Remus said, and Dorcas tried to speak up in protest, but Remus shushed her. “One more shot, but if you pull any shit, you’re out.”

Dorcas threw her hands in the air. “You come and suddenly you’re in a nice mood?”

“Y/N?” Remus said, looking to you, “that seem fair?”

You looked up at Marlene. She was clearly insecure about someone in this group, and if she left right now, you’d never find out who. Regardless, you didn’t feel like drama. If she stayed, whatever.

“Whatever.”

────── ☾ ──────

taglist: @alixmarauders @riddlemenottsluttyslytherin @twilightlover2007 @hcqwxrtss123 @queerndepressed @prongs-wolfstar-marauders @flowersarcute @remussbitch @ch4rlotte35 @alwaysanundertone @urfavhanna @donovorita28 @randomcreator-09 @joey-hoey @chronically-sh-ana @pinksmellslikelove @blvebanisters @aaronhotchswife @roseblack1864 @chaevvonders @champomiel @the-flaminhos @ilovesugurugeto69 @sammyreid @treefairy-28 @aza-writes @made-for-oliverwood @kaileygirl444 @livslifeonline @hi172826 @greyeyedmockingbird @prettylittlewrites @st0rmzi3 @butterchicken06 @yarri0 @camslut7 @ilovewhiteboysforlife @bibblemiluvr @moonyxstars @charlxzagzy @maxinehufflepuffprincess @yejiswifex @maverickgalathynius @bmyva1entine

[meazalykov]

everybody moved on, but I stayed there

barcelona femeni x bayern frauen x reader

summary: its hard to adjust when you thought your old life would be your only life

warnings: angst

the call came early in the morning, the kind of call you had always dreaded but never truly believed would come. 

your agent’s voice on the other end of the line was steady, professional, but it carried a weight that crushed you the moment they spoke.  

“barcelona isn’t offering a renewal,” they said, their tone careful, like they knew the devastation these words would bring.  

you sat in your small apartment, the sunlight streaming through the window, mocking you with its warmth. the city outside was alive as always, the sound of bustling streets filling the background, but inside, you felt frozen. 

“what do you mean?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.  

“they’re making some tough financial decisions,” your agent explained, trying to soften the blow. 

“it’s not about your performance. you’ve been phenomenal, but they’re restructuring. you know how it is... fighting for spots in the best team in the world. unfortunately, they’ve decided to let your contract expire.”  

the words hit you like a punch to the gut. you had spent three years at barcelona, pouring your heart and soul into everything. you had thought this was your forever, the club you would retire at, the city you would grow old in.  

“so, that’s it?” you said after a long silence. 

“i’m just... done here?”  

your agent hesitated, then sighed. 

“i know this is hard, but listen. you’re one of the best defenders in the world. clubs are already reaching out, and we have options. lyon, chelsea, orlando, bayern munich—they’re all interested. they’re practically throwing themselves at the chance to sign you.”  

you didn’t respond. you couldn’t. the idea of leaving barcelona, leaving everything you had built here, felt impossible.  

“y/n?” your agent’s voice broke through your haze. 

“i know this is tough, but you need to think about your next step. you have a bright future ahead of you. you can be at a club that actually wants to keep you.”  

you hung up soon after, unable to stomach the conversation any longer. the rest of the day passed in a blur. you avoided your teammates, knowing the questions and the pitying looks they would give you.

the decision wasn’t even yours to make, but the weight of it pressed down on you like it was. every day at training, you felt it in the pit of your stomach, an ache that wouldn’t go away. you tried to mask it—forcing a smile here and there, going through the motions during drills—but it didn’t take long for your teammates to notice.  

you looked down at your training kits and game kits everyday since that phone call, knowing this would be your final weeks wearing the barcelona name. 

“are you okay?” alexia asked one afternoon after practice, her voice gentle. she had always been perceptive, her captain’s instincts sharp. you nodded quickly, brushing her off with a vague excuse about being tired. 

she didn’t press, but her eyes lingered on you, worried.  

by the time the news had fully sunk in, you could hardly meet anyone’s gaze. every touch of the ball, every shared laugh in the locker room, felt like another goodbye you weren’t ready to say.  

you hadn’t been yourself on the pitch, your passes lacking their usual precision, your tackles hesitant. when the session ended, everyone filed into the dressing room, chatting and laughing as always, but you stayed silent, your head down as you untied your boots.  

keira, sitting next to you, noticed your distant expression. she nudged your shoulder lightly. 

“what’s up with you today? you’ve been... off.”  

you froze, the question catching you off guard. for a moment, you thought about brushing it off again, but something about the concern in her voice broke the wall you’d been holding up for weeks. your hands trembled as you placed your boots down, and before you could stop it, tears welled up in your eyes.  

the room fell silent as everyone noticed. keira leaned closer, her voice soft. 

“y/n? what’s wrong?”  

you took a shaky breath, your voice breaking as you finally spoke. “i have to leave,” you said, the words feeling like shards of glass in your throat. 

“barcelona isn’t renewing my contract.”  

gasps echoed around the room, followed by an overwhelming silence. the weight of your confession seemed to crush the air out of the space.  

“what do you mean they’re not renewing your contract?” aitana asked, her voice sharp with disbelief.  

“i thought you’d be here forever,” vicky added, her brow furrowed.  

you shook your head, wiping at your face as the tears kept falling. 

“i thought so too. but... they said it’s financial. they can’t offer me a new deal. it’s not up to me.”  

“no,” mariona said quietly, standing up and crossing the room to sit beside you. her arm wrapped around your shoulders as she pulled you close. 

“this can’t be happening.”  

you leaned into her, the comfort of her presence grounding you as sobs shook your body. mariona held you tightly, her own voice breaking as she whispered, 

“i understand. i know what it’s like. i’m leaving too, remember? i thought this was my forever club, just like you. sometimes, things don’t work out the way we want them to. you’ll be okay, nina.”  

the rest of the team sat in stunned silence, the reality sinking in. salma finally spoke, her voice steady but full of emotion. 

“this isn’t fair. you've tried your hardest for this team. we’ve all seen it.”  

“it’s not fair,” you agreed, your voice barely audible. 

“but it’s happening. and i have to accept it, sal.”  

mapi, sitting across from you, shook her head. 

“accept it? no, we’re not accepting this. you’re one of us. no matter where you go, you’ll always be one of us.”  

their words brought a fresh wave of tears, but this time, they weren’t entirely from sadness. amidst the heartbreak, there was comfort in knowing how much you meant to them.  

mariona squeezed your shoulder, her voice warm despite the sadness in her eyes.

“wherever you go, they’re lucky to have you. it’s okay to be upset right now. we’re upset too, you’ll grow to love your new club just as much as you love us.”  

you nodded, taking a deep breath as you tried to steady yourself. “i’m going to miss all of you so much,” you said, your voice trembling.  

“we’re going to miss you too,” keira said softly, and a murmur of agreement swept through the room.  

the rest of the evening passed in a haze of hugs, tears, and promises to stay in touch. mariona stayed by your side the entire time, her presence a constant source of comfort. as someone who was also leaving, she understood your pain in a way no one else could.  

when you finally left the locker room that night, the reality of your departure felt a little less heavy. your teammates’ love and support reminded you that even though you were leaving barcelona, you would always carry a part of it with you.

alexia tried to talk to you after everyone left, her voice soft.  

“we’ll miss you,” she said, her eyes searching yours for any sign of emotion.  

you forced a smile, nodding as your throat tightened. “i’ll miss you too.” but even as you said the words, it didn’t feel real.  

packing up your life in barcelona was harder than you expected. every corner of your apartment, every street you walked, every café you passed, was filled with memories. leaving felt like abandoning a part of yourself.  

when the offer from bayern munich came, you accepted it with a numb sense of duty. it wasn’t excitement that drove your decision, but necessity. you couldn’t stay in barcelona, and bayern seemed like the best option.  

the first few weeks in munich were strange. the city was beautiful, the people were welcoming, but it didn’t feel like home. 

your new teammates were kind, going out of their way to include you in team dinners and outings. georgia took you out for coffee, and sydney invited you over for dinner. they made an effort, but no matter how hard they tried, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being an outsider.  

“how are you settling in?” klara asked one evening after training. the two of you were stretching on the pitch as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the stadium.  

you shrugged, avoiding her gaze. 

“it’s... fine.”  

klara gave you a sympathetic look. 

“it’ll feel like home eventually. i know how you feel.. just give it time.”  

you nodded, but deep down, you weren’t so sure.  

despite your inner turmoil, your performance on the pitch was stellar. you threw yourself into training, determined to prove that you belonged. the bayern fans quickly grew to love you, chanting your name in the stands during every match.

even as you celebrated victories with your new team, a part of you longed for the camaraderie you had at barcelona.  

when you heard about barcelona’s successes, you felt a pang of jealousy. not because you wanted them to fail, but because you wished you were still a part of it.  

“do you ever talk to them?” georgia asked one day as the two of you sat in the locker room after a match.  

“sometimes,” you admitted, scrolling through your phone. your former teammates still messaged you, names like esmee, alexia, and keira lighting up your screen with texts like, “we miss you,” and “come visit soon.” but it wasn’t the same.  

months passed, and slowly, you began to find your footing in munich. 

when bayern beat real madrid in the champions league quarterfinals, you felt a surge of happiness you hadn’t felt in a long time. the way the team celebrated in the locker room reminded you of the joy you used to feel at barcelona after an el clasico game against the same time you played tonight. 

for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe you could be happy here.  

then, the semifinal draw happened. bayern munich vs. barcelona. 

your stomach twisted when you saw it. the thought of facing your old team felt like a cruel twist of fate.  

“are you ready for this?” sydney asked as the team prepared for the first leg in munich.  

“i don’t know,” you admitted.  

the match was intense. you found yourself marking aitana, the two of you locked in a fierce battle throughout the game. every time she tried to break through, you were there, blocking her path. 

by the end of the match, it was 1-1, with goals from alexia and pernille.  

“good game,” alexia said afterward as the two of you crossed paths in the tunnel. there was a flicker of something in her eyes—pride, maybe? or nostalgia? you couldn’t tell.  

“thanks,” you replied, your voice tight.  

the second leg in barcelona felt different. walking into the stadium, you expected to feel a sense of loss, but instead, you felt... content. 

this was your old home, but it didn’t define you anymore.  

however, your heart thumped in your chest, not from nerves—at least, that’s what you told yourself—but from the weight of what this game meant. the second leg of the champions league semifinal. bayern munich vs. barcelona. your old club vs. your new club.  

giulia adjusted her captain’s armband slightly beside you as your hands steady on your mascot’s shoulders.. despite the whirlwind of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. the kid mascot looked up at you with her wide eyes, clutching your hand tightly. 

you smiled down at the young girl, offering a small squeeze of reassurance, even though you could have used some yourself.  

the players began walking out, the bright lights of the stadium flooding your vision as the roar of the crowd hit you like a tidal wave. it was deafening. thousands of voices chanting, cheering, and shouting in a language that used to feel like your own.  

you stepped onto the pitch, the familiar sight of camp nou stretching out before you. the stands were a sea of red and blue. 

for a moment, you felt a flicker of encouragement, a warmth in your chest. this was barcelona—this was home.  

wait a minute??? it's not. you cringed as reality hit, sharp and unforgiving. the cheers weren’t for you. not anymore. they were for the players in blaugrana, for the badge you no longer wore. 

you were bayern now. the crowd that once lifted you, chanted your name, celebrated your every move—they were now cheering against you.  

the realization stung more than you wanted to admit. your steps faltered slightly as you made your way to the center of the pitch, your head held high despite the ache in your heart.  

yet, amidst the overwhelming roar of the home fans, another sound reached your ears. it was faint at first, but it grew louder the more you focused on it. the bayern munich away fans, tucked into a corner of the massive stadium, were cheering for your team. 

their voices didn’t carry the same weight in numbers, but there was something in their tone—raw, passionate, unwavering—that hit you differently.  

they went through the lineup and gave the girls name chants. after pernille, they started chanting your name. your name.  

the sound of their voices cut through the noise of the home crowd, filling you with a strange sense of belonging. they weren’t just cheering for bayern; they were cheering for you.  

you straightened your posture, a quiet resolve settling over you. 

the kid beside you tugged at your hand, pulling your attention back. you smiled down at them again, this time with a bit more confidence.  

the anthem began playing, and you sang along quietly, your voice steady as the camera panned across the line of players. the stadium was exciting, the tension building as kickoff loomed.  

as the anthem ended and the players began to move into position, you took one last glance at the crowd. the cheers for barcelona still rang loud and proud, but the bayern fans’ voices echoed in your ears, grounding you in the moment.  

you were here for them now. and for yourself.  

the whistle blew, and the game began.

this game was one of the best of your career. you cleared shots from ewa, stopped aitana in her tracks, and made a crucial save against kika nazareth-- a forward you never got to play with. 

when you took a corner kick in the 89th minute, you didn’t expect anything to come of it. but the ball curved perfectly, slipping past cata and into the net.  

the stadium fell silent for a moment before erupting into german chaos. your jaw dropped as you covered your mouth in disbelief. your teammates swarmed you, their joy infectious.  

however, you didn’t celebrate. you couldn’t. out of respect for the club that gave you everything, you simply walked back to your position, your head held high.  

after the final whistle blew, bayern advanced to the final with a 3-1 aggregate score. as you walked off the pitch, you avoided looking at your former teammates. you were afraid of what you might see in their eyes—anger, disappointment, betrayal.  

later that night, as you lay in bed, your phone buzzed with a message from alexia. 

“we are proud of you. good luck in the final :)”  

it took you a moment to process her words. maybe they didn’t hate you after all.  

as bayern prepared for the champions league final against manchester city, you felt lighter. the weight of barcelona no longer pressed down on you like it used to. 

you would always cherish your time there, but you were starting to realize that your future was here, with bayern.  

and for the first time, you were okay with that.  

masterlist

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 7.4k (shorter chap woop) tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

Year: Early 2018

He hasn’t been answering your phone calls. Or your texts. A growing sense of anxiety and worry forms in your gut. You've trained yourself to push down the more insidious thoughts that threaten your already deteriorating relationship. It’s been a long day for you. From work, to your annoying mother, and now to your M.I.A boyfriend. You wanted to relax at home with a movie and soothing music, maybe even food. However, it’s been hard to eat for the past few weeks. 

The last place you wanted to be was at some house party with snobby people who probably never have realized the true meaning of a dollar. The music is loud and the blue lights do nothing but further annoy you, reminding you of just how much you hate parties. Pushing through the throngs of people, either too drunk to high to give your rudeness a huff. 

It’s not hard to spot him, but the sight makes you dig your nails into your palms. Feeling bile rise in your throat when a girl—one you’ve never seen before—is getting too close and personal with your man. And worst of all? He’s not even pushing her away. He’s obviously drunk. Still, you assumed he would have that much decency to push back flirting advances from random girls. He always did.  

But things have been changing recently, slowly but surely. Ever since that happened. 

Your feet work quickly, forcing yourself to stay determined and not break down and cry right now. You’ve been doing too much of that. “Satoru.” You call out, voice loud and firm enough that he swivels his head to meet your eyes on just the first try. The girl does so also, head tilting in a scrutinizing way that you hate. “Are you drunk?”

The tint on his cheeks is proof enough. But so is his lazy grin. “What do you think?”

The girl giggles, leaning into your boyfriend’s arm. Watching her do so sends a wave of fury down your spine. You would have stepped in if it weren’t for Satoru finally being a decent man and pulling away from her. “Sorry, you gotta go.”

“Excuse me?” The girl huffs, scowling in disgust. “For what? I thought we were having a good time.”

So, they were together the whole night, huh? They probably would have stayed together if you didn’t make an appearance. What if they would have taken things further? What if Satoru imitated something? You can already feel the familiar tingle at the back of your throat, turning around and heading back for the door. He follows, grabbing your arm in an attempt to stop you. “Y/N—“

“Don’t.” You grit, yanking your arm away and pushing your way back out to the front of the large house, ignoring some of a drunken couple’s protests as you ruin their make-out session. When you make your way onto the sidewalk, you feel a more insistent tug at your wrist that causes you to face him fully. Meeting his glazed-over eyes with your own teary pair, biting down on your quivering lip. “Why didn’t you answer your phone? Why are you ignoring me?”

He sighs, running a hand down his face when he lets go of you. “I’m not ignoring you, Y/N. I’m sorry, I should have told you I’d be out. But it was last minute.”

A scoff falls from your lips. “Last minute, huh? Is that what you call it? Hanging around some random girl and acting like you don’t have a worried girlfriend waiting for you?”

“Y/N—“

“Did you cheat on me?” You ask, voice cracking. Your tears now flow freely down your face, eyes red. The expression you adorn does nothing but break his heart. He hates seeing you cry, he always has. And the small, sober part of him is cursing at himself for being such a jackass tonight. But the dominant, drunk side wants no part of an argument tonight. 

“No, I didn’t. I’d never.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Y/N.”

“I want you to be a good boyfriend for once!” You croak out, pushing him back by his shoulders. “Y-you know what I’m going through, you know how hard it’s been. And what do you do? You go out and party, you don’t tell me, and I find some random girl all up on you. And then you smiled like it was funny. D-do you know how much you’re hurting me even more, Satoru?” The trembling of your voice pokes at his heartstrings. 

Satoru stares at you, his expression faltering. For a moment, you think you see guilt flicker across his face, but it’s quickly replaced by something colder—defensiveness. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, alright? I was just...blowing off steam.”

“Blowing off steam?” you repeat, your voice rising as fresh anger bubbles in your chest. “You call this blowing off steam? Ignoring me? Letting some girl throw herself all over you? You’re unbelievable.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his movements. “What do you want me to do, Y/N? Stay at home and sulk all the time? I can’t—” He stops himself, biting his lip, but you know what he was going to say. 

“You can’t what, Satoru?” Your voice cracks again, but this time it’s laced with more rage than sorrow. “You can’t deal with me? With everything I’m going through? You promised you’d be there for me. You said we’d get through this together.”

“I am here for you!” he snaps, but the slight slur in his voice takes the edge off his words. “But you’re acting like I can’t breathe without you questioning every little thing I do. I’ve been going through shit too, Y/N.”

You suck in a shaky breath. “That’s not fair,” you whisper, your fists clenching at your sides. “You know it’s not. If I didn’t care—if I didn’t love you—I wouldn’t be here, trying to fix this.”

He exhales heavily, his shoulders slumping. “I didn’t cheat on you, Y/N. I swear I didn’t. But I—” He hesitates, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I don’t know how to handle all of this, okay? It’s a lot.”

Your breath hitches, his words cut deeper than he probably intended. “You think this isn’t a lot for me too?” you ask, your voice trembling. “I’ve been trying so hard, Satoru. To hold on. To be strong. For both of us. But you’re slipping away, and I don’t know how to bring you back. I know how to handle things just as much as you do.”

He looks up then, his blue eyes clearer now, filled with something that looks almost like regret. For a brief second, you think he might apologize—might say the words you so desperately need to hear. But instead, he shakes his head and says, “Maybe we just need some space.”

The world tilts beneath you. His words echo in your mind, louder than the music still blaring from the house behind you. “Space?” you repeat, barely able to say the word. “You want to take a break?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, his voice quiet, almost defeated. “I just...I think we’re both hurting each other more than we’re helping.”

You laugh bitterly, wiping at the tears streaming down your face. “No, Satoru. You’re hurting me. You’re the one who stopped trying. You’re the one who’s giving up.” He flinches at your words, but he doesn’t argue. And somehow, that hurts even more. You shake your head, stepping back from him. “If space is what you want, then fine. But don’t expect me to be here waiting when you figure yourself out.”

You turn and walk away, your heart shattering with every step. This isn’t how you imagined the night would go. It isn’t how you imagined your relationship would go. But as you leave him standing there on the sidewalk, you can’t help but wonder if this was inevitable all along.

The same song begins to play. Because soon,  his arms are wrapping around you before you even know it, shoving his face into the side of your neck. “No, no, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m drunk, okay? Please don’t leave, please. L-let’s just go home, my parents aren’t there. Please, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

And like a broken record, you give in. Because the broken part of you still craves him. His touch, his comforting hugs, his words. His everything. You feel like a puzzle with pieces too big or small to fit, some pieces lost. But with Satoru, he makes them fit. He finds those pieces of you; the ones you can’t find yourself. In a way, you know things are failing and falling apart. 

But you’re laying back in his bed, feeling the constant vibration of your phone. Texts from your mother and you have no doubt she’s blowing up your phone about the way you snuck out and demanding to know where you are. It’s interesting, you’re twenty-one but she treats you like a kid. All because you still live with her. 

Your heart feels heavy, your stomach twisting with nausea and you’re not even the drunk one. His hands hold your teary cheeks, meeting your gaze with watery ones of his own. Combined tears wet his pillow until there’s no more to give out. He’s been crying with you, but sometimes it feels fake. 

“Did you cheat on me?” You ask again, whispering in a shaky tone. 

His lips purse and he shakes his head. “…no, I didn’t. I told you, I’d never.”

You search his face, looking for cracks in the foundation of his words. His sorrowful eyes, flushed cheeks, and trembling hands—all of it feels sincere, but it doesn’t feel like enough. Not so much anymore. “You’re sure?” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. 

“I’m sure,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “I swear to you, Y/N. I’d never do that to you. Never.” His thumb brushes away a stray tear on your cheek, and for a moment, the warmth of his touch almost convinces you.

Almost.

You close your eyes, exhaling shakily as his hands cradle your face. You want to believe him. You need to believe him. But the doubt lingers like a shadow, clawing at the edges of your mind. “Then why do I feel like I’m losing you?” you ask, your voice breaking.

Satoru flinches, his hands momentarily faltering before steadying again. “You’re not losing me,” he says quickly, almost desperately. “I know I’ve been...different lately, but it’s not because I don’t care. I just—” He pauses, his gaze dropping as if searching for the right words. “I don’t know how to handle this, Y/N. I don’t know how to be what you need right now. There’s so much and I…” his voice trails off, fearing he’s saying too much and it’ll only make you feel worse. Make himself feel worse. 

Your chest tightens, his confession cutting deeper than you expected. “I don’t need you to have all the answers, Satoru. I just need you to try. To be honest with me. To stop shutting me out. You…you’re the only one—you’re all I have right now.”

“I’m trying,” he insists, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “I swear I’m trying. But it feels like...like no matter what I do, it’s not enough. And I hate it. I hate that I’m hurting you.”

The rawness in his voice pulls at something in you, making it harder to keep the walls around your heart intact. You open your eyes, meeting his gaze. For a moment, the vulnerability in his expression mirrors your own. “I don’t want to lose you, Satoru,” you say softly. “But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep feeling like I’m the only one fighting for us.”

“You’re not,” he whispers, his hands tightening slightly on your face as if afraid you’ll slip away. “You’re not, Y/N. I know I’ve messed up, but I’ll do better. I promise. Just...don’t give up on me. Please.”

The plea in his voice, the tears in his eyes—they’re enough to make the broken pieces of your heart shift, trying to fit back together even if they don’t quite align. Against your better judgment, you nod, letting out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you whisper. “But this is your last chance, Satoru. I mean it.”

“I know,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I won’t mess this up. I promise.” But Satoru isn’t the best at promises. He’s only good at making them for others, not keeping them for himself. 

As he pulls you into his arms, holding you as if you might vanish, you can’t help but wonder how many more promises you’ll let him break before there’s nothing left of you to give. But for now, you let yourself sink into his embrace, hoping—maybe foolishly—that this time will be different. Because he’s all you have. All you know. He knows you inside and out—the way your voice wavers when you’re holding back tears, the way your hands fidget when you’re nervous, the way you laugh like it’s the only thing keeping you from breaking. And you know him just as deeply. Every freckle on his skin, every scar that tells a story, every mole you’ve discovered in moments of intimacy. You’ve memorized him like a favorite book, reading him over and over until the lines blur but still feel familiar.

You two are like each other’s canvases—painted with touches, kisses, and shared memories, even the messy ones. Every fight, every tear-streaked night, every whispered “I’m sorry” adds another layer to the masterpiece that is you and him. But lately, it feels like the colors are running, bleeding into one another until the picture is unrecognizable. And you don’t know if you can fix it, or if you even should. Never did you think that things would change so much, and all because of one failed situation. 

What a weak body you have, what a weak person you are. 

He holds you tighter, his fingers threading through your hair as if grounding himself in your presence. “You’re everything to me, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice so quiet you almost don’t catch it. “I know I’ve been a mess, but I swear I’ll fix this. I’ll fix us.”

But his promises feel like paint on a waterlogged canvas—fading, smudged, and far too fragile. Still, you nod, letting the comfort of his warmth lull you into silence. Because no matter how fractured you feel, no matter how much the doubt weighs on your chest, he’s all you have. You can’t handle the thought of facing everything alone now, can’t handle the thought of not having someone to hug you when you burst down in tears. 

You hate the way things are now, but you’ve sunk too deep into him. And him the same. Over time, you feel like he will retract his hold from you before you do so yourself. You can almost feel it coming, one way or another. It’s why you’re holding him tighter, pressing your body deeper into his. Because you know you wouldn’t be able to do it yourself. Awaiting the inevitable hurts so bad. Knowing that no matter what, your end is visible. You can see the finish line just a few yards away. It’s like a race, and you’re letting Satoru win. Envisioning him running his long legs to the checkered line with a smile on his face like he’s happy—relieved. You don’t want to hold him, that’s the last thing you want to do. However, you’re being as selfish as you can be right now. Before every privilege is stripped from you in a cold manner that will leave you shivering for warmth. But his presence is something. And for now, that’s enough to keep you here and sane. 

Little did you know, you'd win that race before he did. You just needed that little push. He's the hare, and you're the tortoise.

You stay in his arms, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek a constant reminder of the closeness you’ve always shared. It feels almost like an illusion, the peace between you both. But underneath, there’s a tension that hasn’t quite loosened, a thread pulled tight between the two of you, holding you close but threatening to snap at the slightest tug. His grip tightens, his fingers threading into your hair, pulling you closer as if trying to fuse your two worlds together. The quiet hum of the room feels almost suffocating now. Your phone continues to buzz with your mother’s increasingly frantic texts, but you can’t bring yourself to care about that right now. Not with Satoru’s breath warm on your neck and his hands gently caressing your skin. Not when it’s easier to let him hold you in this fragile moment of peace. 

You close your eyes, your fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt. The quietness stays for a long moment, But when he speaks, it’s almost a whisper, like he’s afraid of the truth that might spill out.

“I’ll try. I’ll be here for you, Y/N. I swear it.”

You wonder if you can truly believe him this time. If you can let yourself hope that things might really change. But the doubt is a familiar companion, lingering in the shadows, waiting to remind you of the cracks in his promises. Still, for tonight, you let it go. You let yourself sink into him, giving into the small piece of comfort he offers, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.

You wake up in a cold sweat, dried tears staining your cheeks. Your stomach feels sensitive, nails already digging into your palms so hard that the skin is growing red and prickly. Every emotion you felt from that dream—nightmare—whatever it was feels ten times more real. You don’t know why you’re having these weird dreams about something from years ago. 

But it still hurts all the same, nonetheless. 

You still feel hollow, drowned, and ready to pour your heart out into your pillow. But it’s morning and time to get up for bed. Christmas Eve is in three days and you’re just counting down until when you won’t have to go into work.  Going through your routine, getting Koji ready for the day, opening the door for Sana. Leaving your place of solitude, it feels like you barely even lived through this morning. 

The chill of the morning air hits your skin as you step outside, tugging your coat tighter around you. The weight of your dream lingers, like a fog that refuses to lift. You keep telling yourself it was just a dream, just a memory from a time you’ve tried so hard to bury. But it clings to you like a ghost, whispering doubts into your ear, even as you force yourself to move through the motions. you can’t help but glance up at the sky, the gray clouds reflecting the heaviness in your chest. Christmas Eve is in three days, and you can’t wait to take a break from not just work—from everything.

If only escaping your past was as easy as flipping the calendar to a new year.

Satoru texts you around the 2-hour mark that he’ll be going over to your place soon to see Koji and bring the gifts he got. You let Sana know of the change, she replies back with a simple ‘okay!’

You sigh, willing yourself to forget about the drama your life entails, and focus on your work. 

However, another thought is creeping in through the door, and this time—it’s not such a bad one. You feel a fluttering sensation in your gut, holding back a peal of stifled laughter as the memory of last night makes its presence known. After the whole shirt incident, Suguru stayed. He kept his word about not making anything weird, and you two ended with a simple chat and a movie. It felt nice.

Of course, there were hints of lingering peeks, that strange tension tossed up in the air that neither of you fully addressed. But it’s fine, it didn’t mean anything at the end of the day. Although, when it was time for him to leave, you did have a second of hesitation about whether you should hug him or simply say goodbye. He decided for you when he carefully opened his arms up, you followed suit. 

Inhaling his scent felt heavenly. Manly, but also feminine at the same time. An earthly scent that felt like hints of incense. The memory of his embrace lingers like the faintest trace of his cologne, warm and comforting. It wasn’t just the way he held you—it was the way he made you feel. Secure. Understood. Like you weren’t just surviving, but living, even if just for that moment.  

You haven't hugged a man in so long. You forgot how good they hug. 

You shake your head, a small smile pulling at your lips despite yourself. It wasn’t anything. It shouldn’t be anything. Suguru’s always been like that—gentle, kind, and just a little too perceptive for his own good. He knew exactly when to stay and exactly what you needed without you even having to say it. Still, you can’t ignore the way your heartbeat picked up when his arms wrapped around you, the way your cheek brushed against his shoulder, and how your fingers had almost lingered a little too long against his back. It felt natural, but also entirely new. 

Suguru’s presence was so easy, so effortless. It felt like slipping into an old favorite sweater, soft and familiar but with a spark of something you couldn’t quite place. You’d been so wrapped up in keeping everything together, in pushing through every day for Koji’s sake, that you’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be seen.  

You wonder if Satoru holds the same longing you do. 

You shake the thought away as quickly as it comes. Don’t think about him. There’s no point in overthinking any of this.  

“Hello, you must be Koji’s father.” Sana greets Satoru who stands in the doorway. With him, two armfuls of gifts. Even more on the floor next to his feet. 

Simply nodding and looking over her shoulder to see Koji eating his lunch. “And you’re the babysitter.” Without much else, he carefully pushes past her, bringing in the gifts. “Mind getting the rest? Thanks.”

She nods, grabbing what was left on the floor before bringing it in, closing and locking the door. When she turns back around, Koji is in his father’s embrace. She smiles at the scene. “Ms. Y/N told me you’d be coming. He’s been good so far, he’s just eating his lunch now.”

“That’s good to hear,” Satoru replies, pulling away from his son. Doing a quick scan of the place before his eyes land back on the young woman. “How long have you been watching my son again?”

“A couple of years.”

He hums, walking closer to her. “And you’re how old?”

Sana blinks, surprised by the question. "I'm twenty," she says cautiously, her polite smile wavering slightly under his scrutiny.  

Satoru raises an eyebrow, his gaze sharp but unreadable. "Twenty, huh? Pretty young to be taking care of kids."  

“I’ve been babysitting since I was sixteen,” she replies, straightening her posture. “I’m studying early childhood education, so it’s not just a job to me. I care about Koji.”  

His expression softens a fraction, and he glances back at his son, who’s happily munching away at his sandwich. “He does seem to like you,” Satoru admits, his tone less probing now.  

“He’s a great kid,” Sana says warmly. “Very smart, just like his mother.”  

That earns her a faint smile. “Yeah, just like his mother.” He crosses his arms, leaning casually against the counter. “So, Y/N told you I’d be stopping by today?”  

“Yes, she mentioned it when I got here this morning.” 

Satoru nods, tapping his fingers against his forearm thoughtfully. “Good. Thanks for helping out today. I know it’s probably not easy juggling school and babysitting.”  

“It’s manageable,” Sana replies, sensing a subtle change in his demeanor. “Koji makes it worth it.”  

Satoru’s gaze lingers on her for a moment longer before he straightens up. “I’ll take over from here. You can go ahead and clock out early if you want.”  

“Oh, are you sure?”  

“Yeah,” he says, waving her off. “Enjoy the rest of your day. I’ve got this.”  

Sana hesitates briefly, glancing at Koji, who’s still blissfully unaware of the conversation. “Alright then. Have a good evening, Mr. Gojo.”  

As she gathers her things and heads for the door, she feels his eyes on her. It’s not hostile, but it’s assessing. Like he’s trying to gauge something about her. She doesn’t dwell on it, though—whatever it is, it’s not her place to question. “Oh!” She turns around as if she just remembered something. “Ms. Y/N leaves a list. It’s taped to the—”

“I don’t need a list to take care of my son.” He cuts her off smoothly, his one eyebrow raising. “Thanks again, have a good day.”

She falters, once again caught a little off guard. This is her first time meeting him, and while she’s of course seen the articles and comments about the drama surrounding the small family, she has no bias. In fact, she sympathizes greatly with you for going through all this alone. As she’s leaving the apartment, she can’t help the small opinion of Satoru that he’s already given her. 

He’s so intimidating!

After she leaves, Satoru focuses back on his son—this shitty apartment. He hasn’t explicitly voiced his opinions out to you—of course you already know what they are. And as you said before, it’s all you could afford, and Koji’s happy. However, he can’t stop himself from grimacing at the so-called ‘decorations’. This place needs some serious revamping. 

“Hey, buddy?”

Koji looks over, wiping his mouth. “Yes, Papa?”

“When you’re done eating, want to help me with something?” And Koji doesn’t need to be told anymore. He loves helping—especially his mother and father. So he nods excitedly, practically scarfing down the rest of his sandwich. Bubbling with giddiness only a child could have. 

Satoru chuckles at his son’s behavior, heart warming. This is the first time he’s doing something festive with Koji. The bitter part of him tells him that he could’ve had more chances to do so if it weren’t for your cowardness. But he shoves that away, focusing on the jolly joy the holidays can bring. 

Today was more tiring than usual, with the cafe gaining more attention, there’s been rush after rush after rush. You can handle it, but that doesn’t mean it won’t wear you down by the time you clock out. And your day isn’t even done yet. Slugging your way to your front door, lazily opening it with your key. Tossing your coat on the nearby rack, your bag with it. 

“I’m ba—”

You sniffle. One. Twice. 

A pinecone-y scent fills your nostrils. Which is strange because you know you have no candles that house that aroma. Confusion, but wariness takes over your senses. Following the sound of laughter down the hall until you’re standing in the living room. 

The sight you see is more than startling. 

Your eyes dart around in a frenzy, landing on one new thing after the next. The small, simple Christmas tree you’d put up last week? Replaced by a towering, impeccably decorated monstrosity with shimmering lights and a star that looks like it came straight out of a luxury catalog. It barely even fits in the room. Luckily, the small picture ornament of you and Koji is still there. But it looks so out of place.

The garlands you’d strung across the walls? Gone, swapped for lush, sparkling ones adorned with oversized ornaments. Even your modest stockings have been replaced with personalized velvet ones embroidered with gold thread, hanging perfectly above a faux fireplace setup that definitely wasn’t there this morning.

It’s like a winter wonderland exploded in your living room, and you’re not sure whether to laugh or scream.

Koji is sitting on the couch, giggling as Satoru playfully pretends to tangle himself in a string of fairy lights. Your son’s laughter is contagious, but you can’t shake the growing irritation bubbling inside you. When Koji notices you, his eyes brighten even more. Gaping and rushing over to your leg, hugging it. “Mama! Mama! Look what Papa and I did! It’s so pretty and there are so many presents!”

There is. There’s a lot of presents. Practically stacking on top of one another under your refurbished tree. Hidden somewhere in the splurge are the gifts Suguru got for you and Koji. 

Gulping, you feel your throat tighten. You feel nothing but overwhelmed. But in the face of your son, you can’t exactly show that. You force a smile as you ruffle Koji’s hair, trying to push down the irritation clawing its way to the surface. “Wow, it’s… definitely something,” you say, your voice strained but managing to sound somewhat amused for Koji’s sake.

Satoru, now untangled from the lights, looks up from the couch with that boyish grin of his. “Do you love it or do you love it?” he asks, gesturing to the extravagant decor like he’s unveiling a masterpiece. 

You blink at him, incredulous—but still attempting to keep yourself calm.  “What… what happened to the decorations we already had?”

“Oh, those?” He waves a dismissive hand. “Let’s just say they weren’t really up to par. I mean, come on, Y/N. That tree you had? It was like something out of a Charlie Brown Christmas special. I couldn’t let Koji’s holiday spirit suffer like that.”

Your jaw tightens, the forced smile threatening to slip. “So, you just… decided to replace everything? Without asking me?”

He stands, brushing off invisible dust from his jeans as if the weight of his decision is nothing. “You were busy, and I figured you’d appreciate coming home to something nice for once. Besides, look at Koji—he’s thrilled!”

Koji tugs at your sleeve, his wide-eyed excitement piercing through your annoyance. “It’s so cool, Mama! Look at all the shiny ornaments! And Papa let me pick out the star!” Your son runs over to show off a few of the many, many presents he has. Showing extra excitement for the heavier and larger ones. “Papa says it’s magical. I want to have a magical Christmas every time, Mama.”

The words, innocent but heavy, almost make you physically kneel down. You feel your chest tighten, your throat closing up even more. The lump that forms is difficult to swallow down. The implication of Satoru’s and your son's words feels a bit degrading. And you don’t blame it on Koji, he means nothing malicious. But for some reason, being faced with the physical line of difference between you and Satoru, watching your son’s face light up in a way that you’ve never seen before…

It reminds you that your enough has never been enough. Each Christmas, it’s dull. Your Christmases aren’t magical.  Your life isn’t. 

You feel the weight of it all crashing down like the oversized star on the new tree is pressing on your chest. Satoru's extravagance, Koji's innocent excitement, and your own feelings of inadequacy swirl together into a storm you’re barely holding back.  

Your forced smile falters, but you quickly kneel to Koji's level, brushing his hair away from his glowing face. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart,” you say softly, voice trembling but steady enough to reassure him. “I’m glad you had fun with Papa.”  

Koji beams, and for a moment, his joy is a balm to your frayed nerves. “It’s pretty, isn’t it, Mama?”  

You bite the inside of your cheek. “So pretty.” Standing slowly, your hand lingers on Koji’s shoulder. “Really pretty,” you repeat quietly, not committing to anything. You can feel Satoru watching you, his casual demeanor only adding to your irritation. The worst part of it all is that it seems like he genuinely has no idea what he did wrong. 

In hindsight, maybe he didn’t. It wasn’t his intention to make you feel like a shitty mother, but Satoru is good at pointing out the differences in his own ways. 

When Koji bounds back to the pile of gifts, you finally let yourself meet Satoru’s gaze. “You really didn’t think to talk to me about this?”  

His grin fades just a fraction, replaced by a look of confusion. “What’s there to talk about? I wanted to do something special for Koji. And let’s be honest, Y/N—this is special.”  

“It’s not about the decorations, Satoru,” you snap, your voice low but sharp. “It’s about you making decisions without considering how I might feel about it. Again.”  

He tilts his head, the glower returning, though it feels sharper now. “You’re overthinking this. It’s just Christmas decorations, Y/N. Look at Koji—he’s happy. Isn’t that what matters?”  

You clench your fists, the tightness in your chest threatening to spill over into something you can’t control. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t just about the decorations. It’s about you coming in here and acting like everything I do is subpar. Like I’m not enough.”  

The words hang heavy in the air, and for a moment, Satoru’s expression falters. But he recovers quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning against the arm of the couch. “Y/N, no one’s saying that. You’re reading too much into this. I just wanted to make things nice for Koji, that’s all.”  

Your laugh is bitter, and it catches even you off guard. “Right. Because your version of nice is always the right one. I’m just the placeholder until you decide to step in and fix everything, aren’t I?”  

Satoru’s eyes narrow slightly, the playful spark he had with Kojidimming. “That’s not fair.”  

“Isn’t it?” you counter, your voice breaking despite your effort to stay calm. “You swoop in with all your money and your grand gestures, and I’m supposed to just smile and be grateful. But do you even realize how hard I’ve worked to give Koji a Christmas he’ll enjoy? How much I’ve sacrificed just to keep things normal?”  

His silence stings more than any retort could.  

Koji’s laughter in the background feels distant now, muffled by the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. He’s too distracted with the tree, his presents, everything. You inhale deeply, trying to steady yourself, before forcing a calmness you don’t feel.  You won’t fight in front of him. 

“I’m going to get changed,” you mutter, not waiting for a response.  

As you leave the room, Satoru calls after you, his voice softer but no less exasperated. “Y/N, come on. Don’t make this into a bigger deal than it is.”  

But to you, it already feels like a chasm. One that grows wider with every passing second.

You shut your door, leaning against it with your forehead. Breaths coming in short, hands trembling slightly. Biting your quivering lip, you maneuver your body to change into your uniform. All the while, tears are getting on your hands and clothes. Accidentally, you let out a small, broken whimper. 

 Quickly, you place a palm to your mouth, stifling and quieting your soft cries. Once you’re done changing, you fall back onto the bed. Curled up with knees drawn to your chest, as the burden of your own self-consciousness rains down on you. The room feels suffocatingly small, your emotions clawing at your throat, demanding to be let out.

The tears come harder now, soaking into the fabric of your uniform as you press your hands to your face, muffling the quiet sobs. You hate this—how easily Satoru gets under your skin, how he makes you feel insignificant without even trying. You thought you were past this. Past him. But somehow, he always finds a way to remind you of all the ways you’ve fallen short. Or at least, all the ways he makes you feel like you have.

There’s a soft knock on the door.

“Y/N?” His voice is muffled through the wood, quieter than usual as if he’s trying not to disturb you. “Are you okay?”

You don’t answer, biting down on your lip to keep from making another sound.

“Look,” he continues, his tone hesitant. “I know I upset you. I didn’t mean to. Can we just… talk?”

For a moment, you consider staying silent, letting him stew in his own discomfort. But the tension is too thick, and you know Koji is just down the hall. With a shaky breath, you push yourself to your feet, wiping at your face in a futile attempt to erase the evidence of your tears. Wiping your face and straightening your clothes, you open the door. “I have work.” You mutter, expertly enforcing a placid emotion. “Will you watch him?”

Without waiting for a response, you walk past him. But he grabs at your wrist, instinctively you pull away. “Stop, just stop, okay? Let’s not fight. We’re adults, we can talk this out. I don’t mean to make you feel less than, I just wanted to make Koji happy.”

“And do you think he’s not happy with me?” You snap back, looking up at him. Feeling your vision already beginning to blur. “Do you? Do you think he’ll be happy with you? I-Is that it?”

Satoru’s eyes widen slightly at your outburst, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. The air between you feels like it could snap under the weight of everything left unsaid. His hand hovers near his side, as if he wants to reach out again but knows better now. “No,” he says softly, his voice steady but lined with regret. “That’s not what I meant. Koji is happy with you. He loves you more than anything.”

“Then why do you keep acting like what I do isn’t enough?” you whisper, your voice trembling as you maintain eye contact with him. “I’ve been doing this alone, Satoru. Every scraped knee, every fever, every night when he cries because he’s scared of the dark—I’m there. Not you. Me. So don’t you dare come in here, throw your money around, and act like you can just fix everything with some… Christmas wonderland.”

“But you didn’t let me come in sooner, Y/N.” He replies, exasperation in his voice. 

“I know that, and I’m sorry. I know I fucked up…”

“Then stop getting mad at little things.”

Your fists ball up, your expression growing firmer by the second. But so is the need to cry again. He’s right, everything he says is right. It’s your own fault that you’ve been forced to handle everything alone. But, don’t your feelings matter just a little bit in this situation? Is he allowed to just come in and fix up everything you have? What he thinks is a mess, it’s something that holds significance to you. What he thinks is a little thing, it’s a big one in your eyes. 

So while this scenario is blowing up into something bigger, your decorations are something you have control of. You only have control over so many things in your life. 

He exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not trying to take anything away from you, Y/N. I swear. I just… I wanted to give him something special. Something I never had growing up.”

It makes you feel even more guilty. You can’t find it in you to say anything else, turning back around and walking to the living room. “Goodbye, Koji. Mama will see you later.” Giving him a brief hug and kiss, you hurriedly grab your coat and purse, exiting your apartment just as fast as you came. 

Unbeknownst to you, Koji is left staring at the closed door. His head tilting in curiosity, while a frown pulling at the corner of his lips. He looks up at his father when he enters the living room again, the two owning matching guises. “Why’d Mama leave so fast? I wanted to show her the drawing we did.” The white paper in his hands pictures three figures. Each one smiling, the smaller boy in the middle holding hands with his two parents on either side of him. He even drew blue snowflakes. 

There’s a red heart around them with the words My family! at the top. 

Satoru stands there, staring at the door you just closed, feeling the weight of Koji’s innocent question settle on his shoulders. He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he glances down at his son, whose big, curious eyes are filled with disappointment.

“She’s just tired, buddy,” Satoru replies, crouching down to Koji’s level. His tone is softer now, more measured, as he tries to mask the turmoil bubbling under his calm façade. “She’s been working really hard, you know? Grown-up stuff.”

Koji’s frown deepens, his little brows furrowing. “But we worked hard too! We did the tree and the presents and everything!” His tiny hands gesture to the decorated room, his frustration clear. “Mama’s s’posed to be happy.”

Satoru feels his chest tighten at the words. He places a hand on Koji’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “She is happy, Koji. She just… needs some time, that’s all. Grown-ups can be funny like that.”

Koji looks down, fiddling with his fingers before glancing back up. “Is it my fault?”

Satoru’s heart aches at the question, and he immediately shakes his head, pulling Koji into a firm hug. “No, not even a little bit. You didn’t do anything wrong, Koji. Don’t ever think that, okay?”

Koji nods slowly against his father’s shoulder but remains quiet. Satoru pulls back, cupping his son’s face in his hands. “Mama loves you so much, Koji. More than anything in the world. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Okay…” Koji mumbles, still not entirely convinced. He inhaled deeply, then spoke again. “Do…does Mama love you too?”

The question catches him off guard, putting an even bigger weight on Satoru’s shoulders. He should’ve expected it, Koji is a curious kid who still doesn’t completely grasp the complexities of his parents’ relationship. Satoru smiles faintly, kissing Koji’s cheek. “Mama has a lot of love.”

The answer satisfies Koji. For now. 

Satoru ruffles his son’s hair. “How about we finish that drawing? We’ll save it for her when she gets back.”

Koji perks up slightly, nodding. “Okay! But you gotta color inside the lines this time, Papa.”

Satoru chuckles, relieved to see even a small smile return to Koji’s face. “Deal. But only if you promise not to make fun of me if I mess up. I’m sensitive.”

Koji giggles, taking his father’s hand to lead him back to the small table. As they sit down to continue their drawing, Satoru steals a glance at the door again, his smile faltering for just a second.

He’s trying—he really is. But he wonders if it’ll ever be enough. It’s like no matter what he does, you don’t like it; and vice versa. He’s being as understanding and nice as someone in his situation can be. At times, he feels he’s being even too nice to you. He knew things wouldn’t be easy, but he wants to spend time with his son. Make up for all the lost time, and even the littlest moments. It’s almost a little bit unfair of you to throw the fact that he has money and you don’t in his face like that. He didn’t ask to be born rich. Just like you didn’t ask to be born…like that. You’re the adults in this situation, there’s a kid involved. So truly, he wishes he could just have a single conversation with you that doesn’t feel anger-surged or bitter. Of course, it’s hard because of what has happened before, but there’s a time and a place, is there not? 

Whatever. He’s more than happy to color with Koji and do whatever the little boy asks while you have your own moment. Satoru knows best of everyone else you like having space. And while many years have passed and his feelings for you have grown less than savory, he stills wants to respect your wishes after an argument with him.

He can’t help but think the obvious, though. Is it even worth attempting to mend whatever little shards of semblance there is left with you?

Probably not. Because after all, he’s here only for Koji. 

Right?

taglist is now closed

taglist: @celestialforce @theclassbookworm @tbzzluvr @uhenivid @ofkilljoysandslytherins

@sadmonke @bunheadusa @shartnart1 @lady-of-blossoms @itsinherited

@duooy @ari-sa @dakotali @mew4-ever18 @iv-vee

@devils-blackrose @a-girl-with-thoughts @bitchycloudstrawberry @tiffyisme3760 @iheartshopping

@chiara-hotel @uriahs-barn @celloccino @roronoazorosbxtchh @pseudophyllus

@ratedrrrr @m1gota @tojideckmuncher @yigaclvn @sukunaslve

@eiizabeth-torres @cherrythiccums0 @satorustorm @zoeyflower @username23345

@i0313z @gourdlorddgubes @partypoison00 @quinnyundertow @sorilyae

@redzscare @aldebrana @nycmagi @s4ikooo1 @dreaming-lis @gigiiiiislife

@boothillglazer @miss-dior @miakxn @rjreins

[pbaz7]

AGAINST THE TIDE: PART SIX

paige x azzi

word count: 4.7k

A/N: This is just a cute little chapter to show how much their dynamic has grown/changed. There will be a few time jumps after this because we’ll never get anywhere otherwise 😭. I love all the live reactions and comments I’ve been getting, they’re actually hilarious.

—————————————————————————

After spending the night in Paige’s room, the two of them got impossibly closer. When they woke up the next morning, Paige invited Azzi to tag along to her physical therapy session. Azzi of course agreed, and from that moment on, they spent every waking hour together for the rest of the short winter break. Whether it was in rehab, watching movies in Paige’s room, or going out for a sweet treat in the middle of the night at Azzi’s request, they became inseparable.

When they returned to UConn after Christmas, it was the exact same. It was rare to see one without the other. Both of them were sidelined with injuries, which only gave them more excuses to stay close. During games, they sat on the bench together, Paige talking Azzi’s ear off about strategy, stats, and whatever random thoughts crossed her mind. Azzi didn’t mind; she found Paige’s rambling endearing, even when it meant missing part of the game on the court.

Off the bench, they poured themselves into helping the team however they could. They watched hours of film together, analyzing plays and finding ways to improve their teammates’ performance with so many of them sidelined with injuries. Huddled around a laptop in the locker room or sprawled out on the floor of Paige’s dorm, their heads often ended up leaning close enough that their shoulders brushed. Neither pulled away.

Neither of them brought up the new dynamic between them. It was like there was a silent agreement to ignore the feelings simmering just beneath the surface. They told themselves it was easier this way, to focus on recovery and basketball. But the excuses only went so far.

Their stolen glances during film sessions lasted a second too long. The casual touches—Paige nudging Azzi’s knee when she made a good point, or Azzi grabbing Paige’s forearm to drag her somewhere or emphasize her own thoughts—left feelings between both of them. Paige’s heart raced every time Azzi’s hand lingered on hers, while Azzi found herself melting into a puddle by the way Paige’s voice softened when they were alone. A softness she only seemed to have for Azzi.

Still, they stayed in the safe lane of ‘friendship’ burying their feelings beneath layers of banter and shared routines. To them that seemed to work but to anyone else looking at their dynamic it definitely seemed like they were in a relationship. The two of them basically teased and flirted with one another nonstop.

January 2022

Today was no different. They were currently on the road, heading back to Connecticut after taking a quick trip to see Paige’s surgeon for her check-up. The car was quiet except for the hum of the engine and the faint sound of music playing from the speakers. Paige was driving, her hands relaxed on the wheel, and Azzi was trying her best to focus on anything but her.

It wasn’t easy. Azzi wasn’t used to seeing Paige behind the wheel—usually, she was the passenger, sprawled out and carefree. But now that Paige could drive she insisted on doing it every time and Azzi could never stop glancing over at her. The way Paige’s jawline looked when she would clinch it at someone doing something stupid in front of her, the subtle furrow of her brow as she concentrated on the road, or, worst of all, the way her long fingers gripped the steering wheel, knuckles flexing slightly.

Azzi swallowed hard, her thoughts wandering somewhere they absolutely shouldn’t be. She blinked, forcing herself to look straight ahead, but her gaze betrayed her almost immediately, drifting back to the blonde.

Paige caught her. She glanced over, catching Azzi’s lingering stare, and a slow smirk spread across her face. “What?” Paige asked, her voice laced with amusement.

Azzi groaned at being caught, throwing her head back against the seat. “Stop driving like that.”

Paige laughed, the sound warm and teasing as she gave her a quick side glance. “Like what, Azzi?”

Azzi waved her arms in Paige’s direction, clearly flustered. “Like that! You know what you’re doing.”

Paige grinned wider, unable to hide how much she was enjoying this. “I’m literally just driving. You’re the one making it weird.”

Azzi let out a frustrated noise, crossing her arms and slouching slightly in her seat. “No, you’re doing something. I don’t know what, but it’s distracting.”

Paige chuckled, shifting her grip on the wheel—whether to mess with Azzi or just to adjust, Azzi couldn’t tell, but it didn’t help. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but this is how I always drive. Guess you’ll just have to deal with it.”

Azzi shot her a glare but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re so annoying, you know that?”

Paige glanced over briefly, her smirk softening into something more playful. “Yeah, but you clearly like it.”

Azzi huffed, turning her gaze out the window to avoid giving Paige the satisfaction of seeing her flustered. But her resolve didn’t last long. Her eyes betrayed her, flickering back to Paige’s hands on the steering wheel. The way her fingers flexed just slightly, the grip firm and sure—it was ridiculous how something so mundane could have Azzi’s thoughts spiraling.

Paige caught her again, and her smirk deepened. “Are you seriously doing it again dude?”

Azzi groaned, slouching in her seat. “Oh my God, stop.”

“Stop what?” Paige asked innocently, purposefully shifting her grip on the wheel, her fingers flexing just a little more dramatically this time.

Azzi covered her face with her hands, her voice muffled as she muttered, “I hate you so much.”

Paige laughed, the sound light and teasing. “No, you don’t.” She shifted her hands again, dragging the moment out, clearly enjoying Azzi’s growing frustration.

“Paige,” Azzi warned, her voice low, though it lacked any real bite.

“What?” Paige asked, feigning innocence as she glanced over at her. “I’m just driving.”

Azzi groaned, leaning back in her seat. “Oh my God, just stop. Why do you even drive like that?”

“Like what?” Paige asked innocently.

Azzi let out a frustrated noise and covered her face with her hands. “You’re doing it on purpose now. I know you are.”

Paige chuckled, her laugh warm and teasing. “Maybe.” She then switched driving hands as she dropped her right hand from the wheel, letting it fall casually onto Azzi’s leg.

Azzi froze, her breath hitching as Paige’s fingers rested just above her knee, her touch light but deliberate. Her wide eyes snapped to Paige, who kept her gaze firmly on the road, her smirk now bordering on a full grin.

“What are you doing?” Azzi demanded, her voice higher than she intended.

Paige shrugged, her tone casual. “Nothing. Just resting my hand. Relax.”

Azzi’s hands shot up in disbelief, gesturing toward the offending hand on her leg. “Relax? Are you kidding me? Move your hand before you crash!”

Paige laughed, giving her thigh the faintest squeeze before replying, “I’m not gonna crash from touching your leg, Azzi. Chill.”

Azzi groaned, squeezing her eyes shut for a second before snapping, “Fine! Move it before I lose my mind.”

Paige’s laugh deepened as she finally slid her hand back to the wheel. “You’re so easy to mess with.”

Azzi groaned, slumping into her seat and covering her face again. “I hate you. I actually hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Paige replied, glancing over with a playful glint in her eye. “Admit it, you like when I mess with you.”

Azzi huffed but couldn’t suppress the warmth spreading across her face—or the tiny smile tugging at her lips. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Paige smirked, her confidence only growing. “I’m not the one having a heart attack over getting their leg touched.”

Azzi glared at her but couldn’t fight the laugh bubbling out. She shook her head, muttering under her breath. “I’m going to lose my mind before we get back to Connecticut.”

Paige glanced at her again, the teasing replaced with something softer, though her smirk lingered. “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” she murmured, her voice quieter but no less bold.

Azzi bit her lip, forcing herself to look out the window again, but she couldn’t hide the way her cheeks burned—or the way her heart raced whenever Paige pushed her buttons just like this.

…

The teasing had died down as the miles stretched on, replaced by a comfortable silence. Azzi was staring out the window, watching the trees blur past, but her mind was thinking about any and everything related to the girl sitting next to her. She glanced at Paige, her jaw set in quiet concentration as she navigated the highway. Finally, Azzi broke the silence.

“Can I ask you something?”

Paige raised an eyebrow, glancing over briefly. “Yeah, of course.”

Azzi hesitated, her fingers fidgeting in her lap. “Why did everyone used to be so worried about you? I remember hearing stuff, but no one really explained. And when I started going with you it was never that bad so why’d they make it such a big deal before?”

Paige’s hands tightened slightly on the wheel. She let out a slow breath, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. “That’s... kind of a long-ish story.”

Azzi turned toward her, leaning slightly against the door. “We’ve got time.” Her voice was soft, no pressure, just genuine curiosity.

Paige laughed lightly, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “Okay, but you can’t freak out, it was a long time ago, alright?”

Azzi frowned but nodded. “Alright.”

Paige shifted in her seat, adjusting her grip on the wheel. “It was after the Final Four. A couple of weeks after we lost. I just... wasn’t in a good place. I blamed myself for everything—every missed shot, every mistake. It felt like I let everyone down. So, I did what I always do. I locked myself in the gym.”

Azzi’s brow furrowed. “For how long?”

Paige shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “A couple of days, maybe?I didn’t realize I wasn’t really eating or drinking water. Just working out, watching film, shooting until I couldn’t stand anymore.” She gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. “Literally.”

Azzi’s stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”

“Evina found me passed out,” Paige admitted quietly, her voice almost lost under the hum of the car. “It was just dehydration and not eating enough, nothing serious. But after that, everyone started treating me like I was fragile or something.”

Azzi stared at her, the air catching in her throat. “Paige...”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Paige said quickly, waving it off. “Dehydration, low blood sugar—nothing serious.”

“That is serious,” Azzi countered, her tone sharp with concern.

Paige shrugged, a faint bitterness in her smile. “Maybe. But at the time, it felt like I deserved it, you know? I wasn’t happy, Az. Not with basketball, not with myself. I basically hated myself. It was like... no matter how much time I spent in the gym, it didn’t make up for how I felt. I just wanted to work hard enough to forget, but instead, I ended up running myself into the ground.”

Azzi’s brow furrowed as she processed Paige’s words. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

Paige let out a soft laugh. “Who? Tell them what? That I couldn’t handle the pressure? That I felt like a failure? Everyone was looking at me to bounce back, to lead, to be Paige Bueckers. I couldn’t let them see me crack.” She paused, her voice barely above a whisper. “I felt so alone. Like no one understood what I was going through. So I didn’t talk to anyone and just spent my days in the gym.”

Azzi’s chest tightened. “Paige, that’s... I don’t even know what to say. I can’t believe you went through all of that by yourself.”

“I didn’t really have a choice,” Paige murmured. “It’s not exactly the kind of thing you can just explain to people.”

Azzi opened her mouth to respond, but Paige spoke first. “My knee’s starting to ache a little.” She glanced at Azzi, her tone lighter but her eyes searching. “There’s a diner at the next exit. Let’s stop for a bit.”

Azzi frowned slightly, sensing something beneath the excuse, but nodded. “Yeah, okay. You sure you’re good?”

“Yeah,” Paige said, her lips curving into a faint smile. “I just... want to sit for a bit. And, you know, look at you while we talk instead of staring at the road.”

Azzi felt her cheeks warm at the admission but said nothing as Paige took the exit.

Once they were seated in a quiet booth at the corner of the diner, Azzi finally spoke. “I didn’t know it was that bad for you.”

Paige stirred her water with her straw, her expression contemplative. “I didn’t either, not at first. I thought I could handle it. But looking back... I was just running from how I felt.” She glanced up at Azzi, her eyes soft. “You know what I mean?”

Azzi nodded slowly. “Yes actually. When I tore my ACL, I thought my career was over. I didn’t want to get out of bed, let alone go to rehab. My parents practically had to drag me out of the house some days and force me to shower. I felt like I’d never be the same player again, like I let everyone down. It was... dark for a while.”

Paige leaned forward to let Azzi know she was listening. “How did you get through it?”

Azzi shrugged. “Time, mostly. And people not giving up on me, even when I gave up on myself. But it’s still hard, you know? Some days, it still feels like the world’s too heavy to carry.”

Paige nodded, her gaze steady on Azzi. “Yeah. I get that.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, the kind where neither of them felt the need to fill the space. Paige finally broke it with a soft laugh. “You’re really easy to talk to, you know that?”

Azzi smiled, her eyes warm. “So are you.”

As they sat there, the hum of the diner around them, Paige felt a strange sense of peace settle over her.

The conversation deepened as they sat in the quiet corner of the diner, their voices low but steady. Paige found herself opening up about things she hadn’t thought about in years, things she’d never told anyone else—her childhood, her family, the moments that shaped her love for basketball. Azzi listened intently, chiming in with her own stories. They talked for hours and didn’t even notice.

“You were a troublemaker as a kid, huh?” Paige teased, leaning back in the booth.

Azzi grinned. “Not trouble, exactly. I just had... energy. My mom says I never sat still, which is probably why sports were the only thing that worked for me.”

Paige smirked. “Explains a lot.”

Azzi nudged her foot under the table. “And you? Let me guess—perfect student, teacher’s pet, MVP of the kickball team?”

Paige chuckled. “Something like that. I always wanted to be the best at everything, even if it didn’t matter. Like, who cares if you’re the fastest at spelling quizzes?”

“Apparently you did,” Azzi teased, her smile softening. “That competitive streak must’ve made you fun to grow up with.”

Paige shrugged, her tone turning reflective. “It was a lot of pressure, though. Some of it I put on myself, but a lot came from... expectations. Like, if I wasn’t the best, what was the point?”

Azzi nodded in understanding. “I get that. I think that’s why I struggled so much after my injury. For so long, basketball was who I was. When I couldn’t play, it felt like I didn’t know myself anymore. I didn’t know what to do day in and day out.”

Paige reached across the table, her fingers brushing Azzi’s hand briefly before she pulled back. “I’m really glad you didn’t give up.”

Azzi’s eyes softened. “Me too.”

Their waiter approached, setting down Azzi’s dessert—a large slice of chocolate cake with a swirl of whipped cream on top. Paige shook her head, laughing softly. “Of course you’d order that.”

Azzi picked up her fork with a grin. “What can I say? I’m predictable.” She took a bite, humming in satisfaction before holding a forkful out toward Paige. “Here, try it.”

Paige wrinkled her nose. “You’re always trying to get me to eat sugar.”

“Because it’s not as fun when I have to eat it by myself,” Azzi shot back, waving the fork in front of her. “C’mon, just one bite. It’s really good.”

Paige sighed dramatically but leaned forward, letting Azzi feed her the bite of cake. She chewed, her face carefully neutral before finally swallowing. “Okay, fine. It’s good.”

Azzi smirked, leaning back triumphantly. “Told you.”

When the check came, Paige didn’t give Azzi a chance to reach for her wallet. She slid her card into the leather folder and handed it to the waiter without a word.

Azzi arched a brow. “You never even let me try to pay for anything.”

Paige shrugged, standing up and grabbing her coat. “You’ll get the next one.”

“Next one?” Azzi echoed, a teasing lilt in her voice.

Paige glanced over her shoulder. “Unless this is the last road trip we ever take together?”

Azzi shook her head, laughing as they headed back to the car. The air outside was crisp, but Paige felt warm, the lingering glow of their conversation following her as she slid into the driver’s seat.

Azzi settled in beside her, glancing over as Paige started the engine. “You know,” she said softly, “I like this.”

Paige glanced at her. “What?”

“This,” Azzi said, gesturing between them. “Whatever this is. Us just... being.”

Paige smiled, her heart full in a way she couldn’t quite put into words. “Yeah. Me too.”

…

By the time they pulled into the parking lot in Connecticut, the car was silent except for the low hum of the engine. Azzi was sound asleep, her head resting gently against the window, her breaths slow and even. Paige turned off the car and let herself sit for a moment, her eyes drifting over to Azzi. She took in the way the soft moonlight highlighted her features, her peaceful expression making Paige’s chest tighten.

Paige smiled to herself, leaning back in her seat. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispered under her breath, the words barely audible.

Reaching out, Paige gently ran her hand down the side of Azzi’s face, her fingers brushing her cheek lightly. The touch caused Azzi to stir, her brows furrowing as she slowly blinked awake.

“Hey,” Paige said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “We’re back.”

Azzi stretched slightly, her movements sluggish as she tried to wake herself up. Eventually Paige stepped out of the car, walking around to Azzi’s door. She opened it, leaning in with a teasing smile. “Come on before I carry you.”

Azzi snorted, her voice still thick with sleep. “Paige, you can’t carry me.”

Paige scoffed, a mischievous glint sparking in her eyes. “Oh, really?”

Before Azzi could protest, Paige slid one arm under her legs and the other behind her back, lifting her out of the car with surprising ease. Azzi squealed, grabbing onto Paige’s shoulders. “Put me down!” she yelped, her voice pitching higher than usual.

Paige grinned, clearly enjoying herself. “What’s wrong? I thought you said I couldn’t carry you.”

“Paige, your knee!” Azzi scolded, trying to sound serious but failing as laughter bubbled out. “You just got cleared to play again—don’t go ruining it!”

Paige hummed in thought at the mention of being cleared to play. “Hmm...”

“No,” Azzi interrupted, narrowing her eyes even as she laughed.

“Pleaseee?” Paige said, dragging the word out dramatically, her smile widening as she put Azzi down gently onto the pavement.

Azzi groaned, but there was no real annoyance in it. “You’re literally insane,” she muttered, already knowing where this was heading.

“Come on Az please,” Paige pressed, her tone playful but pleading.

Azzi sighed, finally relenting. “Fine,” she said, shaking her head. “But you’re getting my shoes.”

Paige’s face lit up like she’d won a championship. “Deal!”

Azzi chuckled, turning back toward the car to get back in the passenger seat. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to fight you on this.”

Paige didn’t respond, already jogging toward the suite with a bounce in her step. “I’ll be right back!” she called over her shoulder.

Azzi shook her head, smiling despite herself. “She’s gonna be the death of me,” she muttered, getting back in the car as Paige ran inside to grab their basketball shoes, her energy contagious even in the middle of the night.

…

If Azzi didn’t know any better, she’d think Paige was on something. The blonde had been in the gym for hours, bouncing off the walls with energy, clearly ecstatic to be freely shooting a basketball again—even if she wasn’t cleared for contact.

Azzi, on the other hand, was drained. She’d given up about thirty minutes ago, peeling off her basketball shoes and resigning herself to sitting on the floor, watching Paige’s every move. She leaned back on her hands, her chest rising and falling steadily as she caught her breath. Her eyes following Paige darting around the court, making shot after shot, her smile brighter than the overhead light they had turned on.

Eventually, Paige bounded over to her and, without warning, dramatically sprawled across Azzi’s lap, her sweaty body pressing against Azzi’s.

Azzi groaned, trying for annoyance but failing as her lips curved into a small smile. “Ew, Paige, you’re sweaty.” She didn’t, however, make any effort to push her off.

Paige grinned up at her, clearly unbothered. “Alright, I think I’m done.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, feigning shock. “Oh wow, it only took three hours. Truly a miracle.”

Paige laughed softly, her smile warm and unguarded as she looked up at Azzi. Something in her expression softened, and for a moment, the only sound was their steady breathing.

Azzi hesitated, her chest tightening as she gazed down at Paige. She reached out instinctively, brushing a strand of sweaty hair out of Paige’s face. Her fingers lingered for a second before she spoke, her voice quiet and a little shaky. “I really love your eyes.”

Paige blinked as her cheeks flushed faintly as her grin softened into something more genuine. “I love your smile,” she murmured, her voice steady but low, like it was meant just for Azzi.

They stared at each other for a long moment, the air between them hung with unspoken emotions. Paige’s expression was completely open, her gaze searching Azzi’s as if she were trying to commit every detail of her face to memory.

The closeness sent Azzi’s heart racing, the feeling so intense it almost overwhelmed her. So she quickly pushed Paige off her lap and stood up, clearing her throat. “Come on,” she said, trying to mask the flustered edge in her voice.

Paige smiled to herself as she got up and followed Azzi. But instead of heading toward the gym’s front doors and her car, she grabbed Azzi’s hand, intertwining their fingers and tugging her in the opposite direction.

Azzi groaned lightly, though she didn’t pull away. “Where are we going now, Paige?”

Paige glanced back, her grin teasing.

“We’re gonna watch the sunrise.”

Azzi stopped complaining immediately, her curiosity piqued as Paige led her to the elevator.

When they reached the rooftop, the early morning air hit them, but Azzi immediately vetoed going outside. “No you’re gonna get us sick,” she scolded. “We’re sweaty, and it’s freezing.”

Paige laughed but didn’t argue, following Azzi to a spot by the glass windows that offered a perfect view of the sky. They sat down side by side, the first light of dawn spilling through the panes and casting a soft glow over them.

Azzi rested her head on Paige’s shoulder, her body relaxing into the blonde. She reached for Paige’s hand, her fingers lightly playing with Paige’s in an absentminded gesture that felt far more intimate than either of them acknowledged.

They watched in silence as the sky gradually brightened, the world slowly coming alive with shades of pink, purple, and gold.

Paige turned her head slightly, resting her cheek against Azzi’s hair. “Thanks for coming with me today,” she said softly, her voice low and sincere.

Azzi tilted her head up to meet Paige’s gaze, her lips curving into a small smile. “Always.”

They stayed like that, wrapped in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence, letting the moment stretch until the sun fully broke the horizon, casting its warm light over them.

Eventually, as the last traces of night faded and the sun rose higher into the sky, Paige sighed and stretched. “Well, I guess we should go finally get some sleep.”

Azzi agreed, lifting her head off Paige’s shoulder and standing up. Paige followed suit, and the two of them walked back toward the elevator, hands still lingering together.

Once they were back in the car, the drive to Paige’s dorm was quiet, the peacefulness of the morning lingering between them. By the time they arrived, the exhaustion from their trip hit them all at once.

They both took quick showers, Azzi finding herself some clothes in Paige’s drawer while Paige showered.

Paige slumped onto her bed, pulling the covers up. Azzi followed suit, crawling under the blankets next to her.

As the lights went off, the silence of the room filled with the soft sounds of their breathing. Despite the exhaustion, neither of them wanted to drift off just yet. They exchanged a glance, a small smile shared between them, as they settled into the warmth of the bed.

"Goodnight, Az," Paige whispered, her voice gentle but filled with something deeper, something unspoken.

Azzi smiled softly, closing her eyes. "Goodnight, Paige."

…

A week or so later, Paige was sitting in the training room, her legs stretched out on the bench as she scrolled through her phone. Her lips curled into a smile, her eyes lighting up as she read whatever was on her screen.

Evina, who was seated across from her, noticed immediately and let out a laugh. “What’s got you all smiley over there?”

Paige glanced up, caught off guard but unable to wipe the grin off her face. “It’s nothing,” she said, her tone too casual to be convincing. She glanced back at her phone before quickly adding, “Azzi just sent me something. She’s on her way now.”

Evina raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. She’d been waiting for an opening like this. “Speaking of Azzi, what’s going on with you two?”

Paige froze, her fingers halting mid-scroll. “What do you mean?” she asked, feigning ignorance, but the blush creeping up her cheeks betrayed her.

Evina leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she gave Paige a knowing look. “Come on, Paige. You two are pretty close now. Like, real close.”

Paige let out a nervous laugh, shaking her head. “Nah, she’s just like... my best friend now,” she said, her voice a little too quick and defensive.

Evina wasn’t buying it. She tilted her head, her expression skeptical. “Paige, be fucking for real,” she said, her tone teasing but firm.

Before Paige could respond, the door to the training room opened, and Azzi walked in. She headed straight for Paige without hesitation, a warm smile on her face as she leaned down to wrap her arms around the blonde in a quick but affectionate hug.

Paige blushed even deeper under Evina’s gaze, her hands lingering a second too long on Azzi’s back before she pulled away.

Evina smirked, leaning back in her seat with her arms crossed. “Wow,” she said, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “No love for Mama E?”

Azzi laughed, the sound light and unbothered, as she turned to Evina. “Alright, alright,” she said, walking over to give her a quick side hug. “You happy now?”

Evina shook her head with a grin, glancing pointedly between the two of them. “Oh, I’m very happy. This is way better than anything I could’ve imagined.”

Paige groaned, burying her face in her hands, while Azzi, not really knowing the context, just chuckled and perched herself on the bench next to her.

Evina wasn’t about to let up, but Paige shot her a pleading look, mouthing, Don’t. Evina raised her hands in mock surrender, but the mischievous twinkle in her eye promised this conversation wasn’t over.

[muletia]

Ratchet would feel guilty for interfacing with you behind his friend/leader’s back. But you are just so addictive, he can’t help but crave you even he just had a taste yesterday. All the while Optimus is blissfully ignorant of your sessions with his dear, old friend.

𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

[tfp] obsessed!ratchet x human!reader +18 content / valveplug

cw: explicit valveplug, obsessive thoughts, implied cheating(?) - not really reader just went the slut route lmao

word count: 670

the fact that every single bot reader interfaces with is a cuck is so fucking funny to me, but that's what you get for slaying too hard lmao

Kisses cascade in an avalanche onto your exposed, tilted neck, seeking to cover every inch, every crevice, and every scrap of skin. He wants you to feel good, to take as much pleasure from this closeness as he does and judging by your laughter and the playful squirming on his hips, his actions must be working, bringing you genuine, unfiltered joy. The servos wrapped around your waist tighten, silently begging you to stop teasing his hidden spike.

He prays to Primus that you won’t feel any guilt for stepping into his habsuite again, that you won’t change your mind at the most unexpected moment and leave, abandoning this addict with a burning need. That you won’t shatter his already fragile spark further— now filled with the missing pieces only you could fill.

"Are you sure you want this?" he asks, momentarily pausing the kisses, now lingering on your sternum. His tired optics gaze at you intensely, silently pleading for approval but still offering you a choice.

You roll your eyes in response. "You ask me that every time, Ratch. I’ve never been more sure." It’s exactly what he needed—your affirmation.

The tenderness on your chest resumes, now hungrier and more fervent. He wants to revel in you fully before the next separation, to explore every inch of your body, to sate himself before you're apart again. He knows he’s greedy, that he’s asking too much of you, especially when you’ve been meeting almost daily. But he can’t help it. He can’t stop this insatiable hunger that drives him to stay close, to touch you, to bring you pleasure. And now, with your consent to interface, he can do so in the most intimate and sensual way.

He releases his spike, resting it on your exposed stomach, signaling his intent. He can’t wait any longer — foreplay is over. Needs to feel you from the inside, to experience the honor of entering your soft, warm heaven, to lose himself completely in the pleasure. But to his surprise, you deny him, blocking the entrance to that heaven.

"Wait," you say. "Do you want this? No objections?"

Your questions catch him off guard, pulling him out of his trance because you’ve brought up something he’s been trying not to think about.

Interfacing with you was incredible — otherworldly, even — but he can’t deny the taboo that accompanies it. It goes beyond the interspecies aspect, which he’d accepted the moment he first breached your barriers. No, the pang in his spark after each encounter with you stems from betraying his dearest friend. He knows how Optimus looks at you, knows how close you two are, and understands the rare bond you’ve forged with the Prime. Inviting you into his habsuite was a display of disloyalty and disregard, crushing the brotherly bond he shared with the Autobot leader, eroding trust. He’s not proud of himself. Sometimes, all he feels is disgust at his own lack of restraint. He knows he should stop, leave you alone, and pretend nothing ever happened between you.

"Ratchet?" you ask, worried. He focuses his optics on you and lowers his helm. It’s a shame that one look at you completely shatters his moral compass, reigniting the unbridled, dangerous hunger he can’t fight. The issue of loyalty fades into oblivion as he pushes it to the back of his processor, covering it with desire. "Are you okay?"

"Never better," he replies. He shifts his hips, aligning his spike slick with transfluid against your warmth, teasing both you and himself. He wants to forget obligations, fatigue, burdens, and taboos. He wants you to consume him, destroy him, and drown him in adoration. Make him think of nothing but pleasure.

With minimal effort, he lifts you gently, still holding your waist, and slides deep inside you. Instantly, you envelop his spike, welcoming him with softness and wetness that drives him to a fever pitch. His hips begin to buck, his mind now consumed entirely by you.

[simplyraeblue]

King and Captive

(Hunter and Hunted Spin-Off) read here

modern au a chance meeting with Sukuna quickly turns into a nightly routine you can't escape. as the lines between game and something more blur, you start to wonder—how long can you keep playing, or will Sukuna make you his next conquest? !Sukuna x !femreader

chapter warnings/tags: MDNI, NSFW, swearing, use of "princess", "she/her" pronouns used, mentions of OG story, appearance of other characters, SMUT SMUT SMUT, p in v, creampie, unprotected, Sukuna is a changed man afterwards (but really?) A/N: the time has COME my friends (heh, pun). so sorry it took me forever to post, the holidays have been insane with travel, and I was soaking up every second with my long-distance BF. someone in the OG storyline had commented that Sukuna needed someone to match his freak... well, they were right. (• ᴗ -)

index part four | part six

part five word count : 4,588

every day since your first kiss with him, without fail, Sukuna appeared parked out front of your work waiting for you. you weren’t sure if the satisfaction you felt was from seeing him leaned against his bike, or if it was the reactions of the dickwads you worked with.

“are you sure that’s safe?”

“does he have a motorcycle license?”

“what’s up with all that ink?”

you just brushed them off, tossing your hair over your shoulder as you practically skipped over to your mysterious tattooed man before receiving a warm welcome in the form of a deep kiss on the lips. to make it worse for your coworkers, they definitely saw Sukuna slip his tongue in your mouth as he side-eyed them.

bunch of heathens, he thought to himself. he knew the comments they made behind your back, the peaks they took at your ass, even could guess that they thought of you when they had nothing but their hand to give them comfort. pathetic.

and yet, he’d made no move to take things further than a few heavy make out sessions. maybe he was the pathetic one.

but all that would be put to the test tonight.

“a party?” you asked, twirling the straw in your glass around and around while Sukuna smirked at you. of course, had taken you to your usual bar to treat you after work - just like he did almost every day.

“my brother asked me to come, said I was required to bring a guest.” Sukuna was only partly lying – Yuji had asked him to come but never mentioned anything about bringing someone. but he knew you’d be just fine.

“I don’t know, aren’t we a little… old to be going?” you teased lightly but truthfully, you’d already accepted the invitation in your mind. “bunch of college kids, drinking and dicking around?”

Sukuna’s shoulder shook with a booming laugh. “if there’s no dicking around, then it’s not a party, princess.”

you couldn’t help but pout as the thought of who would be there crossed your mind. did you dare ask him? risk bringing up a sore subject?

he’d told you about what happened last summer, one night when you both had a few too many glasses of wine. Sukuna swore that wine was his truth serum. so now you knew that his former – lover, ex girlfriend, fling? – was dating his half brother Choso.

curiosity gnawed at your bones. was she pretty? hot? drop dead fucking gorgeous? how did you compare?

a light tap of Sukuna’s finger to your temple snapped your from your anxiety spiral. “what’s going through your mind?” he asked softer than usual, the change in his demeanor catching you off guard.

no, you couldn’t let yourself drown in what-ifs. “let’s do it. I owe you one.” you told him with finality, face set in determination as you downed the rest of your drink in one go before standing from your seat and pulling your jacket on.

Sukuna was curious why your attitude towards the idea suddenly changed; you were dead quiet for a minute, brows furrowed and already thinking of something he would have loved to correct you on. most certainly about how you’d fit in. and yet you stood with confidence now, lips in a tight line and eyes locking with his.

god, he wanted to kiss you until he couldn’t breathe.

“owe me for what, princess?” Sukuna smiled at you, sharp canines flashing in doing so.

“for putting on a damn good show in front of my ex. it’s time I return the favor.”

oh.

-

this was a mistake. a big fat fucking mistake and you didn’t realize it until you were walking up to the front door with Sukuna. you fidgeted with your skirt, smoothed your hair, tried to make yourself at least look like you hadn’t just let Sukuna tongue fuck your mouth in the car just moments ago.

would anyone be able to tell that you were sexually frustrated and as tense as a stretched rubber band? god you should have told him to knock it off but you just couldn’t help it.

Sukuna knocked three times, alerting Yuji to his presence before opening the door ahead of any answer. this used to be his home, after all. before everyone and their mother decided to come and dry hump on the couch every night.

he’d seen Choso’s lights on as you both walked up, and he was sure that she’d be here - and he silently hoped that wouldn’t scare you away.

“hey, Sukuna’s here everybody!” you heard someone shout, followed by a few grumbles of fake enthusiasm. did everyone really look down on him that much?

his brother Yuji, or you assumed by the matching head of pink fluffy hair, practically bounded over and wrapped his arms around Sukuna. “I’m so glad you made it!” Yuji exclaimed with a wide, toothy grin.

“yeah, yeah, like you would’ve noticed my absence.” Sukuna teased before turning the tables on Yuji and enclosing an arm around his brother’s throat to roughly rub his knuckles across Yuji’s scalp. “don’t make a big deal okay? I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

it was until then that Yuji noticed you, standing slightly behind Sukuna and smiling at the display - honestly surprised to see that side of Sukuna. “hi, I hope you don’t mind that I tagged along.” you bowed your head slightly, but a quick elbow from Sukuna had you straightening up.

“don’t do that, you don’t have to.” he corrected you with a smirk, and Yuji was having none of it.

your hands were quickly enclosed in his, and he bounced up and down with enthusiasm. “guys, Sukuna brought a girl with him!” Yuji yelled out behind him as he suddenly wrapped you in a hug too.

Sukuna rolled his eyes as he watched his little brother almost squeeze the life out of you. he half expected you to shrug it off, or push him away, but you were beaming. a grin stretched across your face and he felt his heart race wildly at the sight.

“woah, really? what, did you kidnap her or something?” a red-haired girl rushed around the corner, but when she saw you her jaw dropped. “holy fucking shit, she’s gorgeous!”

“that’s Nobara Kugisake, please ignore her for your own mental sanity.” Sukuna grumbled out an introduction, earning a sharp glare from Nobara before she also wrapped you up in a hug - joining Yuji seeing as he hadn’t even let go yet.

you were soon introduced to Megumi Fushiguro, Toge Inumaki, Yuta Okkotsu, and Maki Zenin. the only one out of four who showed an ounce of enthusiam was Inumaki, who extended his hand for you to shake.

you couldn’t help but wonder where -

“who’s your friend, Sukuna?” you turned at the voice, eyes catching on his other brother Choso standing at the bottom of the stairs, and then -

fucking hell. she was beautiful. like, “doesn’t have to try” beautiful.

and you were very, very aware of her eyes scanning over you, lips parted slightly in what looked to be surprise as she noted your presence. more specifically, Sukuna’s hand enclosed in yours.

Sukuna was quick to make introductions, not wanting to dwell on the fact that he had noticed how your demeanor shifted suddenly. he knew why, and he’d make sure to discuss it later, but for now he focused on wrapping an arm around your waist and keeping you at his side.

he didn’t want you to draw comparisons, but he could tell you were already doing so. your eyes followed her almost every where before you’d look down at your outfit, comb your fingers through your hair, or adjusted your posture.

to Sukuna, there was no fucking comparison. you were his and she was not.

but you couldn’t help it. you had wanted to know how - how had this one girl once had both Sukuna and Choso wrapped around her finger? and now after looking at her you knew. and you hated that she wasn’t hideous or bitchy. hated that you had yet to find anything negative about her.

the night dragged on, and so did your swirl of negative thoughts. Yuji was amazing, and Sukuna had been right that you two would get along. Choso was even very sweet, although still side eyeing Sukuna on occasion as if you couldn’t see.

once everyone was good and drunk, and things took a turn for the crazier side of a party, you were mentally checked out. Sukuna watched as you started to stare off into the distance, blinking a little too long and yawning into your elbow. you were getting sleepy, he knew it because you always looked the cutest when you were half awake.

“I think it’s time I get her back home. right, princess?” Sukuna pulled you closer to his side as everyone bid you goodnight, Yuji making sure to express repeatedly that you were always welcome. he didn’t miss the last long look you gave her from across the room.

you almost fell asleep on the ride back to your apartment, Sukuna’s warmth radiating off of him as your arms were wrapped around his torso. did you make a good first impression? did everyone like you, or hate you?

were you as pretty as her?

Sukuna had been fully intent on walking you to your door, and dropping you off like a gentleman. but manners be damned. as soon as you turned the key, and turned to look at him with big doe eyes, he was screwed.

“am I as pretty as her?” the question slipped from your lips before you could stop it, but you couldn’t help it. you had to know, otherwise you’d go crazy wondering about it.

but Sukuna didn’t respond, which made your stomach drop as he ushered you through your door before clicking it shut behind him. you almost took the silence as your answer, until suddenly your back was pressed up against the inside of your door and Sukuna had two hands firmly planted on either side of your head.

“don’t. don’t start making comparisons to her, because there is nothing to compare.” Sukuna growled lightly, chest heaving as he tried to keep a tight leash on his resolve to kiss you until you forgot all about it. “if you’re looking for something to set yourself apart - you’re mine. she’s not, and that’s that.”

“but-”

“no buts.” you were making it increasingly more difficult for him to control himself. what must he do to prove it to you? to chase away your negative thoughts and show you that you are the one he wants, exes and hookups be damned.

when you looked up at him again, he had one tiny, tiny shred left.

“then show me I’m yours.”

you were expecting him to laugh it off, to tell you that you were too tired or that he was going to be a gentleman. you were sick of that - fuck being a gentleman, you wanted him to fuck you.

but no, Sukuna took it as a challenge.

his lips crashed into yours, rough and unrestrained as his body pressed into you fervently. you tasted sweet, all he could think about as soon as he kissed you was how sweet you tasted and how he craved more. it made him wonder if you tasted just as sweet every where else.

the notion led him to start trailing rough kisses down your cheek, your jaw, onto your neck. peppered kisses mixed with nips of his teeth against your skin and you were already feeling hot. so fucking hot that it made you wonder what you’d set your thermostat to before you left.

you were so ablaze that you decided you needed your clothes off - now.

you started to lean into Sukuna, more and more until he started backing into your apartment with you in his arms, not allowing himself to breath and stuffing his face into your neck. he didn’t want to move or stop what he was doing, not until he was thoroughly drunk on your scent.

he backed up until he hit your bedroom door, reaching behind himself with one hand to open it and pull you inside with him. Sukuna’s lips returned to yours, nipping and tugging roughly at your bottom lip, causing you to moan out of your parted lips. he made note of how much he loved that sound, deciding to make sure he heard it throughout the night.

both of you tumbled back onto your bedspread, with Sukuna pinned under your body as you returned his needy kisses ten fold. he was warm and rough and sturdy and you ached for every bit of it. you went to bite his lip back, barely missing and catching his cheek again and his hips jolted in response.

Sukuna felt like a wild animal, and you seemingly matched his energy with your roaming hands and rough gentle teeth. if he knew how much you loved to bite he would have done this a hell of a lot sooner.

as your hands reached between your bodies and fumbled with his belt, Sukuna’s sank his canines into the exposed skin right between your neck and shoulder and hauled. hauled you to the side and rolled until you were firmly planted beneath him now, turning the tables.

he had to remind himself of where he was, who he was with, and what he intended to do with you. with permission.

“do you want to?” Sukuna’s voice came out broken and rough from lack of air due to your addictive kiss. his eyes scanned your face for any ounce of hesitation, but all he could find was your eyes half open as you smirked up at him.

“oh for fuck’s sake, I want you.” you murmured to answer him, reaching a hand up to rest on his cheek and smile at him.

and he melted on the spot. your warm touch, your smile, everything you were taking and giving right back to him made his heart thump wildly in his chest. if he didn’t know any better he thought you might be able to hear his pulse racing in the silence.

he didn’t let himself hesitate before his lips were on your skin again, now more gentle as he worked over your neck and jaw line. “tell me what you want. or don’t want.” Sukuna bit out that last part, trying desperately to remember how much progress he’d made in his journey to becoming a better man.

but dammit was it hard to be better right now when all he wanted to do was shove your face in the mattress and make you take his cock deep.

you hummed out soft praises as he worked his way down to your top, helping you rise and pull it over your shoulders, and soon after your pants followed to be discarded somewhere on the floor.

“how come I’m the first one that had to strip, and you’re still fully dressed?” you teased as you nipped at his exposed neck, pressing your tongue flat to lick a small stripe up the tattoo lining his shoulder.

Sukuna wanted to fire back, argue and tease until your cheeks were heated, but not right now. no, he made quick work of his own clothing, until the both of you were down to only your underwear.

and my oh my was Sukuna in nothing but boxers a sight to behold. you couldn’t help but ogle the growing mass straining in his underwear, twitching already as if it was begging to be freed.

“I knew it.” you gave him a smug grin as you stared right at his covered cock. “I knew you were big.”

Sukuna laughed, your blunt honesty taking him off guard but finding it hilarious nonetheless. “so, you’ve been thinking ‘bout my dick, have you?” he quipped before quickly smashing his lips to yours to halt any further remarks from your mouth. “how’d you like to see the real thing, princess?”

you nodded eagerly, hands already reaching for the waistband of his boxers and gulping as you felt him twitch at your touch. just by looking at it, even covered by fabric, you wondered if you’d be able to take it. would he even fucking fit?

your question was validated as soon as you slipped his boxers down past his knees and his cock was released.

the tip was already glistening with leaking pre-cum, his veins so prominent that your mouth went dry, and the thickness… god you really would be struggling to take him all in.

“your turn.” Sukuna grinned wickedly as he watched you stare at his cock. he could see the way you gulped at the sight, no doubt wracking your brain for an explanation of just how he could fit inside of you. “let me see you, pretty girl.”

his fingers danced along your panty line, feather-light touches sending chills up your spine as his knuckles brushed over your core.

“so wet already, hm?” he cooed as he let his middle knuckle press into your clit through the cloth. your back arched at the touch, and he sucked in a breath as he watched your mouth fall open from the littlest amount of pleasure.

without wasting any more time, he pulled your panties past you knees and off of your ankles - tossing them in his pile of clothes instead of yours. he’d be saving those for later, of course.

Sukuna had never felt himself go breathless at the sight of someone naked before. but now, every touch he gave and every noise from your lips had him shaking with anticipation.

you felt one of his fingers run through your wet folds, a groan escaping his lips at the feeling. “don’t be a tease.” you whined as you tried to scoot your hips into his touch. one of his hands firmly planted itself on your waist, pinning you in place to halt your desperate movements.

“just trying to get you ready, princess.” Sukuna explained before circling your clit, causing you to suck in a breath and grip the sheets a little tighter between your palms. “you said it yourself, it’s pretty big.

but you were impatient. you needed him right fucking now. “don’t care, I can take it.”

you can’t take it, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“don’t wanna hurt you.” Sukuna was trying so hard to be gentle, to fuck you the way you deserved but goddamn were you starting to make him crazy.

you looked him in the eye, pupils blown out with lust already, and smirked. “what are you, scared?” you teased, hoping that it would elicit the exact response you wanted.

and oh it did. he snapped, immediately pushing your legs up and back so that you knees met your chest to fold you up. Sukuna loved that you were smaller than him, pliable, easy to move around as he saw fit. if you were going to act like a brat then you could take it like a brat.

you moan at the first nudge of his tip in your entrance, his pre-cum mixing with your arousal as he teased so deliciously at your hole. he was baiting you to say something more. to talk back so that he could fuck the attitude out of you.

“you wanna rethink your cockiness now, sweet girl?” he bit out the words as he restrained himself from sheathing his cock to the hilt in one go. fuck he wanted to bury himself within you and watch as you fell apart. “I can feel your tight cunt already startin’ to stretch.”

it was a divine mixture of pain and pleasure to feel him slowly ease in, the tip of his dick now pushing past the first ring and sliding into your cunt. but it wasn’t enough for you.

“more, pl - please, give me more.” you groaned while reaching up to claw at his pecs. “just - ah - fuck me already dammit.”

“if you say so.” a grin spread across Sukuna’s face before he jolted his hips forward, bullying past your tight walls as fast as you could physically allow him until he was firmly planted deep inside of you.

you cried out, borderline screamed, at the stretch and burn of his huge dick molding you to his desire. oh it was so so good. you had never felt anything like it - you felt completely stuffed.

Sukuna but his lip so hard that he tasted copper as your walls clenched around him. “fuck you’re so - ngh - tight princess.” he pressed a hand across your abdomen, finding that sweet spot where he could feel his tip under your skin, almost buried within your cervix, or even past that. “takin’ me so well, feel s’ good.”

“holy shit, holy fucking shit.” a whine escaped you when you sucked in a breath. you dared to open your eyes from being clenched to see Sukuna hovering above you, completely still as if he couldn’t risk making another move.

and sure enough, his hand lifted to rest on your cheek, eyes boring into yours as he searched your expression. “you okay?” Sukuna bit out, resisting the urge to move his hips even the slightest.

“s’ good, Sukuna. ‘m okay.”

he watched as the tension left your body and your gaze softened as you looked at him. with your cheeks already flushed, Sukuna thought he was the luckiest guy in the world to see you like this. “Ryomen. if I’m inside you, start calling me Ryomen.” he blurted before he could stop himself. not that he regretted it.

the corners of your mouth turned up, and if your heart wasn’t already racing it sure was now. “now, can we continue, Ryo?”

he was so fucking screwed.

“anything for you, princess.”

and so were you.

literally.

one roll of Sukuna’s hips, even slight, had you clawing at his shoulders. you felt like you were floating and being suffocated all at once, and he fared no better. he didn’t know it could feel like this, like it was… well, he didn’t know what, but it was fucking better than anything else.

his head dipped into your shoulder, sinking his teeth into your skin and groaning into the bite. you swear you felt full body chills as his hands continued to roam your body as his cock destroyed your cunt.

with each gentle thrust, Sukuna became more and more confident with your responses, and started to pick up his pace with ferocity. honestly, if he didn’t, he was going cum sooner than you and he couldn’t have that. “god, you feel s’ fucking good. can’t believe we haven’t done this sooner.” he cursed under his breath at one particularly brutal thrust that had your walls clenching around him even more than they already were.

“well – shit – you had to earn it.” even in your messed up state you stilled toyed with him, watching as he smirked back at your attitude before reaching a hand down between the two of your bodies. his fingers brushed against your clit, feather light and teasing, but it still sent shockwaves through you. “ah don’t be a fucking tease, Ryo. I’m sure you know better – fuck!”

a harsh pinch to the clit had you shutting your mouth, or at least moaning so loud it interrupted your sarcasm, and Sukuna grinned devilishly. “what were y’ sayin’?” he chided as he pinched the sensitive nub again, delighted to watch as your body heaved in reaction.

“fuck, ‘m sorry, just don’t stop!” your nails dug into the muscle of his bicep, desperately trying to keep it pinned in place so that he would continue to work his magic with his hand. “please, please keep going!”

Sukuna obliged, now circling your clit as his cock shoved harder inside of you – in out in out – at an almost inhuman pace. his hand gripped your hip so tightly you were sure there would be bruises from where he tried to keep you still while he fucked you senseless. you were so beautiful to look at that Sukuna couldn’t look way, eyes screwed shut and mouth wide open to release your honeyed moans, cunt sucking him in with each thrust.

when he felt your walls pulse and tighten, he knew you were close. and he prided himself in the knowledge that it was him getting you there. “you gonna cum, princess? all over my dick?” as you nodded fervently, he swept in and crashed his lips to yours, slipping his tongue inside your mouth and swallowing your moans as your release came crashing over you.

your cunt became like a vice, squeezing him to death as your body spasmed beneath him. the tightly wound band inside Sukuna’s abdomen was holding on by a single string, but he pulled away to watch you come undone.

“Ryo, please, want y’ to fill me up.” and fuck if he was going to argue with you. Sukuna slid both arms behind your back, wrapping around you to hold you still while his hips thrusted even harsher and faster than before, chasing his own high.

“say my name, princess. I’m gonna – ah shit – gonna cum. wanna cum inside this perfect pussy.” Sukuna was babbling at this point, and if he had any sense he’d hate himself for it but with a cunt this warm and good he couldn’t stop.

“fuck, Ryo!” you scratched your nails down his back harshly, pushing him off the edge. he let out a low, guttural groan as you felt him twitch inside of you, before you felt the warmth of his cum coating your walls and spilling out of you with the force of it.

once his balls started to ache, Sukuna pulled out and collapsed on the bed next to you. “holy shit.” he panted, wiping the sweat from his forehead and pushing his hair back. “that was –”

“– fucking phenomenal.” you finished for him, a cheesy grin spreading across your face as you started to chuckle. “hell, I think you enjoyed yourself more than me.”

“did not.” Sukuna growled lightly but you didn’t miss the corner of his mouth twitch upwards.

“did too. gonna have you pussy whipped now, right?”

you were only teasing, but when he glanced your way, his pupils were so dilated that his eyes looked nearly black. he gave your shoulder a playful shove, a loud laugh spilling from his lips. “maybe,” he said with a grin, “just maybe.”

you’d count that as a win.

before you could fire back another quip, Sukuna slid an arm around your waist, tugging you closer in one smooth motion.

“c’mere,” he murmured, the warmth in his voice betraying how much he enjoyed seeing you flustered.

his free hand guided you until you were nestled comfortably against him, the steady rise and fall of his chest lulling you into a sense of calm. it felt surprisingly natural—his larger frame, the solid press of his body, and the low, rumbling chuckle that vibrated through you when he realized you weren’t resisting.

“just maybe, huh?” you teased again, your cheek pressed to his shoulder.

he let out a soft snort, tightening his hold as if you might slip away. “shut up,” he grumbled good-naturedly, but the way his hand splayed against your back was anything but irritated.

⊹. ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . taglist : @mangiswig @sorahatake @osohchoso @clp-84 @sterzin @csolya @emochosoluvr @aldebrana @ravester @marie-is-in-the-dark @makingtimemine . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

[calitears]

sessions

3. turn it up!

story masterlist

tw/notes: cussing, drinking, slightly offensive jokes, small tiny manga spoilers (?) (it just mentions two characters who haven’t appeared in the anime yet doesn’t spoil the plot or anything)

as far as you knew, toge, panda, and yuji had stayed downstairs playing rounds of beer pong while you happily went with nobara upstairs. however it seemed god was on your side today as megumi tagged along behind you two, for whatever reason. you heard him mumbling under his breath something about not liking the taste of beer or even the actual game, but the reason seemed unimportant now as he sat next to you, alone, after nobara ran off saying she was going to go get another friend of theirs or something like that.

usually you’d be able to strike up a conversation, however you felt rather awkward as megumi seemed distracted on his phone, furrowing his brow slightly, typing away against the screen.

what could you ask him? his hobbies? what his favorite movie was? wait, didn’t yuta say something about them being in the same class? finally after another minute, he put his phone away and sighed, looking up ahead of him.

oh what the hell was there to lose, if you failed miserably you’d probably never have to directly meet him again anyway.

as you spoke up, you smiled slightly at the way his attention almost immediately turned to you.

“so… what do you do?” well you had a good chance, maybe, but what the hell type of question was that to start off with?

“what do i… do? like… job wise?” he questioned, a slight pout on his lip, but maybe they were just naturally like that.

“yeah.”

he shrugged slightly, before leaning back further into the couch, “i make music, go to college, have a job on the side too…”

“oh, cool- wait you made that song with yuji right?”

he internally cringed “no. don’t bring that up.”

you almost laughed at the way his expression soured almost immediately just by mentioning it.

“it wasn’t that bad…”

“you don’t have to spare me. don’t lie to my face, i know it was horrendous.”

“well… i haven’t heard any of your other stuff, but i’m sure you were just being nice to yuji to let him… y’know… on one of your instrumentals.”

“well i need to redeem myself then, i can’t have that as your only impression of my music.”

“y’know… we should trade…”

“trade?”

“i listen to yours, and you listen to mine…”

he seemed to think about something for a moment, before letting out a small huff.

“…and if i already listened to yours?”

now that caught you off guard.

“you have?”

he shifted slightly in his seat, and you could’ve sworn he leaned in closer, even by just an inch.

“yeah… actually got curious from yuji’s post with you. it’s pretty good just… it’s not usually the type i’d listen to, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad.”

smiling at him, you moved closer, yet he didn’t seem to move back at all, mostly just seeming amused. “oh, so you’re not into ‘pink princess pilates’ music?”

he scoffed, a small smirk forming on his face, “what type of ai generated spotify wrapped thing is that?”

“that’s exactly where i got it from actually, was one of my genres…”

“well… at least it sounds cute, i think it’s ‘fitting’, i got grouped into something called ‘abstract indie sleaze soundtrack moment’.”

“the hell does that even mean? sounds like a red flag honestly, maybe i should stop talking to you hear…”

“not gonna give me a chance then? thought yuji said you were into me?”

“oh my god did he seriously say that- can’t he keep a secret?”

he was about to respond, his expression still slightly playful until suddenly a voice cut in, and you saw a girl jump into the empty space next to him, sitting down. “fushiguro! it’s been too long!” she exclaimed. megumi seemed startled at first, but relaxed after another moment. “oh… hey hana.”

“i missed you- where have you been recently?” she continued, seemingly wanting to reach out and touch him, but hesitant to.

“just busy… work… college and stuff.” he replied, about to turn back to you to introduce you to what you hoped was just his friend, that is until yuji and nobara seemed to have finally caught up with you guys again. before you even got the chance to say goodbye to him, yuji was pulling you off the couch and dragging you away from the group.

“y/n real quick- sorry- but pleaseeee you need to dj for us or something- just for like half an hour at least!! you need to show off against this asshole!”

no context whatsoever to what was happening, you couldn’t even reject yuji’s offer as he basically dragged you towards the music booth.

outside the studio…

sigh… guys i don’t hate hana i actually think she’s a cutie and love her but i had to bring someone into that role… 😥😓😪

yuji such a feminist wanted to prove some guy who was drunkly babbling on about #womeninmusic wrong accidentally crashed the moment

y/n texted maki a sc of megumi’s instagram and she put two and two together immediately

megumi was actually just writing down a reminder to get in contact with y/n but nobara wanted to push him

idk why the gif drops qualities every time i use one hope it doesn’t bother anyone 💔💔💔

taglist (open)

@starrysho @anotherwriternamedclara @qtnfer @ist0leurc0ffee @missunrise @lovefromberry @beepbopzlorp @1l-ynn @gumims @vivienne-jo @s6rine @good-mourning0 @raquel12 @kasumitenbaz @susiekern @anngelllla @saekolust @wgafa @arrozyfrijoles23 @that-willowtree @restrictionsapply @wrldwyde @estella-novella

*feel free to ask in inbox, comment, or pm if you’d like to be added!!

*if your tag isn’t working pls change your settings or let me know!!

[hhghgt]

Eddie started painting, and his model is Buck

That’s how it started,

“You need time for yourself, Eddie. Not time as a dad or a firefighter—just time to be you, try something creative,” Frank suggested. “A hobby. Something that makes you feel... alive.”

Eddie thought about it for days, brushing off the suggestion. But one quiet evening, as he was cleaning out the garage, he found an old set of paints and brushes. The feel of the brushes in his hand sparked a memory of long-forgotten sketches and paintings he used to make in his teens.

It felt right.

The next day, he cleared a corner of the garage, set up an easel, and bought a blank canvas. He painted simple things at first—a mug, a chair—but it didn’t feel like enough. He needed something more dynamic, something challenging.

When Eddie mentioned this during a shift, Buck perked up.

“Why not paint a person?” Buck suggested, shrugging casually.

“Because I don’t have a person to paint,” Eddie replied.

Buck grinned, leaning against the kitchen counter. “You’ve got me.”

Eddie blinked at him. “What?”

“I’ll be your model,” Buck said. “C’mon, Eddie. You need practice, and I’m free most nights. Plus, I'm great sitting still.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but he found himself agreeing, if only to stop Buck’s incessant suggestions.

Shortly after that, their weekly session started

......

“You ready?” Eddie asked, forcing himself to focus.

“Always,” Buck replied with a grin.

But as Eddie glanced at him, his mind flashed back to Buck's teasing comment from the last session: “So, Eddie, should I get my clothes off?” It had been a joke then, but now at their 2rd session, with Buck sitting so still, staring at him with that sharp, focused gaze, Eddie couldn’t shake the thought. The memory made his pulse quicken.

Eddie was in the middle of painting, trying to focus on Buck’s posture, but his mind kept wandering. Buck had been sitting still, but there was something about the way his gaze was fixed on Eddie—sharp, unwavering—that made it impossible to concentrate.

Eddie’s brush moved over the canvas, but his eyes kept straying to Buck, taking in the way his shirt fit, the slight curve of his jaw, the way the light highlighted the sharpness of his features. Imagining him without his clothes how the light would.....

He’d forgotten the painting entirely, lost in the way Buck was staring at him.

The silence stretched, and Eddie’s heart raced. Buck hadn’t said anything—just stared back as if he has access to his thoughts. Eddie’s hand trembled, the brush faltering before it slipped from his grip, falling to the floor with a soft clink.

He blinked, snapping out of his daze, but when he looked at Buck again, he couldn’t hold eye contact. His chest tightened, and he suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious.

Buck chuckled softly. “You alright there?”

Eddie fidgeted, picking up the brush and avoiding Buck’s gaze. “Yeah, just—just stay still.” His voice was tight,

Few minutes went by Eddie stood frozen, his heart racing as he stared at the drawing of Buck, shirtless. His mind had been in a haze, caught between the act of painting and the growing awareness of how much Buck had come to mean to him. He hadn’t even realized what he was doing until he stepped back and saw the picture laid out in front of him.

Buck’s eyes were on him, quiet and intense. He stepped closer to the canvas, his gaze lingering over the detailed lines of his own form. When he turned to Eddie, there was something new in his expression—soft, yet charged.

“Well,” Buck said, crossing his arms casually, “if you wanted me to take my shirt off, you could’ve just asked.”

Eddie’s face burned. “Buck, stop,” he muttered, unable to look him in the eye.

Buck chuckled, stepping even closer. “What? You were clearly inspired.” He tilted his head, his grin widening. “Should I lose the jeans too? You know, for the sake of art.”

Eddie’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. “Buck,” he warned, his voice low, but his body betrayed him—his pulse was racing, his cheeks flushed.

Buck leaned in, the teasing smirk softening as his voice dropped to a whisper. “Relax, Eddie. It’s just me.”

That was it. Eddie couldn’t take it anymore. The mix of Buck’s teasing and the tension that had been building for weeks finally pushed him over the edge. Before he could think, before he could second-guess, Eddie grabbed Buck by the collar and pulled him in, silencing whatever Buck was about to say.

[gaystayzennie]

What’s Wrong Baby? (Full Length Vers.)

Felix x gn reader

Summary: Felix wakes up to you moaning in your sleep and decides to do something about it

Smut Warnings: Overstimulation, fingering, praise, squirting/ejaculation

12:49 am

Felix flipped over to his left side unable to sleep. He normally found your softly breathing next to him to be super relaxing, but tonight he just couldn’t get comfortable enough to relax and drift off, and you were partly to blame. You wouldn’t stop tossing and turning, and the noise was keeping Felix awake. Why won’t y/n fucking stay still oh my god He thought to himself.

1:36 am

Felix had drifted off at last. But y/n shifted in their sleep yet again running into Felix in the process. Your body was now pressed firmly against Felix’s causing him to wake up begrudgingly. He turned to face you and wrap his arms around you, pulling you in. He hoped you’d relax into his arms and stay still for the rest of the night. Y/n seemed to have other plans though as they shifted even closer so that he could now feel your breath against his chest. “Felix.” You whispered in your sleep. Felix sighed and stroked your hair knowing you were still half asleep and it was going to be a looong night for him. “Felix!” You said again in a an unmistakeable whiny voice. “Y/n?” He asked, “What’s wrong baby”? He figured you must be having a bad dream, so he continued stroking your hair in an attempt to soothe you…that is until you let out a quiet moan. Felix’s hand froze. Did he hear that correctly? Was his baby moaning in their sleep?

He sat up and looked down at your cute little face all scrunched up while you whined once more with your eyes squeezed shut. Careful not to wake you just yet, he slowly pulled the blanket off your body taking notice of the way you bucked your hips lightly. “Y/n” he whispered. “Wake up baby.” Y/n stayed fast asleep. Growing impatient, Felix decided he couldn’t wait any longer for you. After all, you’d kept him up all night already. Taking matters into his own hands, he scooped you up and began to make his way toward your shared bathroom, earning a frightened yelp from you. Now finally awake, you asked “Felix? What’s going on? Why did you wake me up?”

“Be patient baby. You’ll see” he said, stepping into the shower and turning it on. He walked back over to you and placed his lips on yours taking your bottom lip into his mouth, causing you to moan once more. Slowly, he made his way down your neck marking you up until he made it to the only article of clothing you wore to bed (his boxers), and tugged them off of you seeing that you were already wet for him after your sex dream and the make out session, and causing his own member to grow making a rather obvious tent. After removing his own boxers, he scooped you up again placing his arm around your waist, and he continued making out with you as he slowly backed into the shower.

Apologies again for taking FOREVER to post the full fic 😅 I kinda didn’t know how to write smut before… but here we go! Smut starts here—>

“Felix!” Is all you manage to get out before Felix has you slammed against the shower wall, water spraying you both as he does. His lips crash against yours and he slides his tongue into your mouth hungrily. Pulling away for a minute he comments “you taste so good love”. The water soaks his long blond locks and drips down his face, making him appear sexier by the second. He looks even better than he did in your dream.

“Lix” you moan out, “you look so fucking hot right now”. He responds by moving to suck on your neck again, pressing his thigh to your core to help you gain more pleasure. Your body responds immediately as you move to grind lightly against Felix’s thigh. The feeling it gives you makes you grow hornier and hornier until you can’t stand it. “Felix! Please. I need more” you say as you buck your hips in the air while he pulls away from your neck. “Whatever you need y/n” he replies, sinking to his knees.

Felix places a kiss against your core before beginning slow with a few kitten licks. You can barely stand it he’s being so slow and gentle. Attempting to gain more friction, you push your hips toward his face. “Be patient y/n” he scolds as he grabs your hips firmly to hold you in place. The veins in his forearms pop out slightly from the force behind his grip and the water continues dripping down his chin. All you can do is bite down on your lip to hold yourself back as Felix continues using his tongue painfully slow. Finally you feel his mouth speed up and he begins pushing you further into his mouth. He continues his assault with his lips and his tongue while practically growling around your core. You almost get whiplash with how quickly he’s changed the pace. It isn’t long before you’re warning him “Felix I’m so close. I’m gonna-“ your words are cut off when he suddenly rams his entire cock inside you causing you to finish all at once around his dick.

You scream out in pleasure… but Felix doesn’t let up at all. Instead he begins ramming into you hard and fast, using your cum as lube around his thick cock. “Felix! It’s too much” you whimper. “Aw is my baby a little overstimulated?” He growls out in his deep voice. “This is what you get for keeping me up all night. I’m gonna fuck you so good until you’re exhausted. How does that sound y/n?” Your body starts to go slightly limp in his grasp, but you manage to squeak out a quiet “yessir. I’ll do whatever you want Felix.” He smirks and manhandles you until your hands are pressed against the wall and your body is bent over so he can take you from behind. Your exhausted body is being held up by his strong arms, and you can’t help but feel turned on again by how dominant your boyfriend has suddenly become.

It isn’t long before you feel another orgasm building up. You can tell Felix is getting close too from the way his thrusts have grown more and more sloppy. Suddenly you feel the band snap inside you and you’re coming again around his hard cock. “Fuck y/n I can feel you squeezing my dick. It feels amaz-“ he gets cut off as his own orgasm hits him shortly after yours. He pulls out and grabs your chin, guiding you toward another passionate kiss. And before you can protest, his finger slides inside you. “Fuck!” You scream out, still feeling overwhelmed from your most recent orgasm. “Felix I don’t think I can cum again” you whine against his lips. “Think again baby. I bet you’ve got one more left in you.” You nod at him pathetically, knowing he won’t take no for an answer.

His lips wander all over your body, leaving marks on your neck. Then your chest. Then your thighs. Meanwhile his hand continues pumping in and out of you at a steady pace. Your legs shake as you try to hold yourself up, but you’re feeling more and more overstimulated. Seeing you struggle to stand, Felix moves back up to your lips and places another kiss before wrapping his free arm around your lower back for support. “Come for me baby. I can tell you’re getting tired” he whispers in your ear. Fuck. You feel your strongest orgasm washing over you and your vision begins to go black. You’re so lost in your own pleasure you don’t notice that you’ve just ejaculated all over Felix’s torso. You hear his giggle and snap out of it, finally opening your eyes. “That was amazing.” He says staring at your fluids all over his abs. His amusement then turns to concern as he looks at your tired and embarrassed face.

“Let’s get you cleaned up yeah?” You simply nod in response and let Felix take over. You continue to drift in and out of consciousness, but Felix holds you up and gently rinses you off in the shower before drying you off with a towel. He then carries you back to bed wrapped in his bath robe and tucks you in. “Goodnight y/n” he whispers. The last thing you remember is him placing a kiss to your forehead and telling you he loves you before you both doze off for real finally.

The end.

[kingkaizen]

Hello!! <3 I was wondering you can do Blue Lock x Kid! Reader? (Fluff), reader is about 10-11 years old

The plot is basically the blue lock allows children inside to train to become the next generation of Japanese soccer, reader is in the Bastard Munchen team for blue lock and then while reader is walking with some members of Bastard Munchen (specifically Isagi, Kaiser, Ness, and Yukimiya) to the cafeteria when suddenly they bump into a staff member which so happens to be reader’s biological dad. The dad is like “Oh hey there, sweet thing!” while reader is basically uncomfortable with their biological dad. Why? It’s because when reader was younger their dad would never take care of them and would sometimes lash out of them, which makes reader see him more of a stranger than a father. Isagi, Kaiser, Ness, and Yukimiya is like “back off bitch” because reader is CLEARLY uncomfortable with him. The dad does back off but sometime later in the locker rooms (all bastard Munchen members have clothes on) all of bastard Munchen are hanging out there when the dad goes into the locker room. Reader is now “fuck this shit I’m out” and hides behind one of members. All of them are like “Bro, LEAVE THEM BE” and when the dad says no, Noa gets involved with it and kicks him out. They basically now check up on reader and the rest is yours.

BRO I AM SO SORRY FOR COMPLICATING PLOTS 😭😭😭

— 💜 Anon (I would like to be anon please!)

∘ a/n: hiii 💜 anon, ty for this request. before you read, i do want to say that i did change some things up about your initial request just to make it more comfortable for me to write and make more sense in my head (although it doesn't change the overall meaning of your request). the reader is assumed to be around the same age as them and is a manager on the team. i hope you still enjoy <3

∘ ft: isagi, kaiser, ness, + kenyu

∘ includes: sfw, mentions of strained parental relationship

The halls of the Bastard München training facility buzzed with energy as you walked alongside Isagi, Kaiser, Ness, and Kenyu, a clipboard in hand. You’ve been keeping track of the teams’ statistics throughout the practice, which will be used in drills later on. The sharp scent of freshly cleaned floors mingled with the faint tang of sweat lingering from their practice session. The team was in high spirits, their camaraderie evident in the banter bouncing between them.

“You couldn’t score even if the net begged you to,” Kaiser quipped, a teasing grin tugging at his lips as he nudged Isagi’s shoulder.

“Maybe if you stopped playing and actually passed, we’d score double,” Isagi shot back, rolling his eyes.

“Calm down, both of you,” Yukimiya interjected, chuckling softly. “Save the arguing for tomorrow’s match.”

You laughed lightly, the sound blending into the easy rhythm of the group’s conversation. But the laughter died in your throat when you turned a corner and nearly collided with someone—a man whose presence felt as cold and intrusive as you remembered.

“Hey there, sweet thing!” The man’s voice was smooth, but it grated on your nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

You froze mid-step, stomach twisted into knots as you studied the man’s features. His scruffy beard, slightly wrinkled uniform, and overly familiar tone—all of it belonged to someone you’d long hoped to forget: your estranged father.

“What… what are you doing here?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, the words thick with unease.

The man shrugged casually, ignoring the tension in their posture. “Got myself a job here. Thought I’d finally get a chance to see how you’re doing. You’ve grown so much.”

The others immediately noticed the way you shrank back, their expression going pale.

Kaiser’s sharp eyes darted between the man and you before stepping forward, his voice dripping with disdain. “Who the hell are you, and why are you bothering (y/n)?”

“I’m (y/n)’s father,” the man replied, puffing out his chest as if the title alone gave him authority. “Is there an issue?”

“Yeah, there is,” Kaiser snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Ness stepped up beside him, his cold blue eyes narrowing. “(Y/n) clearly doesn’t want to talk to you. Take a hint and leave.”

Isagi and Yukimiya flanked you protectively, their presence reassuring yet firm. Isagi’s voice, though calmer than the others, carried an undeniable edge. “If they wanted to talk to you, they would’ve reached out. You should leave.”

The man hesitated, his jaw tightening as he glanced over at you. “We’ll talk later,” he muttered, his tone tinged with annoyance as he walked away.

As soon as he disappeared around the corner, you released the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Your hands trembled, heartbeat thundering in your ears.

“You okay?” Isagi asked softly, his gaze steady and concerned.

“I… Yeah,” you replied shakily, though the lie was evident in your voice.

The group exchanged worried glances but chose not to press further, instead walking silently toward the cafeteria.

…

The locker room was a sanctuary after grueling training sessions. The walls were lined with steel lockers, and the faint smell of detergent lingered in the air. After a quick meeting with the team, you decided to linger in the locker room with some of the guys from earlier. Perching yourself on one of the benches, you felt some of the earlier tension in your shoulders begin to relax. 

Kaiser leaned back against a row of lockers, tossing a soccer ball into the air with practiced ease. “Bet I could score on Noa tomorrow,” he said with his trademark smirk.

“You couldn’t even score on me,” Ness teased, earning a snort of laughter from Yukimiya.

You smiled faintly, your earlier discomfort fading into the background as you soaked in the light-hearted banter. But, the fragile peace shattered when the locker room door swung open with a loud creak.

Your father strode in, his presence as unwelcome as a storm cloud. “There you are,” he said, his tone too casual for the situation.

You felt your breath hitch, panic flashing through your mind. Without thinking, you moved to stand behind Kaiser, clutching the back of his jersey like a lifeline. Memories of your childhood began to flood your brain, the constant screaming, words of hate spewing from his lips. You haven’t fully healed from all of the constant pain that you had to endure, and seeing the person who caused it right in front of you did nothing to help that fact.

Kaiser stiffened slightly, then turned, his face darkening with fury. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m just here to talk to my kid,” the man replied, his voice dripping with feigned innocence.

“They don’t want to talk to you,” Ness said coldly, stepping forward with an expression so sharp it could cut glass.

“Get out,” Yukimiya added, his calm tone carrying an unmistakable edge.

You peered out from behind Kaiser, hands trembling. The protective wall formed by the team was reassuring, but the man’s presence still sent your nerves spiraling.

“You’re not welcome here,” Isagi said firmly, stepping closer to the man.

“This is between me and my kid,” the man said, his voice rising in irritation. “Stay out of it.”

Before the tension could escalate further, the door opened again.

Noa’s imposing figure filled the doorway, his piercing gaze sweeping over the room. The team fell silent, and even the father seemed momentarily taken aback.

“What’s going on here?” Noa asked, his voice low and authoritative.

The man opened his mouth to respond, but Noa’s icy glare silenced him. “You don’t belong here. Leave. Now.”

The man tried to argue, but Noa’s tone turned even sharper. “This is your only warning. If you don’t leave, I’ll have security handle it. Don’t come back unless you’re prepared for consequences.”

The man’s face twisted with frustration, but he finally turned on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him.

The silence in the locker room was deafening, broken only by the faint hum of the overhead lights. You slowly sank onto the bench, chest heaving as you struggled to steady their breathing.

Kaiser crouched in front of you, his voice surprisingly gentle. “Hey, you’re safe now. He’s gone.”

Isagi knelt beside him, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to deal with this alone. We’ve got your back.”

“Yeah,” Ness said, his usual sharp tone softening. “If he tries this again, he’ll regret it.”

Yukimiya offered a small, comforting smile. “We’re your team. No one gets to mess with you.”

Your vision blurred with tears, but their heart felt lighter than it had all day. “Thank you, all of you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Kaiser smirked, though his voice held genuine warmth. “Good thing you won’t have to find out.”

As the team resumed their lighthearted chatter, you realized they weren’t just teammates—they were family.

© kingkaizen | do not copy, steal, or duplicate!

[obsessedhoneycomb]

Cool Daddy Russell

George Russell x fem!reader

Summary: While watching your son grow up and supporting his racing career same as his father’s, you need to find balance in your family life. Being pregnant again, with the possibility of your husband retirement (he’s just joking, but you never know), it looks much easier this time.

Warnings: none, just love and pregnancy

A/N: To be honest, I really struggled with how to name this one. Started this between Christmas, when I saw some photos of George from earlier years of his career, and woke up today to finish it. I really love the idea of being pregnant with George, so… Enjoy it!

Please don’t use my writings without my permission! Pictures found on Pinterest.

———

As much as you adored your son, it was really exhausting to attend the races, now F3. Apart from your super successful husband George Russell, who was in his last years of the F1 career (as he liked to say for most of the time), you were the one to be with Alex, your fifteen year old son, at his races. He practically grew on the grid, when you were accompanying George through the seasons, his own desire to start karting grew rapidly, same as his feet out of his shoes.

Now you stood at the sideline, watching the practice session, where your son participated. George promised to make it, to jump from his tight schedule. Alex really wanted his father to be there, because this weekend he had the best chance to win a championship, being only a few points behind his leading teammate.

When you nearly lost a hope about George’s presence, he just appeared next to you with a wide and proud smile, looking over the track for the sign of his son.

“Well, hello, Mr. Mercedes.” You let out an amused chuckle at the nickname you used from the time he won his first F1 championship. His smile grew into a grin, kissing your cheek, while his hand rested on your baby bump.

“How’s our little girl doing?” Whispering into your ear, while he nuzzled his nose into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo he immensely loved, he still managed to hold his gaze over the track.

“She’s good, but mommy is tired.” You chuckled, enjoying the much needed closeness of his body.

“I know, I’m sorry. I tried to be here yesterday already, but you know how it goes..”

“That’s okay. Alex nearly had a panic attack and was about to lose his mind, at the idea of you not being here.”

You said it so casually, that it made George back off a little to look at you with concern.

“Well, happy to be here.”

The age gap between your kids really didn’t bother you, you were happy to be pregnant again after that long time, because there wasn’t time for parenthood with George’s hectic life. You spent so much time at the sidelines with your son, that idea of having another child hadn’t crossed your mind. You were grateful that your due date was at the end of the F1 season, when your son and husband will be home with you, waiting for arrival of a new addition to your family. What was worrying you more, was that with Alex possible move up to the F2, there would be no one to accompany him on his races as you did to this time.

“You’re worried again. What is it this time?”

George’s voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Just.. who will be with Alex next season? It surely can’t be me.” Your look dropped at your swollen belly.

George fixed his cap, thinking for a few moments, his face having that strange expression he always had, when he hid something from you.

“George?”

He looked at you, then over at the track, when he caught a glimpse of the car of his son’s team. Smiling proudly, he now stood in front of you, his left hand over your shoulder and the right over your belly.

“I wanted to tell you later, but.. I was thinking about it for a long time, I’m practically champion again, but it’s not as it used to be. Through those years I managed to win it for five times, and now I feel that it’s enough. That I want to spend more time with my family, with you. Time fly by so fast and I really don’t remember the last time we had a time for ourselves only. Oh, yeah, I remember, it was that night that resulted in you being heavily pregnant now.”

You let out a soft laugh, his smug smile flashing at you, caressing your belly proudly.

“So… what I’m trying to say is, that I want to retire. And I’ll be there for Alex next season. He’s gonna have the best couch he can get.”

Looking into your eyes, he tried to catch on your reaction. But you were shocked at first and then relieved.

“Finally..” you teased him with playful smile.

“Hey! I’m not that old.” George pouted innocently.

“Being nearly forty is not that old.” You were still making fun of him.

“Well, yeah, I was talking about retiring for past years, but it was just a joke. Now it’s not.”

Placing your hands over his cheeks, you kissed his nose sweetly, taking in his growing facial hair.

“You really plan on to stop shaving your face?”

“I look more cool now. Cool daddy Russell.”

George smirked and you just bursted into laughter.

“You’re surely daddy, but cool…”

“Little miss, you’re enjoying this too much, don’t you?”

“I love to tease you, baby.”

———

Alex stepped out of the car, his frustration clear, he was concerned about his performance next day, he needed to qualify on top positions to win a championship.

“Great job on the track, buddy.” George’s voice interrupted his thoughts, he couldn’t believe that his dad was there.

“Dad.. you’re here.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss your big weekend.”

George hugged him tight, always being proud of him, even though he didn’t score, he was still proud that name Russell was present at the motorsport.

Alex wrapped his arms around him too, nearly losing his emotions.

“But what if I won’t get it? What if I’m not good enough to be a champion?”

George gave him a reassuring pinch on his cheek with smile. Alex was like his carbon copy, but he had your eyes and smile.

“Son.. you were always enough and surely there’s always place for being even better, but don’t underestimate yourself. You’re strong, you have a great mind, you’re determined driver. I believe in you.”

“Thanks, dad. This means so much to me.”

“I’m proud of you already, Alex.”

You were watching them from afar with wide smile, happy to have your little family reunited.

———

With Alex’s F3 championship and George’s F1 championship now secured, you were ready for Christmas but also for the birth of your baby girl.

George’s retirement was wild, everybody on the grid was shocked but understanding. He was enjoying his time with the family, being glued to your side now, when the baby was about to come.

Day before Christmas your water broke and you went into labor, the birth being quick and easy, which was like a gift for you.

Laying on the hospital bed, propped against the pillows, your face being slightly exhausted, you were holding your baby girl against your chest, while she cooed from her sleep. George, sitting beside you, his finger caressing the small soft cheek of the baby, was smiling proudly. The room was quiet, holding the peaceful moment of the new life.

“Well… we named Alex after your best friend. So, what do we have in mind this time?”

You chuckled softly at the memory of naming your firstborn after Alex Albon.

“What about Charlotte?” George smiled, looking at you.

“Mmm… that sounds nice. Charlotte Russell. And who do we honour this time?”

“This name stuck in my mind lately. But some would say that it’s close to Charles Leclerc.” George rolled his eyes annoyed.

“Still not over that year he stole your championship?”

“I will never- hm. Even though you had a hard time birthing our baby, you have energy to tease me.”

You let out a soft laugh, kissing his cheek. “It wasn’t that hard. Quite easy.”

“Yeah. I saw it on your face.”

George scrunched his face in slight frown, his eyes now full of worry.

“I hate to see you in pain. Even though I’m making fun of it later. Because I’m trying to lighten up the situation.”

“I know you, George. I know that you care for me. But I’m good now. Healthy and safe, same as our little girl. I won’t be in this situation again.”

George gave you a mischievous smile. “You sure? With me home now, retired, I’m ready to give you more babies. I kinda like you pregnant.”

You gave him a feigned offended look saying ‘I just gave birth, are you kidding me?!’

He started to laugh, placing a soft kiss to your temple, looking down at their daughter.

“Don’t worry, just kidding. It’s up to you. I’ll be just a donor.”

“George!”

With your voice raised up, and his loud laugh, the baby started to cry again.

[rafeskai]

Game On | Gamer!Rafe Cameron x Gamer!Reader

Leveling Up

Summary: After your first game of Call of Duty with Rafe, what began as a casual gaming session quickly turned into a growing friendship. Rafe’s support and encouragement not only helped you improve but also gave you the confidence to explore a new world of gaming. When he introduced you to his squad, you found a place where you truly belonged, forming bonds with the group and deepening your connection with Rafe.

Pairings: gamer!reader & gamer!rafe

Warnings: N/A

Author's Note: Another random 'chapter' to this AU

The next day, you sat down at your console, still buzzing from your game with Rafe the night before. It was your first time playing Call of Duty, and you had to admit—having Rafe guide you through it had made all the difference. You didn’t expect much out of gaming, but somehow, it had turned into something more.

As you scrolled through your friend requests, you spotted a notification: killshotking had added you. You smiled, your heart skipping a beat. You had a feeling he might, but seeing it pop up made it real. You quickly accepted the request.

Almost immediately, a message popped up from him.

killshotking: “Yo, it’s Rafe. You on? Want to play again?”

You hesitated only for a second before typing back.

angelhunter201: “Definitely. You up for a rematch?”

A few seconds later, he replied with a thumbs-up emoji.

killshotking: “Let’s do it. I’ll invite you to the party.”

The sound of an invite popped up, and you joined the party chat, ready for round two. As the game loaded, Rafe's voice came through your headset, smooth as ever.

“Ready to kick some ass today?” he asked, his voice playful but with that underlying competitive tone.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you replied, your fingers gripping the controller with a little more confidence than before.

The match began, and this time, you were on your own a bit more, but Rafe still guided you when needed. There was something comforting about his voice, a mix of experience and encouragement that helped ease your nerves.

“Good job on the flank,” he praised after you took out an enemy trying to sneak behind your team. “You’re getting the hang of it fast.”

You felt a blush creep up on your cheeks, even though he couldn’t see it. “Thanks. I think I’m finally starting to understand the map a bit.”

The game flowed better this time, and you were making plays you hadn’t thought you could. Between the gameplay, you started talking more—asking Rafe how long he’d been playing, what other games he liked, and just getting to know him. You were still figuring out how to talk to him without sounding like a total noob, but Rafe seemed easygoing, never making you feel less-than.

“So, you’re pretty good at this,” you said between rounds, still not fully used to talking while playing. “How long have you been playing?”

“Been at it a while,” he replied casually. “Started when I was a teenager. It’s just kind of stuck with me.” He chuckled. “Kinda like a second job, but more fun.”

“You must be really good then. I’m still just trying to get the hang of everything.” You laughed lightly, not wanting to make it sound like you were fishing for compliments, but Rafe took it in stride.

“Hey, you’re killing it already,” he reassured you. “You might not realize it yet, but you’re picking it up fast. You should see the people I started with—no offense to them, but they weren’t as quick as you.”

You felt a rush of pride at his words. It was easy to get lost in the game, to forget how new you were when Rafe made you feel like a natural.

As the match wrapped up—another win for your team—you noticed that you weren’t just feeling good about the game. The conversations between rounds, the joking back and forth, had been... fun. You found yourself smiling more than you had in a while.

“So, uh…” You hesitated a little, not sure how to make the transition, but you figured it was worth a shot. “Do you have Discord? I was thinking it might be easier to chat there.”

There was a brief pause on the other end. You were starting to regret asking when Rafe’s voice came through, casual and a little surprised.

“Yeah, I do. That’s actually a great idea. It’d be easier than the in-game chat.” He sounded like he was already pulling up his app. “I’ll send you my handle.”

He quickly sent over his Discord username, and you added him right away. The second he accepted, the familiar ping of a new message appeared.

killshotking: “Yo, you good to play again soon?”

You quickly typed back, excited at the thought of playing with him again, but also eager to chat more outside the game.

angelhunter201: “I’m down. I’ve got some free time today if you want to team up again.”

The conversation flowed easily in Discord, and for the first time, you felt like you were building something more than just a gaming partnership. Rafe wasn’t just a player to you; there was something about him that made the whole experience feel different. He was kind, laid-back, but also competitive—exactly the kind of person you could enjoy spending time with, whether it was playing or just talking.

The next few hours passed in a blur, more games, more conversation, and as you logged off for the night, you couldn’t help but feel like you had just started something new.

You’d gone from a nervous newbie to someone who was excited to game again with someone who wasn’t just a teammate but maybe even a new friend... or something more.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The next couple of weeks felt like a blur, but in the best way possible. You and Rafe had quickly settled into a rhythm of gaming together. What started as a casual invite to play Call of Duty turned into nightly gaming sessions, each one filled with laughs, playful banter, and some surprisingly deep conversations in between rounds.

You had learned so much from him—not just about the game but about life in general. Rafe had a laid-back attitude, but there was an undercurrent of determination in everything he did, whether it was playing a match or talking about his goals outside of gaming. It was that same energy that made you keep coming back, eager to talk to him and team up again.

One evening, as you logged in for another session, Rafe had a surprise for you.

"Hey, got a minute before we queue up?" he asked, his voice casual but with a hint of excitement.

"Yeah, what's up?" you replied, adjusting your headset.

"So, my boys are on tonight. Figured I’d invite you to squad up with us." He paused, adding, "I think you're ready to hang with the crew."

You hesitated for a moment. It was one thing to game with Rafe, but meeting his friends—especially if they were anything like him—was a whole different level. You hadn’t expected to be introduced to anyone else, but it seemed like Rafe trusted you enough to bring you into his circle.

"Uh… sure, why not?" you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. "I’m down."

"Sweet," Rafe responded with a grin you could practically hear through the mic. "It’s gonna be fun. Just hang tight."

Within a minute, you were in a party chat with Rafe and three other people. You could hear them laughing and chatting already, their voices blending into one cohesive, casual atmosphere.

"Alright, guys," Rafe spoke up, and the chatter quieted down a bit. "This is (Y/N). She’s been playing with me for a while now, and I think she can hold her own. (Y/N), this is Topper, Kelce, and JJ."

“Yo, welcome!” Topper’s voice came through loud and friendly. "Glad to have another one in the squad."

"Hey, hey," JJ added, a bit more laid-back but still welcoming. "Don’t worry, we go easy on the newbies. For the most part."

Kelce’s voice followed, quieter but still friendly. "Glad to meet you. Let’s see what you’ve got."

You smiled to yourself, feeling instantly at ease with their friendly, easygoing banter. Rafe had definitely picked a good group of people to hang out with. You quickly introduced yourself, and the group dove right into the match.

As the game progressed, you found yourself getting comfortable with the group dynamic. JJ’s dry humor kept everyone laughing between rounds, while Kelce was surprisingly tactical, always offering suggestions on strategy. Topper was the most competitive, always pushing everyone to play harder, but you could tell he respected the effort each person put in. And Rafe—well, Rafe was still your go-to teammate, always ready to guide you and make sure you felt included.

It wasn’t long before you had your own little moments with each of them. You had a blast joking with JJ, asking Kelce for tips on how to play smarter, and even getting a competitive streak going with Topper. But the best part? You felt like you were becoming one of the boys—like you’d found your place in this tight-knit group. Rafe had made sure of that, introducing you as a real member of the squad and not just a tagalong.

That night, after an especially intense match where your team pulled off a clutch win, Rafe messaged you on Discord.

killshotking: "See? Told you they’d like you. You fit right in with the crew."

You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face.

angelhunter201: "Honestly, I didn’t expect to get along so well with everyone. You guys are great."

angelhunter201: "Yeah, we’re a good bunch. And you’re holding your own out there, so that makes you one of us for sure."

You felt a little burst of pride at that. It felt good to be accepted, not just as a gamer but as part of a team—part of Rafe’s circle.

The following weeks were a whirlwind of late-night gaming sessions. You had started to improve drastically, and the more you played with Rafe and his friends, the more you started to feel like you truly belonged in their group. It wasn’t just about the game anymore—it was about the camaraderie, the inside jokes, and the way Rafe always had your back.

As you spent more time with them, you couldn’t deny that something had shifted. Your connection with Rafe had grown deeper. There were those little moments during gameplay where you’d catch him looking out for you, giving you an extra boost of confidence or a tip to help you improve. You weren’t sure if it was just the way he was, or if there was something more there, but you couldn’t ignore the way your heart raced when he smiled or the way your stomach fluttered when he complimented you on a play.

One evening, as the game wrapped up and the team started to log off, you stayed behind, wanting to talk to Rafe.

“Hey,” you started, feeling a bit nervous. “You, uh… you’ve been really cool to me. I just wanted to say thanks for introducing me to the crew. It’s been a blast.”

Rafe chuckled, his voice warm and easy. “Of course, (Y/N). You fit in with us. You’ve earned your spot, no question.”

You felt that familiar flutter again, but you brushed it off. “I guess I’ve still got a lot to learn, huh?”

“Don’t worry,” Rafe said, his tone softening. “We’re all learning. Just having fun along the way.”

You smiled, but this time, it wasn’t just about the game.

The connection between you and Rafe was becoming undeniable, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it might look like outside of the game, in the real world. But for now, you were content—content with your spot in the group, and more importantly, content with the way you and Rafe had begun to level up, both in the game and in getting to know each other.

© 2025 rafeskai | All rights reserved. My work is a work of fiction inspired by different characters, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[redux-iterum]

Charred Legacy: Chapter Forty

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Whitecloud, taking after his predecessor, wasted no time. The Clan was back to work and hunting as much and as safely as possible. Apprentices (except for Aspenpaw, of course, by her own will) were permitted to travel in the southern part of the territory, so long as they were accompanied by a warrior. The apprentices were quite happy about this—though, try as they might, they couldn’t encourage Brightpaw to leave camp for anything more than making dirt. Any reports on potential dog-scents sent shivers down the marred molly’s body and she would shut down into silence. Frostfur stayed close to her, watching the entrance of camp like a dog was about to burst through and slaughter them all.

But it seemed the dogs were content with their carnage, at least for now; the one Fireheart had encountered was not seen again, its scent fading away with the piling snow. No massive pawprints littered the ground, no barks in the daylight… perhaps they had returned to the Houses, or wandered into another territory. Whatever the case was, everyone hoped, they would stay away as long as possible, if not forever.

Fireheart was, oddly, asked quite frequently about this by Whitecloud. He and Dustpelt, when not training their apprentices, were kept busy by leading patrols or by helping organize sessions for the apprentices to practice outside of camp without being in danger. Fireheart wasn’t bothered by it, but he was a bit curious about the very keen way Whitecloud looked at him and Dustpelt.

Dustpelt was fortunately in his element—he’d have answers before Fireheart could digest the questions, and went to work as soon as Whitecloud dismissed him. But in his downtime, Fireheart noticed his steps becoming more jittery, his tail tapping the ground where he sat as he chewed air. It was a very strange switch, and Fireheart didn’t know what to do with it or how to help.

One night, before they had even eaten breakfast, Whitecloud called the toms to him again, sitting by the elders’ den while One-eye and Halftail dozed inside the fallen log.

The deputy blinked at them in greeting. “Fireheart, how did the patrol you ordered last night find the Sycamore’s part of the territory?”

“Oh– right.” Fireheart straightened up, having the faint sense of being quizzed. “Mousefur said that they couldn’t find traces of anything over there. No dog, but no prey either. They stayed out as long as they felt safe, so they came in late.” He paused, blinking himself. “...I thought I told you that last night?”

“You did,” Whitecloud said. “But I wanted Dustpelt to hear it, too.” He turned to the brown tabby now. “You approached me earlier with questions about tonight’s patrols. What do you think about that news?”

Dustpelt cleared his throat, nodding curtly. “I hesitate to be overly optimistic, but we’ve gone quite a while without a new scent in the north. I think that we can potentially send a scouting patrol towards the Houses and check to see if they’ve made the neighborhood their home.”

“And if we don’t scent them there?” Whitecloud looked at Fireheart.

Fireheart tilted his head thoughtfully. “Then the other options are that they’re in another Clan’s territory. I don’t think they’ll head into the Aulmir, not with so many humans there.” He sighed. “I thought humans would help us here, but I guess the dogs are just as wary as we are.”

“Unfortunately,” Whitecloud agreed. “Then what do you two think our next move should be?”

Fireheart hummed, thinking.

Dustpelt was the first to speak. “I think our next move is to keep hunting where we can, but we should keep our patrols the same size and keep apprentices close to camp until we can confirm the dogs are gone for good.”

“Yeah…” Fireheart looked at Dustpelt. “Having them train in the south has been fine for now, but I think you’re right. We should train them closer to home if we can help it—at least, if we have even a hint of the dogs coming back. We pushed our luck too hard before, and, well… that cost us a lot.”

Dustpelt’s eyes darkened, but he simply nodded again.

Fireheart added to Whitecloud, “Not to mention that I think Brightpaw will feel better if her brothers and friends are around her to keep her company. She needs to have some sense of safety if we want her to recover from her trauma.”

Whitecloud gave him a contemplative look. “Is that a new idea?”

“Well, I just noticed she’s a little more relaxed when Cloudpaw or Cinderpaw are around to eat with her and tell her about their night.”

“That is true.”

“If she’s watching them train, she might want to get back to it herself.” Fireheart’s eyes flicked down to the ground unhappily. “I can see she’s feeling powerless to the dangers of the world outside of here. She flinches if anyone brings up something like poisonous plants or a stray owl they saw overhead.”

Dustpelt regarded him with surprise. “I never noticed that.”

“I’m glad you did, Fireheart,” Whitecloud said, eyes glittering. “It’s important to have an eye on all of your Clan, not just your closest friends.”

There was that keen look again. More importantly, there was apprehension on Duspelt’s face. The way he glanced at Fireheart was… weirdly afraid? About what?

“I have another question for you two,” Whitecloud said, both younger toms jolting and refocusing on him. “What should we do about border patrols? We haven’t had any in a long time, and our scents are sure to have faded by now.”

“Er…” Fireheart hesitated, wondering if Whitecloud would accept his thoughts. “I don’t think that really matters at this point.”

Dustpelt gave him a baffled look, but Whitecloud leaned forward a little in interest. “Why not? Shouldn’t we make sure everyone knows where our borders are?”

“If they don’t know by now, then there’s no helping them,” Fireheart said with a twitch of his whiskers. “The other Clans aren’t idiots, sir. They know the forest is ours. We already have the land split up by the river, and it’s clear where the treeline stops. ShadowClan has no reason to come over here, and the kittypets and loners are scared to even sniff a fern sticking out over the border.” He stood a little taller, more confident at the piqued curiosity on Dustpelt’s face. “Besides that, we shouldn’t risk wandering all around the entire territory, where a patrol could be found by the dogs, just to mark a bush or two. And wouldn’t that give the dogs a scent to go on? Or at the very least, something that tells them we’re still here and can be killed.”

Whitecloud and Dustpelt watched him in an almost impressed manner. Fireheart briefly fought the urge to look down sheepishly and just met Whitecloud’s eyes.

“You’re making more sense than I anticipated with that idea,” Dustpelt said, and now to Whitecloud, “At the very most, a hunting patrol could check on the border if their trail leads them there, but Fireheart’s right. We can probably do without testing our luck, especially when the dogs might be close by.”

Whitecloud slowly nodded, his voice carrying the faintest purr. “Very good. I’ll concede to that; hunting patrols only for now, and we’ll see how that goes. Why don’t you two get something to eat? I’ll get some patrols going, and I’d like you to train your apprentices later.” His eyes crinkled. “In camp, if that’s better.”

“Yes, sir,” the young toms said together, both dipping their heads respectfully.

Whitecloud dismissed them with a tail-wave before turning and walking away, heading over to Willowpelt. Fireheart shook out his pelt, flinging some antsy energy off of him like water droplets, and trotted for the prey-pile, dimly aware of the now-awake One-eye and Halftail peering at him and Dustpelt.

The prey-pile was thankfully larger than normal, and Fireheart caught sight of a mole. Thin though it was, he scooped it up and turned around to eat with Greystripe and Ravenwing, only to see an unsettled Dustpelt right behind him.

“Mind if I eat with you?” he asked, voice low.

“Uh…” Fireheart blinked. “No, that’s fine.”

Dustpelt moved past him, picked up a rat, and gestured with a tilt of the head for Fireheart to follow him. They made their way over to the lonesome corner of camp, across from a curious Ravenwing and Greystripe, and crouched down. Fireheart settled his mole between his paws and was about to take a bite when his eye caught sight of Dustpelt rolling his rat forward and backward in front of him, his jaw clenched.

Fireheart kept his voice muted. “Are you okay?”

Dustpelt didn’t answer at first, rolling a few more times, before turning his head with lizard-like quickness, his eyes wide and stressed. “Can I tell you something?”

Fireheart tilted his head. “Of course.”

“And you won’t repeat it to Whitecloud?”

Fireheart sensed trouble. “Y…yeah, of course. What’s…?”

Dustpelt jerkily glanced around, like he was expecting Whitecloud to be standing right over them, then leaned in towards Fireheart’s head and whispered, “I don’t really want to be leader.”

Fireheart squinted a bit, confused.

“I know what Whitecloud’s doing.” Dustpelt glanced in the direction of the tom in question, now talking to a group of cats that were assumedly a patrol. “He’s testing us to see which one he wants to make his deputy.”

Fireheart almost gasped and leaned closer, eyes wide. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Dustpelt whispered. “That’s why he’s been talking to us so much and having us organize patrols. He probably didn’t even intend to have border patrols, since he’s only been giving out hunting ones; that was just a test to see how we’d respond.” His tail tapped nervously on the ground, ever-so-slightly bristling. “He needs a young deputy who works hard and will be around for a long time after he’s gone. We’re his best options, so he’s been focusing on us.”

It took a long moment for the words’ implications to sink into Fireheart’s mind. When they did, he jolted and hissed frantically, “Wait, he thinks I’m an option? How does he—”

Dustpelt’s own tense air dissipated for a moment for him to give the shorter warrior a deadpan look. “Fireheart, you’ve been taking on deputy tasks since Bluestar started losing her mind, and everyone but Darkstripe listens to you. Of course you’re an option.”

Fireheart fumbled out several attempts at an argument or denial before giving up and staring at the ground. Shock seemed to have paralyzed his tongue.

“The only problem is that we haven’t finished training our first apprentices,” Dustpelt went on, musing to the ground as well. “I know there’s a loophole in the law that lets a young cat into the deputy rank so long as they’re on the path to successfully raising an apprentice, though I don’t remember exactly where. Thornpaw and Cloudpaw are both doing really well—yeah, I’ve seen him, Fireheart, don’t give me that look—so as far as Whitecloud’s concerned, they’re already warriors.”

Fireheart finally found his voice. “But… but I’m not even two years old, and you’re hardly older.”

“That’s the gamble.” Dustpelt looked up at him, almost relieved at the distress that must be on Fireheart’s face. “We haven’t been tested by life yet. Not in the way a senior warrior has. We’ve got a lot of capacity to make mistakes, just because we’re so inexperienced.” Another less-than-subtle glance at Whitecloud. “But on the other paw, we’re young enough for Whitecloud to be confident ThunderClan will have a leader and stability for a long time after he’s gone. He’s not all that young, you know—he needs someone who won’t die so quickly after him. Or before him.”

Fireheart didn’t say anything. He couldn’t find anything to say. His head was whirling with disbelief, shock, and a healthy dose of fear.

Dustpelt dropped his voice even lower. “I mean… look, I want to serve my Clan however I can. I’ll do anything for ThunderClan, and I know you will too. But… stars, the idea of having to stand on the boulder at Fourtrees, or lead a battle, or– or make such huge decisions…” He shivered. “I don’t think I can do that. I really don’t.”

This, at least, Fireheart could respond to. “You’re a lot more capable than you think, Dustpelt. Anyone could see that, even if you don’t.”

Dustpelt weakly attempted a chuff. “Well, thanks, I guess, but still. I’d rather just be a normal warrior who can lead a patrol and have that be the end of it.” He peeked at Fireheart, apprehensive. “And it looks like you’re not very eager to take on the role either.”

Fireheart stared down at his mole, giving himself a long moment to absorb and address his thoughts, which were mostly screamed questions about how in the world Whitecloud saw anything in him that could put him in such an important rank.

“I feel about the same as you,” he said at last, looking back up at Dustpelt. “I can’t imagine becoming leader—not me being who I am. I’m a kittypet from the Houses, and, well… I can’t see everyone following me, when they have much better options.”

“That’s the thing,” Dustpelt said. “We are the better options. Can you imagine Teaselfoot or Mousefur being leader? Or even Willowpelt?”

“…Fair point.” Fireheart watched Whitecloud pad away out of camp. “I guess… if I had to, I’d do it. I’d like to take care of my Clanmates however I can.” He shuddered, a bit more jokingly than sincerely. “But having me on the boulder next to Rookstar and Blackstar… they’d all be staring at me, thinking ‘What is this runt doing in ThunderClan’s spot?’.”

Dustpelt did chuff a bit more humorously at that. “Crookedstar would make so many jokes.”

“Which is why you’re the better choice.” Fireheart tapped his side with his tail. “At least then, ThunderClan would be taken seriously.”

“Yeah, right up until I stutter and stumble over my words.”

“You haven’t stumbled over a word in your life.”

“And you haven’t disobeyed the code or your superiors a single time, then?”

Fireheart sniffed. “Hey, I just do what’s right. It’s not my fault if someone disagrees with me.” Realization hit him and he shook his head. “Honestly, that’ll probably get me disqualified. I’ve broken and helped break a lot of Clan rules.”

Dustpelt rolled his eyes, his anxiety gone. “Must be why everyone’s telling Whitecloud, ‘You’re making a mistake, you should exile Fireheart right now for not letting Lionface scare off elders’.”

“That was—”

“I’m joking, ant.” Dustpelt gave him an amused look. “It seems like pretty much every time you’ve broken a rule, it works out in your favor. Did you even get in trouble for disobeying Lionface?”

Fireheart shook his head. “Or for hunting for RiverClan—er, honestly, before we had to. I mean, that was Greystripe’s idea, but I went along with it.”

“I knew it,” Dustpelt hissed to himself, slapping the ground with a paw. “I knew there was no way Lionface and Bluestar would’ve ever given them food on their own.”

Fireheart stared at him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I’m not going to question our leader and deputy!” Dustpelt’s whisper got a bit louder while still fighting to stay quiet. “Sandstorm said you must’ve come up with the idea yourself, because that’s such a ‘you’ thing to do. But Greystripe did it first?”

“He felt bad for his friends,” Fireheart admitted. “He explained himself to me and Ravenwing, and I thought it was a good idea, so I helped.”

“No wonder RiverClan likes you so much.” Dustpelt shook his head in a humorously-disappointed way. “Well, if you become leader, maybe they won’t fight for Sunningrocks anymore. They’ll be your best buds and just happily pass it over if you ask nicely.”

Fireheart snorted. “There’s advantages to being kind, you know.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen that with you.” Dustpelt’s whiskers twitched as he bent his head to start on his rat.

The conversation seemed to be at a positive end, so Fireheart was content to eat, too, but he didn’t miss his friends staring at him. Greystripe said something under his breath to Ravenwing, which, if Fireheart was reading his lips right, was, “What in the world is going on over there?”

[faithsotherhouseofchaos]

I’ve got your back|| Charles leclerc x male reader

Word count 1775

@crispysoup318 here’s one

The sound of the engines roaring around the track echoed through Charles' chest as he sat in the stands, his gaze fixed on the cars speeding past. But his attention wasn’t on the race; it was on him—Y/N.

Max's older brother. The one who could’ve been great.

For years, Charles had watched from the sidelines as Y/N, despite his obvious talent, kept himself from rising through the ranks of racing. Every time they’d go karting, every practice session, Y/N would leave everyone in the dust—except for Max. The family dynamic was always clear. Their dad, a former racer himself, was invested in Max. Obsessed with Max.

But Y/N? He was always the silent presence in the background, holding back in ways that didn’t make sense to Charles at first. There was something about Y/N’s racing that seemed... off. Too controlled, too careful, like he was playing a different game entirely. Charles hadn’t realized why until recently.

It was after one of the practice races, as he sat next to Y/N on the cool metal bleachers, watching Max celebrate his victory with their dad, that it clicked.

“Y/N, why didn’t you go for the win?” Charles had asked, his brow furrowing.

Y/N gave him that knowing smile, one that always seemed to hide more than it let on. “Because he needs to be the one who shines. Max... he’s the one Dad focuses on. You know that.”

Charles stared at him, confused. “But you— you could’ve taken that first place. You’ve always been better than me, better than Max.”

Y/N’s gaze shifted toward the ground, his voice quiet. “Sometimes the best thing you can do is step back.”

Charles frowned, his mind racing. “But why? Why hold back? You could’ve been in Formula 1 by now. Why give that up?”

Y/N was silent for a moment, the weight of the years they’d spent together suddenly sinking in. “Because, Charles, if I push too hard, Dad would want me to push Max harder, too. And Max isn’t ready for that. He’s not me. I’d rather see him succeed than risk seeing him burn out.”

Charles was stunned. He hadn’t realized how much Y/N had sacrificed—not just his dreams, but his entire future—for the sake of his younger brother. It wasn’t just about racing. It was about family, about love, about keeping Max safe.

And it broke Charles’ heart.

The thought of his older brother never having the chance to race for real, to chase that Formula 1 dream, made him feel a sharp ache in his chest.

"That's... that's really something, Y/N," Charles said quietly, feeling an overwhelming surge of admiration for the older brother he'd never truly understood before.

Y/N shrugged, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It’s what family does, right? You put them first.”

But Charles wasn’t sure if that was enough anymore.

He’d never be able to do what Y/N had done. He would never have the strength to hold back when it mattered, to throw away his own potential for someone else. Y/N had given everything, and Charles had only just realized it.

And now, watching Y/N quietly fade into the background again, Charles made a decision.

“I’m going to help you, Y/N,” Charles said suddenly, surprising even himself. “I don’t know how yet, but I will. I won’t let you fade into the background.”

Y/N looked over at him, a surprised yet knowing look crossing his face. “Charles, you don’t need to—”

“I know,” Charles interrupted, his voice firm. “But I want to.”

Y/N gave a small chuckle, ruffling Charles' hair. “You don’t have to do anything for me, kid. You’ve got your own career to focus on.”

Charles didn’t reply, his mind already planning how he could work in the shadows, how he could help his brother rise again without anyone noticing. Without Max ever knowing.

He wouldn’t let Y/N’s sacrifices be in vain.

And maybe, just maybe, they could still achieve the dream Y/N had set aside for so long.

Over the next few weeks, Charles found himself subtly changing the way he approached his time with Y/N. Every practice session, every karting weekend, he was paying more attention—not just to his own racing, but to his older brother’s every move.

It wasn’t hard to see how much Y/N was holding back. He wasn’t just playing it safe; he was actively limiting his own performance, choosing more cautious lines, braking earlier, and settling for second or third place when he easily could’ve taken the win.

It frustrated Charles more than anything. Watching Y/N squandering his potential, doing exactly what he’d done his entire life: taking a step back for the sake of someone else.

And it made Charles feel helpless. He wanted to shout, to demand that Y/N race to his fullest, that he deserved more than the life of a background player. But he couldn’t. He understood now why Y/N was doing it. He’d made that sacrifice for Max—and maybe even for their father. It wasn’t just about being in the spotlight; it was about keeping the family dynamic intact.

But Charles wasn’t going to let it go on forever.

One night, after a particularly difficult race where Y/N had barely edged out Max for a second-place finish, Charles made up his mind. He needed a plan. He needed to help Y/N, even if he had to do it in secret.

"Y/N," Charles said casually as they were cleaning up their gear, the two of them alone in the garage. Max was off with their dad, discussing strategies for his next race. "Have you ever thought about going to some of those off-season testing events? The ones where they bring in reserve drivers, or... younger talents?”

Y/N gave him a sideways glance, his expression unreadable. “I’ve been to a few. A long time ago. But you know as well as I do, they won’t give me the time of day. Not with Max in the picture.”

“I think you’re wrong.” Charles smiled, trying to hide the excitement bubbling up in him. “What if I can get you into one of those events? Just a test run, no pressure. I’ll set it up.”

Y/N gave him a bemused look. “And how exactly are you going to pull that off? You don’t have the connections—"

Charles leaned in closer, his voice low but confident. "I do now."

For the next few weeks, Charles worked quietly behind the scenes, making calls and sending messages to everyone he knew—engineers, team managers, even his own contacts within the F1 world. It wasn’t easy. Y/N wasn’t exactly a household name, and most people were only interested in the young stars, not a 25-year-old with years of untapped potential. But Charles didn’t care about the odds.

He couldn’t let Y/N’s talent slip away, not when he knew what his brother could truly do.

It was a month later when Charles finally received the response he’d been waiting for—a private testing session for a mid-tier team looking to give fresh talent a shot. It wasn’t Formula 1, not yet, but it was a step in the right direction. A foot in the door.

He waited until the perfect moment, when Y/N wasn’t expecting it, and told him about the opportunity.

“Y/N, I got you a test with an F1 team. You’re going to drive at their private session next week.”

Y/N blinked, looking at him as though Charles had just said something absurd. “What?”

“I did. You’re driving for them next week.”

At first, Y/N didn’t believe it. He laughed, like Charles was making a joke at his expense. But the more Charles pushed, the more he explained how hard he’d worked to arrange it, how he’d bent a few rules and called in a few favors, the more Y/N’s expression shifted from confusion to disbelief to... gratitude.

But even then, Y/N hesitated. "Charles, you know I’m not—"

“You are ready,” Charles cut him off, standing firm. “I know it. I know you could’ve made it into F1 years ago if you’d wanted to. I won’t let you give up on it.”

There was a long silence. Then, slowly, Y/N nodded, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. "Alright. But you better not tell Max about this. He’ll never forgive me if he finds out.”

Charles grinned. “Deal.”

The week of the test, Y/N’s nerves were palpable, though he tried to hide them. As they stood by the track, Charles watched him suit up, a wave of pride crashing over him. His brother was about to show the world what he could really do—and no one would know who had pushed him there.

Charles knew it wasn’t enough just to get Y/N the test. The hard part was making sure Y/N knew he had someone in his corner. Someone who believed in him—not as the background player or the second-best brother, but as the talented, driven racer he’d always been.

The test went better than Charles could have hoped. Y/N drove like he was born for it. Fast, fearless, and precise, he outpaced every expectation. By the end of the session, the team’s engineers were already talking about bringing him back for more testing.

But Charles didn’t want to get ahead of himself. This wasn’t the finish line. This was just the beginning.

As they packed up to leave, Y/N clapped him on the shoulder, a grateful, somewhat overwhelmed look in his eyes.

“Thanks, Charles,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what to say... I didn’t think I’d ever get a shot like this.”

Charles smiled, the weight of the unspoken promise hanging between them. “You don’t have to say anything. Just keep driving. I’ll make sure you get there.”

The next few months passed in a blur. Y/N’s performance in the test had caught the attention of several teams, and before long, he was back on the radar. Charles helped when he could, keeping things quiet and making sure that Y/N’s success stayed under the radar. Max never knew what had really happened. And Y/N, though hesitant, slowly began to believe that maybe—just maybe—he could make it to Formula 1 after all.

But it wasn’t just about racing anymore. It was about a bond between brothers, one that went beyond the track. A bond that said: I’ve got your back, no matter what.

[glowettee]

study motivation notes | by mindy @glowettee

hi angels! ✨ i've been getting so many sweet messages about staying motivated with studies, and i wanted to share my thoughts with all of you. as someone who dreams of becoming both a doctor and ceo (yes, we can do both!), i understand how overwhelming academic pressure can feel.

let me tell you something that changed everything for me: motivation isn't just about forcing yourself to study - it's about falling in love with your future. when i feel tired or discouraged, i close my eyes and imagine future me in a white coat, helping patients while running my own healthcare (or journaling + skincare) business(es).

this vision keeps me going even during the hardest days. the secret to staying motivated isn't just about having perfect study schedules or aesthetic notes (though i do love my pink highlighters and cute sticky notes!).

it's about understanding why you're doing this. my psychology studies have taught me that intrinsic motivation - the kind that comes from within - (i've talked about this before) is so much stronger than external pressure. i've noticed that on days when i feel completely unmotivated, it's usually because i've lost touch with my 'why'.

so i take a moment, light my favorite vanilla candle, and write in my journal about my dreams. sometimes i even create little vision boards on pinterest (my current one has hospital corridors next to business magazines - yes, i'm that girl!). here's something i've learned in my past ap psychology class: our brains love small wins. instead of thinking "i need to become a doctor," which feels huge and scary, i break it down into tiny goals. today's win might be understanding one biology concept really well, or finishing one chapter of my business studies. these little victories create dopamine releases that keep us motivated!

i've also discovered that environment matters so much. i created a cute study corner in my room with soft lighting, my favorite plushies, and inspirational quotes. when i sit there, my brain automatically goes into study mode. it's like my own little med school prep sanctuary! remember angels, it's okay to have bad days. sometimes i cry over calculus (literally me yesterday), and that's totally fine! the key is to be gentle with yourself while staying committed to your dreams.

i like to think of myself as both the student and the cheerleader - pushing myself forward but also offering comfort when things get tough. one thing that really helps me is connecting with others who share similar dreams. if it's my pre-med club friends or my business club besties, having people who understand your journey makes everything feel less lonely. we support each other, share resources, and sometimes just vent about how hard everything is (while eating cookies, of course!).

the path to achieving our dreams isn't always aesthetic study sessions and perfect grades. sometimes it's messy, sometimes it's hard, and sometimes it feels impossible. but, that's exactly what makes it beautiful. every challenge you overcome is shaping you into the amazing doctor, ceo, lawyer, content creator, or whatever you dream of becoming.

remember, you're not just studying for a test or a grade. you're building the foundation for a life where you'll help others, make a difference, and achieve things beyond your wildest dreams. every formula you learn, every concept you master, is a tiny step toward that future.

sending you all my love and motivation! believe in yourself the way i believe in you. ✨

always here for you, mindy 🤍