#god i want to write so much more of this fuck

[luvergirl-535]

meet cute, but, like, wayyy worse

part - 2

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 8.3k

c/w - smut (iktr), paige is a loser in the streets and a freak in the sheets (lol), horrifically unedited to the point where idek if it’s legible so bear w me 🥀

a/n - writing this made me realize i’ve literally forgotten how to write smut 😔 bc why’d i keep trying to make it funny. i’m actually a little concerned that ive been doing too much unserious stuff i won’t be able to go back to normal writing anymore lmao maybe i’m the problem…

paige has had an absolute shitshow of a night. actually, scratch that—the entire year has been a shitshow. maybe even the past two years. she doesn’t like to dwell on it.

she hates the way her friends look at her these days, with cautious smiles and sympathetic eyes, like all they ever do anymore is feel bad for her. she hates the way they speak to her when she starts drinking, like she’s an unpredictable, wild thing. like they’re afraid of what she’s doing to herself.

honestly, she’s fine. they just don’t get it. the fame, the work, it’s a lot. she’s in shape. her basketball has never been better. she’s bringing girls home every night.

it’s not like she’s addicted to coke or anything. since when is it a crime to need a few beers every now and then?

(it’s every night. and some mornings, too.)

(she finds herself forgetting—birthdays, anniversaries, names—more than ever.)

(she used to fucking hate alcohol.)

(she is a little afraid of herself, too.)

anyway.

the cruise has been fun. a team-bonding experience, meant to build their chemistry off the court, to take their minds off the upcoming season for a little while. a week of relaxation. a week to destress. for paige, it’s been hard. she cannot justify sneaking off to day drink to her teammates, and they’ve been steering clear of alcohol like their lives depend on it. she only gets to drink at night, after the rest of the girls have gotten too drunk to care about what she does. the rest of the time, she’s forced to be painfully sober.

it all goes from ‘difficult’ to ‘burning gates of hell’ when she throws up on the love of her life—who does not know she’s the love of paige’s life—azzi fudd. an angel on earth, the most beautiful girl paige has ever seen. like, better than zendaya. for real.

after that, she wants nothing more than to jump off ship and be lost at sea forever. when kk offers to take azzi back to paige’s room, she swears she could kill her.

and then, almost consecutively: her stupid little crush is exposed, she’s forced to cut a dress off azzi’s body, and then—this.

her first thought, after the phone call, is mental image of her fist pumping, because, duh. and then comes the, oh my god, i get to fuck azzi fudd, followed by a brief moment of panic, followed then by the realization that of course she is not going to fuck azzi tonight. or ever.

she is both relieved and disappointed by this knowledge.

“i’m…” azzi says, staring at her phone as if she could magically make chad call her back again. paige expects something, like maybe an explanation on why the fuck she’s telling her ex-boyfriend they are going to fuck tonight, but instead, azzi just tosses the phone onto the bed as if she’s been burned and says, “i’m going to change.”

paige has half a mind to leap in front of the door and barricade azzi in the room with her until she gets an explanation. she doesn’t, because she can barely act like a normal person around azzi, let alone confront her like that.

azzi disappears into the restroom. paige sits. and waits—not so patiently.

she pulls at a fray in the comforter until it comes loose. taps her foot against the bedframe. thinks about how azzi’s voice changed on the call—quieter, but not exactly embarrassed. maybe satisfied? there was something in it that didn’t sound like regret. that’s the part that’s screwing with her the most.

she gets up from the bed to pace, the back-and-forth a feeble attempt at wrapping her mind around what just happened. when that doesn’t work, she drops to the floor and does some sit-ups, because when she was a kid her dad told her if she let the anxiety build in her body she’d explode and that the only way to get rid of it was to do sit-ups. he’s a bitch for that, but she’s also spent a lifetime with nice abs, so she can’t really be too mad. but not even the magical sit-ups really work, so she does the last thing she can think of:

she pounds on the bathroom door.

“jesus!” azzi’s voice is high-pitched, nervous. “you tryna knock the door down?”

“uh, no,” paige says, a little unsure of what she’s going to say now that she’s here. “you’ve just been in there for awhile so…”

“don’t worry about it.”

oh, she’s worried. though not particularly about azzi. “can you just come out?”

“why?”

at this point, azzi is just playing in her face. because what does she mean, ‘why?’. is it not a normal thing to come out of the bathroom once you’re done?

the most alarming thing about all this is that paige has yet to question her undying crush, even as azzi is turning out to be a possible psycho. actually, even worse—it might be turning paige on?

now she is doubly worried. perhaps she should focus on one thing at a time.

paige’s silence must have stretched long enough to spark concern, because azzi speaks again, a hesitant, “paige?”

paige sighs, a hand on her hip and the other pinching the bridge of her nose, a pose she might have adopted from her coach. “you know you owe me an explanation, azzi.”

another sigh, as equally annoyed as paige’s, from the other side of the door. and then, its opening, and azzi’s standing there in paige’s clothes, looking altogether too soft and sweet for the diabolical things she did ten minutes prior. “i know, i just…i don’t really have one.”

paige’s eyes flick down azzi’s body without permission. the loose uconn t-shirt hangs too long on her—paige knows that shirt, it’s the one she used to let her ex borrow. something about azzi in it makes her stomach twist. not in a bad way. in the worst possible way.

paige steps back, allowing azzi back into the bedroom. “you mean you don’t have an explanation for telling your boyfriend we’d…” paige isn’t usually shy about sex, she’s a grown adult, for god’s sake, but this is azzi fudd and she can’t really find her words in normal conversation, and certainly not this one, “you know…” she trails off awkwardly.

azzi bites her lip, half-sheepish, half-trying to charm her way out of it. and, yeah, maybe it’s working a little.

paige realizes with a little bit of a start that she’s staring at azzi’s lips. she glances up and away quickly, turning around to give herself something to do before motioning to the phone on the bed. “you should…call him back.”

“hell no,” azzi sneers.

“well it’s either that or we fuck,” paige retorts before she can think. she’s glad she’s faced away so azzi can’t see the way blood flushes her cheeks.

azzi’s silent for a moment. almost long enough that paige turns around, but then she speaks. “maybe there’s another option,” she says.

paige senses trouble.

❀❀❀

kk’s jaw is on the floor.

she looks between a guilty-looking azzi and a tomato-red paige before letting out a shocked laugh. “now why would you tell him that?”

kk asking all the most important questions.

“it was the first thing that came to mind!” azzi says, voice high and defensive. paige can’t help but think it’s adorable.

“why, though?” kk asks, a small, suspect grin spreading over her face.

azzi gives her a look, something that clearly says cut it out, and paige doesn’t doubt that kk spilled all the beans about her crush to azzi earlier.

“uh-huh,” kk responds, making a small ‘mcht’ sound.

azzi gives that warning look again. “shut up, kk.”

“that isn’t even the main thing,” paige points out, jumping between their tense interaction. “what we came to tell you is azzi had an idea.” an outlandish, admittedly odd one, but an idea nonetheless.

“an idea,” kk repeats.

azzi nods. she’s hesitant, clearly, but paige has already assured her kk will be on board. she’ll laugh in their faces first, sure, but then she will help them go through with azzi’s little…plan.

“okay,” she says doubtfully. “tell me this lil’ idea.”

azzi glances nervously at paige. “well, i can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s right,” she explains.

kk nods. “obviously.”

“and i can’t go back to my room tonight.”

“okay…”

“so i’m going to stay here,” she continues, taking a deep breath as in gathering courage for the teasing about to come. “and i’m going to take…suggestive pictures with paige, in paige’s bed. and we’re just hoping you can help.”

before azzi’s finished, kk’s eyebrows have already raised to her hairline. she lets out a half-shocked, half-ifuckingknewit scoff. it’s enough to have paige jumping in to try and make it look better. “her boyfriend’s really an ass, kk, like, she needs to get him back.”

azzi nods. “paige heard him on the phone. she knows.”

“i know,” paige agrees.

kk looks between the two of them, both so earnest and oh-so oblivious, and just laughs. “i believe you. oh, i believe you.”

“so are you going to help us?” azzi asks.

“help with what, exactly? do i need to ref? do i need to make sure it stays pg in there?”

paige immediately blushes, squeaking an awkward “what? no!” before azzi can even react. when she does, it’s a much more nonchalant, normal person answer: “don’t be weird, kk. answer the question.”

kk gives paige a pointed look. “for the record, this is stupud. y’all are stupid. and i don’t condone such behavior.”

“oh, shut up, kk,” paige says.

“but i will help,” kk finishes, getting up from her kitchen stool. “i’ll make sure y’all look as, what’d you say? suggestive, as possible,” she grins.

azzi, bravely, doesn’t so much as redden. “cool. thanks.”

“what friends are for,” kk replies easily. she walks toward them, slinging an arm around both their shoulders and pulling their heads close. “and after tonight, we are definitely friends,” she tells azzi.

“except on the court,” azzi points out.

“unless you come to uconn.”

“you tryna recruit me? to a team that always loses against us?” azzi laughs, pushing away. “you’re funny.”

“trust, we wouldn’t lose with you on our team,” kk says.

paige rolls her eyes. “can we just get this over with?”

“aight, cranky pants. let’s get it.” kk motions toward the bedroom. “go start taking y’all’s clothes off. i’ll get the camera ready.”

“oh, brother,” azzi sighs, at the same time paige mutters, “worst fuckin’ idea,” under her breath.

❀❀❀

azzi looks—fucked out, to be perfectly honest. more specifically, like a scene straight from one of paige’s many azzi-centered wet dreams. not that she has azzi-centered wet dreams or anything. but if she did, like hypothetically, azzi would look exactly like this.

lips plumped with oil. braids pulled back messily. mascara re-applied and then carefully smeared. she studies herself in the mirror as she adds the final touch: a dark bruise above her collarbone, created with deft fingers and dark blush courtesy of kk. paige sits on the toilet seat, watching azzi work. she’s been staring for the past thirty minutes. azzi has yet to notice. kk, on the other hand, has spent the entire time sending her not-so-subtle signals, such as disguising a ‘talktoher’ with a cough, and whispering ‘go offer to do that for her,’ when azzi started applying the hickeys.

paige has not taken this advice. she’s still a little tipsy and azzi looks too enticing and she’s awkward enough that she’d much rather observe than try to interact at the moment.

before azzi finishes applying the final fake hickey, kk is fiddling with angles, mumbling about “golden hour lighting” even though they’re inside and it’s past midnight. paige’s gaze is caught in the mirror—not on herself, but the reflection of azzi in front of her. she imagines reaching over. just touching azzi’s wrist. she doesn’t. she clenches her hands together in her lap instead.

“you know,” azzi says idly, still dabbing at her collarbone, “you’re not nervous enough.”

paige blinks. “about what?”

“pretending to fuck me. in pictures. that we’re going to send to a real person.” azzi’s voice is light, teasing, but there’s something layered beneath it.

“what, you want me to panic?”

“a little. would make me feel better.”

paige laughs—quiet and dry. “i’m panicking plenty. just…internally.”

“uh-huh.” azzi licks her thumb before dabbing at her neck, turning her chin this way and that in the mirror. “do i look good?”

“you look bad,” kk says, nodding appreciatively. “as hell.”

azzi smiles a little shyly. “thanks.”

she knows it’s stupid, but a pang of jealously hits paige. she wishes she had kk’s natural instinct to flirt with girls. and it’s true paige has this instinct sometimes, but with a girl she really likes? with azzi fucking fudd? it’s best for everyone if she just keeps quiet and lets kk charm her instead. after this whole thing, she’ll go back to her indulgent bedtime fantasies of she and azzi in domestic situations and wet dreams.

“okay,” azzi says, pulling her phone out of her pocket and snapping a quick selfie in the mirror before turning to the two of them. “we ready?”

“i been practicing my photography skills,” kk says (she got a new camera app last week and has been taking candid, objectively bad photos of the team ever since). “never been readier.”

“don’t think that’s a word,” azzi points out, then looks at paige. “paige?”

“yup,” paige says, slapping her thighs before standing up in an attempt to get rid of the chalant written all over her face right now. “super ready.”

“now why you sound all excited to cozy up in bed with fudd?” kk quips. paige gets warm all over, glancing furtively at azzi to see her reaction—seriously, kk’s going to make azzi think paige is weird or something—but she just gives a little laugh before leading the way into the bedroom. “okay, let’s do this then.”

paige is maybe beginning to reconsider the this in question—their great plan. nothing’s even been done yet, for god’s sakes, with phase one—making azzi look as fucked out as possible—barely being finished. yet still paige is already uncomfortably damp between her legs: hence, the reconsidering. but, lord save her, azzi is already crawling into paige’s bed much too seductively, and it would look downright suspicious of her to pussy out now. no, she’s going to go through with this faux-sex photoshoot like a man, goddamit.

“get in there, twin,” kk says, pulling her phone out from her back pocket.

paige gingerly sits on the edge of the bed while azzi lays back, propped up on her elbows as they watch kk navigate around the device. “you know,” azzi says, “i wasn’t thinking you’d actually take the pictures for us. i thought you’d just, like, tell us what looks good.”

paige is a little surprised to hear this, and at the offended expression on kk’s face, she panics—her friend has a liking for dramatic storm-outs, and paige cannot have her leaving right now. “but this works too,” she jumps in, shooting azzi a warning look. “right?”

azzi places her palms upright, surrendering. “i mean, yeah, i guess. i was just sayin’.”

“well i ain’t here to be a third opinion or nothing,” kk says haughtily.

“you’re not,” paige says quickly. “you’re our creative director.”

“yeah,” azzi adds, already settling deeper into the pillows like this is just another thursday night. “we trust your vision.”

kk narrows her eyes at them like she’s sniffing out sarcasm, but apparently decides she accepts it. “creative director,” she repeats, pleased. “i like that. okay. azzi, scoot a little more to the left. paige, behind her. lean in like you just got done doing something y’all shouldn’t have been doing.”

“we haven’t even started yet,” paige mutters.

“don’t kill the vibe,” kk says. she gestures wildly. “go on. get close. more. closer.”

paige shifts behind azzi on the bed, legs folding automatically. azzi leans back slightly to rest against her, and the contact sends a shock through her skin like she’s short-circuiting. this is fine. totally fine. normal behavior for two near-strangers in a definitely-not-suggestive photoshoot.

“hand on her waist,” kk calls, adjusting her phone. “and azzi, tilt your head back, like you’re worn out.”

paige’s hand finds azzi’s hip, fingers splaying across the soft cotton of her borrowed t-shirt. azzi does as told, and for a second paige’s vision blurs. the curve of her neck, the flushed heat of her skin from alcohol or earlier makeup efforts—it’s all a little too real.

“jesus,” kk mutters, half to herself. “this looks…kind of hot, not gonna lie.”

paige groans. “can we not—comment on that?”

“okay, okay,” kk says, still snapping. “let’s switch it up. azzi, crawl into her lap. yeah, like that. lean back a little, like you’re laughing at something she said. paige, smile. not like you’re being tortured.”

“so, you are taking the pictures for us, then?”

“i’m close enough he won’t be able to tell it was taken by someone else,” kk huffs. “now, go. c’mon.”

“i’m not a model,” paige mutters, but she does her best to grin.

azzi wiggles into place, her thigh slotting between paige’s legs. “sorry,” she whispers.

“don’t apologize,” paige says automatically, which is a mistake, because then azzi looks at her, and they’re way too close for that.

“aaaand pause,” kk says, not looking up from the phone. “i think i need y’all to look a little messier. paige, mess up your hair. azzi, can you tug the shirt off your shoulder a little? you look too put together.”

paige drags a hand through her hair, trying not to stare as azzi obliges, the shirt slipping just enough to expose the faux-hickey she’d applied earlier. kk catches it in the next snap and lets out a sharp whistle.

“he’s gonna cry when he sees these,” she says gleefully.

azzi’s lips twitch. “that’s the goal.”

more posing. more directions. at some point paige gets bolder, draping an arm around azzi’s stomach. azzi leans back into her without hesitation, as if it’s natural, like they do this every day.

kk crouches to get a shot from below and then pauses, frowning at her screen. “hold up,” she says. “jana’s calling. gimme a sec.”

she stands and walks out, phone already at her ear, voice lowering as she steps into the other room.

the silence she leaves behind is heavy.

paige shifts slightly. azzi doesn’t move off her lap.

“so…” paige starts, voice low. “this is probably the weirdest way i’ve ever spent a night.”

azzi chuckles softly. “same. but kind of… weirdly fun?”

“yeah,” paige admits. “yeah, it kinda is.”

they lapse into another pause. paige thinks she should move, but azzi hasn’t, and she’s scared that if she does, she’ll mess up whatever weird little truce they’re holding onto.

“hey,” azzi says suddenly, voice softer now. “can i ask you something?”

“sure.”

“do you hang out with your team very often?” she asks. “because, i mean, i see y’all on tv and at social events and stuff but—i dunno. you’re never in any of their tiktoks or anything.” azzi winces. “not that i’ve been paying attention.”

paige stiffens slightly. “uh. i dunno. just—trying to focus. this year’s important.”

“yeah,” azzi says quietly. “it is.”

azzi looks down, to gather her thoughts, maybe, and seems to realize that she’s still on top of paige because her breath hitches and then she moves, rolling off so she’s sitting beside her. “sorry,” she murmurs.

“you’re good.”

the quiet stretches again, heavier this time.

“truth?” paige says suddenly.

azzi turns toward her a little more, her thigh still between paige’s, their knees brushing. “truth.”

“i’ve been drinking too much,” paige blurts. “i’m not like an alcoholic or anything,” she’s quick to defend, because alcoholism is for deadbeat dads and stuff, right? not for celebrity college athletes. “it just, lately, it got kind of bad, and people started noticing, and it’s hard to be around them now. they all look at me like they think i’m gonna…i dunno. fall apart or something.”

azzi’s eyes soften. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay. i mean—it’s not,” paige shrugs. “but it’s…i had this breakup a few months ago. really bad. i thought it was going to be forever, you know? and when it wasn’t, i guess, and it was kinda my fault, and i—the team took me to parties, to get my mind off it. i learned pretty quick that drinking helped me forget. and now, i mean, i’m mostly over it, i guess, but it helps with other things, too. like when i’m stressed about an exam, or worried for a game, or something. it helps.”

she stares off into space, then catches herself, glancing over at azzi, who’s staring her with an imperceptible look on her face. “damn, my bad. didn’t mean to overshare with a stranger like that.”

“you’re not a stranger,” azzi says, her voice quiet. “not to me.”

paige blinks. “i didn’t think you knew anything about me.”

“i do,” azzi says. “we’re not close, but…i’ve kept up with you, since usa. i’m a people-watcher. very perceptive.” she elbows paige, raising a smug, teasing eyebrow. “and i think i’ve got you all figured out.”

paige exhales, glad for the mood lightener. “oh yeah? and who am i?”

“you’re…a twenty-two year old college student,” azzi starts.

paige laughs. “wow, super perceptive. how’d you figure that one out?”

“shut up, smart-ass, i’m not finished,” azzi snips, and paige is almost surprised at the sass, at the teasing that she herself loves so much. “lemme continue. i think you’re someone who likes to think you’ve got your life together. you walk around like you’re so sure of everything, like your whole future is planned out, and you know it’s all gonna end well for you. so you act like you don’t worry, like you don’t…care.”

paige raises an eyebrow. “but…?”

“but,” azzi says, “you’re a twenty-two year old college student. of course you don’t have your life figured out. you get stressed out trying to decide what you’re gonna eat for your next meal. your shoulders are constantly tense. you’re always wringing your hands before games, did you know that? during time-outs, too.”

paige looks over, startled, to find azzi looking just as surprised. “you watch me play?”

azzi fumbles for something. “i’m a basketball player. you didn’t expect me to watch basketball?”

“i didn’t expect you to watch me,” paige says.

azzi opens her mouth. closes it. looks away, at the wall ahead. “i guess i didn’t realize i was doing it.”

paige doesn’t know what to say to that. she feels seen and it’s terrifying.

“truth?” azzi says after a moment.

“truth.”

“chad’s been cheating on me,” she says. “i haven’t caught him, but i know. it’s been obvious for weeks.”

paige looks at her, waiting.

“and he’s mean,” azzi continues. “not, like…evil. just sharp. cold. the kind of mean that makes you feel stupid for crying or asking to be treated better. tonight was just—my last straw, i think. i didn’t want to go back to that room and feel like shit again. so i came here.”

“you didn’t have to come with us,” paige says. “i would’ve just, like, venmoed you for the shoes.”

azzi meets her eyes. “i think…i think i wanted to come here.”

paige’s breath catches.

before she can figure out what that means—what to say—kk’s voice cuts in from the hall. “yo! i gotta bounce for a sec, emergency meeting. jana’s constipated for real, imma bring over some laxatives. i’ll be back in like twenty.”

they hear the cabin door open and then click shut.

“you think we should keep going?” azzi asks after a beat.

paige nods, voice suddenly thick. “yeah. okay.”

wordlessly, they rearrange, moving closer. azzi sits with her knees up now, leaning into paige’s shoulder, one hand splayed across her thigh.

they take a few selfies this time. azzi guides her hand behind the camera, adjusting the angle to catch just enough skin, just enough closeness. their shoulders press. their cheeks touch. at some point, paige’s hand finds azzi’s knee, and azzi doesn’t move it.

by the time kk returns, azzi is in paige’s lap again, one hand hooked around the back of her neck.

kk pauses in the doorway. “well damn.”

“we figured we’d keep going,” paige says, eyes wide.

“uh-huh,” kk says knowingly. “y’all definitely got the shots now.”

she walks around, checking a few pictures. “these are good. like…y’all could win a grammy for best fake situationship or something.”

paige laughs, a little too loudly. “we just wanted to sell it.”

“mission accomplished.” kk pockets her phone. “i’ll edit mine and get them to you, azzi.”

“thanks,” azzi says. “seriously. for everything.”

kk just grins. “get some sleep, y’all. and don’t do anything i wouldn’t do.”

when she’s gone, paige and azzi look at each other.

“that was—” paige starts.

“insane,” azzi finishes.

they laugh, even though nothing’s really funny.

❀❀❀

the clock on the stove reads 4:36 a.m. the suite is dark and quiet except for the low hum of the fridge. paige is sitting at the counter, a half-empty glass of water in her hand, the condensation dripping slowly down to form a ring beneath it.

she can’t sleep. her skin’s still buzzing, brain too full. not from alcohol—for once—but from azzi. from the way her voice had gone soft. from the weight of her in paige’s lap. from the echo of that not-quite-confession: i think i wanted to come here.

the room creaks. faint footsteps pad across the floor.

paige looks up.

azzi appears in the doorway, her braids wrapped in kk’s spare bonnet, bundled in one of paige’s old huskies sweatshirts that’s big enough to swallow her whole. she looks warm. sleepy. somehow both tentative and certain.

“couldn’t sleep,” azzi says, voice scratchy.

paige offers a quiet smile. “same.”

azzi shuffles forward, hugging her arms around herself. “can i hang with you?”

“uh-huh.”

azzi climbs onto the stool next to her. their knees knock under the counter and neither moves to pull away. azzi steals a sip from paige’s water without asking, and something about that—something about the easy familiarity of it—sends a warm, unsteady ache through paige’s chest.

they sit in silence for a while. the kind of silence that settles between people who are too tired to lie but too uncertain to speak first.

finally, azzi says, “i didn’t think today would end like this.”

paige snorts quietly. “me either.”

“i thought i’d be crying to some emo playlist and wondering why i ever trusted him.”

“and i thought i’d be drinking alone in my room, again,” paige admits. “so…silver linings, i guess?”

azzi turns slightly to look at her, and the light from the fridge reflects in her eyes, soft and shimmering. “i meant what i said earlier. about wanting to come here.”

paige looks at her. “yeah?”

azzi nods, then smiles softly to herself. “it’s been a lot of fun, despite…everything.” she gestures at their surroundings. “i don’t think i’ve laughed like that in months, to be honest.”

“i don’t think i’ve felt…wanted like that in months,” paige says, quieter now, fully aware that what she’s saying is pathetic and induced by the last dregs of alcohol in her system. “even if it was fake.”

azzi’s voice is even softer. “it didn’t feel fake.”

that—that does it.

paige’s breath catches, heart thudding loud in her chest. she glances at azzi, who’s already looking at her, mouth parted, gaze open in a way that makes something deep inside paige tremble.

“can i—?” paige starts, voice hoarse.

“yes,” azzi breathes.

paige leans in slowly, giving azzi every chance to pull away. but she doesn’t. she leans in too, and when their lips meet, it’s soft. hesitant. careful, like they’re both afraid of shattering something delicate.

azzi’s hand finds paige’s hoodie, clutching at the fabric. paige cups her cheek, thumb brushing just under her eye. the kiss deepens in quiet pulses, not rushed, but heavy with the weight of something new.

when they finally break apart, foreheads pressed together, paige whispers, “sorry. i didn’t—i wasn’t trying to make this weird.”

“it’s not weird,” azzi says, eyes still closed. “it’s…good. i think it’s really good.”

they sit like that for a long beat, breathing the same air.

then azzi whispers, “can i stay with you? i just…don’t want to be alone tonight.”

paige nods immediately. “yeah. of course.”

azzi takes her hand. her fingers are cold, but her grip is sure.

they walk quietly through the dark apartment. it’s a short walk, but it feels like it takes years. the lights are all off, but paige’s room glows faintly with the soft blue light of the tv she’d left on, a 2000s sitcom playing on mute.

paige opens the door and lets azzi step inside first. she watches her for a second, silhouetted against the light—still in the oversized hoodie, bare legs, face bare and soft. she’s never looked more unreal.

paige swallows hard, her pulse thudding in her ears.

azzi turns to face her. “you coming?”

paige steps in and closes the door behind her. something buzzes under her skin, in both a turned-on way and a bug-crawly way.

it’s dawning on her, now, with azzi standing there giving her bedroom eyes in her bedroom—she just kissed azzi fudd. she threw up on her then proceeded to be incredibly awkward for the entire tonight before trauma-dumping and has now pulled her.

azzi fudd. the fucking—love of her life. the celebrity crush of her goddamn dreams. is standing before her like some kind of bisexual goddess waiting to receive the best head of her life. and oh, will paige make sure it actually is the best head of her life. much better than chad’s, that’s for certain. if he even gave her head. he seems the type of guy to say it’s ’too gross’.

“paige?”

oh god. she’s been staring.

“hey,” azzi frowns, stepping towards her. “you okay? i can leave, or…”

“no,” paige says vehemently, also stepping forward, closing the gap between them. she wants to reach out, to pull azzi in, but she’s not sure if that’s what azzi really wants. maybe she just wants to sleep? not that paige isn’t down for snuggling, but she’s already hyped herself up for that whole head thing, and she’s not super willing to back down now. “i just…”

azzi looks at her, eyes searching her face before she looks down. her lips quirk up, and when she looks back at paige, she’s clearly amused. “i clocked you so hard earlier.”

“i…what?” paige asks.

azzi points. “your hands.”

paige looks down, and sure enough—she’s wringing her hands. like a nervous little wimp. she scoffs, pulling them apart and wiping them on her sweats before making a split-second decision, pulling azzi in by the waist. “you didn’t clock shit.”

“no?” azzi asks, smile growing a little. her hands are soft as they roam up paige’s arms before circling around the back of her neck. “so you’re not super nervous right now?”

“i’m not nervous,” paige is quick to correct. “just wondering what you want.”

azzi’s eyebrows rise, just a little. “oh?”

paige hadn’t really meant to say it, but what the hell. “uh-huh. you wanna tell me?”

“hm.” azzi looks up at her like she’s deliberating something, then smiles, coy and dimply, before stepping back slowly, taking paige with her. “i think…” she whispers, walking them back as if the room were her’s, until her thighs hit the edge of the bed. “i think i want you to give me some real pictures.”

paige quirks an eyebrow, sitting azzi down before kneeling in front of her, playing into the game. “for chad?” she wrinkles her nose as she says it. even his name is a turn-off. paige has no clue how azzi managed to have sex with that man. she imagines azzi saying something like, “oh, chad, yes!” and it turns her teasing smirk into something more like a barely-contained laugh.

azzi’s expression breaks, and it looks a little like she’s fighting a smile of her own. “ew, don’t say his name.”

unable to help it, paige chuckles, leaning her forehead against azzi’s thigh. “what do we call him, then?”

“nothing,” azzi says firmly, lifting paige’s chin and bending down so their nose-to-nose, biting her lip slightly as she studies her face. “i want you to give me those pictures,” she mutters, “let me prove him wrong. and then i want you to make me forget him.”

oh, paige can definitely do that.

without another word, paige surges forward and kisses her. it’s surer this time, steadier, now with the knowledge of what’s to come, not just tonight but tomorrow, and maybe—if paige lets herself dream—maybe even longer than that. based off the way azzi presses her tongue against the seam of her lips, paige thinks she might feel it, too.

paige opens up for her, pliant and willing, ready to do whatever azzi asks of her. azzi’s tongue is warm, wet, slippery against paige’s own and she groans at the feel of it, at the minty freshness of her own toothpaste that azzi had used.

“paige,” azzi breathes against her lips. paige hums, leaning forward again to close the small amount of distance. but azzi pulls back, just slightly, and when paige blinks her eyes open azzi’s looking at her urgently, pulling her up by the shoulders. “paige,” she repeats.

paige swears, she usually has so much more finesse in the bedroom. she once made a girl come in under sixty seconds. she convinced her ex to call her daddy, for god’s sakes. but this—this is azzi. and thus, she just stares blankly at her, mind trying desperately to figure out what azzi’s saying while her cunt pulses desperately in her boxers. “…huh?” she says after a moment.

azzi sighs, but there’s something in her eyes, and when paige looks hard enough she thinks maybe it’s fondness? but she doesn’t have time to discern that properly because then azzi is hooking her arms under paige’s armpits and all but hoisting her up into her lap, and that’s just…really fucking hot. paige doesn’t think she’s ever been hoisted before.

hands finding their ways to azzi’s shoulders, paige exhales, blinking rapidly in a desperate attempt to regain some of her rizz. “you’re really strong,” she says instead.

azzi presses her lips to the hinge of paige’s jaw, mumbling against her skin, “good observation.” her arms are steady around paige’s waist, holding her close, allowing for the best access, and paige shifts, hips moving subtly against azzi’s thighs.

azzi’s lips trail higher until she’s nipping at paige’s earlobe, and paige can so clearly hear the little noises coming from her now; soft pants and exhales like she’s trying hard to contain herself. and that just—that does it.

wordlessly, paige presses against azzi’s shoulders, urging her to lay down. azzi looks at her quizzically but goes willingly, getting comfortable against the pillows as paige crawls on top of her. she leans down for another kiss but azzi presses a hand to her chest, stopping her.

“want this off, first,” she says, tugging at the hem of paige’s shirt. “wanna feel you.”

paige is quick to oblige, reaching behind her head to pull the neckline, azzi helping her until the shirt’s off, discarded somewhere to the side. azzi’s eyes roam shamelessly, but not as shamelessly as her hands, which trail over her abs, her ribs, the taut muscles in her back.

“you’re—” she swallows hard, “you’re pretty strong too.”

paige mentally fist-pumps. “good observation, baby.”

shivering against the cool air of the room, paige presses one last kiss to azzi’s lips, lingering there and thinking she could stay like that forever before remembering her job. photos. head. make azzi forget chad.

she shifts down, dipping her head into azzi’s neck to kiss the warm skin there. she smells good, like hair products and perfume. her hands wander of their own accord, lifting azzi’s shirt just enough to reveal a small sliver of skin, a glinting belly piercing. god, she doesn’t think she’ll get enough of this girl.

“want this off you, too,” paige instructs quietly, searching azzi’s eyes for any hesitation, but there’s only heat as she pulls her shirt off in one swift motion. it take’s paige’s brain a few seconds to catch up with what her eyes are seeing—azzi, topless, skin dark against the white bedding, nipples pebbled from the temperature change.

paige makes a strangled noise at the back of her throat, completely aware she’s staring but unable to do anything about it, because she’s surely not going to look away. not when azzi is staring up at her like—like that, with hooded eyes and a small, teasing smile. she knows exactly what she’s doing, exactly what it’d do to paige by letting her find out for herself she isn’t wearing a bra, and it’s going to drive her fucking insane.

“paige,” azzi says.

paige’s eyes snap up from azzi’s chest, somewhat guiltily. “yeah?”

“you have me really fucking worked up right now,” azzi says bluntly. “and as much as i love watching you stare at me, i need you to actually come here and do something about it.”

that gets paige moving.

it’s instinctual, the way she dips her head down, nuzzles into the valley between azzi’s breasts. the way her tongue darts out to taste her skin, the way her palms cup the underside of azzi’s tits and push them up before she takes the stiff peak of one into her mouth.

azzi sighs, this small, satisfied sound which only serves to encourage paige further. she relaxes a little, allowing herself to get out of her own head because she knows this. she’s good at it. she knows without a doubt she can make azzi feel good and if she dies tomorrow, then she’ll die happy knowing she at least got to have this first. got to flick her tongue over azzi’s nipple and revel in the soft moan it elicits from her.

the sound sends a jolt of heat through paige’s stomach, straight to the apex of her thighs. she’s acutely aware of the way she and azzi’s legs are slotted together, the sinewy muscle of azzi’s bare thigh between her own, hovering just beneath her. paige has to make a conscious effort not to bear down onto her, not to search for any of the friction she so desperately needs.

paige pulls off azzi’s tit with a slight pop, admiring the way it looks now, glistening with her saliva. she had planned on making her way down the length of azzi’s body, but now she’s stuck here, watching intently as she rolls azzi’s nipples between her fingertips, loving the way azzi arches up into her. she glances up to catch her expression, and what she finds—mouth slightly ajar, eyes fluttered shut—has her leaning back up to capture her lips in another searing kiss. azzi groans, surprised at the contact, and when paige licks confidently into her mouth, she groans again, this time sounding a little strangled.

paige chuckles against her lips, trailing away to nose against her cheekbone. “what, you need sum’?”

azzi huffs, arms around paige’s neck pulling her insistently closer. “you’re teasing me.”

“well, i’on know what you want,” paige says, pressing soft kisses against azzi’s jaw.

azzi’s nails scratch a little punishingly into paige’s back. “i told you what i want.”

paige shudders at the pain, the starkness of it, the shivers it sends down her back. “yeah,” paige agrees, leaning up on her elbows to look into azzi’s eyes, “but you ain’t told me how you want it.”

azzi’s eyebrows furrow, a slight pout forming on her lips, and the expression is so cute compared to the compromising situation they’re in that paige almost gives in then and there. but she’s a spent the entire night making an absolute fool of herself in front of azzi, and this feels like her only opportunity to show her just what she can do, what she can be, when she wants to.

and, shit, does she want to.

“gotta use your words, mami,” paige tells her, looking down at her with something like sympathy even as her tone is commanding, and it has the desired effect: azzi’s breath hitches, cheeks flushing, eyes squeezing shut like she’s collecting herself before she meets paige’s again.

“want your mouth, paige,” she whispers, almost like she’s embarrassed to be saying it out loud. “your tongue.”

somewhere in her aroused haze, paige registers that this must mean they’re soulmates or something, that they both want the same thing. she tucks that little thought away for later (she knows kk will agree when she tells her about it) and then nods, pressing a kiss to azzi’s forehead, just below her bonnet. “good girl,” she murmurs, testing the waters, and based off the way azzi exhales this shaky little whimper, she figures she’s probably into it. also good to know.

paige takes azzi’s forearms in her hands and withdraws them from around her neck, sitting back on her knees in between azzi’s legs. she hooks her fingers around her own basketball shorts, which sit tantalizingly on azzi’s hips—she doesn’t think she’s ever described basketball shorts as tantalizing before—and raises her eyebrows at azzi. azzi nods, lifting her hips off the bed, just enough that paige is able to easily pull them over the swell of her ass. azzi lifts her feet up, allowing paige to pull the fabric completely off and toss them away before she presses a kiss to each of her ankles. azzi watches her closely, hands fondling her own breasts in a way that makes paige want to put her mouth back on them, but then she’s glancing down at the exposed core between azzi’s thighs and there is nothing else that could possibly be more important than that, ever.

she sets azzi’s legs on the bed before shifting, laying herself flat on her stomach with her arms propped up beneath her until she’s hovering over azzi’s pelvis, admiring the smooth skin there and the belly ring that sits a few inches higher. she bends down, nuzzling her nose against the soft, curly hair she finds there, pressing a kiss and then many more along the expanse of skin until she reaches a hipbone. she bites, just roughly enough to make a mark, and azzi hisses above her.

paige’s eyes flick up, double-checking, but azzi looks more than okay—in fact, she looks downright impatient. when their eyes meet, she nods urgently at her. “get on with it.”

paige raises an eyebrow at the attitude but doesn’t comment on it just yet, instead pressing a kiss to the other hipbone before saying, “oh, you want more?”

azzi sighs at the coy tone in paige’s voice. “paige.”

“mm,” paige hums. “you sound frustrated, baby.”

“yeah, well,” azzi shifts uncomfortably, “it’s frustrating when you tease me like this.”

“yeah?” paige asks. she rests her cheek against azzi’s thigh, allowing her fingers to trail up and down the inside of her other one, getting close to where she needs her but never close enough. “you’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?” she muses.

“fuck you,” azzi says, no real venom there as annoyance mixes with amusement in her eyes.

“i will,” paige promises, kissing her thigh, “princess.”

azzi opens her mouth to speak again. paige cuts her off with a harsh bite to the place she just kissed, turning her almost-sentence into a high-pitched whine instead.

“fuck,” azzi mutters.

paige inspects the bite—that will definitely be a mark tomorrow—and then shushes her gently, brushing her lips over the spot. “if you catch an attitude with me again,” she murmurs, almost sweet, “you’ll find how much worse i can be.”

azzi’s hips lift, surprise etching itself slowly into the lines of her face as she registers the words, but paige doesn’t take the time to look too close. azzi is spread before her, enticing, dripping, caramel brown giving way to soft pink, and she finally lets herself do what she’s dreamed of doing since she was in high school—she buries her fucking face in it.

azzi’s reaction is immediate and more intense than paige expected it would be, her back and hips arching off the bed as she groans, loud. paige doesn’t even care that arousal has just been smeared all over her forehead. she’s far too busy committing the way azzi tastes, sweet and salty, to memory.

the build-up paid off, as it always does, and azzi’s soaked. paige’s tongue laves wet heat from her entrance to her clit, building her up to a slow rhythm. she lingers a little each time at her entrance, where the taste is the strongest, unable to conceal her own choked sounds as azzi grinds against her face. she glances up to where azzi is playing with her nipples, propped up on her elbows to get a better look at what paige is doing, and the knowledge that she’s being watched so intently has her doubling down on her efforts.

when paige’s movements speed up, azzi’s head tips back, rolling against her shoulders. “oh, paige,” she breathes, sensual and dirty, “oh, baby. feels…”

paige presses her own thighs together at the pet name before flicking her tongue back and forth against azzi’s clit, applying pressure until azzi falls back completely, head thumping against the pillows as she whines. distantly, paige thinks kk could almost definitely hear them if she were to listen for it. she finds she doesn’t really care at the moment.

“feels good?” paige asks, pressing a few soft kisses to azzi’s cunt.

“mm-hmm,” azzi hums, eyes closed as she focuses on the feeling. her hands travel south until they’re gripping the back of paige’s head, and then she’s tugging her closer, back into her heat. “keep going, baby. please.”

“since you asked so nice,” paige teases, letting azzi’s hands guide her forward. she opens her mouth a little wider, sucking hard against azzi’s hole as if trying to draw more precum out of her before she kisses sloppily against it. azzi’s legs fall further open at the feeling, but paige quickly misses the feeling of thighs pressed against her head and loops her arm under the brunette’s legs, surrounding herself with soft brown skin.

the new angle brings her impossibly closer to azzi’s center, and paige sticks her tongue out, seeking azzi’s entrance before pressing inside as far as she can.

“oh my fuck,” azzi groans, gripping paige’s head tighter, almost possessive. “keep doing that, right—“ she chokes on her own words as paige begins a slow thrust, “right there.”

paige nods, unsure whether azzi can feel the acknowledgment, but it has her nose bumping up against azzi’s swollen clit and azzi cries out. she moves her tongue, feeling around the spongy inner walls of azzi’s cunt, a new wave of arousal pumping out until it’s dripping down paige’s chin onto the bedsheets below.

the room isn’t quiet, but it sounds like sex, azzi’s breathy moans and the filthy wet sounds of her cunt filling the room. she sounds so good, tastes so good, smells so good—paige is only vaguely aware that she has her own pelvis pressed into the mattress, absentmindedly searching for friction as she gets off on pleasing azzi.

she’s so focused on tonguing her that she doesn’t notice the way azzi’s breathing changes, becomes more rapid, or the way her fingers fist up paige’s hair in a way that’s almost painful. in fact, it’s not until she presses her thumb to azzi’s swollen clit while she tongue-fucks her that azzi manages a broken, “oh my god, i’m fucking—!“ that paige realizes she’s going to come.

azzi’s orgasm hits her in waves, it seems, with her hips pressing into paige’s mouth so intensely she can’t breathe for a solid thirty seconds before she’s abruptly pulling away, thighs shaking with the effort. paige watches in something like amazement as her stomach tenses, her cunt pulsing and clenching around nothing, clit twitching almost imperceptibly. it is—fucking beautiful, actually. a work of goddamn art. an image that belongs in the louvre right next to the mona lisa and the venus de milo.

she’s about to dive back in and get another taste of it when azzi uses her grip on her hair to urge her up. reluctantly, paige lets herself be pulled, kissing a gentle path up azzi’s stomach before coming face-to-face with her, thumbs brushing her cheeks as she comes down. eyes still closed, azzi pulls her closer, bumping their foreheads together.

“so pretty,” paige can’t help but mutter, watching azzi’s lashes flutter against her cheeks, lips plump and shiny and parted. “so good for me, baby. did so good.”

after another few moments, azzi opens her eyes, looking at paige like she hung the stars in the sky or something.

“i think i just fell in love with you,” she croaks, and paige laughs, pressing a kiss to her damp forehead. “heard that one before.”

azzi smacks her lightly, then pulls her head down, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips before urging her to lay on her chest. paige presses her cheek to azzi’s heartbeat, their breathing gradually syncing up as they lay together. azzi’s nails scratch light patterns against paige’s back, nearly lulling her to sleep, before she abruptly stops and says, “oh, shit.”

“what?” paige asks sleepily.

“we forgot to get pictures.”

paige swears her ears perk up, and she thinks she might be just a little insatiable because she doesn’t feel so tired anymore as she lifts her head with a wicked grin. “damn,” she says. “guess we’ll have to go again.”

the next day, kk gives them hell for keeping her up all night, and gives azzi many earfuls about how she ‘told her so.’ paige offers up their room for the rest of the trip, even though they ultimately proved chad wrong with some certain photos, and azzi is all too quick to take her up on it.

and when, a year later, azzi transfers to uconn? let’s just say kk will swear up and down that she’s the reason they never lose another game to ucla.

[biteyoubiteme]

You dont get how excited i was seeing that you posted this fic ive read it like three times and i realized i never reblogged it im sorry ;--;; but i LOVE this fic okay i love it sm you have no idea The engine roars in your ears as you bolt across the finish line, your car skidding and screeching to a halt. The cheers and claps of the crowd rise to an almost deafening crescendo, and you grip the steering wheel tight with furrowed brows, being able to feel how sweaty your forehead had become, adrenaline still surging through your veins as you pant heavily. A quick glance at the leaderboard tells you the result: Second. Fucking. Place. Like just from the start im so hooked- 

“Hardwork, my ass. His daddy got him connections and sponsorships, that’s why. He thinks he can just waltz in with that stupid smile and—oh my god, he’s winking at me. I’m going to fucking kill him.” Sure enough, Beomgyu catches your eye roll and winks your way before saying something to the reporters that makes them hysterically laugh. When i tell you i giggle and love love love love love rivals to lovers so much like the cockieness that can only be reached with rivals just heals something in me and this did just that i love it uuuuuggghhh

Taehyun shrugs, “He grows on you. I guess.” “Yeah, like a nasty mould.” im giggling and kicking my feet over this i love them ><

There is one thing you’ve never told anyone about. Not your teammates, not taehyun, and that is when you, of all people, made out with Choi Beomgyu one awfully unlucky night. Jumping around my room rn you cant see it but believe it- 

What you do remember though was looking at him, really looking at him, in the shifting, almost epileptic lights of the club. How big and brown his eyes were, how long and thick his eyelashes were and how they fluttered like a doll every time he blinked. How plump and pouty his lips were, especially now that he was drunk, he just kept on pouting his lips and his cheeks were flushed all rosy from all the alcohol he’d had. His long wolfcut was messy by now, bangs falling into his eyes. I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE ABOUT HOW PRETTY BEOMGYU IS 

The final lap is chaos, the audience on their feet now. You’re so incredibly angry, but you can’t let that get to you and hinder your focus, you clench your teeth, gripping your steering wheel so tight your knuckles are white, you’re even more determined to win than before. Okay but im on the edge of my seat over this race like its irl and i dont know whats going to happen like i love it sm

"You fucking cheated!" You shout, jabbing a finger at his chest. He blinks innocently, tilting his head in a puppy like way. "Me? Cheat? That’s a very serious accusation to make. I’d never." There’s a slight smugness to him, almost mocking, he’s not even pissed he didn’t win like you’d wanted him to be, just calm and collected and being a bitch. It makes you even more livid with him. THE RIVALS ARE BEING RIVALS AND I LOVE IT ITS MAKING MY BITE MY FIST AND KICK MY FEET BEHIND ME LIKE IM SO SAT AND OBSESSED WITH THEM- 

Something inside you just snaps. It infuriates you how you’re the one who won and yet, you feel small. Why is he the one sneering at you? That should be you! You want to have the upper hand over him, some semblance of control— just like that night again when he was putty in your hands. And so, before you can even register what you yourself are about to do, you grab him by his jacket, smashing your lips against his. He melts almost instantly, kissing you back so fervently and eagerly, as if he’d been waiting this whole time for this to happen. And you can’t lie, it felt almost euphoric to have his soft lips back on yours again. Almost like an addict getting their fix after a long withdrawal. EEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKK ><

but there’s a look of almost, somewhat hurt on his face. APOLOGIZE TO HIM AND ME FOR THIS ENDING EVIL!!! (i love this fic sm) 

☆ Drive you mad !

genre: racer au, smut, e2l, rivals , crack

Pairings: sub ! race car driver ! beomgyu x dom ! gn race car driver reader (afab when comes to smut)

Warnings: kinda public sex, bratty beomgyu, sub beomgyu, grinding/palming, edging, creampie, riding, hand job, degrading, sex in a car, clubbing, alcohol, hair pulling, tit sucking, use of names ‘good boy’, ‘whore’

Word count: 4.7k

The engine roars in your ears as you bolt across the finish line, your car skidding and screeching to a halt. The cheers and claps of the crowd rise to an almost deafening crescendo, and you grip the steering wheel tight with furrowed brows, being able to feel how sweaty your forehead had become, adrenaline still surging through your veins as you pant heavily. A quick glance at the leaderboard tells you the result:

Second. Fucking. Place.

You grit your teeth, rather aggressively slamming the door shut, and getting out of the car. Yanking off your helmet, you storm over to where Kang Taehyun, your ever-calm, teammate, was leaning casually against the pit wall, sipping on his water bottle from the last round he had just raced himself. You on the other hand, are seconds away from combusting.

“Fuck him.” You seethe and grumble, arms crossed as both of your gazes switch to focus on Choi Beomgyu in the centre, soaking up the spotlight a few metres away, gesturing animatedly for the cameras with sparkling eyes, a stupid smirk and very satisifed look on his face as he tucked his helmet under one arm. He’s surrounded and swarmed by reporters with god knows how many microphones shoved in his face who hang onto his every single word like he was some goddamn deity.

He basks in it, always loved the attention. You wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to win every race solely for the purpose of being met with cameras and praises at the end. It’s like he got off on that shit. Attention seeker.

“What a fucking nepo baby.” You scoff and taehyun laughs, always amused for your hate towards Choi Beomgyu. But it was true, he was only here because his father was a famous legendary racer back in the day, his racing career practically gift wrapped by him at a young age. Choi Beomgyu had everything handed to him on a silver platter whilst you had to claw your way through to get where you are now. But, it seems to be that you’re the only one who has a problem with him. Everyone else adores him, the 'golden boy'.

“Oh—hehe. Stop it. Thank you! Yeah, honestly it’s all about hard work.” You hear him gush and chuckle in faux shyness and humbleness, waving his hand dismissively, eyes shaped into little crescent moons and running a hand through his long soft brown hair. “But I don’t think I’m that good personally heh.”

You can’t help how hard your eyes roll at that, muttering more insults under your breath only taehyun can hear who's certainly more than entertained. “Hardwork, my ass. His daddy got him connections and sponsorships, that’s why. He thinks he can just waltz in with that stupid smile and—oh my god, he’s winking at me. I’m going to fucking kill him.”

Sure enough, Beomgyu catches your eye roll and winks your way before saying something to the reporters that makes them hysterically laugh. The audacity. You have half the mind of walking over there and strangling him right in front of the cameras. That surely wouldn’t end your career right? Or worse yet, put you in prison.

As the crowd around him finally disperses and fizzles out, Beomgyu confidently saunters over to you and taehyun, helmet still tucked under his arm and still grinning annoyingly.

“Oh no.” Taehyun chuckles, throwing a knowing look your way and nodding to the direction of beomgyu, “Incoming.”

“Fuck my life.” You mutter, taking a big breath in, bracing yourself for the worst.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favourite fan.” Beomgyu’s grin widens as he reaches you, snickering. He ignores your scoff in return, turning to taehyun instead with a smile and clapping his back. “Hey, Tae. Drinks after this? A bunch of us are going.”

“Yeah, I’m in. Congrats on first place today by the way.” Taehyun replies giving him a bro hug. To this day, you still can’t understand how taehyun can stand him. But Beomgyu has a lot of friends, and like you said, you really are the only one who dislikes him.

“How can you even hang out with him?” You make the most disgusted face you can muster towards Beomgyu to show the pure utter hatred you feel to him.

Beomgyu practically puffs out his chest, already expecting to be backed up and stood up against by taehyun.

Taehyun shrugs, “He grows on you. I guess.”

“Yeah, like a nasty mould.”

Beomgyu deflates, taking great offence, mouth hanging open and frowning, pouting at the both of you now laughing and high-fiving each other.

Beomgyu’s intense gaze then returns back to you. Taehyun, addressing the situation, and knowing how both your bantering can escalate, sees it’s best to leave, walking away to leave you alone with the cockroach. “Right, so as entertaining as this has been, I’m going to go now…preferably anywhere else...”

“What about you, y/n? No congratulations?” Beomgyu mocks and sighs boastfully once Taehyun has left. His voice dripping with that sickeningly playful lilt that always makes your blood boil. “No heartfelt speech on how I inspire you to be better? But hey, second place isn’t so bad.”

You narrow your eyes, standing up straight. “You won by, like,” you scoff, “a millisecond at best. Don’t get all cocky. It was just pure luck.”

He laughs, raising an eyebrow at you. “Oh, come on, I didn’t think you were such a sore loser. It’s called strategy.”

“Strategy?” you repeat incredulously, “The only strategy you have is relying on your last name to get you ahead.”

“God, you’re still on that? I feel like you’re just using that as an excuse to use still. Just admit I’m as good as you. Better, even. I’ve won one more race than you now~”

The two of you kept a tally of how many races you both have won, you’ve had the same exact score as him for ages now, obviously, not anymore. But you’ll win next time, just he waits.

He takes a step closer to you, waiting and expecting you to make a snarky comeback at him like you always do as you angrily stare him down and he does the same.

For a second, just one second, your eyes flicker down to his lips and suddenly, you’re brought back to an incident that occurred a few months ago. A memory you’ve tried—and failed—to forget.

There is one thing you’ve never told anyone about. Not your teammates, not taehyun, and that is when you, of all people, made out with Choi Beomgyu one awfully unlucky night.

⸝⸝

THE SAID AWFULLY UNLUCKY NIGHT YOU AND CHOI BEOMGYU MADE OUT:

The nightclub was packed with racers, sponsors, and fans celebrating the after party of a big end of season race, air heavy with the scent of alcohol and sweat. You nursed your drink, leaning against the bar.

Of course, Beomgyu was at the centre of the dance floor, surrounded by a group of admirers, his laughter ringing out over the music. He was never hard to spot, the centre of attention always.

"Ugh," you muttered under your breath, taking another sip of your drink.

“And you’re still staring?” Taehyun had teased, sitting beside you.

"I’m not staring.” You snapped, rolling your eyes. "I’m wondering how he manages to be so insufferable and stupid all the time."

“Sure,” Taehyun stifles a laugh, raising his glass to you. “Just don’t kill each other before the next race.”

You down the last of your drink, slamming it on the bar counter and ordering another, “Can’t promise that.”

The rest of the night is a blur to you. Too many drinks, too many spinning lights, and far too much proximity to Beomgyu.

You’re not one to get shitfaced drunk. You prefer the comfortable state of slight tipsiness and anything other than that is not fun for you, because why would someone want to be so drunk off their ass to the point of throwing up and not being aware of their surroundings? Usually, you’d chastise people like that, wondering how they can’t even manage how much they drink. But on that night, you’d had one too many to count, you were drunk, too drunk. Not the comfortable tipsiness that you’re used to.

You know that at one point, either you or Beomgyu had come up to the other and the normal bickering had ensued. You know he was just as drunk as you so whatever you both were arguing about probably made no sense at all.

What you do remember though was looking at him, really looking at him, in the shifting, almost epileptic lights of the club.

How big and brown his eyes were, how long and thick his eyelashes were and how they fluttered like a doll every time he blinked. How plump and pouty his lips were, especially now that he was drunk, he just kept on pouting his lips and his cheeks were flushed all rosy from all the alcohol he’d had. His long wolfcut was messy by now, bangs falling into his eyes.

He looked different that night, too. Not the usual racing suit and helmet, but a stylish black suit with his shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a silver necklace glinting against his skin.

All in all, beomgyu was a pretty boy. You get why he had a lot of fans.

He was still going on about something to you, slurring his words, probably insulting you, and the only logical solution to shut him up in your inebriated state at that moment, was to kiss his pouty lips. Luckily, you both were at the very corner of the nightclub shrouded in darkness, everyone else too busy dancing and whatnot to see you both.

You remember him gasping when you grabbed the collar of his black shirt, yanking him down and pressing your lips aggressively against his, but he kissed you back almost instantly, without a second thought.

You weren’t very gentle with him, pushing him forcefully against the wall even further and tugging at his necklace. The way you were making out with him was just pouring out all your anger you’ve felt towards him for years. But, he just let you. He let you do anything to him and you were surprised, so different to the cocky and confident beomgyu you knew. And that sheer control he let you have over him for once felt so good, you didn’t want to stop.

That, and the fact Choi Beomgyu was also just really good at kissing, he made it so difficult to pull away at all, lips so soft and plump and addictive, making you want more and more and more.

But, you never spoke an utterance of it afterwards, he never brought it up, neither did you. And honestly, it felt so surreal, making out with the Choi Beomgyu, the one who you no doubtedly hate his guts and him kissing you back so pliantly? You’d believe it more if it was all just a hallucination. You were so drunk you wouldn’t be surprised if you made it all up, dreamt it even. Maybe it was someone else you made out with and you were so drunk you can’t remember. It’d make more sense than Choi Beomgyu.

Although, you do find yourself thinking about the makeout session often times than not, his lips on yours just felt so good. Too good. It was like, the best makeout you’ve had in your life and you curse it for being him. Why he had to be the one whose lips you still thought about? you don’t know. You’re certain he had forgotten and you wish you could have just like he seemed to.

But anyway, fuck that and fuck him.

⸝⸝

"What? Cat got your tongue?" Beomgyu is still sneering at you, awaiting your comeback but you can’t think well at the moment.

Your face heats, and you shove past him. “Go to hell, Choi.”

And his laughter follows behind you as you walk away. Oh, how he infuriates you.

You have one goal: beat Choi Beomgyu. Today is the day you finally get to race against him again. He’d held that last victory over your head, taunting you endlessly, with that invigorating, stupid smirk of his and you’d had more than enough. Today was your chance to shut him up and kick his ass. You’ll put him in his place and win. You’d been waiting for this.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to another thrilling showdown! All eyes are on the two front runners y/n and Choi Beomgyu. These rivals have been neck and neck all season. Beomgyu won the last race but will he win again? Will today decide who’s truly on top?” The commentator’s voices boom over the loudspeakers.

The flagman waves the green flag, you slam on the gas pedal and you’re off, surging forward.

It wasn’t an easy race, beomgyu seemed motivated to win too. He was always either just ahead or just behind, not far enough for it be satisfactory, but nail bitingly tense, as anything could happen any moment. And right now, ahead, just barely, was him, blocking every attempt you made to overtake him.

“Y/n’s looking for an opening,” the commentators shout. “But Beomgyu’s defensive driving is flawless so far. Look at that precision!”

Loud noises of the engines are all you can hear, filling your ears as you manoeuvre around sharp turns, tires screeching against the asphalt. The laps all blur together but you’re nearing the end now.

You managed to get alongside him on the straight, your cars almost touching, crowd going wild as you both enter the next corner side by side, dangerously close.

“Neither driving is moving an inch!”

Suddenly, beomgyu’s car swerves towards yours, bumping and hitting at yours with such force, a dirty, blatant attempt at running you off the track and then he overtakes you. You gasp, fighting to stabilise your car, narrowly avoiding a spin. That was a new low, even for Choi Beomgyu. He’d never cheated like that before and you’re absolutely enraged.

The final lap is chaos, the audience on their feet now. You’re so incredibly angry, but you can’t let that get to you and hinder your focus, you clench your teeth, gripping your steering wheel so tight your knuckles are white, you’re even more determined to win than before.

The last stretch looms ahead and he’s just razor thin ahead of you, in the last second, you see your opening. Beomgyu had oversteered slightly on the turn, just enough for you to slip past him, you speed ahead.

“AND Y/N TAKES THE WIN IN A SPECTACULAR FINISH! THEY’VE DONE IT! WHAT A RACE!”

You crossed the line first. By a hair.

Everyone erupts, but your satisfaction is short-lived. Beomgyu’s cheating had completely soured your victory. The fucking nerve of him.

You barely register the reporters swarming you, bombarding your face with microphones. “Y/n! how does it feel to take first place?!”

“An incredible performance today, what was going through your mind?!”

The post race interview is a haze of forced smiles and generic answers. You’re barely listening as the reporters barrage you with questions. You’re still so pissed off at Beomgyu.

When it’s finally over, you make your way to the garage and that’s where you spot him leaning casually against his car, arms crossed in a nonchalant way. You clench your fists, blood boiling as you storm over to him. He’d crossed the line, well, not literally this time, but definitely fucking figuratively.

"You fucking cheated!" You shout, jabbing a finger at his chest.

He blinks innocently, tilting his head in a puppy like way. "Me? Cheat? That’s a very serious accusation to make. I’d never." There’s a slight smugness to him, almost mocking, he’s not even pissed he didn’t win like you’d wanted him to be, just calm and collected and being a bitch. It makes you even more livid with him.

“You intentionally tried to cause a collision with me. You should have been penalised. I don’t know how you weren’t!”

“Yeah, and you still won. So why are you even mad?” He crosses his arms and shrugs, ridiculing you. “If you can’t handle that maybe you should switch to something lighter like go karting instead.”

"Can’t handle?!" You splutter, looking at him in pure disbelief, your voice rising. "You arrogant, nepotistic, spoilt brat!-” Each insult punctuated with a sharp poke to his chest and, yet he still finds it all funny, bursting out into laughter at you.

Something inside you just snaps. It infuriates you how you’re the one who won and yet, you feel small. Why is he the one sneering at you? That should be you! You want to have the upper hand over him, some semblance of control— just like that night again when he was putty in your hands.

And so, before you can even register what you yourself are about to do, you grab him by his jacket, smashing your lips against his. He melts almost instantly, kissing you back so fervently and eagerly, as if he’d been waiting this whole time for this to happen. And you can’t lie, it felt almost euphoric to have his soft lips back on yours again. Almost like an addict getting their fix after a long withdrawal.

The kissing becomes heated fast, sounds of your mouths smacking filling the echoing garage as he lets you take over his mouth completely, letting you bite and pull at his bottom lip, emitting soft little gasps at this.

Even for the second time, it was disorienting seeing Beomgyu like this, nothing like the beomgyu you knew on the track or in the spotlight, and now with no alcohol in your system, neither of you could even blame whatever was going on right now on that. It’s all too intoxicating. It takes everything in you to pull back for air.

You push him against his car with more force than necessary, and Beomgyu stumbles slightly before sitting down on the top of the hood. His eyes are blown wide, flustered as you stand between his splayed legs, cupping his cheek and kissing him again, him responding immediately. This is how you like him. Your kisses trail down his jaw and the column of his neck, when you suck on his adam’s apple, he lets out a sharp intake and gasp, tilting his head back to give you more access, he already seems worked up from just a few kisses. Was his neck really that sensitive?

When your hand slides down to palm him through his trousers, his breath hitches and his jaw goes slack. “Oh…b-but we’re in public…” his cheeks flush a deep red and he protests weakly, plump lips all swollen and glossy and wet from the intense making out.

You raise a brow. “So you want me to stop?” You keep grinding your palm against his very hard length now, sucking on his neck and he shudders and whines cutely, very clearly enjoying it.

“W-wait no….” So you continue, he’s panting as you palm him, rutting into your hand himself. You pull back just enough to look at him, so dumb and lost in pleasure, lips parted with soft breathy moans and gasps as he chases the small friction you give him, his brows knitting together.

You roll your eyes at the sight of him, “Trying to run me off the track? You’re pathetic, beomgyu.”

“Pathetic?” He scoffs, still having the nerve to act like a brat when it’s all crumbling. “h-hah, if anyone’s pathetic it’s you—s-shit y/n—please. I need more, please.” Completely contradicting himself, because if there was only one word to describe him exactly right now, it would be pathetic.

“Admit it. Say you’re nothing but a dirty cheater first.”

“You wish.”

“Okay. I’ll leave you like this. All hard and horny.”

He hesitates, scowling, debating whether or not to challenge you, but when you stop all contact of palming and kissing his neck, starting to step away, he caves in.

“Wait!” He blurts, grasping at your wrist, eyes wide and pleading. “I’m…fine. Fine! I’m nothing but a dirty a cheater...” His face burns, embarrassed, humiliated, his pride hurt. The admission sends a thrill through you, he’s always been so full of himself, but now he’s just a needy pathetic mess for you. You’re having so much fun.

You grin. “Aw. What a good boy.” You coo sarcastically. The words have an instant effect on him though, whole body tensing and cheeks blooming into an even more impossibly vivid red and he whines, hands clutching at your hips to bring you back as he still sits pliantly on the hood of his car.

You unzip his pants, flushed pretty cock already leaking, slapping at his tummy and you brush your thumb over his sensitive tip, spreading the bead of pre-cum that gathered there slowly, watching his reaction and he looks down at the action himself, drawing out a helpless shudder and whimper from him. He groans, eyes half lidded when you wrap your hand around his cock, moving up and down with a deliberate slowness that makes his breath hitch every few seconds and whine.

“God, you’re so easy, beomgyu. Are you this much of a whore all the time?” You murmur and tease, dragging your teeth over his cute earlobe, ears all red, feeling him shiver.

“Shut”, he whimpers cutely, “up. I-i could…ah…fuck you stupid right now.” He retaliates or attempts to, but his hands grip the edge of the hood like he’s barely holding himself upright.

You laugh. “Oh, really? Because you look pretty wrecked already.” He was so fucked out right now, you wonder if he’d even be able to take it when you actually fuck him.

He’s still trying to keep up the pretense of resistance. “I’m not wrecked. You’re—” You pump his cock at a ruthless pace, jerking him off fast, occasionally toying with the slit on the head of cock and his body goes limp under you touch, moaning out prettily and loudly, eyes squeezing shut and panting, chest heaving. He clings to you now, head buried in your neck, practically drooling, body jerking with every stroke. He still attempts to bite back at you but they come out as dumb babbles and mumbles of nonsense, mewling and gasping, completely at your mercy.

Beomgyu whines and moans deliriously. “F-fuck! Oh—need to cum. C-can’t.” He removes his head from your neck to look up at you with glossy doe eyes, so wrecked and hanging on by a thread. You move your hand up and down his dick unrelentingly and before he’s just about to cum, you pull your hand off him.

The pained, frustrated cry that escapes him is deliciously pathetic. His hips jerk into the air desperately to chase the sensation, but it’s long gone now. He looks at you in shock, eyes wide in utter betrayal and devastation, and now wet with tears of frustration. But then he frowns and scowls, annoyed he didn’t get to cum. “What the fuck was that for?” He pouts.

“I could think of a lot honestly. But, don’t you want to cum inside me?”

His jaw hangs open. “Please. Yes.” Beomgyu breathes out, nodding fervently and looking at you with puppy eyes, pupils dilating and dazed at the thought alone.

Sliding off the hood, beomgyu takes your hand like an obedient puppy, and you open the car door. He sits in his driver’s seat, his flushed face tilted up to watch you as you climb onto his lap. You rid yourself of your own clothes, watching as his gaze drops immediately to your bare tits, breath catching and lips parting as he stares, seemingly captivated. He’s so stupid.

You grab his dick and use the head to rub your clit, making him let out little stuttered gasps, sliding him over your entrance and folds a few times before you sink slowly down completely. The feeling of your warm tight pussy making him go cross eyed as he groans, sucking in air and throwing his head back, grasping at your waist, furrowing his brows and mouth in an ‘o’ shape, you beginning to ride him.

It’s so hot and cramped and sweaty in the car now as you bounce on his dick continuously, being able to hear the obscene slapping and sticky noises so loudly. Beomgyu looks in a state of absolute, pure bliss, moaning like a bitch, mind all fogged up and mushy at the feeling of your pussy, his messy damp bangs falling into his eyes so all you can see is his very glistening round lips, still in that sustained ‘o’ shape, just so dumbed and fucked out.

He’s a gorgeous wreck, thick doll-like lashes fluttering. If only everyone else could see Choi Beomgyu like this right now. It feels so empowering and satisfying after all these years of him being so infuriating. You love how, despite his attempts at being bratty, he’s so docile and such a simple whore.

You tangle your hands in his hair and tug and pull every so often, which he clearly very likes if the high and strained moans are anything to show for this. His hands squeeze at your tits when it feels too good for him. His lips latch onto one of your nipples, tongue flicking over it and sucking and kissing as he looks up at you with his big brown eyes. When you deliberately clamp your pussy tightly around him, he moans out your name in response, muffled from him still sucking your tits needily, body slightly jerking.

“You remember, don’t you?—at the club?” You ask, although it was probably obvious by now.

Beomgyu pauses for a moment, popping his wet droolly mouth off your boobs, eyes darting away for a moment before returning to look at you, nodding vigorously, “of course I remember…l-liked it.” You cup his cheek again, kissing beomgyu hard, hands still tangled in his hair, tugging, fucking him mercilessly as he moans softly against your lips. “Oh god, m’ sso close. Can I cum?”

You nod, kissing him some more, “Cum for me, beomie.”

“Holyy s-shitt—” Beomgyu’s eyes roll to the back of his head, squeezing one of your tits as if for support, his back arches, his tongue lolling out dumbly, whole body trembling and shaking. You bring one of your hands to your clit, rubbing and riding yourself on him harder. With a choked off scream, he spills so much of his cum inside you, and the gorgeous sight brings you over the edge too, cumming as well.

He doesn’t pull out though, burying his face in your neck, gasping for air, groaning and clinging to you tightly, he’s still shuddering and you can feel little spurts of his cum still dribbling in you, pussy completely milking him.

The two of you sat in the car still afterwards in a slightly awkward silence. Both of you panting, trying to come down from your highs, left to fully take in what had just happened and also how thoughtless it was. Fucking Choi beomgyu in the garage? You’re incredibly lucky no one walked in. It wasn’t even like both of you were trying to be quiet either, none of that running through your mind at that moment. What if someone had heard?

Beomgyu, for once, was quiet, his usual smirk replaced with a dazed expression, so far gone. He leans slowly towards you though, looking as if he was about to kiss you again.

“This…this doesn’t mean anything by the way.” You mutter, beginning to button up your shirt.

Beomgyu scoffs, running a hands through his hair. “Doesn’t feel like nothing.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t. At all.” You roll your eyes, trying not to freak out, you open the car door, wanting more than anything to just get out. You walk away, leaving him there, disheveled and barely clothed, still slumped in the driver’s seat. And you don’t see it, but there’s a look of almost, somewhat hurt on his face.

A/n: happy new year !!<3 please give this lots of love it was such a bitch to write idk why but I really struggled with this 😭 also I’m so sorry to all the racing fans if makes no sense, I just made up my own kind of racing competition thing. Also the cars do not look anything like f1 cars 😭 more kind of like the nascar ones so they can actually fuck in it 😭 idk bro. I know no nothing about cars or racing. Also I’m sorry if the smut seems rushed and messy, I haven’t edited it and I was lowkey rushing to get this out

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s incredibly discouraging and disappointing when fics have such little reblogs ☹️👎🤨. At least send an anon in the inbox if you don’t want to rb, don’t just like. Feedback is always appreciated it makes writers want to actually write more :)

[gay-dorito-dust]

* re-corporates*

Hello again, sorry

Could I get some headcanons for a male [or gender nutral] reader who's a diva. Think the Emma frost kind. Bad bitch who's so cut throat when defending the team from the public view or like if Valentina is giving them shit.

"The only publicity cover up we need is that ratty wig you have on Valentina.😮‍💨>:["

However would literally lay down his life for anyone on the team and actively goes out of his way to make them more comfortable. Like demands them be treated well.

I love your work goodbye 👋

the second you all were called the new avengers, you wanted to wrangle Valentina's neck for the shit storm she was subjecting you all to.

You knew people wouldn't take too kindly to your group of assasins and super soldiers with blood on their hands being called a name that was once synonomous with indivisuals who might as well have been gods and worshiped as such.

you knew that things from here on out would be a constant uphill battle, where you'd be faced with countless obsticles for you and the team to overcome on your own.

after Yelena told Valentina that they 'own her now' you put your hand on the assassins shoulder, gave her a smile, before moving to lean towards Valentina where your smile became a malicious sneer. 'hopefully with all that money you'll get for these gullible lot, you'll be able to actually get your hair done professionally, and not have to rely on the bathroom mirror and the pair of siscors that i know you use to sort out those god awful dead ends of yours.'

you weren't done as you then later added. 'also if you try and use any one of my team as scapegoats in the media the second you can't control the narrative, i will come for your throat. do i make myself clear.' you threatned.

'crystal, you have my word.' Valentina replied with a tight lipped smile. you weren't convinced and she could tell, you would do anything in your power to keep your team safe, people you didn't give two shit about twenty mintues ago are now the people you would raise hell for in order to keep them out of the public eye should you see it was getting to them.

this mainly being john walker, whom seemingly only ever cared about how the general public and press saw him as; a failure replacement of steve rogers who went rouge and killed a man in broad daylight.

'i'll believe it when i see it De Fontaine. so actually try and make it believable.' you mockingly spat before taking your spot between Yelena and Alexei, flashing the public a fake smile that would've fooled anyone and everyone becuase it was just enough to keep people from looking at your teammates and keep the public focus on you and you alone.

you did not fuck about when it came to your teammates, you wanted them to be okay and to have a much more comfortable living within the tower, all the while trying not to wince and scowl at the...decorative choices Valentina made to the place and actively made the choice to throw them out. Ava and Yelena had once caught you hauling an ugly statue over your shoulder and asked what you were doing.

'i'm not allowing myself nor any or you to live with such an eyesore, the woman doesn't know fashion from trashion if it hit her in the face.' you told them before adding, 'oh also remind me to buy Bob a book shelf for his book nook along with another beanbag or at least a more comfotable loveseat to support his back, weighted throw blankets, weighted plushies and snug hoodie blankets. okay thanks!'

you do similar things for Yelena, Alexei, John and Ava by making their floors within the tower more tolerable, places where they can find respit in. For Yelena you got her food for Fanny and Houdini the guinea pig, even buying them better dog beds and cages for houdini to move and get exercise within, along with some new jewlery and fake plants to decorate the blandness of her window sill.

For Ava you got her some books, diaries for her to write her innermost thoughts in, movies that she missed out on and that you'd think she would like, art supplies so that she could get her feelings out on the canvas and most of them came out really beautiful and amazing that you began to make a room on her floor decked out as an art room for her to fully use at her complete disposal.

for Alexei you got him memorobilia of his golden days as Red Guardian, knowing how much he looked back on those days with pride, wanting nothing more to recapture it. You got a massive poster of the wheaties box with all of you on it to hang on his wall, since he wouldn’t stop talking about it. You even managed to find newspaper clips of the football team that he and Yelena talked about and had them framed and sat on his bedside table for easy accept for him to look at whenever he wanted to, much to Yelena’s dismay.

For John you made one of the rooms on his floor into a sort of relaxation room that you made sure had no wifi, no signal, nothing and force him to sit in his thoughts and just breath. You even got him some journals to go write in as he didn’t open up vocally about what he’s going through, so why not write instead. You pay homage to Lemar ‘Battlestar’ Hoskins too upon learning how close he and John were, knowing how his death had disturbed John to the core even to this day while not overstepping your boundaries upon this subject.

You were essentially their reminder to take it easier on themselves, to treat themselves better as you would force the team into activities that would prove beneficial for not only them, but to you all as a team. Movie and game nights, family dinners in the Kitchenette, team outings to a park or elsewhere when there wasn’t any missions to go on nor stupid press junkets that Valentina demands you all to attend.

‘Stop it.’ You took the vodka shot glasses from Alexei and Yelena.

‘Put it down.’ You confiscated John’s phone, pocketing it in your jeans.

‘Knock it off.’ You grab Ava by the elbow before she could phase through the wall, something she always did whenever you decided to rally the group.

‘Come one sweetheart, get in here.’ You gestured for Bob to step away from the stove where he was making breakfast for you all, wanting to make himself useful while he was learning to better understand his powers and their full extent, seeing the tired look upon his face.

You’d make them all stay in the living room won’t let anyone be left out, not stopping until all of you were laughing and having a good time, you just wanted them all to be okay and will fully intended to be harsh if you must to get the results you want from your group.

But you have days yourself when you couldn’t always protect your teammates, days where you were tired from the weight you’ve put on yourself in taking care for others over yourself that your team decided to step in themselves to help you for a change.

‘Come on, enough of that.’ John said as he took away your phone, pocketing it in his jeans as he guided you to the room he and the others had decked out just for you. It took them a week but it was worth it. fairy lights hung from the ceiling, bookshelves lined the walls, a projector was lying in wait to be used, loveseats were placed wherever possible along with little gifts each of the thunderbolts best suited you and your room.

Yelena- a collage of pictures of yourself and her along with the other team members falling asleep on one another during movie nights, having self care days or even having a makeshift fashion show in order to make you laugh with tears. A plushy that looked like Fanny and Houdini the guinea pig. It was the least she could do when you reminded her to put down the bottle, put down the phone and allow herself to be in the company of people who love her and were just as fucked up as her, grabbing her by the hand and dragging her out of the room and forcing her to talk Fanny for a walk.

Ava- a painting she made of you that was hung on the wall, trinkets to put in the alcove units John had installed, and even found a plush window sill seat should you ever want to look out the window without having to worry about a sore and numb ass afterwards. It was the least she could do when she needed to escape, phasing into your room and lying on your bed while you kept her company, making sure to keep some distance between each other as you knew touch was something she was iffy on especially when over exerting herself.

Bob- books that were well loved and well read by him that he’d thought and hoped would help you, the sweater you kept stealing from him, and a weighted plushy he had help picking out for you. He even picked out some vine wall decorations to hang over the bookshelves to give them a more fantasy feeling. It was the least he could do for the times you’ve stayed up with him when he couldn’t sleep, for opening your door for him whenever he needed to talk to someone, for giving him the tools to help better himself mentally.

Alexei- a massive poster of him as red guardian, a fishing rod for he drags you and the others to go fishing and vodka shot glasses, and flower table lights. Helped Ava set up the cushioned window sill seat. It was the least he could do for when you helped him take the opportunity to do something new with this second chance in the limelight, to do things he’s always wanted to do while also helping repair his and Yelena’s relationship in the process.

John- some throw blankets, cushions, put together alcove units for you to use however you saw fit. Also helped Ava and Alexei with the window sill seat as he claimed they were doing it wrong. It was the least he could do for the times where you’d pull him away from public view and practically shield him from view, from another bad new outlet about him for him to drown in later. Telling him that he owed them nothing.

You almost felt like crying upon seeing the room and the personal touches each of your team had left behind, you knew most of them fucking sucked as speaking their feelings but the fact that they had all come together just for you. It showed that they cared for you and acted as the biggest thank you you’ve ever received in your life, reminding you why you were so hellbent on keeping their heads above water, for moments like this where you could see them healing and accepting of themselves.

You were proud of your dysfunctional team, you would keep defending them until you couldn’t anymore, they still very much needed you but you needed them just as much and standing in the room they’ve took great care in crafting just for you only proved such.

‘Thank you.’ You said to them.

‘No,’ Alexei said, clapping you on the shoulder, ‘thank you.’

[botanicsoul]

Girrrrrrlllll I love your work! You are so talented i was gonna ask if you are down to write a hate sex type fic with bakugou :ppppp if you’re not down totally fine already eating up your work anyway so much love from Türkiye 💕💕💕

Yes yes YES!! im obsessed with this ;) Love you lots babe and thank you so much for this request 🙈💕

Spite & Sparks

timeskip | Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

. ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖

You hated him.

You hated how fucking rude he was. How he talked to people like they were beneath him, like he didn’t have time for anyone’s shit. You hated that smug, arrogant smirk on his face whenever you opened your mouth to argue with him—like he loved watching you get worked up.

You hated how cocky he was, how his presence sucked the air out of the room, demanding attention without saying a word. You hated his stupid grenadier hero costume and how it clung to every inch of his hard, cut body like it was designed just to make you look.

But most of all, you hated that it worked.

You hated how easily he had you moaning his name, legs spread and hips tilted, back arching for more of him even as the words left your mouth—

“I fucking hate you,” you spat, voice shaky, eyes glassy as your fists balled into the sheets beneath you.

You were shaking. Your thighs were trembling from the effort of holding yourself up, from the way he hadn’t let up for even a second. He knew what he was doing. He knew how deep to hit, how fast to move, how to drag his hand down the curve of your back just to watch you arch for him even when you didn’t want to.

And you were fighting it—fighting him.

Your face was flushed, your teeth dug into your bottom lip to keep the sounds in. You were right there, right on the fucking edge—but you refused to give him the satisfaction.

Bakugou noticed. Of course he did.

“Oh, you holdin’ back now?” he growled, voice dipped in heat and arrogance. “Tryna pretend you ain’t about to come all over my cock?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. You just gasped, jaw tight, legs shaking.

He laughed—mocked you—rolling his hips deeper, angling himself just right. “Tch. That’s cute. Thinkin’ you got control.”

“I’m not…oh shit—” you cried out when he snapped his hips forward hard, hitting that one spot that made your whole body light up.

“Not what? Not gonna come?” His voice dripped smug satisfaction. “Baby, your pussy’s fuckin’ twitchin’ on me I can feel you milkin’ me.”

“I hate you,” you panted, a sob threatening to break through the words. “I hate you katsuki.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirked against your neck, voice low and dangerous. “Then fine. Don’t come.”

He fucked into you harder. Meaner. Grinning when your hips bucked back against him, desperate. “Don’t come, if you hate me that much. Be a good little brat and hold it aaaaalllll in.”

You whimpered—your body betraying you in the worst fucking way. You were right there, teetering.

“What’s the matter?” he cooed, mocking. “Pussy too weak? Huh? She don’t hate me like you do?”

His fingers dragged between your legs, found your clit, started circling it—slow and cruel. “Oh god,” you gasped, body lurching forward, a broken moan ripping out of your throat.

“Go ahead,” he growled, voice strained now, too turned on to hide it. “Let go. Make a fuckin’ mess on me. Come like the hate-filled little bitch you are.”

You wanted to fight it. You wanted to keep the hate on your tongue, not the moans. But when he whispered your name in that low, possessive voice, and slammed into you just right—

You shattered. And Bakugou felt it. Felt the way you clenched and cried and shook beneath him, heard the way you sobbed his name like it was a curse.

“Fuuuuuck,” he groaned, voice rough, thick with lust as he watched you fall apart beneath him. “Look at you, princess. You fuckin’ love me.”

You were still trembling—hips twitching, jaw slack, your whole body flushed from the orgasm that ripped through you. And you hated that he could see it. See how wrecked you were. How much he affected you.

He slowed his hips, grinding into you with slow, punishing rolls that kept you teetering on the edge of overstimulation. But then—his hand left your hip.

You flinched when you felt it on your face. His thumb pressed gently to your cheek, trailing up to brush under your eye. Tender. Almost sweet. The contrast made your chest tighten.

“Look at me,” he muttered.

You tried to resist, tried to keep your eyes squeezed shut. But he gave your cheek the softest little tap—not hard, just enough.

“C’mon, baby. Gimme those eyes.”

And you did. Slowly. Hating the way your gaze met his like gravity was pulling you in.

His thumb rubbed over your cheek again. The pad of it was calloused, warm, achingly careful.

“You fuckin’ hate me, huh?” he said, softer now. His tone still had that edge, “That why you come so fuckin’ hard for me?”

You swallowed, breath catching. “I hate you,” you whispered one last time.

But the way you leaned into his touch? The way your lips parted, eyes half-lidded and glassy?

He smirked like he already knew the truth.

“Yeah, baby?,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your temple, cock still buried deep inside you.

“Well I fuckin’ love you.”

He knew the truth. The way you were still grinding against him, still begging for more?

“I love you too,” you whimpered lowly, voice cracked and ruined.

. ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖

[the-apple-of-my-eye0-0]

Do you wanna fuck?

Caleb x chubby! Reader

Content warnings: Praise, breeding kink, needy Caleb, reader is afab, unprotected sex, uses of: mama, baby, pretty girl, fluffy smut, a little angst.

This has been in my drafts for a hot minute, so I thought I'd finally post it. Reader is chubby and insecure. Idk this just came to me and I thought I’d write about it.

🔞 !!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!! 🔞

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Caleb and you have been dating for a while. Everything is going great, except you’ve been too insecure to show him your body, thinking he’d see you differently once the layers of deceit are discarded.

You’d always thought he was too good for you, wayyyy out of your league. No one verbally fed into this delusion but you could just tell by the way girls fawned over him in public, giving you eyes full of disgust.

He’d been persistent on wanting to have sex with you, but always stayed within your boundaries whenever you tell him no. As his girlfriend you’ve felt guilty for not giving him what the both of you wanted so bad.

So tonight you finally give in, too horny to overthink or back out.

After another steamy make out session, you told him the words he oh so wanted to hear “I’m ready baby, let’s have sex”.

His face was pure shock, taking a moment to register what you said. “Are you sure pip? I need to be sure you really want to.” He asked, hands resting on your waist.

“Yes I’m sure, please fuck me caleb” you pleaded. And with that a switch flipped inside him.

A smirk rose on his face, eyes going dark as he climbed over you, pining you onto the bed. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that” he kisses you, feverishly, not able to get enough.

Slowly, he starts to remove your clothes, starting with your shirt, admiring every inch of your skin. Then sliding off your shorts, until you were almost bare beneath him.

“God, can’t believe you’ve kept this precious sight from me for so long” his voice almost sounding like a whine?

‘What?’ You thought to yourself, blindsided at the fact he loved your body, just as much as you hated it, if not more.

“Let me see what else you’ve been hiding from me”, a smirk forms on his face as he kisses up your arm while removing your bra.

Once the garment is removed, he loses all sense of control, sucking on your nipple while the other is in between his unforgiving fingers.

“Caleb~” you moan, the new sensation sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body.

“Keep saying my name like that baby, love hearing your moans” he says as he moves to your other nipple, continuing to give you pleasure.

You could feel his feel his hard cock through his pants on your thigh, slowly grinding in need of some friction.

“Wanted this for so long.” He kisses every inch of your skin, leaving trails of light bruises in his wake.

“Hearing your pretty moans through the walls, thinking I’m asleep — drove me crazy, looked forward to them every night” his confession sending shivers down your spine.

You gasp at the thought of him listening, cheeks turning red with embarrassment. “I-I’m sorry baby, I was just scared…” you explain.

“Don’t be,” kiss, “not here,” kiss, “not with me,” kiss, “gonna make you feel so good,” kiss, “gonna make you mine forever”. He kisses down to the hem of your panties, looking into your eyes for permission.

You bite your lip in anticipation and nod eagerly, “Please Caleb, I need you”, you beg.

He doesn’t waste any time, removing the cloth before burying his head between your thighs.

“Fuuuuuck~” you moan, the feeling of his tongue against your needy clit makes your eyes roll back, your hands gripping onto his hair, slightly tugging at the strands.

“Mhm—that’s it, let everyone know how good I’m making you feel” he purrs against your clit. The vibration going right through you.

“Ah, Caleb!— feels so good, need you inside me” you plead, looking at the lewd sight beneath you.

“Yeah? You ready for this cock, baby? Fuck can’t wait to be inside you” he raises his head, watching you through lust hazed eyes.

"Mhm, can't wait any longer." You whine, forgetting all your worries.

You watch as he removes his shirt, showing off his toned muscles. A familiar feeling rises in your stomach, a mix of butterflies and nerves.

He reaches for his side drawer, grabbing a condom, that was until your hand wrapped around his wrist, "wanna feel all of you" you tell him.

He stares at you with wide eyes for a moment before a smirk grows on his face. "You sure? Can't promise I'll be able to resist coming in this sweet pussy?" He warns.

You didn't care, how could you when you've been waiting for this exact moment since you met him.

"I don't care, just want you inside me, want to feel you cum inside me" you reassure him.

You don't have to tell again, he's imagined having a family with you for so long, having a mini you running around.

He unzips his pants, removing the remainder of his clothes, allowing his hard, throbbing cock to spring free. "Yeah, wan' me to make you a mama? Wanna carry my baby inside you?" He coos.

"Mhmm- Ah" you gasp as he pushes his cock inside you. "aw baby, feel so good wrapped around me" he takes a moment before thrusting inside you.

You melt into the pleasure of his curved tip hitting against your sweet spot over and over, you repeatedly moan his name as if it was a sacred prayer.

"You like that, hm?" he groans, leaning down to whisper in your ear. "I'll give this to you whenever you want baby"

You take his head in your hands and pull him in for a deep kiss, no ferocity, no haste, just pure love.

You feel him throb inside you, until he starts to thrust deeper and harder, making you pull away from the kiss, gasping at the pleasure.

He continues fuck you at a mind breaking pace. Causing your body to jolt with each thrust.

You have just enough brainpower to realise what's happening and you grab the blanket to try and cover yourself.

Caleb didn't like that one bit, pinning your arm to the bed and tossing the blanket to the side.

“Don’t cover your stomach pretty girl, wanna see as I fuck a baby into it” he kisses your stomach, shattering all your insecurities instantly.

You let go, allowing the lust to finally overtake you. Your eyes rolling back, mouth open slightly.

"That's it baby, forget about everything else, just focus on the feeling of my cock filling you up." he moans breathlessly.

You feel your climax rising. "Gonna cum" you babble out mindlessly.

"Yeah? Cum for me baby, cum 'round my cock" he pleads.

With that you squirt around his cock, moaning loud enough for your neighbours to hear.

A guttural moan escapes his lips, feeling your walls clamp around him.

"'m gonna cum baby, gonna make you a mama, wanna see you hold my baby, can you give me that?" he whines.

You're too cock drunk to reply, just nodding your head pathetically.

He cums inside you, groaning at the pleasure, giving you a few more thrusts before collapsing beside you, panting heavily.

"Fuck, you're so hot baby, love you so much". he whispers breathlessly into your ear.

[prettyngeto]

PROLOGUE || signed, sealed, delivered (i'm yours) - 18+

sukuna x f!reader - series

summary: one night (and one wine bottle in), you decide to sign up for an anonymous pen pal programme at uni. sukuna was given two options - a therapist or a pen pal. you can guess which one he chose. only problem? you hated each other's guts in real life.

content: uni au, anonymous pen pals, academic rivals to lovers, slow burn, bad boy sukuna x fed up reader, forensic sciences student! sukuna, mutual pining masked as academic warfare, sukuna lashes out at everyone except her because yes... he's still a little shit though, eventual smut 🌚

main masterlist || jjk masterlist

series masterlist ⌯⌲ prologue ⌯⌲ chapter one (tba)

Dr Yumi Takahashi’s office smelt like oranges and vanilla - sweet and serene. Ryomen Sukuna hated it with every fibre of his being.

He sat slouched in the annoyingly comfortable seat across her desk, arms folded tight across his broad chest. His gaze scanned the room in quiet disdain before honing in on her baby blue blazer. Then lower - to the enamel pin on her lapel that read: ‘catch vibes, not viruses’. God help him. He fought the urge to scoff, lips curling, tongue flicking over his lip ring - a nervous habit disguised as irritation. The fabric of his black compression shirt stretched over solid muscle and tattooed skin as he shifted, itching to bolt out the door at any given moment.

“So, Ryomen,” Dr Takahashi began, voice eerily soft, placing her mug of lavender tea down to put on her signature pair of lime-green rimmed glasses. “Let’s talk about what happened in Professor Kimura’s class.” 

“I didn’t do shit,” he snapped.

“Language.” She chimed, eyes peeking up at him over the frame of her glasses disapprovingly whilst pointing to the poster behind her that read ‘No vulgar vocabulary!!’, complete with a smiley face in the corner. She opened a purple polka dotted file, RYOMEN SUKUNA, printed out in bold across the front.  

“Let’s get back to the issue at hand. You slammed a textbook so hard you cracked the desk Ryomen.” She paused, hands folded as she leaned forward. “You wanna tell me why?”

He scoffed, irritation growing once more. “He said I was wrong just because I didn’t cite his paper. Sue me for not wanting to kiss his academic ass. Besides, it’s not my fault he wrote a whole load of bullshit. I cited three other papers - all peer-reviewed by the way - was that not good enough for him?” 

Dr Takahashi blinked slowly. Calmly. Deadly. “You have anger issues, love.” 

“Tch, no shit.” He mutters, rolling his eyes. 

She remained silent, ignoring his quiet jab. She simply opened her drawer to pull out a floral folder, sliding it across the desk with the air of someone offering a dessert menu. “Two options.” She hummed, pushing her glasses up her nose, holding up her index finger. “Option one: therapy. Weekly anger management sessions. No exceptions.” 

Sukuna paled, mouth parting slightly in horror. Sit in a room with some shrink and talk about his feelings for the better part of the day? Fuck no. 

“…What’s the other option?” He muttered, tongue flicking out to tap at his lip ring again. 

She smiled. Sweet. Slightly sadistic. There wasn’t much that could scare Sukuna. But Dr Takahashi’s smile? Yeah, that shit made the list. 

She slid across a bright yellow pamphlet, a cartoon envelope taking up most of the page. “Option two: you join the university’s anonymous pen pal programme.” Her smile widened. “Organised by yours truly”

He balked. His eyes flicked up at her. Then at the leaflet. Then, back at her, squinting like she’d just asked him to scale Everest with a fucking toothpick. Hell, at this rate, he’d rather do that.

“You want me to write? Letters? To some fuckass stranger? Like it's 1725?”

“Writing is a powerful emotional outlet, Ryomen.” She explained, with the patience of a monk. “And it’s anonymous, no names, no faces. Just pure communication. I think it could do you some good.” 

“I refuse.” 

Her smile sharpened - no more softness, just pure sadism.

Sukuna shivered.

“Shall I book your first therapy session then?” she hummed, voice sickly sweet.

His eyes flitted back to the therapy form. He imagined someone staring at him, asking him: ‘And how did that make you feel?’ with faux sympathy. It made him want to punch a wall. Or maybe someone. 

He sucked in a sharp breath, seething silently, crimson eyes fixed on the stupid pamphlet.

“....Fine,” he muttered. “Give me the damn pen.”

A FEW HOURS LATER - 2AM, THE GIRLS' DORMS

You sat cross-legged against the headboard of your bed, laptop perched on your thighs as you took another swig of your wine bottle. Yes, bottle - because somewhere around your fourth sip, you decided glasses were beneath you. 

10 Things I Hate About You was playing for what was probably the millionth time in the background, when your laptop pinged. A new email? Who in their right mind was sending campus-wide emails at two in the fucking morning? 

I regret to inform you that curiosity (and alcohol) won this time - you open it.

“Not therapy. Not journaling. But a little bit of both.” ‘Dr. Y. Takahashi’s new wellbeing initiative—connect through anonymous letters!’ 

Well fuck… that was poetic, (according to your wine-hazy brain.)

Naturally, you did what anyone halfway through a bottle of Chardonnay and going through a quarter life crisis would do right now. You signed up.

ᯓ★ notes from star: IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS SERIES GUYS i'm cooking so hard, trust. as always, comments and reblogs appreciated and let me know if you wanna be in the taglist!! mwah <3

PRETTYNGETO© 2025 - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. DO NOT PLAGIARISE, TRANSLATE OR REPOST MY WORKS ON ANY OTHER SOCIAL PLATFORMS

[feelfreetopleasemexo]

OMGG I FUCKING LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE KATSUKI. DEAR GOD.

I'd love to request a katsuki x shy artsy reader. Reader loves to admire kats when he's not looking, scribbling away in a notebook, which is filled with pages on pages of messy doodles and detailed sketches of him. She draws him using his quirk, she draws him in his suit... eyebrow raisingly detailed, and most of all, she studies his headshots. She captures his various expressions to the T, and sometimes writes little notes on him anywhere in the book where she has space

Of course, bakugo notices how she's always got that chunky damned notebook on her. And the more he catches her drawing away in her own little world in class, the more curious he gets, wanting to know what she could possibly be filling that book with for it to by triple is original thickness. So he confronts her. He's like "yo what're ya drawin' nerd" and she slams that book so hard and fast, immediately getting up to find the restroom it catches him off guard. And now he's suspicious. So he's making it his mission to find out what's inside that book, and if he has to chase her down to get answers then so be it

thank you thank youuuuu!

Thank you so much, means the world to me that you like my writing 🥹🥹

The book of love

If anyone so much as glanced at your notebook, they’d think you were some fan girl obsessed with the up and coming Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight. It didn’t start out that way, it first started with stupid caricatures of your class mates and teachers. Kirishima with overly large shark teeth, midoriya with big bubbling watering eyes, everyone on a leash as mr aizawa held us all like feral children, hair a mess looking like a distraught single mother. Until you started to do more and more of Katsuki. He was easy to over exaggerate, big angry eyes, large explosions with him maniacally laughing in the background, a child holding an ice cream, him screaming at them for dripping it on his shoe, then the top of the ice cream falling on the floor with the child crying and him pointing, laughing at them.

Youd usually draw the pictures, rip them out and slip them to the person, making them smile and laugh at their over exaggerations, hell even mr aizawa kept his taped to the whiteboard so everyone could see how pained they made him, even in his little exhausted Chibi state. But you NEVER showed Katsuki his. He’d just burn them up, why waste the paper? Youd show them to midoriya and kirishima, warranting laughs at his eyes, his overly sharp hair, his complete lack of spatial awareness and how he clearly didnt know how to comfort kids around him. It started small, it started innocent, until Mina asked if you could draw a detailed picture of her looking badass. You spent three days drawing her in her acidman suit, glistening in the sun, donning a super cool super hero pose. She lapped it up, she stuck it to her desk and used it as some kind of inspiration, anytime she felt deflated at her loss or needed a pick me up, she’d stare at the photo, flash a massive grin and her faced will with determination. It didn’t take long before you found yourself drawing katsuki in a similar way.

His chiseled jaw, his burning eyes, the way his suit shirt clung to his abs like it was painted on…you found yourself drawing him more and more, until your notebook was compiled almost completely of him. It looked like a damn worshippers guide to Katsuki Bakugo. Tiny notes written around the headshots youd drawn, little quotes from him, tiny skulls and explosions danced around the detailed graphite scribbles as you suddenly realised he had sat down opposite you. You slammed the book closed as if whoever read it were destined to die. Your breath hitched, your hand pressed heavily on the front of your hook, almost forcing all of your weight ontop of it.

“Whatcha writing nerd? That damn book not finished yet?!” He leaned over the desk towards you, his eyes almost burning the top of your hand as he scowled at it. He reached his hand over wanting to snatch it from you, as you quickly held it to your chest and pushed your chair away from yourself as you stood up.

“Oh, nothing….i mean yeah I just Yano, like to take notes. My adhd ass can’t ever concentrate when Mr Aizawa babbles on…yano what he’s like….” Nervous laughed filled your voice as you started to walk towards the door, “gotta pee so…yeah.. cya!” You ran out of the door faster than he did whenever he chased midoriya after he compliment him, straight to the rest room. As your back leant against the cubicle door, you let out a massive sigh still clutching the book to your chest like a mother cradling their child. After composing yourself, you finally left, only to be greeted abruptly by katsukis chest. He pointed his finger into the book, his eyes staring down at you.

“Why don’t you ever show me those crappy drawings? You’re always giving everyone else shitty cartoons about themselves….why not me? Scared I’ll kill you if it’s bad?” He huffed, clearly unimpressed and slightly hurt that he was the only one in your class that hadn’t received their very own caricature.

“Errr, actually….yes.” You looked up at him, eyes nearly shaking at him being so close to you, terrified he’d let out a blast and ruin your hours of hard work. He tightened his eyes, tilting his head slightly down at you, as he saw you clutch the book closer to your chest.

“Well. I won’t. Just draw me a shitty picture, i dont like being left out. Nerd.” As he pushed you slightly, he started to walk away as you flicked to the front of the book and ripped out a particularly funny drawing. You shoved it into his hand as you ran past him, gunning straight for the classroom again. He stared down at the drawing, it was him sat ontop of everyone as they were pilled underneath him, eyes crosses, tongues sticking out, like he was sat ontop of a thrown of your classmates corpses. Tiny smoke clouds danced around them as midoriya was the last person he was sat ontop of. He let out a tiny chuckle as he shoved it into his pocket, you were surprisingly good at making him out as the king of everyone.

That was the start of his demanding. Everyday, he asked you to draw another.

“Give me wings. Give me sharper teeth. Make me kick midoriya’s ass whilst everyone watches and laughs at him. Make me look like all might, but better. Draw me with a wife and ki….?” His eyes darted to yours as you started scribbling quickly next to him, the woman looking shocking like you….you slammed the book closed and chucked it into your bag.

“Im tired, think my hands cramping now. Sorry dynamite….ill do more tomorrow.” You flashed him a smile as your cheeks began to get rosey, shuffling off to your locker and chucking your bag into it. His eyes narrowed, trying to hide his own embarrassment at the fact he wanted a picture of him with a family.

The next day he slumped to your desk again, his usual smirk plastered over his mouth.

“Draw me riding a dragon.” A simple please would’ve shocked you at this point as you opened your book and flipped to a new page, unfortunately you had forgotten that late last night you had fallen asleep drawing his side profile, wearing his hero costume, with it ripped slightly around his left eye. The open page stared back at the both of you, as your eyes widened and you slammed it shut. The sheer attention to detail on the half finished drawing made every finer in your body shake, you almost visibly started vibrating in your seat as your eyes darted to his, still staring down at where the page had laid.

“Was….that me?” His voice low, quiet, almost a rumble in his chest. You ran off before you could answer, tears welling in your eyes as you darted for the restroom again, the lump in your throat almost suffocating you. Before you could leave, he grabbed your arm and stopped you. With his eyes still looking down, he cleared his throat,

“Have….you, done anymore?” You shook your head no, trying to pry his hand off your bicep, desperately wishing you Mirio’s quirk.

“No no of course not, im not some weirdo…” suddenly he snatched the book from your hands. You lunged towards him, scratching, fighting, doing anything you could to get that book out of his damn hands. He stood up, grabbing you by the collar and held you outstretched like a cat desperately trying to claw away from the bath it so desperately needed. His eyes darted to the drawings you had painstakingly drawn of him, his face, his body, his small smiles and the way the light danced off his crimson eyes. The silence between you two only made your chest heavier, he was witnessing you at your most disgusting, your most vulnerable. You curled your body into yourself as you covered your face with your hands, sobbing into your palms.

“Im sorry kacchan, please don’t think im weird.”

A moment of silence, suddenly broken.

“Do you….really see me like this?” His eyes still fixed to the book, you couldnt read the expression on his face clearly, was he so angry he was suddenly calm? Was he beyond disgusted that he was about to obliterate you to atoms? He slowly lowered you down and clutched the book in his hands.

“Can i…”

“No.” He shoved the book into his bag and stormed off back to the dorms. Your heart sank as you were sure he was going to rip you to shreds, plastering the walls of the school in your drawings, humiliating you infront of everyone. You began to quickly think of different ways you could flee the country, maybe go to English to live with your cousins, maybe even Africa, start fresh.

The next day, you were terrified to go to class. You skulked the halls, searching desperately for any shred of evidence of your drawings on lockers, but nothing. Nothing looked different,no one stared at you and mocked, no one shouted stalker accusations at you as you enter the class room. You sat at your desk and put your head onto it, deeply sighing into it like the whole world now rest on your back, crushing you, when suddenly your book got dropped on the top of your head. You flung up and clung to it, to see Katsuki sitting down at his desk at the back of the class. As you looked at him, he stated straight ahead as if you didn’t exist, lounging back into his chair and putting his feet ontop of his desk. You looked back at your book and studied the note scribbled on the front of it.

‘Look at the back, nerd.’

You flipped to the last page and saw two stick figure drawings, one with bright orange hair in a mess, love eyes instead of usual ones, and then another standing tall with a crown on its head. It was you and him. You couldve drawn better when you were three, but it quickly became the best drawing you had ever seen. Your vision quickly becoming blurred from your tears welling up, you turned to look at him, and still staring forward, he let out a tiny smirk.

[hedwig221b]

Hi! Can you please recommend age gap sterek fics? 🙏🙏❤️❤️

and @dauntlesslypinkterror asked:

Hii. Can you recommend age difference fics? ❤️❤️

You may notice by the length of this rec list that I love age diff... This was very delightful to put together. Featuring older Derek as well as some older Stiles

Older Derek

serve me lemonade by endversed

"Do not hit on our professor,” Lydia says. “Technically,” Stiles starts to point out, “he’s just our professor’s friend.” “Technically,” she purses her mouth primly around the retort, “he’s old enough to be your father.” Instantly, Stiles catches his tongue between his teeth. He can feel his nose scrunching up with the utter glee of his smile. “I know,” he breathes. “Isn’t it awesome?” Stiles is a law student with a thing for older men. Derek is the middle-aged divorcee he wants to climb like a tree.

DNCE (Desperate Need for Care and Ecstasy) by LillianDeLooney

Gentle lumberjack Derek takes care of Stiles in a new and exciting way.

Hunger by SinQueen69

Anon on tumblr: Are prompts open? feel free to ignore. 40 year old werewolf Derek/ Succubus Stiles. Derek is a hot experienced werewolf who can keep up with Stiles hunger, Stiles can takes whatever Derek can dish out and looks like all his shameful jailbait fantasies. Rough sex, knotting, come inflation, and Derek using Stile' little demon horns as a hold to pull him back on his dick. + Anon on tumblr wanted: Hey can you write a story where Derek has to train Stiles to take his very BIG cock and then after taking it for the first time Stiles becomes addicted to Dereks dick and he wants to have it in him all the time?

Put Down in Words by paintedrecs

"Oh,” Stiles said, his voice coming out low and breathy, “fuck me.” “I don’t think that’s on the syllabus, but we can check to see if there’s a spot open in any of his classes,” Scott said, grinning. “This isn’t an actual professor, though,” Stiles insisted, unable to resist brushing his thumb over the sharp line of the man’s bearded jaw. He was laughing at something off-camera, the shot taken in three-quarters view, his coat collar casually rumpled and opened to reveal a sliver of a simple grey t-shirt. The whole thing was deliberately calculated to lend him a more accessible feel, and god help him, Stiles was falling for it. * When Stiles signed up for Dr. Hale’s intro to history class, he had two goals: knock out the credits his advisor was bugging him to complete before he graduated, and spend a few hours a week daydreaming about his sexy professor’s salt and pepper beard. Derek, a few months away from turning forty and not sure when his life had started feeling so damn lonely, had never encountered someone like Stiles before. Bright-eyed, sharp-tongued, determined to throw Derek’s carefully cultivated world into disarray…and absolutely the last person Derek should be falling in love with.

Impatient by SinQueen69

2024 Suggestion Form Anon: Older biker/criminal Derek loves corrupting 16 year old sheriff's son Stiles. Stiles makes a joke about how it's good he can't get preggo but Derek instantly develops a new kink. The thought of knocking Stiles up so everyone in town knows that Stiles let Derek breed him, that it was Derek that stole Stiles out from under the sheriff's overprotective grip is almost too much. Any Fandom Dark Bingo Square: Forbidden Relationship

i've been pushing for this (for so long) by marinbel

"I’m too old for you,” Derek says. “Peter’s too old for me, and he still wants to fuck me,” Stiles says. He smiles—just a little, just the corner of his mouth—and spares a glance in Derek’s direction. “I think you’re just fine.”

Hitchhiking and Propositions by halcyon1993

Stiles hitchhikes and gets picked up by an older man.

One life stand by Vendelin

Stiles is used to selling himself to make ends meet. But it's getting harder to keep those ends meeting, and there's only so much of Stiles to go around. Until a too-fancy car shows up in his neighborhood, and he meets Derek Hale. All Derek wants is Stiles's time, someone to stay on his arm for events and smile for the cameras. It's the easiest job Stiles has ever had, the best-paying one he's ever had, and he's more than happy to sign up. Derek is everything and nothing Stiles expects him to be, with his tailored suits, sharp mind and his quiet way of caring. But it's just a job and Stiles never meant to fall in love.

Put In His Place bySinQueen69

Tumblr Anon: aggressive underage omega Stiles pursuing older alpha Derek who is reluctant because he's married or he feels guilty about the age difference

One Door Closes by KouriArashi

Derek knows that Stiles is too young for him, but Stiles doesn't agree. Eight years after Derek rejects him due to the age gap, they meet again where Derek has settled in Wyoming as a ranch hand, and Stiles is the new deputy, and still pissed as hell about the way Derek turned him down. Things don't go as either of them planned. (I'm sure a million fics have been written about older Stiles and Derek, but this one has cowboy Derek, does that help?)

With or Without You by SinQueen69

Anon on Tumblr wanted: Could you write Alpha stepdad Derek finally gives in to barely legal omega Stiles' seduction. & Anon from my feedback form wanted: bottom stiles. belly bulge, nipple play, a/b/o, so much dirty talk

Off Limits by halcyon1993

A story in two parts: When Stiles tags along to one of his dad's basketball games, he's instantly drawn to one of his dad's friends, a man named Derek Hale. Derek is over twice his age, but Stiles can't stop himself from wanting him. Jackson has hidden his sexuality and obeyed his parents' orders for years, but when the pressure finally becomes too much, he can't do either of those things anymore. As his best friend Danny helps him to pick up the pieces of his life and discover who he truly is, Jackson realises there might be more between them than he thought.

His Father's Friend by SinQueen69

Tumblr Anon: Derek is John’s friend from high school coming to stay with him while he manages a messy divorce. John’s happy to have an extra set of hands around the house and someone to makes sure 16 yo Stiles is home by curfew. He wouldn’t be so happy if he knew what went on while he’s at work. Kinks-size and age difference, bottom Stiles, hung Derek, taboo kink, possessive Derek, forbidden love. + Stiles has very puffy sensitive nipples and Derek just can’t leave them alone. He gropes and pinches them whenever he can, he shoves Stiles into dark corners and makes Stiles pull up his shirt so he can suck on them in public, he pulls out of Stiles’ mouth half way through a blow job to rub his wet cock on them. Kinks- Stiles with sensitive puffy nipples, hung uncut Derek, possible surprise lactation.

Oh, Teach

Stiles is Derek’s mate, and Derek is Stiles’ professor. So Derek does the only logical thing he can think of: he repels him.

Alway's Hungry by SinQueen69

Chapter 1-Anonymous prompt fill: Teen Stiles starts hooking up with or is in a sugar daddy/baby relationship with an older bear with a big, hairy gut. He loves parading Stiles around in crop tops, tiny shorts, choker collars, covered in hickies. They fuck in public bathrooms, or Stiles sits on his cock every opportunity he gets. Stiles with zero shame loving his daddy's coke can thick cock. Barebacking/toys/creampies/voyeurism all great! Chapter 2: Anon on Tumblr wanted: Can I prompt sterek + spanking + daddy kink + exhibitionism Chapter 3: request from moodyprincess00 for Fisting

How Derek Got His Groove Back by WhoNatural

Cora kicks him under the table. “Do you have the hots for the baby lawyer?” she hisses urgently, and Derek blinks at her, feeling his face heat. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s young enough to be my--” “Younger brother,” she cuts in, and shakes her head. “Age difference excuses do not fly with me. Are you gonna ask him out? Derek, you need to do something about that.” “About what?” he says, frowning, watching as Stiles sits down at a table with a group of older, lawyer-types. “The fact that you’re both about one drink away from sex in some janitor’s closet.”

Sharp and Sweet, Soft and Sound by astrugglingstoic

After spending the last six years together, Stiles thought it was time to expand their family.

A New Toy by SinQueen69

Derek has a new toy for his baby to try out.

Housekeeping by lvmehtme

Derek is a busy novelist with no time to care about or clean up his house. When he's made aware of the condition of his house he turns to a housekeeping agency for help. Stiles is having financial troubles and takes on a load of jobs to help him and his father get by.

The Long Way Home by MonsieurBlueSky (MyChemicalRachel)

Stiles didn’t plan to sleep with his best friend’s dad. It just kind of happened. And then it happened again. And again. And again…

Later, mate! by Smowkie

Derek looked at the time and sighed. One more hour until he could go pick up Alex and go home. It was Friday, and Fridays were their nights, so they were going to eat Chinese food and watch Beauty and the Beast for the thousand time and probably play a game together, and he couldn’t wait. Someone knocked on his open door and he startled a little as he was pulled out of his head. Stiles smiled at him from the doorway. ”Hey, professor Hale,” he said. ”Mr Stilinski,” Derek said and tried to keep his smile professionally polite. Every time he talked to Stiles he had to remind himself that he was his student, that while he was 18, and legal in that aspect, he was still ten years younger than Derek, Sheriff Stilinski’s son, and again, his student.

Knotty Professor by CharWright5

It wasn't the first time Stiles had totally lost focus while working on an essay, writing a topic that most definitely wasn't the assigned one. It was, however, the first time a teacher—or professor, in this case—decided that his paper was so inaccurate he would have to give the student a first hand lesson in order to right his wrongs. Which, this time, meant teaching Stiles exactly what it was like to be knotted.

Take Your Breath Away by thecheekydragon

Stiles didn’t need Scott to tell him who their new English Lit teacher was. He knew it was Derek Hale. He also knew Derek Hale was hot.

The Land of Milk and Honey by MereLoup

Derek had followed Peter to many a business dinner. When Peter was trying to woo a client, he pulled out all of the stops. He would spend however much money was necessary to ensure that the client was impressed and felt like the most important person in the world. Peter Hale had a gift when it came to client relations. Derek had been to just about every five star restaurant in Manhattan, so much so that the shine of expensive business lunches and dinners at exclusive restaurants had begun to wear off just a bit. All of the safety precautions were a little strange, and they were definitely atypical from the normal places they had attended. Derek wasn’t exactly sure why, but he didn’t really care. Every place had their niche. But once they passed through those doors, everything made complete sense. This wasn’t a restaurant at all. It was a bar. An omega milk bar.

Mixing Business with Pleasure by halcyon1993

To get away from the stress of his job in NYC, Derek rents a house in the Beacon Hills preserve and quickly picks up a not-so-secret admirer in Stiles Stilinski.

Only Me

He held Stiles’ face like it was the most precious thing and licked Stiles’ neck like he owned it. A kiss was the first thing to greet Stiles in the mornings they spent together, and at nights, it was the last thing he felt on his face. Each time was more desperate than the last. Derek told him he was made to be kissed. It was a reward, a pleasure, a relief. And then, after all of this, he would disappear. For two days, three, or for a week. Stiles would choke from the thought that this time he definitely ruined it (how? god, how?), and then, in a click of a light, Derek would come back as if he were always there. Calling from a hidden number, cupping his chin, tugging Stiles closer with his hand splayed on his back, so big and insistent. Kissing, loving, refusing to let go. But only in a closed room, in the darkest corner of a restaurant, in a black sports car with its windows thick and tinted. Stiles dreaded saying goodbye.

Desperate

Derek understood perfectly well how young Stiles was. Just how many times did he stop himself from digging his teeth into that lovely neck to claim him? Maybe, next time he shouldn’t. The thought, wild and sudden, came to him, and once it did, there was nothing he could do to get rid of it. If he got Stiles pregnant, then the omega would be his. Fully his. They would be bound for life. Stiles wouldn’t refuse the mating bite, then. Stiles was his omega. Derek would do anything to keep him. Anything.

Older Stiles

Risking It by dbeaux

A chance meeting changes everything. Stiles and his band, Rogue, are currently on hiatus, and he's in the process of turning things on their end. He's not looking for love. He can't. The band and his daughter have to come first. Add in that he's not out to anyone other than his best friend and his dad, he's resigned to the fact that love is just not in his future. He's not even sure how to be in a relationship, much less where to begin. Derek is Rogue's self-proclaimed biggest fan. He's had posters of Stiles Stilinski on his walls for years and went to loads of concerts, but he never got a chance to meet him before the band went on hiatus. Little did he know that he wouldn't even recognize him if given a chance. Will Stiles be able to figure out how to let someone in? Can Derek trust that he's enough for someone like Stiles?

Multidisciplinary Studies by DevilDoll

Stiles is a slightly-older-and-very-sexy librarian and Derek has a thirst for knowledge.

Becoming Yours by dbeaux

As a dom and owner of Stockholm Syndrome, Stiles takes pride in providing a safe place for people to scene. After a bad breakup, he's not looking for a sub, isn't sure he wants a full time sub again. College student and curious sub Derek needs a full time dom but hasn't found anyone willing to take him on so he spends as much time at Stockholm Syndrome as he can, pairing up with various doms willing to take him on for an evening. When their worlds collide, can they find what they need in each other?

Knot So Typical by KnottheWolf

Sure, Derek has a boyfriend. But he keeps it a secret, not because he's embarrassed he's dating an older Alpha man, but because he knows the moment his sisters find out it'll be hell.

Duly (K)noted by KnottheWolf

"Interesting little show you’ve got their, Derek.” The Alpha comments, his voice is so cold with an edge of harshness it has Derek’s stomach rolling with anxiety. “H-How much did you see?” Derek twist his head a little so he’s not staring up at Stiles face. He wants to hide somewhere dark and cry, Stiles saw him. He saw him showing off to a bunch of strangers like a whore. God, what if he tells his mother, what would she think of him? “Enough.” Stiles clips, pushing off from the wall to stand in front of Derek, “Enough, that I could see you fingering yourself open before fucking yourself on some silicon cock just to show off to a bunch of nobodies.” It’s like a slap to his face and Derek’s head is dipping low in regret.

Coach Stiles by DirtyKnots

Stiles shouldn't be doing this, any of this. Shouldn't feel like this about a student. But he does.

[masterlist link]

[luigisbambinaaa]

you're riding luigi and he's being a bit #too loud with the moaning, so you bite into his neck (not too hard) to shut him up :⁠-⁠)

then after y'all are done his neck is bruised with hickeys and shit 🤍🩷

shut up, luigi.

summary: luigi’s too loud. you fix that. he doesn’t expect to love it so much.

content warning: p in v, biting, marking, pain kink (i think), tears, hickeys, sub (?) lu

an: oh my god anon, you and i think exactly alike. i was just on pinterest saving things for this exactly all morning. can you imagine taming frat boy era lu with biting in his dorm omgggg. i also just really wanted another excuse to write something bc im procrastinating my other fic. hope you enjoy!! SEND ME MORE THOUGHTS!!! also sorry if the formatting is weird i typed this on my laptop lol.

other works: priest! luigi, soft spot, soft spot pt 2, post-prison luigi, making out w/ luigi

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

luigi was cocky when you climbed into his lap.

already laid back in his twin bed like this had been his idea, his t shirt riding up his stomach and eyes dark with amusement.

“what?” he smirked. “finally gonna give in? could’ve just begged me, baby.”

he talked big, steady running his mouth. swore you would end up being the one who’d end up a mess, that you just could resist

him.

but now?

you’re bouncing on his cock and that smirk he wore is longggg gone.

his hands are digging into your hips, trying to keep up, but he can’t. his head falling back against his pillows while his curls stick to

his forehead. even his thighs are trembling under yours.

and he’s moaning. like crazy.

“f-fuck—holy shit—i can’t—“

messy. loud. like you’re fucking the absolute soul out of him.

you slap a hand over his mouth.

“luigi,” you hiss at him. “shut the fuck up.”

he whines into your palm.

so of course you lean in and bite his neck, right under his jaw, deep and sharp.

he screams through his teeth, broken, high, and desperate, his cock twitching hard inside you.

“you gonna be good?” you murmur, already licking and lapping at the bruise.

“y-yeah—YES—please keep going—“

you bite him again, lower and harder. and he bucks up into you like he’s going to fall apart right there.

“you’re so fucking loud. moaning like you’re in a fucking porno,” you growl. “your frat brothers are gonna hear.”

“th-then ride me quieter, he gasps, out of breath.

so you do the opposite.

you ride him harder. faster. letting your thighs slap into his, letting the sound of your bodies drown out his moans since they’re getting

filthier and filthier.

every time your teeth sink into his throat, he absolutely melts. he starts begging for it even. “please—please bite me again.”

“don’t stop marking me.” “mark me like i’m yours.”

by the time he cums, he’s crying.

he shakes through it, voice breaking and nails digging into your thighs. you bite him again right as he finishes and he just screams into your

shoulder. his cum flooding you. his hips finally stutter and his whole body goes limp beneath you.

you roll off of him slow, catching your breath while he’s still gasping into his pillows, blinking up at the ceiling wrecked.

his chest is flushed and his thighs are still twitching.

you lean over, brushing his sweaty curls back, and press one last kiss to the raw spot that’s blooming under his jaw.

“take a look,” you murmur. “see what a mess you are.”

he blinks, still dazed but fumbles for his phone with shaking hands. flips the camera and turns it toward himself.

and stops breathing.

his whole neck is wrecked.

bruises scattered from his collarbone to his throat, bite marks and hickeys clear as day. angry, purple, even red. like your mouth tried to

claim every inch of skin it could find there. some are swelling yet all of them scream he’s yours.

he touches one gingerly. winces then moans.

“holy fuck,” he breathes. “i look fucking mauled.”

you just smile and kiss his cheek, smug.

“but you loved every second of it.”

he swallows and stares at his reflection. and then, softly:

“yeah, i really fucking did.”

he doesn’t even bother getting redressed, just lays there, marked and limped, letting the cool air settle over his stinging skin.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

guys i don’t mean to overload the hashtags buttt would it be too freaked out to write a part 2 after you’re gone he’s admiring the bruises and pressing into them to feel the pain and gets off on that?? lmk!! hehehe.

[novas-corner]

OH DEAR GODS PEOPLE ACTUALLY LIKED MY WRITING???? I hope y’all know I’m freaking out about this, it will get to my head (my apolocheese)

Anyways, a singular person asked for more… so… more it is!!

Again with all of this I know almost NOTHING about the game, I’ve missed out on a lot of lore since I am simply a card collector… and I’m very biased towards characters 😭‼️

Also this was NOT proofread properly (I’m doing this on no sleep at eight in the morning.)

Anyways, part 1 is here!

Also I’m basing their schedules around THIS post here!! (I think it’s official stuff? Idk)

Thank you for listening to me yap… back to being isekaid!!!! (I still do not know how to spell that)

Oh also there’s angst ish in here? Idk man I’m just writing out my thoughts at this point LOL

OH FUCK AN ISEKAI

Alright well sleeping was… a nightmare. All five of them argued until you eventually gave up and went to the couch. Damn boys, they’re gonna make your life trouble and you know it. But you gotta admit… five guys fawning all over you is kinda nice! The attention? Fantastic. They give you massages? UGH, so nice.

Well… you’ll need one of those mentioned massages tomorrow, you know damn well your back is going to be killing you in the morning.

You’re surprised to see Sylus walk into the living room, sitting next to you.

“You shouldn’t sleep out here sweetie, it’s not good for your body… what if I took you back to the N109 zone with me? You could sleep in a nice comfortable bed there and there would be much more space”

You groan, sitting up

“The only way I will do that is if you bring the other four with us. You need to remember that we are all not technically in our own universes since this ISNT the main storyline of the game. I don’t want them to be stranded here, I’d feel bad about that”

He sighs, but smiles down at you, pulling your head into his lap.

“Always thinking of others before yourself hm sweetie? Be a bit selfish sometimes okay?”

You huff, but relax into his embrace nonetheless.

“Yeah… I’ll try. Why are you up anyways? Couldn’t sleep?”

He’s running his fingers through your hair (or just rubbing your bald head, idk man) and chuckles down at you.

“Oh come on, I thought you knew all about us”

He’s teasing you… cocky mf-

“The N109 zone doesn’t have a day or night technically, so my schedule is a bit off from everyone else”

Oooooooh… riiiight… you had forgotten about that, honestly there’s probably so much you’ve forgotten. You never did read through the events or stories, just let them play in the background to get more pulls for banners… maybe you should get back into the story after all this blows over… or then again… maybe you won’t have to due to being with them all the time now.

“Right… I forgot about that… well I’m… tired. So I’m going to sleep- lemme move-“

You’re trying to shuffle off his lap to not disturb him, but he just rests a hand on the small of your back and tells you to ‘not worry’ and that he can ‘handle you sleeping for a bit’

…that’s sweet…

You’re relaxing into him almost immediately and drifting off, letting your slumber take over you.

What you don’t know however, is that once sylus is sure you’re asleep, he’s analyzing you, trying to see if this was all some ploy to not be caught for cheating… but it’s really a different person. What was once a person he knew was now just someone who knew him. It was a strange feeling, they had the face of the one he loved, they almost sounded like them too— they just spoke differently. It felt so right and yet so wrong to have you there… maybe he should have Zayne give you a physical checkup tomorrow, make sure you’re healthy and all.

Sylus tries to not care for you, after all… you’re not HIS, not the person he knew. But you acted the same in so many ways… hopefully this can all be fixed. For now though, he sits running his fingers through your hair as he reads a book.

~Timeskip~

It’s morning now and you groggily wake up to the smell of bacon. You’re sitting up, rubbing your sleep ridden eyes as a cheerful voice calls out from the kitchen.

“Oh! Sorry pips, did I wake you up?”

You’re standing now, walking over to Caleb with a yawn.

“Nono… I just woke up… whatcha making?”

He’s all smiles, you’re honestly not sure how he has so much energy at six in the morning but whatever.

“Just some bacon and eggs! Want some?”

He says with a grin, pointing to the plate of bacon and eggs. You pause, eyeing the plate.

“Were the eggs made first? I’m allergic and can’t really risk cross contamination… don’t wanna die today, y’know?” (I’m reminding y’all that this is ME written as if it’s YOU. We ain’t having eggs together homies 🫵🥲)

“Oh?? Uh… I think so? Maybe you shouldn’t eat them to be safe… I’ll make you something else!”

He’s saying while already looking for something else to make… at least they know where everything in this apartment is located, I’ve got no clue.

You’re trying to find bread and hear him mumbling something about how his version of you isn’t allergic to anything… guess that’s a difference.

He sees you rifling through literally every drawer and pats you on the head.

“You know you can ask for things… right?”

“Well- maybe I just wanted to see if I could do it myself, this is technically my apartment after all… but uh… where’s the bread?”

He’s laughing at you, pointing to the bread literally in the counter, you blind blind mf. Your shoulders almost slump in defeat as you pop some toast into the toaster and open the fridge. Huh… fully stocked… that’s nice, where’s the butter though…

As if reading your mind, Caleb walks behind you and grabs the butter for you.

“Here, it’s buried in there, you wouldn’t have found it alone”

You’re just kinda looking up at him, he’d got you cages in between him and the door- HE DID THE HOT THING WHERE THEY GRAB SOMETHING FOR YOU GANG. Ugh you forget that this is a game about flirting and they’re gonna be doing that.

“Oh… right, thank you”

You’re quickly scurrying away from him— and as everyone does, you get spooked by the damn toaster. That mf laughs at you AGAIN. Jerk…

Anyways you’re buttering your toast and watching as he plates his food, having made extra for the others… that’s sweet of him.

“I usually ask my version of you to work out in the mornings… so… would you want to join me for a morning workout after breakfast?”

You look up from your toast, a mouthful and crumbs on your face, he just smiles at you as you swallow your food and wipe your face.

“Mm- sure? Im not the strongest though so expect me to not keep up.”

Which gets you thinking… how in the hell are you going to do the job of the MC??? There’s no way you could deal with wanderers… would you being here jeopardize the job the MC has? Oh gods I mean you can technically rely on the guys for money but what if they get sick of you not being their MC. Not only that, is time passing back home? Will people realize you’re gone? Are you going to end up like an unsolved crime case?

“Hey… are you okay?”

His voice snaps you out of the despair trace you were in, you look up at him with wide eyes and see him looking at you concerned.

“Oh… yeah sorry I was just thinking… I’ll join you for the workout, it’ll probably take my mind off things.”

You’re trying to keep smiling, you’ve been obsessed with these men for months and they’re literally all here, you should just enjoy this in case it’s a dream, y’know?

He’d still visibly concerned but decides to drop it, finishing his food and grabbing yours and his empty plates, putting them in the sink to wash later.

“Well let’s go workout then shall we? You can sit on my back while I do pushups? Alright pips?”

OH BOY!!! You’re standing with a smile, nodding along and following him along to the door, pausing and looking down at your clothes.

“Ooooh wait I need to change my clothes first”

You begin to wander back to what you found out is your room, walking in to see Zayne buttoning up his shirt, and Rafayel and Xavier cuddled up in bed… well more like Xavier cuddling up to Rafayel but whatever they look kinda cute, y’know?

You smile at Zayne, he just nods to you, finishing putting his shirt on.

“There’s breakfast there, Caleb made eggs and Bacon, plus bread for toast”

You’re saying as you walk over to the closet, rifling through the clothes there. You know that MC has got to have something for a workout other than this damn hunters uniform… surely right?

Oh thank the gods they do. (I actually could not find one but I’m gonna guess MC has a workout outfit)

“Are you working out? Have you eaten breakfast yet?”

You turn to see Zayne, who is now hovering behind you.

“Oh! Yeah Caleb invited me to workout with him, I guess him and the me you know worked out in the mornings”

He just nods.

“Alright, enjoy that then, I’ll be back later, I’m going to try and stay with you overnight and whatnot to see if I can help figure out what’s going on, the rest of the men have also agreed they want to be around as well.”

You just nod, biting at your lip slightly. It’s sweet that they care about you enough, but you’re sure they’re only caring because they want their old lives back. You can’t really blame them though since you just want your life back too. Again, it’s nice to be here with men you’ve simped over… but you have friends, parents… ugh be positive damnit, we can’t be depressed all the time.

“Right okay…“

You’re trailing off, not really knowing how to proceed.

“The white haired man— Sylus I believe? He mentioned that I should give you a checkup at some point today. Would you rather visit the hospital during my lunch break or wait I til I get back?”

You raise an eyebrow at his words. Oh boy these mfs are in for a TREAT, they’ll never expect the amount of things wrong with me. Huh that begs the question, will my body function differently than theirs? I mean obviously I don’t have the protocore heart and whatever else… but is it different since they’re game characters?

OH MF YOU DIDNT ANSWER-

“Probably just when you get back, I’m not really sure how to get to the hospital after all.”

He just nods, patting you on the head and walking out.

“Sounds good, I’ll expect you to be ready when I get home then. Have a good day.”

HE’S SO STOIC???? I don’t know how to feel bout that but whATEVER YOURE SUPPOSED TO BE WORKING OUT.

You gather your clothes and move over to the bathroom, as you’re getting dressed you can hear Rafayel waking up and causing a ruckus over being cuddled by Xavier. God damn he’s loud…

You’re changed now and walk back to the living room, where Caleb is sat on the couch waiting for you.

“Ah! Finally pips! Felt like I was gonna have to search for you in case you had gotten lost!”

He’s honestly adjusted really well to the fact that I’m not the me he knows. I wonder if it’s a facade, I know damn well he cares a great deal for his version of me. STOP THINKING SO NEGATIVELY. DAMN.

Anyways you’re smiling slightly at his words, listening to him yap about what he’s planning to do for his workout, it’s just going in one ear and right out the other if I’m being real.

You leave the apartment and go to the gym that I guess the apartment has? (I’m making things up as I go at this point, things will just appear as I need them too)

He’s doing weights and stuff, you’re struggling to get through his tough workout (I’m crippled sorry gang, if I gotta struggle so do you 💔)

He notices this of course and slows his pace down, eventually stopping and patting you on the shoulder.

“Hey… you don’t need to do this y’know?”

You just sigh and look up at him defeated.

“Does your version of me do this every day? That bitch is ATHLETIC.”

He laughs at you and offers to just help him with his workout I stead, which you joyfully agree to, watching Caleb workout? YES PLEASE.

So now here you are, sat on his back and counting his pushups for him. Huh, suddenly the angst from earlier is gone as you watch his ARMS??? UGHHHH 🤩

He eventually finished that up though (UNFORTUNATELY) and just looks up at you… still on his back, making it just a lil bit hard to get up.

“Pips… you gotta move y’know?- I will just roll you over, you should know this.”

Oh we gotta know what that means.

“Hm? The ground is talking, how strange…”

You’re looking up at the ceiling with an almost expectant grin on your face, which he does not fail to realize. Well you asked for it.

Suddenly he has managed to roll you off him and have you underneath him. Don’t ask the logistics of it, just go with it.

You’re looking up at him with wide eyes, Christ it was fast— how in the hell did he do that???

He just chuckles and gets off of you, offering a hand out for you to take, which you do and he pulls you up. "l have to say, you don't act all that different, it's easy to forget you're not the same person I've known." OUCH????? OK ANGST IS BACK IG??? He's walking you back up to your apartment, the hand he used to help you up now wrapped around your shoulder "Oh?.. is that... a bad thing?" "I suppose it isn't! It makes you fun to be around!" "Ah okay..." You trail off, you know what you want to ask but... "What happens if you can't get... the other me back?" The words tumble out of your mouth before you can think to stop them, he almost freezes in his tracks but keeps walking, smile faltering slightly. "I'm... not sure..." "Would you stick around knowing I'm not the person you knew? Or are you just here to get them back?"

He doesn't know how to answer you, because of course he wants his version of you back... but would he just.. leave? He doesn't even know himself. "For now lets not worry about that, okay pips? I'm here now and that's all that really matters, we'll figure everything out eventually" You just nod, looking down and mumbling a small apology... well that's... sad. So anyways you finally make it back to the apartment, and head to your room to grab a basic outfit.

Xavier is STILL asleep- does this mf have narcolepsy??? Whatever, you grab your outfit and turn to go to the bathroom, you need a shower to think again, plus you smell like sweat.

The door to the bathroom is closed when you get there, you knock only to hear Rafayel telling you to come in. You walk in and OH MY STARS-

“OH- sorry didn’t realize you would be IN the bath- I can come back later I’m so sorry-“

He cuts you off with a wave of his hand.

“No no it’s okay, did you need something?”

He’s asking with a slight tilt to his head. Dear gods man he is sculpted like a god, probably because he literally is one- STOP STARING.

You manage to snap yourself out of it, face absolutely red and looking down at the clothes in your hands.

“Sorry I was just trying to shower and get dressed- I can do so later-“

He’s sitting up in the bathtub, motioning for you to come closer.

“You can come bathe with me if you’d like? I don’t mind sharing.”

SIR?????? You are red as a lobster and I fear he is reveling in this fact— HOW IS HE SO CALM ABOUT THIS????

“No- that’s fine I’ll just… see myself out… thanks for the offer though”

You manage to mumble out, looking anywhere but at him and finally turning yer butt around to walk out. You hear him chuckle behind you and call out to you as you shut the door, playful as ever.

“Your loss Mx bodyguard!!”

TEASING MF. Ok anyways we need to find somewhere else to change it seems. So you opt to just shut yourself in the little closet and get changed. Xavier is still asleep in bed, which is kinda cute, he’s out like a ROCK. Honestly and earthquake could pass through and not much would happen I fear.

You wander around the place, Caleb, Zayne and Sylus are all out somewhere, Rafayel is in the bath and Xavier is asleep. There’s… not much to do.

You’re tired though and you slept on the couch, so you find yourself walking over to your room and climbing into bed opposite to Xavier.

You pass right out.

—————————————

Gang I’ll be honest, you could FEEL it falling apart at the end😭‼️

In my defense, it’s almost eight in the morning and I have not slept.

I wrote myself into a bit of a corner too since there’s like… nothing going on ‼️‼️‼️

I also do not know how to write seggsy time so I had to QUICKLY 180 from that.

Anyways I have ideas for another part, if people don’t burn me at the stake for being a crap writer I might add another part to this disaster LMAO

Okok yap session is over, thank you for reading this !! 🤩

Tag list ?!?! (Ask to be added 🤩)

@lunia-likes-pomegranet

[deniigi]

i just wanted to let you know that i absolutely love your writing. i found your account a couple years ago when i was super into daredevil and read every single daredevil fic you’d written because i am so obsessed with your characterisations of literally everyone. your writing style is so amazing to me, makes me feel like i’m chewing on glass. at this point i’ve read nearly all of your fics and reread a lot of them too and every time i check on your account and see you’ve switched to a new fandom i get so excited bc it’s almost always a fandom i’m into as well. your writing is just really beautiful and special to me so i wanted to let you know that :)

Our tin hats are synched!!!!

This is a gift as a reader, but it is also a gift to an author. Thank you so much for coming with me as I wander. I’m really amazed by how many of you all trust me when I get invested in a new kind of media, like, I think we all know that my characterization of said media is always going to be a little screwy, but I am so happy that we are enjoying the experience together.

I’m searching for crunchy new things right now, tbh.

I’m not done with Star Wars, but I still need a break from it and to finally make myself watch Rogue One. I think I’m just sort of put off by the circular arguments going around in those circles right now.

I really loved Kenobi. I really liked how we got a representation of him that was compelling and fuckin DUSTY. God, I love the amount of dust in Star Wars. But the other shows just aren’t really drawing me in; their vibe feels very…high stakes and not high stakes in the dusty depressed man in the desert kind of way.

I still can’t quite get myself to write Marvel (that anon who asked if I would ever write Team Red again is a worm in my ear, I swear to god. I WILL TRY. I just need to figure out how). I am trying. I saw a trailer for the new Fantastic Four movie and nearly died. Like. I’m sorry, they choose DIN??? DIN-DIN, Pedro-Din? Din Djarin? To be REED???? ‘

Of all people. Of all people.

You know what I would accept it if they literally just replaced Reed with Din, helmet and all, and said Reed got changed in space.

I could work with that. We could have Johnny trying to have an emotional conversation with a space warrior wearing a helmet and jetpack.

But instead we have.

Anyways.

Marvel continues to amaze me.

The Merlin folks are wonderful, too, though I feel like I’m looking for a characterization of those lads that I can’t quite find.

I don’t know if my particular type of humor is suited for this fandom. I keep wanting to imagine a Marvel/Merlin crossover wherein Sam Wilson meets Merlin in a pub and thinks all is fine and lovely until all hell breaks loose in Cardiff, and he thinks he has to Captain America his way through it, only to be shoved aside by the Welsh public who are just like ‘fuck off, we already have one of you.’

I just think it would be cute if Sam Wilson was the biggest King Arthur nerd out there and he meets him and 1) he’s short because he’s a 6th century king with the immunity of a modern 4year old and 2) he speaks terrible English with the craziest accent anyone has ever heard because his first language is Brythonic, his second language is Latin, and his third/fourth languages are Old Norse/English depending on who he was warring with that month and 3) he and Merlin are so codependent they have to text each other to see what color the other one’s drink is so that they can get one of their own to match even though they are across the whole city.

OFMD is a cesspit. I’m sorry, but there’s next to no engagement there and also people are racefaking in the fandom?? Fuckin’ wild, I can only observe them from a comfortable corner. I would love to write more about Izzy being a bug-eyed chihuahua but I’ve sort of lost motivation to carry on in that sandbox.

I will say that @petrichordiam has gotten me reading the Apothecary Diaries as of yesterday and is stuffing letters in my mailbox about little miss poison, so we can see what will come of that.

I’m taking recommendations, though.

Happy to hear what other folks are into right now.

Is it good??? Is it crunchy?? Do you have fandom drama for me? What are the vibes like? Give me a sense of what’s going on over there.

[pinkroseblooms]

Remmick is becoming super divisive in the fandom and I'm feeling bad for Ryan Coogler

As someone who isn't the biggest fan of Remmick (don't come for me, actor is cute, and I do think the character is funny and interestingly written and I've seen a few fics that are legitimately good) I don't get why people are saying the Sinners fandom is ignoring the PoC characters in favor of him and it's an insult to the film and it's themes.

For one, Ryan Coogler loves the character. He loves Irish culture. He says in BTS interviews he intended to write Remmick as someone who genuinely isn't racist and sees segregation as complete bullshit. Now, his actions and motivations are purposefully tied to themes of white assimilation and cultural appropriation and a lot of his character is still left to speculation; it's one of the reasons why I think people are churning out so much content of him, they find it easier to interpret Remmick as a character who's history and motivations aren't completely revealed. As a character, he can and at least partially is a reference to what white people have historically done to oppress other cultures/colonization, despite also being a victim of said oppression.

As for people shipping him with Sammie, I don't like the ship, but I saw it coming the first screening. People, especially tumblr fanfic girlies, love shipping villains and antagonists with the character who's the hero/protagonist/audience surrogate. Sammie is central to the plot, but he's also who the audience can step into the shoes of the most and as a result, people can project themselves onto him more. Also, tumblr girlies fucking love hyperfiaxting on the "I can change him" characters. Remmick is basically a tumblr sexyman. And it's not just white people writing reader inserts or focusing on him (side note, I haven't seen the plantation reader story and I hope to God I never do) there's a good number of black users and other users of various ethnicities I see posting content centered around Remmick. Everyone seems to thirst for this character and to be fair, Ryan Coogler meant for people to enjoy him as much as any of the other characters, even if he absolutely wants to centered black stories and culture in his work.

Still, it seems like once again a white character is becoming a fan favorite in a piece of media with a predominantly black cast, meant to be beloved by black people, albeit not exclusively. It fucking grating when you get representation and you want to interact with the fandom but it's seemingly overtaken by people focusing on the white guy.

While I don't think racial bias is the only reason Remmick is getting so much attention, I don't doubt for some fans thats exactly what it is (plantation reader insert, really? Fucking really?). But I'm not black so I'm not going to pretend I get it exactly. As a PoC, I can only empathize to an extent. There's valid reasons to be irritated and fed up so I'm not saying people who want to vent or post about their frustration shouldn't. That's not my place at all.

Mostly I just feel kind of bad for Ryan Coogler who actually put a lot of effort to write this enjoyable villain and Remmick's getting as much backlash as he is getting love from Sinners fans. And I don't think people making fan content for the character automatically means they're disregarding any of the black characters. People are also going feral over Bo and Grace and they love the Choctaw for the teeny amount of their screen time, but I don't see anyone claiming that fans of them are decentralizing the black characters in favor of them.

Also, on the subject of Sinners fan content, I want more Annie x Reader fics. But that's beside the point, she's just my personal favorite and I want to fantasize about her being in love with me because there's no way irl it would ever happen. 🥲

[theseinfernalangels]

Oooh, my question is how would the fw boys act when they’re sick/how the girl would react to them being sick! I’m also soooo curious about Dain and Bodhi’s friendship, I feel like they were acting like friends in onyx storm.

You are really good at writing so no matter what you put out I’m sure it will be amazing! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Thank you! ❤️‍🩹

Here’s the thing I’ve noticed about most guys: They act fearless and invincible when they’re injured, but when they’re sick? Oh, my gosh. They’re sick Victorian children. Here’s how our boys behave:

Dain: Surprisingly, Dain doesn’t get sick much at all — probably because he has the strictest health regiment of anyone at Basgiath. BUT, in the case where he does catch something, like a virus, maybe, he’s reasonable about it. Gets all his paperwork from leadership before taking off. He just needs help doing it — and that’s where you come in. When he’s not dozing off, he’s directing you what to write, since his hands are too shaky to hold the pen correctly. Takes it easy, much to your relief.

Bodhi: You will not find this man out of bed for the next week. He can handle a lot of things — bullying, assassination attempts, war — but gods forbid he gets sick. He drops like a sack of potatoes into bed and does not move. Drifts in and out of consciousness a lot; he really needs a lot of sleep and recovery time. While that’s happening, though, he likes it if you’re next to him or on top of him, since you add some relaxing pressure. Keep a damp cloth on his forehead and watch his lashes flutter with relief.

Ridoc: Sickly Victorian boy. “Mother, take me outside to smell the roses once more.” You haven’t seen anything quite as pathetic as Ridoc when he’s sick — but, who are you kidding? He’s still cute. His face is all flushed (not a rare sight), but he looks absolutely miserable. In any case, after you finish a copy of his notes, write down any and all said-during-class bullshit that he think would be funny, because he needs the pick me up. You didn’t know how upset he’d be when ill, but lucky for you, his friends are all too familiar. Sawyer dryly hands you a bottle from the healers and deadpans, “For the dying man.”

Aaric: For the first few times, he’s not exactly sure how to go about it. When he lived at home, he could just go to the healers and people would be able to take care of him. Now, he doesn’t have that — or so he thinks. You have to scold him back into bed, and the little whirl of his lips shows that he appreciates it, full stop. He doesn’t let it be an excuse for laziness, though. Get him the homework, and he’ll do it when he’s not sleeping.

Sawyer: So here’s the thing — you don’t know he’s sick until he actually says something, and he doesn’t say something until it gets too hard to deal with by himself. A common cold? He’s not going to make a fuss about that. A bad fever where he’s half-delirious? Yeah, he needs you, if him flexing his fingers to stop himself from making grabby hands at you from under the covers is any indication. He knows some medical advice from his sister, but in that state, his brain isn’t doing any comprehending. He kinda just goes along with whatever you do and prays that he feels better in the morning.

Liam: This poor boy. He can take the fastest time in the Gauntlet, win any sparring match, and kill a man — but he hates being sick. Glossy eyes and pouty lips. More than once in his sleep, you catch him murmuring about how he wants his mother, but she’s obviously not there, so you take the time to treat him with extra care, playing with his hair and whispering sweet nothings onto his skin. He gets you flowers afterwards as an apology for having to deal with him. 

Xaden: Another Victorian boy. We don’t give him credit for just how fucking dramatic he is, because while he may be stoic and lethal in public, he’s the exact opposite in private. It’s appalling the first time you see it. He doesn’t shut the fuck up for a second until you sit on his lap and let him run his hands all over you until he’s half-asleep, mumbling thanks and apologies for being so clingy when he’s sick. You don’t speak of it in front of people, but you secretly giggle to yourself, because it’s really cute.

Brennan: The responsible one. You don’t really have to take care of him, because he can do it all himself just fine. However, that being said — he still likes it when you take care of him, since no one else has done that for him in years. Take his temperature, make sure the room is decently tidy, and run your fingers through his hair while he’s half-asleep. Oh, that’s the good shit. He’ll make it up to you with kisses once he’s better. No, he won’t cuddle with you — even in his delirium, he knows he’s sick and doesn’t want you sick, too.

Garrick: Stubborn. There, I said it. You have to drag this man back to bed when he’s not feeling good — and good luck with that; you’re dating his 6’7” ass. He doesn’t believe in sick days, because battle doesn’t wait for the ill to be better. Eventually, after numerous attempts and pleading, you figure out that the only way to get him back in bed is to pull out a wide-eyed look, make your voice all soft, and go, “…Please? It would make me feel a whole lot better if you rested up a little, Gare.” He folds instantly. Back in bed — but his requirement is that you’re in his arms the whole time.

____________________

And about Dain and Bodhi — I don’t think of it much as a friendship more than mutual respect and section-buddy warmth. I think that Bodhi is one of the easiest marked kids to approach at first because of his sunny disposition. So, where Dain disliked Xaden and Imogen for their harsh demeanor, he didn’t mind Bodhi much because he treated everyone the same — including Dain, who everyone else was a jerk to because of his dad.

So, they get along pretty well already, and until Dain starts having issues with Violet, they’re pretty chill. I think that because of the chaos of Onyx Storm, they’re forced to get along anyway (for the good of the team) and let each other hold respective spaces for themselves. Fun tidbit, though: When General Asswipe — I mean, Aetos — disowns Dain, he feels pretty lost now that he’s missing both parents. Only one person notices, and that’s Bodhi — who subsequently spends the rest of the time being there for Dain, as much as time and Dain’s pride allows, reassuring him that he’s always got a place in the squad and that his dad’s approval doesn’t mean shit. We love boys supporting boys.

[skibasyndrome]

please do the prompt 37: "aw, poor baby, do you want me to take care of this for you?"

with Simon teasing Wille and Wille being all quietly needy and whimpering 🙏🙏🙏

Thank you so much for sending me this prompt, dearest anon!!! 💜💜💜 Also thank you to everyone who voted in my poll for what to write next! Once again, it's Sunday and I have no snippet, so have this ficlet instead.

So sorry this took a while to get to, but I'm slowly working my way through the prompts. I hope you enjoy this one hehe, I had fun writing this!

cw: nsfw

Wille lets out a ragged puff of air, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration. He's too impatient, he knows, god, he knows, but he can't help it. He can't find the right angle, wrist starting to ache where he's wedged his hand in between his propped up legs.

It's not... none of this is working the way it's supposed to, he can't twist his fingers in the way he wants to, can't reach far enough in this position. The position he chose himself so he wouldn't have to avert his eyes from Simon. He lets out a quiet whine and reopens his eyes. A small pang hits his chest when he finds Simon staring at him already, head slightly inclined now, a contemplative smile only just curving his lips. Fuck. Wille needs him, needs him so bad, had been waiting for him to come home ever since he slipped out the door in the morning, has been feeling out of it ever since, chest tight, thoughts swirling and jumping and leaving no space for him to think about anything but finally getting out of his head. He pulls his two fingers out, shakes out his wrist, tries again. It's a little easier now, yes, not easy enough though. He knows Simon will make him do it again if he stops now, if he tries to cut this part short, will make him continue fingering himself open, will make sure he's thorough with it before Wille can get anywhere near having Simon fuck him. Wille wants to scream into a pillow, and it's his own fault he chose to lie on his back instead and can't. Across from him, down by the foot of the bed, Simon is kneeling, has been kneeling there for longer than Wille can even begin to comprehend, and with every single lazy tug he gives to his cock Wille digs his teeth harder into his bottom lip. He wants his hand there, he wants to be stroking him, he wants to swallow his cock down, he wants to have Simon turn him onto his stomach and fuck him into the mattress. It feels deeply unfair that he has to bother with prepping himself, that he doesn't get to touch, that he barely gets a good look at Simon. That Simon sits there, like he's bored, waiting until Wille finally is ready for him. Hands all by himself, because he knows he would only distract Wille with them. Because he knows Wille would forget all about his task, would lean into his touch instead. If he weren't so set on doing what Simon so sweetly asked him to earlier, with his breath warm and his grip on Wille's hair deliciously tight, a smile on his lips when he asked if Wille could be good, and patient, and get ready - if he didn't have his mind set on proving that he can, he'd have given up already. But with every passing second, with every time he needs to shift around, needs to reapply lube, needs to crane his neck so he can better see what he can't have just yet, it's getting more difficult. His back is damp with sweat, his fringe sticking to his forehead and even when he twists his fingers again, too impatient, wanting to get this over with, it's nothing like when Simon does it. No matter how much he tries, it's nothing alike. The stretch is not enough, his fingers aren't moving smoothly enough. Even when he wraps a fist around his cock, waned slightly now compared to when he desperately ground it against Simon's thigh earlier, it's not enough. He could scream. Without warning, Wille feels a hand on his knee.

His head perks up, eyes landing on Simon. He's leaned forward, has apparently scooted closer, eyes still trained on where Wille is clumsily working his fingers in and out of himself. When he looks up, gaze meeting Wille’s, there’s a glint of mischief there. Wille swallows hard, feels the dryness of his throat and the faint beginnings of wetness on his lash line. Simon moves his hand, slowly rubbing a warm palm over Wille's propped up knee, fingers extending towards his straining thigh. It takes all of Wille's remaining strength not to pull his fingers out and surge forward, not to tug Simon down and on top of him. He bites down harder on his lip. "Oh baby…," Simon coos, eyes raking up the length of his body and down again. The sound goes right to Wille's cock, makes it twitch weakly in his grip. There's a taunting lilt to Simon's voice, like he can't quite believe Wille can't do it. It makes Wille want to whine and thrash and complain, but, god, does it also pool dangerously hot behind his navel. Instead of doing anything, he watches, absolutely enthralled, how Simon keeps petting his leg. He skates his hand along Wille's shin, then back up, over his thigh, getting so close to his cock that Wille's heart skips a beat. He can almost feel Simon's fingers on him, in him, thinks his curse is going to be lifted, but Simon tuts. "You can't make it work, can you?" The taunt wedges itself into Wille's mind, sharp and searing like a bullet. Dropping his head, he lets out a helpless groan. His face buns red-hot with shame-drenched arousal. Almost fully hard again, fuck, just from this, just from Simon talking… Wille involuntarily squirms under Simon’s watchful eyes. His movements have stilled completely, the immobility almost making Simon’s gaze more piercing, Wille’s cheeks even redder. But even with his mind and body betraying him, he's stubbornly hesitant to admit defeat. As if he can tell, as if he knows, Simon’s face of put-upon pity cracks, lets a cheeky smile slip. The anticipation nearly has Wille’s pulse skip over itself. “Hmmm?” Simon hums then, and moves his hand further, onto Wille’s arm. Wille’s breath catches inside of his throat, like the touch has frozen him in time. Soft fingertips are tracing down his arm, over the back of his hand, over his knuckles, carefully avoiding Wille’s cock. Keeping the distance of Wille’s own hand between them at all times. It’s like Wille can hear his resolve cracking in real time. “This isn’t doing it for you, is it?” Wille’s eyes slip closed against his volition, breath noisy when he blows it out through his nose. Fuck. Very slowly, he shakes his head 'no'.

Suddenly, Simon slips his hand further down. He traces Wille’s curled wrist, brushes over the tendons of his hand. And then he’s there, and Wille briefly forgets how to breathe. Simon’s fingers are lined up with Wille’s, gently petting where Wille has failed to open himself up for him, where Wille’s fingers are still holding space, just rubbing the slick skin, almost absentmindedly. Wille whimpers so loudly that Simon uses his other hand on his thigh to soothe him. God, Wille needs him so badly, thinks he’s going to burst into tears if Simon doesn’t do something about it. “Aw, my poor baby…,” Simon purrs, sweet and soft and with a devastating confidence that has Wille throbbing in his own grip again. He keeps massaging Wille’s rim with deft fingers, keeps working around Wille’s cramped up hand as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. Words escape Wille, whines and broken moans and tiny movements of his hips the only way he’s able to take what Simon is offering. And he’s so greedy to take, so desperate for more, for everything. “Do you want me to take care of this for you?" When Wille nods wildly, tongue unwilling to form words, it’s like finally pulling the ripcord. Simon is quick to gentle Wille’s fingers out of himself, to shove his hand out of the way. The loud snap of a bottle cap, the slick sounds of him lubing up his fingers, and finally, finally, Simon is easing two of his fingers into Wille. Perfectly thick, angled just right, moving just slow enough to draw a string of needy noises out of Wille. He can feel his own cock hardening rapidly. Just as he’s about to warn Simon, about to promise he’s ready, beg for what he’s been waiting for all day, Simon shifts and lies down next to Wille, warm and smooth and hard against Wille’s hipbone. "Just have to ask, baby," Simon mumbles, moving his fingers even more slowly now, shallowly, like he knows Wille can already take him. Like he still wants to make him squirm and wait.  "I know this is difficult for you." His breath is hot against Wille's ear. His fingers unrelenting. "But you need to ask when you can't do it yourself. Need to let me help you." Wille nods weakly, throat dry from all his breathy gasps. "Yeah," he sobs, canting his hips for Simon to get better access, to go- oh. "Y-eah," he gasps again, breath leaving his lungs all at once when Simon nudges his fingers against that devastatingly sensitive spot inside of him. He tightens his fist around his cock, tries to reel back from the edge Simon has pushed him to. Then, “please”, he manages, voice cracking and eyes squeezed shut. With a last teasing drag of his fingers, Simon pulls back and away from Wille’s panting body, leaving his mind spinning, his muscles twitching. But when he hears the bottle cap again, the tell-tale slickness of Simon’s fist flying over himself, Wille feels his body relax against the mattress. Knows that Simon will take care of him.

Feel free to send me some prompts from that list, or just make some up <3 Or read my other ficlets here

also pls let me know what you think <3

[hufflepuffsthunderdome]

Love To Hate You

Shepard Leopold x Fem!Reader Smut (death of a unicorn) Shep just loves to piss you off... more than he should Warnings: Solo!M, masturbation, BDSM fantasies, swearing A/N: just a short one cause it's 4:30am rn in cbr and I can't sleep so I'm chosing to write porn instead. I just know this man is a freaky weirdo who needs to be dominated. Enjoy anon!

There was nothing that got Shepard harder than making you angry. Just watching the way you would huff and pout as if you're not the tiniest, cutest thing in the world, makes him go crazy. Everytime he hears you talk sternly to him, your voice low and serious as you glare at him, he can't help the blush that rises up his neck as his cock twitches in his pants. He so desperately wants you to put him in his place, take your anger out on his cock while you ride him.

"Oh fuck," he groans low and hushed to himself as he leans back against the bathroom counter, hand wrapped around his aching cock as he tilts his head back, eyes screwed shut in pleasure as his adam apple bobs in his throat. He's been rock hard all day, since the moment you walked into the house, and it's only gotten worse.

Watching you strip down to your bikini as you laid out on a deck chair, he was not at all ashamed of drooling over you, even as you scoffed and rolled over onto your stomach to hide your tits from him, which only gave him a better view of your ass. His dream came true, though, when he scooped you up and hoisted you over his shoulder, dropping you into the pool and listening to you cough and splutter as you floundered into the pool.

He followed in quickly after, sinking into the water as his eyes stayed locked on you, watching as you quickly climbed out and yelled his name in annoyance. You moved to stand over him, ranting and raving about how annoying he was as you wrung your hair dry.

He couldn't focus on anything other than how hot you looked right now, telling him how much of an idiot he was as you stood there in your bikini, dripping wet, and how desperately he wanted to untie that fabric and bury his face in your thighs.

He just had to exccuse himself, he would've died if he hadn't, hurrying off to the bathroom where he pushed his board shorts down and gripped his aching cock.

The whole time he pumped his member, he thought of you, soaking wet as you cussed at him, telling him how much you hated him. It made his stomach clench as a deep moan ripped from his throat.

He wants so badly to hear you tell him that again, tell him you hate him, that he's awful, pathetic, a freak - he'll take anything he can fucking get at this point.

He can't help but imagine how good it would be if you finally gave in to the tension that exists between you two, for you to get so fed up that you push him onto the bed and sink onto his cock - god your pussy would feel like heaven, he thinks as his hand moves faster around his leaking length.

he just wants to be used by you, to let you take what pleasure you want from him, he wants to show you that he can be good, he can make you feel good even if he pisses you off.

Maybe you'll handcuff him to the bed, god or choke him as you ride him - the thought is enough to make his cock twitch in his hands as he feels himself getting closer to the edge, blinding white heat building in his stomach.

"Shepard!" you call out from somewhere in the yard, voice tense and angry as it carries through the house. That's enough to do it for him, stomach tensing as the pleasure bubbles over and he's shooting ropes of cum up onto his stomach and over his hand, all to the sound of your angry voice calling his name.

Taglist: @gallyismylittlesilly @mcu-queen @k-pevensie28 @famousladyalpaca @vinecstasy @hrtsvivis @limensodaa @momattmoproblems @daydreamgirly1221 @knoxvilleshappytrail @just-browsing-on-the-internet @thelastemzy @smthgsmthgidk @loonyphantomtree @lokotrona11 @meetmeatyourworst @miotalee @gabrielapoe-16

[mediumgayitalian]

this post: I NEED A SOLANGELO OFFICE AU FIC WHERE NICO IS THE CEO AND COLD AND EVERYONE HATES HIM AND WILL IS HIS ASSISTANT WHO THINKS HE'S HIT BUT STILL THINKS HE'S MEAN AND STRAIGHT BUT SOMETHING HAPPENS AND THEY GRADUALLY GROW CLOSER AND NICO STARTS WARMING UP TO HIM AND IT'S MUTUAL PINING AND UGH SOMEONE WRITE THIS PLEASE I BEG

(https://www.tumblr.com/icantspelll/782319142725369856/i-need-a-solangelo-office-au-fic-where-nico-is-the?source=share)

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oh ho ho. happy you asked. post here. excuse me as this is a little all over the place and also somehow 3500 fucking words again and also i pretty much wrote the climax scene but WHATEVER its in my head now

modern au obviously.

there is a car accident.

a big one.

lee is brain-dead. on life support, and getting constant visitation, but...yeah there's not a lot of hope there. michael is in somewhat of a halfway house, newly unable to walk, at least for now, and with a host of other symptoms that make living at home hard. he needs assisted car.

will got off relatively scot-free. he had some minor brain damage and now has a migraine disorder and a shitton of burn scars from trying to drag his brothers out of a burning vehicle before they all blew up.

him and his mother also now have a whole lot of debt.

(it does not help that michael refuses to see them...the guilt from being the driver is hard. will is devastated to have lost not one brother, but two, in some ways.)

he starts working for this medical nonprofit partially because theyre hiring (desperate for a PA bc no one will stay under nico's bitch ass long enough) and also bc he's hoping to do a little fraud and get his bills paid maybe

(theyre desperate.)

rachel hires will i think. she is nervous in the interview not in the shy way but in the oh god i cannot tell him whats actually waiting for him way. i dont want him to walk out. fuck.

i think shes the main secretary. yeah.

nico interrupts the interview to bark about needing something.

rachel is so crushed bc now this guy will never accept the position fuck.

except will takes it easy as anything -- he DID go through med school and is very used to being yelled at and treated like shit by superiors. he has also worked in service. he doesnt even blink. its about dry cleaning or some dumb shit like that, just something nico needs picked up and fast because hes already late and irritable

so wills like ive got it sir. gimme an address and ill bring it to your office. can i get you a coffee while you wait?

and his voice is light, then he raises his eyebrows, slightly, and says, same tone, but eyes a little steely, or perhaps a xanax?

and rachel CHOKES.

but nico just scowls and go coffee is fine. GOOD espresso from this specific coffee shop or im not paying for it.

so rachel is like god fuck you want the job then? and will is like yah sounds good. and hauls ass immediately to the coffee shop, which happens to be the one lou or cecil work at, and he gets special best friend privileges to skip to the front of the line and get his espresso going I GOT THE JOB OKAY LOVE YOU BYE and hauls ass to whatever errand. comes back.

and its just.

for weeks nico is increasingly more demanding and absurd, like he usually is, because PAs quit after a week. but will is NOT QUITTING. so nico is kind of taking it like a challenge to be more and more impossible but will takes everything in stride with quick attitude and no issues whatsoever.

nico asks him to do four things at once and will is like "hm impossible as i am not heracles try that one again" and nico, kind of shocked since no one has ever outright refused him before, DOES. he asks for something more reasonable

like will is SO GOOD. he knows all the medical terminology, hes fast, he knows EVERYBODY, and with him as nicos PA meetings go better?? somehow?? people are charmed by will's smile and quick wit and boy is it a break from nico's snapping.

because they like will more theyre less likely to be difficult for nico, and the actual nonprofit stuff they are trying to do gets a lot easier to do

nico would be huffy about it but like. will makes his life easier too

seems to always know when nico has a headache and when he was sick refused to let him come into the office, shoved his ass onto the subway -- where he had never been even once in his life -- and brought him back to his (penthouse.) apartment and cared for him until he passed out

they dont talk about it but its like the most caring nico has recieved in a hot minute and it def changes the vibe between them

nico is gruff but he is less abrasive. he thanks will when will does stuff for him. he actually eats when will brings his meals and cheerfully sits with him instead of scowling out the window. he even lets will coach him on being less of a jackass in meetings and (tries) to take that advice.

the office is gagged. will is EVERYTHING.

but then nico gets this -- inoccuous notification.

about a small case file being approved, money being sent somewhere.

and he frowns because...he didnt approve that.

nico may be a nightmare but he is a nightmare who CARES. he looks at every file on his desk. he remembers details for every case he can.

and he did NOT send money to this particular care facility. as it is usually covered by their rival company and nico knows better than to mess with that

but he looks further into it and realizes there have been a LOT of funds sent without his approval. and he realizes that the person approving them has been will.

and he is FURIOUS.

this boy he has trusted -- he has let into his HOME, he has shared meals with, he has laughed with and even shared secrets with -- is fucking with his company. and sending money to OCTAVIAN'S insurance company no less, their biggest rival.

he calls will over and fires him on the spot basically.

will cant explain himself. everything is falling apart around him. he doesnt even have the words.

hes a little heartbroken, too. because nico -- the man whom hes really starting to fall for -- calls him a fraud, and hes right.

he doesnt even pack his things. he turns around and leaves.

he doesnt cry, on the walk to the subway. even though its dark. he doesnt cry at the station. he doesnt cry on the train.

he cries a hundred yards from the lobby of his shithole apartment building, because he left the keychain his little cousin made for him on his work lanyard, now on nico's desk, and he wont ever get it back.

hes depressed as hell. he wont stay in his room, because that scares his mother, but he drags himself to michael's facility every day even though michael still wont see him and plays with the kids living there, trying not to feel too sorry for himself. and then he drags himself to lee, even though lee is fucking brain dead, and then he drags himself to whatever part time job he can find.

nico, on the other hand, is a NIGHTMARE.

will has been there long enough that everyone has kind of forgotten who he was before, but whatever he was, this version is worse. hes acerbic and sullen and fucking AWFUL. almost cruel. people come back from meetings in frustrated tears and not even rachel can stand to work with him. the atmosphere in the office is shot.

she comes to him, one late night.

i know he stole from us. and i know thats hard. but he was good, nico. he was a good person. i think you should at least find out why.

nico just ignores her. rachel sighs, and walks away. shes ready to find a new job, honestly -- she is proud of the work she is doing at this company and she has worked here so long, but this is unbearable. she cant live like this. shes not even the only one who feels this way.

one day nico sends for coffee. they still have no PA so jason volunteers to get it, and he comes back, way later than he should be, and he is bright eyed and frantic and there is a barista in tow behind him. and jason doesnt even leave the lobby he hollers for nico to get his ass over. nico does, eventually, scowling at his shouting, snapping at him what the fuck is your problem im busy and jason is like NO. no. dont talk to me like that. dont GIVE me that! you dont fucking listen. you dont listen to a single other person, nico, and that is your problem!

and nico locks his jaw and goes fine, then.

and jason falters and hes like no, no. since you know everything. go on.

and there are like.

crowds.

but jason doesnt care and nico is not looking. so jason takes a deep breath and goes firing will was wrong.

and nico goes the man who stole from us? that was wrong?

and jason steels himself and says firmly yes. did you even ask him why?

and nico says im not one to give alibis to thieves, no.

but jason scowls and goes LISTEN, you prick. listen. and he gestures to cecil, who is following the exchange with wide eyes and kind of realizing for the first time how maybe fucked his best friend is.

but if theres one thing about cecil markowitz its that he's LOYAL.

so he straightens up and gets serious and goes: how much do you know about will's car accident.

and nico blinks. and hes like. wills what.

and cecil is like. you know. the car accident that disabled him for life (migraines & brain damage) and killed his brother and got his other brother in assisted living facility. he spent like 15 hours of his day with you. im sure you talked about it.

and nico kind of pales because he is like oh no. oh god no please tell me he did not commit fraud for the most selfless possible reason and i punished him for it.

and cecils eyes kind of harden and he goes yeah. the disabilities that are invisible for him so that insurance companies refuse to help him. and the hospital that is charging him out of life and liberty to keep his brother on life support. surely you know about these things. that he is working so hard to fix. surely you are aware. and nico just quietly goes no. i didnt know.

and cecil goes did you ask?

did you ask about him, ever?

about his life?

his friends and his needs and the reason he sometimes called in because he was curled up on his bed with a pillow over his head in so much pain he can't speak? did you? ask about that?

and nico realizes that this is bigger than the fraud, maybe. this is, as cecil is implying, almost a year of constant CONSTANT effort from will; will sitting with him on long nights and helping him with hard cases and squeezing his hand as he whispers about his sister. effort that has not been funnelled back -- nico realizes he doesn't know will's legal name. he realizes he doesn't know his address. his -- fuck -- his favorite flowers, although will has brought him sunflowers -- his favorite -- on more than one occasion. so nico turns to cecil determined and is like help me fix it.

and cecil is like honestly im not sure i want you around my best friend. like to be real. he loves you and you didnt even give him a chance to defend himself.

and nico nods and hes like i know. i fucked up. i will make it up to him for the rest of my life.

so cecil begrudingly helps him and points out the flowers will likes on the walk. and they get to will's apartment and his mother answers the buzz and she softens, a little, because she can see just from how will speaks of this man that he loves him, even if he's made a mistake. so she tells him that he's with his brother. he is most days.

and cecil says well i am going to leave you to it. i -- can't go back there. lee was my friend too.

so nico swallows his pain and heads up to the local hospital. and the secretaries and nurses know will by NAME -- he may not have completed his residency but he has an MD, still. he was a prodigy, too, graduated early. he knows his shit and he knows his shit well, and while he isnt employed or anything he sure helps them a whole lot.

so nico follows their directions to lee's room and when he gets there will is --

well, will is balanced on lee's bed, tongue sticking out of his mouth, illegaly painting something on the wall. a sun, in the corner, by the looks of it. and dotted stars on the ceiling.

nico is like well i see where half the bills are coming from now. and will SHRIEKS and falls off the bed and nico catches him, barely, and smiles and says youre gonna get charged for vandalism, dumbass.

and will pulls away wide eyed and is like. nico. oh.

and it does not escape nico's notice that he puts himself between nico and his brother.

and boy does that feel like shit.

so nico sits down on the chair a fair distance from him and waits for will to sit too. and they lay there in silence for a significant chunk of time before nico is like, just straight up: im sorry. i made a mistake.

and will doesnt really look at him and is like i uh. i did technically funnel several thousand dollars from your company. you were not exactly in the wrong.

and nico shakes his head and hes like i mean more than that. i did not treat you well.

you dont treat anyone well.

no, you're -- different.

im different?

yes.

nico pauses, staring out the window.

i took advantage of you, i think.

and will doesnt really answer he just stares. and nico looks back at him finally and he has his hand brushing over lee's arm, absentmindedly, by habit pulling up his covers and brushing back his hair. he looks at nico the whole time.

and nico says i think you are a carer. most of all. you care for people. and you came to my company and i was in this dark space, that i have been in most of my life. i was used to it. and then you come in with your brightness and heat and i clung to you, even as i scorned you in the beginning, because you were the light after plato's cave, you know? it stung and i was sullen and hesitant but god for the first tme everything lit up.

and that just wasnt...thats not fair to you, i guess. i never thought about what you need. youre a person, not a bright thing. and im sorry for that.

and will goes well i was like. your hired assistant.

and he squirms and hes like and honestly you kind of helped me too.

and nico isnt quite ready to accept it. he says your friend tells me you were a doctor.

and will nods. almost.

a doctor, will. i didnt even know.

well, i dont talk about it.

will avoids his gaze and there is a beeping from lee's monitor, so he stands and fixes it with practice and ease. nico watches his shaking fingers still as they adjust his saline, like it is nothing.

i dont know -- how. my brother wont talk to me. lee is -- dead, functionally.

he chokes as he says it.

i relied on my brothers every day of my life and then i woke up one day and didnt recognise myself in the mirror and my two favorite people in the world were -- gone. i was adrift.

will shrugs.

i quit my program. i -- couldnt do it anyway, i guess, cant cut someone open with shaking hands. i just cried most days and struggled and the debt kept getting worse and i wanted to -- well. he doesnt say it but nico gets it, suddenly and horrifically -- will fiddles with the bandage always on his wrist and nico realizes what it hides, what will has tried to do.

i convinced myself i didnt have a purpose, nico. i was so sure of it. he looks to nico and his eyes are so dark in the setting sun. nico cant breathe.

but you gave me something, again. i mean, you were a piece of work and i went home and complained about you to anyone -- and i mean anyone -- who would listen --

he grins, and nico huffs a laugh, not doubting it --

-- but fuck, neeks. for the first time in too long i was me again. there was someone i could help. and -- well, not a bad someone either.

he looks down and there is a curl to his shoulders that is almost shy. nico stares at it, at the bob of his throat, and his mouth goes dry.

you're funny, even when youre being a jackass. and you care about people and you get things done and you arent bothered by my attitude.

i like it, nico admits, heart pounding. will looks at him and he flushes but pushes forward, still, forces the words out of his mouth. i like it when you push back at me. it makes me feel like a -- human, again. like someone who can be wrong instead of an untouchable entity.

will snorts. well i can most certainly promise you that you are wrong often.

nico quirks his lips. i know. i know. he breathes out, smile dropping. and i was hugely wrong, will, in casting you away. the foam of the arm rest creaks under his fingers. i -- want you back, if you want to come back.

will exhales, fingers tracing the swirls of lee's bedsheets. nico's heart sinks, and he knows what will is going to say before he says it.

i don't think i can work for you anymore, he confirms. he bites his lip. i -- it was a lot, nico.

nico nods, chest tight. i know. i totally under--

plus, there's something of a conflict of interest.

nico whips his head up. what?

will avoids his eyes, breathing quick and shallow, shoulders up to his ears. i'm. i think its frowned upon, when the PA wants to sleep with the boss. whole trope and everything.

nico feels his heart stutter. he meets will's guarded, careful eyes with his own wide ones, and stares, one minute, two, until the barely-there hope in will's eyes starts to fade, until he nods to himself.

i hope you'll still write me a reference letter, will jokes lightly. i mean, i dont see a lot of PAing in my future but --

im in love with you, nico blurts. marry me.

will freezes. uh.

i mean! i mean, fuck, im sorry, i -- nico is bright red and he feels it, and wills nervous little giggle makes it worse, fuck, what is he doing.

he exhales, long and slow. he balls his fists and lets go of the tension, like jason taught him. he meets will's eyes again, and this time his voice is steady.

not yet, he says firmly. don't marry me -- yet. but. he breathes out again. try, with me. he swallows. if you want to.

i want to, will says, softly.

we can get you back to med school, if you want. something other than surgery. people need doctors, will, you can always --

i want to.

-- any school you want, if you still need school -- do you still need school? -- ill pay for it, i can --

i want to.

-- i promise i am not hurting for money and thats what this whole organization is, isnt it, making the medical field more accessible, and --

nico.

nico freezes, gulping in a huge breath. will sets his brother's hand lovingly down and moves until he is crouching in front of nico's hyperventilating form, both hands gently squeezing his.

deep breaths, nico. follow me.

nico does, inhaling when he breathes in, huge and exaggerated, and exhaling when he breathes out. will keeps breathing with him until the shake in his chest steadies, until the bounce of his legs slows to something more normal.

ill marry you, nico, he says quietly. if you still want to marry me.

nico nods frantically. i do. gods, will, i do.

he places a hand on will's scarred cheek, and will leans into it, tired but soft, hesitant but believing.

i do.

long engagement, will says. he smiles wryly. it'll take you two years at least to make up for all the shit youve thrown at me.

nico laughs, drawing him in close. as long as you need, he promises. we'll do it your way, for this. we tend to, anyways. okay and they kiss etc etc

epilogue is as expected. they get married. will gets his residency in paediatrics and starts his own practice. he sees patients in low income high debt areas specifically and nicos company fights the shitball insurance policies for them. it takes time, but eventually they let lee pass. nico is there for the funeral, squeezing wills hand as he cries through his eulogy. michael lets his brother in, again, coming eventually to their company.

nicos new PA is an old largely-retired man who was once will's favourite prof. his work under nico is easy. his position is revered, and he has large shoes to fill.

the end.

some thoughts from my earliest stage of brainstorming before i hit my roll:

nico would be such a sullen asshole trying to scare will off like the rest of his PAs and wills stubborn ass is like well none of your other PAs were broke enough apparently because you could violate several subsequent labor laws in front of me and im not going anywhere. jackass. ill show you what it looks like to need MONEY

i think it would also b really funny if when will initially hears back from his application cecil and lou ellen are wide eyed going you cannot work for DI ANGELO. mafia man?????? will you are so mouthy you are going to end up dead and will is like bitch we cant eat im going to end up dead ANYWAY

but he is a little afraid of mafia man nico

that is what first breaks the tension. will mouths nico off and nico calls him into his office, sits him across his desk and just stares, silent and deadly. and after several minutes of squirming will snaps if youre going to get your mafia cronies to off me you should know my life insurance payout is fucking insane and that will be a hassle for you to handle

and

there will be no gentle parenting nico into manners here will brings a spray bottle 💀

"get me x and x's number now"

(spray)

"MOTHERFU" (through gritted teeth) "get me their number please"

(spray)

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME."

"treat me like a person"

"...sorry. can you please get me their number."

"yes, thank you for asking."

other employees are watching in awe and fear

jason personally buys him lunch for a week