#everyone is trying to convince everyone around them that everything is fine

[cosmopretty]

꣑୧ What happens when class 1A finds out about you— Katsuki Bakugo’s secret girlfriend that no one knew about

Today was the one day class 1A had the whole day off, not a single class all day since most of them passed the Hero License Exam. The class well mostly Mina and Uraraka planned a whole day trip to go to the mall and the park, mostly everyone was going besides the one and only Katsuki Bakugo.

Not only was he disappointed after he failed the test, but he hadn’t seen his girlfriend in weeks because of training. So today was his day off to spend with you and only you.

———

“Come on Bakubro the whole class is going it’s gonna be so manly” Kirishima exclaims his arm slinging around Bakugo’s shoulder, trying to convince the angry blonde to come with them today. Bakugo shoves him off growling something no one could understand under his breath.

The whole class watches as the explosive boy walks out the door to leave, slamming it on his way out. Kirishima scratches the back of his neck “Well guess we should leave soon guys” he says after a few seconds of awkward silence.

———

You stand waiting at the gates of UA for your boyfriend until a pair of arms circle around your waist “Hey” Bakugo grumbles his head falling to your neck.

A smile adorns your lips “Hi baby” you whisper moving your head to the right and kissing his cheek. He gets up slightly and starts leading you down the street his arm around your waist. You tilt you head looking up at him for a moment the fall breeze flowing around you both “Soooo where we going baby?” you ask him while admiring his features.

His eyes turn to look at you “I was thinking we could go to my house, the hag wants us over or something” he scoffs before continuing “We could watch some movies in my room, then go to the park I don’t know” he mumbles his eyes refusing to make eye contact with you.

The Katsuki Bakugo being romantic was not something you see everyday but it was sweet so you choose not to tease him about it. You smile turning away from him to watch some birds fly with one another “That sweet Suki, I’m excited I miss your mom” you tell him your eyes not looking at him but you feel how he squeezes you closer to him.

The walk to his house went by quickly and soon enough the two of you were eating lunch with his parents. Bakugo was being well Bakugo and arguing over everything with his mom, even going as far to argue over how spicy the food was. You couldn’t help yourself but laugh at the two of them it was like a copy paste of one another.

After lunch both you and Bakugo went up to his room to watch some new scary move that came out. That didn’t last long because your attention span was not strong enough to just focus on the movie in-front of you both.

Climbing on top of the blonde boy you straddle his waist blocking his view of the movie. Your hands come up to hold his shoulders “M bored Suki, entertain me” you whine your head falling into his neck leaving small light kisses all over. He groans his head falling back into the pillows to give you more access.

“Needy little thing aren’t you” he says his hands grabbing to hold your hips pulling you impossibly closer to him. You bite down on his neck lightly causing him to groan once more. The heat between your bodies grows as you kiss down his neck pulling down his shirt to reach more places in his neck.

His hand slides into your hair and pulls you back hard, but not enough to hurt you for real “Not the time baby, my parents are in the next room” he tells you slightly out of breathe.

You pout “Fine but that doesn’t mean I can’t kiss you” he scoffs at your words shaking his head. Before he can speak your lips are on his hungrily. He kisses back almost immediately his hands squeezing your hips, one gliding up your body to hold your neck. His lips fit yours perfectly like they were made just specifically for you.

The two of you made out for almost a hour just kissing each other, everywhere you could before getting tired. The two of you ended up falling asleep tired from the food, the movie and the neediness between you two..

Hours pass before Bakugo wakes up rubbing his eyes before looking down at you on his chest. He smiles, a real smile he doesn’t show people his hand coming to rub your back slowly waking you up from your slumber. He waited a few minutes patiently before getting tired of waiting and got up with you in his arms. Looking down at you for a moment he laughs throwing you down on the bed watching as you gasp landing down on your stomach.

“WHAT THE HELL?” You squeal staring wide eyed at the boy who was holding himself up by the wall laughing at you. Groaning you throw a pillow at him before getting up and fixing your clothes that you fell asleep in. Still laughing Bakugo throws your shoes towards you, catching them with a glare on your face you growl “Your mean ya know that Bakugo” his laughter stops immediately at the use of his last name coming out of your mouth.

Katsuki walks towards you slowly “The hell did you just call ya damn lazy nerd” he growls out at you. He stops right in front of you his arms crossed across his chest “Huh you gonna speak on you gone mute?” he snaps.

You look up at him “Sorry I ment bitch” you blurt out before your eyes widen. Before he can even comprehend what you just said you’re running out the door shoes in hand yelling a quirk bye to his parents before rushing out the door. He chases you, hot on your heel as you run towards the park near his house.

Bakugo jumps on you, taking you both to ground him on top of you “Think you can run away? I’m gonna be the number one hero you can’t out run me even in your dreams” he growls his faces inches away from you. Air catches in your throat as you breathe heavily looking up at your boyfriend with a smile on your face.

Grabbing his face with your hands you laugh “I love getting you all angry” you admit to him as he gets off you, holding out a hand to pull you up.

“Tch I could never be mad at you-“ his words stop as he sees his class sitting on benched staring at you two wide eyed, mouths agape.

You follow his eyes to see the class and you happily walk away from him to go rush up to Mins. She squeaks hugging your tightly “I MISSED YOU BOO” she yells spinning you around as Bakugo walks over confused to see you hugging some extra in his class.

Kirishima looks at the blonde smirking “So this is why you didn’t wanna hangout with us” he laughs as Denkis eyes nearly bulge out of his head “HOW THE HELL DID YOU PULL A GIRL THIS BEAUTIFUL” he shrieks. You pull away from Mina and walk towards your boyfriend to go hug his arm.

He looks at you then at Mina then back at you “Why the hell you hugging Pinky?” he asks jealousy bubbling in his chest. He didn’t want anyone but him to be touching you.

“Oh me and Mina met when I was waiting for you outside of school a while ago, she said I had pretty eyes and I liked her hair and we started to hangout and texting sometimes we became friends” You tell him happily as Mina nods her head “Don’t worry I didn’t tell anyone you guys were together- well the class all knows now anyways” she says giggling.

Bakugo groans and walks away going back home as you let go of his arm. You smile sheepishly at his classmates “Nice meeting you all hopefully I can again soon— bye Mina” you say smiling before turning spring and running to catch up with Katsuki.

The class all looks at the two of you leaving in shock, especially when Bakugo wraps his arm around your shoulders pulling you closer to him.

“That’s- how- are you kidding me! No far Bakugo gets a girl that nice and pretty and that body oh god that-“ Before Mineta can finish his sentence Mina slaps the back of his head “Shut up” she tells him.

The next day the entire class couldn’t stop talking about you.

Authors Note:

SO I POSTED THIS WAS A REQUEST AND I LOVED IT SO PLEASE SEND IN SOME MORE

[chestersbraincell]

Probably not the first one to draw this metaphor but I just like how this is a neat little detail pointing to Asgore’s character being that of shouldering most of the burdens of his people in order to keep them as happy as he can. Idk.

[icewindandboringhorror]

One of the interesting bits of trying to resume working on the game after so long is looking back at my ancient Draft Placeholder versions of an image from 4 yrs ago trying to remember what the hell I meant back then, to hopefully interpret it into some more final (ish..) form of the same thing .. making slow progress lol

[fandommothfreak]

I think Duke should be immortal in the "cannot die" sense and Jason should be immortal in the "cannot stay dead" sense and that they should keep this a secret from everyone including each other. And then they should both get caught in a situation that Absolutely Should Kill Them Instantly, miraculously not die, and then be like:

Like Jason shields Duke from some massive explosion or something, and Duke is horrified because he thinks Jason just pointlessly sacrificed himself for someone who would've been fine anyway - only for Jason to very casually come back from the dead, look at a completely unscathed Duke Thomas, and go, "Hey, what the fuck."

And Duke should look at a freshly revived Jason Todd and be like, "Me what the fuck? No you what the fuck."

And they end up both agreeing to not say a word about this to the rest of the Bats. Which poses issues. Because here you have a pair of unhinged vigilante siblings that do not fear death, that additionally now know they don't have to fear each other's deaths either, both unwilling to give anything less than everything they have to do what they think is right (and/or what they really, really want to).

So. Some things that happen in consequence:

Duke throws Jason off a fifty-story building in pursuit of some shoplifting rich asshole that was caught on camera insulting Duke's favorite metal band and being a classist fuck about it. This does, incidentally, re-traumatize Nightwing, who was ten feet away and not prepared to see his little brother yeeted off the side of a building, no grapple in sight - but it also traumatizes the shoplifter when Jason lands right in front of him, grotesquely knits himself back together, and rises from the ground in a distinctly horrifying fashion just to beat the shit out of him. So Duke takes the win.

Jason shoots Duke in the head to get him to stop shining light in his eyes in the middle of a gunfight. He does stop, but only because Batman shows up out of nowhere, and now Duke gets to pretend to be grievously injured while Batman yells at Jason about "self-control" and "maturity" and "putting teammates at risk." Meanwhile Duke is playing up this horrible concussion that he doesn't even have. Jason is seething. (Duke gets checked out at Leslie's. They convince her to lie for them by appealing to her inner petty bitch.)

Jason gets his payback a few months later by poisoning himself at an undercover op and subsequently forcing Duke to drag his dead body around a mob-owned nightclub for like half an hour trying to convince seasoned criminals that this brick shithouse of a man sprawled awkwardly across his back is just... really wasted. Totally not a corpse.

Both Jason and Duke get caught in many, many, many explosions after that initial reveal, and it's always terrifying for the rest of the Bats. It gets to a point where Batman refuses to partner Duke and Jason together for literally anything, because they always act fucking insane. Big metal vehicle moving hundreds of miles an hour towards an unsuspecting civilian? That's okay! Jason will just throw Duke in front if it. Unknown, volatile substance potentially being used by a notorious serial killer to murder his victims? No lab testing required! Duke will just pour a whole pint of the stuff on Jason's bare arm to see how it reacts. Bomb that can't be disarmed? Why wait for backup when these two psychopaths can just grab the thing and jump into the harbor? Like, genuinely. The stress. Bruce is one particularly traumatic incident away from actually considering therapy.

[kenyummy]

✰ 04. the ballad of a bygone blight.

✰ ꒰ ⍣'ˎ˗ platonic yandere batfam / spider! reader ꒱

✰ 04. fantastic four.

SYNOPSIS : being spidey isn't easy. being transported into an alternate universe where you're nothing but a shadow in your house, makes sneaking around a little easier... until you find yourself the apple of their eye... kind of.

note: had to wrack my brain to remember what math i was learning in seventh grade LMAO . sometimes i forget damian is just a little guy in like seventh to eighth grade. crazy. and please let me know if there's any mistakes with pronouns/gender!!! i want to keep this open to everybody so im always trying my best ❤️

also ive realised how chopped harry is in the comics after taking my rose coloured lenses off. basically he and mj have their look in the ultimate spiderman TV show (in my eyes anyway, i kind of just described their appearance based off tgat lmaooo)

prev. ✰ masterlist ✰ next.

School has never felt so bland for you. Sure, it was never your favourite thing in the world—except for maybe biology—but you'd think that discovering a whole new world in your last year would make it a little more interesting.

It didn't.

It's been three weeks since you crash landed here in Gotham. The most you'd gotten from your family was an awkward "how are you" occasionally, and a lot of staring.

You'd only shown yourself as Spidey a few times to the public, but never stayed for those pesky news reporters shoving their microphones into your face. You'd never liked interviews, anyway.

The only highlight of your long days were MJ and Harry. You'd gotten over the initial shock of Harry being in love with you—convincing yourself that it really wasn't you he liked; it was this world's original you. (Though—that fact still lingers in the back of your mind whenever you talk).

Apart from that, school truly was uneventful. Your kooky art teacher was the only one of whom you actually liked, and it seemed the education here was rather lax. Uncaring. Not good for your future, surely—but you wouldn't have a future here, and you're sure this [name] Wayne will be just fine.

Speaking of schooling—the people here really seemed to hate the Gotham Prep kids. More than what a petty rivalry should be—it was pure malice.

Harry was especially adamant about this.

"They're all dumb, entitled rich kids who use daddy's money to get whatever they want, you know." He stabs his fork into a dry cut of chicken violently. Then points, accusatory, at MJ—who already presents a sneer to him. "And don't you start lumping me in with them—you know I'm not like that."

Her face twists, but soon she grins cheekily. "Okay, fine. Yeah, you're totally not, otherwise nobody here would like you one bit. And who doesn't love Harry, huh?"

"Oh, be quiet," But still, he smiles—damn his head is big. He glances over at you. You're picking around at your soggy broccoli with a frown. "Hey, [name]. Don't two of your brothers go to Gotham Prep?"

You look up at your ginger friend, head tilted to the side before it clicked. Oh, right. Tim and that young boy—Damian, if you remember correctly. Tim barely ever went to school if your diary was still accurate, and Damian had little choice but to.

(Doesn't seem like he'd be the social butterfly type, though.)

"Yeah, they do." You nod, still fiddling around with that vegetable.

"Not that I'm not glad that you're here—but why don't you go to school with them?" MJ leans forward in her seat. "I mean, isn't it easier for siblings to go to the same school?"

Your eyes widen for a second.

There's a few ways you can go about this.

One—you tell them everything you know about your other self. About how you never felt included enough to ask. How you never spent time with them. How it always felt like everything and everyone else was more important than you. How you suffered silently—begging for their attention for years like a house pet becoming a stray.

Two—you could tell them you have absolutely no idea because you have none of your memories of anything from the past years of this life—how you don't even remember all your siblings names half the time.

Or three, and your personal favourite—you can just lie.

It doesn't take a serial genius to figure out which one you chose.

"I guess I just didn't like the rich private school vibe they had going on." A smile falls over your lips. "Plus—you guys were coming here, so it gave me even more of a reason to attend, you know?"

You're not entirely sure that's true. But—if these two were anything like the Harry and MJ you know—then this would probably be right.

Judging from their smiles, your detective skills haven't failed you yet.

"Man!" MJ lolls her head back, groaning. "Can't believe I'm friends with two rich kids who get to choose which school they want—the beat down public or sleek rich private."

"Don't go dissing this school just because you're jealous of their uniforms," Harry snickers, pressing his index finger into MJ's cheek. She huffs and slaps him away.

"Silence, nepo baby. Your dad is basically Lex Luthor if he wasn't bald."

Harry looks more confused than offended at her comment, "Okay, but my dad isn't an evil mastermind plotting against a red and blue suited superhero."

You press your lips together thinly and look to the side, eyes focused on anything but him. Oh, Harry—if only you knew.

Damian Wayne had never truly seen the point of highschool.

Raised by assassains all his life—he had little room, time, and desire to learn about all this nonsense. While he enjoyed arts and fine literature—he couldn't find it within himself to care about the American Revolution, or whatever other ridiculous thing happened in history.

His maths teacher was absolutely, indubitably pathetic. Always on his phone as he assigns mountains of homework (because he never bothers to explain the complex materials they're given) on the latest subject—whether it be those blasted simultaneous equations, or to factorise useless monic trinomials. Even calculating tax and interest on the stupidest of cases.

Damian found himself sitting in the corner of his class in silence, staring down, bored, at the book in front of him. He truly hated math. There's so much real work to be done—crime to fight, plotting organisations to take down.

But his father, as always, is unmoving in his conviction that school is important. For Damian especially, anyway; Drake can skip as often as he likes because he's a senior already. Truly, ridiculous.

For Damian, and—oh.

You.

Bruce always seemed especially insistent on you two going to school. Even when everyone but him knew you skipped every few days and simply come home to wait.

Wait for what? For them?

His brows furrow. Suddenly, the black and white equations on the sheet blur and he zones out. Thinking.

You always did. From the day he'd walked into the manor, you were always there. Unconsciously, he'd notice it. A trait of a good assassin is that they can spot everyone in the room.

A trait of a great assassin is that they can spot everyone inside and watching.

Always, you were watching. Those pitiful stares. Desperate like a unloved pet. If he cared a little more (if any at all), he would've felt sorrow for your state.

Always wanting, but never asking. Never taking. Simply waiting for it all to come to you. He would never understand it. He would never understand you.

He would never understand how somebody could allow themselves to be so weak.

Like everybody else—when he first entered the manor, he proposed to fight you. Assuming—being the child of his father, like he was—you were worthy. That you were strong.

He doesn't know how he could've been so wrong. You immediantly reacted, gasping and clutching your face. He'd nicked it with the edge of his blade after he unsheathed it. You looked at the blood dotting your fingertips, then back at him, eyes wide.

Immediantly, Bruce rushed to his side and pushed him behind his larger, imposing figure—telling you to not interact with him because he's different to regular people. Different to you.

He watched you storm off from behind his father's legs; anger practically blaring off your figure.

Later—he happened to overhear you and Grayson talking quietly. Telling you to not be too hard on Damian, because he's troubled. That he's had a difficult life. At first—he was a tad offended—but that offence could not compare to the absolute fury burning in your eyes.

Though, it all melted away when Grayson's hand ruffled your hair. Like a little kid, you stared up at him, soft and starry-eyed as you unconsciously murmured you'd forgive your new little brother.

Damian dry-heaved. You were so goddamn weak.

So weak, and so normal. Everything you did was completely regular. You were on the same wavelength as the civilians he saved from burning rubble. The same as people who walked down the street, talking about their favourite Justice League member. Who cowered in fear in front of villains—to be saved by those heroes. By him.

You were nothing, and yet everything he could never have been.

(What child does not long for normalcy?)

Damian always thought you were rather helpless, regardless of how regular you were—and seeing you with that bullet lodged in your shoulder—he was right. Not being able to dodge something like a bullet—there was no wonder you never become a vigilante. There was no wonder you needed to be protected.

... Though—he began to think back.

Who did? Protect you; that is.

Whoever it was, they did a pretty awful job at it.

Damian strums his fingers against the hardwood table rhythmically. Face blank but mind running rapidly.

It couldn't have been Todd. No—he seemed to be in a frazzled state of mania when carrying your bleeding body in your arms. Perhaps he too, believed you were safe with the rest of his family.

(Oh how wrong Todd was—he looked livid.)

... Grayson?

No. When he's not in Blüdhaven, he is almost always with the other vigilantes within the family. Not here nor there, and certainly not close enough to protect you.

Not Drake. He never cared enough, despite everything. Not Cain, either. Though the silent protector type—she had too much on her plate to worry about you as well.

Gordon and Brown had their own families to worry about.

And his—your father? The Batman? There was no time for a regular child like you in the Batman's life of vigilantism. Whom he sworn to protect in his crusade now lay bleeding out in his great failure's arms.

...

Did you truly have nobody?

...

Damian couldn't really imagine it. He'd always assumed you had many friends to fill the void that yoir family left with their civilian clothes. ... Perhaps you did. He wouldn't know.

You are his only half sibling. In this world, only he is truly your brother, and you are his only older sibling. Does that not give him the slightest of responsibility?

He'd always been taught to keep everybody at arms length—even his own family. The whole world is out to get the Demon's grandson, then he must fight it. But his father taught him differently.

To protect those who cannot protect themselves—to keep those he cares about safe at any cost.

What of you? He does not care for you in the way an ordinary sibling should. Seeing you so weak, defenceless against him—must mean you trust him in some way.

(It's hard for him to fathom being able to feel so unprotected in a world he was taught was trying to extinguish him at every turn).

Regardless of how you don't belong—or how frosty you act toward your youngest brother—he has a duty.

No matter how hard you try—you can never sever the blood you two share. The others do not have this duty—but he does, because in the end, you are his. None of the others bothered, so Damian must.

You are everything he could never be, he has realised. But in the end, you are blood. It runs thicker in the veins than any water, and that is one of the most important things to Damian.

Seeing that same blood—his blood—spill out of you carelessly—that is a sight he will never bear witness to again.

Damian was the first one out the door as soon as the bell chimed in his ear. His bag slung tightly around his shoulders and textbook under his arm; he rushed into the familiar sight of a sleek, large car.

He shuts the door as he climbs into the backseat (Bruce said he was still too short to sit in the front, much to his son's displeasure). "Hello, Pennyworth."

Alfred glances back at him through the rear view mirror. "Good afternoon, Master Damian. How was school?"

"Same as usual. A waste of time." He clicks his seatbelt shut as the car begins to move. Alfred only hums, keeping his eyes trained on the road.

"I'm unsurprised to hear you say so. I do hope you understand why exactly, you are enrolled in school, however. And why Master Bruce is so adamant about your attendance."

Damian knows. He's always known, because it has been drilled into his head like a mantra. Talia and Ra's Al Ghul weren't math teachers—and most of his time really was spent training and sparring to be the best he could be.

He was not illiterate, nor stupid. Rather smart, actually. However, he didn't exactly learn algebra and chemistry with the League of Assassins.

He grumbles. "I know, Pennyworth. Father cannot seem to stop reminding me that all these things are far more important than stopping the endless wave of crime in Gotham."

If he weren't on the road—Alfred surely would've given him a nasty look. "Master Damian, please—your sincerity is positively slaughtering me."

Damian rolls his eyes, opting to stop this fruitless conversation and look outside the windows instead. At the outside world—the sky already paling to deep auburn shades as they drive through the endless roads.

He watched all the cars moving past; hurrying to get to their destination. Each with their own story and reason for being there. Every single one with their own thoughts and worries. Some with children, others with pets, and some with piles of groceries.

All with their own, individual lives. Including him.

A bus, too. It stops for a moment at a sheltered space, then drives away, leaving a few people standing under the shade.

An elderly lady with a man, presumably her son, walking away with her. A woman with frizzy red hair and freckles dotted over her nose. A few schoolkids—some his age, some older. Clearly from the public school on the other side of Gotham, if only to judge from the scantily clad clothes some of the older students wore—

Wait, is that you?

He sits up—the car slowly coming to a stop at a red light. His eyes don't leave your figure as he presses his nose against the window; observing.

You look around at the people that pass by you—gripping your bag close to your side and rushing into the nearest alleyway.

He waits for a few moments. This red light feels rather long—but what feels longer is watching and waiting for you to come out of that alleyway.

You never do.

Even as the car begins to move once more, driving past the intersection, he crawls as far back as possible to even get a glimpse—but you never show.

Just today, he had decided to be the one to take up the mantle and protect you. Just today, during a boring math class, he has decided that since you are his blood, he must keep a helpless civilian like you safe.

And now you're gone. Are you dead, or something?

(Deep down, his stomach twists at the thought.)

"Pennyworth, pull over." Hid voice is more taut than he had imagined. "Now."

Alfred looks back, glancing at the streets around. He doesn't question the young boy, simply doing as he is asked and pulling over to a deserted parking area.

When he has parked the car, he turns around and sees Damian slipping his Robin mask on—somehow already fully suited up.

His eyes widen, "Master Damian, what—"

"I have something to do. Let Father know I will be back home late."

Opening the door, Damian rushes out and pulls out his grappling hook, swinging onto the nearest building's roof and looking around.

He spots the alleyway you'd run into. It is still. Absolutely no movement nor any looks from passer-bys. He rushes across the roves towards where the dark side seeped into the crack of the buildings.

Maybe you'd taken another way out?

But looking at the alleyway now, it's more like a dip between the buildings to stand in more than anything. It was blocked off on the other side.

So where...???

He drops down, landing on his soles and squinting as he stares around into the dark. There's nothing.

No people, nor bodies, and certainly not anything to indicate anybody was ever here.

Except...

He glances at the wall. Theres a white cocoon-esque oval webbed to the wall. Those same webs he'd seen all that time ago—from that spider. That would show up then leave immediantly. Never staying for longer than they had to.

Dodging all of his and Batman's attempts at asking who you were, and what you were doing in Gotham. Always swinging away into the distance before they could be subdued.

Now, he stares at their ball of webbing and wonders if it truly is an arachnid he's dealing with.

He pokes it, looking it up and down. Then, he sees it. Through the small holes in the webs and the translucent, silk-like material—he finally sees it.

Your bag.

He tears off the webbing faster than he can think, getting the sticky substance stuck to his gloves and clothes; he barely even notices it. He grabs your bag and stares it, swallowing hard.

His mind buzzes with an unfamiliar staticky feeling and he suddenly feels sick to his stomach. Despite all the noise in his ear—his brain is able to comprehend one singular question.

... What did that arachnid do to you?

Clothed fingers digging deep into the leather fabric of the bag—clearly worn down and fading. Old. He would get Father to purchase you another. ... When he sees you next. Because he will.

His jaw clenches hard.

Damian throws the bag over his shoulder and grapples up—swinging onto a building roof and running across.

Running for what, he isn't sure. But what he is sure of, is that once he gets his hands on that arachnid, it will not be kind.

To find out what happened to you—that is his duty as your blood sibling.

He decides that in this life, he will be your protector. In the next, if he is ever given a chance to be normal like you—he will become a doctor. Or perhaps a painter. Or a poet. Maybe he will ask you to help him decide when he finds you and that arachnid.

... Yes, that sounds good.

You cut through the cool wind as you swing through the city. Grinning widely underneath your mask—you don't think you've ever been so happy since you landed here.

You're sure nobody will take your stuff. Even if they do, you could always just get whatever else you needed again. You were far too excited to dwell on the small stuff right about now.

Landing on a rooftop, crouched—you walk down the wall of the apartment complex, and look around for civilians. As he told you—the streets around the back of the building were practically deserted.

You count the amount of rooms from the side, up and down.

"Row 5, Apartment block... 2..." You hum, and nod to yourself.

You tap your necklace and the nanobots all crawl off your body, leaving you in your regular clothes. You land safely on the balcony of the room you were given.

You smooth out your flared jeans and take in a deep breath. Then, you bring up your knuckles, and knock.

The glass screen door opens before you can say fantastic.

A small pair of arms wrap around your torso and knock you backwards—you fall on your ass and let out a loud laugh.

"Spidey!!! [name]!!!"

"Is that who I think it is?!" You tease, eyes squinted upwards and the young kid buries into your stomach. His giggles are muffled by the fabric and he squeezes you so tight you'd be inclined to choke—if it wasn't you. "Frankie!! How's my favourite Richard?"

"I can't believe you'd say that, [name]. That hurts." A familiarly sweet voice speaks.

"Sue!" You grin, taking in the sight of the blonde and her husband by her side. You get up—Franklin stumbles behind you—and crash into her arms.

She chuckles, patting your back and smiling down at you, "I missed you too, [name]. You always manage to find yourself in the strangest situations, don't you?"

Reed cradles his chin, "Well, we were technically the cause of this distortion in reality, Susan—"

But seeing the expression on both your and his wife's face; he stops himself. Only smiling sheepishly. "My apologies. It's great to see you again, [name]. I didn't think we'd find another familiar face in a different universe."

"You're getting better at this, Reed." You lift yourself from Sue's comforting cradle and grin brightly up at him. "I didn't think I'd see all of you guys again, either. When you all disappeared for so long—I was wondering if something bad happened."

"Hah! Ta us? You kiddin'? Ya more bug-brained 'den that spider that bit ya!"

"Ben!!!" You go flying toward the rock-encased man and wrap your arms around his comfortingly tough neck. He spins you around and lets you down with a loud laugh.

"'Ey kid, how're ya? Heard ya tackled ol' matchstick 'ere outta the sky!" He slaps his rocky chest laughing—in the corner of your eye, Johnny stands behind him, unimpressed.

He walks up beside you, swinging an arm around your neck and snarks, "Yeah—well, Spidey's always been known for catching people off guard, huh? Creepin' up when you least expect it."

"You're making [name] sound like a villain, Unc!" Frankin, who had found himself attached to the side of your shirt, sticks out his tongue.

Johnny recoils, face falling in pure horror as he dramatically points at the young boy, "UNC??!! I... I'm an Unc now...??? I'm not even 19! I can't be an Unc!!!"

You burst out into laughter at the genuineness of Johnny's expression, watching as he freaks out about being "old". Sue and Reed roll their eyes—while Ben is there with you, laughing his ass off like he'd just gotten a home run on Yancy Street.

Franklin looks at your laughing expression and starts giggling along—jumping up and down beside you with sparkling eyes.

"Stop laughing, [name]! We're the same age!" Johnny points, accusatory. "If I'm an Unc, you're a...!"

"Doesn't matter. I'm cooler than Uncle Johnny anyways, right Frankie?" You grin, picking up Franklin as he cuddles into your neck.

"Mhm!" He nods eagerly.

Johnny sends you a blazing glare, lips pouted out. "You and me. We're—" He gestures to the two of you. "—gonna have some issues, here. Okay. Everyone knows I'm the cool Uncle."

"No, that's Benny!" Franklin points to Ben.

The look on Johnny's face shifts into utter disbelief—Ben falls out of his chair laughing wildly.

"Gosh, I missed you so much, kid." You pull at one of Franklin's cheeks and chuckle. He stares at you in awe for a few seconds, before hugging the side of your head and giggling.

"I missed you too!"

That same warmth fills each crevice and pore of your body, as you huddle close to your dear friends and let yourself feel at home for this small moment.

Meanwhile, in the dark of night, a pair of azure eyes watches, sharp and unnerving in the back of your skull.

You notice it. Of course you do. Your mind is tingling with that buzz—but you want to enjoy this night of nothing but home, even if only once.

taglist: @hello-bina @cosmosluckycharms @1abi @yhin-gg @insideoutjulie @bluepanda08 @omnivirgo @vanessa-boo @dind1n @welpthisisboring @lunaetiicsaystuff @marsmabe @atanukileaf @findingjaxx @4mrplumi @bunniotomia @lostsomewhereinthegarden @bat1212 @gaychaosgremlin @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @randomlyappearingartist @cxcilla @spidermanluvr444 @cruzerforce4256 @mybones537 @xjesterxjacksx @nirvanaxx1942 @djpuppy-kittens @br33zy-blizzardz @moon0goddess @0sunnyside01 @mei-simp @redsakura101 @the-dumber-scaramouche @wizzerreblogs @lovemiss-vale @deathbynarcisstick @allycat4458 @wonmyheart @luckyangelballoon @one-piecelover @hartwyrm @horror-lover-69 @maria-trisha @4rachn3 @galaxypurplerose @duskeras @coffeeaddictxd @lithiumval @kaz-playz

tsglist is closed, sorry! but do try and keep up with updates thank you!!!

[pythonmoth]

cw: post-traumatic stress disorder. paranoia. anxiety. panic. overthinking. reader is traumatized and unreliable. explicit suicidal thoughts. mentioned depersonalization. the voices. jealous simon. kissing the homies pt2. author was angry while writing.

simon x f!reader. poly tf141. father figure price.

text is heavily styled to show reader's panic. if it's difficult to read, I can share the normal version tomorrow. ♡

First | Last | Next

Slow.

That's the only way you can describe how the progress has been for you.

Ever since you fell asleep with Simon on a call, you've been feeling so calm. It's like all the problems disappeared. Your therapist is confused, but glad to see you all happy and content, like never before. Your appetite has come back, your nails have been growing nicely. You give yourself a chance to try on comfortable shoes, a little hesitant to make your toenails hurt, but you can actually walk with them now. They're still a little sensitive, but you're running your errands on your own now. No need to be dependant anymore.

To feel like yourself again has given you so much comfort that you find yourself texting the team properly. Even Gaz has been taking your calls when he's available, which has been great for your mental health, and your heart. Price has been mostly quiet, but you're not surprised, as he's always busy; he mostly just shares updates on missions, like Simon. Johnny has been incredibly funny on the phone, sharing silly things and your mutual hatred towards a new movie has been helping you bond again.

Simon, however...

"Hey, I'm serious! Don't you dare using that fucking tea bag!" Simon grunts from the phone.

You turn to him, laughing as you see him frowning. Simon's unmasked face covers your phone screen, his distaste for the cheap tea bags completely clear. His eyebrows are furrowed together, his mouth curled in a little disgusted snarl. You can only grin, mocking him, lazily patting your hands dry on your pants.

"I've no energy to prepare anything else!" you sigh, dropping the tea bag on the mug, getting closer to the phone to turn the volume up.

Your phone is fighting for it's life resting against a little cookie jar on the isle, your hands still a little damp from doing the dishes.

"Well, if you didn't try to do everything at once, you would" Simon voice retorts. His forehead is covering nearly half of your screen, making it hard to take him seriously.

"I can perfectly do multiple things at the same time".

"The stove".

You turn around to see the stove still on. With a grimace, you turn it off, ignoring his little chuckle as you reach out for your tea and your phone, walking over to the living room. The couch is cozy and fluffy, making you sink into it as if it were a cloud. You drag a blanket over your legs as you smile at the screen, staring at Simon.

"Whatever. Now, what did you have for dinner?"

Ever since that night, this has been your new normal. He has time off, you have a videocall. Really, it's a win-win situation, and it makes you happy, so that's fine. He tells you all about everyone, he tells you about how much he misses you and how much he wants to see you. It makes you smile, genuinely so.

The therapist isn't convinced you're okay yet. She says you're still jumpy, still flinch around people, and she even said you're hyper vigilant. But there's nothing wrong with being precautious, so you don't understand how that's a bad thing. However, you can admit it's a little hard to do things with your hands. It's not that you can't use your hands, because you can, but it makes you feel as if you were in a simulation, as if you were part of a game and you're the point of view for someone else.

Perhaps you should've kept that to yourself.

That's probably why the therapist refuses to allow you to go back. She probably thinks you're crazy, when it happens to everyone. She just doesn't understand.

It's no matter, because they're coming.

Price told you a few days ago that they're finally free, and will be having a few months off unless they're strictly needed. It's been nine months since you last saw them in person, so it makes you feel excited, content!

Tomorrow. They're coming tomorrow.

The best part is that you don't even need to ask what they feel like eating. You know them well enough to know just how much they love meat, so you just have to go out and buy everything.

The air is a more than chilly now, your birthday month coming right up, so you decide to put on your favorite jacket and take your car keys. The drive to the store is calm, the music absolutely blasting your ears, though, your enthusiasm sky high with how much you've missed them these past few months. It makes you giddy, to welcome them, to see them again.

Your therapist has been helping you to identify your emotions, helping you to understand how you are genuinely feeling. And having them over... it makes you a little anxious. Only because you haven't gotten any visitors outside your family and friends, really. Of course you want them there, it's just gonna be new.

In just a few minutes, your car if parked and locked at least five times just to make sure, canva tote bags in hand and then you're walking in the store. You're always making sure to come at a time when there's less people, and you're glad it's keeping up the same. Headphones over your ears, music gently playing on then, you move with practiced ease.

Meat. Vegetables. Pasta.

Meat. Fruit. Meat.

And meat.

They would die if you gave them anything but meat, truly.

You smile to yourself as you carry your things back to your car, your headphones now curled around your neck so you can pay attention to your surroundings, your eyes slyly looking around, turning smoothly whenever you feel someone is looking at you from your back. Your eyes wide open, you fill your car with the groceries, quickly closing it once you're done.

Just for precaution, you look around again before looking inside your car, and as soon as you open the door, you're inside and lo ck in g the car.

Just precaution.

It's dangerous out the re.

You're home the rest of the day, preparing the meals you'll be giving them tomorrow morning. Price did say they'll be arriving at 2pm, so you make sure everything is perfect before going to bed.

That night, you sleep with Simon's breathing next to your ear again, your heart pounding in your chest. The an xie ty keeps on growing, but you're sure it's just giddiness. Really, you're just too excited you can't wait.

The next morning, you almost don't want to get up. The woodpeckers are going crazy with the tree just outside your window, the sunlight hitting your face perfectly from between the curtains and it feels peaceful. Your bed is empty, except for your pillows —and a big plushie of a dragon Johnny got for you a few years ago—, and it's so, so warm you just don't want to get up.

With a sigh, you stand up and quickly get ready to welcome the day, and your friends. You're thankful you made sure everything was ready the day before, because just as you're done blow drying your hair, there's a firm knock on your door.

Surprised, you turn to look at the clock. You didn't even realize you spent so long just staring at yourself in silence. You lost so many hours, when you could've been doing something else!

"Coming!" you yell from your room, jumping down the stairs to the kitchen and turning the stove on.

When everything is already getting heated up, you stand in front of the door, your body suddenly frozen. You're sweating, your heart slowing and then racing in your chest as if it couldn't choose what to do. Your throat is closing up.

You can't move.

Don't open the door.

Run.

Why?

What is happening?

Run.

Another knock makes you snap out of it, but your hands are still shaky as you finally open the door. Your shoulders relax as your eyes fall on Gaz, strong arms instantly wrapping around your middle as Price, right behind him, presses the door against the wall so they can all get in.

Gaz lifts you just enough to make room for the rest.

"Hey, sweetheart. Looking good" Gaz says, beaming, pressing a soft kiss to your cheekbones before letting go of you.

However, you're instantly shutting off again. You don't understand why your legs feel like jelly, why your healed fingernails are throbbing. You don't understand at all why the sudden urge to run, far, far away.

Leave.

Price grins down at you, patting your head and gently gripping your shoulder before side stepping you. "Thank you for having us, kid".

When you look up at Johnny, he's grinning down at you, but you can see the way he quickly catches on your reaction, the way your forehead is covered in sweat, and the way your lips are pursed.

Danger.

"It's good to see you" Johnny says gently, nodding down at you and moving past you very carefully, trying not to touch you.

It feels odd. It feels incredibly off. And there's something weird in the air.

Your stomach is twisting and churning. It's confusing. It's weird. Sulfur? Acid?

Fully focused on trying to understand what happening to you, you're suddenly aware that the burning smell you can perceive is coming from your deep in your stomach.

Fear? Pain? Panic?

Your throat is so closed up you can barely breathe. The fear is making your sight turn a little blurry, your breathing shaky.

Bile. You want to throw up.

When you look up at Simon, your hands clench on your sides, swallowing thickly. It feels so, so wrong to look at him like this, especially when you two are supposed to be okay again, but for some reason, you can't handle looking at him. It's making you feel... off. Odd.

You give him a tight smile and a nod, the giddiness turning ice cold in your stomach.

You bring your hand to your mouth, nibbling on your fingernails.

As soon as they're all inside, door closed behind them, Simon takes his mask off, his eyes fixed on you, frowning.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah. I'm okay. Yeah, come on" you reply, maybe a little too quickly, but you don't give him, or any of them, a moment to think about it as you move to the kitchen.

You check on everything by the stove as Johnny fills glasses with wine. It's too early for wine, but with your teeth destroying the growing fingernail on your thumb... you don't really care right now.

"It smells amazing" Price comments, inhaling deeply. He's sitting at the head of the table, looking ready to sink his teeth in anything. If he's oblivious to the tension in your shoulders, or if he's choosing to ignore it, you can't tell. "This is what having a wife at home feels like. All we're missing is a little one".

That manages to make you smile slightly, your shaky hands relaxing at the friendly tone. You reach out to mix the pots, turning to look at him.

"The only little one any of you will be seeing from me is my knee on your balls. Now, be useful and set the table" you grunt. Price raises his hands in surrender and pats Simon's shoulder so they can do as you asked.

It's not the first time they've come, anyway, so they don't have to ask you where you keep things. Johnny stays by the table, claiming he already poured the wine, but he ends up helping Simon and Price with the plates anyway.

Gaz leaves the table to stand right next to you, suddenly smacking the hand on your mouth firmly.

"Stop that shit" he whispers angrily. He's quiet, even gentle with it, so rest don't hear.

"Sorry. I'm... feeling weird" you mumble, forcing yourself to stop.

"Go sit. I've got this" he hums, nudging you with his shoulder until you let go.

You make sure to sit by the isle, just because that ridiculous anxious feeling isn't getting any smaller. If anything, you can jump and cover yourself with the isle, so this place is fine.

As Gaz serves for everyone and they start sitting down again, you nearly jump off the chair when you realize Simon's sitting next to you, instead of where he was sitting on the opposite side of the table.

"Hey, that's my chair. Go sit over there".

You look up to see Simon glare at Gaz, the two of them staring each other down, a silent conversation between the two of them. In the end, Simon simply let's go of the chair and sits away from you again. It helps you relax, but you keep quiet, reaching out to grab your glass of wine.

"Really, though. If you had a kid running around..." Price starts again, his mouth filled with food.

"Back off" Johnny complains, nudging Price still. Price rolls his eyes, waving a dismissive hand. "What a prick".

Simon, however, can't look away from you, paying attention to all of your movements, the way you lean on Gaz, the way you barely seem to be listening.

"If she's marrying anyone here, that's me" Gaz says, suddenly wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "Y'all stand no chance".

It makes you relax, but only a moment, feeling suffocated by their eyes on you, especially with the way Simon's gripping his fork. You hit Gaz on the ribs with your elbow, only to make him let go. He grins, his eyes gentle. You know he doesn't mean it like that, but it's making you uncomfortable again.

"Oi, watch your—" Simon starts, his eye twitching.

"Not playing house by choice, I've been forced to. I'm pretty sure we don't wanna talk about it, so eat up and shut the fuck up" you snap, your tone just shy from screaming at them.

That makes Price's teasing smile die, nodding solemnly, and finally shutting up. You refuse to look at the way Simon and Johnny's faces drop, both of them staring at their plates, suddenly feeling no appetite.

It's an awkward meal, everybody afraid to make a single noise. You can hear the way Simon's munching on the vegetables, you can hear Price's breathing slowing down just the way he does when he's on a mission, and Johnny... he's only mixing his food together, stabbing an innocent carrot.

After a while, when nobody's chewing and nobody even dares breathing, Gaz breaks the silence.

"So..."

The rest turn to him.

Gaz grins.

A movie.

The sun is still high up, but Garrick suggested to watch a movie, and you said yes. In a heartbeat. Really, Simon shouldn't complain if he gets to see you for a little longer. Whatever that means, anyway, because you don't want him near you at all. Fuck, you didn't even let him sit next to you.

All these months, he thought he'd been helping you, he thought therapy was going well, because during the constant videocalls you've been cheerful, your old self. You smiled at him, you laughed. He had made you laugh at his fucked up jokes again.

But this?

Johnny went with Price to buy crisps, soda, more drinks, and sour candies for you. Those two bastards really couldn't handle a single comment and bolted immediately. Pair of cowards. Simon wasn't stupid, he had seen the way Johnny nearly burst into tears, the way Price's jaw clenched, felt his own heart break inside his chest, but he has to sit here and take it. Because he wasn't a coward.

And this?

You're leaning on Garrick. Heavily.

Simon eyes the way Garrick interlocks your hands together, checking on your fingernails. His eye twitches as he hears you talk, both of you fully focused on each other, as if he wasn't there. It's not that that's a new concept for him, he often only talked so much.

But this?

His heart pounds in his chest when Garrick grips your jaw with a hand, kissing your cheek loudly after you pout at him.

It makes you smile.

That's it, he thinks. I'm getting up and I'm beating him up. Who the fuck does he think he is? Stealing my girlfriend right in front of me.

In the end, he only shifts, his face betraying nothing, looking down at his beer, hoping the other cowards arrive soon so he doesn't have to see the way he keeps losing you.

Losing you, all over again. Over a fucked up mistake, for following an order. And the worst part is that he genuinely gets it. Garrick is the only one who didn't hurt you, of course you're okay with his touch and not the rest.

Fucking hell. He wants to stab himself in the gut to end his misery.

But no.

He did that.

There's no changing it.

Simon looks up at the two of you.

His anger dissipates when he hears your soft laugh, Garrick's hand on the back of your neck, keeping you steady as he pokes your side, clearly sharing a silly moment. Simon grimaces and turns away again, sipping his beer.

It takes Price and Johnny half an hour to come back, and Simon couldn't be happier to see them.

With the snacks covering the coffee table and their laps, Simon genuinely tries to ignore the fact that you're still pressed against Garrick's side, happily munching on your sour candy. Johnny's sitting on the floor right between his legs, occasionally feeding him orange gummy bears or crisps. Price, between Garrick and himself, is staring at the movie, seemingly content with sipping on his beer, and stealing some of Simon's gummy bears.

Every time he hears your low laugh, Garrick's hands on you, Simon wants to die. He grips Johnny's shoulder, his nails digging slightly into his skin, trying his best to pay attention to the movie, but he isn't able to understand what it is about. He doesn't know what's happened in front of him for the past hour. He knows how many times Garrick's lips were pressed to your cheek. He knows how many times you laughed with Garrick. He knows how many times you've shifted, closer and closer to Garrick.

He can't do anything but dwell on his own regret, on his anger. His pain.

He doesn't blame you, he doesn't blame Garrick. Hell, he doesn't even blame Price, or Johnny, or anybody else. Just himself.

He could've done this so much better, but there's not much he can do. He needs to be alone with you so he can talk properly, apologize again, but every time he looks at you, even without the mask, you flinch. It doesn't matter how hard you try to hide it, he can see it.

Johnny gets up, snapping him out of his thoughts. He sees him take the empty plate, walking towards the kitchen.

Not even a minute later, Johnny's cursing and there's a shattering sound echoing on the house. Simon stands up, moving to go check on Johnny, but he freezes when you stand up abruptly, your face in complete shock as you walk away, your arm bumping onto the walls as you rush away.

He's torn for a whole second too long, thinking if he should follow you or check on Johnny first, and that's enough for Garrick to beat him to it. Simon can only stare at Garrick follows after you, sprinting.

After a moment of hesitation, he walks over to Johnny. Simon finds him picking up the shattered plate, grimacing when he sees someone walking in.

"Ah, it's you. I tripped" Johnny grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You hurt yourself".

"Just a tiny cut, 's nothing. Where did she go?" Johnny questions, bringing his thumb to his mouth, sucking a little on the blood.

"I don't know. Practically bolted when you dropped the plate".

Johnny stares at him, blinking. "And what are you doing here? I must've scared her" he sighs, standing up. "Where to?"

"Garrick already went after her".

"So?"

"They're getting along. A lot".

Johnny blinks again.

Smack.

"What the fuck? What was that for now?" Simon growls out, rubbing his head. Johnny shakes his head, still expecting an answer. Simon sighs. "Over there. Come on".

Simon guides Johnny, their feet barely making any noise, used to being quiet and, also, because they don't want to spook you any longer. He finally spots you, the door of the guest bedroom ajar.

He freezes.

Johnny's hand grips his arm, his whispered curse falling on deaf ears.

Simon stands there in complete silence, his blood, and stomach, and his heart and his brain falling to his feet as he can only stare.

Your cheeks are wet with tears but it's barely visible because Garrick's hands are covering them, his lips on yours.

It looks peaceful.

And Simon wants to die all over again.

Johnny quietly shuffles away, but Simon can't look away. Not now.

Garrick pulls away and kisses your cheek, then your forehead, then grips your nose, making you huff, a small smile on your lips. He's grinning, rolling his eyes, as if that kiss didn't just happen.

Simon isn't breathing. He's not even sure he's here anymore. Perhaps he did die, and this is his personal hell.

Must be.

-ˋˏ✄——————————————————

chingue a su madre emilia pérez y todos los involucrados. I was pissed writing this and I wanted chaos.

anyway, so there's that ♡ thank you so much for reading!!!

taglist: @euphoricn @lilg101010 @enfppuff @carolchaotic @silas-fanfic-favs @nina-from-317 @an-ever-angry-bi @kittygonap @dorothy-rainbird-deactivated202 @adventurerabby @defronix @sheepispink @iambuttwodaysold @blackhawkfanatic @malevolentghoul @thriving-n-jiving @literallegendicon @echo9821 @angel-bugz @ssc7514 @clickbait-official @hades--baby @blackhawkfanatic @sirbonesly @saki---chan @skeletonsucker @nnsissys @kukavittu @tessakate @honestlymassivetrash @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @rayrayyio @diseasedclitoris @alex1011sdzfgh @thebumbqueen

[fastandcarlos]

"She's In Labour...Now?" : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: it wasn't supposed to happen yet, especially with max preparing for a race...

Your body froze, hand coming down to the side of your bump as yet again you felt a stab of pain against your side, struggling to keep yourself balanced. A heavy breath came from you as Sophie’s eyes glanced to your side, immediately moving closer to you. 

Your eyes shut in horror as another twang of pain arrived, leaning against anything that you could find to try and support yourself. Sophie’s hand landed on your back as she watched you, her eyes full of concern. 

“Everything alright?” She asked, although she already knew the answer to the question. “You don’t think you’re going into labour...do you?” 

Your shoulders shrugged, feeling your heart begin to race. “I don’t know, I hope not, Max is about to race any second and I need to be there to watch him.” 

Sophie’s head shook as you spoke, knowing that Max didn’t need to be your priority right now. Before you could argue she had a member of Max’s team rushing around the garage to try and find you, not giving you the chance to protest and assure her that you were fine. 

In a matter of moments Max’s figure came sprinting through the garage, his eyes searching for you. Sophie waved over to him, standing to one side as soon as Max arrived at your side, his arm moving around you to try and support you. 

“Is it happening?” Max nervously asked, looking between you and his mum. 

Just like his Mum, Max didn’t need an answer, already being able to tell for himself. As you went through another stab of pain you grabbed on tightly to Max, letting go of a groan. Max quickly moved to hold you tighter, keeping you against his chest. 

“It’s alright,” he whispered, kissing against the top of your head. “I’m right here with you, I’m not going anywhere,” he added, feeling your eyes glance up at him. 

Your head shook as you tried to step away from Max, but he was far too strong. He kept his hold despite how hard you tried to wriggle out, quickly remembering where you were and what he was supposed to be doing. 

“You can’t be here,” you murmured, “you need to be getting ready to race, you’re on pole, you can’t lose such valuable points Max.” 

“Do you really think I’d leave you right now, like this?” He asked you. 

You immediately felt guilty as Max asked a member of the team to come over, informing them to pass onto Christian that the reserve driver would need to step in for the race. 

“The team aren’t going to be happy,” one of the PR team told him in reply, scratching over the top of their head, “but I guess given the circumstances they’re just going to have to deal with it. We’ll put out a statement and tell everyone that you’re feeling unwell as the reason you’re not there.” 

You looked to Max once more, eyes pleading with him. “We don’t know for sure whether I’m in labour yet, why don’t you at least race? It’s only a couple of hours, I’ll be alright.” 

He didn’t even bother listening to you, his mind was well and truly made up and you wouldn’t be able to convince him otherwise. Max didn’t want to miss a thing, and he certainly didn’t want to not be by your side whilst you were in pain too, regardless of whether you were in labour or not. 

Everyone else went to carry on prepping for the race, with you and Max left alone after his mum told you that she’d head off to go and get your things. “I’m not willing to risk anything,” Max whispered, holding onto you as you began to walk over to the car park. “We’re going to the hospital whether you like it or not, I’d rather be safe than sorry.” 

You smiled weakly across at Max; his eyes filled with concern. “I’m not due for another three weeks Max, let’s just wait and see how the next hour goes, it might be nothing.” 

“But it could be something,” he corrected, still full of worry. Max was proven to be right as after taking a couple of steps you felt a pain that you couldn’t describe course over your bump, leaving you doubled over, biting down on your bottom lip to stop yourself screaming. 

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, relying on Max to keep you from falling. Your eyes screwed tightly shut, breathing as well as you could to try and ride out the pain. It took a few moments, but just as it passed, another stabbing pain hit your bump. 

Call it father’s instincts, but Max knew in that moment what was happening. He called for his car to be brought over as soon as it could be, wrapping his arms around you so that he could carry you, doing anything that he could to make life a little easier for you. 

Your arms wrapped around Max’s neck, allowing him to scoop you up. “Turns out, you might’ve been right,” you joked, feeling Max’s eyes glance down at you, as if he knew all along. 

“It’s not about being right or wrong, it’s about getting you to hospital now.” 

The car barely stopped before Max opened the passenger door and sat you in, buckling your belt. The valet passed him the keys as his mum arrived, passing your bags over to Max before shouting that she’d catch you up. Max quickly climbed into the car, putting his foot on the accelerator as fast as he could. 

“Turns out I’m in a different race now, the race with all this traffic.” 

“I’d like to get to the hospital in one piece,” you laughed, struggling to get yourself comfortable in your seat as Max drove as quickly as he could, weaving around the cars on the road that were queueing to get into the paddock and see the race, “and I think our child would also vouch for that too.” 

“I’m not driving like a maniac,” Max told you, but even he was a little doubtful. “Well, maybe I am a tad, but I think I can be forgiven considering the circumstances.” 

His eyes were only half on the road, with Max watching over to you too every time a contraction greeted you. Each one made his heart race, filled with him with nerves as you assured him that you were alright, even though you were far from it. 

It wasn’t exactly how you planned your day, ready to sit and relax whilst watching Max, struggling to believe what was about to happen. 

“I'm so proud of you,” Max whispered as he noticed you staring out of the window. "I don’t quite know what’s about to happen, and if I’m honest, I’m terrified, but one thing I know is that I’m going to be so in awe of you.” 

You smiled weakly back across at Max, “however scared you’re feeling right now, double it and you might feel as scared as I do. But the one thing that I know is that you’re there for me, so that means I’m going to be alright.” 

“I won’t let anything bad happen,” Max promised you, matching your smile. “I’m not going to leave you alone for a second, no matter what it takes.” 

Neither of you quite knew how the next few hours were going to unfold, but as a team, you knew you were going to be alright. The race was soon forgotten as the two of you looked to the future and the thrill of knowing that your first meeting with your daughter was right around the corner. 

“Can you believe we’re about to be parents?” Max smiled across at you. 

“I don’t think it’ll ever truly sink in.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[melminli]

Pink Pony Club

summary - you weren't expecting much from your evening in a shitty bar, but then you saw a pretty woman sitting next to you.

pairing: cho hyun-ju x fem. reader

word count: 1.2k

contains: wlw, angst w/ comfort, fluff, a bit transphobia, pre squid game au

a/n: hyun-ju was my fav this season and i literally love her so much - she deserves the world and more😔💕

the request.

You looked bored at your drink while you caressed its round surface with your index finger. Your friends had finally managed to drag you to one of their favorite bars and, you didn't really enjoy being here, as you had expected since it was pretty, well - straight.

You were fine with it at first, when you all sat down at a table and just talked and laughed together. However, after a while a group of men sat down at your table - with everyone's permission, of course, but you still weren't the biggest fan of that decision. The only reason you didn't mind was that your friends seemed to be having a genuinely good time with the guys and that they weren't too bad. You still excused yourself from the table after a while, because one of them wouldn't stop subtly flirting with you even when did not hide your lack of interest. Sitting lonely at the bar counter wasn't too bad, you guessed.

I'll just finish my drink and then leave. You thought to yourself, still bored, and glanced subtly at the woman next to you after noticing how she seemed to be moving around quite nervously for a while. “Hey, are you alright?” you whispered to her in a soft voice after you moved closer to her side.

She returned your gaze slightly surprised and seemed to try to make herself even smaller after your attention was focused on her. “Ah, yes everything is fine. there is nothing to worry about…”

A few guys a little further away from you suddenly started to cackle ugly after she finished talking and you didn't miss how the woman next to you turned her eyes back to the counter - obviously feeling uncomfortable by what they were saying.

“Did you hear that voice? It's even deeper than yours!” he said to his friend, who only agreed with a shocked look on his face as he pointed his hand in your direction. “Come on man, that's not fair! Have you even seen how rugged that dude is? I mean you do realize that's not a real - you know…”

You took an annoyed breath as you looked across the room and bit your tongue to keep you from spitting in their hideous faces. Though, it was pretty hard to restrain yourself since you really wanted to. "Assholes.” you just uttered while staring at their heads with a hateful look, imagining them exploding.

“Just ignore them…” said the woman next to you with a gentle voice after noticing your reaction. “What they say doesn't bother me anyway.”

And even though she said that you knew it did because it always did. You returned your attention back to her and introduced yourself to her after taking the last sip of your drink. “And what's your name, pretty?”

She seemed to be caught off guard a little when she heard you say that. “Oh, ehm…” she stumbled a little over her words. “It's ehm Hyun-ju. My name is Hyun-ju.”

You smiled. “Pretty like you. It suits you.” you complimented her and noticed how the weird guys from the corner were still watching you. “Hey, do you want to get out of here?” you asked and were glad when she nodded. “Well, come with me, I know a good spot,” you told her and took her hand in yours.

You gently pulled her off the chair with you and led her out of the stuffy bar, feeling like you could breathe again when your nose met the fresh air. “I was really close to beating those guys up,” you told her as you walked hand in hand with her. Hyun-ju giggled lightly, as if it was hard for her to imagine you doing something like that. You looked at her in disbelief. “What, you don't believe me? I'm totally serious, really!”

She tried to hide her smile, but barely managed it. “No, I believe you.” she replied, but you weren't really convinced by her answer. You just hummed when you finally noticed the store. “Look there! I hope you're hungry, because this place makes the best japchea.” you told her happily while holding the door open for her because a long time had passed since you last went to this little restaurant.

Luckily, there weren't many people here at this time of day, so you managed to get a good seat for two. “Sorry, I didn't even ask if you wanted to eat japchea. They also have lots of other things if you want, my treat.” you winked at her and Hyun-ju noticed how you cuddled your hands against your cheeks, as if they were still warm from the alcohol.

“Thank you, but japchea is fine. I will trust your recommendation,” she replied shyly and watched as you shouted your order with two fingers in the air to the chef, who gave you an all-clear with his thumb. “They don't have a waiter here, so…” you explained, automatically putting your hand back on hers without really noticing.

Well, you didn't until Hyun-ju's eyes turned to it and it was only then that you realized you were probably being a little too handsy. “Oh, I'm sorry about that.” you quickly apologized when you quickly pulled your hand back. “I really didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable or anything, you're probably not even into other women?” you let the question hang in the air, while you simultaneously cursed yourself for even asking that.

Hyun-ju blinked slightly in surprise while she played nervously with her hair. You knew at that moment that you had fucked up and prevented yourself from showing your disappointment. Unknown to you, she was thinking about something entirely else right now. So she was flirting with me the whole time? I didn't even realize, how embarrassing. “Are…are you?” she asked tensely, almost slapping her hand over her face at her stupid question. Of course she is, she just said it.

You laughed lightly with one eyebrow raised. “Do I like women? Hell yeah.” you just said, finding it a little funny how she acted right now. cute.

Hyun-ju was used to attracting the attention of girls before starting her transition. She even had a few relationships with them and liked it, but dating was one of the many things that became more than just difficult for her after she officially came out. “I'm a trans woman,” she finally said, even though she knew that you knew.

You just leaned forward with a grin. She hadn't turned you down, that's all you cared about. “I know,” you said, watching how she shyly avoided your gaze while crossing her arms in front of her. “You don't have to hide. I meant it when i said that you're very pretty.”

Hyun-ju slowly met your gaze and this time it was her who initiated physical contact with you. She held your hand softly. “I think you're really pretty too,” she said, and at that moment, you were both pretty glad that you went to that shitty bar today, even if you'd never go there again.

[jungwnies]

f1 grid | comforting them

୨ৎ : featuring : all drivers on the grid ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : comforting your driver boyfriend after they had a bad race </3

୨ৎ : genre : romance & fluff (angsty if you SQUINT) ୨ৎ : tws : some are suggestive ୨ৎ : word count : 3902

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : a monday post cus.. why tf NOT

ʚ・red bull

max verstappen

acts like everything is fine, but you can tell by how quiet he is.

you guide him past media without a word, shielding him physically and emotionally.

cuts everyone off with a clipped “it’s fine,” but lets you stay close.

doesn’t speak much until you’re alone—just sits beside you, jaw clenched.

eventually murmurs, “it was shit today,” without looking at you.

you just nod and take his hand, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

you order food, dim the lights, and make him lay down while you run your fingers through his hair.

he melts slowly, letting the tension fall out of his body.

“you’re like my therapist,” he mutters.

“you’re like my emotional tax return,” you shoot back, and he actually laughs.

yuki tsunoda

starts off convincing himself it’s fine. “it’s okay, just racing. it happens.”

tries to brush it off with humor, but his eyes are a little too glossy.

sits stiffly, arms crossed, forcing himself not to cry in front of anyone.

when you ask if he’s alright, he shakes his head and says, “i don’t wanna talk about it,” voice tight.

but as soon as you wrap your arms around him, he lets out a breath like he’s been holding it for hours.

“i tried so hard today,” he mumbles into your shoulder, and that’s when the tears come.

buries his face in your chest, completely silent except for the way his arms tighten around your waist.

you stroke his back and whisper, “i know. i saw. you did everything you could.”

he doesn’t let go for a long time, just holds you like he needs you to hold the world together.

later, sniffling into your hoodie, he mutters, “don’t tell anyone i cried. but don’t go anywhere either.”

ʚ・mercedes

george russell

“well, that was a masterclass in how not to have a race,” he says, throwing his gloves on the table like he’s commentating his own downfall.

acts unbothered, sipping his water like it’s champagne. “at least i didn’t crash into a wall. small victories.”

makes a passive-aggressive joke about his strategy call, then follows it with “but it’s fine. i love character development.”

when you ask how he really feels, he smirks. “emotionally bankrupt, but thanks for checking.”

keeps pretending he’s over it, but you catch him zoning out mid-shower, forehead against the tile, just breathing.

when you hand him a towel and a soft “you don’t have to keep it together right now,” he just shrugs. “if i let go, i might not get back up.”

you sit with him on the couch, and he rests his head on your lap, finally letting you card your fingers through his hair.

“you make this day slightly less shit,” he mutters, then adds with a cheeky grin, “wanna really take my mind off it?”

you raise a brow. “that subtle, huh?”

he just smirks, pulling you down for a kiss. “come on. don’t make me beg. i’ve had a really bad day.”

kimi antonelli

throws his helmet a little too hard, then immediately panics like "oh shit did i just break it," while storming into the motorhome.

tries to act cool but ends up rage-snacking on chips mid-rant. "why the f—why do i even try?! i’m literally doing everything and the car’s like, ‘no ❤️’"

paces back and forth while voice-cracking through sentences like, "no, it’s fine. it’s cool. it’s just… my whole career. no big deal."

you sit there trying not to laugh because he’s got one sock halfway off and crumbs on his shirt but is fully spiraling like it’s the end of the world.

“am i washed at 18?! is that even possible?”

you calmly hand him a juice box and say, “you’re not washed. you’re dramatic.”

he glares, sucks on the straw aggressively, then slumps down next to you with a loud sigh.

“i hate being a prodigy. too much pressure. should’ve been mediocre and mysterious.”

you rub his back and say, “you’re allowed to have a bad day, baby genius.”

he blinks up at you, lip jutted out. “if i win next weekend can we get matching crocs?”

you nod. he grins. “sick. emotional support footwear incoming.”

ʚ・ferrari

charles leclerc

comes home way too quiet. keys in the bowl, shoes off, straight to the bathroom without a word.

you find him staring at the sink, toothbrush in hand, not even brushing—just zoning out.

“i don’t know what i’m doing wrong,” he says, voice low. “i keep trying and i still mess it up.”

you hug him from behind and rest your chin on his shoulder. he doesn’t flinch, just leans into it with a sigh.

“maybe i’m not good enough anymore,” he mumbles. “maybe they’re right.”

you turn him around gently. “you are good enough. more than enough. stop speaking to yourself like that.”

he blinks fast like he’s trying not to cry, then rests his forehead against yours.

“i just… hate letting you down. even if you say you’re not disappointed.”

you guide him to bed, tug off his hoodie, pull the sheets over both of you. he curls into you instantly like a kid.

“you’re the only part of the day that feels good,” he whispers against your skin.

then, quietly, a little mischievously, “maybe we can end it with something else that feels good?”

you laugh into his hair. “if you’re asking me to kiss it better, just say that.”

“i am. in a poetic way.”

lewis hamilton

he doesn’t storm in. he’s not loud. he just walks through the door a little slower, like the weight of the day is still sitting on his shoulders.

takes his time taking off his shoes, hangs up his coat carefully—like staying in control might keep the emotions at bay.

sits on the edge of the couch with his hands clasped between his knees, eyes distant. “you ever give everything and still feel like it’s not enough?”

you sit beside him without saying a word, letting him talk when he’s ready.

“i don’t mind the criticism. i’ve been through worse. but sometimes it’s like… no one lets you just be human anymore.”

he looks at you with tired eyes, soft but heavy. “i’m not asking to win all the time. i just want to feel like i did something right.”

you lace your fingers with his and lean your head against his shoulder. “you do so much right. more than most ever could.”

he hums low in his chest, squeezes your hand. “you always know what to say.”

eventually pulls you into his lap, buries his face in the crook of your neck like he’s finally letting himself rest.

“just stay close tonight,” he whispers, kissing your shoulder. “you’re the one thing that still feels steady.”

“you’re the one thing that feels like peace.”

ʚ・mclaren

lando norris

kicks his shoes off a little too aggressively when he gets home. “don’t ask,” he mutters before you even say hi.

slumps on the couch, arms crossed, hoodie up, eyes on the ceiling. “today was great. crashed my hopes, ran over my self-esteem, 10/10.”

you offer to talk and he just grumbles, “nope. don’t wanna. gonna repress it. very healthy coping strategy.”

pretends he's fine, scrolls on his phone like he’s not one second away from crumbling. keeps sighing dramatically every five minutes for attention.

refuses to cuddle at first. “i’m mad at the world. leave me in my hoodie cave.” but then two seconds later: “okay but like… you can sit near me. just not touching. but like… close.”

eventually ends up curled into your side, face hidden in your neck. mumbles, “today sucked. i sucked. everything sucked.”

you stroke his hair and he softens immediately. “you don’t suck. you’re just tired. burnt out. you need rest, not punishment.”

“you’re being all soft and wise, it’s disgusting,” he grumbles—but his hand’s gripping your shirt like you might float away.

you kiss his temple. “still want me to leave you in your hoodie cave?”

he pulls the blanket over both of you and whispers, “shut up. you live here now.”

oscar piastri

walks into the room and doesn’t say much. just nods once, drops his bag, and disappears into the bathroom.

you hear the water running—ice cold. he always showers when he’s overwhelmed. said it helps him “reset.”

when he comes out, hair wet, hoodie half-zipped, eyes tired—he looks a little more like himself again. still quiet. still distant. but thawing.

sits next to you on the bed without saying anything, just slowly reaches for your hand and starts tracing circles on your palm.

“i didn’t know how to talk about it without getting angry,” he admits softly. “so i didn’t.”

you nod and lean your head on his shoulder. “you don’t need to explain everything right away. i’ll wait.”

he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “thanks for not pushing me. i just… hate not being enough.”

turns to you with red-tinted eyes. “it’s stupid. it’s just racing. but when it goes wrong, it feels like i’m failing you too.”

you hold his face and say, “you never have to earn being loved. not from me.”

he presses his forehead to yours and whispers, “can i just stay here with you for a while?”

then, a small smile. “also i might’ve left my sanity in the ice bath, but at least you’re here.”

ʚ・aston martin

fernando alonso

he comes home calm, like always. keys on the counter, jacket folded neatly. but there’s a tightness in his smile when he kisses your cheek.

“today was… different,” he says. not dramatic, not upset. just honest. “did everything right. still fell short.”

you know when it hits him—it’s in the way he lingers at the window, watching the sky like it has answers.

“some days you feel time catching up with you,” he says quietly. “not just in racing. in everything.”

he doesn’t need you to fix it. he doesn’t even need a pep talk. just presence.

you sit beside him on the couch, thigh to thigh, and rest your hand on his. he doesn’t speak for a while.

then, softly, “i think it just hurts more when you still want it this badly.”

you turn to face him. “it’s not weakness to want. it means you’re still alive in it.”

he smiles a little, shakes his head. “you’re too poetic for me.” but he leans in, rests his head against yours anyway.

“you help me breathe on days like this,” he murmurs. “even if i don’t say it.”

then after a pause, he smirks. “also… i might require some very specific stress relief later. for mental health reasons.”

you laugh. “is that what we’re calling it now?”

“doctor’s orders.”

lance stroll

walks in without a word, drops his stuff, and immediately faceplants onto the bed—fully dressed, shoes still on.

groans into the mattress. “everything sucks. i suck. the car sucks. media sucks. people suck.”

doesn’t want to talk at first, just grunts when you ask if he’s hungry. “no. actually, yes. but i don’t wanna move.”

you bring him snacks and he eats them off your plate like a sleepy gremlin, mumbling, “you’re the only good thing today.”

flops his head into your lap and finally breathes properly for the first time all day. “i hate how drained i get. everyone wants something. i just wanna be here.”

you run your fingers through his hair and he closes his eyes, murmuring, “i think i used my entire personality quota at the track.”

“can we just stay in here forever? like… disappear? change our names? move to a mountain town?”

you smile and nod. “sure. i’ll pack the stuff.”

he grins sleepily, then pulls your hand to his chest. “you make everything feel less loud.”

then, quietly: “you’re my safe place.”

five minutes later, fully under the blanket, eyes half-closed: “also. i’d like to make out now. for comfort purposes.”

ʚ・williams

alex albon

walks in already scrolling tiktok, earbuds in, nodding like he’s totally unbothered.

plops onto the couch, legs across your lap, and shows you cat videos like he didn’t just get roasted by strategy and a five-place penalty.

laughs too loud at dumb memes. “this is healing. this is therapy.”

you let him vibe, let him chill, until you see that slight pause mid-scroll. his thumb hovers. brows knit. he doesn’t show you this one.

“people are brutal today,” he mutters, still staring at the screen. “like… i know i joke about it, but sometimes i wonder if they’re actually right.”

you take his phone gently, set it down, and crawl into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “hey. you know they’re not.”

he exhales slowly, voice quieter now. “i wish it didn’t get to me, but some days it does. just a little more than i’d like to admit.”

you press your forehead to his. “you don’t have to be funny about everything. you’re allowed to feel it too.”

he nods, lips pressed together. then, soft as ever: “can you just… hold me for a bit? like properly?”

“always,” you whisper. and he lets himself be still. no jokes. just you.

carlos sainz

he comes in with that tired-but-trying smile, tossing his bag down gently like even that feels heavy.

“it wasn’t… great. but i learned something. that’s always the takeaway, no?” he says, already slipping off his jacket.

he talks himself through it out loud, mostly to you but partly to himself. “maybe i pushed too hard. maybe the strategy wasn’t perfect. but i didn’t give up. that matters.”

you nod and hum and let him vent until he runs out of words and just stares at the wall in thoughtful silence.

“can i have a hug now?” he asks suddenly, already walking over like he knows the answer.

wraps his arms around your waist and buries his face in your shoulder. “you’re the only place i feel like i can breathe after a day like this.”

you guide him to the couch and he pulls you into his lap, burying his face into your neck like it recharges him.

“even if i’m okay… i still need this. i think everyone does, sometimes.”

he starts to drift off mid-cuddle, fingers tracing your spine lazily, voice getting slower.

“i should just speak spanish. english is too much work when i’m tired,” he mumbles against your skin.

then whispers, “gracias por amarme incluso cuando me siento roto.” (thank you for loving me even when i feel broken.)

you press a kiss to his forehead. “always.”

“te juro que voy a mejorar. para ti. para mí.” (i swear i’m going to get better. for you. for me.)

ʚ・haas

ollie bearman

bursts into the room like he just won the race. “alright! that was a trainwreck. who wants to start the post-race roast?”

keeps making jokes like, “honestly, i think i invented new ways to mess up today. f1 history books: written by me.”

you raise an eyebrow and say nothing, just letting him go off while he rants about strategy, traffic, “and my stupid left foot that forgot how to brake.”

finally crashes onto the couch, staring at the ceiling with a dramatic sigh. “do you think i peaked at 17?”

you crawl into his lap and cup his face gently. “no. i think you haven’t even scratched the surface of what you’re capable of.”

he blinks up at you, smile faltering for just a second. “yeah? even after… whatever that was today?”

“especially after that,” you say, brushing a thumb over his cheek. “you care. you fight for it. that’s what makes you special.”

he exhales, the tension leaving his body all at once as he buries his face in your chest. “okay, now i’m gonna cry like a little baby, hope you’re ready.”

you kiss the top of his head. “already holding you. already proud.”

he peeks up with a grin. “can you say that again but like, with sparkles and dramatic background music?”

you laugh. “ollie bearman, you are a legend in the making.”

“that’s the energy. now kiss me before i start doing self-deprecating tiktoks.”

esteban ocon

comes home calm, too calm, like he’s holding everything in with white knuckles and discipline.

doesn’t speak until he’s showered, changed, and had a full 20 minutes of silence. then sits beside you and says softly, “he was better today. i saw it.”

you know he means another driver—someone younger, someone faster today—and you can hear the frustration in his restraint.

“maybe i’m not doing enough,” he mutters, barely above a whisper. “maybe i’m the weak point.”

you try to stop him, but he just shakes his head. “i’m not fishing. i just… feel it. and i hate it.”

he’s not angry. he’s just disappointed in himself. his brows stay pinched even when you’re stroking his hand.

“i’m scared that if i don’t prove it now, no one will believe in me later.”

you climb into his lap and hold his face gently, forcing him to look you in the eye. “you don’t need to prove anything to be worthy of love. or respect.”

he leans into your touch, eyes closed. “i want to believe that. i do.”

you kiss his cheek. “then start here. start with me. i’ve always believed in you.”

he lets out a shaky breath and whispers, “merci…” then rests his forehead against yours like he’s anchoring himself back to solid ground.

ʚ・racing bulls

liam lawson

walks in tossing his hat onto the kitchen counter and mutters, “well that was a steaming pile of absolute crap.”

jokes about it in that dry way. “should’ve just driven a shopping trolley. might’ve gotten better results.”

he’s pacing while he talks, voice calm but clipped. “not even mad at anyone specifically. just… the whole bloody universe.”

you lean on the doorframe, arms crossed. “want me to fight the universe?”

he smirks, shaking his head. “nah. that’s my job. but i appreciate the backup.”

doesn’t take it out on you at all—in fact, he’s more affectionate. keeps reaching for your hand while he vents.

“i know it’s just one race. i do. but it builds up, y’know? starts to feel like you’re yelling into a void and it’s all echo.”

you guide him to the couch and let him rest his head in your lap. “you’re allowed to yell. i’ll hear it. even if the world doesn’t.”

he sighs and looks up at you with that soft, slightly crooked smile. “you’re dangerously good at this, you know that?” “at what?”

“loving me out of a bad mood.”

then he tilts his head and adds, completely casual, “might need a little… extra cheering up later though.”

you roll your eyes. “that what you’re calling it now?”

he grins. “what can i say? i’m a man of simple needs.”

isack hadjar

bursts through the door like a tornado. “I AM RETIRING. I’M QUITTING. I’M GOING TO OPEN A BAKERY. OR JOIN A CULT. SOMETHING PEACEFUL.”

flings his bag across the room, misses the couch, and nearly knocks over a lamp. doesn’t even blink.

“do you know how humiliating it is to be passed like that? i was driving my heart out and the car was like, ‘no...NOPE..NOOOO.’”

keeps fake-dramatizing it like a one-man soap opera. “isack hadjar: the fall from grace – coming soon to a streaming platform near you.”

you play along for a bit until he finally plops onto the floor at your feet and just… sits. quietly.

“i was actually trying today,” he mumbles, not looking at you. “like properly trying. and it still went to shit.”

you sit down beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and he leans into you slowly like he’s deflating.

“sometimes i feel like people are just waiting for me to fail so they can say they knew it.”

you turn to him gently. “they’re not. and even if they were… you’ve already proven them wrong just by showing up the way you do.”

he rests his head on your shoulder with a sigh. “you’re annoyingly good at this whole ‘being nice to me’ thing.”

you grin. “want me to stop?”

“no,” he mutters, snuggling closer. “never. might need it tattooed on me actually. in comic sans.”

ʚ・alpine

pierre gasly

slams the door just a little too hard. doesn't say anything at first—just kicks off his shoes, throws his phone on the table, and heads straight to the kitchen for water like it personally wronged him.

“they don’t listen. doesn’t matter what i say. it’s like talking to a fucking wall,” he mutters, pacing like he’s ready to punch a pillow.

you try to say something gentle and he snaps a little too fast—“i’m fine, okay?” but it’s not sharp. it’s exhausted.

he keeps moving around the room, hands on his hips, jaw clenched. “maybe i should stop caring. maybe that’s the trick.”

you don’t respond—you just walk over and wrap your arms around him from behind. he tenses for half a second. then sighs.

“you always do that,” he mumbles, not pulling away. “just… hug me until i stop being mad.”

you press your cheek to his back. “because i know you’re not really mad. you’re tired. and hurt.”

he turns around and buries his face in your neck like it’s the only safe place he knows. “i hate that they make me feel like this. like i’m not enough.”

you kiss his hair. “you are. always have been.”

he holds you tighter, breath shaky. “i don’t say it enough, but… i need you. especially on days like this.”

then, muffled: “also if you kiss me again i’ll probably forget what i was mad about. just sayin’.”

jack doohan

in front of the team? stone-faced. cool. collected. “yeah, not the best day. we’ll move on. it’s fine.”

comes home? immediately sighs the second the door closes. rests his forehead against the wall for a solid ten seconds before moving.

tries to act chill around you too. “it’s just one of those days. happens. i’m fine.”

he is not fine. but he’s doing that thing where he says he’s okay while avoiding eye contact and changing the subject every 3.2 seconds.

“you hungry?” he asks, even though he’s barely eaten since breakfast. “we could order something. or not. i don’t care.”

you eventually pull him onto the couch, and he lets himself flop next to you, arms crossed like a sulky cat.

he won’t say it outright, but his knee is bouncing, his fingers are twitching, and he keeps glancing at you like he wants permission to crack.

“i just hate looking like i don’t belong here,” he finally mumbles, voice low. “like i’ve got something to prove every second.”

you crawl into his lap and cup his jaw, making him look at you. “you belong. you’re not failing. you’re learning. that’s what makes you good.”

his lips part like he wants to argue, but then he just exhales and wraps his arms around you like you’re the only thing holding him up.

“it’s stupid,” he whispers. “i didn’t want to need comfort today. but here i am.”

you smile. “i don’t mind. i like being the person you let your guard down with.”

he looks at you with soft eyes and the tiniest grin. “well… if i’m already emotionally vulnerable and pathetic… might as well make out about it?”

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[prael]

Head To Head

Itzy Yuna & Artms/Loona Heejin x male reader smut [Commissioned fic]

Masterlist word count: 13,663 Kofi(donations/commissions)

There must be a reason. There's always a reason.

Yuna has this look in her eye when she's up to something, and she's always up to something.

She's the one who always has a plan to execute, a scheme to concoct, an idea to hatch. Everything usually aligns with a single, specific purpose: to be the best. To beat everyone at everything. It's why she's captain of the debate team and the track team. It's why she's the president of the student council. She's the type of person to do every possible extracurricular there is, and to dominate them all, no matter how small, no matter how seemingly irrelevant.

Though her every achievement is matched by another, and it eats at her like nothing else.

She's got this sweet smile, a gentle lilt to her voice, and the most charming laugh, but you've known her long enough to understand that none of it means she's on your side. Not always, anyway. Not until she's figured out what she wants. (You're not saying it's all fake. She is a sweet person, really. But there's something else behind her eyes that never disappears completely, no matter how hard she tries to cover it up.)

"Have you eaten today? You look a little pale," Yuna says, her brow furrowing with worry.

"I'm fine," you reply. "I had lunch. Just... a little tired."

"Are you sure? I don't want you to go hungry or overwork yourself. I'm sure it's tough being the principal's son. Are you eating your meals on time?"

Even for Yuna, this is a bit too much. A full-court press of concern, all focused on you. It feels like a trap. "Seriously, I'm okay. I'm just trying to work on a little project."

"Can I help?" She asks as she's already pulling her chair closer to you, so she's practically peering over your shoulder. "What are you working on?"

"It's not difficult. I'm fine. Thank you."

"Two minds are better than one," she playfully says as she leans in a little closer, her hair falling on your shoulder and touching your cheek. Then there's the smell, an expensive, intoxicating fragrance that sends a shiver down your spine and a warmth deep inside your gut.

"Yuna," you say, and even you're not quite sure if you're protesting or pleading. "I'm fine. You don't need to."

You feel her hand on your back. It's warm. Her thumb strokes back and forth. The pressure is gentle but persistent. "It's what friends are for, they help each other out," she says softly.

The touch is comforting, almost enough to make you melt right there on the spot. "I have to be able to do this alone. Thank you, really, thank you, but I'll be okay."

Her hand moves up, and now it's resting on the back of your neck. You can't help but tense up a little bit, and she must notice because her hand goes away.

"If you say so," Yuna says. "Then how about you let me buy you dinner later? It'll be my treat."

"No, no," you quickly reply. "You don't have to."

"Please, I insist. It'll make me feel better."

She's so convincing. That's the thing about Yuna. She has the kind of voice and manner that makes you believe whatever it is she's saying. You feel a strange sense of urgency, the way she says this, the way she's looking at you. You can't say no. "Okay. Thank you."

"See you after school." She stands up and walks out of the classroom.

That was weird. There's an explanation for it, but there's no way she could know, is there? She's always two steps ahead of everyone. How could she have found out about it when your father only told you the day before?

Your stomach growls.

Maybe you should have actually eaten lunch.

-

There are no classes at the moment, not with graduation right around the corner and the last of the finals coming to an end. You're sitting in the afternoon sun, enjoying the quiet before the evening rush. The breeze is cool and pleasant, and the grass is soft and plush. It's a good day to sit and relax.

There are not many people out in the courtyard, but you recognise the one that's been sitting out here almost as long as you have.

Heejin's sitting against a tree. Her hair is a little messy, as usual, but the soft breeze keeps it from being too unruly. Her clothes are a little loose as if she doesn't care about how she looks. She looks so peaceful, so tranquil, as she reads the book in her lap. She has her headphones on, listening to music and blocking out the rest of the world.

She's cute, you think.

You should probably stop staring.

(You're trying not to, you swear, but there's just something so... easy on the eyes, about Heejin.)

There's a sudden swirl of wind, a little stronger than before, that blows the trees. Leaves are swirling and fluttering, and the swaying of the branches breaks the shade that Heejin's tree provides. A ray of sunlight shines down on her, bright and beautiful. The glow makes her seem to shine, but she doesn't appreciate it, it blinds her for a moment, and you see the way her eyes narrow, and the annoyed look on her face.

It's enough to pull her out of her trance. Her gaze moves, and her eyes lock with yours. Her expression is flat and unamused. You can almost feel her judgement from here.

Oh. Yeah. Right. That's what you get for staring. You look away.

"Hey."

Oh no.

"Can we talk?"

You look up, and Heejin's standing over you. She's not smiling, but she's not frowning, either. Her face is neutral and expressionless, but you know it's because she doesn't have anything nice to say.

"Hi, uh," you nervously stammer. "What's up?"

She gestures at the space on the bench next to you. "Can I sit?"

"Go ahead." You slide a little bit to the side.

Heejin takes a seat. "I heard something from a friend, and I was wondering if it was true," she says. "I wanted to hear it from you directly, so I'm going to ask you."

"Yeah?"

Heejin looks at you straight on. She's not one to hold back. "Is your dad asking you to decide between me and Yuna for valedictorian?"

There it is. Confirmation of your suspicions. It makes little to no sense how it got out so quickly, or how it got out at all. The whole thing was meant to be a secret, after all. You hesitate to say anything.

She doesn't seem offended that you haven't answered. Instead, she says, "You don't have to tell me. I already know it's true."

You don't have an answer to that. Heejin is like this; one-sided conversations, like she has her own way of thinking about things. She's a bit blunt and brusque, and it's a bit jarring. It's the kind of honesty and openness that's a bit too raw to be considered polite.

"You don't seem very surprised," you finally reply.

Heejin gives you a shrug. "It's not surprising. The school's a bit of a mess. I'm not sure the principal has his shit together." She looks at you with a slight smirk. "No offence."

You let out a little chuckle. "Yeah. It's okay."

"Your dad's a little..." Heejin makes a vague gesture with her hand. "He's trying. He's trying to be a good principal, I can tell, but he's just a little, y'know, not great."

"I get it."

She lets out a soft laugh and shakes her head. "Well, he's your dad, I shouldn't shit talk him too much. But I mean, it's a pretty big deal that he's making his son pick between the top students. I think that's messed up, honestly."

"To be fair, there's no way to split the two of you," you try to explain. "You're putting up the exact same scores, all across the board. You're tied."

"Yeah. I know. I know." She leans back a bit on the bench and lets out a long sigh. "Yuna's tough to compete against. She always has her head in the game. She's got that look in her eye when she's on to you." Heejin looks at you. "You know what I mean, right?"

You nod your head in agreement. "I know."

"I've come to a conclusion: there's only one way to beat her. You know what I have to do, right?"

"...What?"

Heejin gives you a smirk and leans in. She rests her hand on your thigh. Your eyes go wide in shock, and she lets out a little giggle. "I have to convince you to let me be valedictorian." Her fingers squeeze the inside of your leg. "I can persuade you, right?"

Your hand snaps down to her wrist and holds her. "Heejin," you say, and your voice is a little shaky. "What are you—"

"Don't play dumb, I've seen the way you look at me," Heejin interrupts. "I see it, the way you're checking me out. I'm hot, right? You can say it, I don't mind."

She's such a straight shooter, there's no other way to describe her. There's no double entendre or sneaky little insinuation or subtle implication. It's just plain and simple. Heejin says exactly what she wants, no more, no less. There's something attractive about that. Something... exciting.

But this is a lot to process, especially when her hand's on your leg.

"I... um, I," you stutter. "I..."

"What the hell is this!?"

Oh no.

The voice makes the two of you jump a little. Yuna's marching up to the both of you, and she doesn't look happy. You let go of Heejin's hand, but it doesn't make much difference. Her hand's still on you, after all.

"Are you really stooping so low?" Yuna demands, pointing at Heejin.

"Talking to my friend? That's stooping low, now?" Heejin asks, raising an eyebrow. Her voice is casual and indifferent, almost as if she's goading her. "I can't talk to my friend anymore?"

"Get your hands off him, Heejin. It's not a good look." Yuna crosses her arms. "Don't you have any self-respect?"

Heejin lets go of your leg, but she's as unflustered as ever. "I was just talking to my friend. I can talk to him, can't I?"

"He has a lot on his mind. He doesn't need you distracting him."

Heejin rolls her eyes and starts on the defensive. "I wasn't doing anything like that." She stands up. "He has enough brains to think for himself." She looks at you, and there's a little smirk on her lips. "Right?"

You're about to reply, but Yuna steps between you and Heejin, the skirt resting on her wide hips in front of your face and blocking your view of Heejin. She's staring at Heejin. Her eyes are narrowed. "I don't know what you were doing, Heejin. But it wasn't just talking."

"I was giving him my suggestion," Heejin answers.

Yuna shakes her head. "He doesn't want your 'suggestions', whatever that is."

"He can speak for himself, y'know? He's a smart kid," Heejin says, a little more sharply. "If I wanted his attention, he'd give it to me. He knows what he wants. Don't you?" She asks, looking over at you with a little twinkle in her eye.

"I..." You swallow. It's a bit difficult to think when there's so much going on. "I..."

Heejin laughs a little at how you're a little lost for words. Yuna, though, is not nearly as amused. She steps closer to Heejin and leans in to say something. You don't hear what she's saying. It's too quiet for you to make it out. Heejin listens, and her smirk fades.

"Fine. Whatever," Heejin says. She walks away without a single glance at you.

"Wait," you say to her, standing up. You're about to follow her, but Yuna steps in the way again, and her expression makes you stop.

"What's wrong?" Yuna asks, blinking her wide, innocent eyes. "Is something the matter?"

"I was just gonna say goodbye," you reply. It seems silly to try to explain this, and Yuna is looking a bit impatient. You decide not to say more. "Never mind."

She smiles and links arms with you. She's a lot more close than she's usually been. She's pressed up to your side, her arm entwined with yours, her chest pressed up against your shoulder, soft and warm. You try to ignore it. You're trying not to read too much into things. But it's a little tough when Yuna's the one being affectionate like that. "I was thinking," she says, "we can grab some pizza for dinner if you don't mind."

You take a final glance at Heejin as she walks away. Her backpack is slung over one shoulder. Her headphones are back on. Her head is held high as she walks with a strut. Those long bare legs protrude from under her skirt.

Yuna pulls at you. "Come on."

-

Dinner is, well, dinner. You and Yuna talk, about the usual things. You both chat about what's next after graduation and then she tells you about her family and how her sister has been annoying her lately. You listen. You nod. You talk. You eat. You talk again. It's a little weird, but it's nice, and the pizza's great. You're grateful.

But you know it's all a game.

If Heejin knows the power you've been handed, then Yuna does, too. And if both of them know, then the only way to get ahead of each other is by being more persuasive. Heejin had a... direct method. Yuna, though, she's more subtle, but you're sure her intentions aren't any less self-centred.

She turns the conversation to questions, focusing on you, rather than her. She's batting her eyelashes as she asks you questions about the school, about your family, about your friends. It's all innocent enough, but you're not stupid. You've known Yuna long enough to understand how she's playing you. And she's good at it. It's almost too easy to fall under her spell, to fall for her charms. The way she leans closer to you. How her fingers run across your palm, tracing little circles. The way she laughs at all your jokes, even the ones you know are dumb. How her smile is always on her lips. How her eyes sparkle whenever she's listening. The way she tilts her head and pouts when she doesn't quite get something.

"You're so lucky to be the principal's son," she says as if it isn't an excuse to bring up the whole reason she's even sitting with you. "Must be fun having all the connections."

"It's not a big deal." You shrug. "He just treats me like a normal student." Mostly. "I don't get anything out of it. He's a little strict on me, honestly."

"I don't know, there must be some perks to it," Yuna insists. "I'd kill to be able to have that kind of privilege."

"Yeah? Like what?" you ask. You take another sip of your drink.

"I don't know." She runs a hand through her hair, brushing the strands out of her face, and lets out a little laugh. "You get to be first for everything, don't you?"

You shrug. "Not really."

"And you can probably flunk a class and just make your dad pass you anyway." She winks. "No?"

"Not how that works," you reply. You're getting the sense she's trying to work up to a point.

"Okay, maybe not, but there's got to be something good." She smiles. "You've got any secrets?"

You raise an eyebrow. "What kind of secrets?"

"Oh, come on," she playfully insists. "I bet your dad's told you all the juicy gossip about the teachers and staff, right? Or maybe even about students?"

You don't answer. She takes that as an affirmative.

"Oooh, you're holding out on me. I wanna know!" Yuna grabs your hands and leans closer to you. Her shirt hangs low on her neck, exposing a little more cleavage than you're comfortable seeing. "Tell me a secret. Something interesting."

"Like what?" you ask. You know you probably should lean away, but it feels a bit too rude to do that.

"Anything. Something fun." She squeezes your hand. "I promise I won't tell. Come on. Just between the two of us."

You feel like she's closing in on you. You can smell the faint scent of her perfume, just like earlier in the afternoon, and her eyes are twinkling, her lips pouting ever so slightly. The warmth of her skin against yours, the way her thumb is rubbing your palm. "Okay, fine." You look around, making sure no one else can hear. "The art teachers, she, uh..."

"Yeah?"

"She's getting a divorce, turns out she's into women."

"Oh my god." She blinks and covers her mouth in surprise. "No way."

"It's true," you say. "There's been a whole thing, her husband found out about an affair, it's all messy. Don't tell anyone, okay? I wasn't meant to tell."

"I won't," she says, a coy smile on her face. "Don't worry. I can keep secrets. Your secret's safe with me." She leans back, but her hand doesn't let go of yours. "But it's not just gossip, right? Does your dad ever, you know..." Her other hand joins her first, her palms rubbing your knuckles, her skin warm and soft against yours, her fingers stroking and massaging you. "Ask you for advice? Maybe you have some sway on how things get run at school, huh? I'm just curious, I swear."

It's an obvious question, and it's the kind that you expected she might try to ask, eventually. "Sometimes, yeah."

She nods. Her hands don't stop. They continue to caress and stroke, her touch gentle and comforting, but also firm, persistent, almost suggestive. The sensation makes you tingle a little, a little buzz running through your body. "That must be fun," she murmurs. "So has he asked for any advice lately?"

You know exactly what she wants, but she hasn't quite asked for it directly. You decide to tease her. "Yeah. I guess he's asked a bit recently."

"Oh, really?" She leans forward again, her lips just inches away from yours. "Like what?"

"About, uh, some stuff," you answer vaguely. You can't tell her exactly, you want to hear her ask it.

"Maybe I could help. Maybe we can talk about it and figure it out together." Her hand's moving up from yours and now she's stroking up your forearm, slowly rubbing it. Her touch feels so good, and her eyes are locked on yours, unblinking, her gaze focused solely on you. She bites her lip a little. "If he asked about something like... I don't know..."

You smile. She knows. And she's playing coy, pretending that she doesn't know what she wants. You can't let that stand. You can't let her get away with it. "Spit it out."

"Maybe..." Her eyes glance to the side. "...who to choose for valedictorian?"

It's about time she asks. "And what do you think?" you ask, a sly grin creeping up on you. "You got a suggestion?"

Yuna blushes a little and lets out a giggle. "Me."

"You?"

"Yeah. I think I'd be the best fit. Don't you?" She bats her eyelashes. "My scores are the best—

"—Joint best."

"And my extra-curricular; I have the most—"

"—Joint most."

"And I'm the president, captain, leader of—"

"—Joint leader, captain and president."

"Are you just gonna keep doing that?" Yuna pouts.

"Doing what?"

"Joint," she says, imitating you, her voice lowering. "Joint. Joint. Joint. I mean, yeah, I get it. But you can't say that Heejin is really better than me, is she?"

You shrug.

"Is she? I don't think she is. I know her grades are as good as mine, but she doesn't put in as much work as me. I've been putting my blood, sweat and tears into all these clubs, all the things I'm in. She's just... doing things because she has nothing better to do. I'm actually trying, I'm working so hard, and I know that's worth something." She gives you a look that's somehow innocent and imploring, while simultaneously persuasive. "I deserve to be valedictorian."

You're not going to argue with her, she does deserve it. They both do.

Yuna keeps going, "You can help me, you know. We're friends. I've always been nice to you, haven't I? Do this for me and I'll owe you. Big time. I mean it. I will be very, very, grateful."

She trying so desperately to entice you, and she's doing her very best. The way her eyes twinkle and flutter as she speaks to you. The way her voice goes a little high-pitched and squeaky, the way she pouts her lips and widens her eyes. She leans so far over the table that she hits her drink and sends it tumbling. The glass shatters as it hits the floor and the two of you flinch from the sound.

"Oh my god!" Yuna gasps. "I'm so sorry, oh my god!" She jumps off her chair. The staff are quickly making their way over, and Yuna immediately apologises to them, a look of utter embarrassment on her face. "I'm sorry, it was an accident!"

The staff wave it off and start to clean up. You offer to help, but they refuse, so instead, you think it best to pay and call an end to dinner.

"That's so embarrassing, oh my god," Yuna groans. She covers her face with her hands and shakes her head. "I'm such an idiot, I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it, it was an accident." You smile. The sun has almost set and the sky has turned a dusky orange and purple. The cool breeze in the evening air is pleasant and relaxing. You let out a sigh. You feel refreshed, and there's something to appreciate about the quiet. But the night's coming in, and you know you have to go back. "I'll walk you home," you offer.

Yuna smiles at you gratefully, and the two of you make the trip together.

-

The lady's dorms aren't far from your own. You're about to leave and head home when Yuna suddenly grabs you by the wrist. "Wait, don't go yet."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just want to give you something before you go."

"Like what?" you ask. "I already owe you dinner, so..."

"No, no, don't worry about that. This is something different." Yuna steps close to you and wraps her arms around you. You tense up, unsure, but you let her embrace you, her arms around your waist and her hands against your back. "A hug."

"A hug?"

"Yup. A big hug." Yuna rests her chin against your chest, looking up at you. Her eyes are twinkling and her smile is sweet. She squeezes you tighter and leans into you. "For being a good friend. For listening to me talk about all the stupid things in my life. For coming out to dinner with me." Her hand rubs against your back. "And for being so nice."

"Um..." You're a little taken aback by this sudden act of kindness. You wrap your arms around her, too, hugging her back. You're not quite sure if this is a bit much. Yuna can be friendly, but this feels a little excessive, even for her. She's holding onto you, her body pressed up against yours, and it's making you a little uncomfortable. "Thanks. That's, uh, really nice. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Yuna murmurs and her voice is low and soft, her eyes staring right at yours, unblinking. Her body is so soft against yours, her skin feels smooth and warm, and her embrace feels like it's melting into your own. You can't help but notice her body, her curves, the way her hips and chest seem to press into you. It feels like she's trying to make you notice. "So... do you think you'll help me?"

"Help you?" you ask.

"About... y'know..." Yuna tilts her head a little and leans back to look up at you, but her hands stay firmly planted on your back. She smiles playfully. "The valedictorian thing?"

"I, um, I haven't really—"

"—thought about it? Yeah. Okay." She pouts. "Do you need more time?"

"Maybe," you admit. "I haven't really been—"

"—been thinking about it. I know." Yuna steps back and lets you go. She smiles at you again, but this time, it seems a bit more... sultry? Seductive? "Okay, fine. But you'll have my eternal gratitude if you help me, I swear."

She turns and skips into her building, and you stand there for a second, watching as the doors close behind her. Then, you turn and start walking back to your dorm. It's dark out and you have a long walk, so you decide to take the scenic route. You pass by the school fields, past the baseball and soccer grounds, and then you pass the gym and pool buildings. Finally, you cross the courtyard, heading for your dorm.

You're about halfway across when you notice a figure on the benches. The same figure as earlier.

"Aren't you cold?" you call out, walking up to Heejin. She's still in her uniform, but she doesn't seem to be wearing anything to protect her from the night chill. She's still sitting there, legs crossed and head resting on one hand.

She looks up at you as you approach. "A little, yeah."

"Why are you out here?"

"Why not?" She shrugs. "It's nice. Peaceful."

You can't argue with that. You look up at the night sky and take a deep breath, letting the cool air fill your lungs. The silence is nice. It feels like the world has stopped, the universe has paused to give you a moment of quiet. "You can still enjoy it while wearing a jacket, maybe a hoodie. Switch out that skirt for some sweats."

Heejin smiles. "You sound like my dad."

"I didn't know your dad was such a smart guy."

"He isn't," she jokes. She lets out a soft laugh, and then she looks back up at you. "So why are you out here?"

"Walking home. Passing by."

"Did she take you somewhere nice?" Heejin suddenly asks with a knowing smirk. There's no malice in her voice. If anything, she sounds amused.

"Dinner. Pizza."

"Sounds romantic," she remarks, with the tone of someone who means the exact opposite. "Did it work? Are you persuaded?" She leans back on the bench, stretching her arms out and spreading them wide across the back. Her position exposes more of her, the skirt rising higher. You can see the smooth curves of her legs, the muscles that have developed from years of track and dance. They look inviting.

"It was just dinner. We talked. That's all," you explain.

"Just talked," Heejin repeats. She's clearly sceptical. "Just talked," she repeats again, emphasising it.

"Just talked," you reaffirm.

"Sure. Fine," Heejin says with a playful roll of her eyes. She leans forward now, clasping her hands together and settling them between her bare knees. She leering at you, now. Her smirk is suggestive, even seductive. It feels like she's toying with you, almost mocking you. "What did she offer you?"

"Uh, nothing. Just that she would owe me one."

"Yeah, she would owe you one," Heejin drawls, nodding her head patronisingly. "Bet she said it with real suggestive eyes, too, and she touched you, maybe held your arm or something, right? Like, really obviously trying to imply she'll fuck you if you made her valedictorian?"

Your throat runs dry and Heejin just laughs to herself.

"At least I know what I'm up against," Heejin remarks. She stands up, slings her bag over her shoulder, and steps closer to you. She's looking straight at you. Her expression is stern, determined, and serious. Her eyes are narrowed and intense, staring into yours, penetrating through you. "Here's my counter-offer: I'll suck you off, right now. We'll go to your room, you sit down on the bed, take off your pants, I'll drop to my knees and blow you."

Holy shit, Heejin's really serious. She doesn't blink, her gaze remains focused on you.

"Then you pick me. You make me valedictorian."

You're silent. Speechless. There's no subtlety, no suggestion, no implication, no hinting. There's a credit to be given for honesty. You can respect the fact that she's not hiding what she wants, or trying to play games or manipulate you. It's refreshingly direct and simple. And yet, it's Heejin. The girl who quietly sits in class and aces every test. Who beats everyone's times in track. Who performs in competitions as a hobby. Everyone admires her. Everyone wants to be her friend. To have her say that, to offer that...

"You're blushing," Heejin says, smirking. She steps even closer, standing on her tip-toes, bringing her mouth closer to your ear, her hot breath hitting you and making you shiver. "Take me to your dorm," she whispers. "I'll make you cum until you can't even think anymore."

There's not an ounce of shame in her. Not the slightest hint of guilt. She's absolutely certain that she's in control and that you're weak and malleable, willing to succumb to her. She's got no doubt in her mind that she's completely dominating you, that she's utterly in charge.

-

Yuna throws herself onto her bed, feeling incredibly pleased with herself. Step one is complete. She picked out a cute outfit that looked innocent, but still enticing. She chose a restaurant that had a casual atmosphere, but still allowed them to sit and talk comfortably. She held his hand, she stared deeply into his eyes, she smiled at him and laughed at all his stupid jokes. And yes, it was embarrassing when she accidentally spilt her drink, but it worked out! He walked her home and gave her a hug, which was perfect. A perfect opportunity to tempt him with her body, and show off her curves. A preview of what he can have if he obeys. If he bends to her will.

Ryujin is listening to all the details of how Yuna thinks she has you wrapped around her little finger. Ryujin can't help but shake her head at her friend's naivety. Sure, maybe she got a few moments where she could entice you, but Ryujin knows you can't be won over by cheap tricks and flirtatious looks. What you need is someone more bold. Someone bolder, someone who will make the first move, and then take charge.

"...and then we hugged, and he was totally into me, I felt his heart beat faster, he was sooo excited," Yuna enthusiastically tells Ryujin. "And then he was just staring at me as I walked up the steps. He was, like, ogling my legs."

"Wow," Ryujin answers, with little enthusiasm. "Did he agree to make you valedictorian?"

"Kinda," Yuna answers. "Well, no. But he will. Trust me."

"You think that's enough? Empty promises and some light flirting?" Ryujin shakes her head and lets out a dismissive laugh. "Bare minimum."

"What? Do you want me to just ask him outright if he wants to bang? That's not how people work, they aren't direct like that," Yuna protests.

"You think Heejin is just gonna do the same? You think Heejin's gonna hold his hand and giggle at his shitty puns?"

"Yes," Yuna insists.

"Nope," Ryujin immediately corrects. "If she finds out that you took him out to dinner and tried to flirt with him, she's going to do something about it."

"Like what?"

"She's going to beat you. She's going to be bold, brash, and blunt, and she's going to seduce him so hard he doesn't have a choice," Ryujin confidently replies.

Yuna scoffs. "Yeah, right. Heejin's gonna seduce him? Please." She rolls her eyes and waves a dismissive hand. "She's pretty but there's no way she's going to throw herself at him."

Even as Yuna says it, the doubt creeps into her mind. Heejin did have her hand on your lap. And her legs... she wasn't exactly covering much. What if she takes it a step further? That uncertainty turns into something else, and Yuna starts to feel a little paranoid. "Oh my god," she says, a frown on her face, sitting up as if she's suddenly had a revelation. "So, hypothetically, maybe, just maybe, she somehow finds out that I went to dinner with him. Maybe, hypothetically, she decides to act, like, bold and seduce him."

Ryujin gives a long sigh and shakes her head. "That's exactly what she's gonna do. There's only one person on earth who cares about accolades as much as you, and that's Heejin. She's going to get what she wants, and that's graduation as valedictorian, even if she has to give up her dignity to do it." Ryujin tilts her head and adds, as if it were obvious, "You should be in his room right now."

"Fuck."

-

Yuna left the dorm immediately, and she is walking that same route you did just ten minutes earlier, her entire body charged with a sense of urgency, her heart pumping with nerves. She's trying to stay calm, but there's no way to not admit that this is, potentially, bad. Very bad.

The anxiety gnaws at her, and as she rushes through the darkness, she starts to wonder what Heejin might be doing right now, what she might say to him, and the kind of persuasion she might use. She doesn't trust Ryujin's words, no, but they keep echoing in her head.

'She's going to be bold, and brash, and blunt, and she's going to seduce him so hard he won't have a choice.'

The thought strikes her, the terrible feeling of just not knowing what's going on in your room. Yuna wants to bash down your door, throw herself in, and see for herself. It's driving her a little crazy.

Yuna takes a moment to process what this could mean for her, what could possibly be going on behind the walls, in the building ahead of her. She can't just walk in alone, no, it's the men's dorm. But... she overheard it once. A few guys were jealous that you had the solo dorm, the big room on the bottom floor at the end of the building. So she could probably work out which window is yours. Then, well, one look inside to see you relaxing, hopefully, alone...

Yuna steps off the path and begins to round the building. It's dark and quiet out, but that just makes her feel like it's even more indecent and dirty that she's finding excuses to spy on you. There are no lights on in the rooms above, it looks like everyone else in the building is either asleep or has gone out for the night. Your window, though, your room... there's definitely a light on.

She draws close, and when she rounds the corner, she peeks up. There's you, just standing in the room. Just the sight of you alone gives her relief.

Until the peeks a little further. Her eyes go wide and her breath catches in her throat.

It's Heejin.

She's on her knees, still wearing her uniform, but with the top few buttons popped, and her hair tied up in a ponytail. You're looking down at her, eyes fixed on hers. One hand's in her hair, your fingers running through it, stroking her hair. You look so pleased, so satisfied. So relaxed and comfortable.

Heejin's hands are on your hips, and Yuna notices her long, elegant fingers pressing into you. She looks so confident, so smug. So in control. So in charge. Yuna can feel the rage inside.

How could this be possible? This can't be happening. There's no way. There's no way.

Heejin grabs your hip and drags you closer, her other hand sliding up under your shirt. Her nails lightly scrape against your skin. She smiles when you flinch, and the expression on your face shows you're enjoying yourself.

Under her breath, Yuna mutters, "No fucking way. She's..."

She's sucking your cock.

Yuna stares. She stares and she can't stop. She can't tear her eyes away from the sight of Heejin, her lips around your length, taking you deep into her mouth. You're looking down at her, playing with her hair. The look of bliss on your face is impossible to ignore.

Heejin's skilled, Yuna realises with a growing sense of horror. She knows her way around it, with her lips circling the tip, tongue swirling and coating you in saliva, and her lips then easing your length further inside her. It's so fluid and smooth, and she's only using her mouth. How good must it feel?

She can imagine it. The hot, moist mouth on you, the soft, wet insides, the pressure of a mouth wrapping around you. The hum of approval as she continues to tease and play. The slurping and slobbering sounds. How it would look like her taking you deeper and deeper, her forehead touching the base, and how her throat would tighten around you.

Yuna feels her body ache. She's watching her position as valedictorian be sucked away down Heejin's throat. The girl whose a joint first, the same as her, is all but sealing her own victory with your climax. Her eyes are wide, staring at the scene in front of her, her fingers dug into the palm of her hand. This is absurd, impossible, unbelievable.

Heejin can't win like this. There's no way Heejin's better than her. Is she?

There's only one way she can stop it.

-

Heejin's sucking your brains out through your dick, making your spine tingle and your breath come in jagged and short gasps. It's nothing but pleasure for you. There are no thoughts, no conscious mind, just the sensation in your core.

Her mouth slides up and down, dragging up your shaft, her tongue sliding along it, licking and tasting the salty mixture of precum and spit. She draws her lips up your head, right to the tip, where she teases you with her tongue before plunging you back into the depths of her throat.

God, it feels amazing, every second of it. You can hear her gagging, choking, the sounds are so vivid and raw that you can't help but groan, tightening your grasp of her ponytail, just like she asked you to. She likes it. You can tell she likes it by the way she inhales every time you pull her close and shove yourself into her. Her nails dig into your ass, dragging you closer to her as you press up against the back of her throat, and she's showing no sign of relenting.

This can't last, though. This kind of sensation, the ecstasy and passion and tension, has a breaking point, and you know your orgasm is coming. Heejin does too, because her pace starts picking up, and her head bobs faster up and down your shaft, her throat choking on your head, her mouth so tight and warm around you.

You fight it, the urge, the need to finish. You want this to last forever, you want it to keep going, the feeling of her lips, her throat, the sloppy noises of her sucking you dry. But the orgasm is inevitable. Your hands instinctively drag her to you, and you can feel the tremble in your hips, the buildup in your balls and the tightness in your pelvis.

But it's all fucking ruined. A bang on the door.

"What the fuck is that?" Heejin asks, pulling you from her mouth with a sloppy 'pop'.

The bang on the door happens again, more frantic this time.

"The fuck do they think they're—" Heejin groans in frustration. She wipes the cum and spit from her lips and chin with the back of her arm. "You have to tell whoever that is to fuck off."

"I, uh, yeah." You pull up your boxers, leaving your trousers open, you prepare to peek your head around the door and let the asshole who's ruining the moment know to get lost. You pull it open to just a crack, enough to bark out a bunch of curses, but you're taken aback by what you see:

Yuna.

"Yuna?" You blink a few times, trying to make sure it's not some delusion. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

"I— uh," Yuna stutters, looking a bit uncomfortable. She takes a deep breath, composes herself, and looks you directly in the eye. "Can I come in? I need to talk to you."

"Um, now's not a really good time." You glance over your shoulder, and you see Heejin perched on the edge of your bed. Her legs are crossed and her skirt is so far up her leg it's revealing the entirety of one thigh and just a little of her ass. She has her school shirt pulled a bit too low, giving an even better glimpse of her cleavage.

"It won't take a minute," Yuna quickly says. She tries to give you an imploring, and a pleading, look. "Please? I have an offer for you."

"Okay, um." You glance over your shoulder again. Heejin raises her eyebrows, looking amused. You bite your lip.

Yuna is staring at you with as much focus and persistence as she can muster. "I promise my offer is better than hers."

How the fuck do these girls seem to know everything? "Yuna—"

"I know she's in there, don't play dumb."

There's no denying it now, she knows.

"What the fuck are you doing in his room?" Yuna calls out to Heejin.

"Thought that was obvious," Heejin replies from behind you.

"You're—"

"Doing exactly what you wanted to do!" Heejin calls out to interrupt her.

Yuna goes quiet for a second, and then she holds out her hands. "Let me in."

"Yuna, listen, we're kinda in the middle of something," you protest.

"You were. You aren't anymore. I came along and now you have an offer to listen to, right? So let me in." Yuna is insistent. "Now."

You sigh and take a step back to let her pass.

She wastes no time. She walks right past you and into your room, heads straight for Heejin, and glares down at her. "So, is this how you planned to win? Sucking him off? A blowjob? Really?"

Heejin smirks and doesn't seem ashamed. If anything, it almost seems like a challenge.

"Okay. Whatever," Yuna goes on. "We're here now. We're all three together. And—" She turns her head and looks right at you. "—you're choosing one of us. Right here, right now." Yuna drops to her knees, her dark eyes locked onto yours as she pleads through them. She unbuttons her shirt completely and lets it fall off her arms. Underneath is a lingerie bra that holds her full breasts, its fabric thin and mostly see-through. "I'm better than her," she pleads.

There's no shame, no embarrassment. She's offering up her body in the name of competition. Her confidence has outpaced her modesty, and she doesn't care. Her body is on display, and she's daring you to look.

"Not really convincing enough," Heejin says dryly, leaning back, with one eyebrow raised.

You're still reeling—utterly astonished by this whole situation—by how absurd it's become. Everything is escalating so quickly, and your mind can barely keep up. These two beauties are squaring off against each other, a contest of sex to see who gets the status they crave. They both want the valedictorian position. Both students with the best grades and perfect attendance managed to find time to lead school societies and run after-school clubs.

Now, they've come to you for the deciding vote. They are both offering up their bodies, their most valuable assets, to earn it. A bit silly. A strange plan.

There's this mixture of amusement and disgust on Heejin's face as she looks over Yuna. This sort of derisive curl of her lip, combined with a half-hearted roll of her eyes. "Wasn't sure you had it in you, to be honest." She lays back against the bed, adjusting her skirt, letting the hem rise even higher on her legs. "Don't get me wrong, I always had you pegged as a bit of a slut."

Yuna just about manages not to show her outrage. "Yeah? You're the whore spreading her legs."

Heejin gives a small laugh, and again she shrugs and doesn't seem fazed. It's like she's unbothered by the insult like it's little more than a light breeze against her skin. "Just playing the game. Just like you, right?"

"This is crazy," you announce. "If the principal found out you're both in my room—"

"—this stays between the three of us," Heejin says, standing up.

"Yeah," Yuna echoes. She's still on her knees, the straps of her lingerie hanging from her shoulders, the shirt thrown on the floor, her plump breasts bare and exposed. "We don't tell anyone what happens here."

"Fuck," you breathe out. "You're serious."

Both girls nod.

They both want it, and they're prepared to do anything to get it. This rivalry is such a natural part of who they are, and who they've always been. How neither was able to stop the other or to find a better way to resolve things, is all connected back to what they must think is inevitable about themselves. They aren't friends, the two of them. Heejin and Yuna, they also aren't simply just competitors—rivals—those words don't go far enough, to explain their relationship. It's one of such dedication and passion, such pride and achievement, that to have someone matching every accomplishment, every grade, every victory, must drive them mad.

You remember watching a nature program once, something about wildlife, some documentary explaining how two aspiring leaders of a pride ended up locked in a rivalry. Though you can't quite remember all the details, something about a rift forming and how things had spiralled out of control between them. If only there was a way for them to live in harmony, some animal expert would have said at the end of the show, sadly shaking his head.

You look at the two of them. Harmony is a million miles away.

Yuna takes you by the hand, pulling your fingers and inviting you to touch her. Her hands guide yours, moving them over the curve of her breasts, and her soft, warm, skin. Her chest rises and falls steadily under your palm, and you caress her, touch her, cup her. You move one hand up, running over the length of her neck, up her jaw, to her cheeks and her ears. You brush her hair out of the way with your thumb, and she shifts forward. Her dark eyes are staring up at you, and you feel a shock run through your body.

"I swear I'm so much better than her," Yuna promises, in the quietest voice you've ever heard. It's soft, but there's also an intensity to it, a persistence like a raindrop hitting stone. "Trust me."

Pursed lips near the tip of your cock. Yuna's warm breath kisses the tip. She moves her tongue up, licking across your head. She's different to Heejin, more tentative, slower, and focused entirely on the feeling. Her touch is more gentle, less ferocious and domineering. When she takes you into her mouth, you can feel the sensation of her carefully tracing your length with the tip of her tongue, coiling you up inside, making you tingle, sparks coursing through your spine.

Yuna is watching you closely, her gaze not straying from your face for one second, as if she's so eager to see your reactions to her touch. Her gaze is focused, and intense, and she appears satisfied with how you're enjoying yourself. It feels incredible. Something about the eye contact, her attentive and focused style, and the way her lips glide up and down with pure reverence, is driving you crazy.

Heejin is behind you, trying to draw your attention. One of her arms wraps around your torso, her hand stroking across your front, exploring and exploring, her fingernails dragging over you in teasing lines. The heat of her breath hits your ear, hot enough to make you shiver, and you suddenly feel her bite your lobe. She knows where to attack, and she starts raining kisses along the side of your neck. Small nips and nibbles. Up to your jaw, tracing lines of heat along your skin. On your ear, her soft, red lips, suckling, her teeth leave little marks. When she sees your eyes are still on Yuna, a throaty, husky, disapproving purr in your ear. "Oh no you don't. Pay attention to me."

Her slender fingers tug at your jaw, turning you towards her. Kisses rain down on your mouth, not satisfied until her lips are plastered across yours. She strokes the tip of her tongue across your own, inviting you to taste, to explore. Her kiss makes you quiver inside, almost melting you, making every part of you tremble and weaken.

But it's when Yuna caresses you further, her hands finding your ass and grabbing tight, dragging your cock deep into her throat. The sound that erupts from you only spurs her on further.

You hear Heejin murmur quietly into your ear while running her hand through your hair, "Enjoying this?"

You swallow, taking a moment to compose yourself. You open your mouth to speak, only for your tongue to trip over an answer.

"I'm sure she's great and all," Heejin continues, "but you want the best, right?" She plants another kiss on your mouth, giving you a tempting taste, and keeping you close. "You must miss how much better I am."

Yuna's efforts begin to escalate, hearing the conversation continue. Determination has been written over her face. Now, however, her eyes dart up to glare at her competitor. It's cute, seeing how hard she's trying.

Heejin slips one of her hands under Yuna's cheek, her nails scratching lightly, scraping down her chin. She hooks them underneath and guides the girl's head, forcing Yuna's movement to stop. You can feel the subtle vibrations of Yuna letting out an annoyed groan.

"I bet you're not even close, are you? You can't cum from this, right?" Heejin's voice is soft and saccharine, dripping with mock sincerity.

"You're trying to piss her off," you point out.

"Good," Heejin drawls. "Does it piss her off, knowing that it's me who can finish the job?"

A frustrated Yuna ducks her head free from Heejin and takes you back into her mouth, starting anew, trying to prove something to someone. She's different now, you notice. Feistier, and more insistent. No more gentle, careful movements. She's moved on from worship, now charging through to ravish. She takes you hard, quickly, and thoroughly. There is an unrelenting pace to her. No patience, no playing, just the relentless need to do. She pulls and pushes, pressing and sucking, burying her nose at the base.

You wince at the heat, the slickness, how her tongue now massages you as her lips firmly embrace you. She's gripping hard at your ass, driving you onto her tongue. The warmth of her breath against your flesh is impossible to ignore. Hot breaths, soft and humid, leave goosebumps on your skin.

This new attitude has gotten the better of you. You can't help but give in. Threads of pleasure entwine up the length of your spine, each sharp twist of Yuna's mouth drawing the sweetest song out of you. Heejin has stolen your voice as a chorus is crawling up your throat, and you can barely hope to keep it down.

There's no stopping you, the finish is inevitable. You move to pull out, to stop yourself, yet Yuna swallows around you in response, taking you deeper into her waiting throat. Not a hint of an intention to let go. No, Yuna refuses to stop until you've emptied every single drop inside.

Heejin still won't relent, either. She kisses a constellation on your shoulder, up the side of your neck, her sweet caresses are lingering, teasing your flesh, dancing fingertips that burn in the best way. It doesn't do anything to soothe the tension inside.

You fill her mouth, flooding her with thick ropes. You can't imagine what it might feel like, all that hot fluid sliding down into her stomach. Once, then twice, then a third time, you spill inside, shuddering and groaning in release.

Yuna drags a heavy breath. It's not even over, as she's already trying to take you deeper. "Mm," Yuna moans, her voice trembling. She nuzzles forward, eagerly coaxing what's left, accepting the remaining throbs against her tongue, swallowing when she has to. You shiver at how she seems so hungry for every drop, her strength only seems to grow the more she drinks. She finally lets you out of her mouth with a pop and flashes a grin.

"So nice of her to finish what I started," Heejin quips and Yuna glares at her. "After I did all the work."

"Maybe you should've finished the job instead of talking shit," Yuna throws back.

Heejin tilts her head a little. "I have much better ideas. Want to see?" She smirks.

Heejin sits on the edge of your desk, reaching out to take your hand. She presses your palm to her chest, just above her breast, her uniform top exposing a tantalizing window of skin.

You look at her. Her eyes. The shape of her face, the sharp lines of her jaw, the elegant arch of her brows, the curve of her nose. The pretty rosy tint in her cheeks. Then her mouth. Her bitten lips, the long neck, the exposed part of her chest. Heejin knows how to pull you in.

Your mind is blank, just fixated on her, how gorgeous she looks. She's pulling open her shirt, unbuttoning it, unhooking her bra. She's undressing, putting herself on display, only for you. It's entrancing.

Her body is perfect, lean and toned, the sculpted muscle and firm curves making her look like a piece of art. Beautiful. Then her legs, perfect thighs, the muscles not too built, but trim and taut, soft to the touch.

She bunches her skirt at her waist, exposing her panties, those small scraps of silken fabric, almost see-through, the threads clinging to the contours of her hips and the mound between her legs. Heejin draws her hand there, exploring the smooth cloth, the delicate lingerie highlighting the body underneath.

She slips her thumb below the edge of the fabric, her fingers following, before she peels them down her legs, shuffling them past her thighs and her knees and kicking them off her feet. Her bare skin is tantalizing, her body like a vision of unknown riches. "Do you like what you see?" she asks, her voice pure silk.

"What the fuck?" It's Yuna's exclamation, and the shock inside it, which makes you tear your gaze away. She is sitting on the floor, in her dishevelled uniform, pieces of clothing half-unbuttoned and hanging off her. "Is there a limit? How far are you going to go?"

"I told you, I have ideas," Heejin emphasises the plurality. She's completely unabashed, and without hesitation, she pulls you by the scruff of your shirt, towards her. A handful of you, drawing you between her legs, and then laying her lips on your skin. Traces of kisses on your chest, the brush of her tongue, her lips, her teeth. Words spoken against your body with hot breath, "Don't mind her. Enjoy me, instead."

It's like being drawn into the ocean. Heejin is pulling you in. Her serenity becomes calming and comforting, and there's no way to escape the feeling. She locks her legs around your hips, her hands grasping and caressing you. Nails digging into your skin and trailing along it. Each pull and tug on you is possessive. You run your hands over her skin. Soft thigh, plump breast, toned waist. Each part is addictive, and you can't decide which to take. You caress her face, running your hand over her cheek, letting her dark eyes shine with affection as she smiles, lifting her head to steal a kiss.

Yuna, the frustrated voyeur, can only watch as you grind yourself against Heejin, rubbing yourself along the sodden line between her legs. With each pass, her fluids cover the tip, smearing them and soaking the end. Each roll gets harder to fight, your instincts telling you to rush the heat into something more.

"There we go," Heejin murmurs. "No need to rush. Take your time. Enjoy me," she insists, encouraging you, "and I can show you just how much I can please you."

Tender. Gentle. This isn't some quick fuck, this is Heejin spoiling you. Worship, desire, lust. Each glance into her eyes sends a bolt of thrill into your gut, and your length continues to swell. Your mind becomes more and more intoxicated with each fresh coat, your cock aching, slowly and frustratingly sinking into her. You hold her thighs, lift them, and drag her closer. She squeaks with your grip, her body shuddering with one steady breath. "Mm, yes," she groans.

"Take me," she begs, and it's a plea that you simply cannot resist. A shuddering sigh of her pleasure at last releases, her head tilting back in an agonising cry. You slide as deep as you can go. No. Deeper. Your pace is agonising. Too slow. Far, far too slow. You grind into her, taking every chance to relish how her body clenches around you.

You know why she's doing this. Why she wants you to focus on her and forget about the other girl in the room. Why she wants to convince you, with every stroke of your cock inside, that she's the one who deserves it most. Yuna might have made you climax, but Heejin? Heejin has you mesmerised. Every twitch of her inner walls against you feels exquisite. Addictive. You want nothing more than to plunge into her again and again, desperate to take it all, all the wet, wonderful friction. Your grip on her hips tightens, holding her close as your bodies collide.

Yuna lets out a sound of frustration and disappointment. Her lips hang parted, unable to believe what she's seeing, gazing on as you are slowly overtaken. The two of you panting. Squeaking gasps from Heejin. Your own groans and grunts. Yuna mutters something, glaring daggers into the pair of you, though her words don't fully register in your mind.

"Mmm..." Heejin breathes, and with another squeeze, she guides your hands up to her chest. You massage her breasts, tracing shapes around her nipples. Your fingers trail and play and press, cupping and squeezing and massaging. Heejin melts into you, gasping for air, her body tingling. She moans a long, languid sigh of bliss, then bites down on her bottom lip.

The motions are so languid, every instant stretching out forever. Heejin's petite body feels so tender beneath you, so pliable. Like it was designed to be adored. Your every thrust is answered by hers, your bodies coming together as one.

When Heejin's fingernails dig into your shoulder blades, urging you closer, you grab her face. You tilt it upward, toward you. Her dark brown eyes meet yours.

Then her body shivers, quakes, stiffens, and spasms. The tight, squeezing depths within her constrict, compressing you. She holds onto you even harder than before. Her teeth bite down on her lip. A yelp turns into a whimper, which turns into a silent cry until all the sensations inside seem to boil over. She writhes in orgasm, her body racked by waves of euphoria, unable to control her reaction. She clings tightly, and the waves of ecstasy ripple outwards, travelling throughout her entire frame. Even her voice is distorted. Her breath catches and she quivers, gasping loudly. She struggles, her grip on you tightening, her body twisting and contorting as she shakes violently.

And you would be excused for thinking that would be it. That her delicate little body could take no more.

But you would be wrong.

She's snaking her fingers into your hair, drawing you to her as she falls flat against the desk. You're over her now. You're fucking her, down against the wood of the desk, nails digging into her thighs. She writhes and whines beneath you, her pants unashamed and delightfully arousing, her red face begging for more.

She's beautiful. All long limbs, dark eyes, soft skin, the supple flesh yielding under your rough treatment.

"Give me everything you've got," she taunts, and she's about to say more, it's on the tip of her tongue, but when you hook her leg and pull it over your shoulder, it cuts off her next retort, and suddenly the only sounds in the room are those of pleasure.

Faster, harder. Heejin has shown off enough, flaunting the kind of sexual prowess you never expected from the quiet girl who always sat at the front of the class.

Then again, it's always the quiet ones...

Yuna's still here. Watching. Enthralled, but also furious. Her hands clutch her skirt, balling the fabric in her fists. She wants to march over to the two of you and kick Heejin aside. She wants to scream her frustrations and push the interloper out of the way. And she wants you to fuck her the same way you did Heejin, so you can compare and find her superior.

Her fists clench to leave bloody crescents in her palm, teeth grit hard and grind. It's not jealousy, Yuna would deny it. She's never been jealous of anything Heejin does or has, because Yuna's always had what she needs and then some. Except tonight.

"Fuck you both!" She declares, indignant, but the pair of you pay her no heed.

And that only infuriates Yuna more.

"I'll report the two of you. This is fucked up!"

Even as you pound her, Heejin has just enough presence to dismiss her with a laugh inter-laden into her moans. "Report yourself for sucking him off, too."

There's nothing else she can say, no barbed insults or derisive statements she can fling at either of you. So she grabs her shirt off the floor and leaves in a huff. The sound of the slamming door rings through the room, like the period to a sentence.

It just allows you and Heejin to go even harder.

Soon the world closes in around you. Only the thumping desk remains, only the frantic rhythm of your bodies pounding against each other, only her tiny moans, muffled into the crease of her elbow, only her clenching pussy as she convulses, trembling. Her tight, warm walls flutter as they enclose your cock, milking every inch, rippling in rhythmic spasms.

You need a moment. To take a breath, gather your thoughts. You're nearly spent, so you change your tact.

You pull her from the desk and turn her to its edge. "I like the way you think," she coos, then sprawls herself against it. Her chest pressed against the wood. Her cute little ass presented in all its glory, begging for attention. It fits into your palms like perfection. Each soft cheek moulds itself to you, filling up your grip perfectly. She squirms a bit, enticingly, pushing her hips backwards against you as if she's afraid you might lose interest.

You enter her once more.

A squeak leaves her lips. It's so adorable. Cute. But also hot as fuck.

Tight body, tight cunt. A tiny little thing, yet somehow able to withstand your assault. Her slender frame jolts with the impact of each thrust.

You slap against her flesh, sending ripples through her skin. Her cute butt. The arch of her back. You grab her there, at the waist—that slutty little waist—and hold onto her tightly while you sink inside. Over and over. Relentless.

She twists, her nails dragging across the desk's surface, scrambling for purchase. Her eyes roll back and her legs buckle, a hoarse wail breaking from her throat. She looks like she's possessed, her features drawn into an ecstatic rictus. She cries out as the sensations overwhelm her. You can feel it happening. Since her unravelling.

"Yes, fuck," Heejin sputters. "Give me what I want."

And you don't know exactly what she means by that. Is it your cock or is it the title, but who are you to complain?

Then it comes, rushing at you like a tidal wave. You fall down on top of her, her delicate body straining underneath you. "Cum," she whimpers.

So you pin her there, under you, and empty yourself inside her. Your whole body sings, shaking uncontrollably as you unload.

"How was it?" Heejin giggles. "To fuck the future valedictorian?" Asked with the confidence that it was a foregone conclusion.

-

Decision day comes. It's been two days since you finished inside Heejin as a form of agreement, and two days since you last spoke to Yuna. It's all hostile stares and annoyed mutterings.

You feel bad. The fact that this whole thing devolved into some sordid exchange of sexual favours really gnaws at you. It doesn't sit well. You knew Yuna liked you, she never kept it a secret. In fact, it's cute that she was trying so hard to impress you. It all felt a little earnest, compared to Heejin's ruthless manner.

You've woken this morning with a conclusion that is quite frankly the easy way out. Yuna hasn't tried to argue it, she just keeps her scowl and glares from afar, like you're the antichrist. Meanwhile, Heejin gives a satisfied smile whenever you look her way.

At least this madness will end. You'll see your father today, give him the decision, and forget all of this, or try your hardest to.

First, you need to get out of bed, though, throw off these duvet covers and stand. Stretching gives some relief to the back, and it perks you up. A shower, breakfast, and some coffee—the standard routine. After that, it's clean clothes and a walk to the office.

That's how it should be, anyway.

You're still in only your underwear when there's a knock on your door.

"Give me a minute! Hang on," you call.

The doorknob rattles but doesn't open. Then there's the hammering of a palm against the wood. Impatient. Persistent. Another rattle of the doorknob.

You concede. Wearing nothing more than your underwear, you poke your head around the door and peek out of the opening.

There, arms folded, impatient foot tapping the floor, is Yuna. "I need to talk to you," she says, brow furrowed and serious.

"What's—"

Yuna tries to push the door but your body is blocking it.

"Yuna, I need a minute to—"

"—we need to talk." Her tone is urgent and agitated. She's not angry, exactly.

You relent. This sounds important. Maybe you've misjudged things. "Okay, okay, come in."

"Finally," she sighs, stepping past you and heading straight for the chair by the desk.

As you shut the door, she turns her gaze onto you. The intensity of her eyes, the depth, like swirling galaxies within a cloudless night sky.

"Yuna... I didn't think you wanted to see me, not after everything that happened."

"Yeah, I've thought a lot about that actually," she tells you. Her eyes don't leave you, roaming across your body. "We both wanted the same thing, but Heejin got there first. Today's the day, isn't it? Decision day. Your dad's going to want an answer." She's wearing her uniform again, freshly pressed, the white blouse starched and stiff, the skirt just skimming her knees.

"I was going to head over soon, actually."

"So it's not too late?"

"Too late for?"

"One final twist." Yuna reaches up to loosen the tie of her blouse. One by one, she starts working her way through the buttons, popping each one through the buttonholes. "How about we revisit the competition?"

"You can't be serious?" You ask, but you watch as she slips the shirt off her arms. Then she's reaching to undo the catch of her bra—soft blue lace cupping her full breasts. She peels the cups down and flicks the bra aside, revealing her perfect chest.

"I'm deadly serious." Yuna stands.

The arousal rises in you quickly, and you can feel yourself getting hard. There's no hiding it, and Yuna notices immediately, a smirk breaking across her pretty face. Yuna takes the opportunity, steps closer, and plants a palm against your abdomen. She trails her fingers down to trace the outline of your cock against your boxers, the thin material not hiding anything. A small laugh.

"There we go, now you're paying attention." She wraps her fingers around you through the material. It's electrifying, having her touch you like this. Her hands are small and delicate, but her grip is firm. She moves her palm up and down, stroking you gently and enticing you.

Your breath catches in your throat, the tension growing as she plays with your dick. "Yuna..." you manage, your heart pounding, your palms clammy.

"Do you like that?" she teases, her thumb brushing across the tip of your head through the cloth.

All you can do is nod, your mind hazy with lust, your legs weak. She grins, a predatory twinkle in her eye. She moves forward, pushing you backwards onto the bed, your legs buckling under the surprise assault. You land flat on your back, and Yuna looks down at you.

"Can I be honest with you?" she asks as she pushes her fingers into the waistband of her skirt. She slips it down, revealing her matching blue panties.

"Yeah?" you reply, unable to keep your gaze off her body.

"I've always kinda had a thing for you," she admits, "and it's kind of annoying that it takes some stupid shit like this for me to say something. But I've also kinda hated that Heejin got a hold of you, like, in a weird way, she won because she was braver than me."

"Braver? What does that have to do with—"

"—she wasn't scared to let you fuck her," Yuna interrupts. She steps forward until she's standing above you. "Guess what?" Her question is rhetorical. She hooks her fingers into her underwear and slips them down her smooth thighs. "It's my turn."

She's beautiful. Flawless skin, toned muscles, and perfect curves. Every detail of her is meticulously crafted, like a sculpture by an old master. It's hard not to stare. Your eyes are fixed on hers as she crawls onto the bed. The mattress dips, and you shuffle up the sheets, unsure where to put yourself as she straddles you.

"Look all you want." Yuna lowers herself down. She places her palms against your chest, pinning you, and lowers down further. You feel a warm heat press itself against your groin. The wetness soaking into the fabric. She begins to slowly grind herself against you, rubbing herself against your erection. "Have I ever told you about my dance classes?" she asks with a smirk, her hips swaying back and forth. She grinds herself against you in a rhythmic, slow, pattern, and the sensation is so intense and pleasurable that you groan. "I'm really good with my hips. Really good."

Yuna keeps going, her body swaying and grinding, and your underwear grows wetter. It's torturously good, the friction from her pussy, the wet heat against your length. It's impressive to watch the way her body rolls, the precision, the control.

Eventually, she slows, smiling slyly. Her fingers trace their way down your abdomen, down your stomach, and hook into the waistband of your boxers. With a slight tug, she pulls them down, freeing your hardness from its confines. She leans forward again, positioning herself above you, ready to descend.

This feels a little unreal. You never expected it to happen, nor did you ever expect her to be this assertive. "Yuna..."

"Relax," she says, lowering herself. She holds you in place. "Honestly, even if you still choose Heejin later, I won't care. I just needed to do this."

Then she lets gravity drop her and there's a sudden pressure around your length, her warmth encasing you, her muscles wrapping around you. Her head tips back slightly and her expression softens as she exhales. The feeling is incredible, and your groans echo hers. The tightness around your cock, the warmth and moistness, and the sight of her perfect naked form on top of you.

Yuna wastes no time, she lifts herself, rolling her hips up, and then slides back down. Her breathing becomes louder, more ragged. You reach out to grab her, your hands instinctively moving to her sides to pull her down into you. She welcomes the grip, biting her lower lip as you pull her into you, her breath coming in quick bursts.

"Does that feel good?" she asks, her voice husky, her body rocking against you.

"It feels amazing," you reply, your hands roaming up to squeeze her breasts.

A soft laugh escapes her as she shifts her weight back and forth, riding you, controlling the rhythm and pace. She's practised and precise like every movement is part of a well-rehearsed routine. "Better than Heejin?" she asks.

"You're incredible," you gasp, grabbing her tighter. The words seem to spur her on further, and she picks up speed. Each movement sends a ripple of pleasure through your body. She's in complete control, dictating the pace, deciding how deep, how hard, and how fast. You've given yourself completely over to her, allowing her to use you as she wants, to ride you however she pleases.

"That's good," she hums, picking up her pace. "I'll do my best for you."

She shifts again, leaning back slightly, changing the angle. She bounces, her breasts swaying with every rise and fall. She has found the perfect spot. "Oh fuck yes!" you hiss, your hands grasping at her thighs and body arching upwards.

"Mmmm," she moans, picking up the tempo. She's riding you now, fast and hard, sweat forming on her brow. "Fuck!" Her curse is rare, strange coming from her mouth, but it's welcome, especially as it's followed by her panting harder.

The room is filled with the sounds of slapping skin and heavy breaths. The air is thick with the scent of sex. You're both sweating, grunting, panting.

As great of a spectacle, as breathtaking a sight, she is, it's a constant struggle. You get so close to bursting into her, only for her to feel it coming, take a moment of pause, slow to a grind and adjust her position again, denying you of an ending. She's teasing you, playing you, keeping you on edge.

You want nothing more than to throw her down, kneel behind her and rail her until you cum deep into her, to hold her tight while you fill her up. Yet, despite how easily you could, how simple it would be to move her and shove her to the bed and do whatever you wanted, you can't do it. Something about watching her is mesmerising, and you can't take your eyes away. You watch her move, how her muscles flex with each rock and roll, how her breasts jiggle and shake with each bounce, how her head tilts back, her eyelids flutter and how her teeth bite on her bottom lip. The sight is far too powerful, far too thrilling, to break away from.

It must be plastered all over your face, the need, because she says, "You can't cum inside, it's not safe, but," and she gives that wicked smile once again, "I have an idea." She drags herself off of you, and then she turns around and bends over, facing away from you, exposing herself, her pussy soaked and glistening. You get the picture.

Then she hits her own ass. An open-palmed slap right across it, making the supple flesh ripple, a red mark stinging bright on her otherwise pale complexion. "Like what you see?" Yuna coos.

"Absolutely," you reply.

She sways her hips side-to-side, a small enticement. "Good." She lowers her hips, settling her cheeks on either side of your cock. Her hand pulls you between them, and as she shakes her ass side to side, Yuna lets out a satisfied chuckle. Then she begins to move, back and forth, sliding you between her cheeks. She grips and squeezes you tightly, using her own ass as a toy.

There's something raw and dirty about it. The way she rubs you with her cheeks, squeezing and pressing you into the cleft between them. Her skin is smooth and silky, her ass perfectly round and perky. It's intoxicating—addictive. Every time she squeezes, you feel that build-up inside you grow hotter. A boiling sensation, searing through your veins. It feels so good, but it's still not enough. You want more.

Yuna knows this isn't enough, and there's only one thing you would wish for her to do next. She pushes her hand between her legs, taking hold of your shaft firmly. Then, slowly, deliberately, she spreads her buttocks with one hand while guiding you between them with the other. The anticipation builds until she finally presses your cockhead against her asshole.

It's tight. Very, very tight. There's some initial resistance as she tries to force herself down onto you, but she's patient. Slow. Inch by inch, she sinks downwards. Soon, the tip of your cock slips into her, causing her to groan in discomfort, biting down on her lip to keep quiet, but she refuses to stop.

You can only watch as she draws your cock into her ass, stretching and adjusting to fit. She gasps, her eyes wide, her expression contorted. She takes a moment to collect herself, before sinking even further, taking more of you into her ass. You marvel at how her tight hole stretches to accommodate you. You've never felt anything like this before; the tightness is unlike any other sensation.

As Yuna continues to sink down, she begins to shudder with pain and discomfort. She's struggling. You place your hand on her ass, rubbing and caressing it, encouraging her. Yuna lets out a long breath, her head hanging down, sweat dripping from her brow. You're barely halfway in but she's rocking her hips and groaning.

"I want you to cum inside," she whispers, her voice hoarse, almost desperate, looking over her shoulder. Her back is arched where her waist narrows, the definition in her muscles more pronounced from the effort.

"You sure?" you ask, gripping her hips tightly.

She nods frantically, her hair falling into her face. Her hands grip the bedsheets tightly. She pushes herself down, finding a rhythm, pushing and pulling. You help, using your grip to guide her, but you're careful not to hurt her. She starts to pick up speed, working herself up and down, taking more and more of you into her with each pass.

It's intense, watching her work, seeing her concentrate so hard. Eventually she relaxes, her body less tense. She's adjusted to the sensation now, getting used to having you buried in her, and she seems to enjoy it. You find yourself lost in the beauty of her body, her slim figure, her narrow waist, her taut ass and toned thighs, the way she moves with such purpose and grace. Even under stress, her poise shines through.

She begins to move faster, rocking her hips, pulling you deeper into her ass. Her movements become smoother and more fluid. Each time she sinks down onto you, she groans loudly. She's loving it, her eyes closed, her mouth open in strained pleasure. You hear her muttering things under her breath, like "Yes" and "fuck." Each time she says it, you can't help but smile. She's really enjoying herself. You love the sound of it.

Her walls cling to you tightly, her tight hole squeezing you firmly. Every time she rocks her hips, it sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, building, pulsing, and growing, until finally, your muscles clench. She grunts in exertion, her arms straining, her body trembling, and you grip her ass hard enough to mark her fair skin with fingerprints.

You hold her in place and you cum. Your dick spasms within her, filling her with hot liquid. You groan loudly as your hips buck wildly beneath her, spilling deep inside. The pleasure surges through every fibre of your being. When you're finally spent, you collapse back onto the bed. You're completely drained. Exhausted. You lie there, staring at the ceiling, your chest heaving, trying desperately to catch your breath.

Yuna is quick to join you, "That was so hot," she pants.

She doesn't say much else, catching her breath. While you're lost in the stars you're seeing, she rolls onto her side and brushes a stray hair from your face. It's affectionate and cute. Soft. Her dark eyes search yours and a playful smile appears on her lips. She reaches out to touch your cheek, tracing its curves before moving to stroke your chin.

"I meant it. I don't care if you still choose Heejin," she murmurs, the satisfaction evident in her voice. Her touch is light, tickling and tingling on your skin, like she's admiring a fine piece of art.

-

The question inevitably comes, with casual ease, the coffee mug halfway to your lips(where it pauses while you ponder). You take a sip, then place the cup down. A look into his eyes, and you give a simple answer.

"Good choice," he nods, offering no sincerity. Just a solemn acknowledgement. "Will be a nice ceremony. You should wear something smart." There's that nod again, dismissive. He puts his reading glasses on and peers back at his documents. More scribbles. As if the whole thing was nothing.

[wendichester]

⋆˙⟡ fbi, open up!

summary. the fbi shows up at your door. these agents are a little... unconventional.

pairing. sam + dean winchester x civil!reader genre. idek. just weird

wordcount. 736

notes / warnings. trauma and early seasons typical dean winchester flirting. beware.

You don’t even get the door halfway open before a badge flashes in your face.

“FBI,” the taller one says, all business. He’s got that too-handsome-to-trust kind of face—sharp jaw, kind eyes, hair that’s one shake away from a shampoo commercial.

The other one’s already sizing you up, less polite about it. His badge lowers slower. “Agent Bonham,” he adds, smirking. “This is my partner, Agent Allman.”

You blink. “Like... the Allman Brothers?”

Agent Bonham—clearly the cockier one—winks. “Big fans.”

You lean on the doorframe, still in your pajamas, coffee half-made in the kitchen, murder still raw in your mind. “Right. The FBI’s really sending classic rock stans door to door now?”

Agent Allman—Sam, according to the badge he flashed—gives his partner a look. You file it away as interesting, not incriminating. Yet.

“We just need to ask a few questions,” Sam says, voice calm, like he’s afraid you might bolt. He’s not wrong.

You step aside. “If it gets you out of the hallway before Mrs. Crenshaw across the hall calls the HOA about ‘suspicious men,’ go for it.”

They walk in. Dean—aka Agent Bonham, which you're almost 100% sure is under a fake name—starts nosing around like he owns the place. Sam stays close to the door, watching you like he’s already piecing you together.

“I already talked to the cops,” you say, flopping onto the couch. “Said everything I knew.”

“Humor us,” Sam replies. And the way he says it... it doesn’t sound like protocol. It sounds like concern. Or curiosity. Or both.

You sigh, running your fingers through your hair. “Fine. My boss—Greg—was a nightmare. Walked around like he was untouchable. Screamed at interns, made everyone miserable. So yeah, not exactly mourning him.”

Dean raises a brow. “So you don’t miss him.”

“About as much as I miss dial-up internet.”

He snorts. Sam’s lips twitch but don’t crack a smile.

“But,” you add, voice dropping as the memory crawls its way back to the front of your mind, “what I saw... it wasn’t right.”

Dean straightens a little. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you say slowly, as if saying it out loud makes it sound crazier, “I saw something pull him out of his office. Something tall. Human-shaped. But the sounds it made—”

You pause, trying to find the words that don’t make you sound insane. “They weren’t normal.”

Sam leans in, eyes soft. “What kind of sounds?”

“Like... clicking. Bones snapping. Wet breathing. Like a person with a broken rib cage trying to growl.” You shiver. “It didn’t talk. Not exactly. But it wasn’t quiet either.”

The agents exchange a look. Quick. Subtle. But definitely something.

You catch it. Your stomach knots. “You’ve heard that before?”

Dean’s mouth opens, then closes again. Sam gives you a careful shrug. “We’ve heard a lot of things.”

“Okay, well, I’m not saying it was some... demon monster whatever, alright? I’m just saying... it was weird. And I’m still trying to convince myself it had a really bad cold and I was in shock. That’s all.”

Dean gives a low whistle. “That’s some shock.”

“You weren’t there,” you shoot back.

There’s a silence. Not awkward. Just loaded.

Then Dean, ever the charmer, drops onto the arm of the couch. “So, you got a boyfriend who can vouch for you that night? Alibis are stronger when they come from someone who doesn’t sleep in your succulent shelf.”

You raise a brow. “That’s your opener? Really?”

Sam coughs. You glance at him, and he looks away—but not fast enough to hide the smirk threatening his lips.

You point between them. “Do all FBI agents flirt with witnesses?”

“Only the hot ones,” Dean says, deadpan.

Sam mutters, “Unbelievable.”

You laugh—finally. The sound feels foreign in your throat, like it doesn’t quite belong yet. But it’s there.

Dean winks. “Hey, if you remember anything else, call us. Day or night. Especially night.”

You snort. “That sounded less FBI, more Tinder.”

But when Sam hands you the card, his fingers brush yours. Just a little. Just enough.

He doesn’t say much, but the look he gives you? It sticks.

And you? You’re still not convinced the thing you saw was real. Still clinging to logic. But something about them feels just as strange.

You watch them go, heart racing a little faster than you’d like.

You want to believe it’s just adrenaline.

But part of you—small, scared, stubborn—knows better.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[imsosleepyofyourbull]

I firmly believe that Kabru is autistic but masks so hard that he’s convinced himself and (almost) everyone around him that he’s neurotypical.

That man’s special interest is people and how they work, but he just thinks it’s him Being So Good At Socializing — like he doesn’t spend 95% of his time people watching and adjusting his personality in response to the traits he witnesses and obsessing over the intricacies of human interaction while mapping an ever growing relationship chart in his head. For fun. He even admits it in the manga!

Like, look at him!!!

It’s such a shame that — because he’s the narrative foil to Laios and his interest is generally considered more “socially acceptable” in both their world and our own — more people don’t realize this about him. He’s constantly misinterpreted as a horribly manipulative person who only acts the way he does to use the people around him, when that’s explicitly shown to not be the case at all. Kabru is naturally empathetic and is almost always thinking about other people, regardless of whether or not they’re right there with him or a thousand miles away.

I mean, his most defining motivation is his desire to do everything he can to avoid another tragedy like the one at Utaya. Someone who doesn’t care wouldn’t have a goal like that, and they most certainly wouldn’t go about it the way he does. He’s constantly working to help people who can help everyone else and tries so hard to make sure that anyone who seems like a threat is actually someone he needs to worry about before doing anything about it. His supposed aversion to Laios is only because of the ridiculous trolley problem he’s set up in his own head.

Outside of that, he (rather justifiably) hates monsters but is desperate to understand Laios’ love for them and his apparently most selfish goal in getting close to the guy was literally just to become friends with him.

When he’s interacting with the canaries and they imply that they’re going to take him and all of his friends to the West, his first thought is of Rin and how much she’d hate to be stuck in the place that gave her so many bad memories.

He helps Kuro learn Common when Mickbell is asleep and firmly looks forward to the day that the half-foot and Kuro can communicate properly so that their relationship can get properly started without any miscommunication.

And he understands Mithrun with only a handful of weeks AT BEST interacting with him, getting enraged when the elf seems to give up and immediately trying to help him find a new motivation for life.

I’m excited just thinking about the day that Kabru starts unmasking more and more around his friends — both new and old — because if being with my current friend group has taught me anything, it’s that hanging out with anyone so unabashedly themselves is bound to make you more comfortable with yourself too. It’s part of the reason why I like Labru so much! There’s something nice about imagining them hanging out in the throne room or laying in the grass outside and talking for hours on end about their special interests. They might not strictly understand what the other finds so fascinating about monsters or people, but they can grasp that shared feeling of love.

They probably influence each other in really good ways too, with Kabru helping Laios figure out what people are thinking even when it doesn’t make sense or Laios helping Kabru understand that not everyone and everything needs to be analyzed a thousand times over. They both get to learn that there are people like them and people who will love them without them ever having to change a thing about themselves. They deserve to know that they’re fine the way they are.

[pigfacedbitch]

First Doesn't Mean Forever

summary : second to none but Annabeth's POV.

word count : 0.9k

type : imagines

pairing/s : Percy Jackson x Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson x Daughter of Hades! Reader.

warning/s : angst

here's my masterlist! along with the Part 1!

Note : Green aesthetic for envy, because that's how Annabeth feels. Along with some dark, devilish vibe. Not going to lie, I have no idea how to end this.

Mention/s : @leo-lvr, @m4n-eat3r, @raysmayhem-72, @jeudieohvjdjtg, @wolfyychan, @heavensenthellsbent, @gabrielle-tia, @icanmeltanigloo, @neonpug, @alexos-stuff.

Annabeth had always been the one who controlled the world around her.

Daughter of Athena, the embodiment of wisdom and intellect, she had always been the strategist, the planner— the one who knew how to handle every situation.

But when she ended things with Percy Jackson, she learned that even she could lose everything.

Not because she didn’t love him anymore. She always would.

Percy wasn’t just a part of her life; he was part of her soul. He was woven into every fiber of her being, a piece she couldn’t rip away, no matter how hard she tried.

Yet, she needed to find out who she was without him.

For so long, she had defined herself by what she built with him, by their bond.

She had been the architect and hero of Olympus. But with Percy beside her for so long, she wondered if she could stand on her own two feet.

Percy never argued. He saw the pain in her eyes, but he didn’t fight her. He simply nodded, his face filled with quiet understanding, a sorrow so deep it almost suffocated her.

At first, being alone felt liberating.

She threw herself into her studies, into her work, into building her own future. She was pursuing her goals, trying to convince herself this was the right thing to do— that she needed to be Annabeth Chase without the weight of Percy Jackson’s name trailing her every step.

But then came the emptiness she wasn’t prepared for— the silence where his laughter used to fill the air, the absence beside her as she walked along the shores of Long Island, the hand that was always holding hers.

And then you arrived.

You, the daughter of Hades, with your wild laughter, your infectious smile, your voice so sweet it made even the campfire seem to dance along with you.

You, who had the uncanny ability to make even the coldest of souls melt under your warmth.

You, who made Percy fall off Blackjack when he first laid eyes on you. The girl who made his nose bleed with a smile, who had him choking on his pizza from laughter, who convinced him to dance in the meadows with the nymphs.

Nico called you the "Sunbeam of the Underworld" and he couldn’t have been more right.

Annabeth watched from the sidelines as you slipped effortlessly into the life she had fought for years to build.

You charmed everyone— not with intellect or manipulation, but with empathy, a carefree spirit that made everyone around you feel seen, understood.

Percy, especially.

She told herself it was fine. She had ended things. Percy deserved to move on. But no matter how much she told herself this, a quiet jealousy stirred inside her— sharp, relentless, impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t even the growing bond between Percy and you that gnawed at her. It was the way you fit into his life. You, with your peaceful, unbothered way of existing, like you didn’t have to prove anything to anyone.

The complete opposite of her.

Annabeth had always been driven— always pushing herself to be better, always striving to do more.

But you? You didn’t try, and yet, with every word and laugh, it was clear you and Percy were two halves of something that made Annabeth’s heart ache in a way she couldn’t escape.

So she made a choice. It wasn’t fair.

She is Annabeth Chase, Percy’s first love. The one who had been there through every battle, every nightmare, every obstacle. She had bled for him, fought for him, stood by him when the world tried to tear them apart.

How could he just forget all of that?

She knew Percy wouldn’t come back on his own. So she made him remember.

She started to spend time with him again— reminding him of their history, their bond, the love they had once shared. She wanted him to know how much she still cared, how much she still loved him. The one who knew him best.

She saw the hesitation in his eyes— the flicker of uncertainty. Torn between the past they shared and the present he was building with someone else.

For a moment, she thought it worked. She thought she had him back.

And you saw it too.

You, who didn’t need to be told anything. You could feel the shift, the tension, the way Annabeth’s presence made Percy falter, made his heart waver. And you knew.

Annabeth could see it in the way your smile faltered, in the way your eyes flickered with discomfort when Annabeth made a comment only she and Percy understood. The way your shoulders tensed whenever Annabeth’s innocent touch seemed to mean more than it should.

And then, one night, when the time felt right, Annabeth made her move. Alone in the woods with Percy, she kissed him.

"Choose me, Percy. You know it’s always been me. Be with me again."

She expected him to kiss her back, to remember what they once had, to feel the way she did. Because this— their first love —was something no one could ever take away. She had to believe that.

But he didn’t.

He just stood there, as if she had shattered something irreparable. There was no warmth, no affection, no return to what once was.

He murmured an apology and walked away.

The next day, she heard you left. And for the first time in weeks, Annabeth felt hope stir inside her. Percy would come back. He had to.

But then Percy disappeared too.

She convinced herself he just needed time, that he was figuring out his feelings, that when the dust settled, he would come back to her, and everything would be right again.

Until Grover gave her the answer she had always feared.

"Percy is looking for (Y/N), Annabeth. She left him a note, and... It wasn't pretty. I've never seen him so distraught. He almost left with just his sword, I had to tackle him down before gathering supplies."

"Where is he now?"

"He traced her to the Underworld, in Hades' palace. He's going there now. I'm so sorry."

You hadn’t fought for him. You hadn’t needed to. You were simply yourself, and that was more than enough for Percy.

He chose you.

Annabeth had never truly lost before. She always found a way to win. But this… this was a loss she didn’t know how to fight.

Now, standing on the edge of the sea, all she could feel was the vast, cold expanse before her.

Once, this water had been Percy— his love, his presence, his devotion. Now, it was just the sea— cold, endless, unforgiving.

For the first time in her life, Annabeth Chase felt like she was drowning, without Percy there to pull her back to the surface.

She'll always be his first.

But first doesn’t mean forever.

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Vuelve a Mí Pt. II

summary: you and joaquin try to reconnect-- it doesn't exactly go as joaquin had hoped, but he hasn't given up just yet.

pairing: joaquin torres x f!reader

wc: 1,727

gif credit: @gaybuckybarnesss

contents: 18+/minors dni, pining, longing, angst, dishonesty (from sma & it his heart is in the best place), KISSING

an: okay we're at it with a part two. i was on the phone with my sister while finishing this and she's convinced me to give yall at least FOUR parts so everyone say thank you j! pls don't ask to be on my taglist if you aren't 18+/have that in your bio <3

vuelve a mí masterlist

You should’ve known better truly. And even though you hadn’t, part of you thinks you should’ve said no. But, when Sam calls begging for your help, insisting that you’re the only person that can get Joaquin to take his meds, you want to help. 

Or so you’d thought. 

When you make it to Joaquin’s place, it’s a little strange. The last time you’d been to his place was because it was your place. And it wasn’t as nice and polished— you didn’t have a doorman when you lived together. Nevertheless, you sign in and head up to his floor in the elevator.

You’ll get in and get out. Implore him to stop being a brat and take his meds and then get out. The entire drive had been nothing but you hyping yourself up. 

How were you supposed to look him in the eye after everything he’d said the last time you saw him? After you’d ignored his desperate pleas for you and answered none of his calls since.

It isn’t lost on you how unfair it is for you to show up now— especially for Sam. But you wanted Joaquin to get better…you needed him to. He had figured out a way to live life in a world without you in it, but you’re sure you couldn’t do the same. 

Sam swings the door open before you can knock, his expression a mix of exasperation and relief.

“Thank god you’re here, he’s being a little shit,” He grabs you by your shoulders, rubbing them affectionately. You’re about to tell him it’s no problem when he quickly switches your places, leaving you in Joaquin’s apartment and him in the hallway.

“I’ll be back!” He assures you before slamming the door in your face.

That’s when you realize—you’ve been set up. Joaquin is fine, probably training again. It’s been over a month since you last saw him in the hospital.

You’re afraid to turn around and see what’s waiting for you. Instead, stupidly you close your eyes, willing this to go away. You’re not ready to talk through this with him. You weren’t ready in the hospital and you aren’t ready now. When you’re lost to the deep spiral of your thoughts, you wonder if you’ll ever be ready. Somehow, either answer to that question makes your heart race. 

“Not excited to see me, I guess?” Joaquin asks wryly.

“You set me up.”

“How else was I gonna get you to talk to me? You won’t answer my calls, which is very rude if you didn’t know.”

Your belly fills with that dreadful guilt and you rest your head against the door, “Joaquin…”

“For once I don’t have any expectations, cross my heart and hope to die. I just wanted to see you. And some part of you…wanted to see me too,” He adds, his voice uncharacteristically shy.

“It’s never been about me wanting to see you. I always want to see you I just—

“Won’t?” He supplies.

“Can’t,” You correct. “I can't, it's too painful.”

“More painful than this? Because I think we both agree—this fucking sucks.”

You aren’t sure why, but what he says gets you to turn around. There before you on his coffee table is an unfinished puzzle— one you thought had been thrown away along with the rest of you. The gesture nearly winds you, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Quino, what kind of life could I possibly give you when I don’t know who I am anymore?”

“You say that like I don’t know you. But I do. I always have,” He simply gazes at you, studying you for a moment before his lips curve into a small smile. 

"You probably don't remember this, but there was this little boy at the park once— he must've been five, maybe six. We were reading on this bench, you were so comfortable with your head in my lap, feet propped up. But the boy, he was struggling to fly this ridiculous, tangled-up kite. His dad kept trying to help, but the poor kid was just about ready to give up. And then…you put your book down."

You tilt your head. "I don't remember that."

"I do. Because I remember you. I could never forget, even if I tried, baby. You walked over to that kid, knelt down next to him, and helped him untangle the strings. You showed him everything; how to hold it, when to run, how to wait for the wind. And when that kite finally lifted off the ground, I swear l've never seen a kid so happy. You just stood there, watching him, smiling like it was the easiest thing in the world to make a stranger's day better."

You exhale, shaking your head. "That doesn't even sound like me anymore."

“That's the thing, querida," he says softly, closing the gap between you so that he can grasp your hand. "It is you. No matter how much you feel like you've lost yourself, I promise you're still that person. The one who stops, who helps, who makes the world.”

You gaze down at your hands, sucked into the warmth of his skin against yours. Still you ask, “That was a long time ago. What if that’s not who I am anymore?”

“You didn’t have to show up to the hospital to make sure I was okay. Or come here to make sure I took my meds. Brillas como la luz, entiendes?”

“I…I don’t know, Quino. We can’t just go back to how things were, we’d be lying to ourselves. I mean, you’ve changed too.”

“People change. They still love each other— I still love you.”

Your eyes go wide at his candor. After all you’ve put him through, all the rejection, he was still brave enough to tell you he loved you. You swallow thickly, throat dry. You aren’t sure what to say, because if you open your mouth, the weight of it all—of him, of this—might crush you.

Joaquin takes in your overwhelmed expression and immediately pulls back, though he doesn’t deny his previous words. “Too fast? Yeah, too fast. Look just…help me do this puzzle? I’ve waited years to finish it with you. Please?”

That’s something you could say yes to, isn’t it?

“Sure, yeah. Let’s do it,” You agree, giving him a small smile.

The sight of your happiness makes his heart soar. 

Once the two of you are sat beside each other at the coffee table, Joaquin dives right in. You stay put, simply watching him and after a few minutes he notices your lack of participation.

Gently, he nudges a piece of the puzzle closer to you. “C’mon, you still got it,” He encourages.

It’s enough for you to try, really try and soon the two of you fall into a groove, in your respective corners of the puzzle but always looking out for one another. Always ready to aid if the other is stumped in finding the next piece or where one fits. After working diligently, your corners start to bleed into each other and your fingers brush as you reach for the same piece.

“Oh—sorry— um—“ You stutter softly, unable to move your hand. You feel made of cement and thought you’re frozen on the outside, your mind is moving a mile a minute. 

Move your hand. Move your hand first or break the silence or something. Do something—anything—other than sit here, drowning in the weight of his gaze.

Before you can do any of those things, Joaquin is leaning in, his mouth just barely ghosting yours. Familiarity takes over to your surprise, and you press forward, kissing him back. 

That confirmation, your unexpected desire for him makes his belly warm. He kisses you more firmly, raising a hand to cup your chin and hold you in place. His mouth is soft— so so painstakingly soft— and for several moments all you can do is give into him— succumbing to his skillful kiss that makes your brain feel melty.

His hand starts to move, thumb tracing the shape of your jaw before his gentle grip lowers to your neck. You shiver against him, moaning which grants him the access to taste you. It’s the sensual brush of his tongue against yours that brings you back to reality. 

You jerk back against the couch, eyes down as you wipe your mouth. “Quino,” You murmur breathlessly, unsure of what more to say. Your mouth feels like it’s on fire, the place where he touched you searing with heat. 

“I’m sorry, it just sort of— you looked at me like that. No pude evitarlo, preciosa. No con lo hermosa que eres,” He murmurs, hand reflexively raising to cup your cheek.

You flinch away, nervous about what will happen if he touches you like that again. “Joaquin this is all just…it’s too much. I need time to think, to clear my head. 

“It’s not a no.”

“It’s not a yes either,” You remind him gently.

“I know. But I’ll take it for now. Can I walk you out?” He asks hopefully, rising to his feet as you do.

“Just to the door…I need space, Quino.”

“Sure, hermosa. Whatever you say.”

Once you’re standing in the hallway, feeling a little more separated from him you turn around, meeting his intense gaze. “Thank you for tonight. You’re being so kind and patient with me, and I know it’s difficult but you’re doing it anyway.”

His eyes soften, gooey and warm as he looks at you. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I— I’ll call you, okay?”

“Alright,” He agrees.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, querida.”

Joaquin waits until the elevator doors close to shut his own door. He leans against the sturdy wood, a slow smile spreading across his face as he thinks about what just transpired. He got to spend time with you, to touch you and taste you for the first time in 7 years. This is the closest he’s ever been to getting you back and he’ll take it, even if it uses every drop of patience in his body. 

He fishes his phone out of his pocket and dials Sam.

“Well?” Sam asks, skipping pleasantries.

The goofy grin on Joaquin’s face has his cheeks aching. “I think…I think it might’ve worked.”

Sam can hear the smile in his voice and wants every detail.  “I’m on my way.”

> pt. III

must be 18+ to be added to the joaquin taglist! <3

joaquin taglist: @magikdarkholme, @plan3t-plut0, @mewmew222, @linnygirl09, @ezhz444, @karmaswitch, @badbishsblog, @moonymeloncholymoney, @glader13, @how2besalty

[lxvvie]

Couples Shit with Simon Riley, Stay at Home Missus Edition:

Simon Riley is a SAHM (stay-at-home missus). Yes, he's fine with it. Yes, you're fine with it. No, taking care of Beanie and the house is not bloody hard. Yes, he enjoys it, even when Beanie wakes him up at the asscrack of dawn to play Princess Daddy Bandit Heeler. No, it's not babysitting, it's called being her FATHER, and no, it's not emasculating what Simon does, it's called being a MISSUS and taking care of his family. What the fuck?

You and Simon are a team, a well-oiled machine playing the game of life on your own terms, and while what you do may not work for others, it works for you two and you're all the happier for it. Plus, it's adorable how much Beanie has Simon wrapped around her finger.

Simon's an organized fellow. Keeps a checklist of things to do around the house, things pertaining to Beanie, etc. Nothing he can't handle. He likes working with his hands.

And speaking of Beanie, she is your alarm clock. Once she's up, the whole house is up preparing for the day. You're usually sleepily trailing behind Simon into the kitchen. At the same time, Beanie sits comfortably on Simon's shoulders and lives her best Queen Bean life like she should, happily talking your ears off about everything on her mind.

Beanie turns getting ready for the day into a family affair, especially when she goes to nursery (she doesn't go all week, only a couple days to get her acclimated to a school setting and to socialize), and she wants to look her absolute best. You two help her get ready and all's well until you and Beanie decide that Daddy should be twinsies with his baby girl. Oh... bloody fuckin' hell. And so he does—matching shirts—and he's on official Princess Daddy Security duty.

Lunch? Already packed and ready to go. And like clockwork, you forget yours. And like clockwork, Simon has to drop it off to you after he drops Beanie off.

Though Simon in general doesn't have two fucks to give, he's all too aware of the stares he gets when he's with Beanie. Some wariness, a little bit of fear, and some... interest? When he drops her off at daycare, takes her to the playground, takes her on playdates with her friends, or is at the store getting groceries, he gets stares. What, they've never seen a man on Princess Daddy security duty before? The shock value and looks on their faces are worth it all, especially when Beanie is screaming-laughing "Daddy!" as Simon hoists her over his shoulders.

But if he isn't getting stares when he's out with Beanie, he gets stares from your co-workers. Your co-workers who STILL can't believe he's the missus. Your co-workers who can't believe he's the one who keeps the house while you work. You make it a point to kiss him every time he drops your lunch off, right in front of your co-workers, before staring at them pointedly. And Simon, your MISSUS, chuckles every time.

Grocery runs with Beanie is an adventure all its own. The Queen has to give her approval and it's his daughter's world after all. "What do you think, Beanie?" She contemplates a little before nodding and going, "That one!" 'cause Rileyland has to have the best food after all. And then they go to the bakery. They keep it a secret—"Pinky promise, Beanie." "Pinky promise!"—from you. Rileyland has to have the best sweets after all.

When you come home, you're greeted by the Queen Bean herself who's helping Daddy make dinner. Your usual greeting is to hug him from behind and just hold him. Your husband, your missus, the bedrock who gets shit done, and supports you and your daughter with everything in him. You couldn't ask for a better partner.

After a hearty dinner complete with Beanie talking about her day, cleaning up, packing your lunch for tomorrow, and taking your evening bath, you three usually wind up on the couch. Everyone is pilled on Simon and just... being. Relaxing. Well, you and Simon are relaxing and Beanie is fighting sleep and trying to convince you both to get a dog because her friends have dogs. Yeah. Just another day in the Riley household.

[cherubkissesx]

only angel

pairing: bau!f reader x spencer reid

summary: in which reader is part of the bau and has to go undercover as an exotic dancer in order to catch the unsub. but the reader has been hiding lots of tattoos underneath her seemingly innocent facade. spencer goes to readers hotel room afterwards after holding in his feelings for so long.

warnings: violence, smut, oral (f receiving) unprotected p in v (wrap it up!!!!)

a/n: hey guys i hope you enjoy this quick little one shot!! this is inspired by the song only angel by harry styles :) also this is my first attempt at writing smut so i hope this good lmao

this is the song i imagined playing in the club lol

you and team gathered into the conference room in the local police station to go over the case you were all assigned to once again. the unsub had been killing exotic dancers and the amount of overkill was increasing with each body that was getting discovered.

“this unsub is progressing at rapid speed, we keep missing him each time we go out into the field. we have no other option but to send someone to go undercover as one of the dancers.” hotch said sighing.

everyone’s heads immediately turned round to you. jj was a mom and couldn’t risk it, emily was deemed “too old” to be a dancer but you were the youngest.

“you’re the only right person for this, y/n.” emily said. “i don’t want to mess it up what if im not convincing enough?” you questioned as you felt your face flush. “you’ll do great!” penelope chimed in.

“if you really don’t feel comfortable we can find someone else.” hotch said not pressuring you. “no.. no it’s fine.” you smiled shakily and he nodded.

****

“i feel so weird.” you said to emily as you looked at your appearance in the mirror. your hair was curled, you felt like you had a ton of makeup on, and you were wearing a shimmery pink bralette and booty shorts your tattoos that you had been hiding on full display.

“you look hot.” emily reassured. “also your tattoos are great, i didn’t know you had all of these.” emily said her eyes trailing up and down your body. you had a tiger tattoo on your stomach and a big flower tattoo down your spine. “thank you” you blushed.

emily had fixed your earpiece for you so your team could hear everything you were saying.

“are you ready?” emily asked and you nodded and walked out. you noticed all your team situated at different points in the bar. you strutted confidently up to the stage.

you weren’t much of a dancer but you thought may aswell give it your all, and thats exactly what you did. you copied all the other dancers and eventually got caught up in doing it and realised how easy it was as your hips swayed to the music. you had taken some pole dancing classes in the past so you decided to get on the pole and try it again and you were surprised when you noticed you hadn’t forgotten the skill.

your eyes darted around the room to look for your team and saw them all staring back at you with wide eyes, you chuckled to yourself.

you scanned the room for the unsub and you finally zeroed in on him. you recognised him immediately from the sketch that a surviving victim had provided. “i see him.” you whispered. your team was about to approach him to arrest him. “hold off. i have a plan” you said again and you saw your team looking confused.

you met your unsubs eyes and you made a motion with your finger indicating for him to follow you.

your set was over so you sauntered off stage to go to the back. “y/n someone wants to see you” the club manager said who was in on your plan to catch the unsub.

you walked to the back to where sure enough the unsub was sitting on a couch waiting for you.

“oh! hey” you smiled sweetly. “hello darling, i saw you dancing up on that stage and had to come meet you personally, you were phenomenal” the unsub said. “thank you” you smiled.

“what’s your name?” he asked. you didn’t want to give him your real name so you gave him a fake one. “angel.” you lied. “very fitting.” he said noticing the angel tattoo on your thigh.

“how much money would it cost me for me to have sex with you?” the unsub said sickly now practically pinning you to the wall. “i’m sorry but i don’t have sex with customers” you said a bit shakily. “what if i beg?” the unsub said now grabbing your hand and pinning it above your head. “i said no!” you said pushing him off you.

“bitch!” the unsub said angrily and he grabbed your hair and bashed your face into the wall. you felt blood trickling down your nose.

“fbi put your hands up!” derek said as him and the rest of the team burst into the room. “are you okay?” spencer said immediately rushing to you as your team arrested the unsub. “i will be” you smiled as you tried to catch your breath.

“i’m taking you to get checked over” spencer said putting his arm around your shoulder towards the ambulance. “spencer im fine” you said trying to reassure him to which he just stared at you disbelievingly. “fine” you chuckled.

“here” spencer said giving you his jacket to put over yourself as it was freezing. “will you stay with me? just until i’m finished being checked over” you asked nervously and you saw spencer’s whole face soften. “of course” he said sitting down next to you.

once you were checked over you and spencer both made your way over to the rest of the team. “everyone great work today, especially you y/n. without you who knows if we would’ve caught this unsub” hotch said. “thank you sir” you blushed.

“since it’s late why don’t we all go back to the hotel room and get some rest and leave in the morning” hotch offered. “agreed” jj said and you and the rest of the team nodded.

“i didn’t know you had tattoos y/n?” derek said when you were all walking up to each of your rooms. “you didn’t ask” you chuckled. “and we all thought you were the innocent one” derek said.

****

you were about to shower when you heard a knock at your hotel door. you looked at the time to see that it was 3 in the morning and wondered who would be calling at this time.

“spencer! hi” you said in shock when you opened the door. “come in” you said stepping to the side to let him in.

“are you alright?” you asked subtly wrapping your arms around yourself when he kept staring at you and not saying anything. “i can’t stop thinking about you” spencer said suddenly which made you stop in your tracks.

you had had the most hopeless crush on spencer since your first day at the bau but never thought those feelings would be reciprocated.

“and it wasn’t just because of today but i’ve liked you for a long time and i think about you all the time. you looked so breathtaking today” spencer said moving closer to you. “those dance moves… fuck it was hot” spencer said his eyes darkening.

“say something y/n” spencer practically demanded. “i feel the same way spencer, and i have for a long time now” you said feeling quite breathless as you stared at his lips.

spencer looked into your eyes for a little while before eventually cupping your face and bringing his lips down onto yours. his lips felt soft and pillowy and you immediately melted into his touch.

“let me make you feel good” spencer begged. “do it” you nodded. “let’s get this off you” spencer said helping you take off your outfit until you were naked and you helped take off spencer’s clothes.

“so fucking beautiful” spencer said taking you all in. “can i?” spencer’s asked as he spread your legs apart to go inbetween them. “please” you sighed.

he dove his head down to your pussy and began eating you out. his tongue hitting your clit just right. “oh fuck!” you screamed out, your hands finding his hair and pulling on it tight.

you felt him smile against your pussy as you tugged his hair tighter. spencer’s tongue now began to move at rapid speed to make you cum. “spencer im gonna cum!” you shouted out. “let go for me baby” spencer reassured and you did.

spencer lapped up your juices onto his tongue. “you taste so sweet baby” spencer said leaning down to kiss you.

spencer kissed your “angel” tattoo and trailed his tongue up your tiger tattoo and the rest of your body making you wriggle until he got to your mouth and kissed you ferociously.

spencer knelt down on his knees and lined himself up with your entrance and pushed in slowly. “is this okay?” he said wanting to make sure he wasn’t hurting you. “you can move” you reassured and spencer began going in and out of you at a steady pace. you grinded up against him to get him to hit deeper. “faster!” you demanded and he obeyed.

“right there” you sighed as he hit your g spot. spencer’s head found its way to rest into the crook of your neck to hit deeper into you. “oh my god” spencer said as you ground yourself up against him.

your nails dug into his back as you trailed your nails up and down. that pain only made spencer go faster and now your head was hitting off of the headboard. spencer leaned down to kiss the top of your head as a form of an apology.

“i’m gonna cum” you shouted out as you dug your fingers into spencer’s curls. “so am i” spencer said out of breath.

you clenched around spencer’s which sent him over the edge as he pounded even faster, the only sound that could be heard in the room was the sound of skin slapping together. spencer felt you let go as he did at the same time and you both rode out your orgasms.

spencer stayed inside you for a little longer and kissed you on the lips tenderly. he pulled out to flop down beside you and you whined at the feeling of him pulling out.

“that was…” spencer said at a lose for words. “out of this world?” you joked. “yeah..” he said rolling over to kiss you again. “been meaning to get that out my system for years” you smiled at him and he agreed.

“sorry about your back that’s going to leave a very big mark….” you apologised as you looked at his back which was covered in deep red scratches. “don’t worry about it, it was worth it” he chuckled.

“i was about to shower before you got here…. do you want to join me?” you asked innocently as you got up from the bed. “yes!” spencer said greedily as you laughed and walked to the bathroom together.