#but idk. there is something to her that is really comforting and that speaks to me

[suliigwp]

I DESPISE MY ROTTEN MIND AND -HOW MUCH IT WORSHIPS YOU

Oscar Piastri x Mean!Reader

SULI: Reader is the daughter of someone powerful in McLaren like a co-owner or sm idk go along with it please🫶 (ignore my obvious love for lando here) this is my first fic be nice ; I plan on part two ; I tried to speak around her name to not say y/n ; Olivia Rodrigo I bow down to you - stream 'Lacy'!

Warnings: reader is straight up a horrible person (kinda - this is my guilty pleasure), Toxic?, smoking, he just can't stay away, English is not my first language.

Lacy, oh Lacy, it's like you're out to get me.

Oscar Piastri was never one to particularly like audience. He didn't mind company, but preferred the comfortable whispers of silence of whom he learned calmness from. He tried to keep reminding himself that what people thought was not important, and what he did with his time was, but it was different this time.

Having just signed a contract with McLaren, he stood in a big room in his new dress-shirt, glass in hand, speaking to people involved with the team at a 'get-together' before the season started. Zak Brown and Lando Norris taking it upon themselves to introduce him to everyone. He had to make a good impression.

Eventually they introduced him to the small group of people owning the McLaren Formula 1 team and shaking their hands he cursed at himself silently for forgetting to wipe his hand on his pants, hoping his palm wasn't sweaty.

"I like how calm you are. Gives the sense of stability." Chuckled the man, taking a sip of the drink in his hand. "That's good. A driver making you feel steady straight on is exceptional."

"Thank you, Sir." He kept his answer short as he glanced down.

Oscar knew the truth. If anyone in this room was exceptional, it was Lando Norris. The teammate he needed to keep up with, the one he wanted to outrun, he didn't want the second seat, he wanted the first one and Oscar knew that wasn't an easy point to get to.

"I think it's time to change our driver dad. Really, how many times do I have to be late?"

Said a woman's voice behind the man, Oscar watched as the grey-haired man's face twisted into a warmer smile as he turned around.

"Darling!"

Some feeling went down Oscars frame. Warmth? Or was it freezing cold? He couldn't tell. Only thing he knew was that it wasn't a good feeling. The girl now in front of him shined off a feeling that he could only call whimsical. Dark but comforting, heavy but so easy to breathe in. Like something was warning him, stay away.

She nodded to everyone when they greeted her, smiling an off smile, eyes glancing at everyone and then landing on him. His consciousness shook.

"Darling, Meet Oscar Piastri. Our new driver." Oscar gave a soft smile and a nod, offering his hand.

"Pleasure to meet you."

She took his hand and shook it slowly, looking him up and down, darkly painted lips twitching upwards. "I've heard a lot about you, Oscar."

Oscar blinked away, slowly taking his hand from hers, offering another soft smile, not knowing what else to say.

As the talk around them picked up again, he never lost that heavy feeling. The weight of her eyes pushing down on him as he continued trying to breathe.

...

"Breathe Man, you're doing fine." Landos voice comforted him as they got away from the scariest circle in the room.

Oscar took in a large breath as he put down his finished cup on one of the small tables around the room. Looking at his teammate as he laughed. "Shut up."

"Sorry, sorry, I would be this sweaty too if she looked at me like that."

"What?" He turned to the curly haired man.

"What? You're kidding right? You caught the eye of one of the most scary people here." The man chuckled, leaning on the table.

"Scary?"

Lando raised a brow at him. "Do you only know how to ask one word questions?" And shook his head teasingly when Oscar gave him a deadpan look. "Depending on who you ask, She's not a very pleasant person. That's how dumb people think, I think she's awesome." He smiled.

Oscars brows furrowed, that feeling came back. "Why would people think that?"

"Ah, long story... To say it short she was an intern at some event, she leaked a private recording of some executive making corrupt comments. She didn’t go to the press. She posted it herself with zero warning. It exposed real corruption—but it also broke dozens of NDAs, compromised trust with an entire network of professionals, sparked a scandal, you know? People got fired. Security got tighter. She didn't really care but... A lot of people lost their jobs so..." He trailed off.

"...oh" Oscar muttered, looking back at the glowing figure behind him, he couldn't really tell if that glow was white or as dark as a black hole.

"That's the main thing, she doesn't really like staying quiet about things, she's brave, I could never." Lando muttered the last part under his breath, bringing a drink to his lips.

Oscar watched her as she ran her fingers through her hair and looked at him, the dark pencil around her eyes pulling him in. She smiled and looked back at the men in front of her.

He felt dizzy.

...

"Too pretty to be caught up in all of this, don't you think?"

He jumped a bit when he heard her voice, whipping around to face her, and for a second, he's speechless.

"I'm just... trying to enjoy the night." He muttered, trying to gather himself.

"I'm sure you are... Don't worry about my father, he likes putting a lot of pressure on everyone but, he really likes you." She said, smiling as she looks over him again.

Oscar cleared his throat, not knowing what to say. She chuckled "See you around." She called out as she walked away.

...

2023 BAHRAIN QUALIFICATIONS

She was reviewing something on her tablet, tucked into a far corner of the garage where no one would bother her. The usual flurry of team personnel moved around like clockwork—headsets, data, tires, noise. She liked the noise. It drowned out everything else.

Oscar had spotted her, but only because she looked like a fixed point in a sea of chaos—calm and sharp. He froze 'she's here?' He almost starts shaking. He wasn't trying to bother her. Just grabbed a bottle of water and stood near her, needing a quiet corner himself.

She glanced at him smirking to herself and going back to her screen, thinking he didn't see her.

"Oscar!" Someone shouted out suddenly, carrying out the garage. Oscar, startled, whipped around—smacking his water bottle right into the edge of a tool cabinet.

The cap flew off. The water went all over his shirt.

Her mouth dropped open.

He looked down at himself. Wet shirt. Clinging fabric. Silence.

She raised an eyebrow.

"...well," he said, monotone. "This is deeply unfortunate."

That did it. She laughed. Not loud, but real—like something cracked in her, like she'd been holding it in for years. It startled her more than him. She even looked away like she hadn’t meant for it to slip out. Holding a hand over her mouth.

He grinned slowly. That heavy feeling when he looked at her was gone. That voice. Her laugh. God, was she casting a spell on him? He hoped she knows a million spells “Is that my reward for humiliating myself?”

She didn’t respond. But she didn’t go back to her tablet, either.

...

It was after qualifying. Chaos had simmered down in the garage. She hadn’t meant to linger—but she did. Arms crossed, sitting on a crate that clearly wasn’t meant for sitting. Watching.

Oscar was standing alone for a second. Helmet off, suit unzipped to the waist, undershirt damp with effort. He was flipping through something on a monitor, lips pressed, jaw tight.

She studied his side profile. Pretty. So pretty. She spoke before she could stop herself. “You looked pissed after Q2.”

He turned, brows lifted, clearly surprised she was talking to him. “Did I?”

She hummed. “You stomped past the cameras like they insulted your mum.”He laughed softly, quiet. Gosh, is he testing her?

“Guess I need to work on that poker face,” he said.

“No,” she replied coolly. “It was entertaining.”

He gave her a look, half amused, half curious. She's fun to be around. People don't know what they're talking about...right? “You always hang around garages just to roast drivers?”

“Just the ones with weak qualifying laps,” she said, then smirked.

He blinked, taken aback for half a second and then grinned. “Okay, now I know you’re flirting.” immediately regretting it, heat rising up his neck.

She raised a brow, surprised at his boldness “I don’t flirt.”

“That’s what all good flirts say.”

She rolled her eyes but chuckled. For a few moments, they just stood there in the humming silence of the paddock. Not much said. But she noticed how his fingers tapped against the table. How he kept glancing at her like he was trying to figure her out.

He's so soft, so quiet, beautiful... And oh, did she love breaking pretty things. They start talking regularly after that day.

...

Oscar hadn’t meant to find her.

He was just looking for some quiet during the chaos of a post-qualifying press circuit. The hotel was packed, the lobby was louder than the paddock. So he slipped through a door that led to a narrow balcony, needing a breath.

She was already there.

Leaning on the railing, cigarette in hand. The night was velvet dark and gold-lit, and the glow of the cherry cast her face in an almost cinematic silhouette. She didn’t look at him right away. Just exhaled slow, smoke dancing around her like flames. He froze for a second.

Everyone had whispered things about her. Harsh. Cold. Dangerous, even. But standing there, her shoulder blades rising and falling with each breath, she looked more like someone who’d built her armor carefully and wore it heavily.

She finally glanced over her shoulder. “Lost, golden boy?” He blinked, not sure whether to answer or leave.

“You can stay,” she added after a beat, tapping ash off the side with a flick that said she didn’t really care either way.

He leaned on the opposite end of the railing, giving her space. “Didn’t know you smoked.” He muttered awkwardly, tapping his finger on the glass.

“You didn’t know me,” she said. Not cruel. Just matter-of-fact.

He looked at the skyline instead of her. “Guess I still don’t.”

She smirked, finally looking at him. “Smart boy.”

The silence hung, comfortable and strange. That feeling is back, he thinks, but it's different this time, it doesn't bother him, maybe he's gotten used to it. Then she offered the pack toward him without looking. Not really asking. Just holding it in his direction.

"No, thank you." He didn’t take one. But he didn’t leave either.

And she didn’t say a word about it. She just smoked her cigarette and let him share her quiet, the way someone might hand over a piece of themselves without even knowing they did.

She lit a second cigarette. Oscar watched her. “I don’t smoke often,” she said suddenly, voice quieter now. “Only when I feel like I’ll explode otherwise.”

He glanced at her, brows pulled slightly. “Bad day?”

She laughed, low and bitter. “Bad life, maybe.”

He didn’t smile at that, didn’t make it a joke. Just nodded like he understood. Like he wasn’t afraid of that edge she lived on. “I get it,” he said. “I don’t smoke, but… I’ve had days like that. Where it feels like if one more person asks how I’m feeling or tells me to smile for the camera, I’ll just—” He made a vague exploding gesture with his hands.

She looked at him. Really looked. “You don’t seem like the explode type.”

He shrugged. “I hide it better than you.”

She tilted her head, intrigued. Oscar lost his breath for the way the lights from the hotel hit her “So there’s a version of you that screams and throws things?”

“Maybe not throws. But I’ve thought about it,” he said, smiling now.

She grinned, soft but surprised. “Huh. Maybe you’re not as boring as I thought.”

He blinked, she's been thinking about him? He gave her a look. “You thought I was boring?”

“I thought you were safe,” she corrected, a little too honest. “And I hate safe.”

“Maybe you just don’t trust safe.”

That landed a little too hard. She went quiet, fingers tightening around her cigarette.

“Sorry,” he said softly. “That was... too much.”

But she didn’t get mad. She just looked out at the skyline again. “No. You’re not wrong.” putting the poison to her lips.

A long silence stretched between them, something warm and brittle. A truce.

Then she glanced sideways and muttered, “Still not taking a cigarette?”

He shook his head.

She exhaled smoke toward the stars. “Golden boy.” And she didn’t say it like an insult.

...

After that night on the balcony, the air between them shifts just a little. Next race week, she walks past him in the paddock. Doesn’t say anything at first, just shoots him a knowing look. He offers a tiny smile, the kind that doesn’t reach his eyes unless he means it. This time, he means it.

As she's about to turn the corner, he calls after her quiet, but clear.

"Hey."

She stops. Looks over her shoulder.

He walks up, a little sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. The golden baby hairs at the nape of his neck catching light. “I figured... if you ever need someone to talk to. Or not talk to. Just… stand around and keep quiet next to you.” A soft laugh. “I’m good at that.”

She eyes him, chin tilted, unreadable. Then, after a pause, pulls her phone from her back pocket and hands it to him without a word.

He takes it, surprised but not stupid enough to question it, and enters his number first name and a little racecar emoji. Hands it back.

“What should I save you as?” he asks.

She smirks, plucking the phone back. “Don't worry golden boy, you'll figure it out.”

That night, he gets a text.

New contact added...

...

The garage had quieted, the roar of engines long since faded, replaced by the low mechanical murmurs of winding-down systems and the occasional clang of tools being packed up. Overhead lights cast long shadows, soft and golden against the cool gray of concrete floors and carbon fiber. Most of the team had cleared out, only a few stragglers remained, their voices echoing faintly from the far end.

She sat on the edge of a workbench, one leg crossed over the other, ankle bouncing lazily. Her lips were parted slightly, gloss smudged from biting the inside of her cheek. She was dressed sharply as always, but the sharpness dulled in this quiet hour, jacket shrugged halfway off, strands of hair falling messily from where she’d tucked them behind her ears.

Oscar was leaning against the wall opposite her, helmet in hand, still suited up. His curls were messy with sweat and humidity, cheeks flushed faintly from the day’s heat. He looked tired but content, relaxed in a way she’d only seen when no one else was around. They’d been talking for a while, longer than either of them intended.

He'd made her laugh. Really laugh, something startled and unguarded, a sound that cracked out of her like lightning. It silenced them both for a moment. She blinked at him, stunned, as if she'd just let something important slip out.

"What?" he’d said, smiling crookedly.

"You made a joke," she replied, feigning horror. “I thought you were the serious one.”

“I have layers.”

“Like an onion.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

And she laughed again, quieter this time, but closer to him. The distance between them had been shrinking all evening, physically and otherwise. Every time she leaned in to say something, her perfume wrapped around him like a whisper. Every time she pushed his shoulder or smirked at him, he had to fight the instinct to reach back.

Now, the air between them hung heavy, still. She stared at him. He stared back.

Then she uncrossed her legs and hopped lightly down from the bench, stepping closer, too close. Her chest brushed his arm, her fingers lightly skimming the fabric of his sleeve, a touch so casual it felt intentional.

“You’re not as boring as you look,” she said, voice lowered just slightly, eyes darting to his mouth for the briefest second.

He huffed a laugh, lips curling up, but his heart was thudding in his chest. “You always flirt by insulting people?”

“Only with special ones."

The words landed between them like a strike. His gaze dropped to her lips. Hers flicked to his. He leaned forward a little. She tilted her head, fractional movements, both of them holding their breath. Her hand was still on his arm, nails lightly brushing the fabric.

It would take nothing, just one more inch, one more second, for them to close the distance.

And then—

“Oscar!”

They flinched apart like they'd been caught. He stepped back, blinking fast. Her hand dropped. The moment splintered like glass under pressure.

She tried to brush it off. “Guess they still need you,” she said, recovering faster than he did, but her voice was quieter now. Her walls didn’t go all the way back up, but the door was closing.

He nodded slowly, trying to smile but not quite managing it. “Yeah… I guess they do.”

She didn’t move. Neither did he.

Until he turned away, slow and heavy-footed. And even as he walked toward the voices calling his name, his mind stayed behind, with getting the taste of her so close he could’ve sworn he still felt her breath against his cheek.

...

You poison every little thing that I do

“Watch out for her, mate. She’s not someone you want to get too close to.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, a little surprised by the caution in Lances voice. “What do you mean?” he asks, genuinely curious. He’s seen the way her boldness and confidence have always left him on edge, but he’s never really thought of her as dangerous, at least not in any serious way.

“She’s... got a reputation,” the driver says, glancing around as if to make sure no one’s listening. “People say she’ll use anyone to get what she wants. Doesn’t care who she steps on. And the rumors she spreads? She’s good at making people believe them. She gets inside your head, makes you question everything.”

Oscar feels a knot tighten in his stomach. That feeling is back. The warning stirs something in him. He’s seen her as this intriguing force, someone who’s always had a way of challenging everyone, pulling him in. But this doesn’t sound like the woman he’s been getting to know.

“Who exactly is saying all this?” Oscar asks, trying to keep his tone light, but there’s an edge of doubt creeping in.

Lance looks away, his expression turning serious. “It’s not just one person. Ask around, Oscar. You’ll hear the stories. She’s not someone you want to be mixed up with.”

Later that night, unable to shake the warning, Oscar starts digging. He asks a few more people, cautiously at first, but it doesn’t take long before the whispers start pouring in. Everyone seems to have an opinion on her. some avoid her entirely, others just don’t trust her. But the more Oscar hears, the darker the picture gets.

Rumors swirl about her—how she manipulates situations, uses her beauty to get people to do what she wants, and how she’s torn apart friendships and relationships in the past. Stories about her spreading lies and causing chaos are repeated again and again. It’s clear now: She isn’t just a woman who plays by her own rules; she plays with people’s lives like they’re chess pieces.

Oscar’s heart sinks as the weight of the reality settles over him. He thought he saw something good in her, something worth fighting for. But now, it feels like he’s been blinded by his attraction to someone who’s far more dangerous than he could have ever imagined.

The realization hits him hard, and as he stands in the middle of the paddock, the buzz of the race weekend around him, he’s left with a choice: walk away from this whirlwind he’s been caught in... or keep going, despite knowing the truth.

...

He’s lying in bed. Lights off, the room silent except for the low hum of the hotel air conditioning. But Oscar can’t sleep. Every time he closes his eyes, it’s her face he sees.

The way she looked at him on the balcony. The softness in her voice when she said his name. The smirk when she caught him staring too long. But now all he can hear is “You don’t want to get too close to her.”

He turns onto his side, frustrated. Grabs his phone off the nightstand. Just a peek. Just something to quiet the noise in his head.He types her name into the search bar.

Big mistake.

The results hit like a slap: headlines from glossy tabloids, anonymous gossip blogs, F1 forums with threads full of theories and rants. And then… videos. Short clips from events, shaky footage of her arguing with someone in a VIP lounge, walking out of a gala, stone-faced while a woman behind her is crying. Tweets calling her manipulative. Reddit threads filled with speculation and story after story from “insiders.”

“She said I was irrelevant to my face.”

“She told my friend she wasn’t pretty enough to date an F1 driver.”

“She leaked that PR scandal before the team could control it. I know it was her.”

He scrolls. He reads. He watches. Each new click feels worse than the last, but he can’t stop. He’s consumed.

And then he finds a post -long, detailed. An anonymous user claiming they knew her personally. It’s brutal. Cold. A timeline of friendships destroyed, opportunities taken by force, people she "exposed" for things no one was ever supposed to know. Some things might be exaggerated. But others… they line up.

He sits there in the dark, lit only by the glow of his screen, the sick feeling in his stomach growing stronger. He should block her. Forget her. Walk away. But he doesn't. He still wants to see that smirk again.

...

It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. They weren’t even officially friends at first. Just two people orbiting the same space, brushing past each other between interviews and paddock chaos, trading a look here, a quiet nod there. But something shifted slowly, then all at once.

It started with the laughing.

It wasn’t loud or wild. Just soft moments, shared glances, little jokes muttered under their breath when no one else could hear. Oscar had a way of drawing out a laugh she hadn’t used in years. Not the sharp, cynical kind she usually wielded like a weapon, but something warmer. Something reluctant. Genuine. She started looking for him, tracking the way his shoulders shook slightly when he tried not to smile too wide.

He made her feel… human again.

And somehow, despite her walls, despite the rumors and the carefully sculpted exterior she showed to everyone else, she started letting him see her. Really see her.

Late night texts turned into voice notes. Voice notes into video calls. She sent him songs without lyrics that said everything she didn’t know how to. He sent her blurry photos of the sky, his cat, his face half-hidden by the sun behind him, each one followed by a soft, “Thought you’d like this.”

In the paddock, he walked a little slower when she was around. She leaned closer when he talked. There were days when their shoulders brushed and neither of them moved away. Nights when they found each other on balconies, sharing secrets like confessions, smoke curling through the quiet between them.

He never pushed. Never asked for more than she was willing to give. And she hated how much she liked that.

There was a moment, a stupid, tiny moment, when she realized it had gone too far. He had made her laugh so hard during a rain delay that her eyeliner smudged, and she’d reached to gently wipe her eyes, when she looked up, he was already watching her with that look. The kind of look that says, I’d follow you anywhere even if I knew I’d get hurt. And I don't know why.

She had to walk away then. Pretend it didn’t matter.

But it did. Every little thing mattered now.

The way he waited for her after media duties without ever saying why. The quiet way he’d ask if she was sleeping okay when her her eyes looked darker than usual. The time he wrapped his jacket around her shoulders and didn’t make a big deal of it when she didn’t give it back.

And she let him in. Slowly. Recklessly.

He saw her, and she let him.

So when things changed, when his texts became shorter, his eyes colder, his laughter quieter around her, she felt it like a knife to the chest. She knew something had happened. Someone had told him something.

But before the silence, there had been this... almost. Like they were standing on the edge of something real, something wild and sacred. Like they were about to step into something neither of them could undo.

And now? Now he was slipping away.

And the worst part? She was starting to realize she cared.

More than she should have. More than she wanted to.

...

Lacy, Oh Lacy, I just loathe you lately

2023 JAPANESE GRAND PRIX

He was pulling away. She could feel it.

Oscar didn’t say anything outright, he was too polite, too careful for that. But she had always been good at reading tension, and lately, he’d been a damn novel of it. Shorter glances. Polite nods. No more waiting for her after interviews. No more inside jokes muttered under his breath.

It infuriated her.

Not because she needed his attention, she didn’t need anything. But because she let herself want it. Want him. And now he was acting weird. Distant. Like someone had whispered something in his ear that made him look at her differently.

So what did she do? She burned.

She stalked through the paddock like a storm cloud in heels. People whispered again when she passed, just the way she liked it. She leaned too close to Lando during a pre-race briefing, laughed too loud at something Charles said just as Oscar walked by. And when she caught Oscar’s eye across the garage, she tilted her head and smirked, sweet, dangerous, knowing. As he looked at her like a kicked puppy.

“You’re being horrible again,” Lando muttered, watching her from the side.

She popped her gum and said, “Am I?”

He wouldn’t say what was wrong? Fine. She’d make it worse. She showed up in the garage when she didn’t need to be there, lounging on the pit. She didn’t even look his way, not until he had to pass her. And then? A slow, calculated look up and down. One brow raised. Her lips curled like she was enjoying a private joke at his expense.

It was driving him insane. She knew it.

Every time she got a little too close to someone else, every time she smiled at the wrong guy for a second too long, Oscar's jaw clenched tighter. She caught it all. He never confronted her, never said a word—but she knew he was watching.

Good. Let him. Let him stew in whatever guilt or judgment he was choking on. If he wanted distance, fine, she’d give him a show. But underneath it all—beneath the smirks and the chaos—she was fuming.

Because he was pulling away And it was starting to hurt.

...

Oh, how he hates her lately.

He hates the way she smirks at other drivers, all flirt and fire and nothing left for him anymore. Hates how she doesn’t look at him like she used to, not with curiosity or teasing challenge, but like he’s a pawn that disappointed her. Like he’s beneath her now. A momentary lapse in her otherwise flawless taste.

He hates that she’s everywhere.

He hates that she leans too close to Lando, that her laugh rings out sharp and loud like a damn warning bell. Hates the way she struts into the paddock like she owns it, sunglasses hiding the eyes that used to meet his in stolen glances. Hates that she gets under his skin without even trying, because she’s not trying anymore, not with him.

But worst of all, He still wants her. Maybe even more now. This boiling need to touch her. This angry, uncontrolled want.

Still finds himself glancing over his shoulder in case she’s there. Still hears her voice echo when he tries to focus. Still checks his phone at night, half hoping, half terrified she’ll text.

He told himself to back away, convinced himself he had to. After everything he heard, after everything people warned him about her... he believed them. Tried to listen.

But she didn’t make it easy. She never did.

She’s turned cruel again. She’s turning heads and twisting knives and pretending he never mattered. Oscar is unraveling.

Because he can’t stop wanting the girl who now acts like she never wanted him at all.

...

And I despise my jealous eyes and how hard they fell for you

She’s laughing again. Louder this time. Her hand grazes the arm of someone else - he can't remember who, he doesn't care, she's touching someone else. Just to tempt him, make him snap. And it works.

Oscar doesn’t even realize he’s walking toward her until she turns around, and raises a perfect brow at him. Her smile freezes.

God how she missed looking into those eyes. “Can I help you, golden boy?” she asks, sugary venom dripping from every syllable.

He grabs her arm and pulls her away, not harshly, but firm. Behind the garage. Out of sight. He's breathing heavily. Her heels clack on concrete until they’re alone.

Letting go of her hand, he turned to her, chest rising and falling “Are you done?” he asks, voice low, sharp.

She leans back on one hip, lips curling as she takes in the way he's shaking. “With what?”

“With whatever the hell this is,” he snaps. “You being a nightmare to everyone and making it my problem.”

Her eyes flash, face falling. “I’m not your problem anymore, remember?”

“You never were my problem. You were-” He chokes on the words, throws his hands up. “You were something else. And now I don’t know what you are.”

“Oh, poor Oscar,” she mocks, stepping closer. Her voice dropping to a whisper, darkly painted lips casting a spell, he feels. “You get scared off by some rumors and now you can’t handle the consequences?”

“I trusted you!” he breathes out frustrated “And then you flipped a switch and started acting like I’m nothing.”

“You made me nothing first,” she snaps, suddenly too close, fire in her eyes. “You believed them. All of them. You didn’t even ask me.”

His jaw tightens. “Because I thought if any of it was true, even a little... I had to get out before..."

“Well,” she says, lifting her chin. “Guess what?"

The silence between them crackles. Breathing heavy. Hearts pounding. His eyes breathe her in. His head is buzzing, the world is is too light, or maybe she was too dark. He can't breathe, only breathe her.

“You’re a menace,” he mutters.

Her face holding a hidden pain only he notices “Took you long enough.”

And then, like fire catching on gasoline, he kisses her. Pressing his lips to hers harshly, her lips were so soft he needed to press harder to feel her, or maybe that's what his mind was telling him to rationalize wanting to get closer. More. More. Like he’s furious. Like he’s starved. Like he hates himself for it. His big arms come around her, one gripping her side and she melts into him, she kisses him back, just as angrily. Teeth, hands, a silent war with no winners. Her hands sliding into his hair, those golden strands she couldn't think about, the strands that had seamed her heart together without him even noticing. She pulled on it, bringing him closer, drawing out a soft groan from him and he pressed her body closer. She caught his lips between her teeth and pulling away, catching their breaths.

She watches him as he kept his eyes shut, creases on his face making him look so desperate, little whispers between breaths escaping him-

"-hate me. Why do you hate me-"

She grabs his face with her palms, her dark eyes sliding along his face, painting this image onto her brain.

"If there's anything in the world I don't hate, it's you, Oscar."

He lets out a shaky breath at her words and dropped his head on her shoulder.

...

Yeah, I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you

Before the champagne, before the podium, before the trophy touched his hands - Oscar was already gone.

The second he crossed the finish line, engine cooling, helmet still on, the world around him exploded in cheers. His team was rushing over the barrier, pulling him into hugs, clapping his back, yelling his name into the chaos of victory.

But he wasn’t really there.

Helmet off, breath uneven, hair a mess, he turned. Eyes scanning wildly, past the cameras, the pit crew, the flashes.

There. Just out the garage. Arms crossed, watching him, expression unreadable.

But he knew her. Knew the tension in her jaw. Knew that if he got close enough, he’d hear her heart hammering under her calm.

He can't wait. He pushed past the clamor, weaving through people shouting his name. Someone tried to stop him, probably PR, but he brushed it off like static. None of it mattered. Not when she was there.

When he reached her, he didn’t speak. Didn’t ask. Just pulled her into his arms like he was starved for her. She stiffened only for a moment before melting into him, fingers tangling in the back of his suit. His forehead dropped to her shoulder, body trembling, not from exhaustion, but relief.

“Podium.” she whispered.

He nodded into her neck. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

And in that quiet moment, hidden in plain sight, before the cameras turned their gaze, Oscar Piastri let himself fall. Not from the high of victory, but into her. He can't stay away. He can't.

[fluentisonus]

i love when we see little bits of valjean & cosette just hanging around the house together "they were both on the steps leading to the garden", "this took place in cosette’s chamber", "she generally embroidered in wool ... and jean valjean read beside her" yeah 🥺.

[perilegs]

i know it wasnt a serious comment but every time i look at a datv character and start thinking about their designs my blood starts boiling from the giving cosplayers a challenge comment

"The previous art director had the mindset we should make things easier for [cosplayers], which I think is a misunderstanding of cosplayers," he says. "We've seen the kind of challenges they're willing to take on, and so we've gone for, in some cases, a level of complexity and detail that I hope a lot of them are excited to rise to the challenge for."  x

unrelated to my point but why are you dragging the previous games down. have you seen any of the designs you speak of mr art director. do you think merrill in da2 wasnt peak. or morrigan in origins? do you know how hard it is to make cosplay armor.

you could have just been like "hey the characters have a lot more detail than before! look at neve's hat and everyone's clothes every single inch being embroidered or otherwise patterned"

which also makes me think. was any thought put into the designs or did they just want to detailmaxx so they can brag. idk if they could have said anything that would turn me personally off more from cosplaying anyone or analyzing their outfits

[marshmellowtea]

chris and sandra watch mysterious skin together cuz she thought it would be fun and didn't realize how emotionally devastating it would be and chris is dead silent the entire movie until the end when he gets up and locks himself in the bathroom for an hour and when he finally comes out he just curls up against her and she doesn't say anything about his red puffy eyes or his wobbly bottom lip and instead just wraps an arm around him and holds him until he can breathe evenly again

[kkkindered]

I love you k’in and your inability to stick to gender roles in relationship dynamics.

rambling in tags below. ✨️

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you’ve been one of sukuna’s many concubines for quite a while now. yet, you still cannot get rid of the jealousy in your system whenever he interacts with the other women in his harem.

wc. idk around 1 to 2k

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. angst (hurt to comfort), fluff, suggestive at the end. heian era. you call sukuna ‘my lord’. reader gets called ‘brat, little girl’. size difference. no part2, don’t ask i beg. not beta read.

“get back here, brat,” sukuna raises his voice as he follows you. he isn’t one to care about others’ emotional outbursts, yet here he is, chasing you after you’ve poured out your heart to him.

you don’t know why you’re this upset. you do know, however, that it’s childish of you to walk away mid dinner. you should’ve just stayed seated and refuse to let the thoughts consume you.

now you’re speed walking down the hallways of the estate—your legs carrying you as fast as they can without actually making a run for it. your mind keeps replaying the ‘unsettling’ scene that caused you to flee.

you remember it vividly. the sound of sukuna’s low, amused chuckle. how intrigued it was because of something another concubine told him—how he stopped chewing to say something back to her. which he rarely does.

hell, you’ve never seen him laugh around his other concubines.

“i do not wish to talk to you right now, my lord,” you reply, voice raised so the distance wouldn’t make it a hassle for the king of curses to hear you. you know that feisty attitude of yours entertains sukuna to no end.

he raises an eyebrow once he’s heard your voice; how it’s dripping with envy and hurt. you’ve never reacted like that before—at least not in his presence. it made him want to figure out why and how.

though, he can easily guess the reasoning behind your sudden defiance.

“oh, that so?” sukuna hums. he’s lenient with you this time around. he could catch up to you in under a split second, but he decides to give you that sense of accomplishment first before completely destroying it. he walks after you slowly, your fast steps being the same tempo as his slow pace.

you don’t answer. you’re stubborn. you have no right to feel jealous. you are a fairly new concubine—only a couple months ago did you join sukuna’s harem. yet, the time spent with him was precious.

he treats you differently. everyone notices that. everyone tells you the same. you know he does by the way he lets you off the hook with most stuff you say and do.

you don’t know what you did to gain his favouritsm, but it’s addicting. his attention is addictive. real addictive.

you had sworn not to develop any unneccessary feelings for that ruthless sorcerer. but, with the way sukuna treated you so gently behind closed doors, it was impossible not to.

you eventually reach the doors to your chambers. you slide them open and wish to close them behind you, only for a big hand to halt those movements. you freeze in place and refuse to look up at the owner of that said hand.

“look up,” sukuna demands. his voice causes goosebumps to appear on your arms, but you still don't budge. he clicks his tongue. that’s your first warning. two more and your punishment will be carried out, “we can do this the hard way too if you want.”

you turn your head, your fingers curling around the material of your kimono. you really should not feel this way about a little interaction between sukuna and his other concubine. that is none of your concern. what he does with those other women is none of your concern.

and yet. . .

“i don't want to,” you retort. sukuna walks into your room with a sigh. each step he takes forwards, you take backwards. your back finally bumps against the wall next to your bed.

sukuna towers over you, his tall and big frame making you feel vulnerable. especially with the way those red eyes of his are staring down at you. he crosses all four of his arms before speaking.

“tell me what’s running through that head of yours,” sukuna inquires sternly. he isn’t playing around anymore, you can tell. you glance the other way—knowing that he will laugh at you the moment you tell him why you’re upset.

you have a feeling he knows the reason behind your tantrum anyway.

“it’s nothing of importance, my lord,” you shake your head and relax your tense shoulders to make you seem less upset. your words have some truth in them—you don’t think your feelings of envy hold any value to him.

sukuna sighs again. he’s trying his best not to be annoyed at you. you’re his favorite and he wishes not to sadden you any further. he steps forwards, one hand moving to cup the side of your face.

his rough fingers play with a string of your hair, “i’m not stupid, little girl. i don’t like it when my woman is in distress.”

your heart skips a beat. this is what confuses you—how he can go from stern to gentle and vice versa. it’s surprisingly unexpected, which makes you long for more. even if his behaviour is confusing.

you look up at sukuna. your eyes meet for the first time in a good couple minutes. the corner of sukuna’s lips curls up into a satisfied smirk. that’s one step closer to getting you to open up.

“now,” the king of curses lowers his head to your eye level, the proximity all the more nerve wracking. he holds your jaw super tightly out of the blue. it makes you whimper.

“spit it out.”

there it is. the duality of the man strikes once more. you swallow the spit that’s been building up in your mouth. you bite your bottom lip lightly, trying to gather and form the right words to explain yourself.

sukuna wouldn’t understand. he’s a cold-hearted man who doesn’t care about such ‘trivial’ matters. he’ll just call you stupid, pathetic or whatever other derogatory term.

you stop your thoughts for a moment.

“it’s really just a stupid thing,” you mutter. your fingers curl around sukuna’s wrist—the one hand he’s using to firmly hold your jaw. you take a deep breath in, “i did not like it when you, errr. . . when that woman talked to you at the dinner table.”

your voice is clearly dripping with jealousy. pure, pure jealousy. and for what? because he talked to his other concubine. you feel stupid. you thought you discarded your personal feelings for the sorcerer before you the moment you turned into one of his many women.

“that woman?” sukuna tilts his head, feigning ignorance. that little grin on his face tells you enough. he’s playing with you like some form of entertainment. well, technically you are.

he wants you to be specific. he’s forcing you to be by acting like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.

in all honesty, sukuna’s already forgotten what that woman had said to him. it wasn’t and still isn’t worth remembering. all he can recall is your adorable facial expression when you saw him interact like that with his other concubine.

that little frown on your face was priceless. it makes him want to keep teasing you.

“you know who i am talking about, my lord,” you huff, trying to look away, but get stopped by sukuna readjusting his grip on your jaw. he firmly yet gently taps your cheek once and you know what it means.

“attitude,” sukuna warns with a quick hiss. he can let you say whatever you want to him, but you also have some limits regarding which tone you use with him. you apologise quietly under your breath.

the king of curses nods in satisfaction before releasing the grip on your jaw. his large hand trails down to your neck, thumb rubbing up and down your throat, “so, my little girl is mad at me because i talked to another concubine of mine, huh?”

you nod mindlessly. sukuna can easily get you to comply with him—to obey his every word, simply with his actions. the terms of endearment he uses are the cherry on top. they slip off his tongue so easily with you.

“tsk tsk,” sukuna shakes his head. his hand is now on the back of your head, fingers tangled into your hair. he’s staring down at you with a smug expression. he knows he’s got you wrapped around his finger, “how childish of you.”

you knew that would be one of the things he’d say to you. what you didn’t expect is for him to go for a kiss right after. his lips land on yours firmly, and to no surprise, you instantly return the gesture.

your arms wrap around his neck—your chest pressing against his. sukuna wastes no time in picking you up and letting your legs encircle his waist. he’s not pulling away for air to breathe and you don’t either.

“you’re going to listen to me, yeah?” sukuna murmurs between passionate kisses. he’s holding onto you tightly with two arms, his free hands roaming over your body whilst he pins you against the wall.

when you whimper out a weak, high-pitched ‘yes, my lord’, he smirks against your mouth before turning to kiss your neck. he slightly bites the skin to make sure you’re paying attention to him.

“i don’t remember what that woman said,” sukuna continues, nearly out of breath because of the kisses he’s leaving all over you. he easily grabs both your wrists and pins them above your head on the wall, “i was too busy lookin’ at a much prettier concubine of mine.”

he pulls back a little so he can look you in the eyes. you’re panting and embarrassed by what he just said. one of his hands finds your face again, tracing the shape of your mouth.

“my favourite,” sukuna whispers whilst licking his lips. you can see it in his eyes: he’s silently planning out how he’s going to remind you of your place. your place as his favorite concubine.

he dips his head back down, aiming for the valley between your breasts. he closes his eyes before sucking on the surrounding flesh;

“guess i’ll be nice for once ‘nd show you just what it means to be my favorite so that you’ll never dare forget it again.”

[colouredbyd]

“Tell Me You Will Believe Me”

poly!marauders x fem!reader

summary: Your visions as a Seer used to be harmless—until they turned dark. Now, you find yourself caught between protecting the people you love and the terrifying truth only you can see.

wc: 3.6k

warnings: emotional abuse, graphic violence, dark themes, angst, betrayal, emotional withdrawal, mental health struggles (anxiety, depression), trauma, past trauma, death of a loved one, remus being a sweetheart, visions of future tragedy, so much hurt/comfort, LOTS of angst but then happy ending <3

authors note: i should be studying but this idea has been on my mind for weeks so i decided to just write it, enjoy the major angst with comfort. Im trying to test my skills, idk should i do part 2 or leave the ending like this?

part 2 masterlist

It started slowly. Almost imperceptibly.

At first, you skipped breakfast. Said you’d meet them later in class. You didn’t.

Then you stopped holding Sirius’s hand in the hallways. Your fingers used to seek his like a reflex—lacing together as naturally as breath. Until one day, his hand brushed yours and you flinched, pretending not to notice. He didn’t say anything, just shoved his hands into his pockets and looked away.

You stopped waiting for James after class too. Where once you leaned against the wall with a playful grin, teasing him about being late, now you left as soon as the bell rang. “Thought you’d already gone,” you’d lie, when he showed up confused and breathless, eyes searching the corridor for you.

You started skipping Hogsmeade weekends, claiming migraines, unfinished essays, fatigue. “I’ll just stay in and rest,” you’d say, brushing kisses onto their cheeks like goodbyes. “You go. Have fun my love.”

They noticed, of course. The boys weren’t blind.

But you were clever.

You still smiled when spoken to. Still said “love you” back. Still sat beside them at meals—even if you barely touched your food, barely looked up, barely breathed. You learned how to be present without being there. An echo. A ghost in your own skin.

The boys watched you like you were slipping underwater, helpless to stop it.

One evening, James sat beside you on the Gryffindor common room couch, his voice low and joking, “You’ve got this whole ‘mysterious tragic poet’ thing going on lately baby. Should we be worried?”

You forced a laugh. “I just haven’t been sleeping well.”

He smiled at you, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “We miss you.”

“I’m right here, Jamie,” you whispered.

-

The smell of fire, of burning flesh. Someone’s laugh twists into a scream that ends too fast.

-

But you weren’t. Not really.

“Take her and RUN, Sirius!” Remus roars, storming forward and grabbing him by the collar, shoving him back like the fire behind him hasn’t already started swallowing everything whole. “NOW!”

There’s blood in Remus’s mouth when he speaks, on his hands when he clutches Sirius, on his temple where something struck too hard, too fast. His lips are trembling but his eyes are terrifying—brighter than the firelight. They burn with something final.

“Moony—” Sirius chokes, voice hoarse with panic, tears already rising. “I can’t—”

“THERE’S NO TIME!” Remus howls, like it’s killing him to say it. “You don’t look back. You don’t come back. You take her and you fucking run, do you hear me? You keep her safe—Sirius, please—

-

-

“Hey hey hey pretty girl, look at me breathe for me come on.”

Sirius’s voice breaks through your fog. He’s kneeling in front of you now, his dark eyes wide with concern. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Dorca and Peter are there too, hovering close by, their faces twisted in worry. They’re all looking at you, their concern thick in the air.

“Are you alright?” Remus asks, voice soft, but there’s something underlying—something urgent in his tone. He crouches beside you, his eyes searching for an answer you don’t have.

You open your mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. You feel pathetic having a panic attack infront of everyone. The vision’s weight is still on your chest, pressing down on you, suffocating you. It feels like the whole world is closing in.

Sirius looks like he might reach for you, but he hesitates, as if afraid to touch you. The intensity of the moment hangs heavy in the air. “You’re scaring me princess.” he says quietly, eyes softening.

And for the first time in days, you feel something like a tremor in your chest—like the weight of their love, their worry, is finally sinking in.

“please just hold me.” you hiccup through sobs, your voice sounding too small, too fragile. But the words feel hollow in your mouth.

And they do, they hold you until you feel safe enough. 

It was Remus who saw through it first.

He’d catch you staring into the fire too long. Flinching when the wind howled against the castle windows. He noticed your fingers trembling when you thought no one was looking. The way your hands hovered just above the boys’ shoulders when they leaned in—like you wanted to touch them, like you were afraid to.

“Are you alright, dove?” he whispered one night, his hand brushing your arm.

You blinked, startled. You hadn’t even noticed him sit beside you.

“Fine,” you said too quickly, too brightly. “Just tired.”

He didn’t believe you. He never did.

But he let you go.

After that, everything became quieter, not the visions though. They got worse, more clear, and more horrifying. 

You stopped calling Sirius by his stupid nicknames. No more “Padfoot,” no more “Starboy.” Just “Sirius,” plain and clipped.

You forgot James’s birthday. The guilt nearly ate you alive, even as you watched him pretend not to be disappointed.

You stopped reading with Remus at night. Once, you’d fall asleep curled against his chest while he read aloud, voice soft and warm against your temple. Now, you claimed headaches. Stayed in your bed. Doors locked.

They started whispering when they thought you couldn’t hear.

“She doesn’t laugh anymore,” James murmured one night.

“I think she’s scared,” Sirius replied. “Of what, I don’t know.”

“Us?” Remus said quietly.

-

-

“They know. They know, James—run!” and then footsteps and a crash and nothing.

A golden ring in a pool of blood. The sound of Sirius sobbing into Remus’s shirt. “They said she was dead. They said—”

Remus’s breath on your neck. “Run.”

 Smoke curling under a door you don’t recognize.

The sound of chains dragging across stone. Always the chains.

Blood on parchment.

Your name scrawled across it again and again and again.

-

-

You pretended you were asleep, but your pillow was wet.

Until one night, Sirius finally snapped.

You were halfway through dinner in the Great Hall when he slammed his goblet down and growled, “Alright, what the hell’s going on with you?”

You blinked, startled.

“You don’t look at us anymore,” he hissed. “You don’t touch us. You barely speak. If you want to leave, just say so, but stop pretending everything’s fine.”

“I don’t want to leave,” you said, voice breaking.

“You already have.”

And when you looked at him—really looked—you saw it: the shadow of his future, the one you’d dreamed a hundred times. Screaming behind bars. Eyes hollow.

You turned away. “Please. Just let it go.”

And he did. Because even angry, Sirius would always choose you. Always love you, even when it tore him apart.

Then weeks turned into a month.

Then a month turned into two. 

And you kept fading—slowly, quietly, like death by a thousand unspoken words.

Until Remus couldn’t take it anymore.

Until that night in the library when he found you curled into yourself like a broken star, and you shattered in his arms and told him everything.

You were in the library at nearly midnight—eyes hollow, curled in the farthest back corner like you were trying to vanish into the stone.

You didn’t hear Remus at first.

But suddenly, he was there—standing in front of you, pale and shaking, with something desperate in his eyes.

“You’re done hiding.”

His voice trembled. You looked up, startled.

“I tried to give you space,” he said quietly. “I tried to trust you. Its been two months and 4 days (Y/n). I can’t anymore. You’re fading right in front of me. And I don’t care how much you lie and pretend you’re okay—you’re not.”

You stood too fast, the chair scraping behind you. “Please, just let it go rem.”

“No, dammit!” he snapped. “You shut us out. You stopped letting us love you. You look at James like you’re already mourning him. You look at Sirius like he’s glass. And you haven’t looked at me like anything in weeks.”

Your hands were shaking. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“I don’t want protection, I want you!” he shouted.

The silence that followed was deafening.

His eyes were glistening. “Tell me what’s happening. Even if it hurts. Even if it ruins everything. Please.”

You stared at him, throat tightening, vision blurring. 

Remus’s hands trembled as they gently cupped your face, his eyes searching yours for answers. The weight of everything was pressing down on him now, and he could feel the tension in your body, the way you were holding yourself back.

“Please, just tell me,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, pleading. “I need to know, I need to understand what’s happening to you.”

You closed your eyes, tears brimming, throat tight with the truth you couldn’t bear to say. You’d been holding it in for so long, the fear, the guilt. It was all too much.

“Tell me you will believe me,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out. “Please. Tell me you will believe me.”

Remus’s breath hitched at your words, his grip on your face tightening slightly as if to pull you closer to him, as if to anchor himself to you. His heart was racing now, but his voice was steady. “I will,” he promised, his voice raw with desperation. “I believe you. I always will.”

You sank to the floor, legs giving out, and he followed, arms catching you before you could crumble completely. And then, for the first time in weeks, you told someone the truth.

“I’ve been having visions.”

He froze, but didn’t speak.

The words hung in the air between you like a spell. You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t face his eyes yet. The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating, but then Remus exhaled like he had been holding his breath too, his hands moving to hold yours tightly.

“What do you mean? Visions?” His voice was filled with concern, but there was something else there—something dark, like he already knew this wasn’t just a simple problem. This wasn’t something you could brush off with a shrug and a laugh.

You pulled your hands away, holding them against your chest, as if protecting yourself from the storm you knew was about to break.

“It’s like—I see things. Fragments. Pieces. But they’re never in order, Remus.” Your voice broke, and you cursed yourself for sounding so weak, for not being able to keep it together just a little longer. “Sometimes, I’m in them. Sometimes, I’m not. But it’s always horrible. Always the same. It’s—it’s the end, Remus. The end of all of us.”

Remus’s eyes never left you. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t say a word, but his face twisted with confusion and concern, his brow furrowed like he was trying to make sense of the puzzle you were handing him.

“The night we’re all going to die,” you continued, your throat raw. “I’ve seen it, over and over again. I—I see James… He’s screaming. I see Sirius… He’s… he’s not himself. And you’re—” You stopped yourself, unable to finish the sentence, the emotion too raw to put into words. “You’re not there. You’re gone, Remus. And it’s my fault.”

Remus’s face went pale as he absorbed what you were saying, his jaw tightening with the weight of your words. He reached out, his fingers grazing your arm, but you jerked back, your heart racing as you continued, desperate to say it all before it consumed you.

“I’m not always there, but when I am… It’s like I’m not even alive. I watch from some place far away. Sometimes, I see myself dead.” You let out a shaky breath, trying to hold it together. “I see James and Sirius, and I—God, I can’t breathe. I just… I can’t fix it, Remus. I can’t stop it. There’s a traitor, someone in our circle, someone close, and they’re going to betray us. James dies, Sirius gets blamed. They throw him in Azkaban… And I—I get taken, or worse.”

Remus’s hand reached out, but you flinched away, guilt and fear flooding your chest. You couldn’t look at him anymore. You couldn’t look at anyone, not with this knowledge hanging over you.

“I’ve been pushing you all away,” you whispered. “I’m scared, Remus. I’m terrified. I’ve been trying to protect you, to protect all of you. But I can’t stop what’s coming. I can’t stop it. And it’s eating me alive. I’m watching all of us die and I can’t do anything about it.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you didn’t dare let them fall. You were already too weak. Too broken. You couldn’t bear to show him any more of your fragility.

“Please, Remus, you have to promise me—promise me you won’t tell them.” Your voice was barely a whisper now, a plea. “Not yet. Not until we know what to do. I don’t know how to stop it, but I have to try. I have to do something, and I can’t do it alone.”

His hand was trembling as he cupped your face, lifting it so that you had no choice but to meet his eyes. His gaze was filled with so much pain, but also an understanding that shattered you further.

“Don’t ever think you’re alone in this, dove,” he whispered. “I’m with you. Always. We’ll find a way to stop it.”

You collapsed into his arms then, the sobs you’d been holding in finally breaking free. He held you tight, letting you cry it all out, his hand rubbing your back in comforting circles.

When the tears subsided, he whispered into your head, “ I believe you, dove.”

And in that moment, you finally allowed yourself to believe it too—believe that together, you might still have a chance to rewrite the ending.

The days that followed were desperate, and the sense of dread hung thick in the air.

The Marauders—Sirius, James, and Remus—refused to leave your side. Remus spent hours with you, pushing you to strengthen your Occlumency, your focus unwavering as he guided you through each mental block. His presence was a steady reassurance, though the unspoken tension between you both never quite lifted. The weight of what you’d seen in that vision was suffocating, and you had to push yourself to stay strong for them. For him.

Every moment, every glance you exchanged with your boyfriends felt charged with the weight of a looming secret. You knew things were changing, but you couldn’t tell them yet. Not until you knew the truth.

And so, you turned to your studies, hoping that if you immersed yourself in magic, in spells that might give you a fighting chance, the gnawing fear would subside.

It was a normal evening. The fire crackled merrily in the common room, casting a warm, golden glow over the four of you. Sirius sprawled out on the couch, teasing James as he flicked through a Quidditch magazine, his signature grin pulling at the corners of his lips. James was laughing, leaning over to nudge Sirius, while you and Remus sat across from them, trying to hold onto a semblance of normalcy.

For a fleeting moment, everything felt right. Remus caught your eye from across the room, and his lips curved into a small, reassuring smile. You returned it, but deep inside, the unease never fully disappeared.

“So, how’s the study session going baby?” Sirius asked, turning his head lazily toward you.

“It’s… fine siri.” you replied, your voice betraying none of the storm inside you. “Just trying to get through all this Occlumency nonsense.”

Remus laughed softly, his gaze never straying from you. “You’re doing great. You’re stronger than you think.”

James grinned. “You’re both scary smart,” he said with a wink. “I’ve been trying to catch up, but it’s been a slow process.”

Sirius chuckled, his usual mischievous energy making it feel like everything was just as it should be.

But then, in the blink of an eye, the room seemed to shift.

The dizziness hit first, so sudden you barely had time to brace yourself. Your vision blurred, and a rush of cold air washed over you. You pressed a hand to your temple, trying to steady yourself, but it was no use.

It wasn’t just dizziness. It was like the world itself was slipping away, replaced by something darker. A vision.

-

-

The world is suffocating—darkness swallowing everything.

The air is thick with screams—raw, guttural, pleading.

James’s glasses fall, shattered into pools of red.

The earth is drenched, soaked with fear, with blood, with everything you never wanted to know.

“Run!” Sirius’s voice cracks as he yanks you forward

You hear Remus, pleading, begging—

“Please, don’t look back. Just go!”

The air is heavy with the crack of spells, the sickening sound of bones breaking.

Sirius’s grip is all you have left to hold on to. You feel the weight of everything pressing down on you, but his voice is a lifeline.

“We need to go NOW.” You don’t look back, but you hear it. That scream.

James.

It’s not just a scream. It’s the sound of everything breaking. The sound of life ending.

It rips through you, through all of you, tearing something deep inside that you can’t even name.

Remus’s eyes lock with yours for a brief second, and in them, you see everything: fear, love, regret. “Don’t look back,” Remus’s voice is barely a whisper, 

The screams keep coming, one after the other. A storm of death and pain. Then, the worst sound of all.

Remus.

You hear him cry out—no, not cry out—begging. His voice breaking, splintering as if his very soul is being torn apart.

The sound cuts through the air like a knife, a desperate plea for mercy that doesn’t come.

The trees are closing in, but you can’t outrun the screams. You can’t outrun what’s happening.

Sirius stumbles, dragging you with him, but you both know it’s too late.

The ground is shaking now, trembling with the weight of death.

Something moves in the distance. Something that’s always been there, lurking, watching.

It’s him.

You hear the soft whisper of a name in your mind, but you don’t believe it.

The world stops.

The truth crashes through you, breaking you wide open.

The traitor.

The one you trusted.

The one who sold them out.

Everything you thought you knew is shattered.

-

-

Gasping for air, chest heaving, you felt the pressure of hands on your shoulders, holding you steady.

“Hey—hey, stay with me. You’re okay.”

It was Remus. His voice was strained with worry. But it didn’t make sense. None of it did.

The world was still spinning, and the faces around you were all blurry—except for one. The one that you couldn’t pull your eyes away from.

Peter was standing by the door. His eyes were unreadable.

And in that moment, you knew.

“Peter.”

The word was barely a whisper, but it hit the room like thunder.

Remus’s grip tightened, his voice full of panic. “What are you saying? What do you mean?”

But you couldn’t answer. Your mind was reeling from the truth. The betrayal that had been right in front of you all along.

It was Peter.

[salemlunaa]

success story!!!!

OMG SALEM SALEM SALEM, U AND UR WISDOM LITERALLY SAVED ME

idk if you're going to see this because you don't seem as active anymore but i literally revised my entire school life thanks to you!! this is like the first really huge thing i manifested (even though there's no such thing as big lol but you get what | mean)

this success story is gonna be superrrr long but it’s worth it i promise!!

For context im from the UK, and in the last 2 years of school is called a sixth form or called a college (16-18) and you can either transfer schools or stay in the one you were already in for 5 years.

I decided to move (like 80% of the people in my year/grade 💀)  i wanted change and to meet new people, but my entire friend group and so many people i love stayed in my old school.

I found out the grass wasn’t greener on the other side and let’s just say i really did not like the change, i felt fomo from my friend group and all of them expressed how deeply they missed me and how much i should’ve stayed and so i started to feel regret. 

And if you’ve ever felt regret to a significant amount, you know it’s the worst feeling you can ever feel, it’s like your insides are twisting, it’s like beating yourself up over and over again. And it got really bad. It lead me to a deep depression where i barely focused on my studies, and it showed with recent test scores. But I read your post and so many others and realised: i’m not stuck, and never will be, I can go back if i wanted. And so that’s what I did

No one really speaks about revision, not as much as i’d like as someone who now owes revision her life lol, so i was a bit nervous and super doubtful, but i looked at revision success stories and told my self if someone can revive someone back from the dead, someone can revise a serious diagnosis and another can change their age, you can revise the fact that you ever moved. 

I really hung on to your posts that drilled it into our heads that it’s already done and there’s nothing to do. And tellafairy’s posts about how we can change our lives from the comfort of our own beds. Even in my darkest moments i repeated that mantra and it calmed me down. 

I wanted to use the void but realised i probably would’ve have put it on a pedestal and most likely would’ve gotten so hung up on it, so decided to use SATs and choose the reality where i never moved schools and school life was so perfect.

I fell asleep on the first few nights, but then one particular night, i felt really fulfilled and floaty so I just kept visualising a day at school with my friends. AND I SWEAR TO WHOEVERS UP THERE I WOKE UP AND I FELT LIKE SOMETHING SHIFTED, LIKE I REGAINED ALL THESE MEMORIES

I LOOKED AT MY PHONE AND MY SCHOOL EMAIL WAS MY OLD ONE WITH ALL OF MY OLD TEACHERS AND I WENT TO SCHOOL IT WAS LIKE I WAS ALWAYS THERE AND NEVER LEFT

it felt weird when i woke up, like i felt a change, but it felt like i was supposed to be here, like i was at peace with what happened. 

I also used blanket affirming and manifested some things on the side too:

appearance changes

being sooo good at school

school rules being more lenient

change in subjects and more new friends

a school fine shyt Imao

more money +desired family

I really wanna thank you and and @tellafairy @itsrlymine @pineapplepr1nc3ss888 @scentedpeachlandcreator @sugarplumfairy777 @catherineaboutlife @authenticbunni @empyrealoasis @joc3lynn+ youtubers Rita Kaminski, Sammy Ingram and a youtuber called The Power of I AM (he’s sooo underrated but a literal gem) ik at the end of the day it was all me BUT THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH YOU DONT UNDERSTAND HOW HAPPY I AM WITH MY LIFE RN

If you’ve made it this far, please i’m telling you don’t give up, I was at the lowest of low, like seriously i didn’t even know if i wanted to be here, remember this: you are not stuck , you can manifest absolutely anything, yes, even that thing that seems impossible, and please remember that revision is real and it’s not only for small things like erasing an embarrassing memory or something, you can use it to change the trajectory of your life and i can swear by that as you can see!

you are so powerful you can change the past, please believe me when i say you shouldn’t give up, trust me if i, a D1 procrastinator, someone who was a super doubtful person can do this YOU CAN TOO AND I CAN PROMISE THAT.

it's already done, think as if you have it, and for those who are going through a lot mentally, you. are. not. stuck. that's something i had to remind myself. you can change anything and everything instantly and at any point in time, these circumstances aren't your home.

you don’t have to be a passenger of life, you are the author and creator, please remember that if anything.

i love you so much sai okay byeeeeeee 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

i was lurking through my asks for post ideas and oh my lord. i think this is one my favourite success stories, like ever. I rarely answer asks due to repetitive nature but i had to share this success story

YOU FUCKING DID THAT BABY!!!!! IM SO PROUD OF YOU AND IM SO HAPPY YOU’RE HAPPY 💘💘💘

i honestly love a massive revision story because these just show how powerful we are and how nothing is real except the now. and we REALLY CAN change ANYTHING

please please please listen to anon and keep going and and listen to them when they say you aren’t stuck, think as if. there is no such thing as failure.

you can change your life with loa. mark my words

[secretlovezz]

Whiplash

Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

Summary: you've been avoiding Eddie like the plague and he's desperate to figure out what he's done to deserve it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort?? idk, kissing, fluffy ending, pining, idiots in love, use of y/n, she/her pronouns used for reader, reader is a crybaby ig idk she reacted how I would soooo, lmk if i missed anything!

Wordcount: 2010

A/N: Not really proofread and kind of written in a rush cause I wasn't feeling it about halfway through so sorry if you can tell 😞

You weren't there... again.

Your absence from your usual seat to the left of Eddie leaves him in a deep state of confusion his eyebrows furrowing in thought. This was the fifth day without your presence at his side, almost an entire week without your voice giddily telling him about the book you were reading or a new recipe you've tried, almost an entire week of being deprived of that perfect little gleam in your eyes when you looked at him rambling about something you enjoyed, and his heart ached in deprivation.

And because of this, he could with full confidence say you were avoiding him- but as to why he had no idea.

Eddie's silent at the lunch table staring at nothing in particular, and though the guys -especially the freshman- had finally learned to normalize Eddie's peculiar-ness and oddities this new silence and bleak aura had them surprised. He was stuck in his head racking through everything that's happened in the last week that could have possibly scared you away from him.

He thinks about the time he asked you for help with his math homework, but that couldn't be it considering that definitely was not the first time he'd asked and definitely was not the first time you'd happily agreed to do so. He reminisces about when he'd come to visit you during your shift at the local library in boredom playfully bothering you as you re-placed books onto the shelf.

He thinks and thinks and thinks but nothing comes to mind for your sudden evasion.

"Dude, you think any harder and steam will come out of your ears," Gareth rolls his eyes at Eddie, "What the hell's wrong with you anyway?"

Eddie leans back in his chair and dramatically throws his head back to look at the ceiling, his hair flows behind him and moves as people walk by, "She's avoiding me."

Dustin's head snaps up, still chewing his food he inserts himself into the conversation, "Who? Y/N? I just talked to her last period, she seemed fine," He shrugged.

At that Eddies head pops back up, eyes locking with Dustin's in a way that leaves the younger boy cringing, and the crease between his brows intensifies, "So she's still talking to you guys but not me?" He starts to pout a little by the end of his question.

Everyone sends looks to each other before slowly nodding and Eddie's forehead loudly makes contact with the cafeteria table, the guys wince in response.

"Well... have you tried- I don't know, asking her about it?"

The glare sent in Mikes direction after his question almost makes him apologize. Eddie heatedly scratches his head and groans in irritation; he'd tried more than a handful of times to get ahold of you, tried more than enough times to just hear your voice again but nothing worked. When he waited by your locker you would walk the other way, when he called you, you hung up as soon as you heard his voice, and worst of all you would throw out the little notes he sent you in class as you walked out and away from him once again.

"Duh! Of course I have," Eddies reply is laced with annoyance and frustration, "But I can't ask her anything if she keeps running away- I mean come on! She won't even look at me, man." His voice is soft and emotional when speaking his last sentence, He runs his hand over his face weakly and suddenly he feels like he's being pitied. He doesn't want that.

He hastily moves to pick up his things, thrusting the items into his little lunch box with more force than necessary with a pout on his tired face before standing from his seat and angrily walking away across the cafeteria, from the table and the others. They all sigh when he makes it past the cafeteria doors and after a silent moment Jeff is the first who speaks up, "So- When do you guys think they'll get over themselves and finally get together?"

《----------♡

When the last bell rings after what feels like years to Eddie he's swiftly making his way out of class and out of the building, but now what time would usually be spent merrily walking to his car and making plans to see you during the weekend was spent instead making his way into the woods strolling past trees and going to the little picnic table placed in that clearing he visits every once in awhile.

He stares at the ground and his feet as he treads, kicking rocks, stones, and branches on the way.

Eddies just about there just a few trees away from the clearing before he hears footsteps other than his own a little ways ahead of him he pauses head finally lifting to look in front of him and waits to see who appears.

To his surprise you pop into his vision and his round, brown eyes widen. He goes to take a step forward his body automatically and urgently trying to get to you, desperately needing to be near the drug that is you, but he stops himself to observe.

You sit at the table and pull a book out from the satchel bag at your side and a humorous huff leaves through his nose, his face relaxing and lips curling up at the sight of you doing something you often enthusiastically spoke to him about before realizing that its a book he does not recognize, that you had started a new one, and you hadn't told him like you usually would have. The thought wipes the smile from his face in an instant and his brows furrow for the nth time that day.

He steps forward and does not stop himself this time, sauntering toward you almost as angrily has he had left the cafeteria without your knowledge as you are already too engrossed in whatever new story you were traveling into. When he sits across from you at the table you feel it shift with the added weight and at last realize that you are no longer alone.

When you eventually look up, placing your thumb in-between the pages you were reading to keep your place, your heart drops at the sight of the frustrated man in front of you. You try to move away but he quickly grabs your wrist urging you to sit back down, you look at him again and the anguish written on his face makes you find your seat.

Your gaze moves to your lap and Eddie doesn't let you go too afraid you run away again.

Eddie is the one to break the stifling silence, "Talk to me... please?" The sound of his voice makes your heart ache so guiltily it hurts, "Just- Just tell what I did wrong- tell me so I can fix it."

Though your mouth opens to respond nothing comes out and your eyes gloss over with salty tears. Eddie's hold on your wrist moves to your hand gently cupping it in his calloused palm while his thumb moves to continuously swipe over your warm skin.

Your cheeks warm at the intimate contact and it only makes your eyes well with my tears reminding you of why you were ignoring him in the first place.

"When you-," You struggle to get the words out of your closing throat but Eddie still listens patiently, "Last time... you- you did something. It wasn't a big deal to you- but um... to me it- it meant a lot and that's kind of the problem."

The brunette across from you leans in closer and tilts his head in confusion, "What did I do?"

You glance to the side in embarrassment but Eddie's thumb taps you twice to bring your attention back to the conversation, "Talk to me Princess; Tell me what I did so we can go back to normal, I miss my best friend."

You didn't want to go back to normal.

For the first time in days your eyes connect with Eddie's and you take in a shaky breath at the sight of his enchanting eyes. "You uh- you kissed me..."

Now he's confused. He had kissed you? When? He's sure he would remember finally getting to kiss you.

Your free hand travels to your cheek and it all clicks for him, the pieces falling into place. He can't help but let out a chuckle of amusement; you were right- he had kissed you, kissed you on your cheek, that is, a sweet little peck against your skin. His laughter dies out when you rip your hand from his, the tears in your eyes spilling over.

Eddie stands and rounds the table to you, "Hey hey I- I'm I shouldn't have laughed. Don't cry, sweetheart." His hands place themselves on your elbows as your hands move to cover your face. He starts to feel like that little kiss really did more than he had thought.

"Did it make you uncomfortable? I won't do it again I promise," You shake your head at his words, "Talk to me, baby."

"Don't do that! Don't call me those names if you don't mean it," Eddies eyes go wide at your outburst and his mouth opens to speak but you beat him to it, "you- you kiss me and call me those names and I- It's just too much... I like you too much."

All too quickly Eddie is forcefully removing your hands from your face and cupping your cheeks thumbing the tears from your skin, "I like you too much too."

"Don't be mean Eddie."

He connects his forehand to yours, both of your eyes closing at the closeness, "M'not, would never joke about that." His soft pink lips brush gently against yours as he speaks and your breath hitches. Your lips part slightly and your cold breath fans Eddie's face. "How can I show you I mean it hm? How 'bout... a real kiss?" He mutters. You nod all too briskly for someone who was just crying and it makes Eddie smile.

In the fullness of time Eddie presses his lips to yours and when he finally gets the taste of your lips on his he realizes he's waited entirely too long to do this despite being willing to wait an eternity for you. He's been starving for the absolute goddess that is you, now getting to satisfy that hunger digging in with no resistance and sliding his tongue past your lips flushed against him. The ache he had felt without you there fading once and for all as you kissed him back. Your hands atop his squeeze as a noise escapes the back of your throat and Eddie kisses you deeper at your audible reaction. He wants to consume you, wants to keep you so close you never leave his side, he needs it- needs you and makes sure it shows in the way he kisses you.

When he pulls away your both panting for air, Eddie's grin is smug on the top of your head and your arms are wrapped around him.

"I can't believe you made me feel like shit for an entire week just cause I gave you a lil' kiss on the cheek," Eddie mocked trying to get a quick quip in.

"Shut up! It totally freaked me out."

His loud cackle echoed in your ears and you smiled, pulling him closer and pressing your nose into his skin. Eddie's arms moved to wrap around you as well and his large hands snake around you also trying to squeeze you impossibly closer. He presses a fast peck on your cheek, then your temple, and then the top of your head. Eddie takes a deep breath inhaling the scent of you- memorizing it.

"Promise you won't do that to me again. Don't leave me alone like that again."

"I won't Eds, I promise."

"Besides! What are you going to do without me here being oh so entertaining huh?"

You laugh, "I have no idea."

[cerisahh]

summary — love language headcanons for the arcane characters (giving and receiving)

characters included — jinx, ekko, silco, vander, viktor

cerisa speaks — literally started writing this the night of s2 act 3 release and only now finishing it if that doesn't tell you something about how inconsistent i am idk what does. ATTENTION PEOPLE IN MY REQUESTS!! i swear to god i will do your request in the next year for sure! viktor forgive me, amen.

jinx — gift giving. jinx's most loyal companion is her imagination so it isn't hard for her to think of gifts that are personal to you that'd you'd enjoy.

we see many of the little homemade trinkets that she's made for silco throughout the years, my favourite being the ashtray he keeps on the desk in his office. so dependant on what you're into, she'll showcase her love for you in the form of a trinket.

oh, so you like to read? she sees you dog-earing a page of your book whilst you two are in her hangout and drops her current project to fashion you a bookmark. you only notice that her tinkering has stopped when the bookmark has been dropped on your lap and she's made a blasé comment about you destroying your book for too long so she just had to make you this so you'd stop.

hiding behind a mask of indifference when giving out her gifts is kind of her thing, but she's anxious to no end to see if you like it. her mind runs a mile a minute; 'don't they like it? do the colours not match? they hate it they hate it theyhateittheyhateittheyhateme-'

until you're holding it carefully between your fingers and your mouth is making that 'o' shape it does when something unexpected has happened. when you say that it's the most thoughtful gift you've ever received she's insistent on making you a hundred more.

physical touch. stop booing me i'm right! let me explain. as we see before powder becomes jinx, she's quite normal with physical contact, we see vi hugging her, putting a hand on her shoulder, claggor helping her down to the apartment, etc.

it's after vi slaps and abandons her that she becomes uncomfortable with physical touch. silco (most of the time) lets her initiate it on her own terms.

one time he doesn't is where she's playing airplane with his shimmer device and he grabs her wrist. she lets him retain his grip for a moment but when she does move her arm away he doesn't follow her. through my own delusions i've come to the conclusion that jinx wants, maybe even craves physical comfort, but quickly feels smothered by it when it's forced on her.

despite this, with the right person i feel like she would be willing to accept physical affection from them. it would take time to establish and develop a trusting relationship with jinx but when you're there, you're there. she's also a deeply insecure person when it comes to relationships of any kind and retaining them so you'll have to slip in some words of affirmation between touches.

her favourite way to receive physical touch would for sure be you playing with her hair. running your fingers through it and scratching her scalp? congratulations, that's your new job. you mention off the cuff how you'd love to see her hair down? suddenly there's a brush in your hands and an expectant and giddy jinx sitting in front of you.

even though she trusts you, she'll still get startled and tense up if you suffocate her with too much affection. holding your arms out for a hug or patting the seat next to you so she can lean into your arms is a much better way to initiate contact with her.

a little extra headcanon, when she's doing your nails she'll use her own hands to hold your fingers still instead of a wrist rest. she says it keeps them steadier so she doesn't make any mistakes but really she craves that subtle contact.

ekko — acts of service. season two episode seven dictates this as canon i'll be taking no arguments on this day. seeing his huge mural of future vi to show powder after he upsets her really just cements this headcanon. this is a pretty big action so i'll focus on the smaller ones for now.

starting off really strong with him decorating your room for you. close your eyes and imagine him building you a shelf to store your books or keepsakes. not only building it but carving designs into it. ohh you like music? well take a look at those carvings of sheet music! and do you spy some new books in your collection (stolen from a piltover library, naturally)

with so many different types of people living at the tree, at the beginning he was pretty much forced to learn how to cook all different types of meals. it paid off though because no matter where you hail from, he'll be able to prepare you any of your favourite dishes.

the more i type about ekko the more i realise he is the best househusband out of the arcane gang. he can cook, he can clean, he's a provider - he is quite literally the entire package. him being a certified pretty boy also helps because everyone needs a little eye candy in their life.

this one is sickeningly sweet but for relationship milestones, and even just randomly, ekko will fully plan out a date night for the two of you. picnics on the top of buildings that overlook the neon lights of the undercity, just the two of you. it's so intimate.

physical touch. now this i truly will be taking no arguments on. receiving physical affection for ekko is huge. we all saw how fast he hugged benzo in the alternate au!!

with so many people from his early life either dying (benzo, vander, claggor, mylo) or leaving (jinx and vi), ekko hasn't really had anyone to offer him any form of closeness. sure, he has the firelights. it just isn't the same though.

so when you come along with all the tender hugs and fond touches that he's been deprived of for so long he knows he's done for. consider him addicted. even just clapping a hand on his shoulder after a fight, hell, LEANING ON HIM?? that man is YOURS to command for now until the end.

knowing you're just physically there and not going anywhere - not abandoning him - he's content to bask in your presence.

quick kisses and brief glances at each other come in abundance. if you're not at the firelights base then you're on the go. it's these times that make you both appreciate the time you have with each other. ekko plans to take full advantage of the downtime you both have between missions. don't expect to stray a few feet from each other.

silco — acts of service. silco's acts of service are usually communicated through orders that he gives his goons. say you offhandedly mention that some shimmer addicts have set up camp in the alley next to your apartment. when you leave the last drop and go home you notice that those shimmer addicts you briefly complained about? gone. without a trace.

i feel like he prefers to give out acts of service to you as a kind of 'i can provide for you, don't leave' kind of thing. you don't need to ask silco to do something, he'll take the initiative. he wants you to view him as a reliable provider. this sounds very 50s but he's an old fashioned kind of guy so it checks out.

not the kind of guy to do chores at the start i'm afraid. he has people for that. maybe you can convince him to wash the dishes after you cook you, him and jinx a meal. but never and i mean NEVER will you catch this man hoovering or mopping the floor. that is just simply not going to fucking happen. you'd have better luck asking him to quit smoking.

not gonna lie he just lightens the load of whatever jobs you need to do so you can spend more time together. the famed eye of zaun is clingy.

physical touch. actually controversial take no way CHILLS! similarly to jinx, silco wouldn't actively look for physical touch in any given situation. he's obviously traumatised by his former best friend choking him out and drowning him underwater. not to mention completely brutalising his eye.

jinx is likely the only person he would willingly let touch him. not even sevika on a good day gets that privilege. you would need to spend a lot of time gaining silco's undying trust. only when you two are emotionally close will you be able to share his touch.

buying you jewellery just so he can feel the warmth of your body heat as he clasps the necklace around you neck. silco is very subtle and sneaky when he wants to be close to you.

his neck is off limits to everyone, even you. placing your hand on his collarbone whilst entangled in bed together is the furthest you'll get.

vander — physical touch. oh i just know this man gives the best bear hugs. physical intimacy with vander is just safety incarnate. when he takes you into his arms it really feels like a breath of topside air after a lifetime underground.

i don't think vander would really like being with a partner that didn't enjoy physical affection. it's not only a bonding experience for the both of you to engage in but also a display of trust that he deeply values.

conveying his love for you with intimacy, non-sexual and sexual is something he cherishes. the level of mutual understanding and relationship building that comes with it is indispensable to vander. basically the keys to a successful partnership with him.

that little symbol of love in the undercity where two people touch their foreheads together? that's the most significant way you can show that you truly care for someone and it's vander's favourite way to connect with you in moments of peace.

words of affirmation. vander is the type of guy to not necessarily need words of affirmation to feel good about himself but will appreciate it all the same. he tries so hard to be a good example to the kids and in general to the populace of the undercity. he wants this life to be better. he wants to be better.

he's the leader, the protector, all the pressure is on him. affirming his efforts through words goes further than you might think.

it's you and him against the world. the brewing political storm that plagues both the undercity and piltover is little more than a distant thought when you're whispering honeyed words to and fro in the dead of night. for a man with such an imposing presence, telling him that you love and need him makes him weak.

with your words of affirmation, he's more certain of his role in the undercity than he's ever been. you renew the passion he had in youth, he wants the best for you and will do whatever he can to obtain it.

viktor — quality time. viktor is all about sharing the same space as his partner. with him being the co-founder of hextech, it's difficult for him to find time alone to dote on you. which is why you''ll often find yourself in the company of viktor (and oftentimes jayce) in their lab, them working on a new use for hextech, and yourself either studying or simply watching the magic (literally) happen.

when jayce is off being the poster child of hextech or following councillor medarda around like a lost puppy, you and viktor will settle into comfortable silences. usually with the only noise being the tinkering of science equipment or the quick scribbles of pen on paper. there's no pressure to fill the room with unnecessary chattering. just you being with him is enough. your presence is akin to a relaxant to him.

sometimes most of the time you'll need to remind him to take breaks when you've been there for hours on end and he's showing no signs of stopping or slowing down. it's a practised routine at this point; he refuses, you leave it alone for five minutes, during this time he is sneaking glances at you when he thinks you aren't looking, waiting for you to ask again.

when you do, he feigns reluctance as you grab his hand to get you both some fresh air and a proper meal. he might actually be part cat now that i'm thinking about it. he just can't help but love spending time with you.

words of affirmation. actions speak louder than words? pft, yeah right. communication is deeply valued by viktor. he's exceptional at deducing someone's intentions behind their words so don't even bother trying to get something by him. it won't work. you try to plan surprise birthday party for him? he's one of the first people to find out about it.

so when you earnestly tell him how special he is to you or how appreciative you are of him, he knows it's 100% what you actually think and BOY does that fluster him more than anything.

he isn't very big on compliments, not that he doesn't value the ones you so willingly give him, but he finds it hard to accept the good and beauty you see in him. there will always be a part of viktor, machine herald or mortal man, that refuses to believe he could be good enough for this type of love. when he retracts inside his mind and lets his doubt drown him, it's you who can pull him out of the water and onto land. telling him that you love him just the way he is will silence his uncertainty.

oh you know what would just about finish him off? making him a lunch box and putting a note in there. it doesn't having to be something poetic, even a simple 'i love you ♡' will be at the forefront of his mind until he gets back home to you.

honestly, if you're someone who expresses their love through words of gratitude or proclamations of admiration then a relationship with viktor will be smooth sailing.

[soluversworld]

HEY GIRL so I was stalking fantasias page and looked at her NSFW alphabet for Sol with a wild card being "He thought about getting a Frenum piercing to see if you'd like it/feel the metal"

Idk if I already asked abt this or not😭

I GOT YOU BESTIE, NO YOU DIDN'T REQUEST THIS BEFORE!

(Edit, Wrote this because, I'm stressed out)

Genre : Smut

Sol x GN!ReaderContent Warnings: Piercing kink (frenum), first time, Sol, praise, soft dom/sub energy, possessive undertones, oral (M receiving), heavy blushing, Sol, mutual yearning, mild teasing, general smuttiness

It's been a while.

You found a place for yourself in this Uni- Not among Crowe's group.

It's with these idiots.

Hyugo and Solivan Brugmansia...

Hyugo's your best friend....

Solivan....

He's your boyfriend! Soulmate!

You trusted him so much after that incident. He made sure, you're safe! You trust him, Oh! You trust him so blindly!

You trusted him so easily, as if his devotion was a promise that would never falter. His presence was comfort, his words gentle, but there was a weight in his gaze you never noticed, a possessive hunger masked by sweetness. Every smile you gave, every laugh you shared, only tightened the invisible chains around you, binding you to his obsession. He swore to protect you, to keep you safe, but you didn’t see the way his hands trembled with the secret he held—how his love, though tender, carried the shadow of something darker. And maybe that was his plan all along: to make you feel so cherished, so adored, that you’d never suspect the madness lurking beneath his every word.

He's a sweet sweet rotten saint soul! You trust him. You trust him so easily, so wholeheartedly, as if his quiet words and tender gestures could never harbor anything but sincerity!

You trusted him, Oh, you trusted him, And maybe that was his plan— To have you so wrapped up In his sweetness, In his tender words, That you'd never notice The madness wrapped behind them. He loves you so much. And you— You just think he’s being kind.

Now! You made desserts for your boyfriend, sadly Hyugo thought it was for him! You giggle at Sol's cuteness how he pouted.

Hyugo’s voice is all joy as he clutches the dessert you made like it’s a family heirloom. His teeth are already sinking into it before he finishes the sentence, glitter practically beaming from his eyes.

You laugh. “I’m glad you like them.”

“They’re perfect. Sol, do you want a piece? They're really good!" he gestures toward the plate, eyes wide with expectant brightness.

Sol’s voice answers before he even fully looks at you.

“Of course…”

It’s low, smoky, almost reverent. He speaks like a cathedral whispering back a prayer. Then his gaze flickers upward—those red-orange eyes glowing beneath his lashes, already flustered just from the attention.

“But…” he pauses. “Ain’t that the schoolteacher you’ve been lookin’ all over for?”

You frown. “Who—?”

Sol's lips curve—barely—and Hyugo whips around before you can fully process it.

“Really? Wher—?” ” Hyugo whips around with a mouth full of cream and sugar.

Gone.

Sol’s fingers slide over the edge of the plate, slipping the last of the dessert while Hyugo’s back is turned. He takes a bite. Then looks directly at you with a flush crawling high up his neck.

“It is good…” he murmurs, cheeks pink as spring petals. “But… you taste sweeter.”

Hyugo turns back too late. “You ass!” he laughs, mouth open in faux betrayal.

Your heart stutters. The words come out so softly, so poetically ruined by his shyness and confidence folded together like mismatched origami. He says everything like it’s secret and sacred.

You should leave it alone.

But you’re not going to.

Later, your fingers are tangled in the soft cotton of his black-and-green striped shirt, the smell of old books and clean soap and something uniquely him wrapping around you like fog.

You pull him closer—close enough to feel his breath catch.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” you whisper, smiling against his jaw.

Sol stares down at you, flushed as ever. “Like what?” he says, voice barely holding itself together. “Like you're something I've spent my whole life dreaming up but only now dared to touch?”

You blink.

He bites his lip. “Too much?”

“No,” you say. “Not enough.”

He exhales, trembling. Then, hesitantly, he brings your hand to his chest.

“You make me feel like my ribs aren’t big enough to hold all the things I feel,” he says, breathless. “Like I’m gonna spill all over you if you stay near me too long.”

You kiss him.

He melts.

He’s trembling when you lift his shirt off, his chest kissed by shadows and silver—his nipple piercings catching the soft lamplight. His skin is warm, trembling under your touch. He always blushes when you stare too long, but he never looks away.

"You wanna stop?" you ask softly.

He shakes his head. “No. I wanna keep going.”

His pants come off slowly, reverently. And then—

You see it.

Nestled at the base of him, delicate and gleaming: the frenum piercing. A single bar of metal glinting like something sacred. His cock is flushed, hard, leaking slightly, twitching when he sees your eyes lock on it.

“You weren’t joking,” you murmur.

He swallows. “Was thinking about it for weeks... Did some research. Watched too many videos. Wanted to see if you’d… feel me differently.”

Your fingers trace up his shaft, slow and featherlight. He sucks in a breath when you brush over the piercing.

“You did this for me?” you ask.

He nods, cheeks darkening to crimson. “I wanted to be unforgettable.”

“You already were.”

Your hand wraps around him, stroking with delicate precision. Sol groans—quiet, desperate, his hips twitching into your palm. He’s leaking more now, eyes fluttering shut.

“Can I taste you?” you ask.

He whimpers. Nods.

You take your time.

Your lips kiss his inner thighs first—then the curve of his hip, the hollow where his body starts to tremble the most. His hands grip the pillow beneath his head like it’s the only thing anchoring him to earth.

Then your mouth is on him—your tongue tracing that silver bar, letting it drag across your tongue as you swallow him deeper. His hips buck.

“Oh f-fuck—” he gasps. “Y-you feel—You feel like—”

Like heaven. That’s probably what he meant to say. But Sol loses language in moments like these. Instead, he whines. Cries your name. Moans in breathless little sobs as you take him deeper, then back off—licking, teasing, letting that metal bar roll against your lips again and again.

He starts trembling—legs twitching, body arching.

“P-please,” he begs. “Please, I can’t—I’m gonna—”

You pull off, stroking him gently now.

“You can come,” you whisper. “Wanna see how pretty you look when you do.”

His hands clamp over his face. “You c-can’t say that—”

But it’s too late.

His body jolts—his back arches—his cock pulses hot and thick in your hand, twitching as you stroke him through it. His cum spills over your fingers, thick and messy, painting his stomach.

And Sol sobs your name into his palm like it’s the only thing he remembers.

Afterward, he clings to you like he’s starved for your presence. His cheeks are still pink. His arms wrap around your waist, keeping you locked in place like you might vanish if he even blinks too hard.

“I didn’t think I’d survive it,” he murmurs into your neck.

You run your fingers through his hair. “You liked it?”

He makes a sound—half whimper, half laugh. “I liked it too much.”

There’s a pause.

Then: “You’ll ride me next time, right?” he whispers, already breathless. “I want you to feel the piercing. I want— I want to hear what it does to you. I want to watch you fall apart on it.”

You bite your lip, pulse skipping. “Yeah?”

He nods into your shoulder. “I’ll blush the whole time. But I’ll survive it… for you.”

"Why not now Sol?"

"What?"

“I want you to kiss me.”

The words slip out of your mouth before you can fully process them, hanging in the air like a promise that’s been waiting for too long.

Sol’s eyes flicker. They’re bright, full of emotion, but also guarded—a beautiful storm. You see the hesitation, the vulnerability beneath his usual cool façade. The kind that only you seem to draw out of him.

His lips part, almost like he’s going to say something, but instead, he pulls you closer—slow, deliberate. His hands rest on your back, light, almost reverent, as though you’re something delicate he’s afraid to break.

And then, his lips meet yours.

It’s not rushed. There’s no frantic hunger in it, not yet. Instead, it’s soft, a slow and tender exploration of warmth and yearning. His lips press against yours with a quiet intensity that feels almost like a promise—like he's telling you everything he’s been hiding behind those shy smiles and hesitant glances.

He tastes like cinnamon and the sweetness of your shared dessert, his kiss a slow burn that builds with every soft touch. His hands trace the small of your back, his fingertips brushing over the curve of your spine as if memorizing the feel of you.

You let out a small breath, your own fingers threading through his hair, tugging him deeper. He responds instantly, pressing his body against yours, as though he can’t get close enough. Sol’s hands slip to your waist, his touch a little firmer, a little more desperate now, as though he’s afraid you might slip away.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs against your lips. “You’re the one I can’t stop thinking about. I—I don’t want anyone else.”

He loves you..

It makes your heart race in your chest, a beat that matches the rapid thumping of his own heart as he deepens the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours in slow, deliberate motions.

Your body responds instinctively, your hands roaming over the hard planes of his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your touch. His breath is shallow, his whole body trembling under the weight of the kiss.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with a mix of awe and something far more primal. “You make me feel things I can’t explain,” he whispers, his voice shaking just a little. “I—I never thought someone could make me feel this way. You make me weak.”

“You’re not weak,” you say softly, tracing his jaw with your fingertips, smiling when he shivers at the touch. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

He blushes deeply, his head dropping just a little, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. “I don’t deserve you,” he breathes. “But I need you.”

You lean in again, brushing your lips against his—soft, slow, like savoring the moment. His body leans into yours, his hands coming to cradle your face, holding you close, as though there’s nothing in the world but the two of you. His lips move with an aching tenderness against yours, as though he’s pouring everything he feels into this kiss.

“Don’t say that,” you murmur, pulling back to look at him, your fingers gently brushing the hair from his forehead. “You deserve every bit of this. You deserve to be loved like this.”

Oh you fool!

The words seem to settle around him like a warm blanket, and for a brief moment, his guarded expression softens completely. He closes his eyes, his face flushed, his lips parting slightly as if the warmth of your touch is all he needs.

Then, without warning, he pulls you back into a kiss—deeper this time, harder, as though he’s been holding back for far too long. His hands roam, tracing the contours of your body, and the kiss is everything—longing, need, affection, all tangled up together. You give yourself to it completely, letting the intensity of the moment sweep over you.

He pulls back, breathless. “I don’t know what I’m doing to you… but I need to feel you closer,” he admits, his voice rough with desire, but still carrying that poetic tenderness.

Your fingers slide down to his chest, feeling his heartbeat in the soft heat of his skin. You want him—now, more than ever. “Then make me yours,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his once more.

Sol’s eyes flicker, a slow smile curling at the corners of his lips, and before you can blink, he’s lifting you—gentle but firm—his chest pressed against yours, heart pounding, body shaking with anticipation.

“I’ll take my time with you,” he murmurs. “I’ll make you feel every inch of me. But you need to know—when I kiss you, you’re mine. When I touch you, you’re mine.”

His hands trail down your sides, soft and exploratory, making you gasp every time he finds a sensitive spot, every time his fingertips graze the edges of your skin.

His lips move to your neck, kissing the soft skin just below your ear, and you can feel him smiling against you, his breath hot and steady as he whispers against your skin, “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted… everything I never thought I could have. You make me feel—” he pauses, his lips trailing lower, “—like I’m home.”

Why is..Sol so possessive?

Why..?

Wait, It doesn't matter-

You don’t ask how you ended up on his lap. You don’t need to.

Sol's fingers trail reverently up your back, ghosting over fabric like he’s scared to touch skin too soon, as if you might vanish before him. He looks like a fever dream—shirt unbuttoned at the top, collarbones adorned with silver chains and the faintest mark you’d swear wasn’t there yesterday. Maybe it was. Maybe he wanted you to notice.

“I’ve thought about this,” he whispers, forehead resting on your shoulder, “so many times I’m not sure what’s memory and what’s fantasy anymore.”

Your fingers toy with the silver around his neck, gently tugging. “What part, Sol? Kissing me like this?"

“Yes. And—" He swallows. “Everything after.”

You tilt his chin. He blushes again. It’s violent this time. His cheeks are lit like fire—contrast against the dark room, against the green in his hair, against the faint, nervous tremble in his fingers.

“You’re so red, Sol.”

“I always get like this… when something I want becomes real.”

"Sheesh! Solivan, We just met 2 months at our art class..Hehe....You're cute.."

If only you knew, He knew you before

You kiss him before he can say more—soft, slow, and unhurried. He moans so quietly it’s almost a hum, his hands flying to your waist as though they belong there.

You move together gently at first—layers shedding like old poetry, piece by piece, until he’s bare beneath you. Beautiful. Huggable. Laced in silver and trembles.

You press your palm flat against his stomach. “I’m thinking about it right now.”

He looks like he might combust. And then—

“Use me,” he whispers. “I— I don’t care how slow or rough— just let me give this to you.”

You kiss him again, and then guide him inside.

He cries out—quiet and broken—when you sink down fully.

You feel everything. Not just the stretch of him, but the press of metal. The sharp contrast of temperature, the way it catches perfectly against your inner walls like a secret only the two of you get to share.

“God,” you whisper, “I feel it—”

His hands fly to your thighs, gripping tight. His eyes roll back, and for a terrifying second, he stops breathing.

“You okay?”

“Perfect,” he gasps. “Perfect—oh my god, you— you’re perfect—”

Each roll of your hips sends another jolt through him. His head tilts back, hair falling like ink across the pillow, the light catching the glint of metal on his lip, his ears, and now—there.

You take your time. Let him feel every inch. Let him blush and sob your name, the sound soft like a hymn being offered to a god he doesn’t believe in—only you.

His voice is breathy. Poetic. Delirious.

“Your name tastes better than every poem I’ve swallowed... And you— you feel like fire wrapped in silk. I can’t—I can’t last—”

You grind your hips, and his moan breaks off into something desperate.

“You’re allowed to finish, Sol,” you murmur. “You’ve been so good for me.”

That’s what does it.

His body arches, and he clings to you as if drowning, crying out your name like a prayer. His release is overwhelming—hot, thick, filling—and the pulse of it makes you shake.

You ride the waves together, tangled in breath and silver and sweat.

Later, when your breathing slows and you’re here, you glance at him again.

He’s watching you. Still flushed. Still blushing.

“Did it feel good?” he asks shyly.

You kiss his temple. “It felt perfect.”

Sol hums, eyes fluttering shut.

You raise a brow. “What if I change my mind?”

He turns, one arm wrapping around you, his voice low and possessive:

"...I won't let you."

[jaggedamethyst]

clandestine

viktor (arcane) x stripper f!reader

pairing: viktor (arcane) x f!reader

content: 18+ minors dni, smut, not thigh but lap riding, strip club obviously, some cursing, porn some plot idk, established relationship, secret relationship, not proofread

notes: i am not personally a stripper, but I have somehow seen a lot of movies and youtube vloggers explaining the culture and mindset they have…about doing this to get them to a next phase of their life. some people may not feel that way at all, and just do it to feel empowered….or literally just because its a job. no reason is more valued than the other, and I hope I did this justice because I have the utmost respect for every job. please let me know if anything isn’t hitting the way it should in that regard and i will make the edits <3

also, not an au… this was kinda inspired by lest. idk if it was ever confirmed, but the character kinda reads to me as a sex worker and I do love that. normalize including those stories in media.

word count: 2.1k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Stepping into the building always felt particularly specific for Viktor. The music was melodic but slightly too loud. Flashing lights almost always sent him off balance, leaning into his cane. A vibration pulsed—bouncing off every wall hard enough to make him physically swat the feeling away with his head. Yet, whenever he’d find his seat and glance across the room—all of it faded away.

Had there not been a physical spotlight, Viktor could still find you a mile away. He was completely entranced, mesmerized by the way you moved—even more so by the fact that it was an act. You were sweet, saccharine even, and you never showed it. That side was all for him. Only him.

When you were at the club, there was a veil over you—projecting a unique exterior. Dancing allowed you to disconnect and channel an identity you didn’t in everyday life. Often, you were misunderstood. Even more common was for you to be ignored—it wasn’t like that at work. You were respected and held at the same regard as everyone else. There were rules, and everyone followed them. You were an equal and you appreciated that.

Regardless of that feeling on stage, the money was also damn good. You grew up in the Undercity and you knew what it was like to have nothing. This fact was something you and Viktor bonded over initially. Later, both of your intellect and fondness for academics. He empathized, too, with you having no family…even more the fact that you started this venture to pay for your studies. That’s how the two of you found yourself dating. There was an unwavering kindness about Viktor, you loved that. The secrecy made every interaction all the more interesting, especially in the confines of the Piltover club.

The shift started like any other. You were on stage, moving to the rhythm of your song, Lest in your peripheral. You’d often recall how she was the first person to make you feel truly comfortable. She’d linger during your sets, calling security when needed, even speaking up for you when she realized you couldn’t. Lest gave you the push to take control, and the money really showed it.

You glanced down a bit, seeing some of your money get swept to the side. Lest had your labeled basket in her hands, grabbing some out of the way for you. In that split second, you saw a glint toward the back corner. You smirked, seeing your boyfriend spread on a chair—observing you through low eyes. You sped your tempo up, the stage now cleared enough for you.

Viktor noticed your arched a brow and stifled a chuckle. As you picked up the pace, he leaned back more comfortably in the chair. A hand held onto his cane, knuckles paling at the forceful grip. His other hand rested on the chair. His legs spread entirely, something he knew you loved. He was locked in, eyes roaming over every inch of your body as you danced. Your back was to him, then, ass shaking seductively in a way he’d always appreciated. You bent simultaneously, making a show of your legs before dropping into a split. You rolled your neck, looking toward Viktor. He watched your hand trace over your leg before tapping on it twice with a smile.

You’d definitely seen him back there.

Lest gave a knowing smirk, nodding over her shoulder “I see you spotted your regular.”

“Sure did.” You laughed at that, swinging your legs around. “It’s gonna be a fun night.”

“Oh I can tell.”

Lest didn’t know the two of you were dating, nobody did. That was the allure. Viktor could be the “regular” who showed up and dotted on you while you played the helpless stripper who so desperately needed his money. Neither were true, except that Viktor did love to spend his money on you.

Lest spoke up again, “You should head back there, before he gets restless…you know how they are.”

You moved to stand, doing a final spin and wave to the audience. “You’re right…can’t miss out on the money.”

“Exactly.” You moved to help add the rest of your money to the basket, Lest gripping it for dear life. “I’ll put this in the usual spot. We can do count after you rake in the big bucks.”

You high-fived Lest, watching as she turned immediately. You turned away, too, knowing that the chance of any of your money being taken was close to zero. You’d trust her with your life—so much so that you often debated telling her more about yourself outside of the club. Part of you figured she knew about your relationship and just played along. The thought of that made you love her friendship even more.

There was a drag in your step. You purposely made your strides slow as you inched toward the corner Viktor had chosen for tonight. His eyes had yet to leave you, but his free hand circled the arm rest. He was pent up, which was perfect, you thought.

He watched as you finally reached him, standing over his seated figure with your hands on your hips. You spoke first, yelling a bit over the music. “Funny seeing you here.”

He played along, eyes raking over your body. “I frequent here relatively often, do I not?”

You shrugged, looking away, “One could say that.”

He smiled, moving to stand up. You were a bit shorter than him, but slightly taller now thanks to your heels. He glanced down at them in adoration, loving the feeling of looking up at you. “You were stellar, love.”

You raised your head, flicking your hair. “Thank you, baby.” Your eyes lingered on one another, the genuine feeling of affection sitting between you both. Leaning down to whisper in his ear, you broke that sweet feeling. You played to his true intention; you knew why he was here. “Wanna go somewhere more private?” You let your lips linger for a second, hands coming up to rub his neck and behind his ears with your thumbs. “I know a place.”

He watched you pull back, looking up through his lashes. The smile on your face absolutely melted him. He reached down, slowly searching his pocket. He flipped up a bill that was settled between two fingers. “Lead the way.”

You plucked the money from him and grasped his now empty hand. The exchange had its own unspoken rules—Viktor would always pay, you would let him. The inherently degrading nature never found its way to your relationship but was instead a way to keep up appearances. For Viktor, it was yet another way to show his love for you. He’d give it all if he could—you deserved it.

He followed you, stalking behind your enticing figure. You’d shift every so often, your reflection moving with the tone of the lights. The sound reverberated off of you both, pulsing between your interlocked fingers. The bass slowly faded as you walked down the long hallway, even more so as you entered the secluded room.

The lights were low, a quiet music lulling in the room. Candles lit the area and added a hint of vanilla to the air Viktor appreciated—it smelled like you. He closed his eyes at the thought, enveloped by the scent and feeling of your skin on his palm. You glanced up, observing that the light on the cameras had been switched off. You huffed gratefully, knowing you had to thank Lest again later.

Viktor felt the pull of your hands and mindlessly followed until his back met the couch. He cleared his throat, looking over to you beside him. “So,” he paused, “How was your day?”

“Do you actually want to know how my day was?” You pursed your lips, sarcasm riddled all over them. “Or are you just indulging me so you seem like a gentleman?”

Viktor was frazzled at that, “What? No…” He brushed a hand to move his hair out of his face, “No! I would like to know-“

A kiss to his cheek interrupted him, “I know.” You nodded slowly. “But you should just ask for what you really want…I’m a busy woman after all.”

The flicker in his eye was one you genuinely loved—the switch from caring boyfriend to infatuated client.

“And what is it you think I want?” A hand brushed over your cheek, his thumb slowly finding its way to your lips. He looked down, rubbing his fingers across your skin.

You reached down, then, a hand firmly landing on his thigh. You maintained eye contact as you spoke—sliding a hand further up his leg. “I think I have a pretty good idea…”

“Is that so?” Viktor leaned back further to adjust his lap and purposely push his hardened length into your palm.

The two of you leaned in closer, the pull of each other undeniable. Slowly, your lips collided. There was an urgency, yet neither of you acted on it—an attempt to savor the moment. You maneuvered then, lips still connected. Viktor hummed against your mouth—a sound that left you smiling as you pushed a leg over his lap.

The once soft push of your lips together was now bordering on frantic. Every so often, Viktor would move to pull and suck on one of your lips—urging you on. You were lost in the motion—in him. Your hands snaked up the back of his neck and tangled with the hair at the base of his neck. With a forceful tug, you pulled him back. He was looking at you now, face flushed and lips completely swollen and glistening. Looking at him this way already had your underwear dampening. You refused to break eye contact, lowering yourself just on top of Viktor. Sucking in a breath, he tilted his head back—leaning into the couch cushion.

You began to circle your hips. The friction of the restrained material had you feral. “Fuck…” You continued, slowly circling and moving up and down his erection. “Fuck, Viktor.”

He matched you motion suddenly, circling his hips up into you. The motion had your insides pulsing. You couldn’t keep up the act, leaning down into the warmth of his neck. You felt him kiss and suck on your neck. He trailed kisses up and around your ear—moving around your hairline. His hands found your back, pulling you into him even more. Erratic breaths filled the room. All that was missing, you thought, were the lewd sounds of slapping you so desired. You’d give anything to be fully naked right now, letting him work all over you. But there was no time. The thought only spurred you on.

He spoke suddenly, “I needed this.”

“I know,” You push and pull into him faster, “Me too.”

The fabric barrier between the two of you was soaked now, a mixture of both of you. You slid back a bit, arms length distance away from Viktor. His mouth was agape from the lack of sensation, but quickly lost any will to argue when you began to swirl on his tip. He was always so sensitive there—and you were close. The rubbing on your clit had your breath shallow, your motions less rhythmic. He noticed, grabbing your waist to guide you to a speed that had both of your eyes rolling back.

“I’m close….”

Viktor pulled you into a kiss and mumbled into your mouth. “I am too.”

With a few more pumps against each other, you were finishing all over each other’s clothes. You accidentally broke the kiss, gasping for the breath that escaped you at the burning sensation in your body. Viktor didn’t stop, though, pulling you in impossibly closer. He worked the both of you through, choking out a whine as he shot out ropes into his pants.

The two of you sat there, embracing each other for a while. The feeling of each other was enough in the moment—drowning out the sensory overload of the club. Your finger tips traced over his features. You smoothed over his brows, the moles by his eye and lip, the divets in his cheekbones. He was entirely mesmerized by you—a devotion all over his face.

Light taps at the door broke the moment. You knew it would be Lest; she’d often drop by when you took a bit longer than management would like for just one customer. Opening the door a crack, you saw a pile there—a change of clothes for you and a smaller hand towel. You scooped them up quickly, moving back into the room.

Viktor was still watching you, a hand finding its way back to his cane. His grasp wasn’t as tight as before, you smiled to yourself at that.

You stripped quickly, moving to clean yourself and change your clothes. “Missed you today.”

Viktor pushed himself forward in the seat. “And I, you.” He staggered over to you, a hand pushing in and out of his pocket. He held up a bill again, “We should do this again sometime.”

A small chuckle escaped you. “Sure, baby.” You pecked a kiss on his cheek as he walked by you. “I’ll see you at home.”

[astrcmoni]

ᯓ☆ star’s midnight caller ☆ᯓ

MASTERLIST

☆ series masterpost: I II III

pairing: billie eilish x sex-hotline-operator!fem!reader

genre: fluff, smut(kinda)

synopsis: in the quiet of the night, you answer a call that pulls you into a world of mystery and intrigue. what starts as a simple conversation with a stranger turns into a connection you never expected, leaving you craving more with each ring.

wc: 2.4k

warnings: light cussing here and there

authors note: let me know what you guys think, i really liked writing this and i want to make a part two. also there’s no smut in this part but the concept of the hotline is sexual (idk if that made sense) anyways imma stop rambling byeee ☆

phone call style story — reader is in bold italics, billie is in blue italics.

————

wednesday 12:43 am — incoming call from +1 (980) 598-7201 (charlotte, NC)

“thanks so much, babygirl,” richard says from the other side of the phone, his voice soft, tinged with something like gratitude. “you always know what i need.”

richard is one of your regulars, calling at least twice a week. he likes to imagine that you’re his long-lost girlfriend, reaching out from some parallel universe. you let him ramble, your voice smooth and coaxing, playing into his fantasy like a script you know by heart. a light laugh here, a soft hum there, the occasional breathy moan when it fits the moment.

“anytime, boo,” you reply, fingers already grazing the disconnect button. “take care of yourself, okay?”

the line clicks off, leaving a brief silence that feels heavier than it should. you exhale, stretching your arms above your head as you try to shake off the remnants of his voice. just another call. just another night.

soft light spills through the corners of your room, golden and warm against the pale lavender of your walls. the curtains billow lazily, carried by a breeze that whispers through the cracked window. outside, the city hums—a distant siren wailing, cars rolling down the street below, someone leaning on their horn too long, too loud.

at your desk, you lean forward, catching your reflection in the mirror perched precariously against a stack of books. sticky lip gloss catches the lamplight, glinting like glass. your lashes look decent—lifted enough to remind you of your own femininity. normally, you wouldn’t bother. no one can see you, after all. but it helps, this small ritual. it’s armor in a way, a mask you slip behind before stepping into this role.

“alright,” you mutter, rolling your neck to release the tension settling in your shoulders. “one more call and i’m done.”

the surface beneath your elbows is cluttered—textbooks splayed open, scribbled lab reports fighting for space with overdue bills. it’s not glamorous, but it pays. and it’s enough, for now.

you adjust your headset, letting the padded cups press comfortably against your ears, and clear your throat. the practiced warmth creeps back into your voice as the phone chimes again, flashing another number across the screen.

wednesday 12:49 am — incoming call from +1 (310) 807-3956 (los angeles, california)

“hello, and thank you for calling the pulse network. this is star speaking.” your voice drops an octave, soft and inviting, the words sliding out like honey. “who do i have the pleasure of speaking with tonight?”

there’s a pause on the other end—static filling the silence like a breath held too long. then, a voice cuts through, low, smooth, and distinctly feminine.

“uh…hi?” she sounds hesitant, her voice fraying at the edges like she’s second-guessing herself. “is this…is this a-uh…hotline for…you know?”

your brows knit for a moment before relaxing. most callers know exactly what they want, their voices heavy with intent. but her hesitation feels different. delicate, almost.

“that depends,” you say, leaning forward slightly, your tone light and playful. “what are you looking for, my love?”

she exhales sharply, and you can hear the faint sound of movement—like she’s pacing, the rhythm of her footsteps soft and uneven.

“honestly?” she says after a beat, her voice quieter now. “i don’t even know why i called. jus’ bored, i guess. curious. didn’t think this would even work.”

a smile tugs at your lips, though you bite it back. calls like these are rare, but you don’t mind them. there’s something refreshing about the uncertainty, the lack of pretense.

“well,” you murmur, letting your voice wrap around the words like a velvet ribbon, “we’re here now. go ahead, tell me whatever’s on your mind. no pressure.”

there’s a pause, long enough that you glance at the timer on the screen, wondering if she’s about to hang up. but then she sighs again, the sound softer this time, like she’s giving in.

“is it weird that i’m calling?” she asks, her voice dipping into the quiet like it’s unsure of its place.

“no judgment here, love. everyone has their reasons.” your response is soft, easy, laced with practiced charm. but something about her feels different.

“i don’t even know mine.”

the line falls into silence again, thick and heavy, broken only by the sound of her breathing—steady, almost meditative. it’s the kind of silence that feels like it’s waiting for you to fill it, but instead, you let it linger, listening.

“what’s your name?”

you blink, caught off guard. most callers don’t ask that unless it’s part of the fantasy they’re crafting. most don’t care to know.

“well, what do you want it to be?” you counter, your voice tipping into something playful.

she laughs softly, the sound low and throaty, curling through the line like smoke. “no, that’s not what i asked. i wanna know your name.”

there’s a pause as you weigh her words, the sincerity behind them.

“star,” you say finally, keeping it professional, your tone steady. “you can call me star.”

“what’s your real name?”

her question lands heavier than it should. it’s not forceful, not even intrusive. just curious. like she’s asking for a story rather than a fact.

you hesitate, fingers tracing the edge of your desk absentmindedly. something about her voice makes you want to give in, but you push the temptation aside, slipping easily into deflection.

“you know, most people don’t ask me that,” you murmur. “they usually want to know what i look like, what i’m wearing. things like that.”

“guess i’m not most people, then.”

“come on, you’re telling me you’re not even a little curious?”

she chuckles, warm and low, the kind of laugh that sticks in your chest. “okay, i’ll bite. what are you wearing, star?”

you smirk, leaning back in your chair as the city hums faintly through the open window.

“blue and black pajamas” you reply, your tone light. “lace trim. very cute, if i do say so myself.”

“where’d you get it?”

“some victoria’s secret around my city. they were having a sale.”

“cute.” her voice dips, carrying a hint of a smile. “now, back to my question.”

you roll your eyes, though there’s no edge to it. she’s persistent, you’ll give her that.

“you’re just gonna have to call me star. can’t give you my name. not tonight, sorry sweetheart.”

“no, it’s okay.” she pauses, then repeats it, like she’s trying it on. “well, star.” there’s something deliberate about the way she says it, slow and careful, testing its weight. “i’m billie.”

her name sits soft and sure in the air, settling between you like it belongs.

“you seem like a billie.”

“do i?”

“mhm,” you hum, leaning forward against the desk. “so, billie. what do you want to talk about?”

“hmm.” she draws the sound out thoughtfully, the silence stretching just long enough to make you wonder if she’ll answer. “why do you do this?”

the question hits you in a way you don’t expect, cutting through the usual rhythm of calls. most people don’t ask—don’t even think to ask.

you consider lying, giving her something easy, but the weight of her question lingers, tugging at the edges of your honesty.

“it pays the bills,” you admit finally, your voice soft. “and it’s not as bad as people think. i meet some…very…interesting people.”

“like me?”

the corner of your mouth quirks up, her words pulling at something playful in you.

“you tell me. are you interesting?”

“guess that depends.” she pauses, her voice curling with quiet amusement. “you think i’m interesting so far?”

“so far? i’ll give you a solid maybe.”

her laughter spills through the line, warm and unexpected, and it lingers in your room long after it fades.

“oh really? how long have you been doing this?”

“for about…” you pause, eyes flicking up to the ceiling like the answer might be scrawled there. “for about a little over a year now.”

“damn. that’s a long ass time.”

you chuckle, the sound warm and easy. “it is, isn’t it? i don’t know, i don’t mind it though. all i do is answer the phone. sometimes i do schoolwork, cook—small things like that. not like i necessarily have to be fully present for it, as long as i’m paying attention, you know?”

“you’re in school? just exactly how old are you?”

“wait—before we continue, you’re aware it’s a dollar seventy-five per minute, right?”

“uhh, i wasn’t, but i don’t mind it.”

“ooh, so you’re rich then?”

she laughs, a low, honeyed sound that settles in your chest. “i wouldn’t say that. i’d say i’m… comfortable.”

“only rich people say they’re comfortable. but to answer your question, i’m twenty, in my junior year. babe, you?”

“okay, not bad. i’m twenty-three. though i did think you were much older.”

you snort, rolling your eyes even though she can’t see it. “not bad? we’re practically the same age.”

“mm, i got about three years on you, so… no,” she laughs, her voice carrying a teasing lilt. “what are you majoring in?”

“criminology. mainly forensics and things like that.”

“that’s so fucking cool. so you’re like those people on tv who examine bodies and shit?”

“yeah, but doing it in real life is way different than it looks on tv.” you close your eyes, the memory of your first dissection flashing briefly. “especially lab work. but you get used to it after a while.”

“still, that’s badass. you must be super smart.”

the compliment catches you off guard, heat crawling up your neck. “i guess you could say that,” you mutter, a quiet smile tugging at your lips.

the conversation flows easier after that, like water finding its way downhill. you don’t even realize when you’ve moved to your bed, your headset cast aside as her voice fills your room through the speaker.

she asks you everything—your favorite movies, the hobbies that keep you up at night, the kind of music that makes your soul hum. the questions are simple but intimate, slipping past your usual defenses like she’s known you for years.

and you answer her. honestly, without hesitation. there’s something about her voice, warm and unhurried, that pulls the truth out of you.

you find yourself smiling, more than you have in days, fingers absentmindedly playing with your hair as you lean into the sound of her. it feels oddly intimate—like a late-night call with someone who’s already carved out a space in your life.

“so,” she asks after a lull, her voice soft but curious, “what’s your favorite movie?”

you grin, closing your eyes as you let the answer roll off your tongue. “pulp fiction. it’s a classic, don’t judge me.”

“no judgment. i respect it. but you gotta admit, it’s a little basic.”

“oh, and you’re not basic? let me guess—you’re gonna say something artsy like ‘a clockwork orange’ or whatever.”

“wrong. mine’s ‘the shining.’”

“oh, so you’re a horror girl. noted.”

she laughs, the sound warm and easy, and you realize you don’t want the conversation to end. not yet. not with her voice lingering in your room like this.

“what about you?” you murmur, breaking the soft rhythm of silence that had settled between you.

“hm? what about me?” her voice lilts, curious but guarded.

“what do you do? like for work?”

there’s a pause, long enough that you wonder if she’s going to sidestep the question entirely. but then she exhales, the sound quiet, like she’s carefully letting something go.

“i’m a musician,” she says finally, her words tentative, like they might break if handled too roughly. “or i guess i was… i teach music now.”

her admission catches you off guard, a flicker of something vulnerable passing through the connection. but you don’t press her, sensing that whatever she’s offering is enough for now. instead, you let the conversation drift, carried by the quiet ebb and flow of her voice.

the hours blur like watercolors, the world outside fading until there’s only her.

eventually, her tone softens, the edges of her words rounding with sleep. “it’s getting late. i should let you go,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

you glance at the alarm clock on the wall, the soft red digits blinking 3:35 a.m. back at you. exhaustion tugs at you, but the thought of ending the call feels heavier than it should.

“but…” her hesitation pulls you back to her. “can i call you again? i had a really good time.”

your heart stumbles over itself, a small hitch in your chest. “yeah, of course you can.” your voice dips into something softer, something closer to truth. “i had a good time too.”

“great. goodnight, star.” there’s a smile in her voice, light and unguarded, and it lingers in the air even after she’s gone.

“goodnight, billie.”

the line goes quiet, and for a moment, you sit there, the warmth of her voice still brushing against you like an afterglow.

you slip off your bed, padding into the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth. the cool water shocks your skin, but it doesn’t chase away the heat curling low in your stomach.

when you return to your room, the lamp clicks off with a soft snap, plunging the space into shadows broken only by the shifting colors of your tv. you slide under the covers, the faint hum of a late-night rerun filling the silence. the images blur on the screen, but all you can think about is her voice, the way it clung to the edges of the night, soft and sure.

a ding pulls you from your thoughts. your phone glows faintly on the nightstand, and you reach for it, the sudden brightness making you blink.

new transactions — 4:03 a.m.

+1 (254) 783-0184 (dallas, TX) - $26.25

+1 (980) 598-7201 (charlotte, NC) - $43.75

+1 (310) 807-3956 (los angeles, CA) - $315.62

you smile, the corners of your lips twitching up involuntarily. it’s nothing unusual, but tonight it feels different, lighter somehow. you turn the screen off and set the phone back down, a quiet sense of contentment settling over you.

for the first time in a long time, you find yourself looking forward to your next call.

inspired by @whore-era

astrc’s tag list: @zendayasredbottoms @bilsdillldough @billiesrighthand @watercolorskyy @bilssturns ; hit my asks saying “add to taglist” if you want to be on my regular taglist for all billie content!

[avianyuh]

Kim Mingyu as a boyfriend...

I feel like people naturally gravitate towards Mingyu

And that's for many different reasons

He's always given off the impression that he's a kind person

The way he treats his members (basically his brothers at this point)

The way other people act around him

Idk I've just always gotten the impression that what you see on camera is most likely what Mingyu is like off camera

He's just a real dude living that "idol" life

So anyways...

What would it be like to date Mingyu?

Well first off all, I think he'd make you laugh

A. Lot.

A literal ray of sunshine

Mingyu is an extrovert

Extroverts get a lot of their energy from being around other people

I'd see him acting all happy, trying to wake you up in the morning

Kissing your face all over, whispering, "Wake up."

Of course with that infamous smile on his face

Or picture going out to eat with him.

Sitting at the table, picking food off of each other's plates, just talking about your day

Or going to different things together, like parties

And he's navigating through the crowd, holding your hand tightly in his own, never letting go of it

Oh, imagine the hugs he'd give?

He's so tall so it'd feel like you're being enveloped into his warm, *muscular*, embrace.

You'd probably meet Wonwoo first considering the fact that they live together

I see Mingyu as the type to really help you out when it comes to social situations

If you were a little shy around his members when you first met them, he would always be by your side, making jokes and trying to get you to feel comfortable and fit in

Because he cares about you, and he wants you to become as close with his members as he is

Another trait of Mingyu's is that he gets flustered when he gets complimented

He appears to be a really confident person, but I do think that deep down, praise is something he might not necessarily e used to hearing

Like don't get me wrong, I'm sure that he's aware of the fact that he's a hot man...

But even the hotties have their days where they need some encouragement

So when you compliment his hair, or his outfit

You can see how his cheeks turn red and he starts to nervously laugh

"What? Mingyu I think you should wear that color more often!" you'd laugh as you watched Mingyu cover his face, peeping in the mirror in front of him to see if you were telling the truth.

As with most of my BF headcanon posts, I'm sure Mingyu would be counting down the days until he felt like the relationship was serious enough to introduce you to his family

And he'd really try to make sure you meshed well with them too, just like with the members

Anyways, back to more of his litlte habits

Mingyu would be the type of boyfriend that would do something stupid just to make you smile or, even better, laugh if you were having a bad day

It legitimately breaks his heart to see you upset

Would have beef with anyone who hurt you

You got in a fight with your friend, but you resolved it? Mingyu tolerates her, but deep down, he hates her now

But he'd never tell you that because he doesn't want to overstep

But if you and that friend ever got in another fight, the minute you'd try to vent to Mingyu he'd blurt out;

"I KNEW THERE WAS A REASON WHY I NEVER LIKED HER!"

And you'd be like: 👀

But speaking of friends...

I think he'd constantly be talking about you

In his friend group

With the other members

He'd become that guy where someone would ask him what he did over the weekend or on his day off and he'd turn the conversation into a 30 minute conversation of why you'd be the best perosn to travel with or something

Remember how I said Mingyu is always there beside you to back you up?

Well, even if you aren't with him, he's always going to hype you up if he mentions you

Another trait of his that comes to mind is his cooking skill

Word on the street is that Mingyu can chef it up

So let's say you don't feel like going out that night

No problem, Mingyu's gonna make you some good home cooking

And he's say something stupid like how the food is "infused with his love."

*Ahem*

If you're a frequent reader, you know what time it is...

Shexy Shtuffffff

GURL

Have you seen those arms?

Yes? Well I'm gonna show you a pic anyways

Just so we have a visual element involved

What's that doja cat song? Where she talks about that wrestling position lmao

omg let me shut up

Okay, for him I see a lot of physical affection

A lot of making out

Kisses would be his version of eye contact

A lot of caressing your face

He's pretty athletic, so I could see him having high stamina

Like, I don't see you being able to retire for the night after one round with him unless he's really tired from work

Would probably be loud in bed

But I don't see him as a risk taker when it comes to stuff like location

So you'd be getting freaky ONLY in the sheets

Or maybe the shower

Here's my thought process:

Maybe if he knows no one's around he'd do you on the couch if you were watching something and he was getting turned on

But I mainly see him as the type to do the foreplay on the couch or in the kitchen

Or maybe if you guys are out somewhere and he's starting to get a little frisky

He'd be he type to rush home just so you could have sex

Um, and if you've seen that man, enjoy and congratulations

_

TAGS: @minvxq *I remembered!*

_

{A/N: Hiiiii. I know it's been a month but the winter season has me DEPRESSED. I had a pretty hectic end to my semester. A lot of work all at once but I'm officially on my winter break now and my brain can finally feel like it has a break ,which means I had the mental clarity to write again. I thought a head canon would be a good way to ease back into writing, so I hope you guys like it. This one was requested so as always, I love you and have a good day/night, mwahhhhh💋}

[hyukalyptus]

something nice — sub!fem!reader x dom!yeonjun x servicetop!kai

cw. reader is in an established (open) relationship with yeonjun, cucking? (kai eats reader's pussy while yj watches lol), cunnilingus ofc, nipple play, orgasm denial, edging, pet names (baby, jjun), begging, mention of "punishment" but nothing's ever done, yeonjun and kai talk about reader and what they're gonna do to her (without her understanding—everything is consensual in the beginning, but read note below), let me know if there's anything else. notes. IMPORTANT: ok so the tea with this one. the idea here is that the reader doesn't speak korean well and kai and yj are speaking korean to kinda talk about the reader and what they're gonna do to her so she doesn't understand. nothing aggressive, just describing what to do to her body so she's kinda surprised? SO!! anything in italics is in korean. thats important!! also idk how i feel about this???? smut under cut. wc. 1.5K

“Did she give you a reason or did she just break up with you?” You’re eavesdropping on Yeonjun and Kai—not that they’re being very secretive. They’re talking about a woman Kai’s been seeing while you play video games and attempt to translate in your head, but you're not being too successful, catching a few words here and there. 

“She did say one thing,” Kai says hesitantly. “But it’s kinda embarrassing.”

“What is it?”

“Well,” he starts, scooting closer to Yeonjun to awkwardly whisper something to him, twiddling his thumbs, running his fingers through his hair.

“Oh,” Yeonjun chuckles. “That’s…man, if you get really good at that, you could date anyone.”

“What are you talking about?” You finally pause your game, curiosity getting the best of you. Looking up, Kai looks like you caught him stealing cookies from a cookie jar while Yeonjun tries to hold back a chuckle. The three of you exchange looks until Yeonjun rolls his eyes to bluntly say—

“Eating women out.”

“Yeonjun—!” Kai says, shoving his arm.

“What?” He chuckles, returning the shove. “I eat her out all the time. She knows what it is. She knows you eat pussy too.”

“But that’s why that woman broke up with you?” You ask. “Because you…you're bad at eating pussy?” He blushes, averting his attention to the floor while he clasps his hands together, nodding shyly.

“Be honest, babe—am I good at eating you out?”

Looking between the two of them, you sit up and say, “Yeah, you’re probably the best I’ve had, but we’re super compatible, you know? We’re, like, super in love. That makes a big difference sometimes.”

Holding back a cocky smile, he asks, “But, objectively, I’m pretty good, right?” You shrug and nod—really, he probably is the best you’ve ever had, but that’s another story. 

“What makes it good?” Kai asks.

Humming, you think before saying, “First, he doesn’t go straight for it.” Turning red and ears getting warm, you gush and— “Oh god, Kai, don’t look at me when I tell you this.”

“Ah, this is ridiculous,” Yeonjun exasperates. “Do you just wanna practice on her?” You both whip your heads in his direction. “If you’re comfortable with it, of course,” he says to you. “Just thought it might be helpful.” 

Oh, how did you end up here? Laying in Yeonjun's bed, clenching your thighs together out of nervousness. “Remember, this is kinda specific to her. Pay attention to what whoever you’re with wants.” Kai nods, kneeling at the foot of the bed.

“She already said this—” Yeonjun says. “I don’t go straight for it. I kiss her first, then make my way down there.”

“You want him to kiss me?”

He shrugs and says, “If you’re alright with that.”

“If you are,” you say, looking Kai in the eyes. Both of them can’t help but notice the confidence you seem to be exuding, especially compared to Kai. Trembling fingers reaching for your cheek, he looks at you for permission one final time. Finally leaning in, his lips press to yours. 

You’d forgotten what it was like to have a first kiss with someone. Kai’s kisses are different from Yeonjun’s. Kai’s are much more cautious, more careful—not necessarily shy, but careful. It quickly turns hot and heavy. But you remember Yeonjun is watching you, suddenly overtaken with bashfulness, you break the kiss to glance over at him. 

Him and that sinister smile. 

Turning back to Kai, you crash into his lips again, humming into his mouth and smirking to rub how much you're enjoying this in Yeonjun's face.  

“Touch her,” Yeonjun says. “Kinda slowly, but then a little more intense.” Kai does as he’s told, his hand dragging up your hip to squeeze your tits. “Under her shirt.” 

His hand on the outside of your bra feels new and exciting. Reaching around your back to unhook it, you break the kiss to take your shirt off, pulling at the hem of his. 

“Slow down for a second,” Yeonjun chuckles and Kai listens, placing gentle kisses to your collarbone. “Lick her nipples.” Swirling his tongue around your nipple, you gasp, reaching for his hair. “Pay attention to which one she likes better.”

Kai tests both, slyly licking between the two. After testing the waters, he picks correctly. You chuckle thinking about Yeonjun sitting on a chair across the room, smirking in approval. You could look for yourself, but you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. 

“Keep licking her until her hips roll.” This is a bit crazy, isn’t it? The guy you love telling another man how to fuck you the way you like. “Not yet.” Yeonjun switches to Korean, making you roll your eyes. If you didn’t have the energy to translate in your head earlier, you definitely can’t focus enough to translate now.

Lips trailing down your body, he tugs at your shorts, but keeps your cute pink panties on. Yeonjun talks him through every move—to lick his thumb and rub your nipple, to press his nose to the outside of your panties, to skate his lips across your inner thighs. 

Your hips roll uncontrollably, practically begging him to taste you. 

“Kai—” You whisper, your body instantly burning at the sound of the both of them chuckling. Pulling your panties down and off your legs, he throws them to Yeonjun who happily wads them up to sniff them and smell how delicious you are. 

Licking his thumb again, he keeps rubbing circles over your nipple as he finally licks your clit, your back arching as soon as he touches it. 

“Fuck—” You say breathlessly, looking down at him as his eyes sparkle up at you, your head dropping to your pillow with a thud. “Who the fuck is this bitch that says you’re bad at this?” He shakes his head, digging deeper into your pussy. 

Smiling cockily, you look over at Yeonjun, trying to control his breathing. He can’t help it—the two of you are just too hot together. He's never been able to enjoy this kind of view before. Seeing how every part of your body reacts to being touched—it's an incredible view.

“Please tell me he’s allowed to make me cum, baby,” You beg.

“Of course,” he chuckles smugly. “If he can.” Kai’s eating you out like he’s absolutely starving. And it’s true—he can’t help it. You taste too fucking good. 

Your eyes squeeze shut as you start squeaking, throwing your head back. 

“Okay, that sound means she’s gonna cum soon. Try to bring her as close to the edge as possible and then stop.” 

“Fuck, Kai,” you breathe. “Right there—yes.” You can’t believe how good he is at this, especially given the reason you're under his tongue right now. He’s supposed to be bad at this, right? 

You’re so fucking close and he can feel it. “Don’t stop—” he brings you right there. And then he does it. He stops. “Agh, fuck you,” you groan. Looking down at him, his smirking at you, eyes flashing between you and Yeonjun. 

He doesn’t waste too much time before getting back to your pussy, flicking his tongue over your clit. 

“Take it away from her for a bit. Lick her nipples again.” He does just that. You’re aching, bucking your hips over and over, desperately trying to relieve some kind of tension. But his tongue does feel amazing on your tits. Threading your fingers through his hair, you tug at it hard. He groans, his mouth dropping open like you just unlocked a new kink of his. 

Now he can’t take it anymore. Hips jutting forward, you feel the roughness of his sweatpants drag against your center, relieving some of that tension. You gasp, resorting to begging him to get back to licking you. 

“No, don’t,” Yeonjun says sternly. 

“But I want to,” Kai whines back, looking at your pussy hungrily, sticking the tip of his tongue out, giving his best begging eyes. But Yeonjun just shakes his head, satisfied with watching you uncontrollably rolling your hips up toward Kai’s mouth. Kai compromises, wrapping his hands around the backs of your thighs to yank you closer to him and presses his lips to the skin right around your clit, teasing you even more. 

“Babe—” you breathe, begging Yeonjun with your eyes to let him continue licking you. 

“I know, baby, I know…” he responds, his voice low and rough. He finally lets him lick you again. But he doesn’t show much mercy. He repeats the same tactic over and over—having him bring you right to the edge, even to the point of tears, then he stops right in his tracks.

"I'm gonna tell you to stop, but I want you to keep going, okay?" Kai nods, agreeing to his instructions. Bringing you to the edge again, you're begging for mercy, begging to cum. "Don't let her cum, Kai," he says, making tears form in your eyes. "Stop—"

And he does.

"I told you to let her cum that time."

"Sorry," he smiles up at him, licking his lips. "It's so fun to see her beg like that though." Tilting his head toward you, he says, "Look at her...she's got tears in her eyes. Isn't that the hottest fucking thing you've ever seen?"

"It's okay, baby," he says, fingers flowing through your hair while Kai's mouth finds your clit again. You're moaning, gasping for air, swearing, screaming, anything to try to find a release. "Not yet. Don't let her fucking cum, Kai." You don't think you can handle this much longer. Edging is nice, yes, but this? This is bordering torture.

"Please, please, please, Jjun..." you trail off. "Just please let me cum. I can't take it anymore."

"I know you can take it, baby. Fucking taking it so well..."

It's building again. That knot in your stomach that gets tighter and tighter with every second. That white hot fire in the pit of your stomach waiting to explode.

"Don't stop, Kai," you blurt. "I'm gonna cum—" Slamming your palm over your mouth—you shouldn't have said that. He's gonna make you regret saying that.

"Don't let her cum," he orders.

But his grip gets tighter. His tongue licks furiouser. His face digs deeper. You're so fucking close. Closer than you've ever been tonight.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Kai..." your orgasms crashes over you like a bolt of lightning. "Yes, fuck yes, that feels so fucking good." You feel like you're having an out of body experience. It's one of the best fucking orgasms of your life. "Don't stop, right there." You chest heaves with heavy breaths.

Coming down from one of the best orgasms of your life, your vision clears up and all you keep thinking is how much Yeonjun's gonna make you pay for this. You came without his permission—what's he gonna do now? Everything flashes across your mind: not letting you cum for a week, spanking you until your ass had his hand print on it, tying you up for hours, you're not sure.

But he doesn't do any of that. His hand caresses your cheek as he smiles down at you, "Did that feel good, baby?"

Confused, you nod, "Mhmm." You're still nervous, looking around at everyone's reactions. Kai's smirking while he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Bad at eating pussy my ass," you say, shoving his shoulder with your foot.

"Ah, I knew you a had a little crush on him...I've seen how you look at him." Your face turns beet red. He's noticed that? Oh god... "I just wanted to do something nice for my baby."

[damiansgoodgirll]

OK I found it! (No rush what’s so ever BUT!)

(During Roman’s tribal chief era.)

!Female Reader always had a crush on Roman, but was always too scared to ask him out.

One night during a match Kevin Owens costs her the match, (kinda like how Dom cost Raquel that one time) (you can pick between who ever is on the smackdown roster to have reader up against but it’s also not really required if you don’t want to.)

And basically the bloodline, mainly Roman goes to readers rescue, cause beef with Kevin.

(I know it’s not really…LIKE Roman to do something like that because he’s the tribal chief, but I feel like it would be a nice concept idea.)

Idk just fluff and adorable and what ever cause Roman… LMAO.

sorry it took me so long writing this but i’ve never written for roman and i had no idea on how to start 😭 i hope you like it + the timeline doesn’t really exist here lol

roman reigns x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated

‼️nothing major, hurt/comfort, angry roman, some fluff too, kevin owens is mean here sorry

my weakness

everyone loved roman. yes, he played the big mean guy part and he was definitely good at it but deep down you knew that he cared. he cared for his family, his cousins, the fans, he even cared about his opponents while in the ring. deep down you knew he had a big heart and he was a kind person who pretended to be the bad one.

and maybe it was because of his big mean yet kind personality you caught feelings for him.

it’s not that you were big friends - you had a closer relationship with the usos and your shy personality made it harder for you to get to know him better.

but there were times when you and roman spent some time alone. at the gym, training before a big match or backstage, his presence was nice and even if you didn’t speak much, you enjoyed being around him even if the only present sound was the silence.

unbeknownst to you, roman always admired you. he adored your quite presence. when everyone was noisy around him, he found comfort in your silence. your presence was enough for him.

and his admiration for you didn’t go unnoticed backstage but everyone kept quiet, too scared the tribal chief would get mad if someone said something and they know better to not upset him.

all the locker room knew about that. the saw how roman was nice in your presence but mean with everyone else and even if it made you laugh, you never thought more about that.

even if you had no real beef with anymore backstage, somehow kevin picked you as a main target just to made roman even angrier.

it was going all good on friday night smackdown and you had a match against tiffany - if you won over her, you would get a title shot against nia and after being in the industry for over five years with little to no titles opportunities, you were ready to take it all.

it was your moment to shine, to prove everyone that you deserved to be the women’s champion.

what you didn’t see coming was kevin owen running towards the ring the moment you almost pinned tiffany. you almost had it. but you got distracted by him running and tiffany saw that as an opportunity to stand up and hit you in the back.

you were kinda surprised to see kevin there, why was he even there? he barely talked with you backstage and you pretty sure he wasn’t there to help tiffany as he had no business with her either.

feeling pain in your back, you tried to take back control inside the ring but when kevin got closer to the metal stairs, you and the blonde woman both turned your head towards him.

“what are you doing?” you almost screamed, definitely irritated that he was there to ruin your moment “get down kevin…”

but he stood there, watching the way you and tiffany kept fighting. for the second time that night you had the chance to pin tiffy down but you were too close to the cords and nonchalantly kevin put tiffany’s leg over them.

“what the heck! kevin!” you screamed, even angrier now. you were pretty sure you did him no harm so why was he ruining your moment like that?

at this point you were tired and in pain. kevin was trying to sabotage you and you didn’t know if you had the strength to pin tiffany down for a third time.

meanwhile backstage roman was getting ready for his interview later that night and he had no idea what was happening in the ring. he knew you had a match and he was dying to see it but jimmy forced him to repeat his lines for the interview and he was missing all of your match, until jey came to the tribal chief private locker room and asked him if he knew why was kevin ruining your moment.

roman scrunched his nose, trying to elaborate what his cousin just told him “what did you say?” his tone hard.

“kevin is costing y/n’s title opportunity man, i didn’t even know those two had beef” jey uso repeated.

his words making roman’s blood boil “they don’t” he simply said before he left his changing room.

you fought with every single bone in your body. your head was spinning, your back was killing you and you were tired but you wanted that title opportunity so you kept fighting and for the third time that night you had the chance to pin tiffany down, only for kevin to grab you by the leg and drag your body away from the blonde one.

you couldn’t understand. you really couldn’t.

was it in the script and no one told you?

was your career so pathetic that superiors wanted you out of any title opportunity and instead of telling you, they sent kevin?

your mind was spinning so fast and even faster when your teary eyes met kevin’s eyes. somehow you knew he felt guilty about what he was doing to you and yet he kept going on, dragging your body out of the ring.

you had no strength left so you laid there, hearing the bell ringing, letting tiffany win, and you lose, again.

the crowd erupted in boos, especially since everyone was waiting for your match and cheering for you.

you still laid there, trying to catch your breath again when you suddenly heard the crowd going apeshit.

a very mad roman reigns was running towards kevin owens and punched him right in the face. you quickly stood up, surprised he was even there.

you stood by the ring, a hand behind your back as you tried to catch your breath once again. jimmy and jey coming to your rescue as you all watched roman dragging kevin inside the ring “your beef is with me, now with her…you’re gonna pay for this” he whispered, almost as a promise before leaving the ring.

the crowd was cheering, thinking that it was all part of a script and some even thought that you were going to join the bloodline but you honestly had no idea what was happening.

you saw roman waking towards you, his eves never leaving your body “you okay?” he asked but you were too confused that didn’t even answer “let’s get you backstage…” and for the first time you saw the twins walking in front of him as. roman’s hand gently moved to your back as he helped you walking away from the scene.

medical staff checked you out and luckily you had nothing broken. you were just in a big uncomfortable pain.

roman brought you to his changing room, telling jey and jimmy to go somewhere else as he wanted to speak with you - alone.

“are you okay y/n?” he asked once you sat down on his couch.

“yeah, i think so…” your voice trembled. you definitely weren’t okay. you didn’t even know what happened in the last thirty minutes. your brain couldn’t comprehend it.

“you’re not okay…come here” he gently sat next to you and engulfed you in his big arms. you didn’t even realise you started crying. soft whimpers left your body as roman stroked his hand over your back “kevin is gonna pay for what he did” he said with stern voice.

you looked up at him, quickly wiping your tears away “i don’t think i’ve ever been mean or rude to him, why would he cost me the only title opportunity i’ve been given in five years?” you said mostly to yourself.

“because of me…” roman didn’t want to confess. he didn’t want to ruin the little friendship you two had.

your look quite confused “you?”

“yeah me…” he took a deep breath “because the men in the locker room know…”

“they know what?” you couldn’t understand what he was trying to say.

“that you’re my weakness…” he tried to avoid your look as you watched him with big eyes “you’re my weakness, i never felt like this and they know it…they know i have feelings for you but no one ever said anything…except for kevin, who thought that ruining your moment was okay…he did it because of me, he probably feels like shit knowing that he fucked you up but he got my reaction, he pissed me off and that was his goal” he exhaled once he was finished.

you stayed there, trying to assemble what roman just told you. he liked you, kevin used you to piss roman off and roman defended you, because, again, he had feelings for you.

“you have feelings for me?” you whispered, fearing that if you said it out loud it would have been fake.

“yes…”

“you, the roman reigns, the tribal chief, you have feelings for me?” you whispered again, making roman chuckle this time “am i dreaming? that’s the only possible explanation, i am dreaming…”

his strong voice chuckled again “i promise you that you’re more than awake…”

“why didn’t you say anything about it? we could have avoided a lot of silence conversations…” you asked.

“because i didn’t know, i still don’t know what the outcome of my confession is…i didn’t want to lose you and in all honesty i loved being in your silent comforting presence” he smiled, making you smile back.

you looked at him, trying to find any sign that he was lying but when you find none, you moved closer to rest your lips upon his bigger ones. it was a soft kiss, the both of you testing the waters.

“this would have been the outcome if you told me earlier…” you whispered against his lips, making him laugh.

the title opportunity long forgotten when roman gently moved you over his lap and deepened the kiss.

“i can’t believe you like me…” you whispered, too stunned to believe what just happened.

“i’ve been liking you since you joined the roster…i should have said something earlier…” he said softly while his hand softly stroked your cheek “but i’m glad i did it now…” he kissed you back feeling you smile against his lips.

after a couple of minutes of softly making out, you both got distracted by the twins knocking on roman’s door.

“not now” he said, a stern voice while you tried not to laugh.

“we just wanted to remind you of the interview…” jimmy voice said and you felt romantic scoffing, clearly annoyed to be doing that interview.

“i’ll be out in five” he screamed back and began to kiss you again when he felt the twins walking away from his locker room.

“as much as i love this, you have work to do…” you reminded him, getting an annoyed look by him.

moving back to sitting on the couch, you let roman getting ready as you admired him. he smirked feeling your look on him, especially when you tried to look away.

“i promise you, you’ll get your title opportunity back and no one will interfere this time, you have the bloodline protection, that’s a promise” he said, promising you.

of course you believed him - you knew how important he was in the game and he knew that if he asked hunter for a little favour, he wouldn’t say no.

“once i’m done with my interview, i’ll come back here and then we’ll finish what we started, back at my hotel” he smirked again before leaving the room.

you watched him leave, not being able to answer back. your mouth agape at the idea of spending even more time with roman - maybe, after all, it wasn’t a bad night.