#but i’m drunk too so i just nod along
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johntorrington · 1 year ago
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smoke breaks with an old woman who is insane
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happy74827 · 3 months ago
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Feels Like Home
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[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]
Synopsis: You decide to take it upon yourself to become best friends with Wade’s new grumpy addition to the family (much to Logan’s dismay).
WC: 2453
Category: Fluff, Sunshine!Reader x Grumpy!Logan trope {TW: Bar Fight, Handsy Drunk Dude, Mentions of Blood + Bruising}.
[Dedicated to: @iluvloganhowlett] I finished it for you!! (I’m shocked at the speed too don’t worry 💀). Hopefully this fluffiness will help add onto the low supply out there.
And incase anyone hasn’t seen it yet: DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT
『••✎••』
You’ve always had a keen eye when it came to others. It’s mostly why you and Wade get along so well; you’re the one person who can see straight through him. And while it means you are very close, it also meant that you can easily tell when something is going on with someone you don't know that well, like the tall, brooding man named Logan, who had just joined the club of misfits.
You could tell by the way he carried himself that he had been through hell and back. He was quiet, grumpy, and had a tendency to snap at Wade, which, most of the time, was a well-deserved snapping.
You could also tell that there was more to him. He wasn't just a grumpy guy; there was something about him that made you want to be his friend. Maybe it was the sadness in his eyes, or maybe it was how lonely he looked.
Either way, you knew he was in need of a good friend, and you wanted to be that friend. Not a pestering one like Wade, but the kind of friend that just makes you feel a bit better.
So, when you spotted him, downing glass after glass of whiskey for the third day in a row, you just knew you had to help.
And he hated it. Oh, man, he absolutely hated it. You were such a happy ray of sunshine, always smiling, always laughing. He found it so fucking annoying. He couldn't deal with you and your constant positivity. It was like you were the PG-13 version of the breathing ballsack next to you.
But you wouldn't give up. Every time you saw him, you would try to cheer him up by making silly jokes, giving him small gifts, or even just sending him encouraging smiles.
He didn't want any of it, but it seemed you were too stubborn to listen. Every small note you’d given him was left crinkled in the trash; every gift was placed away without ever being touched. Your smile never got a response.
That is, until one day, as you walked by him, he mumbled something that almost made you trip over.
"Thanks."
You stopped in your tracks and turned around to face him, a look of disbelief on your face. You had tried so hard to cheer him up for the past few weeks, and this was the only thing you got from him? You couldn't believe it.
You had spent so much time and effort trying to make him feel better, and this was all he could say to you?
You wanted to hug him. To scream to the skies and celebrate that he finally accepted your kindness.
You held the restraint to do so, though. You didn’t want to cause him to close off again, and so instead, you sent him a soft smile, and a small nod, before you resumed walking (running) to your friends.
The next day, however, you were met with the biggest surprise of your life.
Logan was sitting at the bar, drinking. He didn't look too different, still dressed in his trademark blue jeans and flannel shirt, but his face was still holding that sadness you had grown used to seeing on him.
You walked over to him and sat down beside him, that classic smile of yours plastered on your face.
"Hi!"
He groaned. "You're not going to leave me alone, are you?"
"Nope!" You replied cheerfully, popping the 'p.'
He grumbled under his breath and downed the last of his drink, signaling to the bartender for another.
"Come on, Wolvie," you said, nudging his shoulder. "Lighten up. Life's not that bad, is it?"
He turned to glare at you, his dark brown eyes piercing into yours. "It's Logan," he said, his voice a low growl.
You shrugged and leaned closer to him, propping your elbow on the counter. This was the usual part—the part where he would give vocal responses while you carried on your one-sided conversation with him.
The difference this time, the surprise of it all, was when a person approached the both of you. Mind you, a very drunk person.
"Heyyyyy, baby girl," he slurred, his hand landing on your shoulder.
You turned to him, and he was looking you up and down with that gaze you knew had only one intention. You still smiled, though, and politely moved his hand off your shoulder.
"Uh, hi?" You answered unsurely.
He slammed his elbow on the counter, his palm on his fist. "You are gorgeous," he commented, and you had to hold back the laughter that was bubbling in your throat.
"Thank you," you chuckled.
Logan scoffed, rolling his eyes, but you paid him no mind. Usual behavior from him, nothing new.
"No, really," the stranger continued, moving his arm around your shoulders, "I think you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
"Well, I'm glad you think so," you answered, still chuckling. "But, I think you're a little drunk."
"Drunk on love," he responded, "Say, wanna get out of here? I'll show you a real good time."
Here comes the awkward part, you thought.
You shook your head, and removed his arm from around your shoulders. "Thank you for… uh, the kind offer," you answered, "But, no, thank you."
You expected him to shrug it off and leave or to just be a dick, as many drunken guys are. But no, this guy did not know how to take a hint.
Instead, he tightened his grip around you and pulled you closer to him, his free hand moving down your waist. "Come on, baby," he said, his words slurring. "You know you want to."
You sighed. You were really hoping it wouldn't have to come to this.
You were about to speak, to politely, yet firmly, tell him to leave you alone, but before you could open your mouth, a gruff voice beat you to it.
"She said no,"
He didn’t even look at the man or you. His eyes were still fixated on the counter as if he was talking to his glass, but he had turned his head a bit to the side so that you could hear him clearly.
The drunk stranger was startled by the sudden intervention. He let go of you and looked over at Logan, confusion clear in his face.
"Who the hell are you?" he asked, his brows furrowed.
"Does it matter?" Logan grumbled.
"Yeah, it does," the stranger retorted, his slurring voice suddenly getting serious. "If I'm gonna be having fun, I don't want an audience."
Oh, how you hated confrontations.
Logan just scoffed with a slight hint of a smile, shaking his head as he still refused to turn around.
"Trust me, pal," he replied, "I ain't interested in watching you do anything."
"Good." He went back to his obnoxious grin, now directing his attention back to you. Oh, man, he was an eyesore.
"So, how about it, beautiful? Wanna head somewhere else?" He slurred.
You were about to reply, again, with a polite rejection, but your shoulder was being grabbed at again, and if it wasn’t for the small training session that Colossus had put you through, you were sure you would have lost your footing.
"Can you let go of me, please?" You asked politely, but the man was a brick wall.
"Nah, sweetheart," he shook his head, and the movement was so intense, you could almost hear the alcohol sloshing around in his head, "You're comin' with me. Trust me, you’ll be perfectly taken care of."
That was when the sound of glass slamming against the counter reached your ears, and you didn't have to see the source of the sound to know it was Mr. Grumps.
What you struggled for what seemed like an eternity, he took that needy arm away from your shoulders within a fraction of a second. It was almost shocking how quick he was, but then again, you knew what he was capable of.
With you safe against the counter, Logan turned to face the stranger, his face still showing that same neutral expression as before, though his eyes held an intensity that made the man flinch.
Normal people would believe he had the patience of a saint. But you weren’t a normal person. You knew this was dangerously close to making him lose it.
"Uh, Logan… maybe we should—"
But your words fell on deaf ears. The only thing that Logan could hear was the weak excuses the guy was trying to give as he tried to pull his hand from the tight grasp Logan had it in.
"Hey, man," he stuttered, his words slurring as the panic set in, "What’s your problem? Let go of me!
But Logan had no intentions of doing so. He held the stranger's arm firmly, his grip growing tighter until he could hear a small crack coming from the guy's bones.
"What's your damage, huh?" the guy continued, trying his best to keep his voice from breaking. "It's just a little fun, right, baby?"
You cringed as his eyes fell back onto you, and the pleading tone of his voice was beginning to make your skin crawl.
"Look, uh," you started, looking anywhere but his eyes, "I don't think—"
"Listen," the man continued, and your eyes fell shut. God, he was just not going to stop. "Maybe you can join us? Huh, big boy? That’s what it is, right? You want her all for yourself?"
Uh, oh.
"Logan, don’t—"
It was too late. He had already snapped, and with a grunt, he pulled the man closer to him, his other hand forming a fist around his shirt.
"Wanna say that again?" He growled. "Do it. I dare you."
The man was trembling in his grasp, but he was clearly too drunk to understand the danger he was in.
"Oh, I'm sorry, are you her boyfriend?" He taunted, and the fact that he had the guts to do so while his hand was in a painful hold was astonishing, even for you. "Or are you just some guy with a crush? Cause, honestly, it's pretty pathetic. You can't even ask her out."
His words had Logan seeing red, and before you could do anything, the guy was pushed away and was about to be on the receiving end of one of the strongest punches you've ever seen.
So, riskily, to protect yourself and him from being thrown out of his favorite place, you jumped off the stool and slid in between them as he launched his punch, just stopping inches away from your face.
"Please," you said, your palms up and in front of you, as if that would do anything to stop the rage he was feeling, "Please, calm down."
"Calm down?" He repeated, his voice rising. "Are you kidding me?"
"You need to let it go," you told him. "He's drunk, Logan. He doesn't know what he's saying."
"And, what," he retorted, his anger slowly fading away, "Does it look like I give a single fuck about that?"
You sighed, your eyes meeting his, and that was enough for him to finally give in. His clenched fist dropped, and he released a frustrated sigh.
The dude behind you started laughing, his voice sounding as if he was trying to make fun of a fight scene.
"So," he chuckled, "That's it, huh? You're not gonna do shit? You’re just as pathetic as a—"
He gently moved you aside, and in an instant, the man was lying on the floor with a bloody nose, a black eye, and a few broken ribs.
You could only hold your head in your hands, knowing very well the mess you were about to have to deal with.
And it didn't take long.
As soon as Logan stepped away from the drunk idiot, security was on him, grabbing his arms and restraining him. He couldn’t care less, though, as he held a sadistic grin on his face, pleased with his work while being escorted out.
And, so, there, the two of you were on the steps of the apartment building. You, holding your hands in your lap, and he, staring up at the night sky.
The air was warm, the city lights were dim, and the sky was covered in clouds. There was an odd silence between the two of you, which wasn’t really all that odd, but the events of the night had changed the atmosphere.
"Thanks," you spoke, breaking the quiet. "For, you know, standing up for me."
"He was a douche," he stated, his voice gruff. "Someone had to send that fucktart crying home to mommy."
"You shouldn’t have done that, though," you told him. "Now, you’re probably banned from the bar. I know it's your favorite."
"Eh," he shrugged, "Booze is booze. There are plenty more places to get drunk."
You didn't respond. Instead, you focused your attention on the small bugs flying around the dim light next to the door.
"You shouldn't be thanking me, anyway," he continued, turning to you. That was new. "I should be the one thanking you."
You looked at him, your brows furrowed. This whole conversation was getting weird. "Uh, what for?" You asked, confused.
"For putting up with me," he replied, shrugging.
"Putting up with you?" You repeated, not understanding. "I don't understand."
"Y'know," he continued, his gruff voice a little less gruff. "Sticking around. Being friendly. Having… patience. I can be…I can be a real dick. Honestly, I still don't get why you keep trying."
The smile that found its way to your lips waa the most genuine one he's ever seen. Your eyes were full of kindness and understanding, and your lips, which usually held a grin or a smirk, were turned upwards in a soft, gentle smile.
"Logan," you said, your voice low. "You may be a grump, and you might not be the friendliest guy, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve kindness. Everyone deserves that… or at least a little bit of it."
He scoffed. "That's funny," he replied, turning his head away.
You furrowed your brows and cocked your head, confused. "What is?" You asked.
"I used to think," he began, "That no one would ever look at me in the way you do. Not after what I’ve done… not after what I am."
"You're a good man, Logan," you told him. "You proved who you were when you willingly helped Wade."
"Maybe," he sighed, his gaze meeting yours. "But, there's still a lot you don't know about me. I'm not exactly a knight in shining armor."
"Oh, my dear, Wolvie," you said playfully, leaning closer to him and placing your palm on his shoulder, "You never were."
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cosmicmunsonwrites · 14 days ago
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i’ll drive, i’ll drive all night
bf!rafe cameron x fem!reader
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cw — alcohol, brief talks abt arguing, this is lowk short
summary — you drunk call rafe for a ride home from your friends house.
a/n — whipped this up in a few minutes so please don’t be too harsh. request!!
do not copy or post my work anywhere else.
you sat outside with the warm breeze as you waited on the steps to your best friends house for your boyfriend to pick you up. you were completely out of it, eyes feeling heavy, body all soft and feeling like jelly from the copious amounts of alcohol coursing through you.
you’d probably had one too many drinks and you were expecting a lecture from rafe when he arrived but you were too far past the point of caring. you just wanted to see him and go home after the terrible day you’d had.
the two of you had argued earlier in the afternoon which eventually led to you both parting ways and not speaking for a few hours. you were both very opinionated and you had attitudes that often didn’t mix well when you were frustrated. one of you usually apologized though and you guys moved past it.
this one was different though. you knew you’d been a little mean in your replies but you also felt like he deserved a little reality check. you currently couldn’t even remember why you were arguing due to your drunken state, but you knew it was something you guys could easily get over. you two would probably forget about it by morning anyway.
when you finally saw the big truck pull into the driveway, you quickly stood and almost immediately regretted the sudden action. your head began to spin and a pain accumulated behind your eyelids as you drunkenly stumbled to his car. he was standing on the passengers side waiting for you.
once you approached after tripping over your own feet, he opened up the door for you without a word and helped you up the big step to get inside. he shut it behind you and made his way into his own seat. he assured you had your seatbelt on and began reversing out of the driveway without a word.
“i’m sorry,” you slurred quietly, noticing the way both his hands held the steering wheel instead of one of them resting on your thigh. “didn’t know who else to call.”
you heard him sigh and begin to drive. “would rather you call me than anyone else,” he admitted honestly and spared a glance in your direction. his heart broke a little at the soft pout on your lips and the sad glint in your eyes. “‘nd i’m not mad at you, baby. ‘s fine.”
your eyes glistened with tears as you looked at him. “you’re not?” you mumbled under your breath, eyes feeling heavier and your head getting all foggy.
he shook his head with a shrug and gently rested his hand on your lower thigh just above your knee, thumb soothing over your skin reassuringly. “could never be mad at you,” he said before the car fell into a comfortable silence. the only sound being the quiet song playing on his radio.
you didn’t know when you fell asleep or how long it’d been since, but you began to wake to the sight of rafe standing in front of you looking extremely focused and a soft towel being dragged carefully over your cheeks. you were sat on the bathroom counter with your legs spread slightly and him standing between them with majority of your body weight leaning against his.
he was holding your jaw in one hand while the other hand did what you assumed was taking off your makeup. when you finally fluttered your eyes open for real this time, he scanned your face and placed the towel down on the counter. “you have fun tonight?”
you nodded and smiled softly. “mhm. morgan’s friends are really nice. the bar was so cool,” you replied, awkwardly rubbing your hands along your thighs not knowing whether or not it was appropriate to touch him. “‘m really sorry, rafe.”
he went silent for a moment but his eyes stayed fixed on yours. “its okay, sweetheart. we both said some shit we shouldn’t have. ‘s alright. people make mistakes.”
“i was bein’ a bitch earlier,” you mumbled, leaning your forehead against his chest.
he laughed softly and smoothed a hand down the back of your head comfortingly. “i think i can handle your attitude pretty well by now,” he replied just barely above a whisper. “c’mon. time for bed.”
you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck as his hands found the backs of your thighs, lifting you and walking you to your shared bedroom before dropping you down gently on your side. he was quick to pull his shirt over his head and crawl under the covers beside you.
you scooted closer to his side and sighed at the familiar warmth you enjoyed so much. his arm loosely fell to the dip of your waist as he scrolled through netflix to find a movie on, knowing you couldn’t sleep without the tv on. “i love you baby,” you muttered through a sleep-laced voice.
he smiled and pressed a kiss to your hair. “i love you more, angel.”
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salsakiyoomi · 2 months ago
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“what the hell?”
needless to say, you were confused to see your best friend, suna, standing at your door at three fucking am, looking drunk with his hair drippin wet thanks to the rain.
“hi,” he says and staggers into your apartment.
“dude!” you exclaim.
“hey hey, it’s fine, we’re cool, we’re bffs,” he says, a sly smirk on his flushed face.
yeah, he is definitely drunk.
“please don’t sit on my couch —” you say, but it was too late, he was already sitting down, letting out an exaggerated sigh as water droplets drip down on your sofa.
he pats the spot next to him, giving you a lazy grin, you scowl at him but decide to humor him and sit down next to him on the couch.
“god, i missed you,” he tells you and you huff, “i just saw you, two days ago.”
“what? I can’t miss my best friend?” he says, a slight pout on his lips.
you sigh, “rin, what’s gotten you so drunk so late?”
he hums in response and rests his arm on the back of the couch, “tsumu.”
“don’t you have practice tomorrow?” you ask and he shakes his head, letting out a sigh and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, “i’m calling in sick tomorrow.” he slurs.
you nod your head along, entertaining him for the most part — rintaro wasn’t easily drunk, so for him to be staggering into your apartment at three in the morning meant the he seriously had more than his fair share.
all thanks to atsumu.
“do you wanna know?” he suddenly says.
you quirk an eyebrow, “do i wanna know what?”
“how much i like you.”
your heart stutters in your chest, “....you like me?”
he grins, and his face flushes even more, “what’s there not to like?”
you laugh awkwardly, “okay!” you exclaim, “lets get you to bed, no?” you say in an attempt to  change the subject.
“y/n,” he says, a serious look on his face, “i like you.”
it’s true, he likes you, maybe even loves you, and it’s gotten so hard for him to deny or ignore, every song he listens to reminds him of you and he’s been dreaming about you, it’s gotten so bad.
you hum, and pause, then smile at him, ruffling his hair, “tell me that when your’re sober, rin,” you say because you hope to god that it’s true.
he blinks up at you, then nods his head, “okay.”
and as he lays down on the couch, he makes a mental note to himself to confess his feelings appropriately in the morning.
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elixirfromthestars · 2 months ago
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A Night of Frights & Delights
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Pairing: Athlete!Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader (College AU)
Summary: It’s Friday the 13th and the college kids in town decided to host a weekend camping trip on the outskirts of town. Your best friend convinced you to go much to your reluctance. What could go wrong when the one guy you can’t stand is also there?
Word Count: 7k
Warning(s): slight horror themes / suggestive tones + implications / mentions of a past murder (not in graphic detail just campfire storytelling) / slow burn / suspense + other elements of spookiness / touch starved elements / be prepared for lots of back and forth + tension
Prompt: Campsite + forced proximity + “ It’s not bad enough to have Friday the 13th, we’ve gotta have a full moon too?”
a/n: here’s my entry for @witchywithwhiskey ‘s summer slasher writing challenge. Any chance to celebrate summerween and I’m there 🤭✨ I got carried away with the spooky element of it and this ended up longer than expected. Thank you for reading! 🧡 Feedback is always appreciated!! 🎃🧡
a steamy part two ❤️‍🔥
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“ It’s Friday the 13th! Gather ‘round, for some good ol’ scary campfire stories!” Sam Wilson called out to anyone who would listen. A task that wasn’t the easiest thing to ask for when all the college students in the area were trying to have their last bit of fun before fall semester started. Amongst the ones that weren’t already drunk or passed out, a few were trying to find the perfect opportunity to sneak away into the night.
You on the other hand sat near the bonfire, appreciating the warmth it provided on this chilly night. Your back was resting against a log. The scratchy surface grazes against your black sweater at the slightest movement. Camping wasn’t your ideal choice for a weekend getaway, but when your best friend Jane insisted on you coming along it was hard to say no. Especially, since you had already said no to multiple get-togethers throughout the summer. 
It’s not like you didn’t want to hang out with her. The issue was that wherever she was her boyfriend was—and wherever he was his friends were. And his friends included one smartass star pitcher for your university’s baseball team who made it his life’s mission to be a thorn in your side. 
Needless to say, you couldn’t stand the man.
“ It was actually 1982, not 1985,” Jane whispers her comment to you, nudging your arm lightly. You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at her, your clueless eyes meeting her amused ones. 
“ You’re not paying attention to Sam’s story, are you?” She quietly calls you out, leaning slightly closer. You shake your head sheepishly,“ No. Kind of got lost in thought,” you admit. Jane nods in acknowledgment,“ You’re not missing much. He’s just telling the story of the murders that happened here in ‘82,” she explains. You nod slowly, an eerie chill creeping up your spine. Everyone within fifty miles of the town knew of the horrific crime. It was the worst the town had ever seen. 
A group of teenagers had snuck off into the woods to party a week before their senior graduation. They brought their camping gear to spend the night under the full moon to celebrate the milestone. They had gone so deep into the woods no one heard their music blasting all night. 
No one heard their screams either as their life was taken from them. 
You took a shaky breath, your fingers tracing random patterns into the dirt beneath you. Even though you could recite this story from memory it was different hearing it told in gruesome detail. Something Sam was not shying away from doing. 
“ Don’t let Sam’s story get to you—here have a s’more,” Thor spoke up, handing you a small disposable plate with a freshly assembled s’more. His way of trying to comfort you. 
“ Thanks,” you shot Thor an appreciative smile, taking the sweet treat. Jane’s boyfriend had always been kind to you and you got along well. The mutual friendliness extended to all of his baseball friends.
Well, the friendliness extended to all his friends except for one.  
“ He’s telling it wrong anyway, so don’t pay it any mind,” Jane says causing you to let out a small laugh. Leave it to Jane to alleviate your nerves by just being herself. 
You try to drown out Sam’s true crime retelling and focus on the sugary gooeyness on your lap. Jane and Thor snuggle into each other beside you and a small smile appears on your face at the sight. You take a bite of the s’more, letting the flavors melt into your mouth. 
“ The next morning the cops led a search party into these very woods. Everyone searched day and night for three days straight. Scouting every inch, no stone unturned, to find them. And then one day, one member of the search party found something. That member being my Titi—so listen close,” Sam sets up the big reveal. 
“ Wanna know what they found?” A voice you know all too well whispers into your ear from behind. The hairs on the back of your neck stand as his breath fans your ear. 
“ I already know,” you grit out, turning your head to glare at him. Bucky can’t help the cocky grin that overcomes him when you look at him like that. He makes his way over the log and sits right next to you. You don’t hide the displeasure on your face. 
“ Couldn’t find anyone else to annoy, James?” 
 “ None worth my time, sweetheart—and it's Bucky.” 
You roll your eyes biting back a snarky comment. No matter the number of times he insists on you calling him by his nickname, you refuse to. Only his friends call him Bucky, and you're not friends—far from it. So to you, he’s James and nothing more. 
“ We’re not friends, James. Friends don’t make you miss your biology final,” you remind him bitterly. He looks at you with slight disbelief,“ You’re still stuck on that? How is it my fault the party went until four in the morning?” You bristle at his defensiveness. 
“ I don’t know. Maybe by not kicking everyone out of your apartment?” you retort, taking another bite of your s’more. Hoping to lose yourself in the sweetness of it before the distaste of his presence taints it. 
“ At least the professor let you make it up…” he mutters under his breath. 
“ That’s not the point,” you snip, unable to let him have the last word. You pretend to focus on Sam’s story, but really your attention is on the flames in front of you. The way they dance and crackle as if telling their own story alongside Sam’s. 
Bucky stares at you, his eyes scanning every detail of your face. His favorite pastime is finding all the ways to push your buttons. There’s something about your reactions that he can’t help but want to see more of. He openly enjoys being the only one who can elicit such responses from you. Hell, you could say he was proud of it. 
“ Stop it.” 
“ Stop what?” 
“ The staring.” 
“ Don't want to.” 
You turn to give him a piece of your mind but abruptly stop when you see the way he’s looking at you—or more so the way he’s examining your lips. His eyes reflecting more than just the golden flames in the bonfire. There was something deeper and not entirely unfamiliar. He had looked at you this way before, and yet it was still unrecognizable to you. An emotion you couldn’t pinpoint, but that was heartstopping nonetheless. 
His hand lifts to your face, his thumb brushing away at something on the corner of your mouth. Your tongue instinctively darts out to lick your lips and remove whatever remnants of the s’more are left. Something unreadable flashes in his eyes. You wonder what he must be seeing in yours when his eyes drift from your lips to your gaze. 
“ You had a little something there,” his voice has a deeper cadence to it, contrasting the cheeky grin plastered on his face. That damn grin. It’s all you need to snap out of whatever trance you were just in. 
“ You’re insufferable,” you hiss out, getting up from your spot on the ground and stepping away from the bonfire. You hate how he does this—how easily he’s able to mess with you. It’s like it's his second nature to know exactly how to get a reaction from you. Almost as if he knew you better than you knew yourself.
The vulnerability of it all is what ground your gears the most. Bucky was used to this. The flirting, the back and forth, the teasing, and having girls wrapped around his finger. The last time you were in a relationship was your freshman year of college—a few years ago. It had been too long of being touch-starved that the slightest of touches or gazes brought about a yearning deep within you. One that you swore Bucky could see right through and it made you detest the man more. 
You hated feeling like you were being toyed with. But above all, you hated how much you actually didn’t hate the attention he gave you. 
You make your way over to one of the many trashcans around the campsite and dump the last bits of your s’more in along with the disposable plate. Your appetite for the treat long gone after his little stunt. 
You use your phone as a flashlight as you walk over to where all the tents are stationed. It’s not too far from the bonfire, but far enough that the voices of everyone drown out into a low hum. A few people are already in the tents enjoying the night without the warmth of the fire. 
“ Y/n! Hold up!” Jane calls out to you from behind. You face her confused expression, “ Everything okay?” You nod, your hands hiding in the pockets of your grey sweatpants,“ Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just gonna call it a night,” you say tiredly. You don’t want her to worry or keep her from enjoying her night. 
“ Okay…Are you sure? Because you seemed off after Bucky—” 
“ Please for the love of everything don’t mention him.”
Jane drops the subject entirely, “ Okay, okay. I won’t,” she assures you and pauses for a moment before she adds, “ By the way, I’ll be staying with Thor tonight, so you have our tent all to yourself.” 
“ Oh? Oh…behave yourself, Foster,” you warn her playfully. She rolls her eyes waving off your tease,“ No promises.” You laugh together—the exchange alleviating the heaviness in your shoulders.
After a light farewell, your best friend retreats to the bonfire. You find your eyes drifting from her figure to the back of Bucky’s head. He’s still sitting in the same spot, right next to where you had sat. He was drinking away at a beer as Sam continues his story. You look away, ignoring the way your heart feels a small pang as it wonders if it would have been so bad if you had stayed.
Only Bucky had this way of infuriating you, but enticing you at the same time. A magnetic push and pull that tugs at you whenever you’re near him. 
You crouch down and unzip your humble abode for the night. Gazing up at the sky before heading in. The moon is bright and full amongst the dark hazy clouds. 
“ It's not bad enough to have Friday the 13th, we've gotta have a full moon too?” you grumble before entering the tent. The knowledge of being in here alone all night sounds less appealing now. You wish Sam had told a different story to set the mood for tonight. 
For the next couple of hours, you lose yourself in your sketchbook. Every corner of the tent became your makeshift desk as the soft scratches of graphite filled the air. A small LED lantern casting just enough glow to guide your intricate curves and shadows across the paper. At first, you were sketching a flower you had seen earlier in the day along a trail. You don’t recognize the species, but the cluster of pretty violet petals vividly lived in your head and you wanted it forever memorialized in your sketchbook. 
At some point, however, the petals turn into doodles and then unrecognizable scribbles. The creative flow taking a life of its own. You soon find yourself drawing a pair of eyes on another page. Giving them a space of their own. These eyes you recognize deep down, but they still have the same unreadable expression from earlier. Almost as if you hoped to decipher it by putting it on paper. 
Maybe then it would be easier to look at them without being affected—without feeling that pull. 
There’s a loud thump that echoes close to your tent. You freeze at the sound. By this point, everyone had called it a night and retreated to their sleeping arrangements. It had been at least half an hour that you hadn’t heard a single sound except for the chirping of crickets amongst a chorus of other creepy crawlers. 
When no sound followed the thump you decided to ignore it—acting like you hadn’t heard a thing. And yet, your fingers swiftly moved to turn off the lantern and close your sketchbook, neatly tucking it beneath your pillow. 
Another noise rang out—the skidding of dirt. And this time it was closer to your tent. Not directly outside it, but almost. You don’t know why your heart dropped or why your fingertips went cold, but they did. You tell yourself it’s probably just someone going out to use the bathroom or some other related activity. 
Your body betrayed your mind as it started to feel enclosed in the tent. Like a prey caught in a trap. Hopelessly awaiting the moment the predator decided to take them out. 
You swallow the lump in your throat and with numb fingers, you grab your phone. The tent shrinking around you as your heart pounded in your chest. Going out to investigate the source of the noise wasn't the smartest idea. However, continuing to be a sitting duck in the tent was distressing you more—and that helpless feeling overpowered anything else. 
You slowly unzip the tent, trying to make as minimal noise as possible. You slip on your moccasins, putting one foot in front of the other as you step out into the night. Your surroundings are cast in shadows as the moon seems to be hiding behind a gloomy cluster of clouds. You look around and notice no one else is awake. Only dormant tents with sleeping residents inside accompany you in the night. 
You scan the area, training your ear to see if you can pick up any noise. 
That’s when you hear it—a rustling in the bushes. 
You peer into the woods, your eyes narrowing hoping to center on something, but you can’t see anything. There’s a slight fog that encases the lines of trees encircling the campsite obstructing your view. 
You take a few steps forward, hugging your sweater closer to your body. The outside air catches you off guard with its falling degrees. The shadows at every corner of the woods become creatures of the night if you stare at them for too long. 
Why were you doing this? Why had you decided this was a good idea? 
You questioned yourself. An unpleasant shiver goes up your spine at the thought of you walking straight into a creature’s claws. Your footing stumbled, and yet you found yourself walking further in the direction of the sound, the faint glow of your phone illuminating your path. You decided against using the actual flashlight on your phone as it could easily alert whatever was hiding in the foliage of the woods. 
You don’t go too far from the campsite. Your legs only take you a few feet away from the perimeter of it before tensing at the way the hoot of an owl cuts through the stillness of the night. Your breath caught in your throat, and you gripped your phone tighter. The edges of it digging into your skin. 
“ What are we looking for?” A voice too close for comfort whispers behind you and it causes you to shriek, your phone tumbling to the ground as you jump away from the source. Your eyes zero in on the culprit—your blood boiling when your gaze meets his ceruleans. 
James Buchanan fucking Barnes.
A deep chuckle erupts from Bucky at your reaction. Not only at the way you jumped, but also at the way you’re now seething. He stands there in a basic white tee and black joggers, his hair slightly unkempt from lying on it earlier in the night. 
“ What the hell is wrong with you?” You hiss, bending down to pick up your phone from the ground. The anxiety from before dissipating into irritation. 
“ Me? What’s up with you? Sneaking around in the woods at night. That’s kinda creepy, sweetheart,” he jabs with a smirk. You roll your eyes, exhaling to steady your breath,“ Stop calling me that. And I'm not sneaking around—I heard something.” 
“ And you came to check it out?” 
“ Yeah.”
“ You have no survival instincts, do you?”
“ And you do? You're out here too.”
Bucky crosses his arms, his eyes roaming over your figure. He’s thoroughly entertained by your attempt to catch whatever is out there in your cozy outfit. It’s not exactly monster-hunting material. 
“ I let my buddy have the tent for the night. He’s got a girl in there. Thought I'd sleep under the stars like nature intended,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. A wry smile appears on your face,“ Aren’t you a great friend,” you reply sarcastically. He’s about to give you a snippy retort when a branch breaks ahead of you, causing you both to snap your attention to it. 
You both go silent—wondering if you’ll hear anything more. Bucky takes a few steps forward to stand in front of you. Positioning himself between you and the unknown noise. 
“ Is that what you heard earlier?” He asks, his voice a hushed whisper. Your eyes drift up his form and the way his arm is slightly outstretched in your direction in a protective stance. He’s looking in the direction of where the sound came from, but then his head turns back to look at you. 
It takes you a second to gather your words,“ Sort of. At first there was like a loud thud by my tent and then some rustling—and now this,” you describe the unfolding events thus far.
He frowns,“ Is your tent the one by Wanda’s?”At his question you nod,“ Yeah…why?” He tilts his head slightly as he tries to recollect something. 
“ The two-person one with the purple edges?” 
“ Yeah…” 
His features soften, dawning on a sheepish expression. His protective stance faltering as he scratches the back of his neck,“ The noise was me then—sorry. I tripped over something while looking for a place to piss.” 
“ Oh…” Is all you manage to say. Feeling utterly foolish for getting so worked up over nothing. What you had thought was something going bump in the night ended up being Bucky stumbling to relieve himself. 
Another branch cracks in the murky fog. Reminding you that although the noises you heard outside your tent were explained, the ones here, not too far from you and Bucky—weren’t. 
“ I’m gonna go check it out,” he takes a step forward, but you stop him. Your hand shoots out to grip the hem of his shirt,“ Don’t! Are you crazy? You’re going to get yourself killed or something!”
His eyebrows raise, not expecting you to have that reaction.“ Are you worried about me, sweetheart?” A smirk spreads across his face, a twinkle in his eye.“ As if—screw you,” you deny harsher than you intended, removing your hold from his shirt. This only provokes him more, his smirk turning into a cheeky grin,“ You wanna?” 
“ You know what? I hope whatever is out there gets you.” 
“ Oh, you’d miss me if it did. But don’t worry—if it gets me, I’ll make sure to let it know you’re the one worth chasing." 
Bucky doesn’t give you a second to process what his words really mean. Instead, he takes out a small flashlight from the pocket of his joggers. He turns it on, shining the area ahead of him. A brazen expression is the last thing you see before he wanders into that direction of the woods as if there wasn’t potentially something dangerous up ahead. 
You wanted to protest, but you didn’t. Rather, you end up standing there amongst the wilderness, watching as his form gets smaller and smaller until it disappears into the haze of the fog. 
You feel uneasy as soon as you don’t see him. Your chest feels heavy with the unknown. You call out to him. Thinking maybe he’s doing this to prove something or to mess with you. When he doesn’t call back you find apprehension in the sinking pit of your stomach. 
Behind you, the campsite is still in sight. The smart thing to do would be to go wake someone up—like Thor—to go after Bucky. However, your feet work faster than your mind does, pushing you to follow after him. 
This time you use the flashlight on your phone to light your path. The luminescence cuts through the fog as you trudge through it. Leaves crunching beneath your feet, and hands outstretched lightly to use the passing trees as support to persist onward. 
You walk for a good few minutes before you finally spot him. He’s standing by a tall pine tree, his right hand tracing over something etched into the bark. 
“ James! Come back to the campsite!” You whisper yelled, approaching him. He hummed,“ So you are worried about me,” the smugness in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed by you. When he turns to face you his eyes tell you he was expecting you. Like he knew in the end your stubbornness and pride wouldn’t matter because you’d end up following after him after all.
You are worried about him. He needs no further proof than your actions. 
There was a prickling of annoyance building up in your system. More than anything, you wanted to get out of the woods as soon as possible. The campsite feels like a haven awaiting your return. 
“ Can you stop being so insufferably cocky for one second and just come back to the camp before I drag your ass back?” You say through gritted teeth. You wanted to have more bark to your bite, but the inkling dread of what could be out here stopped you from crossing that line. 
He stepped closer to you, the glow of his flashlight reflecting in his eyes in tiny glimmers,“ Why? I thought you didn't care if ‘whatever is out there’ got me.”
“ I don’t—but I’d hate to be an accomplice to that thing.” 
“ Admit it. You’re worried about me.”
By now Bucky was mere inches away from you. Having slowly sauntered right up to you. His eyes were daring you to speak the truth—his arrogant smile tempting you to do even more. 
“ I came to get you back, but if you’re determined to stay here then stay,” you huff, spinning on your heels to storm off. 
Bucky’s hand reaches out and encloses your wrist gently. Just enough to keep you from walking away. He sighs with defeated ire. 
“ Sweetheart, why won't you admit—” he’s cut off by the swift movement of something dashing past the both of you. He immediately pulls you in closer, his arms encasing you protectively—his body a shield. One arm is wrapped around your waist while the other holds your head. Your own body leans into his as if bracing for impact. 
From the corner of your eye, you can see the culprit of the racket. A deer dashing through the woods like it had somewhere to be. You held back a laugh at the revelation. 
This is what had you so worried this whole time? A deer? 
Even so, your heart races in your chest. And Bucky has you so tightly pressed into his that you can feel the way his own heart is thrumming rapidly. Both of your breaths work to steady from their instability as you realize there is nothing truly to be worried about. 
You stay like this for what seems like an eternity. Finding comfort in each other’s arms. The fog dances around your figures as if pushing you closer. The tips of your fingers tingle from where they’re pressed at his chest. 
When you finally register whose touch it is, you pull away. Bucky reluctantly lets you go. His arms awkwardly falling to his sides. You don’t know what to say. He doesn’t know where to start.
Why was his instinct to protect you? To keep you from harm’s way? 
And why had you felt the safest all night in his arms? 
You swallow the questions that desire to escape. There’s a part of you that feels like you should thank him, but then the other part feels stupid for wanting to do so. Knowing how much it would feed his ego to vindicate him as a hero. 
“ Guess it was just a deer, huh?” Bucky tries to cut through whatever tension is starting to build. 
“ Yeah…silly us…” you reply, half-heartedly. Your mind still reeling from his touch. 
You both go quiet again. The silence welcomes you where words fail to. 
Out of nowhere, you feel a tiny bead land on your head. Followed by one on your hand and then your cheek. It's beginning to drizzle. The rain cutting through the trees and promising to kiss every inch of your skin. 
“ We should get going,” Bucky says, his palm cupped to catch a few droplets. 
“ Yeah, that’s a good idea,” you agree, clearing your throat. In other circumstances, Bucky would rejoice and point out how, for once, you aren’t arguing with him. But not right now—not at this moment. Not when the memory of holding each other stirred something within you both. 
No, now instead you walk back to the campsite in silence. You’re a few steps ahead as Bucky decides to tow along at a slower pace. Seemingly lost in thought. 
When you’re back at the campsite your eyes dart to your tent. It’s within reach. A safety you can hideout in until the emotions Bucky arose in you fade away.  
“ Can I chill in your tent for a while? Just until the rain stops,” Bucky surprises you with his request. Until you remember he gave up his tent to his friend for the night. 
“ What? No,” your response is immediate. The thought of you and Bucky alone in your tent causes many scenarios to run through your head. You didn’t think you’d make it through the night with him in it. You were barely hanging on as it is. 
“ I just saved your life.” 
“ You did not.”
“ Did too.” 
“ James, you absolutely did not–” 
“ Please,” his soft plea tugs at the very part of you that wants to say yes. He’s not the kind of guy to beg, but he’ll do anything to not stand out in the cold rain. You being in an enclosed space with him was just a bonus. 
An extremely tantalizing bonus. 
“ Fine…but only until the rain stops,” you concede. You weren’t heartless enough to leave him out in the rain. 
You zip open the tent and climb inside. You remove your moccasins and leave them by the entrance. The inside is spacious enough for the two of you, but you still find yourself going into the furthest right corner of it. You sit crossed-legged as you turn on the small LED lantern to illuminate the tent with its muted glow. He makes his way inside, his hair glistening from the rain. He leaves his muddied slides by your moccasins. 
“ This tent is way nicer than the one Sam and I got,” he comments, running a hand through his hair to dispel the droplets. He’s trying to make light conversation, keeping his distance as he sits in the corner by the entrance diagonally from you. 
“ Jane’s family is really into camping so she had this one laying around…” you mention. The oddity of small talk between you fills the space with a foreign dynamic. The rain goes from a sprinkle to a pour. Hitting the top of the fabric cacoon in harsh strokes.  
He chooses to pivot the conversation.“ Do you have everything ready for fall semester?” He asks you, maneuvering to sit with his knees bent, his shirt hiking up the smallest bit to expose the skin at his hips. You avert your gaze when your heart does a little flip. 
“ Almost. I still have one or two textbooks to get,” you reply, playing with a few loose threads of the blanket beneath you. Anything to not have your eyes wander back to him. 
He scoffs lightly,“ You already got your textbooks? There’s no way. I always get ‘em after the first week.” Unlike you, he can’t seem to keep his pretty blues away from you. Your features heightened in the gentle sheen of the lantern. Intricate shadows scattered across your figure that made you look ethereal. The way his heart hammered in his chest romanticizing the sight of you.
“ That's because I’m responsible and you’re not.” 
“ I am responsible. As captain of the baseball team—”
“ Spare me the team leader speech, please,” you groan, stopping him from continuing. There’s only so much you can take for one night. And hearing Bucky light up as he talks about the one thing he’s passionate about—the one thing that humanizes him to you beyond his usual cheeky self. It would do more to you than just make your heart do a little flip.
You’d end up saying or doing something you wouldn’t be able to take back. 
“ Look, Y/n, I’m just trying to make conversation here. You don’t have to be so difficult all the time. Just talk to me,” Bucky brings you out of your thoughts not only by his exasperated tone, but by the way your name rolls off his tongue. He so rarely calls you by it. He’s called you sweetheart endlessly—and he’s even slipped a few sunshines in the mix—but your name was foreign to his vocabulary.  
 Bucky is usually good at dealing with your constant back and forth. Some days it's the only thing he looks forward to. However, right now it was irritating him how much you pushed back. He wanted you to give in. To what, he wasn’t sure. But he wondered what normalcy felt like with you—what just a damn friendly conversation felt like. 
You sigh, meeting his eyes.“ I don’t want to talk. Sorry, I think I’m just tired. Maybe we should go to bed,” you suggest, hoping that if he says yes you can sleep away the bubbling of emotions in your chest. 
You can see the way he contemplates something, biting the inside of his bottom lip. Now he’s the one holding back. A beat passes and you nervously wonder if he’ll turn down your suggestion. 
“ Fine—it's late anyway. But only if I get to sleep next to you. I promise I’ll keep my distance. It’s just there’s water leaking through the zipper at the entrance,” he mentions, his hand motioning to the entry. Your eyes dart to where he’s pointing and sure enough there’s a small puddle of water pooling by it. Not knowing how long the rain would continue, you knew you had to deal with the issue.
You grab Jane’s camping gear that holds numerous amount of supplies in all of its various pockets. She always came extra prepared no matter the occasion. You take out a washcloth, scooting over to the entrance to soak up the forming puddle. You decide to leave it there neatly tucked underneath where the water was finding its way in.
“ Alright, but if you snore I'm kicking you out,” you warn, but it’s more playful than serious. Something to lighten the mood before you go to bed. A way to dissipate whatever tension’s built up so you'd be able to fall asleep. 
It’s hard to cut through the tension and alleviate its symptoms when your shelter from the storm seems to shrink the more you chat with Bucky. And now sitting right next to him—shoulder to shoulder—it seems like a damn near impossible task. 
" I’ll take my chances. But just so you know, I don’t go down without a fight,” he winks at you, your shoulders brushing. Your heart rate picks up and it takes everything within you to stare into his eyes and not focus on the way that simple contact sent a shiver down your spine. 
His eyes drift to your lips causing your breath to hitch. The implications of where this could go are enough to pull you away from his spell. 
“ Goodnight,” you choke out. Subtly rushing over to your sleeping bag and settling into it. You don’t see when he shakes his head, but you do hear how he chuckles lowly. He mumbles something under his breath, but you can’t pick it up. 
He makes his way over to Jane’s sleeping bag, but lays on top of it instead of nestling into it. Choosing to cover himself only in the maroon fleece blanket that was draped over your body too. 
“ Goodnight,” he finally says, his body turning to face away from you. You respond by turning off the lantern. The space is now engulfed by darkness. Only the faintest of light shines in from the outside, letting your eyes trace the outlines of objects. 
 You turn to your side. Your back facing his. You take a deep breath, concentrating on the sound of the rain to hopefully lull you into a slumber. But the air felt too thick and your body was burning up from the heat radiating under the blanket. There was a good foot or so separating your body and Bucky’s. And yet, you could feel the heat radiating off of him as if he was pressed up right against you. 
It was too much. You swore you started sweating, so you shuffled under the covers and out of the sleeping bag. Every movement slow and deliberate as if to not snap the rope keeping the palpable tension in place. 
When only the plush fleece covered your body, the heat radiated less. But the fluttering of the blanket caused Bucky’s cologne to waft your way. A pleasant scent of musky woodiness with a hint of something that was entirely him. You gripped the cover tightly and counted to ten in your head. You were going mad. 
“ Would you stop hogging the blanket? ” Bucky muttered from beside you. There were a lot of things he wanted to tell you to stop doing. Because you and your constant fidgeting were driving him crazy. Every fiber of his being holding back from doing something to snap that rope. 
You didn’t realize you had been pulling it your way until he mentioned it. Your grip on it loosened,“ Sorry. I wasn’t hogging it though,” you argued for no reason other than to fill the silence. 
“ Yes, you were.” 
“ No, I wasn’t.” 
There was something about the proximity of your bodies that made the blanket seem smaller. Like there was no possible way it could equally cover both of your sleeping forms. Maybe this is what caused you to then tug at it, however, he holds it firmly to himself too.  
Persistently you pull at the blanket again. He pulls back—a tug of war ensues between you. You can hear him huff in the darkness, but you're not letting up. Bucky couldn't care less about the blanket. He only cared about not letting you get the upper hand. His competitive streak showing.  
While you solely really didn’t want to let him win. 
You wrap the end of the blanket around yourself—almost like a cacoon. The delicate fleece encases you. Leaving the bare minimum amount for Bucky to cover himself with. 
“ You have got to be one of the most stubborn people I have ever met in my goddamn life,” he practically growls as he yanks forcefully on the blanket. A tiny yelp escapes you as you get pulled along with it. 
You underestimated the strength of the star pitcher. 
You end up on top of him. The blanket now an extra cushy barrier between your bodies. In the dim light, your eyes lock, and you can faintly see the outline of a boyish grin on his face. You don’t move away. There’s like an invisible force that keeps you there. Your body pressed against his feeling his warmth tenfold. You can’t tell if either of you are breathing because all you're aware of now is how his heart beats in time with yours. 
“ You’re insufferable you know that?” you swallow hard, your voice lacking its usual bite.
“ You sure about that, sweetheart?” he challenges, his voice barely above a whisper. His lips brushing against yours with feather-light contact.
When had your lips gotten so close? 
You don’t know who leans in first. The one who finally breaks the standoff because your lips seem to meet at the same time. The kiss is sweet, but with a slight hesitance to it. As if neither of you are completely sure the other wants this. Or more like neither of you believes this is happening. However, when his hands grip the back of your thighs, sliding your legs from on top of him to his sides so you straddle him—you believe it. And when your hands find themselves threading in his hair—he believes it. 
One kiss that tests the waters turns into one that slowly sinks into the feeling. Until the two of you fully submerge into the depths of whatever has been simmering between you for what seems like too long. Delicate kisses that get more heated—more intense as your lips continue to meet. Bucky beams at the fact that you’re no longer pushing, but pulling into him. His craving for you only increasing now that he’s had a taste. 
His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, slow and gentle. Asking for permission to deepen the kiss. Bucky Barnes isn’t the type to be slow and gentle—but when it comes to you he finds himself wanting to relish every second he gets. Not knowing when he’ll get another moment like this with you again. 
Your lips part enough for him to slip his tongue in to truly kiss you like he wanted to. As soon as you grant access he takes full opportunity to explore every corner of your mouth. His tongue molding with yours in fervor. Your fingers lightly tug at his hair while his hands roam your body memorizing every curve and dip. Wherever he gripped and caressed, his touch left heat in its wake. 
A heat you had to contain before it consumed you both. 
“ If you think you’re getting lucky tonight—think again. This is the most you’ll get,” You say breathlessly, pulling away to help your lungs remember what oxygen is. 
He groans, breath panting, the outline of his pout evident in the dim light,“ Don’t do this to me, sweetheart. Can’t leave me like this.” His voice a desperate whine that allured you to keep going. 
“ Too bad. You're dreaming if you think this is going any further.” 
“ God, you don’t wanna know what I've dreamed about.” 
“ Shut up,” you cut off his groan with another kiss. Fierce enough to silence him immediately. He hopes you shut him up like this more often. 
Your lips meet again in a hasty lock. No hesitation now as your tongues meet quicker. You seem to be obsessed with his hair as you run your fingers through it again. He shivers at the touch. His hands slide under your sweater to trail along your soft skin. Keeping his hands along your back and waist. Teetering around the boundary you drew, so he didn’t get carried away. But it was hard when kissing you felt as good as throwing the perfect game—maybe even better.
He realizes the emotions you bring out of him are worth a lifetime waiting for.
He pulls away this time to catch his breath, his hands sliding up your body to cup your face,“ I’m in no rush, sweetheart. I’ve got all the time in the world to take it all the way—make you fall for me.” 
You hum, leaning into his touch,“ You seem sure of yourself. ”
His voice is rough yet affectionate when he speaks,“ I’m sure of you, sweetheart. You’re worth every second, and I’m not stopping until you see it too.” 
He gives you one final tender kiss. One that's full of promise for the future. You weren’t sure if it was his words or the meaning in the kiss that stole your breath away. 
After a few seconds, you both pull away. Separating your bodies from each other to provide that much-needed space before lines were crossed.
“ Goodnight, Bucky,” you say, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how you would keep your hands and lips to yourself come tomorrow. Bucky’s heart skipped a beat when you called him by his nickname. Bringing a genuine smile to his face, loving the way it sounded coming from you. 
“ Goodnight, Y/n.”
Even after saying goodnight, the two of you can’t fall asleep immediately. You try to, but there are small moments in the night where you drift back to each other. Where in the darkness your lips meet again and again—satiating the tension in parts. Where your hands find themselves under the covers and layers of clothing. Flaming the fans of desire just enough so it doesn’t completely burn out, but smoldering to be reignited at any moment’s chance. 
You don’t realize when you fall asleep. Your eyelids growing heavy at some point tangled up in his body under the covers. Your face in the crook of his neck. His head resting on top of yours. Your bodies fit like puzzle pieces like they were meant to be connected in every way. 
It’s not until that morning when you wake up and find yourself in his arms, snuggled into his side, that the events of last night sink in. You pull away the tiniest bit. Merely enough to be able to get a look at him. The brown strands of his hair tousled and clinging to his forehead. The slope of his nose, his dark lashes fanned delicately against his skin, and the tiniest parting of his lips. He looks peaceful—almost angelic as he slumbers. 
You’re itching to sketch the image in front of you. 
You can’t stop yourself from reaching out to touch the strands at his forehead. It’s enough to have his eyes flutter open, their color brighter in the daylight. He gives you a lazy smile the instant he realizes last night wasn’t a dream and you really were here, nestled in his arms. 
No words were exchanged, but both of you were conscious of the line you had drawn last night. And yet, you both also knew that in time, that line would be crossed again and again. Until the line blurred into oblivion.
1K notes · View notes
flwrstqr · 4 months ago
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★ 10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU — NRK
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preview. there are two sisters: yu karina, a popular girl who's eager to date, and yu y/n, an antisocial girl who is totally uninterested in dating. their overprotective father finally agrees to let karina date, but only if y/n does too. to solve this problem, new student eunwoo, who has a crush on karina, teams up with daeho, a wealthy but narcissistic student. daeho pays the school's bad boy, nishimura riki, to take you out on a date. at first, you are a bit resistant, but soon you find yourself gradually falling in love with riki, who starts to genuinely care for you.
meet the cast. bad boy!riki x antisocial!fem reader (feat yeh shuhua from gidle, yu karina from aespa, choi soobin from txt, new ocs)
genre. high school au, strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, romance, crack, ten things i hate about you based, one sided enemies, medium fic
word count. 7k+
warnings. cursing, kissing, profanity (no nsfw or smut), riki just dating yn just for money at first, smoking, parties, drinking, yn being drunk, yn just being very very independent and stubborn, fighting, punching
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danielle's note 𖥔 yes i'm cooking something good again... sorry for writing long/medium fics recently ... i've been obsessing over rom coms again and it gives me a new idea each time. LIKE i dont mean to but it just happens ☹️ but anyways this is for my no.1 fav riki stan (LOVE U)
﹙⠀ PLAYiNG . . . ⠀all-american bitch by olivia rodrigo, boyfriend by ariana grande, kill bill by sza, the perfect pair by beabadoobee, sunny day by beabadoobee, hot to go by chappell roan
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YOU'RE WALKING THROUGH THE BUSTLING HALLS OF YOUR HIGH SCHOOL, the familiar scent of old textbooks and cleaning supplies filling your senses. Your best friend Shuhua is by your side, chatting away about the latest gossip.
Shuhua glances at you, a smirk playing on her lips. “You’re on a mission again, aren’t you?”
You rip a particularly flyer advertising the upcoming dance off the wall. “Someone has to clean up this mess,” you reply, crumpling it in your hand.
Shuhua laughs. “You’re such a rebel. Why do you hate these so much anyway?”
You shrug, “They’re just clutter. Besides, half of these events are pointless.”
Shuhua sighs dramatically. “You’re impossible. What about the spring festival? It might be fun.”
You give her a sideways glance. “You know I’m not into those kinds of things.”
She grins, linking her arm with yours. “That’s why I’m here, to drag you out of your comfort zone.”
You can’t help but smile at her persistence. “Good luck with that.”
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EUNWOO WALKED THROUGH THE BUSTLING SCHOOL HALLWAYS, his eyes wide with curiosity and a hint of nervousness. His guide, Soobin, pointed out different rooms and introduced him to a few students along the way.
“Over there is the science lab,” Soobin said, gesturing to a door on their left. “And that’s the library. You’ll probably spend a lot of time there; it’s pretty nice.”
As they continued down the corridor, Eunwoo’s gaze wandered until it landed on a girl standing by her locker, surrounded by a group of friends. She had long, wavy hair that cascaded down her back and a smile that seemed to light up the whole hallway.
Eunwoo nudged Soobin and nodded toward the girl. “Who’s that?” he asked, his voice tinged with awe.
Soobin followed Eunwoo’s gaze and chuckled softly. “That’s Yu Karina,” he explained. “She’s pretty popular around here. Smart, talented, and everyone wants to be her friend.”
“She’s… wow,” Eunwoo said, unable to take his eyes off her. “She’s really something.”
“Yeah, she’s amazing,” Soobin agreed. “But there’s one thing you should know. Her dad is super strict. He doesn’t let her date anyone. So, if you’re thinking of asking her out, you might want to reconsider.”
Eunwoo’s heart sank a little, but he couldn’t help but be drawn to Karina’s presence. “Thanks for the heads up,” he said, tearing his eyes away from her and back to Soobin.
“No problem,” Soobin replied with a reassuring smile. “Oh, and by the way, I heard she’s looking for a French tutor. She mentioned it to a friend earlier.”
Eunwoo’s eyes lit up. “That’s great!” he exclaimed.
Soobin looked at him, puzzled. “You know how to speak French?”
“No,” Eunwoo admitted with a grin. “But I’m gonna after this.”
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YOU'RE CURLED UP ON THE COUCH, ENGROSSED IN YOUR BOOK. Upstairs, you hear your sister, Karina, moving around. The front door opens, and your dad walks in.
Karina descends the stairs with a hopeful look on her face. "Dad, can I go out tonight with Daeho?" she asks, her tone carefully respectful.
Your dad doesn't miss a beat. "No, you can't go. There are two rules in this house. One, you can't date until you graduate. Two, you can't date until you graduate."
Karina groans, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Come on, Dad, that's not fair!"
He folds his arms and gives her a stern look. "Rules are rules, Karina. And you know why we have them."
Karina sighs heavily, clearly frustrated. "This is so unfair," she mutters.
Your dad pauses, considering something. Then, unexpectedly, he says, "Fine, Karina. You can date... but only if your sister finds a date."
Karina's jaw drops. "What? That stupid girl? She can never find one! She's always in her little corner reading books and obsessing over her little bands!"
You roll your eyes, barely glancing up from your book.Without a word, you close your book and stand, walking out of the room, leaving Karina to her whining and your dad to his lecturing.
As you start climbing the stairs, you hear Karina shout in frustration, "Can you just find a stupid retard who can take you on a date so I can date?"
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KARINA AND EUWNOO SAT AT A TABLE IN THE QUIET CORNER OF THE LIBRARY, French textbooks and notes spread out before them. Eunwoo was doing his best to tutor Karina, but her attention was clearly elsewhere. She tapped her pen against the table, her eyes glazed over as she stared out the window.
“So, uh, for our next class,” Eunwoo began hesitantly, trying to regain her focus, “how about we get some, uh, French food? On Saturday, at 6 pm?”
Karina snapped back to attention, with a huge grin her face. “Are you asking me out?”
Eunwoo scratched the nape of his neck, clearly flustered. “Listen, I know your dad doesn't let you date, but if it’s for French class…”
Karina cut him off, her eyes narrowing. “Wait a minute, my dad just came up with a rule that I can date if my sister does.”
Eunwoo's face lit up with a hopeful smile. “Oh, then that’s great—”
“No, it’s not great,” Karina interrupted again, exasperation in her voice. “She’s a total loser. Well, she used to be popular, but things changed.” She shrugged dismissively.
Eunwoo frowned thoughtfully. “I mean, uh, I can go find someone that would be willing to date her—”
Karina's eyes widened, and she leaned forward excitedly. “Wait, really? That would be great!”
“Yeah—” Eunwoo started to reply, but Karina was already on her feet.
“Oh my god, thank you! Gotta go, bye!” she exclaimed, grabbing her bag and dashing out of the library, leaving Eunwoo sitting there.
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EUNWOO AND SOOBIN WANDERED AROUND THE CAMPUS, their mission clear but their progress slow. Finding the perfect guy to date you was proving to be more challenging than Eunwoo had anticipated. He approached student after student, but each one turned him down, unwilling to go out with someone they considered too independent or too stubborn.
Finally, they found themselves in the science lab, Eunwoo ready to give up. His shoulders slumped as he glanced around the nearly empty hallways.
Then, Eunwoo's eyes landed on someone unexpected. Nishimura Riki, the school's notorious bad boy, was leaning against a lab table, his eyes half-lidded in boredom. A cigarette dangled from his fingers, the smoke curling lazily into the air.
Soobin noticed Eunwoo's gaze and quickly shook his head. "The thing is, he's the bad boy of the school," Soobin explained, lowering his voice. "He smokes, he commits crimes, and someone even told me he sold his own liver for a speaker in the dark markets."
Eunwoo stared at Riki,"That's our guy," he declared with a determined nod.
Soobin looked at him incredulously. "Are you serious? He’s the worst possible choice!"
Eunwoo set his jaw. "Sometimes, the worst choice is the only choice we have. Besides, we don’t have any other options left."
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AS THEY WALKED AWAY FROM RIKI, Eunwoo turned to Soobin, a worried expression on his face. “Do you think this is a good idea?”
Soobin shrugged. “Honestly? Probably not. But I’ve got another idea.” A smirk spread across his face. “I have someone in mind who might be willing to ask Riki.”
During lunch, Soobin led Eunwoo over to a table where Daeho, the narcissistic, rich, and popular boy, was holding court with his friends. Daeho looked up as they approached, his expression a mixture of curiosity and mild annoyance.
“Hey, Daeho,” Soobin began smoothly, “you like Karina, right?”
Daeho raised an eyebrow, nodding slowly. “Yeah, and?”
“Well, I’ve got a plan,” Soobin continued. “Karina can’t date until her sister dates. So, you need to hire a guy who’ll go out with her.”
Daeho leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “And who would that be?”
Soobin pointed across the cafeteria to where Riki was sitting, eating with his friend. “That guy.”
Daeho followed Soobin’s gaze and let out a disbelieving laugh. “Him? I heard he ate a whole live duck.”
Soobin nodded, unfazed. “Except for the feet and beak. Look, he’s a full investment.”
Daeho glanced at Riki again, skepticism written all over his face. “Fine, I’ll think about it.”
Soobin clapped Daeho on the shoulder. “Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”
As they walked away, Eunwoo whispered to Soobin, “Are you sure this is going to work?”
Soobin grinned. “We’ve got the rich guy on board now. What could go wrong?”
Eunwoo sighed, still feeling uneasy about the plan but hopeful that somehow, it would all work out.
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RIKI WAS OUT ON THE FIELD, smoking and lazily watching the soccer game. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the grass. As he exhaled a plume of smoke, he noticed Daeho approaching him, looking uncharacteristically determined.
Riki raised an eyebrow as Daeho stood before him. "Do I know you?" he asked, clearly unimpressed.
Daeho sighed, trying to remain patient. "Listen, you see that girl?" He pointed across the field to you, where you were playing soccer with an intense focus, your hair tied up in a ponytail as you skillfully kicked the ball across the whole field.
"That's Yu Y/N," Daeho continued. "I want you to go out with her."
Riki let out a laugh, the idea seeming ridiculous. "Yeah, right."
Daeho clenched his jaw, trying to keep his frustration in check. "Look, I can't take out her sister until Y/N starts dating."
Riki smirked, shaking his head. "That's a really good story," he said sarcastically. "But not my problem." He stood up, ready to walk away.
"What if I add some money to this?" Daeho offered, desperation creeping into his voice.
Riki paused, turning back around with a raised eyebrow. "How much?"
"$30?"
Riki scoffed. "Movies, that's like $15. Popcorn, that's $45, and then the ride back home, that's like $25. So we're looking at about $75."
Daeho frowned, realizing he was being haggled. "Take it or leave it."
Riki gave him a challenging look. "Fine, $50?"
Daeho hesitated for a moment but then nodded. "Deal."
Riki smirked, pocketing the money. "Alright then, you've got yourself a deal." He turned his gaze back to the field, watching you for a moment. "This should be interesting." As Riki walked away, Daeho couldn't help but feel a mixture of relief.
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AS THE FINAL WHISTLE BLEW, signaling the end of the game, you wiped the sweat off your forehead and grabbed your water bottle. Just as you were about to head off the field, Riki approached with a confident stride.
"Hey, princess," he greeted with a teasing smile.
You rolled your eyes, pausing just long enough to respond. "Need anything?"
Riki didn't miss a beat. "I'll pick you up on Friday."
"Oh right, Friday," you replied sarcastically, the skepticism clear in your tone.
"Well, I'll take you anywhere you like," he offered, trying to sound accommodating.
You couldn't help but roll your eyes again. "Yeah, super fun. Listen, you probably don't even know my name."
Riki's smirk didn't falter. "I know a lot more than you think."
"Oh, very doubtful," you retorted, walking away with a wave of your hand.
Riki stood there, scoffing in shock, watching you go. For the first time, he realized this might be more challenging than he imagined it to be.
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A FEW DAYS LATER, you found yourself at a local record store, browsing through the vinyls and picking out your favorite albums. After paying, you stepped outside with a bag full of records, only to see Riki leaning casually against your car.
"Not a bad car," he remarked, smirking.
You rolled your eyes. "Oh, so now you're following me?"
He shook his head, pointing towards the nearby mart. "I was over there and saw your car, so I thought I'd stop by and say hi."
"Oh, well then, hi," you retorted, making your way to the driver's seat.
"Not a talker?" he asked, watching you with amusement.
You shrugged, your patience wearing thin. "Listen, I'm not interested."
"You're not afraid of me, are you?" Riki teased, trying to gauge your reaction.
"Why would I be?" you shot back, giving him a challenging look.
"Because you want me," he replied, leaning in closer with a mischievous grin.
You laughed, the sarcasm dripping from your voice. "Haha, I want you so bad, baby."
With that, you motioned for him to move. "Now, won't you move?"
Riki stepped aside, still taken aback by your bluntness. You got into the driver's seat and started the engine, leaving him standing there in stunned as you drove away. As he watched your car disappear down the road, he couldn't help but feel that it might a bit tough to get you.
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THE NEXT DAY, Riki was leaning against a locker, a casual look on his face. Daeho approached him, glancing around to ensure they weren't being overheard.
"How's the plan?" Daeho asked, his voice low.
Riki smirked. "I just upped my price."
Daeho raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "By how much?"
"$100," Riki replied confidently.
Daeho hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Deal." He reached into his pocket and pulled out another $25, placing it into Riki's hand. "I expect some results."
Riki pocketed the money, "You'll get them."
With that, Daeho turned around and walked away, leaving Riki standing there, thinking of what to do next.
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LATER THAT DAY, Riki was hanging out near the bleachers when Eunwoo and Soobin approached him. Riki glanced up, noting their determined expressions.
"Hey, Riki," Eunwoo started, "we heard about your little arrangement with Daeho."
Riki raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"Soobin and I want to help," Eunwoo continued. "I like Karina and you know her sister, yn, needs to get a date first."
Riki leaned back, "What's in it for me?"
Soobin stepped forward. "Well you know, we can do some research about her. No money involved, just a mutual benefit."
Riki smirked, nodding. "Alright, deal."
Eunwoo grinned, sharing a knowing look with Soobin, "and we have a perfect opportunity for you to ask her out."
"What would that be?" Riki raises his eyebrow.
"The upcoming party hosted by Bogey Lowenstein."
"i'll think about." Riki smirked as he walked off
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LATER THAT WEEK, Daeho spotted Karina by her locker. With a confident look, he approached her, his usual smirk plastered on his face.
"Hey, Karina," Daeho called out, leaning casually against the lockers.
Karina looked up, slightly taken aback by his presence. "Oh, hey, Daeho. What's up?"
"I was thinking," Daeho began, "you should come with me to Bogey Lowenstein's party this weekend."
Karina raised an eyebrow, "Really? And why's that?"
Daeho shrugged, flashing a cocky grin. "Well, it’s the biggest party of the year. Wouldn't you want to go with the guy everyone’s talking about?"
Karina closed her locker, "A party?"
Daeho chuckled, unfazed. "Come on, Karina. It'll be fun. Besides, you deserve to be seen with someone who can actually keep up with you."
Karina hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "Alright, Daeho. I'll go with you,"
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KARINA WALKED ALONGSIDE EUNWOO VENTING HER FRUSTRATION. "Ugh, I can never go to that party... My dad is gonna kill me!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation.
Eunwoo thought for a moment. "Okay, well, I got a plan. I set your sister up with a boy, but things aren't going that great."
Karina sighed deeply, feeling defeated. "I'm never gonna get to go..."
Eunwoo glanced at her, determination shining in his eyes. "Okay then, tell me what your sister likes."
Karina rolled her eyes. "She said before she would die before dating someone who smokes. And her types are 'pretty boys,' which I don't even know what that means."
Eunwoo nodded, taking mental notes. "Anything else?"
"How am I supposed to know my crazy sister's little mind?" Karina replied, exasperated.
Eunwoo sighed, realizing the complexity of the situation. "Well, nothing has worked so far. We have to go behind enemy lines here."
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LATER THAT DAY, Karina and Eunwoo found themselves sneaking into your room, carefully rummaging through your drawer.
"Aha! A date book, concert tickets, and a reading list," Karina exclaimed, shoving the items into Eunwoo's hands. "That should give you enough information, right?"
Eunwoo looked at the pile, nodding slowly. "Uh, right. This should help. Um, how about your room?"
Karina quickly shook her head. "Oh uhm I think we've got what we need! Let's get out of here,"
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EUNWOO AND SOOBIN approached Riki at school, determination in their eyes.
"Okay, so we figured out some information about her," Eunwoo began. "She hates smokers, so you might have to drop that cigarette."
Riki raised an eyebrow but complied, dropping his cigarette and stepping on it. "Okay, so I have to say I'm a non-smoker?"
Soobin nodded. "Exactly. And she likes feminist prose and angry girl music."
Eunwoo handed Riki a list. "Here's a list of the CDs she had in her room."
Riki scanned the list, his expression skeptical. "So you're saying all I need to do is go to some stupid concert with her?"
Eunwoo nodded. "Well, her favorite band is playing tomorrow, and she'll be there since she got the tickets."
Riki groaned, clearly not thrilled by the idea. "No way I'm going there."
"It's fine," Soobin reassured him. "It's just for one night."
Riki sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. But you owe me for this."
Eunwoo and Soobin exchanged relieved glances, knowing they were one step closer to their goal.
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RIKI TRUDGED TOWARDS THE CONCERT VENUE, hands shoved deep into his pockets. His footsteps were slow, almost reluctant, as he approached the main area where a sea of girls buzzed with excitement. From a distance, he scanned the room, his eyes finally landing on you and your best friend, Shuhua, dancing with abandon. A feeling churned in his stomach as he watched you, and he couldn’t quite place what it was. Sighing, he made his way to the bar.
As Riki sipped his drink, trying to make sense of the evening, you approached the bar for some water. Your eyes narrowed when you noticed him standing there.
"If you plan on asking me out again, you might as well just get it over with," you said, a hint of exasperation in your voice.
"Do you mind? You're kind of ruining the mood here," Riki retorted, his tone defensive.
"You're not with your usual smoke," you observed, glancing around.
"I know, I quit. Apparently, they're bad for you," he replied with a shrug.
"You think?" you shot back, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, you know, the Raincoats aren't that bad," he said, changing the subject.
You looked at him, a bit surprised. "You know the Raincoats?"
"Why don't you?" he countered, standing up as if to leave. You followed him, curious.
"I've just never seen you so pretty under this light," he said loudly, just as the room suddenly fell quiet. Laughter erupted from those around you, and you glanced at him, a genuine smile breaking across your face for the first time that evening. He smiled back.
"Come to Bogey's party with me?" he asked.
You laughed, shaking your head. "You really aren't giving up, are you?"
"Is that a yes?" he pressed.
"No," you said firmly, still smiling.
"Well, was that a no?" he called after you as you walked away, laughter in your wake.
"No!" you shouted back over your shoulder.
"I'll come at 9:30 then!" he declared, grinning as he watched you disappear into the crowd.
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IT'S THE DAY OF THE PARTY, and Karina walks down the stairs, dressed and ready to leave. "Where do you think you're going?" your dad asks, his voice firm.
"To a party," Karina replies nonchalantly.
He sighs deeply, a hint of frustration in his tone. "We talked about this, Karina."
"Well, it's a small party! Everyone in the school is going," she insists.
"YN is not going, then you're not going," your dad states firmly.
Karina's eyes widen in disbelief before she turns to glare at you. "God, why can't you be normal for once, YN?"
You roll your eyes, unfazed by her outburst. Karina then softens, her desperation clear. "Please, YN, go to the dance. Please, please," she begs.
You hesitate, weighing your options. Finally, you relent. "Fine, I'll make an appearance," you agree with a sigh before you change into a more formal outfit.
As you open the front door, you see Riki standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe. "What are you doing here?" you ask, raising an eyebrow in surprise.
"9:30, right?" he replies with a smirk.
"Whatever, I'm driving," you mutter, brushing past him as you head to the car. Riki follows you, a satisfied grin on his face as he trails behind.
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AT THE PARTY, you stand off to the side, observing the chaotic scene unfold around you. People are kissing, drinking, and dancing. Your eyes narrow as you spot Daeho smirking and making his way toward Karina, who lights up as he approaches.
Daeho and Karina begin flirting openly, their conversation punctuated by giggles and playful touches. You feel a pang of annoyance as Karina eagerly pushes you aside to make room for Daeho. You roll your eyes in frustration and grab a random drink from the counter, chugging it down in one go, feeling the burn of the alcohol as it slides down your throat.
Riki approaches you, concern evident on his face. "I've been looking for you everywhere," he says, his voice barely audible over the music.
"I'm getting trashed at a party. Isn't that what you're supposed to do?" you snap, rolling your eyes again as you take another swig from your drink.
Meanwhile, across the room, Eunwoo walks over to Karina, who is still engrossed in her conversation with Daeho. "Oh, Eunwoo," she says, sounding surprised. Eunwoo glances at Daeho with a confused look and then back at Karina, clearly unsure of what to make of the situation.
"Come on, let's go," Daeho says, dragging Karina away. She gives Eunwoo a helpless little wave before turning her attention back to Daeho. Eunwoo pauses, watching her disappear into the crowd, a look of disappointment flashing across his face.
As Daeho and Karina walk around, he talks nonstop about himself, barely giving Karina a chance to speakFeeling annoyed, she turns around and leaves him, while Daeho quickly shifts his attention to flirting with other girls.
Later, Riki is still looking for you. When he finally finds you, you’re fully drunk, dancing on top of a table with the music blaring. Your movements are unsteady, and you accidentally hit your head on a light, nearly falling off the table. Riki catches you just in time, his grip firm yet gentle.
"Come on, you're gonna get a concussion," he says, helping you down from the table and guiding you to a clearer, quieter area away from the throngs of people.
Just then, Eunwoo pulls Riki aside, his frustration evident. "I might give up on her," Eunwoo admits, his voice heavy with resignation.
"No, you can't give up on her. It's either you go for her or go for her," Riki insists, his determination unwavering. He then returns to help you, leaving Eunwoo to ponder his words.
As Riki leads you to a more secluded spot, you try to catch your breath. "Why are you doing this?" you ask, your words slurring slightly.
"Because I told you that you might have a concussion," Riki replies, his tone patient.
"You don't care if I wake up," you retort, feeling a mix of anger and confusion.
"I do," he says, looking into your eyes with sincerity.
"Why?" you challenge him, your voice softer now.
"Because then I'd have to start taking out girls who actually like me," he responds with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.
"Like you could find one," you say, a hint of teasing in your voice. "I just... need to sit down."
You sit down on a swing, trying to regain your balance. As you nearly fall off again, Riki catches you, his cologne mingling with the night air. The scent is comforting, and you lean into him slightly. Suddenly, a wave of dizziness hits you, and you feel overwhelmingly faint. Riki panics, his grip tightening on you, but before he can react further, you open your eyes and throw up.
"Great, just great," Riki mutters, his voice a mix of frustration and concern He helps you sit back on the swing, his hands firm on your shoulders.
As you try to clear your head, Riki sits down beside you, keeping a close eye on you. "You need to take it easy," he says softly, his tone more gentle now. "This isn't the way to handle things."
"I know," you mumble, your head still spinning. "I just... I just needed to forget for a while."
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AS THE NIGHT WINDS DOWN , Riki drives you home, the hum of the engine mingling with the music blasting through the speakers. You're still half drunk, feeling the aftereffects of the party, but a strange sense of clarity begins to settle over you.
"I should do this," you say, gesturing toward the car's interior as you lean back in your seat.
"Start a band?" Riki asks, glancing at you with a teasing smile.
You laugh, shaking your head. "No, install car stereos. My father would LOVE for me to start a band," you add with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
Riki chuckles, pulling up in front of your house. "It must be ass having a dad like that," he comments, turning the engine off.
You shrug, the weight of your family's expectations pressing down on you. "I mean, it's not that bad. It's just..."
"Just what?" he prompts, his tone gentle, encouraging you to open up.
"He wants me to be like, you know, Karina," you admit, your voice tinged with frustration and a hint of sadness.
Riki pauses, considering his words carefully. "Well, no offense or anything... but I know everyone 'digs' your sister. But she's without."
"Without what?" you ask, genuinely curious.
"Without... substance, I guess. She's all surface," he explains, glancing at you with an earnest expression. "But you... you've got depth."
You look at him, surprised by his honesty. "You know, you're not as vile as I thought you were," you say softly, your eyes meeting his.
Riki's gaze lingers on your lips, and for a moment, the world seems to stand still. Feeling a rush of emotions, you lean in for a kiss, but at the last second, he turns away.
"Maybe next time," he says hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper.
You raise your eyebrow, confused and a bit hurt, but you nod reluctantly. "Yeah, maybe next time," you murmur, opening the car door and stepping out.
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RIKI MEETS UP WITH EUNWOO at their usual spot, a small café near the school. The sun is just beginning to rise, casting a soft glow over the sleepy town.
"So, are you giving up on her?" Riki asks, stirring his coffee absently.
"Nope," Eunwoo replies, a wide grin spreading across his face. "It wasn't until she kissed me last night."
Riki pauses, his own smile starting to grow. "Where?"
"In the car," Eunwoo says, still smiling. Riki's smile drops abruptly.
Eunwoo looks confused. "What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything. She would've been too drunk to remember," Riki says simply, his voice flat.
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A FEW DAYS LATER, you’re walking with your best friend Shuhua, enjoying the crisp morning air as you head to school. The sun is shining, and the school grounds are buzzing with the usual pre-class chatter.
"Are you going to prom?" Shuhua asks, nudging you playfully.
You shrug, a nonchalant expression on your face. "Only if someone asks me out. Got no dresses anyway."
"Don’t you got a man?" Shuhua teases, winking at you.
You punch her arm lightly, rolling your eyes. "Oh, shush. I don't even remember anything from that day," you say, feeling a mix of frustration and curiosity about the night of the party.
As you both walk inside the classroom, you find your seats just as the bell rings. The teacher, Mrs. Kim, stands at the front of the room, waiting for everyone to settle down.
"Good morning, class," she begins, her voice calm and authoritative. "Today, we’re starting a new poetry project. Each of you will be tasked with creating a poems over the next two weeks. This project is an opportunity to express yourselves and explore your creativity. Perhaps some of you will even discover a hidden talent."
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AS RIKI IS HEADING TO HIS LOCKER, Daeho approaches him with a confident stride. He pulls out a wad of cash and holds it out to Riki.
"Here," Daeho says, his tone matter-of-fact. "I want you to go all out and ask YN to prom." He counts out $200, handing it to Riki.
Riki sighs, shaking his head. "Do you know what? I'm sick of this game."
Daeho sighs in exasperation, pulling out another $100 bill. "Fine, $300?" He waves the bill enticingly in front of Riki.
Riki stares at the money, feeling a mix of frustration and temptation. Hesitantly, he takes the cash, the weight of the bills heavy in his hand. "Deal," he mutters.
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YOU FIND YOURSELF AT THE LOCAL GUITAR SHOP, testing out a sleek new guitar. The shop is quiet, with only the faint hum of an amp and the occasional strum of strings breaking the silence. You lose yourself in the music, fingers dancing over the frets.
As you play, Riki walks in. His eyes immediately fixate on you, captivated by the way you effortlessly make the guitar sing. He stands in the doorway for a moment, watching you.
Before you can turn around and realize he’s there, Riki quietly slips out of the store, leaving as silently as he came. The bell above the door rings softly, but you’re too immersed in your music to notice.
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DURING DETENTION, the classroom is filled with a tense silence, broken only by the scratch of pencils on paper and the occasional rustling of pages. Riki sits at his desk, focused on his work, when he notices you walk in, looking particularly determined.
You spot him and make brief eye contact. Then, in a moment of clear but silent communication, you mouth the words "out the window" to him. Riki's eyes widen slightly, and he nods.
Without wasting a moment, you walk over to the principal’s desk, where Mr. Thompson is absorbed in grading papers. You start chatting, your voice intentionally loud.
"Mr. Thompson, did you know that the cafeteria is planning to add more vegetarian options next week?" you say, trying to sound enthusiastic. "And I heard they're thinking about changing the school colors to something more vibrant. Isn't that exciting?"
Mr. Thompson looks up from his papers, his attention momentarily diverted. "Really? I hadn't heard about that. Interesting..."
As you continue your rambling, your eyes dart over to Riki. He glances toward the window, then makes his move. He quickly and quietly slips out of his seat and makes his way to the window, sliding it open with practiced ease.
You keep up your distraction, now discussing something completely irrelevant about the new vending machine snacks. "And, oh! The snacks! They might be switching to gluten-free options. I mean, who cares about gluten, right? But it’s a big deal!"
Riki is now halfway out the window, his movements smooth and swift. You watch as he manages to sneak out of the building, disappearing from view.
Seeing him safely out, you wrap up your conversation "Yeah! So, um, thanks for listening, Mr. Thompson. Uhm, bye."
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YOU AND RIKI ARE ON A BOAT DATE.
"Can't thank you enough for sneaking me out of detention," Riki says, glancing at you with a smirk.
You laugh, the sound mingling with the quiet of the lake. "I mean, detention is a pain in the ass anyways." Riki's gaze lingers on you as you look back at him, your smile widening.
"So, what's your excuse?" Riki asks after a pause, his eyes still fixed on yours.
"For?" you prompt, genuinely curious.
"For acting the way we do?" he clarifies, raising an eyebrow.
You think for a moment, then reply, "I don’t like to do what people expect. Why should I live up to other people's expectations instead of my own?"
Riki nods, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Wise words, hmm?"
You roll your eyes playfully. Your gaze lingers on his for a moment before you turn your attention back to the conversation. "Well, I suppose we all need a little rebellion now and then."
"Speaking of which," riki add, trying to shift the conversation to something lighter, "up for some paintball games?"
you glance at riki, slightly puzzled. "Huh?"
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THE PAINTBALL FIELD IS A WHIRLWIND OF CHAOS. Paint splatters everywhere, turning the once-green grass into a vibrant canvas of colors.
You and Riki are in the thick of it, your faces smeared with colorful splotches of paint. You're both laughing and ducking behind barriers, your competitive spirits shining through. After a particularly intense round, you both find yourselves crashing onto a large pile of hay bales, the soft, cushioned landing a welcome relief.
As you lie there, catching your breath, Riki’s gaze drifts from your eyes to your lips. You notice the way his eyes linger on you, and without thinking, you lean in and close the distance between you.
Your lips meet his in a soft kiss. Riki’s hand instinctively cups your cheek. You wrap your arms around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens.
After a few seconds that feel like an eternity, you pull back, breathless and smiling. Before Riki can fully recover from the kiss, you reach for a nearby paintball, holding it up playfully.
With a mischievous grin, you drop the paintball on him, splattering his shirt with a burst of color.
"You’re going to pay for that!" he shouts, his voice filled with laughter as he leaps up and starts chasing you.
────────────────────────────────
AS YOU SETTLE IN, you’re laughing and talking when Riki suddenly leans in and kisses your neck.
“Come to prom with me, hm?” Riki asks, his voice gentle but hopeful.
You glance at him, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. “Is that a request or a command?”
“Come on, go with me,” he replies, his tone earnest.
You shake your head, still smiling but firm. “No.”
Riki’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to,” you say, your voice steady. “Because it’s a stupid tradition.”
Riki’s expression shifts to one of confusion and frustration. “Come on, people won’t expect you to go.”
You narrow your eyes, feeling a sense of unease. “Why are you pushing this so much?”
Riki is momentarily caught off guard. “What?”
“What’s in it for you?” you demand, your tone sharper now. “Why do you want me to go so badly?”
Riki hesitates, clearly taken aback by your question. “So now I need a motive to be with you?” he responds, a hint of defensiveness in his voice.
“You tell me,” you press, your curiosity piqued.
Riki’s expression shifts again, but there’s something off in his demeanor. “You need therapy. Has anyone told you that?”
Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Answer me, Riki.”
He looks away, frustration evident in his posture. “Nothing. There’s nothing in it for me.”
Before you can respond, Riki pulls out a cigarette, lighting it with a practiced flick of his lighter. The sight catches you off guard.
Your eyes widen as you watch him take a drag.
“I—” you start, but your words trail off.
“I need some space,” you say, your voice trembling slightly as you turn and head inside the house.
────────────────────────────────
YOU STAND IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR, admiring your reflection. You're wearing a stunning, floor-length, royal blue gown with delicate silver embroidery along the bodice. The dress has a sweetheart neckline and a slight shimmer that catches the light with every movement. Your hair is styled in loose waves, and you're wearing simple yet elegant jewelry to complement your outfit.
"I'm going to prom, Dad," you call out, grabbing your clutch.
Your dad looks up from his newspaper, smiling warmly. "Oh, okay. Have fun, sweetie."
As you head towards the door, your younger sister Karina follows closely behind. Your dad stands up, puzzled. "Where are you going?"
"To prom?" Karina replies nonchalantly.
Just then, the doorbell rings. You open it to find Eunwoo standing there, looking dapper in his tuxedo. His jaw drops when he sees Karina.
Your dad, sensing something is up, looks between Karina and Eunwoo. "Turn and explain," he demands.
Karina sighs dramatically. "Fine. You know how you said I could date someone only if Y/N does? Well, turns out she found someone perfect for her. And Eunwoo asked me to prom, and I really want to go."
Your dad scrutinizes Eunwoo for a moment before nodding. "Fine, but be back before 9 PM."
Karina's eyes widen in surprise and delight. "Okay, okay! Bye!" She grabs Eunwoo's arm and drags him out of the house towards his car.
────────────────────────────────
YOU ARRIVE AT THE PROM VENUE, the decorations twinkling under the dim lights. The room is filled with laughter and music, but your eyes scan the crowd for someone specific. You spot Riki near the punch table, looking a bit nervous. Taking a deep breath, you walk over to him.
"Hey," you greet, and he turns around, his eyes widening in shock at how pretty you look.
"Hi," he responds, his voice almost a whisper.
"Look, I'm sorry about how I questioned your motives," you say, feeling a bit awkward but sincere.
Riki sighs, a smile forming on his lips. "You're forgiven."
You smile back, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "Ready for prom, then?"
He nods enthusiastically. "Ready for sure."
────────────────────────────────
ON THE DANCE FLOOR, you and Riki are having a blast, laughing and twirling around. The music pulses through the room. Your eyes occasionally dart to Eunwoo and Karina, who are dancing together.
Suddenly, your favorite song starts playing. Your face lights up with excitement. As the chorus hits, you feel a surge of happiness. Impulsively, you lean in and kiss Riki on the lips. He seems surprised at first, but then he smiles into the kiss. His hands on your waist. When you pull back, both of you are laughing, foreheads against each other. What was the worse that could happen?
────────────────────────────────
KARINA IS IN THE BATHROOM, carefully applying her lipstick in the mirror. She takes a step back, admiring her reflection when the door opens, and her best friend walks in.
"What are you doing in here?" her friend asks with a smirk.
Karina glances over, "Oh, Daeho picked me up," she replies, a smug look on her face.
Karina's eyes narrow. "Oh, well, you can have him all."
Her friend shrugs, her smirk widening. "Oh, well, he only liked you for one reason anyway. Plus, he had a little bet going on with his friends."
Karina's smile falters. "What do you mean?" she asks, a sinking feeling in her chest.
"He's gonna nail you tonight," her best friend adds nonchalantly.
Realization dawns on Karina, and a wave of panic washes over her. She doesn't waste another second. Grabbing her clutch, she rushes out of the bathroom, her heart pounding. She needs to find you immediately.
────────────────────────────────
AS YOU'RE DNACING WITH RIKI, he spins you around, making you laugh with joy. Suddenly, the atmosphere changes as Daeho shows up and shoves Riki aside with force.
"Why is Karina with that stupid asshole?" Daeho sneers, his eyes blazing with anger.
Riki blinks in confusion, trying to steady himself. "What are you talking about?"
"I didn’t pay you to take out Y/N for some punk to take out Karina," Daeho snaps, his voice dripping with contempt.
"Nothing in it for you, huh?" you mumble. Without another word, you push past him.
As you weave through the crowd, you spot Eunwoo frantically looking around, searching for Karina. He spots Daeho and approaches him, but before he can say anything, Daeho punches him, sending him to the ground.
Karina, who had been rushing to find you, arrives just in time to witness the assault. Her eyes widen in horror and rage as she sees Eunwoo on the floor.
She swings her fist and lands a punch squarely on Daeho's face. "That's what you get for making me date you, bitch!"
Daeho reels from the impact, but Karina doesn't stop. She punches him again, harder this time, her knuckles connecting with a sickening thud. "And that's what you get for doing that to my sister!"
Daeho stumbles back, his face contorted in pain and shock. The crowd watches in stunned silence as Karina turns away from him, breathing heavily. She rushes to Eunwoo's side and helps him to his feet, her expression softening with concern.
"Are you okay?" she asks, her voice trembling slightly.
Eunwoo nods, wincing as he touches his jaw. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks, Karina."
────────────────────────────────
YOU FIND YOURSELF OUTSIDE THE PROM VENUE, your heart heavy with a mix of anger and hurt. The cool night air does little to calm your racing thoughts. Just then, Riki finds you, his face etched with desperation.
"Let me explain!" he pleads, his voice strained.
"You were paid to take me out by the one person I truly hate? I knew this was a setup!" you snap, glaring at him as you turn to walk away.
Riki quickly grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. "Y/N! It wasn't like that," he insists, his grip firm but gentle.
You whip around, your eyes blazing. "Oh, what was it then? A down payment now and a bonus for sleeping with me?" you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm and pain.
Riki's face crumples, his eyes searching yours. "No, I didn't care about the money. I cared…" His voice falters as he looks into your eyes. He takes a deep breath, his expression softening. "I care about you."
You narrow your eyes, the hurt and betrayal swirling inside you. "You are so not what I thought you were," you say, your voice trembling with emotion.
He tries to reach for you again, desperation clear in his eyes. "Please, Y/N, just listen—"
But you push him away, tears stinging your eyes. "No, Riki. I can't," you say, your voice breaking. Without looking back, you rush away from him, your heart aching with every step.
────────────────────────────────
IT'S POETRY READING DAY IN CLASS, and Mrs. Kim stands at the front, looking over her students. "Who wants to start their poem first?" she asks.
Reluctantly, you raise your hand, feeling the weight of your emotions. Across the room, Riki watches you intently.
You stand up and begin, your voice steady but filled with emotion. "I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme."
You sigh, the words heavy on your heart. "I hate it… I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry." You glance up, tears welling in your eyes as you look directly at Riki. "I hate it when you're not around and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly, I hate the way I don't hate you, not even close. Not even a little, not even at all."
As you finish, you walk back to your seat, tears streaming down your face. The room is silent, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Riki's eyes are glued to you, his expression a mix of regret and realization. He thinks for a moment, knowing he has something in mind.
────────────────────────────────
AFTER SCHOOL, you're walking to your car, and then you see it: a guitar, but not just any guitar—your favorite dream guitar. You freeze, admiring it in shock. You open the front door and grab the guitar in awe, your fingers tracing the strings.
"Nice, huh?" a voice says from behind. You turn to see Riki, smiling.
"A Fender Strat?" you whisper, your eyes widening as you glance at him. "Is it for me?"
He grins. "Yeah, I thought you could use it, you know, when you start your band. Besides, I had extra cash, you know."
You raise an eyebrow, curious. "Extra cash?"
Riki takes a breath, looking a bit sheepish. "Some asshole paid me to take out this really pretty girl."
You stare at him, a small smile forming on your face. "Is that right?"
He shrugs, stepping closer. "Yeah, but I screwed up. I fell for her."
"Really?" you ask, your heart pounding.
"I think so," he murmurs, as he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. His lips meet yours gently at first, soft, as if testing the waters. His hand on your waist pulls you closer, the warmth of his touch spreading through you. The other hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.
You pull away slightly, teasing, "You know you can't buy me a guitar every time you screw up, right?"
He chuckles. "Well, there's always drums, bass, and maybe even a tambourine," he says, leaning in for another kiss.
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euthymiya · 5 months ago
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part of me (is part of you) — ft. todoroki touya
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you realize for the first time, when touya brings you home to his mother, just how much he looks like her. he realizes for the first time, when he brings you home to his mother, just how much he doesn’t look like his father
before you read: fem reader ; non quirk au + canon divergence (enji is in JAIL) ; established relationship ; touya has tattoos instead of burns (he has one burn scar on his back, though) ; rei lives in a peaceful little home of her own like she deserves ; mentions of fuyumi, natsuo, and shouto ; hints at child and domestic abuse (canon enji core) ; food as a love language
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“Keep your schedule free this Friday.”
Touya doesn’t ask, just tells you like he expects it to happen. You roll your eyes, sparing him a glance as he scrolls through his phone sprawled on your couch.
“And if I’m already busy?”
“Then get un-busy,” he grumbles. Then, after a moment of consideration, adds: “you’ll enjoy it, anyway.”
“Why? Are you taking me on a fancy date?” You grin, walking over and giving his head a playful shove. He glares up at you, but lifts his head wordlessly, long enough to let you sit before he lets it fall onto your lap.
“No,” he huffs. “Keep dreaming.”
“You say that,” you tease, poking his cheek as he clicks his teeth, “but you always end up taking me.”
“Not anymore,” he swats your hand away. He pretends to go back to scrolling through his phone, but you can tell he’s not paying attention. Not with how fast his thumb swipes, too quickly to register anything on his screen.
“So what’re we doing?”
“You’ll see.”
“C’mon, Touya,” you flick his forehead, making him grunt unhappily, “you have to tell me. How else will I dress appropriately?”
“Just be yourself.”
“What if my true self is dressing up like a hooker?”
“Well, I’ll appreciate it,” he glances up, giving you a cheeky grin, “my mom might not.”
You pause.
He casually goes back to scrolling through his phone, still not really paying attention like he tries to pretend he his.
“Your mom?”
“The woman who popped me out, that’s the one.”
“We’re meeting her?”
“Well, she’s been nagging about it nonstop,” he sighs, “she wants you to meet the rest of my little siblings eventually, too. There’s no way out of it.”
He sounds irritated by the idea. Unhappy enough that your hand tangles into his hair soothingly, threading through the white strands as his lips curl into a puckered frown.
Touya doesn’t talk about his family. Not much, anyway. Sometimes he gives you short, clipped details about his childhood. Just the fond memories—the ones he hardly looks back on like they’re few and far in between.
Me and my brother Natsuo used to fight over those, he’ll tell you sometimes, when you open a bag of candy.
You sound like my sister, he’ll snort when you cry over his feet on the coffee table.
He has another younger brother too. Shoto, he slurs the name one night, drunk and too far gone to realize what he’s saying, y’know he used to be my dad’s favorite? Before the old man got himself locked up. Man, that brat gets on my nerves.
“You don’t sound too excited,” you murmur softly, running a finger along the bridge of his nose. He shrugs, refusing to look up and meet your gaze.
“S’whatever. Was bound to happen sooner or later. It’s just my mom this time around, anyway—shouldn’t be too bad.”
“I could get sick,” you offer, “from…from sushi you brought me.”
“Why does it have to be my fault,” he snorts, face breaking into a small grin, “I bring you nice things.”
“You do,” you giggle, nodding. “Then…oh! I could twist my ankle falling down the steps. Right on our way there—such a tragedy,” you huff theatrically.
“I like your bright ideas, doll,” he shakes his head, eyes glinting with amusement, “but we might as well get it over with. I already promised her.”
“You sure?” You cup his cheek, staring down at him as he finally looks up at him. Two teal, pretty little eyes staring from your lap. You’ve never gotten a face to match them too, one to show you where they come from.
He grabs your hand, fiddling with your fingers as he mumbles a quiet, “yeah. I’m sure.”
“Okay,” you nod. And then, because you can’t ignore those eyes, you lean down and press a kiss to his forehead.
He relaxes at that, grins as he murmurs, “and then we can fuck on my childhood bed, too.”
“No, Touya. Absolutely not.”
——————————
The drive to Touya’s childhood home takes a good hour. It’s not his first home—he tells you that in the car. His mother moved him and his siblings not long after his father’s trial.
She couldn’t stand being in those walls, he’d mumbled, starting his car, neither could I. The paint was ugly.
I didn’t realize you had an eye for interior design so young, you’d teased. That got a laugh out of him—enough to ease the tension in his shoulders as he drapes a hand on your thigh and starts driving.
You trace the tattoos littering the back of his hand on the way there, finger gentle and light as it maps out the ink on his skin and earns hums of approval from him every now and then.
“We’re here,” he says blandly when he finally parks. “It isn’t much. My mom couldn’t afford something as nice as the one my old man—”
“It’s nice,” you smile sweetly. You mean it. You stare at it with an awed expression as you murmur, “looks cozy.”
Touya pauses, staring at you for a moment before he lets out a shaky breath.
He can’t help but pull you into a kiss—abrupt and hard as his hand cups the back of your head and pulls you against him. “You’re something else,” he mumbles between kisses along your mouth, “you know that?”
“Are you crazy?” You gasp. You still kiss him back, regardless, making him smile smugly into you.
“Why?”
“Your mom might see through the window,” you whisper into his lips, earning a chuckle from him.
“Do you always have to worry?”
“Someone has to,” you hum, rolling your eyes as you finally pull away. You glance at the mirror to make sure your lipgloss isn’t too damaged. (It is. It’s all over Touya’s lips as evidence, too). “You’re not exactly the brightest mind.”
“Well good thing I have you to think for me so I don’t have to,” he says with a wink, sliding out of his door as he does a little jog to reach yours.
You giggle, watching as he opens your door for you and offers you a hand. “Please join me, milady.”
“Why thank you, kind sir,” you beam, taking his hand and stepping out.
Touya spent the better half of his life brooding. Bitter. Something of a cynical guy who hated every happy couple he’d witnessed, wondered why it was like that for them and not him. Not his family. Not his parents. Maybe, if his asshole father had decided to be the husband the old man should’ve been, then he wouldn’t have to dread the idea of you meeting his family.
It feels too real this way. Feels like he has to relive it all just so you can know about it—you deserve to know about it, know about him. And you will. Someday, at least. He doesn’t know if he can handle it right now.
But you seem content with what he gives you, never asking for more than what he offers you little by little. It’s nice. It feels like maybe, in some twisted stroke of luck, maybe he can be a happy couple he used to hate so much, be so jealous of, be so bitter about.
And maybe he could be the husband his father should have been—for you.
But that’s for later. Right now, he has his mother to worry about as you both approach the front door.
“She can be a bit much,” he pauses and murmurs, “just so you know.”
“I think every guy says that about their mom,” you hum.
“You meet a lot of guys and their moms?” He asks offended, giving you a curled pout as you snort.
“No,” you roll your eyes, “quit pouting.”
“M’not pout—”
“Touya,” a voice calls softly before a woman much shorter than him is opening the door and grabbing his cheeks, pulling him down to inspect him.
“Hi mom,” he sighs, letting her study his face before she finally nods approvingly.
“You’ve been eating enough?”
“Yes.”
“Drinking enough water?”
“Yes.”
“Sleeping at normal hours?”
“Yes.”
“No more cigarettes? I mean it.”
“Yes,” he sighs in exasperation, ears burning a slight red. “No more cigarettes.”
“Good,” she nods—and then she looks over at you.
She looks just like him, you think. White hair. Soft, round face. Those pretty lashes you’re so jealous of. The only difference is that she’s missing those beautiful, warm teal eyes of his. Hers are cooler, an icy gray that makes her eyes look sharper compared to Touya’s.
He must have his father’s eyes, you think—it must be why he never looks in the mirror for too long.
“Oh,” she breathes, cupping your own cheeks, “it’s so lovely to meet you—Touya talks so much about you.”
“No I don’t,” he grumbles. “Never mentioned her.”
“Don’t listen to him,” she laughs, admiring you as she holds your face, “he’s very fond of you.”
“Am not,” he huffs. “I don’t even like her that much.”
“I’m sure,” you giggle—his face is turned to the side, the small pieces of his dignity left barely holding him together as he tries to hide his reddened cheeks from you.
His mother ushers you in, hand guiding you on the small of your back as you walk through the small hall into the living room.
It’s as cozy inside as it looks from the outside. Touya’s mother has taken great care to make this house a home. (Rei, she introduces herself. Call me Rei). You suppose it makes sense. Their first house was so far from a home, so desolate of the safeness and comfort it should have had. You don’t know the details—Touya can never talk about it long enough to offer too many.
You’ve stringed together the gist of it through the small details, though.
My old man’s in jail. Gets out sometime next year, I think, he’d said vaguely at the start of your relationship. You didn’t ask any further questions, just squeezing his hand in yours. He squeezed back with a thick swallow.
My mom couldn’t look me in the eyes for years at one point. They reminded her too much of him, he’d said on the first birthday you spent with him. He returned from the other room after a phone call with his mother, eyes hazy and distant as he recalls that small detail of his past. You kissed him extra hard that night.
Got that from my old man, he’d smiled dryly one night, when you’d traced a small burn scar running across his back, pissed him off over something. Don’t remember what. You kissed his scar that night as he slept with his back towards you, curled in your arms.
So much of Touya is foreign to you. So much is not. So much of him is kept locked away to keep him protected so no one who should love him can hurt him again.
This house, however is cozy. Homely. Safe. There are pictures everywhere. That’s the first thing you notice—Touya as a baby, as a toddler, as a young child. Touya on a bike. Touya on the swings. Touya in a pool. Touya grumpy at his high school graduation sandwiched between his two brothers, his sister beaming at the side.
His siblings are everywhere too, of course, but your eyes seem to only find him. He looks happy, you think, despite the less than happy start to his childhood. He looks happy in the few moments stolen by the camera, framed for his mother to look back on.
“You were so tiny,” you giggle, “not much has changed.”
He raises an eyebrow with an amused scoff, shaking his head as he murmurs, “not what you said the other night.”
It’s out of earshot for his mother—or so he thinks. She slaps his shoulder hard enough with a disapproving frown to make him hiss and hold a hand up in surrender.
“Touya,” she scolds, “watch that mouth of yours.”
“Jeez,” he says through a low, petulant grumble, “fine.”
“You let me know if he gives you any trouble,” Rei gives you an apologetic look. You laugh, ruffling your boyfriend’s hair as he clicks his teeth and crosses his arms.
“He’s not much trouble, actually,” you murmur gently, “I think he’s pretty great.”
He softens, face burning with a flush of pink as he looks down at his feet and grunts something under his breath. It sounds something suspiciously close to what a sap, earning an eye roll from you.
But his mother beams—eyes crinkled at the edges as she grabs your hand and pulls you towards the dinner table. There’s plates filled with your favorite dishes, home cooked and piping hot. It makes you realize Touya must have told his mother beforehand: the things you like, the things you don’t. Maybe more.
You lean up, kissing his jaw.
“What was that for?” He mumbles, watching his mother grab plates.
“Because I love you, of course,” you whisper. “I need a reason?”
“You love me, huh? Enough to consider my proposal about my bed?”
“Not that much,” you snort.
He pouts, fighting back a grin as he huffs, “you’re a stick in the mud. Love you too.”
You don’t know much about Touya’s childhood. Bits and parts of the ugliest moments are vaguely familiar to you, shattered pieces of a mosaic you can’t get a full picture of. But you smile at Rei—it feels like grabbing a smooth, unshattered piece and filling in the holes for him, filling in the gaps of love he missed out on.
You take a seat, right beside Touya, watching as his mother insists on plating your food for you. Somehow, despite it being your first time here, it feels like coming home.
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This might be considered ooc idk but I write touya and rei how I want idc this is real to me in a non quirk au
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no-144444 · 1 month ago
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making moves- l.norris
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a/n: HI AND WELCOME TO MY FIRST FIC-TOBER FIC I HOPE YOU ENJOY :)))))
Day 1 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist
summary: Lando and you don't exactly get along and now you're quitting, he'll surely take it well, right?
pairing: lando norris x fem! mclaren publicist! fem! reader
୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ
You turned the corner of the media pen with Lando’s arm in your hand. If he stepped one foot out of line, if one hair was out of place, one unnecessary giggle or joke, you’d lose your mind. You were getting sick of this, of him, of cleaning up every single one of his messes. 
“I said I’m sorry-”
“I don’t want to hear it,” you sighed. You hadn’t studied mechanical engineering and sports journalism for years in college to become a goddamn babysitter. “Just do your interviews and don’t say anything about your relationship status, please Lando.”
He rolled his eyes but obliged, moving past you to start an interview with some sports journal.
You watched the room around you. You would miss this, the buzz of the media pen, the entire paddock, being so close in the action of your favourite sport. You wished it hadn’t come to this. You didn’t want to quit, but you were being driven mad by a 24 year old man-child, and you couldn’t take it anymore. A year and a half ago, you were being driven crazy by how much you wanted him, now, it was his party-boy ways and arrogant smirk that set you off. Lando had always been a popular driver, you understood the attraction on every level. He was a pretty, sometimes funny, and rich man. He was on the younger side of the grid, and he was talented. Christ, was he annoying to work with. He was conceited, self-centred, a manwhore, and downright difficult the majority of the time. You disregarded almost every time he was kind to you, because less than 48 hours later he would do something dickish and ruin your weekend off, or make you cancel a date to come get him from a club because he was drunk and his friends left him alone, blah, blah, blah. You were excited to finally be free of Lando Norris and his asshole-ish ways, yet, maybe you’d miss his face. Anyways, just one race left, and your two-weeks are up. 
୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ Team dinners were simple, you usually sat beside Lily, Oscar’s girlfriend, and chatted with her about her course (the same one you took) and whatever else came to your minds. As the night came to a close, you walked Lily and Oscar back to their rooms with Lando trailing behind, texting on his phone. 
Lily pulled you into a hug. “I’ll miss you so much!” she sighed. “It sucks you’re not even finishing the season with McLaren.”
You shrugged, hugging her back. “I’ll call you, I promise. And we have Greece in January,” you reminded her. She nodded and pulled back. 
“See you in the morning,” she smiled, then disappeared back to their hotel room. 
“See you in the morning,” Oscar smiled, pulling you in for a hug. “You better call her once you land in New York, or she’ll lose her mind,” he chuckled. 
You nodded, smiling. “I will, don’t worry. And I’ll miss you too, Osc.”
He smiled, pulling back. “I’ll miss you too.”
You turned to go to your room, but Lando stopped you. “Why are you going to New York?”
“For my new job,” you explained calmly. “I’m leaving on Sunday night.”
Confusion flashed across his face, and you took the silence as a chance to leave. You brushed past him and continued on your way down the hall. 
“What do you mean you’re ‘leaving’ on Sunday night? Are you going on holidays for the weeks we have off?” he asked, catching up with you. 
“No, I start my new job the next week and I need to get my apartment unpacked and sort out my office,” you explained. 
“What? Why are you doing that?”
“Unpacking my apartment? I’ll be living there-”
“No, moving? You have a job, y-you work here, you work with me,” he stumbled through his sentence and you raised an eyebrow. 
“Did Stella not tell you? I’m leaving after the race this weekend. I sent in my two-week notice almost two weeks ago. I got a job offer from the New York Jets and I took it. Anyway, good night Lando, I’ll see you in the morning,” You continued on your way to your room. 
“You can’t just leave! What will I do without y- someone to-”
“Get your laundry and fix your mistakes in the media? You’ll be getting a replacement when I leave. His name is Will, he’s organised, and he’s quite funny. I think you’ll get along.” 
“What will I do without you?” he gritted out. “You’re meant to be here, with me, and now you’re leaving? How am I supposed to feel?”
“Imparcial I’d assume.”
“Imparcial? Y/n, come on, you can’t be that blind?” This was a different version of Lando than what you were used to. He was usually a brass and confident arsehole. Yet, here he stood in front of you, upset that you were leaving. 
“Blind to what? The way you abuse your power? The way you make me do your bidding? The way you make me cancel important things in my personal life to fit your schedule of heavy drinking? The way-”
“The way I’m in love with you?!” He practically shouted. You clapped a hand over his mouth and a surge of panic ran though you. You pulled him into your hotel room after you and sat him on the bed, then proceeded to pace the room. 
What did he mean he loved you? He hated you. He made your life a living hell. He made sure you’d have to see him everyday. He made sure you’d be in his apartment building. He made sure to-
Oh. Shit. He loved you. 
“Y/n,” his voice was soft. “You need to calm down.” 
You turned to him. “Calm down? What the fuck do you mean ‘calm down’? I’ve just spent the last fucking year and a half burying any and all romantic feelings for you, tried to hone in on all of your flaws to make myself hate you, quit my job to get away from you, and now you’re telling me you love me? What the fuck Lando?!” 
“You had romantic feelings for me?” He blushed. 
“That’s what you got from that?!” 
He chuckled. “I’m sorry, alright. We can work this out, just tell Andrea you don’t want to quit-”
“Lando I’ve accepted the job offer in New York, I’ve signed the contract. I can’t back out,” you sighed, putting your head in your hands. “You really have great timing,” you scoffed. 
He smiled, placing his hands on your waist. “Then we’ll make it work,” he shrugged. “I want you, if you’ll have me.” 
You looked up at him. Were you really doing this?  Lando Norris was your typical male celebrity in his twenties. He had everything he could ever want, any girl he could ever want, and he wanted you? Every insecurity and logical bone  in your body told you to run away. You’d seen what the internet did to girls he was seen in public with, let alone a girl he actually came out and admitted to dating. Was he worth being torn apart for? 
“You’re killing me here,” he laughed to hide his fear. He’d waited a year and a half for this moment. He wanted you more than anything. He wanted to be able to call himself your boyfriend and get to call you his girlfriend. He wanted you around him all the time. Every time he’d found out about a date you’d been on or met a guy you’d been seeing he was filled with jealousy. He was yours, he just needed you to be his too. 
“Lando, I don’t know if this is a good idea-”
He pressed his lips to yours and it was undeniable. This was what you had been searching for. That stupid ‘spark’ all those rom coms talked about all the time. Kissing him was like fireworks. He brought your hands up to wrap around his neck and smirked when you kissed him back. You fit together so perfectly, his lips against yours, your skin against his, everything. 
You pulled back slowly. 
“So can I be your boyfriend now?” he whispered, the hint of a smile on his lips. 
“Only if I can be your girlfriend,” you smiled back.  He pressed his lips to yours again. Maybe he was worth being torn apart for.
୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ
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textmel8r · 6 months ago
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[ SMAU + DRABBLE ] 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ! ( eighth installment ) in which you find toji fushiguro’s number off a sugar baby site .
୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.
୨୧˚ incl; toji fushiguro
୨୧˚ cw; sugarmommy! reader , sugarbaby! toji , smut , submissive toji , finger sucking , masturbation , oral sex (f!receiving) , profanity
୨୧˚ an; so not happy with my writing in this one, probs will rewrite it one day but here, have a couple thousand words of smut🗣️ this is lowkey another filler but lowkey not at the same time? i wanted to fit in another intimate moment before shit goes south awooooooo
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You were not fibbing when you said you knew your way around the kitchen. “Holy fuck,” Toji all but moans, tearing into another piece of tender meat with his canines. It was juicy and seasoned almost too much, just the way he likes it. He squints across the table, where you eat in tandem with much better manners than he could ever hope to have. “Who taught you how to cook like this?”
You shrug bashfully under his gawking, wiping your mouth with a dainty stroke of the napkin you had placed in your lap. “I traveled a lot in between semesters at college. Italy, France, Denmark…” You list a few more places that Toji wouldn’t be able to point out on a map. “Those European countries do food so good, I guess it inspired me to give my best shot at it as well.” Self taught, huh? Yeah, you seem like the type to succeed in everything you try. 
The man nods, ultimately wishing he had more to add. He wishes he had just an ounce in common with you, a smidgen of relatability to offer. But he doesn’t. Toji didn’t finish school. He’s never left Japan. He’s never cooked a damn thing from scratch in his life. You must’ve caught on to his struggle and decided to show mercy by adding, “actually, right now we’re eating steak au poivre.”
“Steak au po–” He cut himself off before inevitably butchering the name. “What is that? French?”
You’re nodding enthusiastically. “That’s right. I happened upon this dish when I was staying in Bordeaux with a few college mates.” There’s a sweet smile tugging sheepishly at your lips as you recall the memory. “I fell in love with it the second I tried it, and asked the manager right then and there for the recipe.”
Toji shakes his head with disbelief, talking with his mouth full of food. “You’re just full of stories, aren’t you?”
“Some would call me experienced, yes.”
His brow raises. Experienced? Was that a come on? Toji gives way to his own quaint smile, jutting his chin toward you. “Say it again.”
“Say what again?”
“Steak au whatever.”
You oblige his request, repeating the name back slowly so he could attempt to grasp it. “Steak au poivre. Now you give it a go.”
Toji finishes chewing the mouthful of peppercorn-laced meat, swallowing it down with a swig of the Château Cheval Blanc you’d poured at the start of the meal. Some fancy French imported wine is what he gathered from the long winded description you waxed as you topped off an extravagant glass for him. Wine never really appealed to the man—he usually went for the harder shit. The type that you knock back from lowball glasses. The type to get you piss drunk after three rounds—but it was all you ever drank. It was safe to say he was becoming accustomed to your tastes. Maybe the sweetness wasn’t so terrible. He clears his throat, putting embarrassingly too much effort into his “steak au poivre.” It doesn’t sound pretty the way it did leaving your mouth, and he grimaces. “Can’t fucking do it.”
“I thought you sounded good.” He scoffs at that, but you click your tongue. “I’m serious.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll just leave the French speaking to you.” The plate before him sits scraped clean. You’re still working on your dinner. Fuck, you’re a slow eater. “You know any more?”
“Any more French, you mean?”
He nods along with a gruff hum, swishing his tongue around his teeth, collecting anything left over of that smokiness from the peppered steak. 
“Hm. Tu m'as manqué, Toji.” You hide your grin behind the rim of your glass. 
Thick forearms crossed over chest, he croons a deep, barely-there chuckle. “I heard my name. Tell me what you said.”
“No way,” you chortle.
“Ah, c’mon. You’re all blushy.” He licks over the chappedness of his lower lip, knowing gaze latched onto your lips. It was hypnotic, your smile. “You say somethin’ dirty about me, ma’am?”
The way in which your eyes widened coquettishly at the accusation had Toji’s heart beating just a bit more erratically. Like a fawn, he thinks. All that was missing on you was a white, cottony tail. 
“If I said something dirty, It would have been in a language you could understand.” Finally, you take the last bite off your dish as well. Hopefully that means dinner is officially over; Toji has been craving dessert since he stepped foot in your house and got showered in ‘welcome back’ gifts. “I’m not the type of woman easily embarrassed by my sexuality. I thought you would have picked that up by now.”
He persists. “What are you embarrassed by?”
“Toji.” His name is spoken sharply, a verbal warning that he was tiptoeing the line. Threatening to shatter that layer of thin ice he stood upon. This is what he’s been needing. This is what he’s been fucking needing.
“I’ve been thinking about you, ma’am.” Any semblance of a filter is long gone, melted by the sheer heat of his desire. His limbs feel heavy, hands tumbling into his lap. They rest on the wide surface area of sweatpant-clad thighs, just sitting there. Feeling himself. “This entire week, I’ve been thinking.”
You seem to get the implications of his confession. “In a sexual way?”
“Yeah.” That’s a white lie. To be truthful was to admit that the sexual thoughts Toji let himself think about you were the minority. Objectifying you in the depths of his mind wasn't enough. He thought about your breasts, sure. He thought about your curves, and your ass, and your mouth, and every other body part that would grant him pleasure. But that wasn’t enough for Toji. Fixations of his tended to lead him astray from fantasies, instead breaching carefully saved memories stored within his brain catalog. When he touched himself, it was more or less to remembrances of mundane tasks you’d dealt him in the past. All the times you had bestowed little gifts and knick knacks on a whim just because they reminded you of him. Or when you drag him to the outlets with you for a shopping spree and he’ll act miserable the entire time, but you both knew it was a horribly crafted facade. Or even, like now, when you’d treat him to dinner because you worry over him and his eating schedule. The little things really counted; a revelation that scared Toji shitless, so he opted to ignore those budding, foreign feelings and replace it with familiarity: lust.
“Toji, honey, are you alright?”
What? His breathing pattern was off kilter, and the muscles of his jaw flexed unconsciously. When had he started palming himself? His right hand had grown a mind of its own apparently, because when Toji stole a glance downward, there it was; kneading roughly at the bulge between his meaty thighs. How desperate was he? To go dormant like that, so consumed with the thought of you that he began to instinctually masturbate himself not even five feet away from where you sit. And why… Why wasn’t he stopping?
“Can we fuck now?”
“Oh.” You barely look shocked. Not the slightest bit appalled like he expected you to be. Instead, slide off a ring that took purchase wrapped around your middle finger. A sigh escapes you as you place the band on the table. “I still have more to ask you. I wanted to know how your work trip went.”
Toji shakes his head, something akin to a toddler trying to get fed vegetables. “No.”
“No?”
“I don’t wanna talk about work.”
“Why not?” You frown, leaning forward against the tabletop. “Was it bad?”
He knows what you’re doing. Trying to make him spill any details about his job. Well, he won’t give in. 
A heavy sigh slithers out hoarsely from the deepest part of his lungs, and Toji presses his palms to the table, pushing himself up. He stands tall, much like the tent at his crotch, and slinks along the roundness of the dinner table, walking his fingertips across the top all the while. “I don’t want to talk,” he reiterates, breathy and abrasive.
Finally, Toji stands before you. Still, you are seated, unbothered by the towering man’s presence. No, you’re swirling your wine glass sophisticatedly, lips pursed into a narrow line. Like you’re the slightest bit irritated with his persistent defiance. 
God, you won't even look at him.
Or maybe, you were never irritated at all. Toji cops a second glance to your lips, finding the faintest ghost of a frown. “You’ve been acting so… so removed. Ever since you left.” Now you’re looking at him; Toji shudders under the intense fire that billows behind your eyes, wide and wetted with worry. “I want you to feel like you can tell me things. I want your trust, Toji.”
You have his trust. Every last crumb of it resides in the palm of your soft hand.
“... And I know that it’s stupid—I’m stupid for wanting that from you. I know what this relationship is, and I know that there are these unspoken boundaries, but I—I can’t—”
It was the first time he’d ever heard you speak with such a volatile expression. There was a tremble of uncertainty in your vocal chords, carrying into the skittish dialogue that tumbled out in rambles. Something about such a show of pity from you, his Y/n, made his guts churn like butter. He can’t listen to this any more. With swiftness, Toji dives down to press his mouth against yours, swallowing the words that die on your tongue. One hand grips the back of your chair, the other holds the roundness of your cheek. He feels your gasp, feels the way your shoulders jolt in surprise, but he doesn’t release you.
This was really only his second instance of kissing you. The first had been in his bed, with his groin pressed to yours, tongue fighting its way to the back of your throat with greedy fervor. This second kiss was anything but greedy, though. Despite the ache that roiled at the base of his stomach, Toji didn’t serve you a kiss that reflected his desire. Tongues never met and spit was never swapped; just lips on glossed lips. 
At last, Toji reluctantly peels away. Lipstick residue feels heavy on his mouth, and he knows he probably looks foolish donning remnants of your dark lip lacquer, but he doesn’t move to wipe his skin. The circular bottom of the wine glass clinks as you clumsily set it down, freeing your hands. They branch upwards, finding his face. A pair of thumbs rub the sensitive pads of flesh beneath his eyes, massaging out those ugly, darkened bags that have accumulated as a result of many sleepless nights. It feels orgasmic, the way you handle him. 
“I trust you.” The words are out in the air before he has time to think.
You brighten, sunshine hiding in the crevices of your smile. “You mean that?” You ask him, hands petting down the sides of his neck.
He meant it wholeheartedly. The amount of trust left within Toji was scarce. Too many bad people fucked him for life; showed him the meaning of the phrase ‘trust is earned.’ So it really fucking freaked him out how quickly you came to earn it. A little over a year-–that’s how long he’s known you—you’ve have plenty of time to fuck him over. To batter him. And yet, you haven’t. All you’ve ever shown him was kindness and consideration and warmth and everything else Toji never knew how bad he was thirsty for.
“Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”
“I trust you, too, Toji.” 
He wonders if he deserves that. Because really, what has given you besides his annoyingly closed-off dickhead attitude? He provides fuck all, but you still stick around. 
Toji doesn’t say anything. He swoops once more, capturing your lips in a hungrier kiss than before. All the playful innocence is tossed aside, forgotten in lieu of Toji’s devastatingly furious need to consume you. Tongues finally greet each other in a spittle-slicked tango; he dominates yours with ease, worming behind your teeth just to collect your sweet flavor. Wine, he thinks. You taste like your goddamn expensive ass wine.
He feels feverish. One-track minded, hyper fixated on you. On your crossed legs underneath the table. “Fuck,” Toji breathes into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip.
Your hand clashes against the hard wall of his chest, patting it softly. A wordless signal that you need some air, so he retracts. “Let’s go to the bedroom.” 
The plea goes in one ear and falls right out the other. Toji leeches against your neck, dragging the flat of his wet tongue over that little throbbing pulse point. His teeth grate against your flawless skin, completely none the wiser that you’re even talking to him. You thwack the back of his head, and he lurches into the crook of your shoulder, muffling a groan.
“No marks, I’ve got work.”
His eyes roll, face still burrowed against you. He couldn’t give less of a shit about your job right now. 
“Come on, let’s go to my room.” “Gimme a sec.” He’s still licking below your jaw, making his way down. This stupidly lavish house had been cursed with three levels, your bedroom holed up at the very top floor. Like hell Toji was going to part ways with your glorious body so you two could safely make it up the two ridiculous staircases. Fuck that.
“Toji, I’m… serious…” Your raucous pants of anticipation suggest otherwise. Toji has sunken to his knees, crawling beneath the table and finding a home on the floor before your seat. His kneecaps scream in discomfort as they pin heavily to the wooden floorboards, but Toji bears the pain well ( he’d always been somewhat of a masochist ). Your legs are still crossed, one knee hinging over the other. 
“Open these.” Two calloused hands cuff around the thinnest parts of either ankle. Your legs were conspicuously smooth; did you shave for him? There is an attempt at delicacy when Toji pries your legs apart, and it makes you giggle. 
“Here?” You laugh more. Toji suspects you’re patronizing him in a way. “I haven’t even cleared the table. Are you really so impatient?”
And here Toji thought he exercised his patience well. He didn’t jump your bones the second of his arrival. No, he waited like a good boy until after dinner. “I’ve waited for this the whole week.” Restless hands walk up those porcelain calves, strong and lean from working in high heels. They wander up, hooking beneath the junctures of your knees; Toji uses his celestial strength to his advantage, maneuvering both legs with ease until he’s got them resting comfortably over his broad shoulders. Toji turns, cocks his head to give a serpentine lick to the inside of your thigh. Then a bite. “Don’t make me wait any longer. I’ll fucking die.”
You peer down at him. “Don’t talk like that.” You feel yourself. Small hands groping your chest, sliding lower and lower. “You’re not going to die.”
His mouth feels sticky, like there’s a spoonful of honey under his tongue. “I might.”
Your heel drives into his upper back, an impish little warning that makes him throb all over. “Don’t talk like that, I said.” Those manicured hands have garnered Toji’s full attention. They descend all the way to the hem of your luxurious dress, wrenching into its hem. It’s the sexiest sight Toji had ever seen: you pulling your dress up with the quickness of a sloth, inching the fabric up until it scrunches around the dip of your waistline. 
“These are hot,” he murmurs, thumbing the waistband of the scarlet panties. They were tight, sinking into the ample pudge of your hips and soft tummy. So fucking beautiful, he thinks, the contrast between deep red lace and the flesh of which it lays upon. The perfect, little present gift wrapped in a low-rise lace thong. “Bet they cost a pretty penny.”
You spare a breathy exhale through your nostrils. “I don’t look at price tags when I buy things for you.”
You bought these just for him? “You spoil me.”
“You deserve to get spoiled, baby.”
He is so mind numbingly turned on. Sickening tendrils of appetence bleed into his vision, his lust coils around his limbs and guide his movements like a marionette. Toji thumbs your—his—panties to the side, soaking in the sight of that pretty pussy he’s longed to be back inside of since the moment he pulled out. His face is close, so fucking close that he can feel warmth radiate off your core and deepen his flush.
Perhaps this is how he begins his journey of repayment. Ever indebted to you, despite your odd relationship being a mutually agreed upon situation, Toji fears you’ve truly altered him. For the better or worse he isn’t sure yet; all he knows is that you make him feel good. Better than he’s felt in fucking ages. You said he deserves to get spoiled? Well so do you, too.
Toji eats you with erotic vigor, delving into the deepest parts of your cunt with his lascivious tongue. He’ll be the first to admit that he doesn’t possess many skills. He isn’t terribly smart, nor is he gifted with great conversational skills like you. He isn't good at holding a real job. Isn’t very good at expressing himself. Not good at abiding by the law, or staying sober, either. But if ever there was an artistry in which Toji had full confidence he had mastered, it was oral sex.
“Oh, Toji,” you gasped, forcing his face deeper with a hand on the back of his skull. “Right there.”
Toji dug you out, excavating your hole with expertise. One hand slipped up beneath your dress, under your bra, pawing at your breast whilst the other busied itself in his pants. He stroked himself to the heady taste of pussy, fanning your clit with hot puffs of breath. You writhe against his open mouth, hips dancing, hands grabbing.
It’s more enjoyable like this, Toji thinks briefly. To not expect a wad of bills afterward in exchange for his velvet tongue. He eats you for leisure, because he wants to, and because you want him, and no other reason. It’s enough that you both need each other.
Toji groans loosely when you yank his hair, getting off on the way you move his head to your liking. “Suck my clit,” you instruct quietly, and he obliges with upmost obedience, nose nuzzling against the tuft of hair at your pubic bone.
Toji opens his eyes for the first time in a while, then thanks God he did. You look something like a goddess, celestial and righteous in the way your body works against his face. Using him to cure an insatiable desperation, with your lids screwed shut and head tossed back on your shoulders. “Are you gonna cum?” He sits up on his haunches a little taller, a little more alert now to fully experience your orgasm. “Cum in my mouth.”
He begs for it. Begs like a little bitch. Over and over again, mumbling the mantra between rough suctions to your swollen clit. Begging wasn’t like him. His father beat the beggar out of him many years ago, said it was weak to yearn for things so badly. The old man was right, Toji has never felt weaker than he does right now, knelt under the table with his head between your thighs.
“Oh my God.” Your voice is strained thin, each syllable pulled taught. The vice grip on his roots start to sting, follicles ripping from the scalp, but doesn’t tell you to stop. “Toji, fuck you’re so good.”
He’s good.
“You’re so good.”
“Mmn.” He squeezes himself, chokes his dick hard. Toji feels it when you cum. Warmth floods the cavern of his slack mouth, gushing and creamy. You fall silent, stunned by the force of your orgasm he presumes. Toji licks you through your high, guzzling down every drop of wetness that seeps from your spasming slit. It’s hot and gushy and messy; cum dribbles past his lips, collecting in beads that roll down his tensing neck.
Only when you blindly push at his face does Toji part ways with your center, leaning past your trembling hand to nuzzle into your stomach. It’s concave with an ongoing exhale; he nips at your navel. “Breathe.”
“Toji,” you whisper. On the come down, you’re a lot nicer; those needy, grabbing hands of yours now stroked down the tangled mess of his damp shag. He presses a handful of sloppy smooches above your belly button.
The erection trapped in the confines of his pants twitch at the dreadfully angelic drawl of his name. “Good?” His question is gruff and pointless as ever; anyone with eyes could tell you just had the most Earth-shattering orgasm of your life.
Your head lolls forward, rolling down to face him. Fingertips brush his chin, collecting the sticky residuals that dampened his stubble. You take your lower lip in between teeth when you bring those same soaked digits to Toji’s open mouth. He doesn’t resist you. Fingers are welcomed; he unhinges his jaw, baring the same holy tongue that just drove you to Heaven. You wipe cum-ridden fingers against the muscle, and Toji clamps around them in a vacuum-esque suction, looking up at you through dark lashes all the while. Your thumb traces the raised flesh on his upper lip. That ugly, jagged scar.
He catches your wrist when you move to flee his mouth, holding you in place. Sucking on you, touching himself along the way. Lapping between fingers, tonguing the thin web of skin there.
“So good, baby boy.” There’s the praise he craved, the praise he played oblivious to get. You claw deeper, jutting towards the back of his throat, pulling a scratchy gag from the man. What kind of fetish was this? You made everything sexy, even whatever this humiliation ritual was; watching him choke down slippery fingers with fat tears bleeding at his waterline. “You are so beautiful, Toji.”
“—oh en nah,” or no I’m not had there not been a barrier blocking his teeth from touching. Toji knows he’s an aged man, one riddled with scars and wounds and bruises and gauges and what have you. His skin is nowhere near perfect, baring disgusting reminders of what he does—who he is. Beautiful is what he’d call someone like you. Someone calm and serene, humble and kind. You’re a beautiful sight, and you’re also the complete and utter opposite of him.
“You are.” He wanted to be inside you for this. Toji had been daydreaming this scenario over and out in his head over the long haul of the week, going through the motions of his plan to fuck you. He’d give you everything tenfold, a barbaric fucking unlike your first time together. He imagined finally showing you his version of things, bending you over the couch first thing and blowing his load deep into your cunt.
Toji choked again, and a single thick tear fell from his lashes. You whispered sweet prayers, holding his face, wiping his eyes, fucking his mouth with fingers that tasted of your cum. It was a damn mystery how you rendered him so fucking pitiful, to be nutting on his knees into his boxers like this. A damn mystery.
His breaths are ragged when he explodes, hand and cock obscured by the sweatpants that sat low around his hips. Toji doesn’t stop pumping, tugging the shaft with long, hard strokes, wringing himself dry. Dark eyes weld shut, and he collapses against your thigh with a quake of exhaustion. Toji doesn’t know when you withdrew your fingers; the only tell that gave it away was the string of saliva that slapped coldly against his chin in the wake of your removal. He mewls, a graveling sound that sounds as if his voice box had been dragged through a sea of razor blades.
“You alright?”
A flowery hand slithers beneath his damp cheek, and suddenly his heavy head is being lifted. Toji is forced to meet your soft gaze; adoration brims in your eyes, as though you’re proud of him for creaming in his briefs like some flimsy virgin.
“Answer me, please.”
Toji smacks his mouth, preparing for his voice to project broken and fragmented. “I’m fine.” He could do without the pity; you were cautious to a fault. He wasn’t made of glass.
“You’re filthy.”
He grumbles, feigning grumpiness and averting his eyes off to the side. “I just had your pussy in my mouth.”
You bend at the waist, leaning down to meet him for a kiss. Toji melts against you, cradling your face with his semen-stained hand. You don’t seem to mind the wetness. He’s pouting against your mouth, childlike. “I wanted to cum inside you.”
You latch onto his nose, nibbling the point. “Let’s go clean up.” There’s a telling smile etched onto your lips, and your mouth finds his ear. Whispering ever so sensually, “I have a big shower in my bedroom.”
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deadsetobsessions · 8 months ago
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Alley Drunk! Danny AU- Pt. 4
[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3]
Danny blinked down at the cart, where a red hoodie and pants with red stripes along the side laid over the lip of the cart. Considering they’re in this universe’s brand of Marget- seriously, who names a store Target? If anything in Amity Park was named that, Skulker would have wrecked it in five seconds flat- it’s hilariously on brand. Though, to be fair, this was Gotham’s version too, which meant a lot of security guards (who definitely doubled as goons for the Rogues, Danny was sure) and the vibes were spooky.
“I’m guessing red’s your favorite color.”
Instead of the humorous way he meant the sentence, Jason looked up anxiously and Danny immediately hated himself a little bit more.
“Sh- I can put it back..?” Jason hunched in on himself.
Danny tracked the movement with clearer eyes than he’s had in a long while and ancients, does it remind him of how Dani was in front of Vlad all those years ago. And Danny has spent his entire half life being not like Vlad, so he’s not going to start now.
“Nah, you should definitely add some more stuff. This is no where near enough clothes.”
It really wasn’t. Danny had taken Jason to the store to pick out clothes- “Ther’s a second hand store down the stree’, ya know,” Jason had mumbled when they went through the doors- but the kid had only tentatively put in a small red hoodie and some pants in the cart. Now he had to put this in a way that’ll wipe the stubbornly hesitant look on Jason’s face off.
“Think about it this way, then. You’re repping me now, and while I might be the alley drunk, I’m not the poorly dressed alley drunk, yeah?”
“Oh. Tha’ makes sense.” Jason nodded to himself determinedly, and the kid strode over to the t-shirt section. For all of his confidence, he still glanced back to see if it was okay with Danny.
Well, Dani was the same way before she found her confidence (when she knew Danny wouldn’t abandon her or hurt her) so Danny just gave him a thumbs up before reaching into the rack and sweeping an armful of clothing straight into the cart. Then, he strode over to the jackets and grabbed the ones in Jason’s size and slightly bigger. Oh, he has to grab shoes. He’ll leave that for later, but Danny was going to get those ratty trainers off of Jason’s feet and into the nearest trash can if it was the last thing he does.
The halfa hummed, pausing at the first decidedly not miserable sound he’s made in a while. Dammit, if that wasn’t a sign of Danny’s attachment to Jason, he doesn’t know what would be. To be fair… Danny already committed murder for the kid, which was pretty much something he thought he’d never do, so in for a penny out for a pound or whatever.
He put a significant amount of the budget aside for the section labeled “JASON” so Danny shopped without a worry. Charlie’s ill-gotten assets were a good monetary compensation for his crime of existing near Jason or existing, period.
He picked up toiletries, toothbrushes and the like, when Jason came back sans t-shirt. Instead of a shirt- Danny had actually hoped that Jason would try to get multiple shirts- Jason was clutching a book.
Before he could even voice anything, Danny plucked the book out of his grip and put it into the cart with a disarming smile.
“Oh, good idea. We should get you books too. Wanna go pick out some more?”
“Uh- y’re just gonna get a book, just like that?”
“More than one book, I should hope. You are going to school, right?”
“…Yeah!” Danny couldn’t fathom ever being excited at the thought of school, but as Jason bounced away to peruse the admittedly poor selection of books, Danny couldn’t help but think that maybe he should give this education thing another try. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be less stressful now that he’s not Phantom.
Danny walked to the aisle next to the books and promptly proceeded to shove every single piece of stationary he thought was nice- pens, gel pens, cooling pens and pencils, a thick stack of notebooks, flash cards, etcetera- into the rapidly getting full cart.
Jason came back with three more books- nice, the classics- and froze at the sight of the cart.
“Oh, hey. Getting all of those?”
“Wha’- wha’s wit’ the stuff?”
“School supplies! Quality education starts with quality supplies, you know!” Danny said, a sliver of the grin that used to come so easily to him making an appearance on his face. "Don't worry, I budgeted. See?"
Danny handed Jason a piece of paper, confident that the kid would know if it was good or not.
"Where'd... ya get all of this?"
"Hmm... here and there."
Jason looked up at him, squinting suspiciously. "I hear' Charlie's gone poofed up."
Danny shrugged and put a calculator in the cart. "Oh, I'm sure he's busy."
Yeah, Danny thought vindictively. Busy being dead.
"Ya sound like a walking con," Jason said as he visibly decided to give up fighting against Danny's spending. "We nee' food."
"Gotcha. Well, if you need anything else, just bring it into the cart."
"I want veggies. Frozen, 's cheaper."
Danny nodded, resisting the urge to ruffle Jason's hair.
----
"Hey, you's the Alley Drunk, right? 'Bout that boy you've been toting ar-"
Danny punched the guy in the face, dropping him like a stone. He looked up slowly and swayed.
"Any of you ask about my kid brother again, and I won't bother with being drunk when I hit you."
Rapid nods. Danny shuffled away, satisfied.
----
Two weeks later, after a school day, Danny finds Jason heading to the bathroom with a box of...
"Hair-dye?"
Jason, who was marginally more relaxed and assured that Danny wasn't going to kick him out, nodded.
"Dye's fadin' n' I dun wanna get nabbed on the streets for having red hair."
Danny blinked. "You have red hair?"
"Sure do. See? Roots are showin' again." Jason pointed at his scalp where Danny could see the hair was getting lighter.
"Right. Well- I'll leave you to it. Let me know if you need help, kiddo." Danny said, desperately hoping he hid how off kilter he was feeling well.
"I don't need help, ah've been doing this for ages." The kid went into the bathroom and closed the door harshly. When the lock clicked and the faucet began running, Danny let himself slide down the wall into a crouch, hands cradling his head.
Red hair. Blue eyes. Tan skin. The facial features. The intelligence and empathy.
Danny chuckled hysterically under his breath.
Was Jason this universe's version of Jazz?
"Fuck."
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mattyriddlesbitch · 6 months ago
Note
Oh my good oh my GOD kinda modern au,. Slythern truth or dare happenings- the dare mattheo is to look through readers camera roll and showcase the most embarrassing photo. Reader thinks nothing of it and forgets about the set of nudes taken that got sent to no one. But then you see his face redden and jaw clench and then it just continues but he confronts her after
Yes! I gotchu!
Truth or Dare
Mattheo Riddle x F!reader
Warnings: Oral(Female receiving), fingering, cussing, unprotected sex
18+ Minors DNI!
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You were sitting with your friends, Pansy, Mattheo, Theodore, Lorenzo, Draco and Blaise after one of their parties ended, all of you still pretty drunk, but slowly sobering up. You guys were playing truth or dare and it was Theodore’s turn.
“(Y/N), truth or dare?” He asked from his spot as he laid on the couch.
“Dare.” You smiled, kneeling in front of the table on the floor.
“I dare you to let Mattheo go through your phone to show us your most embarrassing photo.” Theo smiled back.
You handed your phone to Mattheo, who was sitting on the couch that you were in front of. You didn’t know Mattheo had a crush on you. But Theo did. And he saw this as a chance to let Mattheo go through your phone without you caring since you were drunk.
Mattheo looked through your phone, smiling as well. He stops scrolling, smile fading slightly as his face reddens. He stares for a few seconds more before scrolling again. You almost missed the way his jaw clenched. After a few moments, he found a picture and showed everyone, making them all laugh, but he stared at you. His eyes roaming over you in an almost possessive way. He gave you your phone back and leaned back on the couch, keeping a fake smile.
People slowly excused themselves to bed and finally you decided to as well. Mattheo excused himself, too, offering to walk you back. You just nodded, a little too tired and still a little tipsy to care. He walked you with a hand on the small of your back.
Once you reached your dorm, he closed the door behind him. You sat down on your bed, taking off your shoes before realizing he was still there.
“You okay?” You asked him.
“You had nudes on your phone.” He said bluntly as he stared at you.
Your face heated up, remembering the nudes you took. You did it just to feel good about yourself, not to send to anyone. “Fuck. I forgot about those.”
“Clearly.” You could hear the irritation in his tone.
“I should’ve deleted those. I’m sorry. That’s embarrassing.” You said, avoiding eye contact as you tossed your shoes to the side.
“Who’d you send those to?” He asked, his eyes never leaving you.
“No one.” You admitted, fiddling with the end of your skirt.
“Most people don’t take nudes for ‘no one.’” He said, walking over to you so he stood in front of you.
“Well, I did. No one got those photos.” You said, shrugging slightly as you watch your hands playing with the hem of your skirt.
“Why would you take them then?”
“Just to feel better about myself.” You shrugged again, feeling awkward about the whole encounter.
He raised your head up to meet his eyes with a finger under your chin, leaning down to get closer to your face. “So no one else got to see your little nudes you took? Just me?”
“Yeah. Just you.” You nodded, staring him in the eyes, still blushing incredibly hard.
“You know, you're so pretty.” His tone became soft, his eyes wandering along your body for a moment before he decided to lean down further and kiss you.
Your tipsy mind took a few seconds to respond before kissing him back. He pushed you to lay down on the bed, nudging himself between your legs.
He made quick work of your clothes, he had seen you naked already, now he wanted to feel you. He leaned back once he got you naked, admiring you. His hands wandered along your body, feeling your thighs, your stomach, your breasts, your arms.
“You're fucking beautiful. You don't know how mad I got thinking you sent those pictures to someone else.” He admitted. “I've wanted you all to myself for a while now.”
“This seems a little unfair right now.” You squirmed under his touch. “You getting to see me naked but I haven't seen you naked.”
“So impatient.” He tsked before slipping his fingers inside you. “Fuck, you're soaked.”
“Matty, please!” You grabbed onto his wrist.
“Let me take my time with you.” He grabbed your hand and held it down to your side with his free hand.
You moaned, squeezing your legs around his sides as they tried closing on his hand.
“I've been thinking about getting you like this for so long. Thinking about touching you like this. Thinking about how you feel.” He kneeled down between your legs. “How you taste.” He said before licking your pussy. He let go of your hand, wrapping his arm around your thigh to keep them opened, your hands moving to tangle in his hair.
“Fuck, Matty, so good.” You moaned, watching him as he ate your sweet cunt. His eyes were locked on your face, wanting to see every reaction he could pull from you.
He just wanted to hear all your pretty sounds, feel you tug his hair, have you cum on his face. His finger and mouth kept their assault on you, making your legs shake around his head, making you try bucking into his face, making you moan and cry, until he finally made you cum as you cried out his name. He groaned as you pulled on his hair, helping you ride out your orgasm.
“You're fucking perfect when you cum, baby.” He said as he stood up, now stripping down himself. “You gonna give me one more, yeah?” He asked as he settled back between your thighs, sliding his dick through your folds, nudging at your clit.
“Yeah.” You nodded, biting your lip as you watched his cock.
“Good girl. You just lay there and look pretty.” He eased his tip into you, hearing your moan as he began to stretch you out. He slowly pushed in, wanting you to feel every inch as he did. “You're so fucking tight, princess. Feels so fucking good.”
“Fuck, so big.” You whined, hands gripping at the sheets.
“It's gonna feel so good, baby. Gonna mold you to my cock so no one else feels as good as me.” He said before he started rocking his hips. You both moaned as he leaned down over you, his hands roaming over your skin again, landing on your breasts. He massaged them with his hands, pulling one away after a moment to attach his lips to your nipple.
“Fuck, that feels good, Matty.” You moaned, back arching into his mouth.
He started thrusting faster, harder, wanting to make you feel good, wanting to bury his  cock deeper in you. “You have no idea what you do to me, angel. I need you to cum on my cock. Need to feel you squeezing my dick.”
Your hands moved to hold onto his arms, feeling the muscles as he held himself over you. You were moaning and whimpering, eyes rolling back from the pleasure.
“That's it. Who's making you feel this good? Who's dick is in you right now?” He asked, hips relentlessly driving into yours.
“You! Your dick! Fuck, Matty!” You cried out, feeling your orgasm about to hit.
“That's right, princess. Mine. Cum on my cock.”
Your orgasm hit you hard and your body shook as you cried out his name along with some profanity. He helped ride out your orgasm before pulling out and cumming on your stomach.
“You're mine now.” He said softly before kissing you.
Taglist:
@jeannie-beannie @yourenogoodforme @mixvchelle @helendeath @ireallyneed-somesleep @soaked4abby @hpnsfwaddict
Let me know if you wanna be added!
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rachalixie · 8 months ago
Text
can’t get you off my mind
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all good love stories start with a drunk stranger, don’t they?
warnings: mentions of alcohol, fem!reader
genre: fluff, comfort
word count: 4k
it starts at a bar. 
or really, it starts with a man at a bar. one that you’ve seen before in passing, a familiar face in a sea of more familiar faces. someone who you’ll later learn is one third of your best friend changbin’s production team, someone who you should have met years ago probably, someone who you would find is the perfect puzzle piece that fits into your jagged edges.
but right now, he is just a man at a bar with a beer in hand and a ridiculously dopey smile on his face. 
“marry me, please,” he says, absolutely serious but it’s a bit diluted from the way his words were slurred around the edges. “or i’ll have to kidnap you.”
“excuse me?” you raise a brow at him, his image swimming a bit as you turn your head to fully take him in. you’re not drunk, but youre a couple glasses of wine deep and you’re not known for being fully articulate whilst sober anyways. 
“i swear i’m going to marry you,” he says, eyes wide as he looks at you. “you might be the most perfect person i’ve ever seen.”
you’re not overly fond of men you haven’t met hitting on you, but this one seems a bit harmless. if you ignored the part where he said he would kidnap you. at least he wasn’t grabbing onto you or trying to touch you - that would have sent your fist flying towards his face and probably a swift exit from the bar. it was a little weird that you didn’t find him weird, but in retrospect you must have known, even then. 
“okay, listen,” you put your hands on your hips, giving him an unimpressed look. “if you find me when you’re sober, ask me again and maybe i’ll reconsider.”
“okay,” he nods, hair moving along with his movement like a puppy’s ears. “i can do that. i’ll find you, i promise. i’m gonna marry you, did you know?”
“so i’ve heard,” you roll your eyes, already feeling a bit fond about him. you didn’t think you’d meet him again, but you were sure that you’d look at this night with a fond smile later. 
he sends you the brightest smile you think you’ve ever seen on a person and scampers off, and you stand rooted to that one sticky spot in the bar for longer than you want to admit.
he’s in the back of your mind when you wake up the next morning, in a better mood than most - you never liked waking up early, it always took you a good hour and some coffee to be able to stand without grimacing. this morning though, you float around your apartment as you get dressed with a small smile on your face. 
a cute stranger who kept his boundaries and called you perfect? that wasn’t something that happened often, at least not to you. 
the floatiness followed you all the way through your morning routine until you found your feet stopping outside the coffee shop that you and changbin all but owned. you had no stock in it, but you’re sure that you supply them at least half of their revenue, you probably sit on their rickety chairs more often than your actual couch at home. this place has nursed you through every college class and job interview preparations and beyond, and if it ever closed you might lose time off of your life span. 
your movements from the door to the counter to your usual seat were robotic, muscle memory taking over while your head did somersaults through the clouds. it’s only when you take the first sip of coffee, the bitterness and heat hitting your tongue in a delightful dance, that you notice it. 
another man is sitting next to changbin. a man that looks awfully familiar, and it takes you a moment to realize why. it’s the man from the bar. 
“changbin?” you keep your eyes on the other man as you direct your question at changbin, trying hard to keep your face neutral. “explain?”
“i’m chan,” the man interjects before changbin can answer, reaching his hand across the table for you to shake. it’s warm, his grip somewhere perfectly in the middle of too hard and too soft, and he lets go after an appropriate amount of seconds. despite the neutral passivity of the gesture, you feel something ignite within you, and it threatens to sputter out when you catch no spark of recognition in his eyes. was he that drunk last night that he doesn’t remember you? do his sober eyes not find you as perfect?
“he crashed at my place last night,” changbin’s voice filters through your turmoil, and you finally break away from chan’s gaze to level him with a look. “and he needed coffee, so i brought him along. chan, this is y/n, my best friend.”
the conversation that followed flowed more freely than the coffee dripping from the machines behind the counter, and you almost hate how much you like it. chan is a little goofy, the man from the previous night shining through moments of seriousness and rapt attention. 
by the time you had to leave to go to work you felt like you knew him. you learned where he lived (close to you!), that he worked with changbin (he’s a producer!), and that he loved all animals but he adored dogs (he has one named berry!). just an hour of casual conversation had led to you needing more of him in every aspect of your life, but still in the back of your head lived the thought of him not remembering you from the night before.
changbin leaves first, citing some meeting he had to run to in the middle of a yawn, and when you were left with chan the embarrassment began to set in. 
“i’m going to marry you,” he blurts out, startling you so much you almost jump out of your seat. 
“what?” you ask, a mixture of surprise and disbelief combining into a confusing vortex within your head - was he going to go through this again? you didn’t know if your heart could take it. 
“i mean, i remember you,” he says before you could awkwardly excuse yourself and commit to getting to work early for the first time in a year just to escape being in a room alone with him for much longer. “i’m sorry, i was just embarrassed. i didn’t want to make a fool out of myself in front of changbin.”
“oh,” your breath leaves you all at once and you slump into your chair, understanding hitting you like a train. “that makes sense? i think?”
“i’m going to marry you,” he repeats, a mischievous glint in his eyes, the boy from last night shining through. “one day. i’m going to do it.”
“take me on a date first,” you tease back, a genuine smile stretching across your lips when he laughs, a full bodied thing that drew in eyes from the patrons across the room. for once, you didn’t seem to care that others’ eyes were on you. he made you feel comfortable. 
“what are you doing tomorrow?” his mouth turns upwards into a beautiful smile that you can’t help but return. 
“eager, are we?” you open your phone, sliding it across the table with the new contact page open on it. “i’m free.”
“you’re the most perfect person i’ve ever laid eyes on,” he says, as serious and genuine as the way he had proposed to you last night as he taps his number into your phone. “sorry if i’m a bit desperate.”
“don’t apologize,” you take your phone back, making a mental note to text him later. “i like it, for some unearthly reason. you’re cute, chan.”
the sound of his delighted laugh follows your footsteps all the way to work. 
— 
he picks you up for your first date at noon, right on the dot. he wasn’t a minute late, a polite knock sounding through your apartment just as the hour turned, as if he had been waiting and watching the time outside the door. 
god, is everything about this man endearing? 
he’s wearing shorts and a light sweater, looking like something out of a posh magazine. his hair is curly and swept off his forehead and he’s wearing a smile with the most adorable dimples shining through. 
he leads you to his car and you have to hold back an impressed whistle. you knew changbin and his team did well for themselves, the name 3racha all over the credits of songs on the radio, but this car was nice. you were going to have a talk with changbin about why he still drove the same beat up sedan he’s had since college but that was a thought for later. right now all you wanted to think about was the man who held the door open for you to slide into the passenger seat and was now holding your hand over the middle console. 
“do i get to know where we’re going?” you ask, peering at the map open on his phone but it tells you nothing more than that your destination was 15 minutes away and that he had to make a right turn in one mile. 
“it’s a surprise,” he says, voice a little nervous but it was masked with excitement. wherever he was taking you, you would be happy to be there if he was this happy the whole time. 
four songs on the radio later, one of which you teased him for when he revealed that he wrote it, he was pulling into a parking lot illuminated by flashing colorful lights. he had brought you to the fair. 
“i’ve never been to the fair!” you bounced a little in your seat, wriggling in excitement. “i’ve always wanted to go, how did you know?”
“lucky guess?” he shrugs, avoiding your gaze as he cuts the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt. 
“changbin told you, didn’t he,” you smile at the thought of chan asking his friend about what you’d like. it was cute, a word that you were probably exhausting when thinking about him even after a day of knowing him. 
“yes, but,” he flushes, the tips of his ears burning red. “i asked him after i had decided to come here, just to make sure it was a good idea. i didn’t steal it from him.”
“hey, it’s okay,” you squeeze his hand in yours that he had yet to let go of in what you hoped was a comforting gesture. you didn’t know what brought him calmness yet, but you wanted to learn. you wanted to learn everything about him. “now, take me to the fair, bang chan. i was promised a date.”
he finally meets your eyes again and he’s grinning so happily that you feel like you had just won a prize. who needed a fair when you had your very own carnival game right here? 
it turns out, you did. by the time the sun was beginning to set, your arms were full of various plushies that chan had won for you, each one earning him a hug and a kiss to his cheek. you treasured every single one, the fluttering in your chest when he stepped up to the booths to throw and shoot various things never ceasing. 
“let’s go to the ferris wheel,” you tug at him with your free hand, thanking the skies when you see no queue there. “i bet the sunset looks beautiful from the top.”
he’s quiet when he follows you there and into the carriage, his thigh pressing against yours as he slides in next to you, but you don’t notice in your excitement. it isn’t until the wheel ticks to the top and stops that he grabs your hand again, trembling a little. 
“chan? are you okay?” you ask, concern warping your voice as you turn towards him. your movement rocks the carriage a bit and he turns pale, ducking his head into your neck to hide. 
“yeah, ‘m okay,” he murmurs, his eyelashes ticking your skin when he blinks his eyes shut. “just don’t like heights very much.”
“oh my god, why didn’t you tell me?” you cry out, jumping a bit and regretting it when you rock the carriage again. “nevermind that, what can i do? it’ll go down soon, you’ll be alright.”
“just keep holding my hand?” he squeezes your fingers lightly and your heart melts. you may have made a joke that he was just trying to trick you into holding his hand any other time, but the fear in his shaking body was real and you’d never tease him for that. 
“of course,” you press a kiss to his hair, moving your other hand slowly to wrap around your intertwined fingers. the wheel begins to turn again, swaying the carriage as it descends. you keep your grip on his hand tight the entire time, all the way until you’re on your feet again on steady ground. 
“i’m so sorry,” you begin to say, the horror of subjecting him to his fear creeping up now that the crisis has passed. 
“i’m going to marry you,” he says, cutting off your apology and lifting your hands to his mouth so he could press a kiss to the back of yours. “no one’s ever been able to keep me that calm. thank you.”
you were left speechless after that and all you could do was smile at him, the ghost of it not leaving your face for the rest of the night. 
your thirty first date with chan ends with you crying into changbin’s arms, utterly confused and the feeling of despair creeping up your veins. you had met him your cafe as you had done several times since the fair, but when you arrived he wasn’t there. he came late, dark storms in his eyes and a hard set to his jaw and you didn’t understand what had made him like that. the usual smile and twinkle in his eyes were missing, and when you and asked him about what was wrong he had snapped at you in a way you hadn’t been talked to in years. 
you had left after that, brushing him off when his eyes had widened and he reached for you while calling out your name. you know that you should have given him a chance to explain, but at the time you were too hurt to consider it. 
you made your way to changbin’s apartment without thinking, your feet taking you to safety before your head could catch up. changbin had taken one look at your face before wrapping you up in his arm, walking you to his couch so he could cuddle you properly while words spilled out of you like a leaky faucet. you felt like you were back in college, crying and blubbering over a boy who had rejected you at a party, and you hated it. 
you didn’t notice changbin sending an angry text to chan, but the sound of changbin’s door opening with a bang startled you out of your tears. chan bursts in like a whirlwind, his hair sticking up at weird angles and a look of panic on his face as he takes you in. he reaches the couch in a few strides and falls to his knees in front of you, holding a crumpled bag from the cafe in his hand and taking your cheek gently into his other. his thumb wipes at the tear tracks there and you could practically taste the guilt emanating off of him. 
“love, i am so sorry,” he starts, ignoring changbin when he scoffs at the apology. “i shouldn’t have snapped at you, i had no right to do that. i got some bad news this morning and i wasn’t feeling my best, and i should have been honest with you. i’ll never do anything like that again, please forgive me? i’ll do anything.”
it was more his voice than his words that did it - he sounded so desperate, like he was trying to hold
onto a ledge that was crumbling, threatening to hurl his body into eternal nothingness. you knew him, you knew he was sorry, and against your first instinct you trusted him when he said he wouldn’t do it again. 
“is that an almond croissant?” you eye the bag in his hand. 
“it’s two almond croissants,” he nods fervently, his hair swishing back and forth with the movement. you sit up, sliding out of changbin’s arms and onto the floor in front of chan. chan’s arms replace changbin’s easily when you lean into him, and it feels like coming home. 
“it’s not like i have a nice couch you could be sitting on,” changbin mutters as he leaves, shaking his head fondly at the two of you before making himself scarce. 
chan kisses you, cradling your head gently into his hands, and they’re so warm. he slides his lips against yours, slowly like he’s taking his time memorizing the planes of your mouth to commit to memory. even after kissing him dozens of times you still find new things to learn about each other. 
“i swear,” he says, pulling away to meet your eyes. “i’m going to marry you, someday.”
“keep getting me croissants as apologies and we’ll see,” you say, sniffling into his neck. 
your eighty seventh date was spent in your bed, your head spinning like both hands on a clock simultaneously and your body exuding more sweat than you ever have. 
chan is wringing out a cool cloth to place on your forehead and it feels so nice that you moan. 
“i’m sorry,” you mutter, and chan has lost count of the amount of times you’ve said it at this point. “we had a date and i ruined it.”
“we were going to see a movie,” he says, running a hand up and down your spine. “and we will. we don’t need a movie theater when we have a screen right here, hmm?” 
“but the popcorn,” you complain, closing your eyes in bliss when he runs a hand through your hair, scratching gently at your scalp. an apology for being so sweaty was at the tip of your tongue but you hold it back in favor of enjoying the feeling of his touch. 
“i’ll make you all the popcorn you want when you’re feeling better,” he promises, dropping a kiss to the side of your head. “for now, how does soup sound?” 
“popcorn soup?“ you ask, a wave of dizziness taking over your body; if you weren’t lying down already, you’re sure that too would be falling over. 
“yeah, baby,” and even in your delirium the fondness in his voice was prominent. he couldn’t hide it even if he tried. “i’ll make you some popcorn soup. get some rest okay?”
you’re asleep before he leaves the room, and you only wake up when he shakes your shoulder a bit and helps you into an upright position. he feeds you bites of what is definitely not popcorn soup after putting a movie on your laptop, the screen sitting at the foot of your bed. the both of you fall asleep before the movie finishes, but you don’t mind. 
he stays with you for days, making you soup and tea and toast and feeding you medicine and being an all-around angel as he nurses you back to health. by the time you’re better you think you’ve fallen back in love with him several times. 
as you had expected and warned him about, he catches your sickness the next week, and now it’s your turn to be his nurse. you try and do the same job he did, but his delirium seems worse. the silver lining is that his fever isn’t as bad, so you’re babysitting a babbling boyfriend more than a sick one. 
the night before his fever breaks is the worst, since he doesn’t even recognize you. you shake your head at his silliness when he asks who you are and calls you pretty. you smile when he takes your hand in his and asks you to come closer. 
you tear up when he tells you that he has a girlfriend that he loves very much and so even though you’re pretty he can’t do anything else because his girlfriend is the prettiest one in the whole world. you let a tear slip when he tells you that he can’t wait to propose to his girlfriend and that he’s going to marry her someday. 
you tell him that you have a boyfriend that you're going to marry someday, trusting that he wouldn’t remember it in the morning. 
your hundredth and fifth date was not unlike your fifth, or your tenth, or your ninetieth. two and a half years later, you were just as endeared by him and he was just as obsessed with you - even more so, if it were possible. 
he takes the time to tell you how gorgeous you look when he picks you up just like he does on every date, and you hide your disgustingly fond smile for him behind his back like you do every time you see him. 
he parks and runs around the car to let you out like he does every time you habit this restaurant, a little fancier than your usual best but it was a favorite of the both of yours - across the street from the bar the two of you had met at. 
you start walking before he does, letting him jog to meet you and complain about how you left him, just like you do every time. before him. you might have thought the monotony would have gotten tiring, but he had a fantastical ability to make every moment feel like the first despite their practiced nature. 
he calls your name from behind you right on schedule and you hum in acknowledgement, turning towards him absentmindedly. the second you lay eyes on him you’re completely alert, though; he isn’t jogging after you, but rather he’s kneeling on the sidewalk, a small box in his hands as he smiles up at you. 
“i’ve told you that i’m going to marry you more times than i can count,” he starts, eyes shining like the stars twinkling in the night sky above you. “but this time i’m asking you.”
“chan,” you choke out, hands coming up to cover your mouth as it quivers. tears spring to your eyes and you silently curse yourself - you always thought you’d be level headed when you got proposed to, but nothing could have prepared you for this, not even the thousands of declarations he had made to you prior. 
“i love you. you’re the only one in the entire universe that i need more than blood or breath, you’re the song that runs through my heart and the fire that leads my path when i’m lost,” his voice is thick, like he’s trying to hold back his emotions long enough to get his words out. “i never thought that i would feel so strongly for someone, i never thought that i deserved a love like this until i met you.”
he pauses as you walk closer to him, letting you approach him before he continues. 
“my love, my eternal light,” he’s tearing up now, blinking fast to keep the salty water at bay. “will you marry me?”
“chan,” you start, kneeling down next to him and taking his wrists in your hands. “i never told you this, but ever since that first day i knew. i knew that the drunk idiot that was hitting on me would be my husband.”
he chuckles, smiling delightedly as the tears finally spring from both of your eyes in unison.
“so?” he trails off, searching your face with his eyes, waiting. 
“oh!” you tighten your grip on him in an apology. “of course i’ll marry you, gosh i love you so much.”
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haetrack · 8 months ago
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thinking abt cockwarming w himbo!haechan but he gets too needy and pussy drunk that he just thrusts into u…
a/n: oh wow… wow… umm who else can’t breathe… pretend that a hard hour can be this long… i got too excited… mdni
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“what are you doing, haechan?”
his grip on your hips loosen, finally realizing what he was doing. he takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm down his mind. this was supposed to be a relaxing, bonding moment with you, but haechan couldn’t sit still. not when you’re wrapped so tightly around him.
“i… was trying to get comfortable…”
“of course you were.”
haechan came up to you today to randomly bring up how he wanted to try cockwarming. you weren’t surprised, considering who he is. it’s not that you didn’t want to do it with him, it’s more so not knowing if he’ll be able to keep still.
he quickly drags you to your bed once you agree, you try to see how long he can last. you’re quick to realize he can’t sit still for that long.
after five minutes of a small conversation, small sounds, and his hands holding your back, he starts moving. he’s shifting his hips around, tries to subtly stuff his cock deeper inside you. you wonder if he knows you can feel him getting hard.
there’s even a point where he tries to grind you down onto him, trying to get you to fuck him instead. you can’t have that though, which leads you to now.
“haechan, you wanted to do this.”
“i know, but you just-“ he hisses a bit when he shifts his hips up, “you just feel so good, baby.”
you can hear the pout in his voice, your eyes rolling at the whiny tone, “let’s just… let’s just go to sleep. if you can’t handle it like this, let’s just try to sleep.”
he lets out a shaky breath, eventually nodding at your words. your head rests at his shoulder, he can see how your eyes close.
he tries. he really tries to calm down and close his eyes. but how can he? he can’t when he feels your warm walls around him, can feel how every time you move, you push him in deeper. it’s really not his fault that he grows hard, he needs you.
his hands travel back down to your hips, trying hard not to grip onto them. he bites back a groan when he shifts under you, cock pushing into you. he can feel your walls clench around him, can feel your eyebrows furrow at the feeling.
you’re pulsing around him, can feel you start dripping all over his cock. he can’t hold back any longer, grip tightening on your skin as he mindlessly starts thrusting in you.
you gasp out in shock, his hands immediately moving to your back and caging you against him. he’s so close, you can hear the soft whines he lets out at the feeling of finally getting to fuck you.
“h-haechan, wait. you just-”
“you felt too good, needed to fuck your pretty pussy, i’m sorry-”
he sounds genuinely apologetic as his cock drives into your cunt. there’s no rhythm to his movements, too desperate and needy to form any proper thoughts. your slick makes a mess of his thighs, the loud squelch filling the room along with how noisy haechan’s being.
he’s babbling in your ear, saying that he’s sorry he couldn’t hold back, how good you feel, how he wishes he can have you like this forever. it gets to you, you can’t help but grind down onto him.
when he hits your sweet spot, you clench harshly down onto his cock. he throws his head back onto the pillows, moaning out your name as his fingers dig harshly into your skin. “g-gonna cum already, baby. you feel too good, can’t help it.”
you nod against his sweaty skin, eyes looking up and seeing how tears roll down his face. his cheeks are red, stained with his tears as he makes eye contact with you.
the sight of your pretty face is almost too much for him to handle, almost cumming at the sight. he’s so close, can feel his cock throbbing, overwhelmed by your sweet pussy.
it’s when you start bouncing your hips against his that he gives up, quickly cumming inside your cunt. he’s whimpering out your name, blunt nails digging into you. “thank you- fuck, thank you for letting me cum!”
his words set you off, seeing him so drunk on you causing you to cum all over his cock. his hips fuck into you when you clench around his, loud whimpers filling the air as you grind against him.
all that’s left in the room are your heavy breaths. haechan runs a hand up and down your back, kisses laid on top of your head. it’s quiet, except for the fact that you remember this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
“you do know that literally wasn’t cockwarming, right, haechan?”
“i know… i’m sorry. we can try again! i know what i’m supposed to do now!”
you sigh, your hands making their way to his hair. he hums appreciatively, sinking into your touch. you suppose it wouldn’t be so bad to try again. you do question him though, “you promise?”
before he can nod, you shift on top of him. he tries hard to stop his cock from twitching, but fails. it only gets worse when he sees the annoyed look on your face, not being able to stop his hips rutting into yours.
his hands grip your ass, “well, we can always go for a round two, right?”
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mayasikeu · 17 days ago
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The air in the club was thick and sticky with the scent of sweat and cheap perfume. The sound of loud music filled your ears as your eyes scanned the crowd, taking in the drunk bodies moving sensuously against each other in the red dim light.
You suddenly locked eyes with someone. A guy who was around 6’0 and had jet black hair that matched his jacket. You could feel his dangerous aura from the distance and it only drew you in more.
Heeseung smirked, his gaze intensifying as he took in your body before taking a sip of his drink. You bit your lip anxiously, not knowing if his stare was flirtatious or not. Without breaking eye contact, he began to move through the crowd, heading straight towards you.
You could feel your heart beat faster in your chest with each step he took. You felt your breath hitch as he stopped right before you. The view of your slender frame and the swell of your perky breasts only excited him more, not to mention the knee high heels you were wearing that made your legs look a mile long.
“Are you with someone?” he asked, putting his drink down.
“No,” you laughed, “Unfortunately I’m here alone tonight.”
“Me too,”
"You wanna dance?" he said, his eyes never leaving yours.
You nodded, unable to talk as he grabbed you by the wrist and led you to the dark corner.
The music got louder, the beat vibrating through your bodies as you grinded on him. Heeseung pressed himself against your ass, his hard body moulding into your softer curves. The feeling of his cock, already half-hard, caused you to moan softly.
Heeseung's hands grazed over your body, cupping your breasts tightly as his thumbs teased your hardened nipples through the black lace on your dress. You couldn’t help but arch into his figure, your head falling back against his broad and sturdy chest as his lips and tongue left a wet trail along your sensitive flesh.
"You like that, don't you, baby?" he murmured, his hands moving down to grip your ass, squeezing the firmness as he pulled you tightly against his crotch, making sure you knew of just how much he needed you.
"Yes," you breathed out, "I want you."
"You know what I want, baby girl? I want to bend you over, and fuck you hard. Show you what a real man can do."
You whimpered, your pussy aching to be filled with his cock. "Infront of all these people?"
“Why not?” he smirked.
His hands moved to your thighs, lifting your dress, his fingers stroking the soft skin of your inner thighs as he whispered, "I bet your already wet"
Your breath was heavy with anticipation as you felt his fingers reach the damp lace of your underwear. "I’ve been wet ever since I saw you."
Carefully, he spun you around, pinning against the wall as his fingers quickly found their way to pull your panties to the side. Without saying anything, he plunged two fingers into your dripping heat.
Heeseung thrusted his fingers in and out of your tight pussy, his thumb circling the bud of your clit, his other hand reached down to unbutton his pants, releasing his thick, hard cock.
“You wanna get fucked so bad.” Heeseung moaned, his breath roaring with the scent of alcohol.
"Fuck me, please. I need your cock."
With a rough growl, he withdrew his fingers and positioned himself at your entrance. In one slow thrust, he buried himself inside of your cunt, the sensation of being stretched and filled made you tear up. .
The dirty, animalistic noises Heeseung was making as he pounded into your wetness only drove you closer and closer. You reached down, your fingers finding your clit as they began to rub furiously.
"Fuck. That's it, baby, make yourself cum," Heeseung growled, his teeth sinking into your neck as he fucked you harder.
With a loud moan, you both came, your pussy pulsating around his cock as your breaths slowed down. Heeseung grunted, his hips stuttering as he emptied his cum inside you.
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no-144444 · 19 days ago
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the grid: time for a hot lap!
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Day 22 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist
Featuring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Daniel Riccardo, Charles LeClerc, Max Verstappen
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Oscar Piastri: 
When Oscar told you that Mclaren wanted you to do a hot lap with him at the Austin GP, you were pretty shocked. Both you and Oscar were pretty against putting your entire relationship on blast, and you were usually too busy with your own job to make it to the GP’s, but you’d promised you’d do the triple header with him this time. 
“It’ll be fun,” he smiled, rubbing your back as you both lay in bed together. “I promise I won’t go too fast.”
You rolled your eyes. “I don’t care about the ‘going fast’ part. I care about the questions they’ll make me ask you.”
He chuckled. “It’ll be alright, I’ll ask them to not make it too inappropriate.” 
You sighed, knowing he really wanted you to do this. “Let’s do it.” 
“Thank you baby,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek and finally, you both got up for the day. 
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The Texas sun was setting over the Circuit of the Americas, casting a golden glow on the iconic track. You sat in the car, Oscar revving it up as your heart dropped when you looked at the first question. “Holy shit Osc,” you mumbled, flipping through all of the cue cards. 
“What?” he asked, looking over. 
“These are all from, like, a horny question game!” you whispered. He immediately started laughing as he flipped through the cards, each one getting more ridiculous. 
“What are these? ‘Kiss me for 5 whole minutes’? What is this shit?” He laughed. 
“That’s one of the more tame ones,” you whispered. 
“This one is the worst,” he chuckled, showing you a card that says ‘Do you have any fetishes I don't know about?’ and you both bursted out laughing. 
“What do we do?” You asked, not knowing if you were meant to actually ask such personal questions. 
“Throw them out the window,” he instructed with a cheeky smile. 
You rolled your eyes. “Oscar, we can’t do that-!”
He grabbed them out of your hand and threw them out his window, then started speeding down the main straight. 
Oops. 
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Lando Norris: 
“It’ll be funny!” You begged. “Come on, I promise I won’t scream- that much.” 
He rolled his eyes. “You barely let me drive anyways, what’s different about this, huh?”
“That’s so not true! I let you drive when I’m drunk.”
“Exactly!” He giggled. 
“Please Lan, let’s just do it, I promise it’ll be fun,” you poured, and he knew he had no defence now. 
“Fine,” he sighed. “But you owe me something in return,” he lifted an eyebrow and you chuckled. 
“You’re such a child,” you teased before placing your lips on his. 
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He was pleasantly surprised at how much you enjoyed it. He sped along the circuit, and every time it came to the last corner, he obliged your begs to his again until you eventually did 6 whole laps going top speed. As you both got out of the car, while you spoke animatedly to the camera, he stood shyly behind you. As you two walked off ‘set’ (the pitlane) you turned to him. 
“What’s wrong?” You asked, taking his hand. “You alright? I didn’t push you too hard, did I?”
He chuckled, blushing. “It’s not that,” he mumbled and you understood. 
“That made you hard!?” You asked, shocked. 
“Shut up!” He whined. “I have a hot girlfriend, sue me!” 
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Lewis Hamilton: 
It wasn’t the first time Lewis had asked you to do a hot lap with him, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last. You had agreed, of course, and this would be the first time it was filmed for the general public's viewing pleasure. 
“Ready?” he asked, turning the car on. 
“Ready,” you nodded. As you two sped off, you looked down at the questions. “Alright, Bono or Toto for a night out?”
“Easy, Bono and Toto, both of them are great fun,” he smirked. 
“What’s the best advice you’ve gotten about love?” 
“When my dad told me to marry you,” he answered, not really thinking as he almost sent the two of you into a gravel trap.
“Fucking hell Lewis, at least pretend to still be good at your job,” you scolded as he laughed. “If you weren’t an F1 driver what would you be?”
“Probably a stay-at-home dad,” he shrugged. 
“What superpower would you want?”
“Teleportation.”
“Who do you miss more when you’re away, me, or Roscoe?” 
“Oh shit, that’s hard,” he smirked, thinking. As you two weaved around the final corner, you had no reaction, even when he drifted you barely batted an eye. It was impressive to say the least. “You, obviously.”
Actually, you hadn’t had a reaction to any of the driving, no gasps or sighs, no grabbing the safety handle, nothing.
As you two pulled back into the pit lane he looked over at you with a smirk. “Seriously? No reaction?”
You shrugged. “It’s not that thrilling.” 
He shook his head with a smirk. “You are something else baby.”
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George Russell:
“You alright?” He asked and you shook your head.
“I would not have agreed to come out of the garage if it means that this shit is happening,” you gritted out. 
He just laughed and pressed a kiss to your hand. “You’ll be fine, don’t worry, you’re in good hands.”
“Babe- BABE!” you screamed as he shot off down the main straight and began the hot lap. “FUCK!” 
George just laughed as he weaved through the corners, you screaming the whole time. 
“Ask me the questions!” he instructed. 
“FUCK! LIFT GEORGE, FUCKING LIFT!” you screamed. There was a certain hilarity to your relationship, especially considering that you were his lead engineer. “THIS IS ALWAYS YOUR PROBLEM!”
“Ask the questions!” he laughed. 
“FUCK- a-alright, Lando or Alex- GEORGE PICK A FUCKING BREAKING ZONE!” 
He was laughing too hard to answer for a moment, but he composed himself as you gasped at every twist and turn. “Albono and I probably see each other more,” he chuckled. 
“Alright, next questi- GEORGE LIFT!”
“I know what I’m doing!” he shouted back, laughing. Just then, he iver shot it and brought you both straight into a gravel trap, stuck there. 
“You ‘know what you're doing’, do you?” you scoffed. “I am never doing this shit again, I sit in the garage for a reason-”
He leaned over and kissed you, a bright smile on his face. 
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Alex Albon:
As a sky presenter, you’d been forced to do many strange things. For example, try and give Jenson Button a piggy back for 3 hours (you’d lasted about 40 minutes, which was pretty good), try to reconcile Brocedes (it kind of worked?), made many fans days, and had a great impact on the sport. 
“So you want me to do a hot lap with Alex?” you questioned Ted. He nodded. 
One thing you didn’t talk about often was the fact that in your 2 years at SkyF1, you’d started dating one of the F1 driver’s, Alex Albon. Neither of you were particularly keen on telling the public, because it just never felt like the right time. 
“Alright,” You shrugged. “I’ll do it.”
That’s how you ended up in the strangest position yet, driving your F1 boyfriend around the COTA track in a Ferrari. 
“So Alex, any advice for me?” you asked, turning to him.
“There’s no grip, don’t try to drift,” he chuckled. Honestly, he was enjoying this. He had taught you some of his drifting tactics and such, and he was really enjoying shooting with you. SkyF1 usually kept you two separate out of fear that you’d expose your relationship, so despite you being there every weekend, he rarely saw you during the day. 
“Got it,” you nodded, speeding down the main straight. Immediately, he started barking orders at you of when to lift and when to not, and he was screaming and gasping at every corner, while you just laughed. Honestly, you loved driving as fast as you could with no repercussions. 
As you finally slowed down to the end of the hot lap, he finally started breathing again and sighed. “I’m dating a lunatic!” 
You just laughed at him as he stood up from the car, legs shaking. 
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Daniel Riccardo: 
You were terrified of what Daniel would do when he was given the chance to drive a very fast car, very fast, with no repercussions, and you as his passenger. 
“Not too fast, yeah? I already know you’re a great driver,” you smiled, trying to make him slow down. 
He just smirked. “Baby, y’know I’m a racecar driver, right?”
You grimaced. He accelerated. You screamed. 
“Isn’t this fun?!” he asked, doing doughnuts on the track. 
“FUCK NO!” you screamed. “Daniel slow down! Slow down!”
“Nothing is making me slow down now-”
“I’M PREGNANT!” You shouted. 
He brought the car to a startling halt and turned to you with wide eyes.
You took out your phone, ready with a photo of the positive pregnancy test. He gasped. 
“I’m going to be a dad?” he asked, eyes clouding with tears. 
You nodded. 
He pressed his lips to yours quickly, stealing a kiss, then another. 
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Charles LeClerc:
“Mon coeur, please! It will be fun,” he begged. 
“No, no way,” you chuckled, trying desperately to get away from him in the Ferrari garage. 
“Rebecca is doing it with Carlos,” he told you. 
“So she doesn’t value her life? Ok, that’s fine with me,” you argued. 
“Please my love,” he asked, taking your hands. “One lap, I’ll slow down, I promise.”
You stared at him for a second. “One lap?”
“One lap,” he nodded. 
“And you’ll be gentle?”
“So gentle,” he nodded. 
“Fine.”
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He was not gentle, nor was it one lap. He ended up taking you around 3 times, while you basically begged him to stop or slow down. 
When you both got out, you immediately ran to his driver’s room and tried to calm down, while he was interviewed. 
“Is she alright?” Ted asked. 
Charles smiled. “She’s not a big fan of stuff like this, so probably not,” he chuckled. “I might be sleeping in the guest room tonight.”
Ted chuckled. “Well, we understand why, you did drift the entire circuit 3 times and you almost went off 4 times.”
Charles sighed. “Thank you Ted.”
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Max Verstappen: 
You’d sat in the passenger seat of his valkyrie aston martin a hundred times before, what would be so different about this?
A lot.
As Max drove and you screamed, he put his hand on your lap trying to calm you down. 
“MAX! BOTH HANDS ON THE WHEEL!” you screamed as he chuckled. “YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE A GOOD DRIVER!”
“I am a good driver!” he shouted back, over the sound of the engine. 
“Evidently not!” You screamed as he went straight over a curb.
“Do you want to see bad driving?” He smirked.
“No! No! That’s ok, just- MAX!” You screamed as he immediately sped up and started to drive even more recklessly. 
“FUCKING HELL MAX!” you screamed. “I’LL DIVORCE YOU!” 
He just laughed. 
What a way to announce your marriage, right?
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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)
fic-tober masterlist
taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen @yootvi
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shortcakesturns · 4 months ago
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𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 - 𝐑𝐎𝐁 𝐑. 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃
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summary: rob fucks you in soulties lol
warnings: unprotected sex, public sex (nobody sees) pet names, female reader, kind of cheating mentions? (not locked in with anyone.) p in v, oral (f recieving) sorry if it’s not that good ☹️
being in a couple rob had its ups and downs, he likes to explore but you liked him. unfortunately the exploring led to him getting by another girl. rob was genuinely upset, he respected you. He felt different about you way different.
The whole day you couldn’t get it out of your head. You sat at the villa staring at liv and rob talk it away to you it didn’t look natural. they looked awkward and you had ill feelings towards liv coming and stealing him from your grasp. You couldn’t let her know you were salty, no..but you could get back at her.
Your legs moved quicker then your brain as you walked closer and closer to rob. “hey rob can I talk to you?”
“yeah sure.” rob got up from where he was sitting and began to follow you as you led him to soul-ties.
“so, I just want to talk to you about what happened last night you know.” you said as you laid down on the cushioned area. Rob quickly laid down next to you.
“me too.” he agreed with you.
“so, I’m lowkey upset by what happened, I know it’s not your fault but I feel like we had a insanely deep connection rob.” you look at him.
“yeah no me too, I think what she did was uncalled for and I was exploring others but I made it clear you were my number one and wasn’t open to the idea of being picked.” he frowns a bit.
“can I make it up to you y/n?” he looks into your eyes.
you pondered how he could make it up to you, you weren’t sure what could fill the void that you once called your couple in the villa. you had been publicly humiliated in front of thousands on tv.
“sure..” you hesitated but gave in. because who could resist those beautiful enticing eyes.
Rob wasted no time grabbing the back of your neck softly but strong enough to pull you to his lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth every few pecks, the pecks became slower and deeper but rougher. Eventually both of your tongues meet and rob tugs on the waistband of your shorts.
he lays you on your back and slowly slips off your shorts and underwear tracing his fingers along your pussy. The warmth grows by the seconds and each small touch rob makes. “can I y/n? words sweetie. please.” he groans.
“yes rob, yes please.” you nod desperate for his touch.
“good girl.” he wastes no time sipping down to your wet pussy and pushing your knees to your chest to get a better angle when tasting your sweet spot. His tongue lapped your clit over and over again every other lap entering your hole before tongue fucking your hole while using his thumb to rub your clit.
He mumbles into your pussy as you feel as if your getting dragged to the edge with each lap and dip of his tongue, his thumb rubbing your clit continuously until you tense up feeling your orgasm approaching.
“that’s it let go for me sweet girl.” rob keeps the attack consistent letting you ride out your high.
“more..more rob please.” he smirks when you beg.
“begging for me? since you wanna be good i’ll give you more.” you hear him fumble with his belt buckle.
his pants drop leaving him with just underwear but those are quickly slipped off while he rubs his tip up and down your slit teasing you.
“no teasing rob.” you cry out.
“okay princess no teasing.” rob aligns his tip with your hole and begins to sink in bottoming out throwing his head back in pleasure.
“best pussy ever.” his pace speeds up roughly.
moans escape from your lips, the pleasure so intense that you can’t help but let mewls slip past your lips. his whispers and moans are incoherent too pussy drunk to form words. you guys were in a trance.
a white ring forms around the base of his cock, cream coating his length. “fuck i’m close sweet girl.” his pace begins to get sloppier and sloppier.
“me too rob fuck.” you clench around him as you feel ropes of cum hit your cervix. rob pulls out and pulls your pants up and puts your shirt on and fixes himself. he lays next to you moving strands of hair out of your face.
“if we recouple soon it’s you, your like a drug, and i’m way too addicted.” he presses a kiss against your lips while holding you
—- SORRY IF ITS BAD OR SPELLING MISTAKES ITS LATE NOT PROOFREAD
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