#i HATE that i almost ALWAYS think of a better way to word whatever i said literally SECONDS after speaking

[lunaswicked]

Sweet Talk

Paring: College!Jimmy Uso x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5k

Summary: Two roommates— You and Jimmy—find yourselves caught in a whirlwind of tension, desire, and unspoken feelings. What begins as teasing and frustration between you evolves into a night of unexpected intimacy that blurs the lines between hate and attraction.

Tags: enemies to smutville😫, roommates, 18+, p in v, teasing, dirty talking, 9 incher jimmy uso, dickstressing, AND WHATEVER ELSE, ENJOY😋

You and Jimmy rarely saw eye to eye. It wasn’t that you outright despised each other, but the two of you had a way of constantly butting heads over the smallest things. Maybe it was because you were both stubborn, or maybe it was because neither of you ever backed down from an argument. Either way, there was always a tension between you—one that never seemed to fade no matter how much time passed.  

Both of you were college students, navigating your own paths, yet your lifestyles couldn’t have been more different. You poured yourself into your studies, determined to excel in every class, while Jimmy had an almost single-minded obsession with football—both playing it and watching it. If he wasn’t on the field, he was glued to the screen, yelling at players who couldn’t hear him or analyzing plays with the kind of intensity most people reserved for final exams.  

When he wasn’t fixated on football, he’d be locked in his room, spending hours on whatever video game he and his twin brother, Jey, were obsessed with that month. It was almost impossible to get a word in when he was deep in competition mode, his focus unwavering as he trash-talked through his headset. Sometimes, it felt like college itself was just a background noise in his life, something he did because he had to—not because he cared.  

But despite all of that, you knew Jimmy was smart. In fact, he was one of the smartest people you knew, even if he didn’t always act like it. He had a sharp mind, a quick wit, and an ability to break things down in a way that made even the most complicated subjects seem simple. The problem was, hardly anyone ever got to see that side of him. He didn’t apply himself the way he could have, and more often than not, he played the role of the carefree guy who only lived for football and video games.  

"I'm not going. I got lab tomorrow," you said into your phone, shifting against the pillows as you tucked yourself deeper into bed.  

Bianca groaned dramatically on the other end. "Girl, you always busy! Every time I call, it's the same thing—lab this, assignment that. And don’t even get me started on how you be stuck in that house with Jimmy all the damn time."  

You rolled your eyes, even though she couldn’t see you. "First of all, I am not stuck with Jimmy. We just happen to live in the same space. Not like I have a choice."  

"Uh-huh, sure. And yet, every time I ask you to come out, you got an excuse, and he's always somewhere in the background, being annoying," Bianca shot back. "One day, imma just pull up and kidnap you, no warning."  

You laughed, shaking your head. "And do what? Drag me out in my pajamas? Not happening."  

"Don’t test me. I’ll snatch you right up, bonnet and all," she teased. "Seriously, though. You need a break. When’s the last time you had fun? Like, actual fun. Not school, not arguing with Jimmy—fun."  

You hesitated, chewing on your lip. It had been a while since you let loose, but between school, deadlines, and dealing with Jimmy’s daily antics, going out just felt like another task on your already overflowing to-do list.  

"Exactly," Bianca said, as if she could hear your thoughts through the phone. "Look, just think about it. Even geniuses like you need a night off."  

You sighed, glancing toward your closed bedroom door, where you could still faintly hear Jimmy and Jey shouting at their game. "I’ll think about it."  

"That’s what you said last time," Bianca huffed. "I ain't falling for it again. You better show up, or I will come get you."  

You smiled, shaking your head. "We’ll see, B. We’ll see."  

She let out an exaggerated groan but didn’t push it further. "Fine, but don’t think I’m letting this go. I’ll call you tomorrow, and you better give me a yes."  

"Goodnight, Bianca," you said, smirking.  

"Mmhm, whatever. Goodnight, miss I got lab."  

You hung up, staring at the ceiling with a small smile. Maybe she had a point.

Your stomach let out an impatient grumble, loud enough to make you sigh in frustration. You hadn’t eaten in hours, and at this point, there was only one thing that could fix it—a slice of your favorite vanilla cake with extra whipped cream. The thought alone was enough to get you out of bed, pushing aside your tiredness as you made your way down the hall toward the kitchen.

The house was quieter than usual, with only the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant noise of the TV from the living room. Normally, Jimmy would be in there, glued to whatever game had his attention for the night, but the lack of his usual shouting made you pause. Maybe he had finally gone to bed for once? That would be a miracle.

But as soon as you stepped into the kitchen, that hope vanished.

Standing by the open fridge, fork in hand, was Jimmy—mid-bite, chewing your cake like he didn’t have a single care in the world. Wearing a fitted black shirt with yellow shorts that showed too much thigh.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your brain needing an extra second to process the sheer disrespect of what you were witnessing.

"You gotta to be fucking wit' me," you said, your voice flat.

Jimmy turned his head slowly, fork still in his mouth, his expression completely unbothered. He raised an eyebrow as he chewed, finally swallowing before answering. "What?"

Your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you stared him down. "That was my cake, Jimmy."

He had the nerve to glance down at the plate in his hand, then back up at you with a smirk. "You sure about that?"

You let out an exasperated breath, stepping closer. "Yes, I’m sure. I’ve been thinking about that cake all damn day. It was the last slice!"

Jimmy shrugged, taking another slow, deliberate bite, as if to rub it in. "Was the last slice. Past tense."

Your jaw dropped. "You are actually the worst person I know."

He chuckled, licking a bit of whipped cream off his fork. "Damn. All this over some cake?"

You threw up your hands. "Jimmy, I needed that cake."

"You needed it?" he repeated, clearly amused. "You make it sound like life or death."

"It is!" you shot back. "I’ve had a long day, and all I wanted was to sit down, enjoy my damn cake, and go to bed happy. But noooo, because somebody just had to be greedy."

Jimmy leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, looking entirely too entertained. "Sounds like a you problem. You shoulda got here faster or sum."

"Or you could’ve just not eaten something that wasn’t yours," you snapped.

He shrugged again. "You ain't put yo name on it."

Your eye twitched. "We don’t do that in this house, Jimmy. Because normal people have respect."

Jimmy let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes as he scooped up a piece of cake with his fork. Slowly, deliberately, he strolled toward you, a smug smirk playing on his lips.  

“Here,” he said, holding the fork out in front of you, the fluffy vanilla cake and whipped cream practically taunting you. “You wanna bite?”  

Your arms folded over your chest, and you scoffed, giving him a sharp glare. “I’d rather die before I eat off of you,” you shot back, your voice dripping with defiance.  

Jimmy chuckled, tilting his head as he took another step closer. “Dramatic much?” he teased.  

You held your ground, eyes locked onto his, but the way he was staring at you—intense, playful, like he was daring you—sent a strange shiver down your spine. 

He took another step, closing the space between you, his free hand lazily slipping into the pocket of his shorts. He was close now, too close. You could smell the faint mix of his cologne and the sweet vanilla lingering on his breath.  

“What’s wrong?” he murmured, voice low, taunting. “Scared you’ll like it?”  

Your stomach tightened, but you forced yourself to scoff again, turning your head to the side. “Please, as if.”  

Jimmy let out a soft chuckle, lifting the fork slightly. “Then prove it.”  

You swallowed, glancing at the fork, then back at him. His eyes held something unreadable—dark amusement, challenge. You could feel your own stubbornness warring with the stupid, undeniable craving in your stomach.  

Your eyes flicked back to the cake, the whipped cream looking way too good to pass up.  

He smirked, sensing your hesitation. “C’mon, I ain't got all night,” he murmured, voice smooth, teasing.  

You clenched your jaw, irritation flaring, but your hunger was stronger than your pride. Damn it.  

With an exasperated sigh, you snatched his wrist, steadying his hand as you leaned in. You hesitated for half a second before finally parting your lips and taking the bite off the fork, your tongue barely brushing against the metal.  

Jimmy stilled.  

Your eyes flicked up to his as you pulled away, chewing slowly, the sweet vanilla and cream melting on your tongue.  

For a moment, neither of you spoke.  

His expression darkened just slightly, his smirk fading into something slower, heavier. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips as he stared at you, watching the way your lips closed around the fork before you finally pulled back.  

Something about the look in his eyes sent a heat crawling up your neck, your stomach twisting in a way that had nothing to do with the cake.  

You swallowed, shifting on your feet. “Happy now?” you muttered.  

Jimmy’s smirk returned, slow and knowing. He tilted his head, his voice dropping an octave.  

“Could’ve just said you wanted a taste,” he murmured.  

Your breath hitched, but you quickly covered it with an eye roll, shoving his wrist away as you stepped back.  

“Shut up, Jimmy.”  

He let out a low chuckle, his smirk never fading as he twirled the fork between his fingers. His eyes stayed locked on yours, dark amusement mixed with something else—something heavier, something that made your pulse tick faster than it should have.  

"You act like you hate me," he murmured, stepping just a fraction closer, his body heat now palpable. "But here you go, eatin' off my fork."  

Your throat felt dry, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes. "I was starving, Jimmy. Don’t flatter yourself."  

He tilted his head slightly, eyes flickering between your lips and your gaze, his smirk deepening. "Mmm, nah. I think you just wanted to see what I taste like."  

Your breath caught, heart slamming against your ribs.  

"You are so full of yourself," you muttered, stepping back, but you barely moved an inch before he closed the gap again, this time with purpose.  

The air shifted—suffocating, electric. You could hear the faint drip of the kitchen sink, the hum of the refrigerator, but it all faded beneath the way Jimmy was watching you. Like he had all the time in the world to unravel you piece by piece.  

"You sure about that?" he murmured, voice low, velvety smooth.  

His free hand brushed against your hip—not fully touching, just ghosting over the fabric of your shorts, enough to send a shiver through you.  

You should have stepped away. Should have said something cutting, something to kill whatever this was. But your body wasn’t listening.  

Jimmy noticed.  

His smirk flickered into something darker, his fingers grazing up your waist, featherlight, testing, waiting for you to stop him.  

You didn’t.  

A slow, knowing hum left his lips. “Thought so,” he murmured, voice dropping even lower.  

Your breath came a little quicker, your skin tingling beneath his touch. Your body was betraying you, leaning into the heat of him.

His fingers finally landed on your chin, tilting it up slightly, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were unreadable—dangerous, teasing, but there was something else simmering beneath them. Something that sent your stomach twisting in the worst, best way.  

"You wanna taste somethin' sweet?" he murmured, his thumb barely brushing over your bottom lip. "I can give you more than just cake."  

Your breath hitched, fingers tightening at your sides.  

You just stood there. Frozen. Trapped under his gaze.  

Jimmy leaned in, slow enough for you to stop him, to push him away, but you didn’t. The warmth of his breath ghosted over your lips, his presence consuming every inch of space between you.  

Every nerve was alight, your breath coming shallow and uneven as Jimmy inched closer, the space between you shrinking to nothing. The scent of vanilla and his cologne wrapped around you, thick and intoxicating.  

"You gonna stop me?" he murmured, his lips barely brushing against yours as he spoke, his voice low, teasing.  

You should’ve. But you didn’t move. You couldn’t.  

His thumb dragged over your bottom lip, slow, deliberate, like he was testing you, waiting for any sign of resistance. When he found none, his smirk deepened, and then—  

His lips brushed yours.  

Not a full kiss, just a whisper of contact, enough to send a sharp jolt straight through you. Your breath hitched, and Jimmy noticed.  

"You’re shaking," he murmured, his free hand sliding up your side, fingers grazing your ribs, your waist—barely there, but enough to make your skin erupt in goosebumps.  

"I’m n-" You swallowed hard, but the words died in your throat.  

He took advantage of your hesitation, closing the distance entirely. His lips pressed against yours, slow at first, testing, teasing. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer, his body heat seeping into you, his hand tracing up your spine like he wanted to memorize every inch of you.  

The moment you responded, the moment you gave in and let your lips move against his, it was over.  

Jimmy deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping over your bottom lip before slipping past, claiming your mouth like he had every right to. His grip turned possessive, his fingers digging into your waist as he pressed you back against the counter.  

You let out a soft gasp against his mouth, and he groaned in response, swallowing the sound like it belonged to him.  

"You taste better than that damn cake," he muttered against your lips, nipping at your bottom lip just hard enough to make your stomach flip.  

A shiver ran through you, and your fingers instinctively gripped the front of his shirt, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping you upright.  

"Jimmy, we cant—" you breathed, but it came out weak, needy, nothing like the warning you meant for it to be.  

"Shhh," he murmured, his lips trailing from your mouth to your jaw, then lower, grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. "I got you, baby."  

The nickname sent a new wave of heat through you, your body arching into him before you could think twice about it. His hands slid lower, fingers pressing into your hips, gripping you like he had no intention of letting go.  

"You still wanna act like you hate me?" he whispered against your skin, his breath hot, his voice dripping with amusement and something deeper.  

You should’ve said yes. Should’ve pushed him away. Should’ve told him this was wrong.  

But the only thing that left your lips was a soft, breathless whimper.  

Jimmy chuckled, dark and knowing.  

"Yeah," he muttered, his teeth grazing your skin before he kissed you again, slower this time, deeper. "That’s what I thought."

You knew it was a bad idea, knew you were crossing a line that could never be uncrossed, but still, you couldn’t stop. The feel of his lips against yours, the way he held you close, the pressure of his body pressing against yours—everything felt too good to resist.

You’d always found ways to make excuses, to stay just out of reach. The random times you’d bug him when you needed something opened, pretending it was just too difficult for you to handle on your own. You'd act annoyed, making a big show of how "helpless" you were, even though it was never actually hard. It was just an excuse, a reason to get him close to you. He’d always tease you about it, calling you out on how dramatic you were, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes when he did, something you’d always ignored or tried to explain away. 

Then there were the times he’d bring girls over, just to sit around in the living room, loud and carefree, as if they didn’t matter to him. The jealousy it stirred inside you was a dangerous thing. You’d play it cool, roll your eyes and pretend you didn’t care. But you did. You cared so much that it burned. It wasn’t about them, not really. It was the way he’d be with them—too casual, too friendly, not even a hint of what he shared with you. He’d stay in the living room with them for hours, laughing, talking like you weren’t there, almost like he was flaunting it. 

Every time he brought a girl around, he’d still somehow find ways to be around you. He wouldn’t let you slip away completely, not with the way he’d casually touch your arm when passing by, or the way his eyes would seek you out in a room full of people. It was almost like he wanted you to be jealous, wanted to see that spark of emotion flash in your eyes when he paid attention to someone else. But he never made a move on them. Not really. You had to wonder if he was testing you, pushing your boundaries to see how far you'd go. Or maybe, in some twisted way, he was giving you the space to make a move of your own. 

Now, there was no going back. 

His lips pulled away just long enough for you to catch your breath, his forehead resting against yours as you both tried to steady your racing hearts. His fingers were still tangled in your hair, and his other hand had drifted to your lower back, pulling you closer into him. You could feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of your clothes. You could feel everything.  

“You know this is crazy, right?” you whispered, your voice shaky, unsure if you were asking him or telling yourself. 

His eyes met yours again, dark and intense, and he gave a small, crooked grin. “Yeah,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lip again. “Maybe it’s what we need, ma.”

That was the problem. It wasn’t just about him. It wasn’t just about you. It was about both of you. And maybe you both had always known this would happen. Maybe you both had been waiting for the other to make the first move.

His hand slid up beneath your oversized tee, fingers trailing against your bare skin, igniting a trail of heat in their wake. Your breath hitched, your body reacting to his touch before your mind could catch up. And god—he looked so damn good in those glasses. He rarely wore them, but when he did, it did something to you, something dangerous. It wasn’t just the way they framed his sharp features, or the way they made him look even more intense. It was the way they added to that quiet, confident arrogance of his—the way he knew exactly how they affected you.

Your lips parted, and without even thinking, you bit down on your bottom lip, trying to contain the rush of anticipation flooding through you. His eyes darkened at the sight, his pupils dilating with hunger. A low, guttural moan rumbled from his chest, deep and intoxicating, sending a shiver down your spine.

Before you could process it, he moved—swift, effortless, like he’d done it a thousand times before. His strong hands gripped your thighs, lifting you with no effort at all. You gasped, your arms instinctively wrapping around his shoulders as he set you down onto the cool marble countertop. 

He didn’t hesitate. His lips crashed into yours again, hungrier this time, more demanding. His hands gripped your ass firmly, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel every hard line of his body pressing into you. Your fingers tangled into his hair, tugging just enough to earn another groan from him, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours.

“Fuck,” Jimmy mumbled against your lips, his voice thick with something between frustration and need. His hands roamed your sides, fingers digging into your skin like he was trying to ground himself. Your breaths mingled, heavy and uneven, as your hands moved instinctively to the hem of your shorts, pushing them down until they slipped off your legs and pooled onto the floor.

It had been over a year—too long since anyone had touched you like this. And yet, a single kiss from the one man you swore you couldn’t stand had you wetter than anyone ever had. It didn’t make sense. It was crazy. But you didn’t care.

Jimmy broke the kiss, his gaze trailing down your body until it settled on your yellow lace thong. The way his jaw clenched, the way his eyes darkened��it sent a rush of heat straight through you. You didn’t even have to look down to know how hard he was. His breathing was labored, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he undid his pants, never once breaking eye contact.

“You hate me for real, huh?” His voice was low, teasing, but thick with something deeper, something desperate.

Your eyes locked onto his, and you forced out a soft, defiant, “Mhm.” But it came out as a whimper, betraying the war raging inside you.

His smirk was slow, knowing. “Yeah?”

Before you could say anything else, his pants and boxers hit the floor, and your breath hitched.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, your fingers twitching against the countertop as anticipation curled low in your stomach.

And that’s when you felt it—the hard press of him against you, only the thin lace of your thong keeping you apart. A sharp gasp slipped past your lips, swallowed instantly by his mouth as he kissed you deeper, his hands gripping your thighs, keeping you locked in place. Your fingers curled into his shoulders, nails digging in as a shudder ran through you.  

“You still hate me?” he murmured, his voice teasing but rough, his breath hot against your lips.  

Your eyes fluttered open, locking onto his, clouded with a mix of defiance and something dangerously close to surrender. “Ye—yeah,” you mumbled, though the tremble in your voice betrayed you.  

His smirk was slow, knowing. His grip tightened, his fingers flexing against your hips. “Bet”  

Before you could say anything else, he stretched you—slow, deliberate, making sure you felt every inch of his dick claiming you. Your mouth fell open, a soundless moan escaping as your body arched into him. His forehead rested against yours, both of you caught in the moment, breathing each other in.  

Your hands clutched at his back, nails dragging along his skin as he pulled you impossibly closer, filling you to the hilt. The heat, the tension, the months of unspoken rivalry and buried longing—it all exploded into something neither of you could stop now.  

And you didn’t want to.

Jimmy moved slowly, setting a rhythm that had your breath hitching with every deep, calculated stroke. You were used to men who rushed, who chased their own pleasure without thinking about yours. But Jimmy—he took his time, like he had something to prove. Like he wanted you to feel every inch of what he was doing to you.  

A shaky breath escaped your lips as your fingers curled against his shoulders. “J-Jimmy…”  

His grip tightened on your hips, his mouth ghosting over the shell of your ear. “What, baby?” His voice was thick, teasing, but there was something raw beneath it.  

You swallowed hard, your body betraying you as you arched into him. “I—” Your words faltered, another breathy whimper slipping free as he rocked into you again, slow and deep.  

He chuckled lowly, his lips trailing down your jaw, pressing lazy kisses along your skin. “You always talk back, always got somethin’ smart to say,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. His hands slid up your sides, fingertips brushing under your oversized tee. “But look at you now… all quiet for me.”  

Your nails dug into his back, frustration bubbling in your chest. “Shut up,” you muttered, your voice barely a whisper.  

Jimmy smirked against your skin, his grip tightening. “Nah, you love this shit,” he murmured. “Ain’t nobody ever taken their time with you, huh? Always quick, always rough… but that’s not what you need.”  

You bit your lip, refusing to admit how right he was.  

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression dark, hungry. “When a man really wanna fuck a woman, he don’t rush it. He wanna feel that pussy. That’s the whole fuckin’ point, mama.”  

A shudder ran through you, your breath coming out in short, uneven gasps. He was ruining you, and he knew it.  

“Tell me you still hate me,” he whispered, a smirk playing on his lips as he rolled his hips just right.  

You wanted to. You wanted to hold onto that last shred of defiance. But all that left your lips was a shaky, breathless moan.

His grip tightened as he leaned in, lips brushing over the shell of your ear. “Say it,” he murmured, voice thick with control. “Tell me you don’t hate me, baby.”  

Your breath hitched, every nerve in your body on fire. “I—I don’t hate you, Jimmy,” you panted, barely able to form the words as his dick hit every sweet spot in your body.  

He hummed in satisfaction, his hands gripping your thighs, keeping you right where he wanted. “Mmh, I know,” he rasped, his dark gaze locked onto yours. “You just needed some dick, didn’t you?”  

Your heart pounded, fingers digging into his shoulders. You didn’t answer, couldn’t. But he wasn’t letting you off that easy. His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Say it.”  

A soft whimper escaped your lips, your head nodding before you could stop yourself. His smirk deepened, his grip tightening as he watched you unravel beneath him.  

The tension coiled tighter, every inch of your body wound up and desperate for release. “Jimmy—Yes…” Your words trailed off into a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut as the pressure built.  

He read you instantly, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “Cum on this dick, baby. I got you.”  

And just like that, you shattered, a breathless moan slipping past your lips as your body gave in. He held you through it, his hands steady, his eyes never leaving yours.  

“Damn,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours as you caught your breath. Jimmy didn’t let up. His grip on you was firm as he pulled you down to your feet, spinning you around with ease. His hands guided you, pressing your front against the counter as his body crowded you from behind.  

“Arch that back for me,” he murmured, voice thick with command.  

You obeyed without hesitation, your fingers gripping the cool surface as he slid inside of you, teasing, taking his time. Your breath hitched, a desperate whimper escaping your lips.  

“Damn,” he groaned, sliding an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Knew you just needed me to take care of you.”  

Your head fell forward, your lips parting. “Please…”  

He smirked at the way the word rolled off your tongue. “Yeah, baby?”  

You couldn’t form the words. Your thoughts were a blur, tangled in the heat of the moment.  

He chuckled darkly, his fingers trailing down your spine. “Mmh, all that attitude, all that ‘I hate you’ talk—where it at now?”  

You bit your lip, trying to hold on to whatever fight you had left, but it was useless. His fingers slid lower, finding your clit with ease. A sharp gasp escaped you, your body trembling under his touch.  

“Thought so,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your shoulder. His fingers moved faster as he coaxed you closer to the edge. “And you ain’t done yet, baby. You gonna gimme another one before I let up.”  

A desperate whimper slipped from your lips. “Yeah?”  

He hummed in satisfaction, his fingers working fast but firm, knowing exactly how to unravel you. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “And you gon’ take it.”  

Your body tensed, heat pooling low in your stomach as the sensation built higher, stronger, consuming every part of you.  

“Jimmy—” Your voice broke, your grip on the counter tightening as a wave of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you breathless.  

A deep groan rumbled from his chest, his arms holding you close as he followed, his breath heavy, his hands still gripping you like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.  

“fffuuuckk,” he muttered, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl.”  

Your knees felt weak, your breath shaky, but he held you steady, his lips ghosting over your skin as if savoring the moment.  

“You still hate me?” he murmured against your ear, his voice teasing, smug.  

You let out a breathless laugh, too dazed to even pretend anymore. “Shut up, Jimmy.”  

His chuckle was low, knowing. “ight.”

The night unfolded in a blur of tension and connection, each moment between you and Jimmy pulling you deeper into something unplanned. You moved through the apartment together. His dick was inside of you in the living room, slow and intense, his hands exploring with a mix of desire and tenderness. Every room, every new position felt deliberate.

It wasn’t just about the heat between you—it was the quiet tenderness in his touches, the way he’d pull you close, his hand brushing through your hair. With each passing moment, it became clear: this wasn’t a fleeting thing. Whatever had sparked between you two, it was something deeper than you’d expected. And as the night ended, you couldn’t help but wonder where it would lead.

[lilgarbitch]

lovesick - Noah Sebastian

Beside You Pt. 3

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader

CW: groveling, anxiety, angst, the whole shabang

Word Count: 4.5k

Author‘s Note: 🫵🏻 HAHA SUCKERS jk i hope you enjoy

Tags: @theanarchymuse95 @dontwantthemoney @chey-h @badomensgoodomens @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @enemiestolovershoe @blade-dressed-in-red @xmads-omensx @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @thatchickwiththecamera @tosoundlessdarkistare @lacy1986

Y/N

I had to force myself out of bed again today. Some days are better than others, but days like these, ones where I don‘t have work or anything planned, I have to give myself a reason to actually get up. Sometimes just the walk to the living room is all I can do, but today I‘m making myself do some shopping. The cupboards are running dry and I‘ve been surviving on delivery for too long to be healthy. After throwing on presentable but comfortable clothes, I make my way to the grocery store. 

My mind has been in a fog for as long as I can remember, so as I shop, I have to repeatedly check my list to make sure I don‘t forget anything, causing me to circle the store a few times. As I make it to the wine aisle, far back into the store, I hear a bit of laughter nearby. Like a bunch of college kids on their first grocery trip together who can‘t help but laugh at everything. It puts a small smile on my face, remembering what it was like to try and do things like this with the boys. Folio always doing whatever he could to make us laugh, Noah tripping over his own feet (Or Nick‘s) and almost crashing the cart, and Nick pretending like he hated us for causing a ruckus, even if he was constantly adding to it. 

I let the small sweet memory play in my mind as I scan the aisle, debating on what I wanted. I‘ve been good with drinking away my sorrows in the last few years, calming down after the first one, but I never know when those days will creep back in, so I decide on two bottles of a sweet, low ABV wine, and place them in my cart. I pause to take one last glance at my list, making sure I got everything, before looking back up to start heading to the check-out. 

And that‘s when my eyes land on someone. Someone in a cap, sunglasses, too familiar long hair, and an identical sleeve as Nick‘s. Every cell in my body froze as I watched him walk towards the aisle near mine, eyeing up the rows of beer. I watch as he decides on a case, grabbing it and finally lifting his head. His eyes barely grazed mine, before he did a double take. And then we just stand there, staring at each other. After a few moments, he blinks, glances behind him for a second, and then turns back towards me. I can practically hear the gears spinning in his head, debating how he wants this interaction to go. Or maybe they‘re the gears in my mind, thinking the same thing. Finally, he starts walking towards me, an awkward yet warming smile on his face. 

‘‘Y/N…Hi,“ He practically whispers, knocking me back into reality as I finally hear his voice again after almost 4 years. 

‘‘Uh..Hi. How are you?“ I almost grimace at how awkward this is, when, for years, we used to be able to talk about anything.

‘‘I‘m good. The boys and I are actually playing a show at the Canal Club tonight,“ He rushes out, like he needed to explain why he was finally here after so long. I nod, trying to show how proud I was, and not the pain and fear I was feeling, knowing that they were all back in Richmond tonight, ‘‘How have you been?“

I take the most subtle deep breath I could, needing to put all my energy into putting on a front. It would be embarrassing for him to find out that I‘m still hurting all these years later. That to this day, I‘ve yet to move on and I still miss them all more than anything. 

‘‘I‘m good!,“ I reply, maybe a little too enthusiastically. I try to keep a smile on my face, trying my best not to make it seem too forced, “Still at the same house. Still waitressing at the same place. Not much has changed.”

I almost see a small hint of shock on his face, but he just nods. He’s probably thinking about how I’ve gone nowhere with my life since they left, which was true. Them leaving destroyed me. I haven’t been able to do much other than the bare minimum. But I don’t want him or anyone else to know that, so I just let him know that life is the same old shit as before. 

“Well, you look great. I like what you’ve done with your hair,” He says with a small smile. I mirror his smile, ignoring the fact that he’s talking about the grown out, faded hair that I was currently covering with a beanie. I give him a small thanks, before I see a face pop up out of the corner of my eye. 

My stomach drops, I knew he wasn’t here alone, but I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could handle at the moment without fully preparing myself. All I saw was a tall, tattooed man with long hair walking our way in my peripheral, and I was silently begging to any higher being watching over it wasn’t who I thought it was. And thankfully, they answered. In comes their new member I haven't met yet. Nick glances to the side and gives him a small nod. 

“Jolly, this is Y/N. Y/N, Jolly,” Nick introduces us. I reach my hand out with a small smile, truly happy it was him and not any of the other guys. I pretend I don’t see the small look Nick gives Jolly before we shake hands. 

“Nice to meet you,” I say with the best sweet voice I could muster at the moment. 

“You, too. I’ve always wanted to meet some of the boy’s home friends they talk about,” he replies, with one of the thickest accents I’ve probably ever heard around here. I ignore the way he called me their friend, not knowing if he knows the full story or not. 

“Yeah, we were just uh..catching up. I mentioned that we were playing here tonight,” Nick throws in, trying to keep the conversation going. 

“Oh? They didn’t tell you already?” And there was my answer to if he knew our history or not. “Well why don’t you come down to see us perform? I bet we can hook you up with a ticket.”

I glance at Nick as I debate my answer, and surprisingly, he has an almost hopeful look in his eyes, making me rethink everything. 

“I..Uh..I’ll see if I can free up some time,” I lie.

”Well, we’ll tell them that there’s a free ticket waiting for you with your name on it. Why don’t you text one of the guys when you figure it out so we know. Maybe we can hang out after the show? I bet it’s been a while since you’ve all seen each other,” Jolly says, to which I nod. 

“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do. I’m still at the old house, like I said, so we can hang there if the others are up for it,” I awkwardly ramble, already feeling a pit forming in my stomach at the invitation I almost wish I didn’t give, both desperately wanting to have them in my home again, but also knowing I won’t be able to handle it.

Nick nods with an even more hopeful look on his face, and Jolly has a pleased, relaxed look, completely oblivious to what he’s about to witness if we all come together again. They talk a bit about the show, still sounding hopeful I’ll come, before we say our goodbyes, Jolly’s being a “See you later,” as if he already knows I want to see the other boys more than anything. 

My mind was racing even more than before as I pay for my groceries and make my way home. As I look through my closet, trying to find the perfect outfit to wear. As I stare at my appearance, knowing I’ll see Noah again tonight.

Do I wear something from the time we spent together? It’s not like I’ve gotten that much clothes since then, other than outfits that aren’t really ‘going out’ wear. My hair’s a mess. I have a few hours until the show. Do I redye it? Do I present myself as someone who hasn’t been slowly dying on the inside since the day they left? 

They’ve all changed so much in the last few years, so do I want to show that I have as well? Even though my version of change wasn’t for the better? Or do I show up looking like a day hasn’t passed, wearing what I always used to and bring back old memories like they will for me?

I already know I’m going to spend the next few hours freaking out over everything, knowing it’s going to be an emotional night as well. 

Noah

Folio swats at my hand, pulling me out of my thoughts and causing me to pull my fingers from my mouth as I was chewing my nails with anxiety. I go to glare at him before Nick catches my attention out of the corner of my eye. I asked him to run to the store for snacks and drinks, specifically requesting some type of alcohol in hopes it would ease my nerves just a little bit, so I was thankful he was finally back. But as our eyes met, I see that he has this sheepish look on his face. Then Jolly bounds through the door, as excited as ever. 

“We ran into your friend at the store! She’s really pretty,” he exclaims, causing me to completely stop breathing. I look back over at Nick, probably looking absolutely terrified, and he just nods. 

“You ran into Y/N?” I ask, trying not to sound too excited or worried.

”Yeah! I told her she should come to the show tonight. She even invited us back to her place after, if you guys are up for it,” Jolly answers. 

“She…She’s coming to the show tonight?” I ask slowly, and he nods, completely oblivious to how freaked out I was right now. 

“She didn’t confirm, but I assume she will. I mean, why wouldn’t she want to see you guys after so long? Especially now that we’re touring. I told her to text one of you if she can or not.”

I stare at Jolly for a few moments before turning to Nick, then Folio, all of them staring back at me. Jolly, confused with my reaction, and the other two with a pitying, yet hopeful look on their faces. 

“What am I missing?” Jolly asks. Thankfully, Nick responds.

”Y/N used to be…family. Even more to Noah than the rest of us.” He looked at him even more confused, not catching on yet. 

”Well? What happened?”

”I left.” I answer bluntly, making him turn back to me. 

“What do you mean?”

”I up and left. We were friends since childhood, dating for almost three years…and I left her to move to L.A.” He stares at me, waiting for me to continue, but I don’t.

”And I’m guessing she didn’t take it well?” I shook my head. 

“I purposely didn’t want her to take it well…I completely dropped her. The second I made the decision to leave, I decided it was best to get her to hate me so it wouldn’t hurt more in the long run. But it did. At least for me. It’s been almost four years since I pushed her away and it’s my biggest regret…And now, tonight, I might see her again.”

”Dude, what the fuck? Why the hell wouldn’t you at least try? I understand long distance sucks, but we’re getting big. We could’ve easily covered flights. You could’ve talked on the phone. She could’ve fucking moved out here with you.” Jolly practically berates me. 

“I couldn’t do that to her. I didn’t want to drag her along into my dream when she could’ve chased her own. I couldn’t have her constantly waiting for me while I lived this life, bringing her out here, knowing no one, and never being there for her as we all worked on our band. She’s probably so much better off with this freedom.”

“Noah…When I talked to her earlier, she didn’t look great. She told me she was still living in that house, and hasn’t even changed jobs. She looked like life has been dragging her down ever since. She needed you. Needs you.” Nick cut in, completely catching me off guard. I stare at him as I let his words sink in, not knowing if I hated the regret I felt knowing I absolutely destroyed her by making this decision, or if I was grateful to know that she still needed me as much as I needed her after all these years. 

I let out a sigh and fall back onto the couch, draping my arm over my face as the pain resurfaced once again, this time more confusing. I knew I fucked up, but I kept her waiting all these years. I destroyed a once amazing, happy girl, who was always there for me and my brothers. I made them cut her off too, assuming it would ease the trouble of leaving. This whole time, I was killing us both. As terrified I was, I needed to see her. I needed to make this right. Because I missed her more than anything. 

Y/N

I step into the crowd, hiding myself in the mix of people. I knew from the countless shows that the boys and I went to that I needed to stay off to the side so I didn’t deal with too many pushing people and crowd surfers, definitely not in the mood for that tonight, but I wanted to be close enough to the stage that I could see them well. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t excited. I watched my boys perform together countless times, just always in someone’s garage or dingy little stages in random tiny venues around town. This would be the first time I was actually seeing them perform their dream. 

Apparently, Cane Hill was playing first, then them, so I had a little more time to prepare to see them all for the first time in so long. I was still freaking out over seeing Nick after all these years that I didn’t know how I was going to handle seeing Folio and Noah. Especially Noah. 

I was terrified that they’d be looking for me in the crowd, so I was making sure I was blending in as much as possible, and then I could either sneak back home after if this was too much, or try and find them once they got off stage. 

As the lights finally turned off and the first band took stage, I couldn’t focus. Their music was good, but I couldn’t stop checking my phone, counting down the minutes of their set. I kept fixing my clothes, hoping my skirt wasn’t riding up too much and that I wasn’t over or under dressed. My mind was a mess. I didn’t know how tonight would play out and I was terrified. I kept running possible scenarios in my head of how everything could go wrong or if anything would go right. How do we fix any of this? Was it even worth fixing? 

As Cane Hill walked off stage, I had to close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. My stomach was hurting with anxiety and I could hear my heart racing out of my chest. I didn’t open my eyes until I heard cheering around me once more. 

Folio walked on stage, his large smile the same as it’s always been. He walked up to the drum set as Nick and Jolly stepped out, guitar and bass already slung across their fronts as they sauntered into their spots, looking confident as ever. I couldn’t help but smile. Some of my anxiety started to ease. They looked like they were meant to be here. To have a large crowd cheering for them, excited to hear them perform. They deserved this. And that proud feeling was just enough to distract me for the main attraction to sneak onto stage.

There he was…

The love of my life. The one who kept me sane for as long as I can remember. The one who brought me comfort in the darkest times. The one who created even darker times. The man I’ll never forget for as long as I live. Noah was once again standing in front of me. 

I watched as his eyes scanned the crowd, probably looking for me, but thankfully it was dark enough that he wouldn’t be able to see. As they started their first song, I couldn’t help but get emotional. To hear his voice in person again, even if it was through speakers like it has been since they released their album, brought me both pain and comfort. He was here. We were once again in the same room. 

As the show went on, I found myself singing along. The music allowed my nerves to calm a little, and being hidden from his sight and just being able to admire him from afar allowed me to feel a sense of peace for the first time in a long time. He sounded amazing. He was meant for the stage. As I let myself join in with everyone else cheering and singing along, I took the chance to really appreciate how much he’s grown. How confident he’s gotten being in the spotlight. How perfect he looks standing in front of hundreds of people, getting admired for his talent. 

And I get so caught up in finally enjoying my time that their set eventually comes to an end. And he speaks into the mic, letting me hear his voice one more time as he introduces the band and thanks everyone for being there. And I listen to his velvety voice being blared through the speakers one last time before they all step off stage. 

And now I wasn’t sure what to do. Do I watch the rest of the show, staying hidden from them? Do I leave? Or do I search for them? The room was practically pitch black as everyone waited for New Year’s Day to come out, so I didn’t think there was much I could do anyway. 

But then I feel my phone buzz in my hand. I look at it and see a text, surprised to see that he hasn’t changed his number and his nickname was still unchanged in my phone.

Nicky- Come to the left side of the stage

I glace up and see his face illuminated by his phone, and without thinking, my legs take me towards him. It was a bit of a struggle to get through the crowd, but finally, I was facing him for the second time today. Once he sees my legs in front of him, he looks up and gives me a small smile.

”So…how was it?” He awkwardly asks. I give him a smile back.

”You guys are unbelievable. I’m so proud of you, I can’t even put it into words,” I say, the comfort of being near him already back like nothing changed. He visibly relaxes at the sound of my tone and his smile grows bigger at my words.

”That means a lot, especially coming from you. I’m really glad you showed tonight, by the way.”

”I’m glad, too. But to be honest, I’m freaking the fuck out right now.” He changes to a warm smile and turns to sling an arm over my shoulder like he always used to when he wanted to comfort me. 

“Trust me. So is everyone else. And I truly mean it when I say I’m glad you showed. I know we fucked up real bad and made a really bad decision, and I couldn’t be more thankful that you don’t hate us for it.” He said with a soft voice as we finally started walking away from the crowd and towards back stage. 

“I could never hate you guys. I definitely felt something close to it when you all left, but I quickly understood why you all did what you did. But I can’t say I’m not still upset with you three, one more than the others.” He nods like he understands what I mean.

”Well that one may be the most regretful of all of us,” He says as he pauses outside their green room, “Folio hasn’t shut up since we told him we ran into you earlier, so you’re going to need to spend some time with him first, but just give me the word, and we’ll give you and Noah some space to talk.”

I give him a soft smile and nod, and he finally opens the door. Within a second of stepping through, I’m being tackled into a hug by Folio, instantly recognizing his scent as my face gets shoved into his chest.

”I missed you so fucking much, Y/N. Holy shit, I’m so happy to see you.” I hug him back for a few moments before patting his back, needing air to respond. 

I let out a soft laugh as he finally pulls away and looks down at me with an apologetic smile. I watch as his eyes take in my appearance and I catch my breath after he practically squeezed it out of me.

”I missed you, too. So much. And you fucking rocked out there,” I said as I grabbed his shoulder and brough him back into another hug, truly missing them. 

“I really hope you aren’t mad at me. I wanted to keep in contact but I didn’t want to hurt you more. Please don’t hate me,” he whispers in my ear as he holds me tight.

”Like I told Nicky, I could never hate you. I love you guys more than anything and am just happy to finally see you again,” I whisper into his. 

We pull away after a minute of our much needed embrace and I greet Jolly before I’m immediately pulled into Nick’s arms.

”It wasn’t fair I haven’t gotten a real one since I’ve seen you,” he mumbles as he squeezes me tight. I laugh softly but just let myself take in the feeling of peace and comfort I’ve been missing all these years.

These boys were my family and even after not seeing them for so long, the love has yet to die. And to know that they’ve missed me just as much as I’ve missed them is making me emotional again. I really hope I don’t cry just yet. I still had one more boy to get to. I can feel his eyes on me. His presence filling the room and running my nerves rampant. Nick finally pulls away, laughing at something Folio said as my eyes instantly drift to where he sat.

In that moment, I think we both stopped breathing as we just stared at each other for a few seconds. Seeing him so close again brought back so many feelings. Feelings from our time spent together. Feelings of our time apart. The love and the anger. The longing and the resentment. The grief. 

“Y/N…” he practically whispers out as he slowly stands up from his seat and makes his way towards me. 

“Noah..” I croak out, my emotions already collecting in my throat. 

As we finally stand in front of each other, I hear the other boys step out of the room, giving us our space without me even asking for it. I almost want to be mad they left me alone with the man that has haunted my every living moment, but I’m also thankful, not knowing how this is going to go and not wanting to cry in front of anyone but him. 

“I-…How are you?” he softly asks. I just stare at him, letting his voice play in my head after not hearing it for so long. 

“I’m…good,” I finally answer, lying. His eyes trail over my face, already knowing my expressions better than me, and definitely catching my lie. 

“I’m not. I-…Y/N. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” His voice cracks towards the end, and I can feel my eyes starting to well up with tears. 

“Noah. I just…Why?”

”I love you so much, Y/N. I love you so fucking much and I regret everything I’ve done. I thought I was making a good decision at the time, but I’ve regretted it ever since,” he gushes. 

“So you never reach out? You just leave me in the dark for four years? You drop me out of the blue one day, get your life together, and leave me in the dust? All alone? I couldn’t even talk to Nick or Folio!” I can see him grimace as I raise my voice. 

“I thought it was for the better. I thought it was selfish to ask you to join us. I thought that if I…if we left you behind, you wouldn’t feel overshadowed. I knew our focus was going to be put into the music and I couldn’t drag you along just to make you feel unappreciated.” His eyes were now turning red and he was waving his hands, reaching out for me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was about to drop to his knees and beg me for forgiveness. 

“Noah. I’d do anything for you. I still love you. Despite the fact you did me so wrong. But you told me that you loved me and then you went and left me. I just..” I sigh and turn around, moving to sit on the couch, burying my face into my hands as my voice turns into more of a whisper, “Why’d you do this to me? I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. I can’t do much of anything at all… I’ve been so sick since you left.”

He moved to crouch in front of me, trying to look into my eyes. I sniffle and look up at him, desperately needing to see more of his face after so long, even if it’s covered in pain. His hand slowly reaches out, debating on touching me before finally placing it on my knee. 

“I’ve been dying on the inside since we left. I need you, Y/N. I can’t keep doing this without you…I now know how wrong I was.”

”Noah…”

TO BE CONTINUED

[valtsv]

[snekdood]

im not gonna say you cant use the n word w a hard r on a almost fully anonymous tumblr account where you claim to be black-

I will say that it makes you 100% more suspicious and worth keeping an eye out on you bc usually its neo nazis pretending to be black that spam saying the n word w an r and use tumblrs weird trust for almost fully anonymous accounts to their advantage to get away w it

you can say it, but, if you Are a neo nazi pretending to be black, I will say, you're not doing a good job of convincing me rn that you actually are.

[nezuscribe]

𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you find yourself in a marriage that you never wanted in the first place. your husband seems to hate you and you begin to wonder if anything you used to think of him was even true. who would have though a marriage to gojo satoru would be so difficult?

warnings: 18+ mdni, arranged marriage, misunderstandings and just not talking shit out, mentions of cheating, slight angst (with comfort), eating out (fem! receiving), fingering, gojo doesn't really know how to husband for some of it

word count: 10.9K (whoops)

note: part two is up! i really had a lot of fun writing this so reblogs and comments are always appreciated! as always, thank you to @jadeisthirsting for beta reading <3

jjk masterlist

never did you think that you’d be stuck in a marriage to a man who didn’t love you, but there’s a first for everything. 

you should count yourself lucky that he’s not old and bald. he’s pretty. in fact, he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. his eyes are the bluest, bluer than the sky. his hair mirrors the winter snows, and his back ripples with muscles whenever he fights. 

his agility is unlike any other man. he fights swiftly and cleanly, never taking more than a couple minutes to get rid of whatever it was that stood in his way. he’s charming with his words (or so you’ve heard), and he knows how to make somebody swoon if he really wants them to. 

and he seems to despise you.

you had known gojo since you were a child, the two of you running around each other's fields as you chased him with your wooden sword. you remembered watching him in training, wishing him good luck whenever he went on a hunt. you could even remember how he would stutter whenever he tried to talk, something he must have worked on because he never seemed to stutter anymore. 

he was always nice to you, his cheeks rosy whenever you kissed him goodbye. he was kind back then, grinning brightly whenever he saw you. 

but as time grew and you with it, and it was only a matter of years before the two of you went your separate ways. it didn’t help that once he turned thirteen he had to leave for training and fighting in whatever it was that was needed of him, but you had hoped that he would be able to write back. 

you would send him letters whenever you could, it was tradition whenever the two of you were separated for too long to do so. each letter telling him about new experiences and embarrassing things that happened in your life, but he never responded. you liked to send one every week, sometimes including little tokens you thought he might enjoy. but you stopped sending them after the first two years and stopped asking about his whereabouts after three. 

but you were hopeful that when you saw him that night so many months ago, he’d be civil with you. you were nervous, sure, but who could blame you? you had recently gotten news that his time to serve his clan was over and that he was finally back home. it wasn’t as though the two of you had left on bad graces, so you were hopeful that he would at least remember you. but he could barely meet your eyes whenever you tried to catch him from across the room, acting as if you had never existed. 

he looked so different since the last time you had seen him. he was taller than most of the people in the room, his white hair just as bright as it used to be. he had gained muscle mass almost everywhere, and you felt yourself wondering just how much training he had to go through to look this way. you could see him talking to a girl, a smile on his face as he tilted his head to look at her better. you gave him some time to socialize, not wanting to intrude on anything. 

after an hour you decided that it was long enough, and tried to weave your way through the crowd to get to him. you had tried to call out to him, waving to him despite your mother quickly shoving your hand down, saying how improper it was. he heard you and you knew that he was purposely ignoring you, so you began to feel heavy-hearted after a couple of attempts at trying to catch his attention, eventually giving up. 

and now, despite you wanting to, you can’t even blame him for hating you. 

ever since your mother caught you, alone with him, a man you hadn’t seen in so long, she had swiftly and promptly proposed the idea of marriage only a few days later. it was really to save face for the two families, but it helped that this marriage would unify the two clans. 

you were sure he had ladies lined up to marry him, and you weren’t somebody he was actively trying to pursue. you didn’t even know if he was in love with somebody else if he shared a connection with a girl who was surely not you and cursed you for taking that away from him. 

not that it mattered now. 

all you wanted was to reconcile, to catch up on all the things happening in your lives. you wanted to hear all the stories he must have racked up over the years, not for this to happen. all the things he wanted for himself were ripped away because of one night from one simple act of kindness, and so you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate him for the way he acted.

you rarely come down for dinner whenever he’s there, but when you do, you feel those eyes turn icy, tracking your every movement till you sit down opposite of him. he doesn’t say much, just mutters a quiet “good evening” and you’re sure he’s only doing it so the maids don’t start to gossip. 

whenever your hand brushes his you feel him snap back, flexing his hand as though your touch burned him. he rarely came by to ask you about how you felt, and so you stopped trying to act kindly towards him if he didn’t want anything to do with it.

any semblance of romance you had dreamed of as a young girl quickly dissipated when you realized your husband wanted nothing to do with you, so you didn’t try to pursue any sort of love, deciding it’d be easier if he just did his part and you did yours so the two clans wouldn’t worry. 

he was always gone, which might be the best for the two of you. when he’s not training new men then he’s gone in a hunt. if he’s not in a hunt then he’s somewhere in his endless home, hiding away. 

you don’t know if he does this for him, for your sake, or for everybody else. 

“did you see your husband this morning?” one of your maids said excitedly as she tugged the undergarments over your raised arm, a gleeful smile on her face as she rambled about something gojo had done. you couldn’t help but return a smile of your own, although it didn’t quite meet your eyes. 

“yes, briefly. he’s busy with having to worry about the feast,” which wasn’t a total lie. you’d seen him hurriedly brush past you, quickly glancing at you as if he had forgotten you were his wife. you felt your chest tighten up with the way he glanced at your hand, and then quickly left. 

it was only a few nights away and you knew that it was the only buzz of news anybody seemed to talk about. unfortunately, for you, it meant having to socialize with other clans. you were fine with that aspect, you’d been doing it since you were young, but this time they had a right to be nosey. you knew there would be endless questions asked about the honeymoon stage of your marriage, to which you had no answer. 

sure, you’d been making up answers to hypothetical questions, but you didn’t know what gojo would be answering with, so you were only praying some of your responses would line up. 

for a night the two of you would have to pretend to be husband and wife, and while the people around you knew you were anything, you knew you had to commit to the role for the sake of you and your family’s dignity. 

but all this worrying isn’t good for your head, you could already feel the pang as you squeezed your eyes to try and get rid of it. you tried to move on from your worries, going to comment on her necklace, it seemed new, but a knock interrupted you. the two of your heads popped up, looking at where the sound came from. 

“come in!” you called out, buttoning up the last bits of your top as you thanked myra. she nodded, bowing as she went to open the door. you could hear her faint footsteps, not bothering to look up as she greeted the person behind. you guessed it was franchesca coming with the fabric samples. 

“sir,” you heard myra say, and your head swirled around, only to see the topic of your conversation make his way into your room, excusing your maid with a swift motion of his hand. she glanced once at you and then to him, ducking her head as she left, closing the door behind her as she left you two alone. 

you felt heat prickle at the back of your neck as he looked at you and then to your room. the two of you slept separately, as per your request the first night. you couldn’t bear the agonizing silence between the two of you, and he obliged. 

he was dressed for sparring. he had a loose-fitting tunic on, and pants that would allow him to move freely and without constraint. it was in moments like these that you were reminded of the fact that gojo was the strongest warrior that any of the clans had seen, that the child who once splurged on sugar in his tea was capable (and has done so before) of taking down entire armies. 

he had matured so much since what you last remembered from him. he no longer acted rashly nor spoke without thinking about what it was he wanted to say. but you still saw him eating sweets with the same fervor he did as a kid, and it never failed to make you smile, hiding it behind your hand so nobody could hear your quiet giggle. 

it had been a while since it was just the two of you, alone, and all you could think about was that night. your cheeks heated up just thinking about it, and it seemed that gojo could tell your discomfort with the way he cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair as he began to speak. 

“good morning,” he started, his eyes darting around, never setting on yours. it was funny if it didn’t cause your heart to hurt irrevocably, at how the strongest warrior in all the land could barely look at his wife. 

if only you knew.

“good morning.” you offered him a quick, disingenuous smile, moving around until you found your vanity, rummaging through your laid-out earrings as you kept your back to him, not trusting your face to give you away if you were to look at him for too long. 

you heard him take in an audible breath, but he continued whatever it was he wanted to say. 

“with the feast coming up, i want to clear some things with you,” you turned around, looping the earrings in as you nodded for him to continue. it was such a shame he was so stunning, effortlessly attractive as the sun caught off his cheekbones, bouncing off of his chest. he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, and you wondered if being here was just as painfully awkward for him as it was for you. 

“we should act like we’re…” he trailed off and you felt yourself itching to leave, knowing what he meant without having to say it. 

“in love?” you finished and he slowly nodded, gnawing on his lip as you brushed past him, going to find the mirror so you could adjust your jewelry. you could see him fidgeting in the corner, and for once you could see a hint of nervousness and unease on his features. 

and a part of you hurt. you would never admit out loud that you harbored a crush on him for as long as you could remember. it hurt knowing that you acting like you were in love was perhaps the lost genuine form of love you could show. 

“what if they ask about the night we met?” you ask after a couple of seconds, looking up from what you were doing. deep down, you knew somebody was bound to ask. even if it was just your mother who had caught the two of you alone in that garden, the news of it somehow spread (she was always one to talk). 

he scratches his head, shrugging as he eventually settles on an idea.

“just tell them the truth.” 

the truth. 

tell them how he followed you after you had run outside, sick to your stomach after a man, who was as old as your father, had introduced himself as a possible suitor. how gojo, the most ruthless warrior in all the land, had carefully put his hands on your back as you retched, offering you a towel he had fetched from inside to clean yourself up. 

tell them how you hadn’t seen him in years but the first thing you had done was to hug him tightly. how his hands wrapped around your back as though they were the only things keeping you afloat. perhaps they were. 

tell them how he murmured words in your hair to bring you back to reality, his thumb running up and down your arms to calm you down. how it seemed like even though it had been years since you two last saw each other, it felt so right, so normal, to be back in his arms. 

tell them how he had looked at you with such worry, such care, unlike anybody else had looked at you, and you for once felt safe in somebody’s arms. 

tell them how your mother found you two in such a compromising position, with your head nestled in his chest as he tried his very best to soothe your cries. it was humiliating and embarrassing to be caught with a man you had only seen back in your teenage years, and especially so in such a vulnerable position. 

you shake your head, scoffing at the idea, “i’ll just come up with something,” was your answer and he nods along, realizing how the story would be too private to share with people you barely knew.

“and we need a reason for why,” he cleared his throat once again, pink dusting on his cheeks as his eyes dropped to your stomach. your eyes met his in the mirror, and one of your eyebrows raised, “well, you’re not exactly looking like you’re carrying a child at the moment.” 

you quickly looked away, the tension in the room increasing as you moved away from the mirror, doing anything you could to keep your hands occupied. you flushed at the comment, your throat drying up as you glanced at your stomach.

the two of you have barely touched, much less been intimate with each other. you were glad he hadn’t forced the idea onto you, instead, leaving it to you to bring up the topic. you only talked about it, once, the night of the marriage, and then never again. you knew that it would have to happen eventually, but you couldn’t do it right now, not with your state of mind. 

you scrambled to say something. in all honesty, you had been dreading this question. you hadn’t been answering any of the letters your mother sent, and you knew people were expecting to hear the news of a pregnancy. 

“we’ll just say we’ve been so busy and preoccupied with the politics of marriage that we couldn’t… consummate.” you offered and he just shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as if this was the biggest inconvenience to him. 

you knew that this marriage was brought upon quickly and before either of you could object to it, but at least you tried to hide it away. if only he hadn’t acted so rashly that night, his hands on your shoulders, eyes bewildered as they racked over your figure. if only he had been more careful, or you were smarter in picking some place to be more concealed, you wouldn’t be put in this position. 

but neither of you was thinking ahead, and here you were. but he was certainly making sure that you knew of his contempt for this arrangement far more than you were. it was irritating, it scratched at your skin and ate away at your mind the more you saw each other.

“look,” he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, off of the way you were fiddling with the ring he had delicately placed on your hand so many weeks ago, “i can come up with whatever they ask, so just try your best to do the same.” you say, your voice tinged with anger, the ring on your finger acting as an anchor to the depths of the sea with the way it weighed down your movements, feeling your chest swell as he stayed silent, watching you as you opened the door. 

“i don’t-”

“um, i won’t be joining you for dinner, so don’t wait on me…i apologize, i need to work on some things for the feast…have a good day.” you swiftly murmured, shutting him in your own room as you left, your heart thumping erratically in your chest as you almost ran down the hallway. 

you had no idea how you were going to persuade the masses that this marriage was working if you couldn’t even persuade yourself. 

---

the feast of clans came earlier than you expected. 

you found yourself perched at the end of the table, gojo next to you, your stiff bodies mirroring each other as the people around you joyously helped themselves to the vast variety of food offered. 

you could barely touch the meal in front of you, your stomach churning uncomfortably with the sheer number of people that surrounded you. back home, you hated these feasts, opting to leave after a couple of bites and finish the rest of what you could pocket in your room, but here, as the clan leader's wife, you had no such luxury. 

“are you not hungry?” you looked to your side, gojo staring at your plate and then to you, his eyes squinting as he tried to decipher what you were feeling.

“i can’t eat,” you murmured, playing with your utensils as you swallowed thickly, “i don’t do well in large crowds.” 

he nodded once, looking out into the sea of bodies as he inched a little bit closer to you. he was donned in expensive fabrics, although his hair still messily fell all over. the candle that was lit in front of you had different hues of oranges and reds bouncing off of his pale skin, and if you didn’t know any better, the blush on his nose and cheeks could have been from the frigid winds from outside. 

“i’ll have myra save you a plate,” he said, giving you a curt smile as he went back to eating. 

you were momentarily taken aback by his comment, but tried not to show it, going back to fidgeting with your ring as you looked at the sea of people. nobody had thankfully come up to you and bombarded you with questions, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t going to eventually happen. 

“thank you,” you say, glancing at him and then back to your plate. 

“anything for my wife,” he replies. it’s only for show, you remind yourself, after all, when was the last time he referred to you as such? 

“gojo,” an old man had walked up to your table, his face lined with wrinkles and a beard, dressed in orange as he offered gojo his hand to shake, “i’m glad to see that you finally settled down.”

gojo blushed deeply, trying to offer him a smile as he motioned to you. 

“it’s hard to resist marriage when such a woman offers it.” he says, and you feel your eyes widen as you try to laugh off his statement. 

“yes,” the old man chuckles, eyeing the two of you. he looked familiar, and you were sure you had seen him around these sorts of gatherings before, “it was only a matter of time before it happened. we all knew just how much you liked her back when you were children.”

the two of you sputtered on your coughs, and you felt a little smile grow on your face as gojo did what he could to usher the man away. 

you could tell with the way he shifted uncomfortably in his seat that gojo wasn’t expecting that, and before you could realize what you were doing you found yourself talking. 

“i’m not a fan of feasts.” you quickly said, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them. it’s not like you felt you owed him an explanation, but you said it regardless. 

gojo looked up from his plate, grabbing his cup so he could wash down his bite. 

“any feast?” he asked, and you could feel the way the air shifted. he was glad you brought up a different topic. 

“one’s as big as this,” you twisted your ring back and forth on your finger subconsciously, “i get nervous in big crowds.”

“i remember,” a small smile grew on his face as he thought back to when the two of you were children, “you would hide under the tables and force me to come with you.” 

you chuckled, blood rushing to your ears at the fact that he remembered this about you. it was the bare minimum of what you remembered from him, but you had convinced yourself that he had washed every memory of your last selves from his mind. 

a rush of distant memories came to your head; nights spent under the tables, laughing as you two tried to keep your voices down as you tried to dodge the feet. you could still hear his whispers of staying quiet, trying to sneak out so he could smuggle in some pastries for you to eat.

“the adults scared me; they were always loud and insistent on asking personal questions.”

“like they are now?” he replied back, a tilt in his voice as you nodded feverishly. 

“yes!” you covered your mouth with your hand as you let out a laugh, a genuine one as you tried to look as put together as you could, “i swear, it’s even worse than when we were young. just the other day a wet nurse came to me and told me the best positions to get into when giving birth!” it really was a mortifying moment, your eyes darting all around as the old lady even took it upon herself to demonstrate the movements, but gojo didn’t seem to mind, laughing along with you. his eyes twinkled as they took in your giggly state, years since he had last seen you like this. 

“i feel like i should apologize,” he starts, having to cover his own infectious smile as he ducks down his head in shame, “i had her sent up to your chambers.”

your mouth dropped open in shock, lightly smacking his arm as he grinned at the look on your face.

“to mortify me so that i would never leave?” your thumb moves your ring back and forth and gojo watches you as you do it. 

“you seemed sick at breakfast, but i guess she thought it was a different sort of sickness.” gojo tells you as he cuts off some of his meat, not knowing just how much his words affected you. 

you had forgotten how simple and easy conversations were with gojo. although this was under a guise to fool people, you felt at ease with him, as if you didn’t have to be on guard with your emotions when he was around. 

“do you still want to hide under the table now?” he asked a couple of seconds later, chewing on a potato as you shrugged, looking around before your lips grew into an apologetic smile. 

“…yes,” you admitted bashfully and he smiled at your honest response. 

“if you want to hide, i’ll-”

“satoru!” a booming voice interrupted your endless spiral of thoughts as the two of you glanced upwards at the sound, “it’s been too long!” 

a man with hair as dark as night and a smile wider than any ocean had come up to your table. he was the first one to do so all night, but gojo didn’t seem bothered by it. he seemed to smile, crescents forming around his eyes as he took his friend's hand.

“too long,” he emphasized with a charming grin, motioning to you and then back to the man in front of you as if he suddenly remembered the two of you and never met, “suguru, this is my wife, y/n. y/n, this is one of my oldest friends.” 

you extended your hand outwards and the man, suguru, took it, placing a soft kiss on the back of it as he shot you a playful smile. he wasn’t at the wedding, but then yet again, it was a rather quick one. the only people who had attended were your families. 

“it’s a pleasure to meet you.” he greeted, and you nodded in agreement, sitting back down next to gojo. you felt his long fingers reach for yours, enveloping your hand in his as your heart sputtered at the touch. 

“likewise,” you answered and the man grinned politely before he slightly tilted his head, looking at the two of you sitting next to each other. 

“he’s not bothering you, is he? i know satoru can be fiendish when he wants to be, so call for me and i’ll take care of him.” he teased and you could only smile tightly and laugh along, gojo’s fingers slightly tightening around yours as he moved your hand to rest on his thigh. 

“i can take care of him when he’s fiendish. i just have to take the sugar away, right?” suguru snorted and gojo glared, but it was playful the way he looked at you. 

his hands were warmer than you would have expected. you could feel the indents of calluses on his fingertips, could feel his thumb moving back and forth on your skin in a calming sort of manner. he didn’t look over at you as he did it, playing it off as second nature. 

“i apologize for not having much time to get to know you, but i have something i need to talk to gojo about. would you mind? it will only take a minute?” he asked, and gojo let go of your hand at the time of his friend's voice. you had to control your urge to roll your eyes, shifting in your seat as you motioned for suguru to talk to your husband, watching as he stood from his seat, leaving with the man as they went somewhere a little more secluded. 

you watched as gojo leaned down to hear whatever it was that suguru was whispering in his ear, pulling back with a frown on his face. he snapped something that only caused suguru to reel back, cast a quick glance at you, and then shake his head in clear annoyance. 

you saw gojo look up, his eyes landing on somebody from across the room, and you followed his stare, only to land on a girl. 

she wore a dark yellow tunic and skirt, colors from a neighboring clan. you hadn’t seen her before, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t known. just one look at the men surrounding her and you could pick up on their lovesick expressions. 

she motioned for gojo to come to her with a bend of her finger, slyly brushing her hair out of her face to make it look as though it was nothing, exiting from the dining area and vanishing into one of the halls. 

you looked down in case either of the men glanced over to see if you were staring. your eyes pierced through the meat on your plate, bile rising up your throat. 

you gave yourself some time, counting up to a minute before you looked back to where suguru and gojo were, finding suguru standing alone. you looked at where the girl was and saw a flash of white hair before it disappeared, your heart sinking as you glanced back at suguru, only to find him looking at you. 

you looked back at your plate, picking up a knife and fork as you stabbed the meat. you couldn’t keep anything down but it’s best to pretend.

---

gojo didn’t return until half an hour later, and you refused to talk to him. 

“did anybody bombast you with questions?” he teased, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. he didn’t seem to pick up on your darkened mood as your fingers dug into your dress. 

“i had a woman ask me if you had disappeared with your mistress, but that was it.” you remarked, silence filling the void between the two of you and you realized that all you had thought of him was crumbling down. 

you didn’t care for your image anymore, giving curt answers to any questions somebody had asked. you could feel his stare on the side of your face but you didn’t humor him in looking over, focusing on your plate instead. 

so what if he was seeing somebody else? you would have been naive to think that he wouldn’t wander. the two of you barely touched each other. 

once all the guests had left over the course of the following days, you did everything you could to steer away from gojo. 

you no longer came down for breakfast or dinner, choosing to eat in your own quarters. if he wanted to have his own secrets, he could do whatever he pleased. 

though you rarely saw suguru after the feast, he did try to talk to you the morning after it took place. he cornered you after you had left from breakfast, his once playful demeanor turned serious as you tried your best to end the conversation. 

“what you saw last night-”

“is none of my business,” you finished, raising your hand as you cut him off, “if gojo has his own private matters to deal with, i’m indifferent to them all.” 

“you know that’s not what it was.” his hand hovered over your arm, careful not to touch you but not wanting you to leave either. 

“i ruined his life, didn’t i?” you tilted your head a bit in questioning. after all, that’s all you could hear from the women who gossiped as they folded the laundry, or behind the hands of the girls who watched you and gojo interact and the mothers who wanted their daughters to be set up with him only sneered at you from across the tables. 

“you…where’d you get that from?” his brows scrunched together in confusion as you scoffed, hoping he couldn’t see the tears welling in the corner of your eyes at the sting of your own words. 

“i can see it on his face. if gojo wants to have his own affairs, he can have them. it’s not like we’re in love. hopefully, i find my own way out so that the two of us look happier and this marriage looks somewhat presentable to the public.” 

you didn’t want to see the look on his face, but you’re sure he reported this all back to gojo because he didn’t look at you once after it. 

you heard from a maid a week later that he was gone for another meeting with a clan, a southern one from what you picked up, and that you should probably go and wish him some luck. 

leading up to the night of his departure you anxiously paced around your room, your feet padding on the floor as your nightgown swished behind you. 

you hadn’t talked to gojo at all that day, and purposefully so. 

it was petty, you know it was, to not want to see him, but a part of you still aches when you look back on that night. at how he didn’t explain where he was even after you asked, at how it was suguru he had sent to fix his dirty work for him. 

“y/n?” a muffled voice came from outside your door. 

your head shot up at the familiar sound, quietly dragging yourself out from your bed as you grabbed the candle, hovering on the other side as you waited for him to say something else. 

“are you awake?” you heard a soft thud from his side, almost as if his head or arm had hit the door. 

you didn’t answer, still, waiting. 

“i’m leaving tomorrow and i wanted to see you before i left.” your heart skipped at his words, careful not to make a sound as you near the door. 

“if you’re sleeping i won’t bother you anymore but if you’re not,” you could hear the old stutter he had coming back, his words meshing together as he tried to regain control, “and you’re choosing to stay quiet, i…” he sighed, his forehead thumping down as he rested it on the door, “i wanted to apologize for the feast. i shouldn’t have left you alone, and if you’d open the door, i would explain why…” he could see the flicker of the candle from underneath the crack, and saw the way it blew away, darkness following suit. 

you walked back to your bed, turning your back to the door as you set the candle down on your table. 

“goodnight,” his voice was quieter than before, and you felt guilty, but pushed the bitter feeling down.

a couple of seconds later you heard him let out a sigh of defeat, his footsteps leading away from your bedroom as you curled into yourself, hoping you would let your heart stop taking control of what your head should be doing. 

---

gojo didn’t return for a while, and you grew more impatient by the day. 

it normally took him and his men a week at maximum, and once two had passed, you felt yourself growing uneasy. 

you tried to act as passive as you could, but even myra could pick up on your growing apprehension. you have never voiced your worries over your husband before, but she knew this wasn’t like any other time. 

when you went to bed, the only thing you could dream about was that night, your brain re-running the images as you tossed and turned. 

“are you alright?” he asked, his hands on your elbows as you could barely speak, your blurry vision impairing your sight. you could only see a mop of white in the darkness, your stomach betraying you as you tried to keep the sick down. 

“i don’t feel too good,” you mumbled, trying to put some distance between the two of you as you pushed him away, only to feel him coming closer as he placed a hand on your forehead and then to your cheeks. 

“you’re burning up,” he muttered under his breath, guiding you gently so that you wouldn’t trip over your feet. 

“i’m sorry, you can go back inside, i don’t want to keep you out here.” you were slurring your words as you tried not to throw up on him. you wiped at your eyes so that you could see him better, only to reel back in utter shock to see the face of your childhood friend frowning down at you. 

your mouth formed in the shape of his name, going to say something else, before you hunched over, feeling his strong hands pat your back and keep the hair out of your face as you felt your world tilt on its axis. 

you ate your dinner at the table, eyeing his empty seat as you tried to shove his last night out of your mind. you shouldn’t feel this way, especially about a man who feels nothing towards you, but your little heart was churning in its confines the more you let yourself think about it.

sitting in the same spot where the feast took place only brought back the venomous taste in your mouth, and so you pretended that you were back home, eating somewhere without the worry of your life weighing you down like a thousand weights on your shoulders. 

myra tried her best to distract you, but she could see the distant look in your eyes, how your voice never seemed too genuine. she began to worry for you, but it seemed like your mind was fixed on one thing. 

until you found yourself pacing around your room, just like you were the night you last heard of him, playing with the ring on your finger as the moon carded through your window. 

“my lady,” you heard myra through the door, her voice shaky and a bit more on edge than usual, “there’s-” but before she could finish it slammed open, revealing the man you’d been biting your nails over, standing in the flesh.

his eyes were a dark blue, squinted as they looked right through you. his chest heaved as he looked like he was trying to catch his breath. you could see the streaks of blood that lined his usually clean clothes, the red that stained his cheeks and jaw. 

he looked feral, and it was throwing you off balance. 

“out.” he snapped at myra, and before you could scold him for his tone she fled, the door shutting roughly behind her. 

the two of you could only stare at each other. you didn’t know what to think after weeks of uselessly worrying over him, not knowing about his well-being, to see him here, in front of you, but looking different than he ever had. 

“are you alright?” 

you could barely get it out, the works sticking on your tongue as you took a tentative step forward, not knowing what to do with his state of being. 

he eyed the blood on his shirt, wiping at his cheeks as if he had forgotten it was there. he didn’t look too dirty, less dirty than one would expect from a five week endeavor through the woods, but he didn’t look too good either. 

“you were awake.” is all he says, his chest still moving up and down as though he couldn’t breathe properly. 

“that night i came by, you were awake. i saw your candle, i heard your footsteps.” he says this as though it’s fighting its way out of his mouth as if it’s all he could think about to tell you. 

“i,” you pretend that you don’t care, shrugging, “i wasn’t up to talk.” 

“you were with suguru.” he snaps, his tone shocking you, and he steps back as if he had shocked himself. he jammed his palms into his eyes, tilting his head upwards before he looked back at you. 

“for five weeks you were all i could think about. i wanted to come back, i wanted to tell you what i felt but we kept running into issues with other tribes and clans.” 

“what could you possibly think about that occupied your mind for five weeks?” you so desperately wanted your voice to come out strong but it sounded weak, as though you were hanging off of his every syllable. 

“you had told suguru that you were going to find your…own way out,” he took a step forward, and here you could see the scratches on his chest, the cuts on his arms, “i was praying to every god there was that you hadn’t found somebody in these past weeks, that you hadn’t…”

you could barely believe his words, not knowing if you should feel offended, shocked, worried, or a mix of all those three. 

“what business would it be to you if i did?” you hate that this was the response you settled on. hurt flashed across his face but he tried to regain his composure. 

“you are my wife-”

“and you are my husband!” you snapped and watched as he was momentarily taken aback by your outburst, but you continued your nose flaring, “you cannot argue with me on this when you left with some girl in the middle of our feast!” you felt all your emotions finally pouring out and you had no control over them, “everybody was talking about it, everybody was looking at me in pity!” your voice cracked, tears poking at your eyes as you pointed an accusatory finger at him. 

gojo looked down, running a hand through his hair as he pointed a finger back. 

“if you had let me explain myself, you would have known that she was trying to do what you thought she was. i left as quickly as i could but you would barely look at me!” you wanted to rip your hair out, cursing yourself for ever feeling any sort of worry for this man. 

“i know that this marriage was the last thing you wanted but at least you could play the part of a husband! you didn’t send a single note, anything to tell us that you were okay, that you were alive!” you heaved, fidgeting with your ring as you wiped at your cheeks, “and you come back here accusing me of adultery? all everybody could talk about was the fact that you were warming somebody else’s bed! they said a meeting never takes this long unless something…somebody else comes up.” your voice wobbles at the end, and you find yourself furiously rubbing your tears away, hiding your sniffing as though that would do anything.  

he paused upon seeing you cry, his face falling as he tried to step forward but you angled yourself away from him, hoping he’d get the hint. 

he wanted to hold you, to tell you that all the rumors you were hearing were false and that the only room he had left in his heart was for you. but he couldn’t blame you for feeling or thinking this way. hell, he was so sure that he’d open the door to find another man comforting you that he didn’t even stop to consider what must have been going through your head all these weeks. 

“one of the clans tried to attack us, and we weren’t ready for it. that is why we took so long.” 

you sniffle again, not caring for his explanation although it did soothe a part of your past self. 

“you could have at least sent a letter telling me what happened,” you fidget with your ring, your thumb running over the diamond, “everybody asked me questions that i should have had answers to, but i had no idea where you were or what you were doing…” he nods, his lips pressed into a thin line as he agreed with you. 

“you're right,” his voice was thick with emotion, the words slurring in his mouth as he found himself anchored in place, not knowing what to do. but you were rambling, your thoughts going on and on and you couldn’t stop yourself. 

“…but i know you don’t like letters, so the least you could have done was send a parchment saying i’m alive or something like that.” you rub at your nose again, feeling like all the weeks of worry we’re coming to a standpoint. 

he looked confused now, if anything, and scratched at his jaw. 

“what do you mean?” 

you scoff at the audacity, rolling your eyes as you feel anger prickle at your skin. 

“you never once responded to any of my letters. in my eyes, that must mean you have some sort-”

“letters? what letters?” 

you glance at him, taking in his shaking form. 

“come on gojo,” you feel embarrassed as he urges you to speak, having to spell it out for him, his eyes pleading with you to continue, “the ones from when you left for training.”

his mouth opens and then closes, looks at the ground and then back up to you as he shakes his head. you could hear your fireplace crackling in the background. the only sounds circling the room were the pops of ember and your breathing. 

“i…” he feels like there’s cotton in his mouth, hoping that you’re lying, “i never got any letters.” 

the fire crackled once again and you could almost hear a pin drop as you shook your head vehemently at his statement. 

“n-no, no you did. i wrote to you every week, i sent one every week for two years and you never responded and my mother said that you must have forgotten about me…” and you trail off, the tears in your eyes stoning as he furiously wipes at his own eyes, and for the first time since you had seen him fall down when he was a kid, you saw his own tears staining his cheeks. 

“nobody gave me your letters. i thought that you,” he takes a deep breath, tongue poking inside his cheek as he tried to control himself, “i thought that you didn’t care for me anymore.” 

you hug your midsection, your emotions running wild at his words. 

“i was under the impression that you hated me.” you admit, and he looks as though you stabbed him through the heart. if only others could see the powerful warrior now, stripped bare to his conscience and all he could think about was you. 

“why…why would you think such a thing?” you two inch closer without knowing it, longing to touch each other, wanting to know that the other was really there and that this wasn’t a figment of your imaginations. 

“gojo, you could barely looked at me that night at the gala and now it seems as though you, well, look at you - you’re flushed!” you’re grasping at straws, motioning towards his face,  twinged with pink as you rub at your nose, “you seem angry whenever i am near-” 

“the only person i am angry at is myself.” gojo whispers, but his voice echoed around the expanse of your skull. 

“yes, i’m aware,” you feel cold despite the fire in the corner, your tone carrying an air of know as you scorn, “i know the last thing you expected by comforting me was a marriage but-” 

“you think i am angry because i married you?” he was moving closer, his hands shaking, his eyes wet. you could see the ring on his finger glow in the dim light of the fireplace, how it shined brighter than any of the night skies, “the only good thing that has happened to me these last few months was being able to introduce myself as your husband. i know that i stripped you bare of any love you may have had for any other man, but call me selfish for feeling glad that i did.” 

you could barely focus on what was happening, his words sinking deep into your skin, going to your bones. 

“i told myself that you had forgotten about me those years i left. when i saw you that night i was so sure you had come with the intention of finding a suitor that i didn’t want to distract you, but then i saw that man come up to you…” and he couldn’t finish, choking on his words as he stuttered, and you saw a glimpse of the boy you had fallen in love with so long ago. 

“and i followed you out. if i knew that simply being alone with you would have gotten me married to you then i would have cornered you in a closet the moment i saw you enter the dining hall.” 

a tear rolls down your chin, splattering on the ground beneath you as you struggle to make sense of what he was saying. it felt as though the months of being married to him were weeks spent pacing around your own rooms, thinking the same worried thoughts, and not having the strength to confront each other about it. 

“you…you don’t hate me?” your voice is timid, almost not believing yourself as the statement tumbled out. gojo had the audacity to laugh a bit, shaking his head as strands of his hair fell into his face. 

“my every waking moment is spent thinking of you. when i was in training, you were all i could dream about, hoping that when i’d come home i could finally have you to myself. 

“you have control over my emotions, my mind, my soul, and i cursed myself for taking away your options for a husband, but the only thing i’ve wanted to do these past few weeks was to hold you in my arms. to tell you just how deeply i yearn for your love back.” 

he wiped at his cheeks, glistening in the faint light. he looked angelic, despite the grime and blood that decorated his clothing. you didn’t want to think about the men he had killed just to come back, to come back to you, and the thought of ever losing him hurt you more than when you spent nights wondering why he never responded to any of your letters. 

you couldn’t stop your feet from leading you toward him, and you could only watch as he met you in the middle, catching you with all his strength, holding you as if you weighed nothing, and it only took a few seconds before your lips collided. 

it was rushed, and messy as you felt his hands holding you as if you carried the weight of the universe. your teeth clashed, your tears staining each other's skin as your hands gripped at his hair, using it for leverage as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, enjoying the whimper that escaped your lips when he nipped at yours. 

it was what years of longing and desperation felt like. how it felt like you two just molded into each other as if your bodies were cut out with the other in mind. you felt like your heart was about to stop beating, and you knew gojo felt the same with the way he’d whine against your lips, wanting you more than you could have ever imagined. 

“we’ve been stupid people, haven’t we?” you whispered as you pulled away, trying to catch your breath as he smiled against you. if only you knew just how much he’d been wanting to kiss you like this, to see your swollen lips as you looked at him from beneath your eyelashes. you were his venus, his only saving grace, and he could only vex himself for ever making you feel anything but love. 

“very, “ he pressed a kiss to the corner of your eyes, “very,” to your nose, “stupid,” his lips were on your cheeks, feeling like he was breathing in new air at the sound of your laughter, “people.” he pressed his lips to yours again, cherishing in the way you whined at the harshness. 

he had spent months convincing himself that you no longer cared for him. weeks of perilous training to only come back to a bed and dream of a girl who didn’t share his emotions when in reality you did. he wants to track down the letters you had sent him, to read every word carefully, as if each sentence carried its own riddle inside of it. he wanted to apologize for never having the honor of experiencing your skilled penmanship, for leading you to believe that he had simply forgotten about you. 

“gojo,” your fingers curl in his tunic, your heat transferring, trying to be rational in such an irrational state of being, “you’re bleeding, i should call for the doctor.” he didn’t stop kissing your face, moving to your jaw as he smiled hearing you shudder. 

“it’s not my blood,” he murmured and you wanted to smack him for how cocky he sounded, “and don’t call me gojo.” he nipped at your lips again. 

“husband?” you found yourself smiling at the title, but he shook his head. you saw how he was trying to hide his own grin. 

“sire?” you tested it out teasingly, hating how it sounded. he seemed to agree with the way he grimaced at the name. 

“my lord?” he wanted to bottle up your laughter forever, knowing he could get drunk off of the sound. his nose nudged up at your jaw, pressing wet kisses wherever he could. 

“hmm, what about my liege?” you're curling a strand of his hair around your fingers letting him settle you down on your vanity as you spread your legs so he could slot between them. 

“my men call me that.” he says, cringing as it falls off your mouth. you pretend to think, not knowing how you were able to live without this banter for as long as you did. 

“satoru?” you felt breathless saying it after so long. but he still didn’t seem to find it satisfactory enough, a pout on his lips as he wanted you to find a better one. 

“close, but only when you’re angry with me.” you tuck that information in the back of your mind for if you ever need to scold him, your cheeks flushed as he interlocks his fingers through yours. 

“‘toru…?” his lips broke into a giddy smile, and you had to control yourself as he swooped back in for a kiss. his eyes were so much softer when he laughed, the kind ones you fell in love with so many nights ago. 

“there it is,” his voice was husky, raw as your fingers gripped at the baby hairs at his nape. he was taking your air away with him and you couldn’t find it in yourself to fight back for it. 

“i forgot how cheeky you can be,” you bite your lip to keep the moans inside, feeling feverish as his tongue ran over his love marks, not knowing what to do yourself as you scrambled to grab onto something to keep you afloat.

“you have no idea how much self-control it’s taken not to ravage you,” his breath is hot on your skin, and he’s tugging at your shirt, fingers slightly brushing upon your breasts, “every night you’d come down for dinner i wanted something different to eat.”

“stoppp,” you mewled, not used to this. he chuckles as his slender fingers work to untie the knot keeping you together, tugging at the string until it falls, revealing your naked chest, heaving as the fabric pooled at your hips. 

you wanted to cover yourself up under his heavy gaze, to take the fabric and hide, but you felt pierced by his stare. his eyes darted to yours as if checking to see if you were okay. when you gave him a timid nod, it seemed as though it prompted him to finally move. 

his fingers were gentle as they ran across your waist, large as they covered the soft of your stomach, eager as they went upwards. he looked like he was crazed and starved, as if you were his last meal and he couldn’t wait for the sweetness death would give. 

your breath stuttered as his fingers found your mounds, rubbing a soothing thumb over your nipples as his pupils grew. he was eager as he flicked them over and over, a cheshire grin growing as they hardened under his touch. 

“you’re perfect,” he murmured, dropping down so he could suckle at your tits, his spit shining in the light of the fire, and you tilted your head back, soft moans escaping as his tongue drew circles around your buds. 

“f-fuck, ‘toru, that’s,” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, his second hand coming to cup your other tit, not wanting to leave her unattended as he sucked and bruised, wanting to forever leave his mark on your untainted skin. 

“good?” he’s so cocky, and you want to smack the smug smirk off his devilishly handsome face. 

his knee is purposefully rubbing against your clothed clit, and you feel yourself subconsciously rubbing yourself against it. you hope that he can’t feel how drenched you are from him just sucking your tits, but he pinches you, pressing his tongue flat against your skin as he looks up through his lashes.

“horny from just me touching you?” he’s teasing you, it’s so painful the way you want, need him like oxygen. you tug on his hair roughly, bringing his spit-soaked lips back to yours as you bite down on his lower one, enjoying the groan you draw out from him. 

“don’t be mean ‘toru,” you taunt, and you feel him melt in your fingers, nodding to your request as he lowers himself down. 

he presses wet kisses down your torso, stopping just above your hips, his fingers hooking along the rim of your underwear, being careful and slow in his movements as he waits for any objections, making sure you’re okay with this. 

but you were in your own world, hitching your leg over his shoulders, drawing him in closer to you, sweat dotting your forehead as he licks a stripe over the cotton on your pussy, smiling to himself at the taste of you. 

you were so sweet, sweeter than any desert he’d indulge himself on. he was sure that once he had a taste of you he’d be able to repent, to go before any god, and to tell them that you were his religion.

he had spent countless nights, tossing and turning in his bed, the only thing putting him to sleep being the idea of coming home to you. running after you that night was him running home to you, regardless of where you were. he was glad he got your hand in marriage, but if he had to, he’d wait another ten years just to hold you in his arms again.

he peels your underwear off, a string of your arousal connecting to it, and he tucks it in his pants, for safekeeping. 

“you’re going to be the death of me.” he says against your heat, his nose rubbing against your clit as your eyes wring shut in pleasure. his hands grip your thighs, making sure you stay in place as he kitten licks around where you need him the most. 

“don’t let…don’t let any of your enemies hear,” your voice comes out in bits, your hand resting on the back of his head as your leg tightens around him, “don’t want them to come after me or something.” 

he snorts, pinching your thighs as if anybody could come within a ten feet radius of you without losing an eye. 

his lips come closer to where you desperately want him, a finger prodding at your tight entrance, his tongue finding your clit as he begins to suck. 

it’s all too much, the sensations far better than your own fingers have ever proved to be. 

his fingers are skilled, long enough that they reach deep within you. he sinks one fully in, your walls clamping around him as he continues sucking your clit, his teeth grazing it every so often, making your head thump against the wall. 

“talk to me, how do you feel?” his mouth discontented from your bud and you whine at the loss. he sinks in another finger to make up for it, but he doesn’t move them, waiting for your response. 

“‘s good,” one of your hands is fisting your discarded robe, trying to hold onto your senses as you desperately nod, “don’t stop ‘toru, please,” and he obliges, loving the sounds of your begging, but loving the sound of your pleasures more. 

his fingers stretch you open and you welcome the sting, your nails digging into him as you long for more. 

he switches his mouth with his hand every now and then, his tongue taking the place of his fingers as it licks at you, groaning at your taste as he eats you out with his entire being, his chin shining with your essence and his spit as his thumb rubs furiously at your clit. 

“mmhhh, just like that, fuck!” you’ve never heard your voice at this pitch, never knew it was possible to feel this way. his other hand reaches up to flick at your nipple, the extra sensation making white dot around your vision. 

you feel yourself getting closer to the sweet release, feel your wall clamp around him even tighter as that knot in your stomach builds to a crescendo. 

“come on, let go f’me, know you want to, know you can.” he spurs you on, his fingers unrelenting as they piston in and out of you, reaching that gummy spot that makes you go dumb.

“fuck, ‘toru, m’gonna, m’gonna come!” you cry out and you’re sure anybody walking past you could hear the debauchery. your thighs were starting to shake and you felt it all go black as you reached your high, your orgasm washing over you unlike anything you’ve ever felt. 

you creamed around his fingers, gushing around him as you wailed out, tears dotting your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling. you squeezed around him, wanting to never lose what this felt like, trying to catch your breath as his mouth never stopped sucking at your nub before he was sure your climax was over. 

when he finally pulled away the only thing that could be heard was the two of you, trying to come back down as stupid smiles made their way onto each of your faces. 

he was boyishly charming as he stood in front of you, licking yourself off of his fingers as he grinned at the taste. you couldn’t be bothered to be embarrassed after having him just between your legs, but you still felt a heat blossom in your chest. 

“so…” you awkwardly start, sweat dripping down your face from just how hot the room had suddenly gotten as you avert your gaze, “what now?” 

he shrugged nonchalantly, despite the fact that his heart was about to beat it’s way out of his chest. you let him pick you off of the vanity and tucked you safely away into his chest as he led you to your bed, gently setting you down in your mountain of pillows and blankets as you felt sleep etch away at you. 

“i’m going to clean you up,” he pressed a kiss to your hair, smiling at the way you giddy smiled at whatever he did, a dopey grin on your face as your hand searched for his, interlocking you fingers with his as if you didn’t want to watch him go, “if you let me.” 

you yawn, your head tilting as he sat down at the edge of your bed, still not letting go of your hand as your fingers run through the soft pelts beneath you. 

“and what about you?” your chin points the obvious hard-on growing in his pants. he looks down as if suddenly realizing, and he plays it off by looking back up to you with a wink. you felt your mouth going dry at the size of it, not knowing if you could even be able to take something as big as that. 

“for another day,” he promises, and you’re sure he’s not going to forget it. not like you want him to.

“and then?” 

your question lingers in the air. you don’t want to wake up to him acting like this never happened, as if your feelings were only a figment of your wildest dreams. but his eyes hold onto yours, never letting go as he brushes some strays away from your face. 

“and then i get a bigger bed for my room because there’s no way i’m letting you sleep here alone after this.” his thumb runs along the palm of your hand, his fingers tracing patterns into the soft of your legs. 

“and then?” 

“and then you tell me all the things i missed out on when i was gone. i’ll tell you about the time suguru shaved my head, and you’ll tell me about anything on your mind.” 

“what if i run out of things to say?” sleep is overtaking your voice, and you’re already nodding off, not even truly knowing what you were asking. 

“then i’ll make up stories so that you’re not bored.” he finds a clean towel, soaking it in water from a nearby pitcher as he drags it slowly across your body, as if your fragile and made of porcelain. 

“how do i know you’re not a dream? you might just be,” you yawn, rubbing at your eyes as your finger traces his ring, “you might just be my own mind tricking me.” your eyes are shutting, but the teasing smile on your face never leaves. 

“because a dream wouldn’t hide under a table with you if you asked.” he whispers, kissing your lips with a soft peck as he pulls the blanket over you, letting you sleep into a slumber as he crawls in next to you, holding you to his chest just as he did that night, just as he will every night from now on, and just as he longed for those nights he wished you next to him.

[chastiefoul]

he finds you crying ft. love and deepspace men

ft. zayne, xavier, rafayel, and sylus a/n: I always feel like mc wasn’t given enough time to grief when chapter 4 happened (or maybe they just didn’t show it or i remember it wrong) but to lose the people you’ve considered family like that in front of your eyes would severely mess on anyone’s mental well-being. mc stronger than me fr i would've had a breakdown every night. so i tried to write the comfort that was long overdue. <3

Zayne

He found you hunched over at the couch, knees tucked to your chest. your shoulder shook as he heard the sniffles and although he’s physically perfectly fine, he swore it felt like his heart was breaking in two.

He would gently put his key on the table, making his presence known in the subtlest way possible so you didn’t get startled.

You quickly tried to wipe your eyes and sat normally but suddenly in no time you were carried as he made you sit on his lap, bringing your head close to his neck as he held you tight.

Zayne wasn’t one who’s great at offering consoling words, as he also a firm believer of actions speak louder than words. As he rubbed your back gently he only said, “Let it all out, I’m here.”

So you did just that. You’ve said this once to him as a joke, but truly, anywhere by his side was the time you felt the most safe.

The doctor continued to comfort you in silence, hoping with every beat of his heart that his arms and hands that’s so used in saving people’s lives, could offer at least some kind of solace for your heart that was in disarray.

Xavier

He’d never hated the sight of a bed so much, until he found you crying atop of it.

Xavier would rushes over to you (arguably faster when he encountered strayed wanderers), determined to do anything he could to help you feel better.

As he put a hand over your cheek, wiping the tears that just kept on coming he whispered, “I’m here, what do you need?”

When you couldn’t even manage a reply Xavier would just stay by your side, his and was diligent in rubbing the side of your face; he never felt so useless, knowing the little gesture gave almost to none help.

For someone who finds sleep easy inbetween every hours, that was the most restless he’s ever been. He stayed with you until you calmed down, offering gentle whispers as you felt your awake state slipping away.

The moment you’re asleep Xavier was keen on wiping your face softly off of the remaining tears, and he tucked you in properly. He brought you to his embrace.

Yet unlike any other nights, he couldn’t find any part of him that was able to join you into the dream state.

Rafayel

Rafayel knew he came at a bad time. Seeing the way you spoke so stiffly and the way you zoned out of the conversation every few minutes.

However, he also knew he couldn’t leave you alone right then.

The silence once again was loud, but he didn’t think you realize that, as he followed your stare to the table, to what’s on the top of the table to be exact. A necklace with an apple charm on it.

He approached your side, cupping your face with both of his hands. “Miss bodyguard, you don’t have to be strong all the time, you know? Especially now, since you’re off duty.”

You chuckled quietly, but what followed after was not your usual easy smile but instead it was tears streaming down your face. And it felt like Rafayel could offer anything he had just to make them stop. And if that’s not enough, he swore to give you twice or thrice of what he had, it didn’t matter if he was to be in debt.

He held you tight, the sight of you crying was enough to make tears made their way to his eyes as well. And it pained him, knowing the best he could do in that moment was only to hold you tighter, as he wished that he could mend whatever broken part you had with one of his.

Sylus

He didn’t even flinch when you climbed on his lap, your usual talkativeness was nowhere to be found.

You rested your head on his shoulder and within seconds he knew that your emotions were in chaos, and if you thought you could find comfort in him, then he was more than happy to be there for you.

“Let me stay like here for a while,” you said weakly, voice all tense and anxious.

He brought a palm to your back, “By all means, darling. You didn’t think I was going to turn you away, did you?”

You stayed quiet, trying your best to get your emotions in order but it just seemed impossible. Sylus then sigh at your another attempt to pretend once again that you’re okay. “Cry if you need. Tears were never a sign of weakness, it just proves that you’re human.”

His rigid sentence somehow brought a strange sense of comfort for you, making your tears escape freely.

Sylus’ fingers felt fleeting on your back, like a touch that could slip away anytime. But he made sure none of that will happen as he stroke your hair gently over and over.

Was he worried of you? Absolutely. Yet he believed with all of his entire being that you that has fallen apart that day, would have no time standing back up again on the next day.

If there’s anything he learnt about you during your time with him, is that you’re a stranger to giving up.

[luv-lock]

⸻ ɪ ɴ ᴛ ʜ ᴇ ᴅ ᴀ ʀ ᴋ ⸻

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Fem Reader

Headcanon: how would he be when he's obsessed?

Note: English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

Bruce Wayne is a man shaped by tragedy, a billionaire with an iron will and an unrelenting sense of justice. But beneath the stoic façade lies a broken soul. When Bruce becomes obsessed, it isn’t violent outbursts or chaotic behavior—it’s cold, calculated, and methodical. He doesn’t lose himself to obsession; he leans into it, weaponizing his resources and intelligence to keep you close. After all, what is Batman if not a man who cannot let go?

Maybe you’re someone he met at a gala—a rare individual who caught his attention without trying. Maybe you’re an employee at Wayne Enterprises, someone who treated him like a person rather than the playboy billionaire. Or maybe you stumbled into Gotham’s darker corners, and he saved you as Batman. Whatever the case, Bruce finds himself drawn to you in a way he hasn’t been to anyone else in years.

At first, he tells himself it’s curiosity. You’re intriguing, sure, but nothing more. Yet he can’t stop thinking about you. Every word you said, every look you gave him, replays in his mind like a song stuck on repeat. And Bruce, has to understand why.

Bruce doesn’t approach you immediately; instead, he observes. He justifies it as caution. After all, he’s Batman—he needs to know everything about you to protect you.

He learns everything there is to know: your name, your routines, your friends, your secrets. He watches you through security cameras, listens to your conversations through bugs he discreetly plants, and even monitors your online activity.

But to Bruce, this isn’t invasive—it’s necessary. How else can he ensure your safety in a city as dangerous as Gotham?

As Bruce Wayne, he’s charming, attentive, and subtly magnetic. He uses his wealth and influence to insert himself into your life. Invitations to exclusive events? Job offers at Wayne Enterprises? He makes it impossible for you to say no without coming across as ungrateful.

As Batman, he’s your silent protector, always one step ahead. If you’re ever in trouble, he’s there—appearing out of the shadows to save you. He doesn’t speak much when he’s Batman, but the way his gaze lingers on you feels almost suffocating.

You’d never suspect that the billionaire who’s so eager to help you and the vigilante who seems to always be around are one and the same.

Bruce’s obsession manifests in his need for control. He doesn’t see himself as possessive—he sees himself as protective. You don’t need to worry about toxic friends, late-night walks, or bad decisions because Bruce will take care of everything.

If someone gets too close to you, Bruce doesn’t lose his temper. Instead, he uses his resources to quietly remove them from your life. A coworker who flirts too much? Suddenly transferred. A friend who badmouths Bruce? Their secrets mysteriously come to light.

“It’s for your own good,” he tells himself. After all, Bruce believes he knows what’s best for you better than you do.

Bruce is painfully self-aware. He knows his feelings for you aren’t healthy, and he hates himself for it. But his guilt doesn’t stop him; it fuels him. He rationalizes his actions by convincing himself that you’re safer with him watching over you.

“I’ve already lost so much,” he whispers to himself late at night in the Batcave, your face flickering on the monitor in front of him. “I can’t lose her too.”

In his mind, his obsession is just another sacrifice he makes for the people he loves. He can bear the weight of being a monster as long as it means keeping you safe.

Bruce rarely shows his jealousy outright—it’s subtle, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface. If you mention another man, his jaw tightens imperceptibly. If someone touches you, his eyes darken, and his hand lingers a little too long on your shoulder as he pulls you away.

Behind the scenes, though, he’s ruthless. The man who asked for your number? He’ll find himself the target of a police investigation. That friend who keeps trying to set you up on dates? Suddenly, they’re avoiding you without explanation.

“I’m just looking out for you,” he says when you start to notice how people in your life seem to vanish. “Gotham is dangerous. You can never be too careful.”

Bruce’s obsession remains controlled until you try to distance yourself. Maybe you’ve started to feel smothered, or maybe you’ve realized that the people disappearing from your life aren’t coincidences. When you confront him—whether as Bruce or Batman—he’s calm, almost unnervingly so.

“I only want what’s best for you,” he says, his voice steady. “Do you have any idea how much danger you’re in without me?”

If you try to leave, that calm facade shatters. He won’t hurt you—never you—but he’ll do everything in his power to make sure you stay. He’ll cut off your options, isolate you, and remind you that no one else can protect you the way he can.

“You think you’re safer without me?” he says, his voice laced with desperation and anger. “You’re wrong. Gotham will chew you up and spit you out. I’m the only thing standing between you and harm.”

Despite his obsession, Bruce’s love for you is genuine in its own twisted way. He wants you to be happy, even if he doesn’t understand that his actions are suffocating you.

There are moments when the mask slips—when Bruce is just a broken man trying to hold onto the one good thing in his life. Late at night, he’ll hold you close, his voice trembling as he whispers, “You’re everything to me. I can’t lose you. Not after everything I’ve already lost.”

In those moments, it’s hard to tell where Bruce Wayne ends and Batman begins. To him, they’re both the same—a man who would do anything to protect the one person he can’t live without.

𝒍𝒖𝒗-𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 ☆ 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[hoshiros]

—✯ KNEE SOCKS

AM Masterlist

cw. 18+ mdni. afab!reader, phone/video sex, established relationship, lingerie, masturbation, HAPPY SAE DAY

"Three."

ITOSHI SAE watches both in fascination and bitter pride as you choke on your own spit. Your nail slowly taps against the side of the vibrator, clicking in the microphone.

Sae clicks his tongue impatiently when you pout at him through the camera, glaring at his stupidly handsome face. "At least let me catch my breath," you glower, burrowing your head against the pillow beneath your cheek.

"Stop stalling. Three."

"Wait—"

"You don't want to disappoint me, do you?"

You seem to contemplate his words for a moment, casting him a shy, tentative glance before you shake your head. The silky lingerie hugging your body slips when you adjust yourself, and Sae can't help the way his eyes gravitate toward the extra flesh spilling over the edge of your thigh-highs.

He grunts, giving himself a squeeze through his sweats at the show. You hesitantly increase the speed of the vibe to three and sputter, pulling it away from your clit in surprise before slowly drawing it against you again.

Some people would think that Sae's favourite view is a vast green pitch crawling with talent. Others would think that it's the sea, wide and sparkling under the sun.

All those idiots are wrong.

His favourite view would always be you on your knees, fists pulled tight around whatever you can grab, face pushed down—helpless and wanting him more than anything in the world. Nothing makes his blood boil hotter.

"Wish you were—" your words tumble into nonsense, high-pitched babbles and whines until the toy slips a little, giving you a chance to speak. "Wish you were here."

"Yeah? Greedy girl, can't get enough, hm?"

"S’not as good without you," you sniffle, feet kicking up and down. They thud softly against the mattress as you writhe, forcing yourself to look at the camera.

The thing Sae hates the most about Spain is that he's confined to a video chat. His fingers twitch, instinctively wanting to reach out to grab you by the hips and give you that little extra help he knows you need.

"I know you can do it," he croons, and through the video you can see his head tilt to the side almost mockingly. "Or do you need me to fuck you that bad?"

You hiccup and shake your head again, pulling your knees closer to your body and angling yourself better for him to see. He almost smiles at the sight—that constant determination he adores so much about you.

The new angle makes you breathless, face turning into the pillow as you gasp and squeal. Sae was more careful with his ministrations than you were with this stupid piece of plastic. 

"That's it," he presses, hips jutting against the fabric of his own pants to try and find some friction. "So pretty."

You cry and cry and cry, voice breaking the longer play with yourself. "Sae," you pant, muffled by the pillow. "Sae... Wanna cum, please? Can I?"

He hums low, agonizingly indecisive. Then, finally,

"Go on."

It only takes a few seconds before you sob, feet kicking again while you cum. Sae is about to laugh when you shake so hard the propped-up phone almost topples over. It gets caught in his throat when you pull the toy away and he can see the slick glistening down its side in the light.

Sae is transfixed. His fingers slip past the elastic of his waist band before he can stop himself and he lets out the tiniest of groans when he squeezes his length proper.

Sticky cum coats his thumb when he swipes over the tip with it, but it's not enough. He needs more. He'd always need more of you—maybe even more than you needed him.

He would never admit that to you, though.

"Again."

[bweeeb]

HARD DICK...or three

Summary: Draco, Theo and Mattheo have always been Y/n's best friends, but when she realizes that the reason her relationships don't last long are them, the conversation takes a funny turn involving three boys with hard cocks.

Warnings: English is not my first language, a lot of intimacy between the boys and the reader.

---

There were people who were lucky in their careers, financial life, academics, and even love life. You were a lucky person but hated to admit that the hardest part for you was always your unluckiest part. Boyfriends were never easy for you, and staying stable with them was even harder. You never considered if the reason none of them lasted or were worthwhile was your fault—your poor choices, or the lack of character in all three serious relationships you had over the past few years. You never questioned it until last night. Dave Franco was your boyfriend for a year and a half, and last night he had a jealous outburst in the middle of a Hufflepuff party. You swore you heard him repeat the same words more than three times, “shitty friends,” “are you sure you didn’t have a threesome?” “They want to fuck you!” You were drunk and getting upset with his words until you realized that maybe your friends were much more intimidating to your boyfriends or flings than you had noticed. So you concluded that no, you were not the problem; they were…

— Alright, Our sleeping beauty has already missed the first classes.

Theodore's voice spread through the silent room along with the rustling of the comforter beside you as he occupied the space next to you.

— If you miss lunch, Snape will punish you until next year.

Mattheo said, pulling the blanket off your body, exposing your figure dressed only in navy blue lingerie that hugged your curves.

— And that means if you want to graduate this year, you better get out of this room.

Draco said, casting his eyes over you as you groaned into your pillow and shook your head in denial.

— Fuck off.

You whimpered, feeling your body shiver from the cold due to the lack of a blanket. Normally, you wouldn't be so exposed in front of your male friends, but Dave had broken up with you, so you didn't care at all if the three saw your butt, breasts, or whatever—it wasn't anything more than they had grown up seeing.

— What the hell happened to you? You didn’t even drink that much last night.

Theo said, and immediately you turned to look at him with a pout on your lips.

— Dave, he broke up with me.

You muttered, sitting up quickly.

— And it's your fault, so one of you owes me some affection.

As soon as you said that, your legs wrapped around Nott's waist, who smiled mischievously at Malfoy and Riddle, who were standing at the foot of the bed, watching you almost naked, snuggling into Theodore’s lap. It wasn’t a secret that you were obviously the dream of the three boys, and the fact that you grew up together gave them enough freedom to act like that among themselves.

— What do you mean?

Theodore asked, wrapping his arms around you.

— Yeah, he broke up with you because we’re your friends? Was he afraid of getting punched if he broke your heart or what?

Mattheo mocked Dave, and Draco laughed beside him and continued:

— Man, I think he's gay; there's no way he broke up with you because of us.

— No, he thinks we fucked or something. I don't know how many times I heard the word threesome or that you guys wanted to fuck me last night. Man, it was like torture.

You groaned, getting off Nott's lap and out of the bed, walking towards the mirror. You looked at yourself and sighed, rolling your eyes.

— The guy broke up with you because he thinks we want to fuck you?

Theodore laughed, and you gave him the middle finger while fixing your hair.

— Honestly, he's more insecure than my grandfather. Merlin, how did you stand him?

Draco laughed as Mattheo approached you and hugged you from behind, wrapping his arms around you and resting his head on your shoulder.

— Oh yeah, Draco’s grandfather probably fucks his grandmother more than that loser Dave fucked you. Am I wrong?

Mattheo said with a mischievous smile directed at you through the mirror's reflection, causing you to laugh and shake your head.

— Ew, I don't want to think about Malfoy's grandparents having sex.

Theodore grunted, getting out of bed.

— Yeah, whatever, but the point here is that you all can hug her, and I can't? Get your claws off her, Riddle.

Draco grumbled, unhappy with your position, receiving an irritating smile from Mattheo, who let you go and allowed you to go to Draco with a gentle smile.

— Ah, he's a baby, guys.

You said, and Draco glared at you with a scowl.

— Shut up…

Draco grumbled, pulling you by the waist and throwing you on the bed with him on top.

— I’ll put a baby in you if you keep that up.

— See, that’s why my relationships don’t last.

You said, throwing your head back and pushing Draco off you to fall beside you on the bed.

— Nah, this is bullshit because we don’t do this with you when you’re dating.

Theodore said, sitting next to where your head was lying, as did Mattheo on the opposite side.

— I don’t know; maybe I’m just a terrible girlfriend and act the wrong way.

You murmured, frustrated, turning onto your stomach to hide your face in a pillow.

— Y/n, princess, stop blaming yourself for the idiot’s idiotic choice.

Draco shrugged while leaning his back against the bed's headboard and throwing another pillow at your now exposed butt.

— You hardly even come near us when you’re dating. I can’t remember the last time I hugged you besides today.

Mattheo made a mocking expression, thinking David was making false accusations about you.

— You are the most loyal person in Hogwarts, and everyone knows it. If your boyfriends are all insecure enough not to handle being with you because of us, it’s simple—they don’t deserve you, dolcezza.

— Really?

You asked, and as confirmation, you received three murmurs of agreement. Propping your elbows on the mattress, your gaze changed to a curious look that was noticed by Nott and Riddle.

— Hmm, do you guys want to?

You asked another question, and this time the boys’ faces on your bed were genuinely confused.

— What?

Mattheo questioned your question, and you laughed, laying your head on Theo’s lap, who had lit a cigarette. With a look, Nott understood; he brought the cigarette to you, and with a wild smile, he answered Mattheo and asked you.

— Fuck you?

— Uh-huh.

You agreed, hearing Draco laugh while accepting the cigarette from Theo.

— Everyone wants to fuck you, princess.

— Right, but I’m not talking about everyone; I’m talking about you guys.

You said impatiently, sitting on your heels to look at the three on your bed, staring at you without saying a word.

— Come on, I’m curious.

— You don’t understand, do you?

Mattheo, with his dark eyes and a sly smile, leaned closer to your neck.

— Don’t understand what?

— You can’t ask if we’d fuck you when you’re dressed like that, darling.

Mattheo murmured, and you heard Theo and Draco’s nasal laughter as they moved on the bed.

— Okay, so that would be a yes?

You asked.

— Hell yeah.

Theo agreed, bringing the cigarette back to his plump lips and then to yours.

Your smile grew with each passing minute of silence in the room. The three of them were eyeing you as if you were gold, and you couldn’t measure how much that amused you.

— What?

You asked, feigning innocence as if you hadn’t seen the bulges growing in the pants of the three there.

— Alright, I’ll get changed so we can meet Pansy and Daphne. Wait for me a second.

With that, you got up from the bed and heard a groan from Draco.

— Seriously? I’m hard as fuck, damn it.

Malfoy groaned again, and the four of you laughed.

— You’re evil.

Theo sighed, and you turned to look at them with a pained face.

— I think my dick is going to break, it’s so hard right now.

Mattheo said, throwing himself on the bed before looking at you at the bathroom door with a huge smile.

— Why are you looking at me like that? I didn’t do anything.

You said innocently, and Mattheo snorted.

— How am I supposed to continue the day like this?

— I don’t know, jerk off together, think of Malfoy's grandparents fucking.

You laughed again, and their scowls grew bigger.

— I swear you’ll pay for this, dolcezza.

Was the last thing you heard besides groans before you left to change for afternoon classes.

---

I hope you enjoy this

And if you want to read some dirty shit here:

[reignpage]

Frat Boy!Gojo

Madri Lager: drunk words

Contents: cursing, just a little conversation between them to set the mood and provide a backdrop for the next fic, not proofread

No fucking way. 

There’s just no fucking way. 

“Why the hell are you here?” You hiss. 

Gojo fucking Satoru strolled into your lecture hall, smug grin on his fuck ugly face, arms folded behind his head and swinging his legs like a maniac. From the doors at the front, he immediately spotted you all the way at the back, sat by your lonesome and you could see his shit-eating grin widen. The whites of his teeth blind you almost as much as his impossibly white hair.

Then, the freak had the audacity to climb the stairs, ignoring the whispering and the pointing, and sat next to you. Well, a seat down because you refused to move your bag, even fought with him a little when he tried to lift it. 

He shrugs, slinging an arm around the back of the chair between you, fingertips way too close to your shoulder, and black sunglasses hanging low on his nose bridge. “Was feeling bored so here I am.”

Counting to ten, you tried to put on a patient voice, like you’re berating a child, which you pretty much are, and you grit out, “Bored people take up hobbies. Bored people do things like puzzles and cooking and knitting. Bored people don’t crash lectures and bother other people.”

“I love when you lecture me on common knowledge, wifey. It really warms my heart.” To emphasise his stupid point, he presses a hand to his chest and fans his face with the other. “You’re just so smart.”

You slap his hand away when he tries to boop your nose. People are staring, turning their heads like owls as they strained to listen to your conversations. Some people are taking pictures, no doubt sending it to The Bulletin or whatever, because people have nothing better to do than gossip. You hate this attention; the pointing and whispering because of your appearance you’ve learnt to tolerate, but this? 

This is just irritating on a different level.

At least once a day, a cheerful stranger comes up to you and asks in bewilderment if you’re Gojo’s fiancee. In fact, they ask if you’re really, actually the future wife of Gojo Satoru like he’s some mythical being and you’re a frumpy little worm. Fuck them. And fuck him. 

“Go away, Gojo,” you roll your eyes, typing as much of the lecturer’s notes as you can, a little distracted by the peering eyes around you and the ones running over your clothes . 

He sighs and lifts the lace from your dress, rounding the neckline. You feel it tickle your neck, and you fight the urge to shudder. In disgust. With a forced melodramatic tone, he complains, “I’m bored. Entertain me.”

“Are you fucking twelve? Go watch a movie like a normal person.”

“Movies are boring,” he retorts as if it’s fact. 

You roll your eyes. “And what? I’m so much more interesting?” 

What a stupid question. You really shouldn’t have asked that because the serious expression on his face as he lifts one shoulder in a lazy shrug makes you blush. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. 

“Did you meet Suguru on the course or was he your piercer first?”

Still typing, you throw him a side glance, feeling suspicious of the sudden change in conversation. But it’s welcomed. “We met on the course. First year. We were in the same class. He’s a good guy.”

Gojo huffs as if he didn’t like your answer. 

The piercer’s actually a decent person; he was friendly, smart, and kind. He made long, boring classes feel shorter with his interesting insights and opinions, and he had such a great way of expressing them — he was the most eloquent male you’ve ever met. However, there was always something off about him, like an inner turmoil that neither you nor he could ever quite understand. 

It was when he absentmindedly said he was thinking of dropping out that you felt you knew him a little better. You both shared a long talk at the back of the Life Sciences building where your little stroll took you, him smoking and you listening to his mutterings. He spoke of this feeling of being out of place, which you understood better than anyone else, and how the traditional path didn’t suit him. He disappeared for a while, a couple months, and you thought your response might have spooked him. After all, no one ever really comes to you for advice. But when he reached out to offer you a free piercing as his first ever client at his newly opened studio, you realised maybe you are capable of dropping an odd pearl here and there. 

“Well, Suguru’s my bestie, so back off,” Gojo pouts.

From your peripheral, you see him eye the big lecture hall and you don’t really know what he’s thinking. It’s an odd realisation to think that Geto, the guy you’ve always kind of admired, is actually friends with this loser – the suggestion that there’s a redeeming quality to the frat guy is one that doesn’t suit you. 

Most times he’s easy to read; he wants fun and excitement and thrill. He does whatever’s convenient or interesting, a totally impulsive guy. But there are rare moments, emphasis on rare, where you think there might be something more going on in that huge head of his. Maybe there’s something deeper to him. A maturity and wisdom he’s yet to show. 

“Fuck, marry or kill,” he lifts three fingers, “Marx, Satre or Aristotle.”

Yeah, unlikely. 

“Gojo, seriously, go away,” you sigh, exasperated. Just five minutes with the guy and you’re already drained. And somehow, you’re expected to live a lifetime with the weirdo?

Satan strike you down. 

“Me personally, Satre’s cute but something about big, bushy beards really gets me going. So, it’ll have to be: kill Aristotle, no offence dude, fuck Satre, and marry Marx.”

Two girls in the row in front of you giggle. Your lips turn down in repulsion. 

“I’m not sure Marx would like either of us, Gojo,” you give him a pointed look. 

He laughs. It’s loud and sudden and he has to say sorry to the entire lecture when it echoes around the hall. Some people laugh at him, or with him, and the lecturer can only shake his head and carry on. This lecturer is strict and merciless when it comes to interruptions, but of course he doesn’t say a thing against the interloper. How could he when there’s a huge placard over the double doors of this building titled ‘From the Loving Hearts of The Gojo Charitable Foundation’?

A couple minutes pass in relative silence, just the tapping of fingers against keyboards and the droning of the professor filling the space, and you think maybe he’s fallen asleep or maybe he’s so bored that he’s actually thinking of leaving. 

Of course, neither of those things happen because the universe hates you. 

Gojo pokes your side with a pen. You writhe with a blush. 

“Oh, ticklish, are we? Very interesting.” He wiggles his brows like an idiot, and you fight the urge to land a punch there. “Our wedding night’s gonna be fun.”

“We’re not going to have one if you had it your way, remember?”

Leaning back in his seat, he taps the pen —where the hell did even get that? He wasn’t carrying a bag— against his chin, considering his words carefully. He shrugs again. “Well, seeing as everyone’s so set on it, I’ve decided to, you could say, open myself to the idea.”

You try to quell the spark of hope there, that maybe your family could be saved, that you’ll be saved. It’s not wise to let that spark fester into something more. 

Gojo’s impulsive. Fact. 

Gojo’s a thrill-seeker. Fact. 

Gojo is an unserious guy set in his bachelor ways. He cannot be relied upon. He cannot be trusted to keep his word.

All facts. 

It’s easy for him to be able to have the option to be ‘open’ to an idea, whereas it’s thrusted upon you without much say. He can wake up and make decisions solely based on his urges, but you have to be mindful of the family’s reputation, your father’s bad habits, your mother’s social conservative ways, and the fact that this is all your fault. 

“Gojo,” you turn, fixing him with a solemn expression, “don’t do that. Don’t lead me on. I may not want to marry you, but I do want to marry. I must. It’s important to me, so please don’t wave it around like it’s some pretty flag.”

There must be something in your eyes, a graveness or a sombre quality that makes his smile disappear. His brows furrow like he’s trying to understand, trying to piece things together but you’re turning away before he could see. 

Clearing his throat, he pokes you again. “Alright. How about this?”

You throw him a doubtful look, worried about what dumbassery is going to leave his mouth. 

“Go on a date with me.”

“No.”

“Hey! You said that way too quickly.”

Resuming your typing, you’re already trying to drown him out, focused on the history of pragmatic ethics instead of his humoured tone. He’s suggesting something ridiculous again. As if you’d go on a date with him. Him. The guy who’s been getting in the way, the one who’s been making your life difficult and family dinners awkward, and the one you certainly cannot trust to not set up some trap to humiliate you like in the movies. 

“I’m being serious. Let’s go on a date.” Seeing you open your mouth to argue back, he hurriedly adds, “This isn’t fair on me either, y’know? I’m supposed to marry a stranger, one who wears all black and looks like she’d haunt me — not a bad thing, I’m actually kinda into it, question mark? — but my point is, we don’t really know each other. So why don’t we go on a date? It’s a pretty brilliant idea, if I do say so myself.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you mull it over. Sure, it makes sense, it would be good to get to know the freak you’re marrying or supposed to marry. This is how it should have been in the first place. Plus, your mother would certainly approve; she’d think this is a golden opportunity to secure him, to make him fall for you or whatever Mrs. Bennet thing she’s thinking of. 

However, as good as that idea is, you can’t just eagerly agree; there’s no guarantee this isn’t a trap. 

“You’re thinking this is a trap, aren’t you?” Your eyes meet his. He’s grinning ear to ear like he’s proud he guessed correctly. “Why don’t you plan the date, then? Set the time and place, that way there’s no way I could have rigged the environment with explosives or something.”

“No pig blood?”

Gojo smiles even brighter, and you have to squint to prevent losing your vision permanently. 

“No pig blood.”

[masochistkatsuki]

New year, New me !!

New years sex, lowk hate fucking ? they love each other don't worry ? toxic relationship probably but the blogs name is literally masochistkatsuki, small plot mainly smut, short fic, not proof read

You and Katsuki were both known for being hot headed and stubborn, for lack of a better word, cunts. Neither of you actually asked the other to date, but by the end of the year, everyone considered Class 1-As explosive enemies a couple. Besides, for people who apparently hated each other, you always found a way to constantly be together or talking, even if it was arguing.

On new years eve, the class decided to do their resolutions together. With the heater blasting, the third years of UA Academy sat around and talked respectively amongst themselves. However, from where you and Katsuki were yelling at eachother, you heard your name being mentioned.

"Yea .. both of their resolutions should be to act less angry."

"You know.." Izuku's freckles slightly moved from how his face muscles contorted. He was clearly trying to find the right way to word this.

He knew no matter what, someone was going to blow up at him, but he could hopefully make it so it didn't instantly kill him ! "You dont have to start acting all super nice.. but.. acting a little less mean couldn't hurt.."

Unfortunately for him, damage control wasn't an option, and he was sent back to his dorm shaking. You'd finally gotten into Katsuki's room, stretching out on his bed as if it were your own. "Tch."

Your eyes narrowed over at the blonde boy. His dark eyes matched your own intensity. Something about him was pissing you off. Maybe it was the scoff, or how his biceps seemed to struggle against the tight fabric of his shirt.

It was clearly not an unrequited feeling, his cheeks turning an embarrassing red. "Hah, why the fuck do you look like that, Katsuki ?"

His eyes squinted slightly, as if he was getting a better look at you. "Cut that shit out." His deeper voice echoed out, a tone of command lacing it.

With anyone else, they would have submitted, letting everything that was Dynamight take them where they laid. But you.. You made him so fucking mad. No matter what, you bit back, taunted him, teased, never let him.

"You know, I think maybe you should be less of a dick." You spat, looking up at him, fluttering your eyelashes in the way you knew drove him insane. Youd always been infatuated with how easily he ticked, and soon became obsessed with the feeling of pushing his buttons or getting under his skin.

He huffed, his chest puffing out infuriatingly boyishly. He was so dramatic. But thats what drove your pleasure, seeing him so worked up. "And what about you ? Huh ? Your a fuckin bitch."

You smiled, a look that Katsuki could only describe as 'Evil' in your eyes. "Fine. Ill work on it. " You absolutely werent. Someone who was trying to be nice, wouldnt torture him with the words "Why dont we let this anger out one last time ?"

★☆★☆

"I fucking hate you." He was panting almost pathetically, hot words rolling off his tongue and onto your neck. Matching bruises and marks of teeth spread across both of your necks. A competition of who could give the other the worst time covering it up.

"Yea, you're fuckin me like a softy." You grabbed at his hair, pulling his head up to give him a sloppy kiss. With teeth clashing, you fucked your hips into his faster. His hands tightened their grip on you, threatening to leave bruises.

"Don't fuckin move.. Hah.." He bit harshly into your neck, to the point you worried blood may spill. "I.." Despite how mean he was being on your neck, words failed to come out.

"This is how you should be fucking me, not whatever weak shit you were doing." You pulled his hair in response to his aggressiveness, reminding him you weren't letting up.

"You really are a bitch.." He reset his hands, getting a better grip at your hips before he slammed you down to his balls.

"Fuck.." You stuttered, pleasantly surprised by the feeling. He continued fucking you into him, his pace only getting faster, the sounds of skin slapping and an infamous wet movement.

"Dont fuckin know how ima put up with your ass for another year.. Probably just gonna get worse as they go by.." Despite the rude sentiment, the detail on spending more years together didnt go unoticed by you or your body.

"Don't get cocky, you know you'd be begging for me back if you decided you didn't want to handle this." You smirked, a knowing one hed seen all too many times.

"Wait.." His eyes widened, and he attempted to stop your movements, but in the heavy heat overwhelming and pleasuring his body, he was too slow to stop you.

You rolled your hips flush against his, circling them slowly in an O motion. "I hate you, Katsuki." You smiled softly, basking in how he bit his lip and growled at you to wait.

"Fuckin.. whore.. you know what that does to me" He cried out, usual bite becoming softer. His hips desperately fucked into yours, his cum spilling out in fast spurts.

With each thrust in and out, his cock came out covered in more release and slick each time. Your bruised hips and neck were the cherry on top, calling his attention, begging to be eaten. "Yea.. thats why I love doing it."

He sighed, and brought his hand up to cover his mouth. Only you would know, there was a stupid ass smile hiding under it. He thinks, maybe, if he could see this sight throughout the year, he'd be just a bit less harsh.

Team Player Part four is being written now !! Sorry for the Hiatus, work has been killing me. Ill be back regularly and responding to everyone soon, I just need some me time. Thank you everyone for the kind messages, I get nervous actually responding sometimes, but I am reading them and appreciating them greatly. 💗 Happy new years, everyone !

[snowballseal]

Insecurities - Rafayel

Summary: Here is the portion of Rafayel reacting to your insecurities. And you best know this man goes big to prove a point. Much fluff.

Here is the original with the other LADS boys

Word Count: 1831

Notes: Reader has insecurities about they way they look, so just keep in mind. It ends fluffy and happy though.

---

“Rafayel, do I look okay?”

The artist immediately drops whatever he was doing, twisting around to peer over the back of the couch as you step into the studio.

His iridescent eyes scan over your figure, his voice lilting with teasing affection, “I’m not sure I even want to go if this is what you’re wearing. I think everyone would think you’re the art and ignore my hard work.”

You wrinkle your nose. Partially because he’s being ridiculous. Partially because you don’t really believe him. The dress is gorgeous of course, he did a great job of helping you pick one out, but it doesn’t change the way you’ve been feeling for the past few days.

Before you met Rafayel, you never paid much attention to how you looked. Not in a bad way, you kept yourself neat and dressed up whenever you went out for special occasions, but it was never on your mind much. But now…You don’t know. It’s not Rafayel’s fault, the man has never been shy in complimenting you, but you can’t help but notice the type of women that like to approach him. All gorgeous enough to be models, with the confidence to match - seeing as they always have to gall to flirt with him even when you’re holding hands.

And you wish it didn’t get to you. It shouldn’t. Rafayel doesn’t even bat an eyelash at them, always focusing on you or making more obvious shows of affection to chase them away. Still, the more it happens, the more you find yourself caring about how you look, or not liking the way you look. 

And wearing a lovely dress only seems to highlight your self-perceived flaws.

“Do you really think it looks okay?” You ask again, fiddling with the satin self-consciously. 

Rafayel’s brow furrows a little. He tilts his head, looking almost like a confused puppy, “What is it? Do you not like the dress? Do you not want to go anymore? Please don’t make me go alone. These galleries are sooo boring without you, I hate them.”

“They’re your galleries,” you point out, shaking your head with a small smile, “How can you hate them so much? It’s your work, they deserve to be celebrated.”

“Why go stare at my own work when I can spend the night staring at you?”

Heat creeps up your cheeks. Usually you’d have a witty comeback to his flirting, but you can’t find anything tonight, not with how you’re feeling. So you just ruffle his hair fondly, avoiding the intense affection in his gaze.

“Come on, Thomas will be mad if we don’t show up. We need to go.”

Rafayel’s eyes narrow. Before you can pull away, he grabs your wrist, keeping you anchored to where you are. Your heart jumps to your throat at the serious expression he suddenly gives you.

“What’s wrong? You’re acting strange.” 

Being an artist, Rafayel knows you, your face, your body, better than anyone. He’s always looking at you, holding on to every new detail he finds. Like the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh. How the tip of your nose turns rosy when you’re even a little cold. Or how your lips twitch before you lie. Like they are now.

“I’m fine, Raffie, just…tired,” you sigh, tugging against his hold, still trying to avoid him, “Now come on, we should go.”

“Hmmmmm…no.”

You squeak as Rafayel unexpectedly gives your wrist a sharp pull. The momentum sends you tumbling over the back of the couch, right into his lap, and before you can escape, he has you wrapped in his arms. Stuck.

“Rafayel-! Let go of me,” you growl, squirming around hopelessly. The man is surprisingly strong, and with your feet still tossed over the back of the couch, you can’t get enough leverage to escape.

“Nope, not until you tell me what’s wrong,” he hums, arms tightening around your waist.

You huff and give him a solid glare, “This isn’t funny, Rafayel.”

“And neither is hiding something that’s obviously bothering you,” he snips back softly, “You’re a horrible liar, miss bodyguard.”

“I just…” You cross your arms, face feeling warmer and warmer the longer he stares at you. Why does he have to be so stubborn at times like this? “I haven’t been feeling good about myself lately, okay? That’s it, now can we go?”

“Nope.” You resist the urge to groan.

“Thomas is going to throw a fit-”

“He can handle it tonight, I’ll give him a bonus. What’s more important is fixing this.” Rafayel props his chin on your shoulder, a contemplative frown pulling at his lips. “It’ll have to be something creative, which I’m great at, of course. But what?”

“Rafayel, this really isn’t necessary,” you grumble, “I don’t think it’s something you can fix.”

The artist shakes his head, pressing a faint kiss to your shoulder, “I think you underestimate me, cutie. But that’s okay, I think I know exactly what to do.”

Lifting you up, Rafayel sets you back on the couch gingerly and darts off after giving you instructions to not move. A heavy sigh passes your lips as you fix your dress, though it seems a bit pointless now. It doesn’t sound like you’ll be going to the gallery.

A part of you is secretly relieved at that. You love looking at Rafayel’s work, but since it’s his gallery, all the attention would be on him, and, consequently, you as well. It’s a bit suffocating. Still, you’re a little wary of whatever plan he has concocted. Rafayel is as unpredictable as he is talented.

Time seems to tick by slowly as you sit on the couch. You eye the clock, noting each minute as it passes by. Your nerves only continue to rise the longer you’re alone. What on earth is he doing?

On the tenth minute, Rafayel reappears, a mischievous spark in his eyes. He offers you a hand.

“The gallery is ready for you to attend, cutie.”

This time, your eyes narrow, though you still take his hand, allowing him to help you up. “I thought you said we weren’t going?”

“Oh, this is a different kind of gallery,” he hums, looking quite proud of himself, “I think you’ll enjoy this one a lot more. And I’ll be your personal tour guide.”

“How kind,” you muse, fighting your own smile. You might as well humor him, even if it doesn’t help. As long as Rafayel is happy, you can count the night as some kind of success.

Rafayel leads you to one of the spare rooms of the studios. You vaguely remember him telling you at some point that it’s a room he likes to keep his sketchbooks and unfinished projects in. You cast him a curious glance, but his eyes are set ahead as he touches the door, that smile still painted across his lips.

“These works are some of the most important that I’ve ever done, and you’ll be the first to see them. My heart rests in your hands tonight, so be careful, otherwise you might mortally wound me and I’ll never have the courage to paint again.”

You roll your eyes at his antics, about to make a sassy remark, but the words get lost when he presses the door open. Your eyes go wide at the sight before you.

The room is lit by candles, flickering with the flames of his evol. Their light dances across countless artworks spread across the room, hanging on every surface, each one depicting the same subject.

You.

Most of them are sketches, their strokes simple and spontaneous but laden with care, like he had wanted to capture a precious moment for himself. There’s one of you dozing off on the couch, another of you dancing in the kitchen. There’s even one of you holding a stuffy, from one of your many trips to the arcade.

The further you walk into the room, the more detailed the pieces become. 

A charcoal drawing of you in your uniform, gun drawn on something off page. The lines of your body are like water, fluid and graceful, the look in your eyes somehow burning with a fierce determination.

An oil painting of the night you spent at the market. Your image is looking at a sparkler, the light reflected in your eyes like stars, your cheeks painted a soft rosy color that seems to glow. It’s impossibly delicate, each stroke placed with such intention, it’s almost like you’re there again.

The final painting you come to make your face go warm again. It’s of you, curled up under a familiar set of sheets, mostly focused on your face. Your hair pools against the pillow, messy yet somehow charming in its unruliness. The morning sunlight dapples across your skin, highlighting the soft color of your lips and the gentle curve of your smile. But it’s your eyes that really make your breath catch. You can practically see the sleepy fog in them, like you had just woken, but also the undeniable warmth. The love.

It’s…beautiful. They’re all beautiful. And they’re all you.

“This is…” You swallow around the lump in your throat, suddenly feeling off-kilter. “I can’t believe you did all of these.”

Rafayel, who had been following behind you silently, hums softly and curls his arms around your waist. You lean back into his touch, letting it ground you and your swirling emotions.

“It’s been difficult even focusing on my work for the gallery. Everything else seems to pale in comparison when I have such a beautiful muse in front of me all the time,” he murmurs the words against your temple, voice quiet to match the atmosphere of the room. “I could devote lifetimes to painting you and never grow tired of it.”

You bite back a bashful smile, unable to resist the urge to tease him a little, “I didn’t realize I was so distracting.”

“Just ask Thomas. I think this is the most he’s ever had to remind me to finish my work,” Rafayel chuckles, giving your waist a squeeze. “But it was worth the missed deadlines. Afterall, isn’t it my responsibility as your employer and lover to make sure you understand how much I cherish you?”

Your heart flutters wildly as the brazen affection in his tone. It seems to melt away your doubts, replacing them with an overwhelming feeling of fondness for your artist. Only Rafayel would do something like this for you, how could you deny it?

Turning around in his hold, you lean up on your tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek, which you notice is an absolutely rosy shade of red. It makes you feel even more fond. You really really love this man.

“Thank you, my pretty fish. I feel much better now.”

That dazzling smile lights up his face again, and he leans down to scatter kisses all over your face, whispering between your bouts of giggles, “Anything for you, my queen.”

---

All the smooches. I love this man. I will die on the hill of using the nickname "fish" or "fishie" with him, I think it's soooo cute.

[shinig6mis]

it had been a few seconds since bakugou had knocked on your door, but it felt like a lifetime. his mind raced in circles, not knowing whether his thoughts were rooted in paranoia or if there was some truth to them. why hadn't you texted him? it wasn’t like you two had a strict routine or anything, but after everything that had happened last night—how you two had stayed together, cuddling and falling asleep—he couldn't shake the feeling that something was different.

every other night, you've been in and out of his apartment, always leaving within ten minutes. but last night, it ended differently. he couldn’t explain it, but it felt right to be lying there with you, sharing your warmth, hearing the steady rhythm of your breathing as you fell asleep without you leaving right away after getting your quick fix. it didn’t matter if it was because you were too exhausted and sore, he loved the weight of you in his arms, the way you fit against him perfectly like you were meant to be there.

then, when he woke up, you were gone. no text. no call. no nothing. his heart squeezed painfully at the thought of it and he found himself racking his brain with the worst possible scenarios. maybe it had been too much. maybe crossing that boundary had been the mistake. maybe you’d seen the intimacy between you both as a sign that this arrangement had to end. maybe you regretted it, and that terrified him.

so here he was, standing at your door, hands tense by his sides, hoping he wasn’t about to hear something he wasn’t ready to face.

when you finally opened the door, the bags under your eyes looked slightly darker, your hair was pulled up in a messy bun, and you looked far too tired for someone who just woke up. the faint glow of a desk lamp illuminated your room. his eyes went to glance at the textbooks scattered on your desk and the laptop still open with whatever assignments you had yet to finish.

“bakugou?” you blinked in confusion. “what are you doing here?”

“i—uh…” bakugou started, caught off guard by the sight of you. you were wearing those loose pajamas that he secretly found adorable. “can i come in?”

you didn’t hesitate, stepping aside to let him into your room. the moment he entered, he made a beeline for your bed, sitting down, while you stood across from him, arms crossed in that way you always did.

his eyes stayed on you as he tried to gather his words. “you didn’t text after last night,” he finally blurted, his voice rough as always, but the worry in his tone was clear. he couldn’t stand it anymore.

you let out a soft sigh and explained, “i’ve been buried in assignments, bakugou. aizawa’s been on my ass, and i just haven’t had the time to check my phone.”

he exhaled deeply, the tension in his shoulders easing as you spoke. he’d convinced himself he’d lost you, but hearing that explanation made everything feel weirdly better. “so, no… nothing’s wrong?” he hated how nervous he sounded, but he couldn’t help it. this arrangement you both have meant more to him than he was willing to admit, and the thought of losing it scared the hell out of him.

you raised an eyebrow, taking a moment before saying, “we can talk about last night tomorrow if you want. for now… just stay. sleep over if you want. you can be annoying and overbearing in the morning.”

the relief that washed over him was almost overwhelming. he hadn’t realized how much the silence had been eating at him until now. you weren’t breaking things off. you were just distracted, which was probably what he should’ve assumed in the first place. but he couldn’t stop thinking that maybe he had crossed a line he wasn’t supposed to.

for the rest of the night, you sat at your desk, buried in your work, while he watched you, propped up on your bed with his arm supporting the back of his head.

it was quiet. only the sound of your focused typing and the occasional shuffle of papers filling the space between you two. he couldn't help but appreciate the view, watching you get lost in your assignments. despite how complicated this arrangement felt sometimes, he loved the fact that he was the only one who ever got to see you like this. no one else.

he stayed there, his mind quiet for the first time in hours, just taking in the sight of you. you were everything to him in that moment, even if you didn’t know it.

time passed, and eventually, you closed your laptop and crawled into bed. without saying anything, you curled up under the blanket, pulling it tightly around you. bakugou hesitated for a second before sliding in behind you, his arm instinctively wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer. he buried his face into the back of your neck, inhaling the scent of your shampoo, cherishing the softness of your skin.

he felt the tension leave his body as he held you, but his mind still wouldn’t let go. there was a an annoying part of him that wondered what you really thought of him. if you felt the same or if you didn’t. if this was all just temporary to you. but the other part of him that refused to let go of his pride was content just being here. being with you. even if nothing between you was official.

you shifted slightly in his arms, making him tighten his hold on you. it wasn’t perfect. it wasn’t what he had expected when he first got into this arrangement with you. but right now, with you in his arms, it was enough. and maybe, he could keep pretending that it always would be.

© 2025 shinig6mis | do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my work.

[anantaru]

DAY 30 — hate sex

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — wriothesley, ayato, scaramouche, alhaitham

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, hate fucking, mild choking, they're assholes, exhibitionism, fingering, lots of teasing & they're meanies

𖧡 — WRIOTHESLEY

"i don't, fuck— even know if i told you this," you whine out through a clenched jaw, your trembling frame luxuriating in the feeling of wriothesley's thick cock rubbing against your spongy spots as the spreading warmth of his body fuses inside of your own.

nevertheless, you continue your taunting— truthfully, there was nothing better other than uttering out words that you knew, would drive him absolutely crazy, "but i really fucking hate you."

amusement swiftly settles on the duke's face when he notices something happening in front of his eyes, in spite of himself, he can see it plain as day.

that your sweet, angel face, combined with those lewd sounds and your pain in the ass, as well as bratty attitude, would ultimately make him lose his mind beyond salivation— right now, his face reminded of someone who was on the brink of leaning into this, the thought of stepping your relationship up and breaking free of this, occasional hook up scene between two people clearly harboring distaste for each other.

yet, instead of melting into those hidden emotions, wriothesley then, leaves one hand to fall against the headboard before jerking his hips back into you, this time much harder and in attempt to conceal the fact that you've evidently turned him on with your attitude, fuck, he'd never get tired of hearing you.

"oh, don't worry sweetheart," wriothesley grins, your body trembling when you hear him, and as always, he senses how you shiver under his large weight, your chest rising and falling when he wraps one hand around your throat, lightly, while the other remained on the headboard to steady himself and to not suddenly suffocate you with his figure.

"the feeling is very mutual," he winks, the only thing that seemed appropriate to you personally in this situation, was to punch him, especially due to that stupid, handsome, dumb smirk on his face. (you didn't punch him)

"oh fuck you," you spat angrily before feeling how he softly draws his fingers into your throat, mesmerized when you swallow the assembled saliva down and make him sense your pulse underneath his palm, ugh, it's so hot— and you're impossibly sensitive, constantly fluttering your hole around his girth, always so cutely reactive and moaning when his cock twitches through your walls.

your mess of a body was shaking, quivering and jerking up when he teases you once more, proudly showcasing his strength on your throat while never stopping the aching drags of his erection that was making your face twist in pleasure.

𖧡 — AYATO

ayato thinks you owe him, in fact, he believes you owe him a lot more than you're currently giving him— aside from that, the most unfortunate fact was that he secretly liked having you close to him, pretending that it's a way of paying him back for whatever reason, more so share your sweet company and yes, of course, it's a bit of a predicament taking into consideration that he literally cannot stand your guts and neither can you force yourself to like his.

it's a bit embarrassing and you're barely being able to grasp on how much you you were capable to hate another person, yet the second you hear his voice, it's a horrible sound, one that you eagerly wanted to choke right out of him.

well, if only ayato wouldn't be so adapt with your body— remembering every part of you, didn't matter to him if it's been a week or a month, he remembers and targets the spots he knew had to be taken care of.

because the yashiro commissioner knows how to fuck you, please you and make you sob out uncontrollably— you have clearly had the opportunity to experience it yourself and even now, while pressed down against his work desk, with both legs tightly shut around his waist, you almost forget about all the deep-rooted hatred that was growing inside of your heart.

every dip and curve, his hand would find when he drags his cock through your walls with each whimper of his name littering across his ear shells, his sensitive tip repeatedly pushing in and out of your soaked walls that the constant pressure of penetration was making your head spin, your shaking frame twitching under him as he curves ever so wonderfully into your warm cunt.

it's too good, too delicious to pass up on when you forget all circumstances and focus on the hate induced thrusts of his pelvis rutting against yours— both minds being drunk of lust and that sensual taste of sex and euphoria lingering across the room, your pussy convulsing as his lips melt against your own, shushing all your worries.

𖧡 — SCARAMOUCHE

"look at that," scaramouche grinned down on you, excited from head to toe, his ego downright overflowing when his tip pushes and presses into your warm, pulsing spots as he stares down on where your bodies connected.

his cock was slipping in an embarrassingly easy pace that it's quite shameful now that you think back on it, well, almost— at least scaramouche knew what places to target in order to make your spine curve and quiver when he leans his weight over your body to split your cunt a little better as he bucks backward, driving the intruding force of his length deeper with one hand steady on your shoulder.

you wrap your hands around his neck and pull him into a warm, passionate kiss before he sloppily groans into your mouth, his tongue lapping across your own when repeated thrusts power through the tight ring of your hole, his pelvis continuously kicking against you and forcing your spine to bend into his chest, "hah, i can barely move," he smirks, "you're too tight— embarrassing," he drawls, your walls fluttering as he leans his sweaty forehead over your own.

"seems like you missed me," scaramouche urges, hovering on top of you with a toothy smile, despite that leaning in for more, his fastened breathing close to your flustered cheeks as he grinds his cock deeper, finer and better— a small, little shade of pink manifesting across his face, everything about it was so sensual, so exposed.

without a doubt, whenever you would cross paths it would always end in the same story playing on repeat, almost like a broken record— and despite the fact that you weren't fond of him, or, scrap that, despite the fact that you hated him, a lot, you did like it, like him, kind of— most definitely when he fucks you like he hates you, because he does, but kisses you like you're in possession of the most delicious and softest lips.

or, digging a little deeper, when he, sometimes, wraps his arm around your waist when he accidentally falls asleep right beside you, hiding his fatigued face against your neck, leaning into your touch as he intertwines one hand with yours to stroke his thumb over your knuckles.

𖧡 — ALHAITHAM

it's a hard punch in your gut when alhaitham first stated that he didn't like you, nope, wasn't a fan of yours at all— and the way he phrased it infuriated you the most, it was so arrogant, detached and almost like he wanted you to know and feel bad.

it's not like you were forcing him to like you or anything, but the fact that he thought it was appropriate to tell you out of the blue while disregarding any negative emotions such confession could cause— to say it made you loathe him, detest his being with every vein in your body, was an understatement, truly.

but now, suddenly it's anomalous, like the first bite out of a warm home-made pastry you have never tried before.

then, a sudden wave of pleasure hits you, strong enough that you whimper when he first places both hands on your figure, when you find yourself pressed against a cold wall, a new sensation that was laced in thrill and excitement lusting up from deep inside, aflame and alive through your flesh like liquid fire in your veins.

your bodies were moving while concealed beneath the darkness with the scribe's hand long since stored under your panties and rubbing slow, precise circles on your clit— and the thought of doing something so sinful in the midst of the night, not to mention outside, was almost enough to turn you on entirely, drench his palm with your slick when the boiling heat inside of you changes its shape, manifesting into something exceptional.

"that— that doesn't change anything!" you argue, scowling as you lean your head against his chest, "you're still a snob."

"huh, what?" alhaitham huffs in between a relatively normal breathing, as if he didn't just fuck two fingers into your hole and was the single reason for your legs turning to jelly, wantonly destroying your stability, "i think you don't know what that word means," he mutters before rolling his eyes at you.

archons, you're so annoying, alhaitham could honestly tell you those exact words over and over again until he'd get a headache— and it fucks him up, you do, you never fail to irritate him but also make him intrigued. ugh, it fucks him up so dearly and you destroy his rational thoughts, he wanted to do nothing more other than distance himself from you if only you wouldn't be so damn addicting, and soft, or reactive when he prods one finger against your hole.

awakening at the touch, your desire for him flares anew as you buck your hips forward, driving his finger deeper, his digit spilling right into you when you greet him with a broken cry, your hips rolling and needful for more— alhaitham's eyes never averting their gaze from you, your hips searching and clinging on his body, a slight tremble reaching your spine when you hold your gaze on him, all now feeling in different way.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[f1goat]

not a chance + lando norris (one shot)

In which Lando thinks he's going to win a race, to which you tell him the chances of you two fucking are as low as him winning a race - so what happens when he wins?

lando norris x fem!sainz reader tw: smut + not proof read (as usual)

masterlist - playlist

“I think this is going to be my day,” Lando tells your brother, Carlos, with a confident tone in his voice. “Maybe I’ll actually win today.”

You can’t help yourself and let out a soft laugh. “As if,” you mutter softly. You don’t expect anyone to pay attention to you, let alone hear your comment, but while looking at Lando you’re quick to realize that he did hear you. He is sending you an annoyed glare, while Carlos tries to tell you without words that you should shut up. Bit too late for that now. 

“Don’t believe me babygirl?” Lando asks you. The earlier confidence in his voice has disappeared and made place for a sarcastic tone, one Lando only uses with you. “Nope,” you say, making sure that you’re popping the p. 

“I’m not doing this again,” Carlos sighs while looking at his little sister and one of his best friends. Lando and you both know what he’s talking about, but neither of you is backing away. Lando is even getting closer towards you. “I’ll see you later,” Carlos continues, “hopefully after the two of you finally fixed the fucking sexual tension between you two.” 

It’s not a secret that Lando and you don’t like each other. You don’t know how it happened, where you were once almost as close with him as Carlos, things changed between you two. Friendly conversations changed into sarcastic, mean remarks meant to hurt to other one. Meeting up when Carlos couldn’t join changed into only seeing each other when Carlos dragged the both of you in the same place. Always texting with each other, sending memes towards each other eventually changed into ignoring each other on every social platform. 

Whatever happened to cause the change between Lando and you, has never been clear to you. Sometimes you blame yourself for taking a bit more distance when Lando got his first girlfriend, but eventually it was Lando who really changed his attitude towards you. Sometimes you miss how it was before, or better said every time you see Lando you miss how it was before. Even if you were fighting your feelings for him, it was better then acting like you hate him. Of course you don’t hate Lando, how could you - especially after crushing on him for the longest time. 

Your phone vibrates in your hand, you look at the text that’s coming in. It’s from Carlos. When you’re done toying with Lando, I’m at Ferrari. Saved you a seat. You should go to him now, that would be the smart thing to do. But Lando is still standing closely in front of you. Carlos believes that something else is going on between Lando and you, something that’s according to him caused by romantic feelings, but according to you that’s bullshit. Your crush on Lando doesn’t exist anymore, right? 

“Funny to see the girl who believed in you the most turn into one of your biggest haters,” Lando mutters annoyed. He truly feels betrayed by the way you’re talking about him and the upcoming race. He means his earlier words. Sometimes he wonders how things would be between you two if he did some things different. A lot changed when he was dating his ex girlfriend, changes he can’t undo but he wants to fix them. If you’ll let him.

“Not a hater,” you reply, “just a realist.” 

“Just watch me babygirl,” Lando says, “I’ll show you.”

“No thanks.”

“And after the podium I’ll find you and show you what else I can do,” Lando continues. He almost sounds dangerous. It causes you to feel flustered. What is he talking about? 

“The chances of you’re winning the race are as low as the chances of us going to fuck,” you tell him as if it’s a fact, while in reality you’re not so sure about yourself. 

“Seems like a good celebration, I’ll find you after the race,” Lando says, he has found his confidence back. 

“You’re crazy,” you sigh, “I’m not listening to this any longer.”

“See you after the race babygirl,” Lando says when you walk away from him.

“You won’t.” 

+++

Fuck. Did this actually happen? You don’t know whether to laugh or to cry when you’re looking at Lando who’s screaming from happiness while getting out of his car. How did he actually win todays race? What does this mean? What is going to happen now? Is Lando expecting that you’ll have sex with him now? Fuck. 

You see the way your brother is hugging with Lando, how happy he is for his friend. It makes you think about how you felt before. Every time Lando stood on the podium you’d beam with pride, you love(d) seeing him on the podium. It was you who always told Lando that he would be standing on the top step soon and that you’d be there to celebrate with him. How things changed. 

While looking at Lando who’s still celebrating with his team, you think back about the day things really went wrong between Lando and you. It has been months before it all crashed down, months filled up with weird tension and uncomfortable moments. Which all started when Lando got a girlfriend. You can’t blame him for that, you still don’t, but you just didn’t like her. Maybe it was because of your crush on Lando, maybe it was because his girlfriend sensed something and made sure that Lando and you couldn’t spend any time together anymore. 

“You don’t get it Lando,” you tell him, “I never get to see you anymore, you’re always busy and don’t make time for me anymore. What changed? Are you bored of me? Am I not fun enough to be your friend anymore?” 

“No, that’s not it,” Lando quickly says, “I just don’t have the time anymore.”

“You seem to have time for everyone expect for me,” you bitterly state, “I’m not stupid, I see how you’re traveling all around the world to meet up with every friend you have.”

“It’s different,” Lando defends himself. 

“Just tell me what I did wrong,” you sigh, “since you’re in a relationship everything changed between us.” 

Lando knew at that moment that he should tell you the truth. How he only agreed to his relationship so he could forget about his feelings for you, but he doesn’t dare to say so. And now he’s in a relationship with a weird influencer who seems to hate you and who doesn’t ‘allow’ him to see you anymore. He really should break up with her, but what will happen then?

“It’s just that she doesn’t like you,” Lando eventually tells you, “and as her boyfriend I need to chose her side, I guess?”

“So that’s it? Your girlfriend, from two months, doesn’t like me so you just decided to stop spending time with me, your friend from multiple years?” You ask confused. This time you don’t wait for Lando to continue. “That’s just, fuck, I don’t know what to say to that. Good to know my worth,” you continue sadly. 

After his confession which still wasn’t the whole story, Lando didn’t know what to say anymore. He watched how you left, but didn’t follow you to make things right. Maybe it’s for the better for now. There’s nothing he can do for now. He has a girlfriend, he needs to forget about his feelings for you and move on. 

Two hours later he broke up with his girlfriend, but then he was already blocked by you. 

After Lando celebrated with his team, almost all the other drivers and everyone else who congratulated him, you’re waiting for him to get on the podium. You feel weird while watching Lando on the podium. There’s a part of you who’s incredibly proud of him, a part that wants nothing more then to run over to Lando and hug him and tell him how proud you are of him. The other side of you is only thinking about what will happen next. 

When Lando is standing on the podium, you can’t stop thinking about how hot he looks. When Carlos finds his place next to you and watches Lando with you, he notices the way you keep looking at his best friend. “I really wouldn’t be mad if there would happen something between Lando and you,” Carlos tells you for the millionth time. “You’re crazy,” you reply annoyed. 

What Carlos and you both don’t notice is the way Lando is looking for you from the podium. When you look up again, you lock eyes with Lando. He sends you a wink. Fuck. 

After the podium you walk away together with Carlos, you want nothing more then get back to the hotel and sleep. This day was confusing and long, you can’t wait for it to end. Lando notices you walking away, without thinking about it he walks away from the press and starts to get towards you. He hurries and almost runs towards you. When he finally reaches you, he grabs your arm. 

“What the fuck,” you mutter when you feel someone grabbing your arm. Surprised you stop walking and look behind you. You don’t even know if you are surprised or not when you notice that it’s Lando. 

“You’re coming with me,” Lando tells you with a stern voice. Carlos looks confused at the two of you. You can only sigh. What are you going to say to this? You really don’t know. Slowly you nod at Lando, confusing your brother only more. Lando is quick to say a goodbye to Carlos and starts to walk off with you. 

+++

Lando dropped you in his drivers room. He still has media duties, but he wanted to make sure that you didn’t leave in the mean time. While giving interviews and talking with everyone, his mind is focused on you. He can only hope that you’re still waiting for him. 

In the mean time you keep thinking about what to do. You’re stressed out because of everything that’s happening. What will happen when Lando comes back from his interviews? Are the two of you going to talk things out and finally make it right? Or are you going to fight? Or is Lando actually for real and does he wants to fuck you? 

Eventually the stress makes you crazy. You decide to call your brother. Who knows for how long Lando is busy, you really need to talk with someone about this and who’s better then one of Lando his best friends? You know that your brother knows about your earlier feelings for Lando, so you can only hope that he will help you now. What if your feelings return? Or better said, what if you finally realize that they have never left?

“Carlos you really need to help me,” you start to speak when Carlos picks up.

“No, no, you need to tell me what’s going on between Lando and you! He left an interview to pick you up and now he’s doing interviews again? Where are you?” Carlos reacts.

“I’m in his drivers room,” you confess, “but I don’t know what will happen between us.” After that you explain to your brother what happened earlier today when he left Lando and you alone. Carlos chuckles when you tell him about Lando his bold replies. 

“What do you want to happen?” Carlos asks you eventually.

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. 

“You do know,” Carlos replies, “you’re just not honest to yourself. But we both know that you’re still in love with Lando.”

Before you can react to those words, Lando is entering his drivers room. You can only pray that he didn’t hear anything from what Carlos just said. “Lando’s here,” you tell Carlos on the phone, “I’ll talk to you later.” Before hanging up you hear Carlos say something childish in the lines of ‘doing it safe’. As if Lando wants something like that to happen you think annoyed.

“What am I doing here Lando?” You ask. 

“I’m getting my reward,” Lando tells you with a small smirk on his face. 

“Your reward?” You ask confused. 

“The chances of you winning the race are as low as the chances of us having sex,” Lando speaks up, “Remember those words babygirl?” 

“What do you want Lando?” You ask him. 

“You.”

Lando his answer makes you shiver. His following movements make it only worse. Without giving it a second thought, Lando pulls you into himself. His finger is under your chin, softly lifting it up for himself. He looks you into your eyes, searching for some sort of approval before he continues with his movements. When you show him a quick nod, he’s sure about it. Lando presses his lips against yours. 

Fuck, you can’t remember the last time a kiss felt so good. Now that you think of it, a kiss probably never felt this good before. It feels like everything is finally falling into it’s place. Lando pulls you as close into himself as he can manage. Your lips don’t leave his. When you feel Lando his hands on your body, a soft moan leaves your lips. Lando feels it vibrate against his own. Slowly he pulls back from you. 

“Lan,” you softly whimper when he doesn’t stop looking at you. 

“What is it babygirl?” He asks you. It’s the first time in a year that the nickname feels sweet instead of sarcastic. 

“Do something please,” you beg. 

Lando is quick to respond to your pleas. His hands find your body. Slowly he explores your curves while he presses some soft kisses on your neck, shoulders and face in the mean time. When Lando his hands are getting lower, you’re quick to lift up your skirt for him. Lando smirks when he notices it. 

“What do you want me to do?” Lando asks you. 

“If you can win,” you softly say, “then you also can fuck me I guess.”

This time Lando doesn’t hide his excitement anymore. He shows you an enthusiastic grin and moves away from you. Before you can complain, he’s already sitting in front of you. He takes off your skirt and starts to trace figures onto your still clothed cunt. He feels how your string is already damp. 

“You guess?” Lando asks you. 

“Don’t tease,” you tell him, “just fuck me already.”

Lando removes your string from your body. He moves his head closely to your cunt and presses a soft kiss against your clit. He’s in conflict with himself, he wants to take his time with you and show you exactly what he has to offer but he also just wants to fuck you right now until the both of you are lost for words. 

“Lan,” you whimper.

“Can’t I take my time with you babygirl?” Lando asks you teasingly. In the mean time he pulls down his race suit and boxers. 

“Next time,” you reply.

It makes Lando’s heart miss a beat. You’re thinking about a next time? His smile gets bigger again. He pulls you closer to him and aligns his dick with your entrance. You grab his hair in the mean time and try to get Lando closer towards yourself so you can kiss him again. When Lando lets his dick enter your body, it causes you to let out a loud moan. 

“Fuck,” Lando groans, “waited fucking four years to feel this.”

You barely hear him. Lando his words surprise you. Four years ago the two of you just met. At that time Carlos just got Lando as his new teammate. What does Lando mean with this. Before you can make things more clear for yourself, Lando continues to speak.

“Always wanted to fuck you,” Lando grunts, “Always thought about fucking you.”

Does this mean what you think it means? 

“What about..” You start to ask. “Don’t say her name,” Lando is quick to interrupt you. How does he already know that you’re talking about his ex? “Only got with her so I could forget you,” he confesses. 

“Fuck,” you moan, you don’t know but after Lando his sudden confession the sex feels even ten times better then before. “Always wanted you to fuck me as well,” you confess. 

That makes Lando slow down. 

“Waited four years for you,” you continue to confess.

This time Lando stops moving inside of you. 

“Are you serious babygirl?” Lando asks confused. 

“Yes,” you softly tell Lando, “I’ve had a crush on you for the longest time.”

Lando grins, “That’s good,” he says, “Really good.” He picks up his earlier pace and continues to fuck you. When the both of you reached your high, Lando carefully pulls back. He pulls you onto himself. Holding you as close towards himself as he can. 

“Four years right?” You ask Lando. 

“Four years,” he replies with a nod. 

The both of you let out a soft laugh. Suddenly nobody cares about what happened between you two in the last year. Sure, you will talk about it some time. But not now. Lando presses a kiss against your cheek. 

“Did you really think I couldn’t get a win today?” Lando suddenly asks you. 

“Lan,” you softly say, “I always believed you could get a win everywhere.” 

“That’s a girlfriend thing to say,” Lando jokes, “Are you my girlfriend now?”

“Do you want me to be?” 

“There’s nothing more I want to,” Lando confesses.

“Then I guess I’m your girlfriend,” you laugh. Lando kisses you again. 

“Let’s grab dinner with your brother,” Lando suggests, “and after that I want you in my hotel room so I can take my time with you.” 

“Deal.”

y/n: want to get dinner with me and my boyfriend?

y/n: he’s a race winner ;)

carlos: finally

[changetyre]

Thank you for all of the stories recently! Can you do one where Lando gets tired of you calling him “Little Lando Norris” and decides to show you how big he really is?

L.L.N II Lando Norris ⒽⓌ

SUMMARY: Lando doesn't mind you making fun and playing games just as long as you're aware of the truth...and he'll be more than happy to remind you.

WARNINGS: **18+**

A/N: Got some good news so felt inspired to write again ;) Sorry for the delay.

"Aww poor little Lando." You jokingly patted him on the back. "Better luck next time buddy." you laughed as you walked away leaving him fuming.

Once again you'd beat Lando for 3rd place by merely a few seconds, an ongoing rivalry between you both that had everyone at the edge of their seats.

Ever since karting you and Lando had this heated rivalry, always making the other's life impossible and being each other's biggest competition so it was no surprise when it continued onto Formula 1.

To the outside world, it was incredibly entertaining for everyone to see the rivalry between the two of you. The rude remarks and snarky comments you threw at each other during interviews, the hate between you two only brewing stronger with each race.

But little did people know the way you were able to keep the hate at bay and keep yourselves in check. It had all started as a stupid drunk mistake when you found yourselves fucking in a club bathroom. The memory was hazy but you both remembered enough to know that deep down you liked it.

The next time it was a simple rash decision, you didn't think about it when you found yourself waking up in Lando Norris's room naked his arm across your waist, quickly throwing it off before running back to your room.

It was good. The sex was good, and that was the only reason you kept coming back. That's what you both told each other.

But it had become a frequent occurrence now, almost 5 months of quick and meaningless fucks where you could let out the pent-up tension and anger you had for each other.

But this still didn't take away from the fact that you still loved to piss each other off on track. Secretly you'd grown to love doing it more because you felt the direct consequence of it later.

"Lando, how do you feel about yet another close battle today with your biggest rival on track?" The interviewer asked him.

"Yeah, she just got lucky getting the better line around the next corners, but she knows I'm not one to back down, she knows what's coming for her," Lando smirked loving the double meaning behind his words.

He could see you a few feet from him giving your own interview. He just about heard you when once again you'd referred to him as Little Lando Norris, something you'd taken to recently which just irked him a little more than usual.

He watched you carefully, keeping his eyes on you like a hawke which to everyone else looked like pure hatred but truly it was simply because Lando could see the way Pierre got a little too friendly with you for his liking.

Lando would never admit it to you but he truly couldn't control the jealousy that erupted in his stomach whenever he saw you get too friendly with anyone. Whatever you had might have been meaningless but as far as he was concerned you were still his for now.

"Alright thanks, Lando enjoy your break." Lawrence finalized the interview with Lando outside the McLaren hospitality just as he could see you walking out of the press conference room with Pierre quickly by your side.

He didn't hesitate as he stood up with a quick step towards you. His blood boiling when he heard you laugh at something Pierre said.

"I need to talk to you." Lando stood in front of you making you stop abruptly and bump into his chest.

"Oh look hey speaking of the devil." You smirked.

"Little Lando Norris." Pierre joked but for some reason, Lando didn't find it the least bit amusing coming from him.

"Okay well can't talk now so bye." You were about to move past him but Lando grabbed your arm.

"Wasn't asking." Lando was ready to pull you away with him but was stopped by Pierre who grabbed your other hand.

"I actually just asked her for a drink so-" Pierre was quick to tell Lando.

"So she can't right now." Lando didn't let him finish or you protest before whisking you away.

You were completely taken aback as Lando shamelessly dragged you away from Pierre not caring the way there were several eyes on you as he took you towards the McLaren building.

Your heart pounded in your chest rendering you speechless as he walked you all the way into the building past several staff members before reaching his room where he was quick to shut you both inside.

"Lando what the-" you finally regained your voice as the door closed behind you.

"Shut up." Lando pressed his lip to yours as he pressed you to the wall. You had to push through the rush that invaded your body trying not to give in so easily.

"Lando, what has gotten into you?" You asked breathlessly as Lando began kissing down your neck unbuttoning your jeans and dragging them down

"So it's just Lando now?" was all he said.

"What are you- ah fuck." before you could reply again you cut yourself off when Lando began ruthlessly attacking your clit.

Lando basked in the pleasure he could produce on you loving the way you became putty in his hands behind closed doors despite the way you loved to tease him and take control outside.

Lando's pants suddenly felt painfully tight as he continued his attack on you taking the liberty he unbuckled his pants all while still tasting you before pulling his dick out into his hands to give it a few pumps.

Lando didn't stop, not until you had your first orgasm before finally getting up. "Why don't you return the favor baby?" Lando asked despite knowing he didn't have to since you were on your knees before he could even finish asking.

You prepared yourself knowing the ache you would feel from sucking him off having to open wide to take him into your mouth. Lando's eyes showed the smugness in them at watching the way you always struggled initially to take him never able to take him all down until you'd sucked him off for a while.

Lando groaned as you began moving your head up and down, your hands taking care of what you couldn't fit in your mouth for now.

"Nothing so little about that is there?" Lando asked the pride clear in his voice.

Only now did you understand what this was all about but you didn't care to complain since he'd gotten you all worked up.

"Why don't you make it extremely clear for me." You decided to try to have your own way.

"Gadly baby." Lando pulled you up before picking you up and using the wall to support you in his arms before using one of his hands to line himself up against your whole.

"Please-" You pleaded, Lando loved the way you begged every time he got near you like these.

"you ready?" he asked despite feeling your wetness already drip onto him.

"Yes, please fuck me." You sighed as you grabbed Lando's face to kiss him.

Lando used this distraction to push himself all the way inside you swallowing your yelp. "Shit baby you're so wet," Lando whispered knowing he had to keep semi-quiet because of the remaining staff in the building right now. Although half of him hoped everyone could hear what you were doing and the way he was making you feel right now...make it crystal clear to everyone.

"Ah, fuck Lando go faster." You begged him as Lando pushed in and out of you fully and completely at a brutally slow pace.

"Who's making you feel like this baby?" Lando asked not answering to your pleas just yet.

"You Lan...You are." You could almost cry at the torturous pace he'd set.

"not even fucking Pierre can make you feel like this can he?" His words were laced with disgust and anger which made your stomach flutter.

"No...no just you." You replied kissing Lando once again.

This was enough for Lando as he picked up his pace feeling the way you clenched around him and the way you struggled to keep quiet.

"Fu...so good...shit" You moaned in a whisper as Lando kept thrusting faster and faster into you against the wall.

Lando could cum at the sight of you, watching the way your tits would bounce with each thrust, the way your eyes rolled back, and hearing your uneven breaths as you tried to keep quiet while your orgasm quickly approached, feeling the way you held onto him as if your own skin was begging for more. This was it. This was glory to Lando.