#i fucking hate always being the one who has it worse than others

[eggyrocks]

DRUNK WALK HOME

chapter eight: mistakes

masterlist

“and i was so young when i behaved twenty-five / yet now i find i’ve grown into a tall child” -fist love/late spring by mitski

It’s Wednesday, and Akaashi is reading her essay. 

It’s clear that she actually tried this time, his pen marking up less of it than he normally would. He can tell she’s out of practice, some sentences rusty and awkward, blunt transitions and thoughts that trail off. But he can see her ideas better than before, more fleshed-out, more consistent. 

He keeps looking up at her, stealing a glance between every other sentence or so. She’s slumped in her chair, arms crossed over her chest and staring off ahead, frowning. Akaashi can’t stop himself from thinking about how much she looks like her mother. She doesn’t look back at him. 

“This essay’s a lot better than your last,” Akaashi mumbles, almost like he doesn’t want her to hear him. It makes him blush to say it, and he’s grateful she refuses to look at him. “Looks like you actually tried this time.” 

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t react at all. She just sits there, with her jaw locked and her arms crossed, and does her best to pretend that Akaashi isn’t there. 

He feels guilty. It gnaws away at him, and he has this impulse to apologize, which disgusts him. He doesn’t like that he’s wronged her, and now his sense of moral superiority has slipped. He doesn’t like that he wants to fix the damage he caused. 

He looks up at her again, and sees no change in her posture, in her demeanor. He bounces his knee, and he can’t bring himself to look back down at her essay. Akaashi studies her, for a moment, the lines of her face, her narrowed eyes, the slow, deliberate breaths she takes. 

She doesn’t notice him staring. Or, maybe she does, but is so committed to ignoring him that she chooses not to comment on it. He wants her to. He wants her to snap at him, call him a freak for staring, accuse him of being obsessed, insult him, belittle him, something. 

But she just stares straight on, and Akaashi can feel himself starting to get desperate. 

“How’d your visit with your mom go?” he asks, hoping to provoke her to respond, hoping she’ll say something vile to assuage his guilt. 

“There’s only one more page left in the essay,” is the only response she gives him, though, and Akaashi is stuck. 

He turns his attention back over to her essay, and rushes through the end of it. Akaashi rushes through correcting a run-on sentence or two and then slides the essay back over to her. “There, now you can-” 

She slams her hand down on top of the stack of papers and snatches it away, standing at once. “Great, see you Friday,” she says, ready to leave. 

“Wait,” Akaashi says, standing, “listen, I’m so-”

“I said I’ll see you Friday,” she interjects harshly, finally turning to face Akaashi. He notices the tears that build in her eyes then. He can’t tell if they’re from sadness or anger. 

He’d never seen her cry before. There was a time when he didn’t think she was capable of it. Something in him softens, then, and he thinks that the damage he’s done is the kind that he wouldn’t be able to fix. 

She turns on her heel and leaves, leaving Akaashi to stand there, at their table in the library. 

It seems futile, then, to hate her. To hate someone so hated by their mother. To hate someone who so clearly hates herself. He hopes the feeling passes.

extras->

is akaashi genuinely remorseful for what he did? yes

is he mostly just trying to appease his guilt so he can go back to just plain hating yn? also yes

he sort of knew immediately that he fucked up; he picked up on the dynamics of yn and her mother before he even realized it was her mother

he was feeling defensive when kaori messaged him but it's been eating away at him since then

been quiet on the bokuto front

yn's roommates banded together when they realized her mom was coming to visit bc yn is always a complete mess afterwards and going out and drinking always makes it worse

once yn realized though she figured kaori and yukie were probably in on it and went straight to kuroo

kuroo always has a good time when he goes out with yn so he's always down

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[shanastoryteller]

They destroy a hundred seals in thirty days, which feels like good progress until Sam realizes even if they can keep up this pace, it’s going to take them nearly two years. “There has to be a faster way to do this.”

“It took three hundred thousand years to set the apocalypse in motion,” Castiel says dryly. “Patience is a virtue.”

“It took a year from first seal to last, don’t exaggerate,” he says, pacing the length of the motel room. Cas may not need things like food and sleep, but Sam is still human at the end of the day.

He’s refusing to touch the virtue bit. No one’s keeping track of those and they both know it.

Cas gives him a bitchy look that Sam tells himself he’s not growing fond of. “Yes. Sixty six seals took a year to open. We’ve destroyed nearly twice that in a month. You are not being reasonable about this.”

Maybe not, but they don’t have time to be. Can’t Cas feel it? Like something’s bearing down on them, hot breath on the back of their necks. If there’s one constant in Sam’s life, it’s that he never gets enough time. He doesn’t see why this should be any different. “What if we killed Lilith? She’s the last one, right? As long as the first seal hasn’t been opened, killing her destroys the seal. If the last one can’t be opened, Lucifer can’t be set free. Right?”

Cas tilts his head to the side. Sam kind of hates how quickly he’s picked that up this time around, but he’s only realizing now that it’s a gesture Cas learned from him, not Dean, and the first go around they hadn’t exactly spent a lot of time together in the beginning. “Likely correct. But even if we could find her, I’m unsure of your capabilities.”

“Fuck you too,” he says without heat. “I killed Azazel. I killed her before. I can do it again.”

“She wanted to be killed, last time,” Cas says. “She knew her death would grant Lucifer’s freedom and she did not fight you with all her strength. Killing Azazel is not killing Lilith. They are different beasts.”

“Wait,” he says, “are you telling me that Lilith is stronger than Azazel?”

Having killed them both, that’s really not what he would have guessed. Which means that Cas is probably right. Damn.

“What is stronger, blood or bone?” he asks. “She is Lucifer’s firstborn. There is power there.”

Great. “I’m more powerful this time,” he points out. Azazel’s blood – Lucifer’s blood – is still buzzing under his skin, not quite as hot and pounding as it was at first swallow, but not fading and sputtering out like Ruby’s blood always had. Something in between, maybe, except those first few drops of blood as a baby hadn’t had any immediate affects either. It’s probably a good thing he won’t live another twenty two years. Who knows what Lucifer’s blood will have done to him by then.

“Yes,” Cas says. “I just don’t know if you’re powerful enough.”

And if he’s not, Lilith won’t even kill him. He needs to be alive for Lucifer to wear, after all. No, whatever she does to him will be much worse.

Sam.

He turns, even though he knows they’re alone. But his name had been so clear.

Sam, please!

He looks around uneasily. “Do you hear that?”

Cas blinks. “No.”

“Seriously?” he demands.

Sam, please, please, I’ll do anything, I’ll give anything, please help me. Help her. Sam –

He moves, not entirely sure what he’s doing, shifting from one place to the other, not entirely sure where he’s going until he arrives.

He’s standing in an empty apartment building, a ghost howling in front of him that looks sort of familiar. What the hell?

“Sam!”

Taking his eyes off the ghost is probably stupid, but he looks behind him anyway and finds Ellen on her knees, tears streaming down her face. Jo is clutched in her arms, skin pale and eyes open and unseeing, bits of plaster in her hair and a gaping hole in the wall behind them.

“Holmes?” he asked incredulously, turning back to the ghost who’s getting steadily closer. Last time they trapped him in the basement and cemented him inside. Last time Sam hadn’t spent years researching how to banish the worst sorts of evil.

The incantation rolls off his tongue easily, half Latin and half something older than that, and Holmes screams as he burns up in whisps of smoke.

“Sam, please,” Ellen begs. “Please. You have to help her.”

How does Ellen even know him? They’ve never met before. Not here. He kneels across from her, heart clenching at Jo’s body. He’s supposed to be making things better, leaving and destroying the seals is supposed to fix things. Except he guesses he and Dean weren’t here to find Jo this time and Ellen got there too late. “She’s dead, Ellen.”

“So?” she asks fiercely. “Jim was dead. Caleb, that girl, Meg. They were all dead. You brought them back.”

He stares. “How do you know that?”

“Please,” she repeats. “She’s all I have left. Please, Sam. I’ll do anything. I’ll give anything. Just bring her back.”

Sam knows that desperation. He’s felt that desperation, those miserable four months when hell tore his brother apart.

But he doesn’t have the same overfull, burning power he had with the taste of Azazel’s blood in the back of his throat.

Ellen, proud, tough Ellen, has tears down her face and begging him.

She lost her husband because of his father. He can try and save her daughter.

He reaches out, gripping the back of Ellen’s neck, and pulls her towards him. She opens his mouth for him, kissing him back without hesitation. He bites her tongue, blood hot and salty, and she doesn’t so much as flinch, doesn’t pause, just holds Jo between them and lets Sam take.

When he pulls back, his mouth is full of blood. He leans down, pressing his lips to Jo’s, letting her mother’s blood slide between her lips and presses his hand against her chest, trying to quicken something in her that will bring her home.

She gasps under him and he pulls back. Her eyes dart around, cheeks flushed, and stutters, “What – who–”

Ellen lets out a sob and clutches Jo to her, letting out a choked litany of scolding that has Jo patting her back and making soothing noises that Sam doubts Ellen hears at all.

He sits back on his ass, rubbing a hand over his face and wondering if anyone will care if he just lays down and takes a nap. Resurrection is exhausting.

“How?” Ellen asks, looking at him with red eyes and a puffy face and so much gratitude he can barely stand it. “There’s nothing special about my blood.”

“There’s power in sacrifice,” he says, wincing at the roughness of his voice. “Not a lot. Not enough. But,” he shrugs. He’s spent a lifetime making something out of not enough.

“What did I sacrifice?” she asks. It’s curiosity, nothing more. He can tell that she doesn’t care about the answer, that it really good be anything ant it would still be a bargain well made as far as she’s concerned.

This is how apocalypses are started.

“Nothing I’m going to collect on,” he says tiredly. “But it’s not a trick that works more than once. So be careful, okay?”

That last bit he directs to Jo, who’s just staring at him with huge eyes. “You’re Sam?”

“Yeah,” he says. “How do you know who I am?”

Jo and Ellen share a look, then she says carefully, “I met your brother.”

“How is he?” he asks, almost before she’s finished speaking. “Is he – I mean,” he cuts himself off, grimacing. Sam made out with their possessed father, killed the demon, and left. It’s a real toss up about what messed him up the most. “You shouldn’t hunt on your own,” he says, switching tracks. “You need a partner, one who can show you the ropes if you’re going to keep this up. See if you can talk Dean into it. I think you two will get along.”

Jo swallows. “Uh, okay. You’re not what I expected.”

What had she expected? He’s sure the rumors about him are nothing good, if not outright setting a bounty on his head. Ellen might have been desperate enough to seek him out with Jo dead, but that doesn’t mean anything. He and Dean both ran to demons when they lost the other.

There are footsteps down the hall and he tries to muster a smile for them before he’s leaving, returning to the motel room he’d been in with Cas.

“Where did you go?” he asks.

Getting back here had taken the last bit of energy he had. He flips Cas off and collapses face first into the bed, barely managing to kick of his shoes before he falls asleep.

Dean would have taken them off for him, but Dean isn’t here.

~

When he wakes up twelve hours later, it’s to Cas standing above him and staring.

He groans, rolling over and away from that piercing blue gaze. “Don’t do that.”

“Where did you go?” he asks.

Sam tells him. It doesn’t take long, but his voice is still strained by the end of it.

“You heard her prayers?” Cas asks.

“No,” he says, then frowns. “I don’t know. I guess. Can I do that?”

Cas is learning human expressions one by one. Judgement had come quickly and easily.

Whatever. Apparently he can do that now.

“You said Azazel was a prince of hell,” Sam says. “Does that mean there are more of them?”

“Three,” he says warily. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Think they’d be willing to part with some blood in exchange for their lives?”

Sam’s not going to survive this. He knew that from beginning. It doesn’t really matter he has to do to himself to finish it.

There’s power in sacrifice.

“This is a terrible idea,” Cas says, which isn’t a no.

Apocalypse Never

They help Dad into the cabin, more coherent than he was when they first broke him out, and Sam heads back to the car for their bags, for the Colt, and tries not to think about how everything has gone so quickly to shit. Mom and Jessica’s killer got away, again, but they’re all alive. That’s not nothing, that’s –

The pain hits him so completely and suddenly that he has no chance to brace himself for it. Usually it builds, first prickling pain then greater, but this is something else. It feels like nails are being shoved into his skull, images coming almost too fast for him to follow. He doesn’t realize he’s screaming until it stops, until he comes to with his head in his brother’s lap, Dean’s arms pinning him down and his face white and terrified above him. “Sammy? Sammy, you’re bleeding. What’s wrong?”

His throat is too raw and tight to speak even if he wanted to. He does want to, but he can’t, he can’t say a goddamn thing.

I saved the world for you, he thinks wildly, and I didn’t even get to keep you. How fucked up is that?

~

He doesn’t know if his future self couldn’t send it all back any further, or if he thought that this would give Sam less time to fuck things up.

For a couple terrifying minutes, Sam had taken control of Lucifer. For a couple exhilarating minutes, Sam had the power of an archangel.

That sending the knowledge of the future back four years in the past was the best thing he could think to do with it leaves Sam with a poor opinion of the man he became. Then again, he had saved the world, so. There’s that.

He doesn’t want to think of the him that had fallen into the pit with Lucifer and Michael. He hopes he can save him by making different choices, but maybe he can’t. Alternate universes, or parallel ones, or whatever. Maybe that Sam is damned for good and the best he could do was save a different version of himself, a different version of his brother.

There’s not much point in wondering about it. He’ll never know either way.

It’s memories with no emotions, thank fuck, because just the knowledge of it all is enough to drive him to his knees, to edge him to weeping and whimpering and slitting his wrists if he lets it.

He’s not going to. He has work to do. There will be time to fall apart after, when the world is safe. When Dean is safe.

Dean after Dad had died and given him that ultimatum had been bad enough. Dean after forty years in hell had been nearly unrecognizable.

He wipes the blood from his face, ushers Dean back inside, and tries not to think too hard about what he’s about to do.

Dean figures out it’s Azazel in Dad’s body and they’re pinned to the wall and Sam waits until Azazel is hovering over him, hand next to his head as he tilts his head back and breathes over Sam’s lips. It’s a torture and a powerplay, to let the want in his eyes come out in his father’s face, to make it John’s body that’s pressed so nauseatingly close to his own.

Sam isn’t the same person he was four years ago, ten minutes ago.

Breaking out of Azazel’s hold is easy. He’s using the equivalent of a single finger to keep them down, like pinning down a butterfly, and it's only enough until it isn’t.

He grabs Azazel’s face and pulls him close, hears the beginning of his laughter before Sam seals their mouths together. He’s making a deal here, selling his soul sure as anything, just not with Azazel.

Azazel leans into it, just like Sam knew he would, shoving his tongue in Sam’s mouth and getting off at his instinctive flinch of disgust, of the way Dean’s screaming bloody murder behind him. Azazel hasn’t hurt Dean yet. Sam’s going to make sure he never will.

He bites down hard. Blood fills his mouth and he sucks on his tongue, drinking as much as he can. It doesn't tase like iron, not like it should, instead it's sweet and thick like honey. He thought Azazel would pull back now, but he’s still laughing into Sam’s mouth, even bites the inside of his cheek to add to the blood from his tongue, and he just lets Sam drink his fill. Of course, he doesn’t know what Sam knows. If Sam had done this the first time, the only thing the blood would have done would be to get him high and useless.

It means he gets more than a mouthful, that it’s long minutes of keeping his eyes closed and swallowing and trying not to think too hard about how it’s Dad’s hands on him and Dad’s hard on at his thigh and Dad’s tongue he’s sucking on. He’s already got four years’ worth of nightmares in his head. No need to add more than necessary.

His skin is buzzing, feeling stretched out over him like his body is too big for it suddenly, almost like the aches of growing pains but more electric. Azazel pulls back and licks up the side of his face, leaving blood and spit behind, and breathes into his ear, “If you missed me feeding you, boy, all you had to do was ask.”

Yeah, that’s enough of that.

He shoves Azazel back without moving his hands, hard enough that he stumbles, and he has to move fast, before he gets a smart idea like snapping Dad’s neck or bursting his heart. He raises his hand and he’d settle for an exorcism, but power is lying heavy and thick in his veins. Destroying Lilith nearly killed him and Azazel is more powerful than Lilith and the blood he drank shouldn’t be nearly enough.

But fear sparks in Azazel’s yellow eyes and he starts choking, black smoke leaking from his ears and out his mouth. “How-”

Sam doesn’t let him finish. He remembers killing Samhain, killing Alastair, killing Lilith. He knows what to do.

Azazel dies screaming. Mom and Jessica are avenged. It’s not as satisfying as he thought it’d be.

Dad is on his hands and knees, taking in deep lungfuls of air. Sam knows from experience that being possessed isn’t pleasant.

“Sammy?”

He forces himself to look over, sees his brother approaching him with hands outstretched. The fear hasn’t gone anywhere even with Azazel dead, even with Dad alive, even though he doesn’t have any of the devastating injuries he sustained last time.

He doesn’t have the emotions to go along with the memory of the first time Dean saw him drinking demon blood, but he imagines it was something like this. “I’m sorry.”

“Sammy,” Dean says again, but Dad’s getting to his feet, Dad’s looking at the Colt, and Sam can’t die yet. He still has work to do.

It’s not a conscious thought, not something he actively tries to do, it’s just one minute he’s there in a cabin with his father and brother and the next he’s in the middle of a field, the night air crisp and clear and a million stars shining above him.

He couldn’t do that before.

There’s something wrong, he thinks, because he doesn’t remember what drinking demon blood felt like, but he remembers describing it, and this isn’t right. He should be drained after that, should feel almost normal again, but instead it’s like there are bees pinging around inside him, like there’s molten lava in his veins, like he’s dying.

He’s dying, he realizes suddenly, the power threatening to eat him alive. He looks down at his arms, like he’s expecting to see them crisping up beneath moonlight, but they look normal, like skin. Of course it’s not killing him, no matter what it feels like. He’s Lucifer’s perfect vessel. There’s no power his body can’t contain, none except God’s, maybe, and it looks like he’s long past making house calls.

It won’t kill him, but it hurts like hell, and he can’t think, he needs to burn it off somehow. He’s never had this problem before, not even when he drank all that blood for Lucifer.

He’s standing in Bobby’s living room and he doesn’t understand why until he sees the body on his kitchen table wrapped in a white sheet. He doesn’t know how Bobby got rid of the paramedics, if he’s maybe holding the body for her family, but Sam thinks he knows how to get rid of some of the itching along his skin.

Sam died a lot, in those weeks he and Dean were apart. Lucifer was true to his word. Sam came back every time.

He pulls down the sheet, sees the ways Meg’s face has settled into death in the past day, how decay has started to take hold and left her blue and cold and her skin slack. He leans down, presses a kiss to her cheek, and thinks that this is the least he owes her, for what she endured because of him, for trying to help him even at the bitter end.

She gasps to life beneath him, warmth flooding her skin and air stuttering into her lungs. “Sam?” she asks, fear and confusion and a pain that’s not physical.

Maybe she won’t want to live, considering everything she’s been through, but at least now the choice is hers and not a demon’s. There are footsteps and he turns to see Bobby standing in the doorway, gun pointed to the ground and mouth open in shock. Sam doesn’t have time to worry about it, instead he’s gone, the same burning still clawing its way out of his bones.

Caleb lies slumped in the chair Meg had tied him to, throat slit and eyes empty. Sam puts his hands on his shoulders, presses his lips to his bald head, and feels the moment his heart starts beating again. He sends the ropes falling with barely a thought and he’s gone the moment he hears his first confused groan.

Pastor Jim is laid out in his home, church workers Sam vaguely recognize huddled around him in prayer, his final send off. He’s just glad he got here before they burned him. They start screaming when they see him but he leans down, internally wincing at how Jim’s going to explain his way out of this one, and kisses his forehead, a reversal of the paternal tenderness Jim had shown him as a child.

His chest rises and his eyes open and his eyebrows push together. “Sam, what-“

He doesn’t stick around to hear the end of that question, figures it’s not anything he can answer anyway.

It takes him a long moment of staring out at the snow covered peaks and too close sky and the brilliant sun hitting his face even though it was just the middle of the night for him to place himself, even though it shouldn’t be enough, but he knows where he is even though he shouldn’t.

The air’s too thin and he’s going to give himself altitude sickness if he lingers and he should probably be freezing to death but his blood is still running too hot. Not burning, not like it was before he brought three people back from the dead, but still far from comfortable.

Still. He can’t say he ever thought he’d ever get to see the view from Mt. Everest.

“Castiel,” he says. “It’s Sam Winchester. We need to talk.”

Nothing. Typical.

“I know about God’s plan, about Lucifer and Michael, about my role as his vessel. I know about you, Cas. You’re going to want to hear me out.”

There’s the rustle of wings behind him and he turns to see Cas, younger than he looked before. Jimmy Novak younger than he’d been before. He wonders about that for a moment. He’d half expected Cas to show up as a sherpa rather than nip to America for a vessel, but Cas had kept the shape of Jimmy Novak even after his physical body perished, so maybe there’s a deeper preference there than just convenience.

His face is as cold as their surroundings. “You have strayed from God’s light.”

“Yeah, well, what good has he ever done me?” he asks tiredly. He used to believe. He believed yesterday. He prayed this morning. Even when he met Cas the first time, he believed. “I can’t explain. Can you just read my mind? We don’t have time.”

His eyebrows push together, but Cas has to be curious, otherwise he wouldn’t have said anything. He steps forward and presses two fingers against Sam’s forehead. He doesn’t feel any different, but when Cas lowers his hand, he’s lost his stoicism. Shock, despair, and anger chase themselves across his feature and Sam can’t blame him.

He’s not the only who lost his faith in the future.

“You said there were thousands of seals,” he says. “How many exactly?”

His eyes snap to Sam’s. “What?”

“God loved Lucifer,” he says. “It’s why he imprisoned him rather than destroying him. It’s why he left him a way out. Maybe it’s why he set up the apocalypse in the first place. I don’t know, I don’t care. All I know is that I’m not letting him out, ever. So we’re going to destroy every seal we can.”

Some can’t be undone, like the first one, a righteous man torturing an innocent soul in hell. But there are plenty that can, hopefully enough, hopefully most. If there are less than sixty six seals available, then Lucifer is never getting out of his cage.

“There were originally ten thousand seals,” Cas answers and Sam gets lightheaded for reasons that have nothing to do with thin air. “Only two thousand and thirty four seals are still viable.”

Okay, that’s better. Not great, but better. “Let’s get that number down to sixty five.”

“You are different,” Cas says.

Of course he’s different. His father’s alive. His brother never went to hell. Sam has never known the utter desolation of being completely alone, of grief and guilt so heavy he’s surprised it didn’t break his spine as surely as Jake’s knife in his back. He doesn’t actually remember feeling it, which is no small mercy, but he saw the effects of living with it, which is almost as bed. He'd thought what he’s feeling because of Jessica is as low as he could get. It’s not even close.

He wants to dig up her bones and breathe life into them, but at almost a year dead he thinks that’s beyond even this strange new power. Even like this, he’s failing Jessica one more time.

“Got any ideas?” he asks. “It wasn’t like this before. With the blood.”

He’d drank Ruby nearly dry more than once. It had been a high and then a crash and never did it give him access to this type of power.

“Azazel is – was a prince of hell,” Cas answers.

Sam frowns. “I thought he was king?”

“He was regent,” he corrects, “but to be a prince is separate from being ruler of hell. Lucifer created Lilith from bone, as Adam and Eve were made. The princes were created from his blood. Azazel’s blood is, in a way, Lucifer’s.”

Lucifer’s blood. Sam, his vessel, drinking down Lucifer’s blood, as a baby and now. Except as a baby he’d only had a few drops. He’d consumed a lot more than that back at the cabin.

Demon blood always wore off. The few drops of Azazel’s blood he’d gotten as a baby never had. He probably should have taken that into consideration, but there hadn’t been any time.

“Lucifer is evil but he is not a demon,” Cas continues.

Sam realizes suddenly that he did have power like this once. When he locked away Lucifer inside of him and took his power for his own. It’s not the same, not even close, but it’s similar. “This is what angel blood does?”

“No,” he says. “This is what Archangel Lucifer’s blood does to his perfect vessel. I believe. This has never happened before, so I cannot be certain. You are, as always, one of kind, Sam Winchester.”

It’s not quite a compliment, but it’s not as combative as he remembers Castiel being in the beginning. He’ll take it. “Guess we’ll figure it out together, then. If you’re sticking around to help prevent the apocalypse.”

If he’s not, this is going to be more than difficult. Tracking down all the seals without an angel on his side isn’t going to be impossible, but pretty damn close. And he doesn’t know how much time he has. Hell is going to be pissed about him killing Azazel. Heaven is probably going to take notice once he starts destroying seals so they can never be opened. Not to mention, he’s definitely going to be on hunters’ radar. Even if Dad can keep his mouth shut about him drinking demon blood, which he knows better than to rely on, him bringing back people from the dead is going to spread quickly. He’s going to be hunted at all sides, just like last time.

At least last time he had Dean, even broken, even when he was broken himself. He still had his brother.

But this is the price for saving him. For making sure that Dean is never in the position to kick off the apocalypse in the first place, to make it so Lucifer never again walks the earth even if heaven and hell reincarnate him and Dean and try and start this all over again.

He’s going to be killed for it, he knows, by demons or angels or hunters. But that doesn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things.

“Yes,” Cas says. “It is better for us all if the future you saw never comes to pass. I will help you.”

He grins, clapping Cas on the shoulder, and only laughs at the glare he receives in return. They have to get out of here before the altitude makes him loopy. Maybe it already has.

He’s going to save the world for his brother and he’s not even going to get to keep him.

How fucked up is that?

[daffypsyduck]

x

[moe-broey]

VIVID fucking idea I had last night....

Background info, I think Moe has some really distinct tendencies that Alfonse ends up being able to immediately identify it by (and finds a lot of comfort in doing so). One of which, is it doing a quiet, hesitant, but steady knock. Persistent, but with long pauses in between.

ENTER..... the Vision........ just. This entire sequence. "You'll never hear from me again". Into, the quiet knock only a few hours later. Into bursting in with the MOST enthusiastic, "HOLY FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Moe really is Some Type of Guy LMFAOO

Fave panels.......

[blujayonthewing]

one thing that's fun for me every single year as a person on the internet is that 'depression and existential despair over having essentially wasted your favorite part of the year, again' season lines up exactly with 'everyone on earth absolutely tripping over each other to yell about how happy they are that this part of the year is almost over and how much they hate it and think it fucking sucks'

[rainingincale]

.

[yeonzzzn]

say my name: sunghoon

pairing: sunghoon x afab!reader word count: 6.9k

synopsis: you never liked sunghoon. matter of fact, you hate him. he annoys you and makes your blood boil. what makes it worse is he’s your neighbor, attends the same college as you, and even worked his way into your friend group. you refuse to say his name, but he has plans to make you scream it.

genre: neighbors!au, enemies to lovers, smut.

warnings: swearing, reader has an attitude problem, mutual masturbation, using readers spit to jerk off, fingering, cum eating, unprotective sex, doggie, hair pulling, lmk if I missed anything!

You gripped the bedsheets, knuckles turning white and mouth going slack as moans escaped your lips. One of his hands left your hips and moved to your head, pushing your long hair from your face before connecting it to the side of your face, pressing you further into the sheets, another moan leaving your mouth. 

He chuckled, “Yeah? You like that huh?” his hand at your hip squeezed and shoved you further onto him, using more force into his other hand to press your face harder into the sheets, “Such a dirty fucking girl.” 

You exhaled out, “I fucking hate you,” but had the biggest smirk on your lips as he used every force possible to fuck into you. 

Sunghoon smirked at the look on your face, “No you don’t,” he cooed, his hand on your face moving to the top of your head, grasping a fistful of your hair and yanking, pulling you up and connecting your back to his chest, “Say my name,” he growled into your ear, letting go of your hair and snaking his hand down to your heat, middle finger circling your clit in perfect rhythm with his thrusts, “Say. My. Name.” 

Your head spun as you thought back on how you ended up in this situation with his cock so deep inside you. 

You hated him the moment he moved in next door. You hoped whoever your neighbor would be that they would be better than the last one. The last neighbor you shared a wall with was loud, always yelling at something, banging on the walls, watching TV way too loud, and for whatever reason would leave their apartment door open to “get fresh air,” when in reality you thought it was to shove whatever terrible smell they had inside out. 

You were so thankful when you saw your new neighbor was your age. He was handsome, looked smart, was quiet, seemed clean and his best friends were hot. 

But you learned soon enough that he was a prick and your hate for him started. 

Your first interaction with him was asking if he could turn his music down because it was three in the morning and you had work that following morning. 

He opened the door wide, wearing nothing but his tight blue boxers that clearly showed his boner. His hair was a mess, and the giggles of two females could be heard from his bedroom. You tried to drown out their giggles and keep your eyes on his, terribly failing and staring down at his chest, abs…his cock. 

He smirked, leaning closer to you, “Like what you see? Want to join us?” Anger filled you instantly. Who the fuck did this prick this he was? He barely moved in a few days ago, has TWO other females in his apartment, and is hitting on you when he doesn’t know you?

You snarled, “Just turn the damn music down!” 

He, in fact, did not turn the music down but turned it up. 

The rest of that week was hell. Music, alcohol, other females, and his friends flew in and out of that apartment, making you sleep less and less every day. 

When classes started back up that following week, to your dismay, you walked into your microbiology class to see him sitting in the corner of the classroom. His hands shoved into his black hoodie, eyes locking onto yours. He smirked, leaning forward into his chair, resting his elbows on the table, and giving you a wink. 

If you could drop this class and take it another semester you would. But you were so close to being done with your prerequisites for your major that there was no point in dropping it. Plus you wouldn’t let your prick of a neighbor ruin this for you. 

Except he made class hell too. Tossing notes your way, giving you winks, and biting his lips. Always having a comeback to your answer when the professor would ask questions.

You discovered through the class that his name was Park Sunghoon, and the moment you knew his name was the moment you vowed to never say it. To not let that tainted name leave your lips. 

Sunghoon only did more to piss you off as time went on. Walking around outside the apartment practically naked, running his hands over his body, and winking at you. Always teasing you at college by how you “wanted” him. 

What made things worse, he somehow befriended your best friend. Yunjin invited you to a party one night and you gladly accepted it, wanting one night away from the apartment building and away from Sunghoon. 

You walked into the party, expecting to be embraced by your best friend, but instead saw the door being opened by Jake, one of Sunghoon’s hot best friends. 

“Oh shit! Hey YN!” his Aussie accent blurted out, “You’re friends with Yunjin too?” 

Too?

You peered into her house, seeing Sunghoon’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, red solo cups in their hands as they laughed together with not only your friends but also his. 

Yunjin’s eyes widen in excitement at seeing Jake lead you into her house, “YNNIE!!!” 

She released herself from Sunghoon and embraced you quickly, “I have some people I want you to meet!” 

She introduced you to Sunghoon and his friends, the awkward smile on Sunghoon’s face showed that he had zero clue you were best friends with Yunjin. 

“No shit!” Jay exclaimed, “You’re best friends with YN?! Sunghoon is her neighbor!” 

Yunjin, mostly in her drunken state, was more excited than she should be, “OH EM GEEE!!” she clapped her hands, “We can be one big happy friend group!”

You found out from Yunjin that she and Sunghoon have a few classes together and even already hung out a few times around campus with his friends when you were busy. 

You wanted to break up the friendship but felt way too guilty and didn’t want to be that person to break away a friendship. 

So you sucked it up. 

For months you tried to act normal, but Sunghoon’s flirting and his teasing only got worse. Making you hate him even more. Oh, but it fueled him to continue. 

Even after almost a year, you refused to call him by name, referring to him as stupid, idiot, idiot penguin(after finding out he was a figure skater), and simply just a prick. 

You twirl your pencil between your fingers, listening to Heeseung and Yunjin talk about the League of Legends match they had last night. Jake cutting into the conversation. 

“Yeah yeah nerds, I have something to say.” 

Sunghoon glanced up at his best friend from his homework, “What could be more important than their league match?” 

“What the idiot penguin said,” you chimed in, eyes going back down to your homework. 

“Are we still going with the idiot penguin?” Sunghoon scoffed, “It’s been a year, YN,” he rolled his eyes, “I have a name.”

You shrugged, standing by your statement of never saying his name. 

Your friend group soon figured out whatever enemies thing you two had going on but never addressed it, hoping you two would figure it out on your own. 

“Anyways,” Jay said, “What is important?” 

Jake smiled, “Let’s go to the next city over and party.” 

Chaewon’s eyes lit up, “You know, why not?” 

Yunjin even seemed interested. 

Your little small town had bars and one shitty club. Neither was worth walking into. Going the next city over for a night out didn’t seem like a bad idea until…

“We can get a hotel!” Yunjin said, “That way we don’t have to rush back home and can actually get drunk.” 

You were on board until the hotel was brought up, “No. Absolutely not.” 

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes at you, knowing perfectly well why you didn’t want to, “Get over it, you’re going. All of us are.” 

You protested the whole week against going, yet you found yourself in the very backseat of Chaewon’s car sitting right next to Sunghoon. 

You rolled your head back onto the headrest, crossing your arms with a groan, “Can someone PLEASE switch seats with me?” 

“NO!” everyone else shouted. Sunghoon just sitting in silence, his arms also crossed, eyes locked onto whatever could be so interesting outside the car. 

You’ve only been in the car for an hour and a half, yet it was killing you already. 

“You really need to get over whatever hate you have for him,” Yunjin said earlier in the day as she shoved her duffle bag into the trunk, “I don’t understand it, everyone else is fine with each other besides you two.” 

You crossed your arms, “He’s just a prick. Has been since I’ve met him.” 

Yunjin rolled her eyes, “You aren’t even sure if he even did have a threesome with those girls.” 

She wasn’t…wrong. But by the way, his dick was hard in those…tight boxers, there’s no way he didn’t fuck them both. 

“Idiot penguin didn’t really do a good job of defending himself if he wasn’t, plus he asked ME to join them.” 

Yunjin just sighed, “He hates when you call him that, he actually wants to be friends with you, ya know. We are all friends, you live right next door to each other, just try to get along tonight, okay?” 

Yet here you were in the backseat with him wanting nothing more than to jump out of the window and let every car hit you. 

The sun started to set, and everyone one by one (except Chaewon and Jay who were driving and the passenger) fell asleep. 

A small bump in the road was enough to wake you from your sleep. You yawned and then the pain of the way your body was twisted into the seat kicked in. 

With a soft groan, you shifted yourself up, eyes wandering down your legs seeing them draped over Sunghoon’s lap. 

His eyes were wide and lips tucked between his eyes as he stared down at your legs. You shifted in your seat, ready to yell at him and pull your legs back but when your foot grazed over his crotch, you were in more shock than he was when realizing you were awake, head snapping to you so fast. 

“YN…” he whispers, eyes darting to the front of the car then back to you, “It’s not—“

“Then what is it you prick?!” you whisper back. He had a fucking hard-on?! What the hell was he thinking and doing with your legs?!

Sunghoon quickly placed his hand over his hard cock, trying to conceal it as if it would help make the situation better. 

It didn’t. 

“And now you’re touching yourself?!” you whispered in a snap, “You’re such a pervert you prick!” 

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes down at you, “Will you shut the fuck up and listen for a second, ya?” you thinned your lips in a line, waiting. “You at some point in your sleep shoved your legs into my lap. It woke me up and I was so close to shoving you off me, but you looked peaceful and Jay made me promise to not start shit with you.” Ahhh so they all were in on trying to get you two to play nice, “So I left you alone, but you started shifting around and…” 

And he got a fucking boner just from your legs. 

“You have a leg fetish or something?” you raise a brow at him. 

Only for your legs. 

Sunghoon shook his head, “You’re fucking crazy.” 

But maybe he was the crazy one. Ever since he’s met you, he’s wanted nothing more than to fuck that attitude out of you. To fuck all that hate you have for him out. To turn that scrunched face full of anger every time you look at him into a relaxed sexual face with you moaning out his name. 

He’s never once heard you call him by name. Even when he’s texted you about stuff about hanging out with everyone or for class or homework or literally anything about the apartment you always call him some wack ass name. 

Sunghoon has it as his goal to get you to say his name. Whether that’s by him fucking you into the next year, or gaslighting you into saying it somehow. He preferred option one. 

He found you so ridiculously sexy. Your attitude always got him going and he couldn’t explain why. Maybe it’s because he wanted to fuck that attitude out, maybe it’s because over the year of knowing you, he’s grown a little crush. Loving the way your eyes light up when a strawberry alcoholic beverage of any kind is placed in front of you. Loving how you smile when you see animals and how you dance around with Yunjin in her living room. 

He found it so sexy how you give back every ounce of bullshit he threw at you. So sexy when you wear your tight sweatpants that shape your ass do fine. Finding the small mole above your naval so cute and attractive, mostly when you wear tight crop tops or shorter shirts that lift when you stretch showing off your tummy. 

Sunghoon was so down bad for you in many ways that even he wasn’t able to understand it. 

He hated you to a degree, but only in a way to keep himself from feeling things he shouldn’t for you. 

“I’m crazy?” you burned holes into his eyes when he nodded, “Says the one who got a boner over my legs.” 

Sunghoon couldn’t hold it back anymore, slowly palming his cock, “Yeah? And what about it? Your legs are so fucking sexy.” Sunghoon loved your legs and wanted to rub his hands up and down them. Wanted to squeeze the plush of your thighs. Wanted them to straddle him. 

You could see it in his eyes, the way his pupils were starting to look blown out and filled with so much lust. He’s never looked at you like that before. 

It made your cheeks flush and made you speechless. Your eyes wandered away from his and down to the hand palming himself, watching as his hips slowly shifted up with each stroke of his palm. 

It sent heat down your body and pooled between your legs. You hated him, so why was watching him stroke himself so hot to you? Making you want to continue watching him. 

“Oh, you so want me,” he whispered, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth, slowly sliding his hand down his sweatpants and boxers, letting out a soft grunt and he flung his head back into the headrest, keeping his eyes locked with yours. 

You watched how the moonlight and street lamps shined on him as he fucked up into his fist slowly. 

“Prick,” you whispered back at him, closing your thighs together in hopes of concealing the rising heat between them. But Sunghoon notices everything. 

“You’re so wet, aren’t you? All just from watching me? So dirty.” He was making your blood boil. But the slick between your legs was worse than your anger at the moment, and you knew that he could see it too. 

“Shut up,” you closed your legs tighter, trying to fight yourself from looking at him, from looking at how his hand moves under his sweatpants. 

“Touch yourself.” 

Your eyes widened, “Excuse you?!” 

“Shut the fuck up!” he snapped, making you realize you said that a bit too loud, with a groan he repeated himself, “I said touch yourself.” 

You snarl at him, opening your mouth to fight back but ultimately stopping when he pulls his hand from his pants and lifts his hips to slide them down to his thighs. 

He looked back at you as he wrapped his hand back around himself, a smirk raising, “Close your mouth, you might start drooling, YN.” 

You didn’t realize how wide you let your jaw drop at his size…he was huge. Maybe that day you told him to turn his music down, his cock showing wasn’t because of how tight his boxers were…

You closed your mouth, sliding your back into the seat and slouching down, running your thighs even more together. 

Sunghoon was loving the way you were looking at him. Loved how you kept darting your eyes back and forth between his face and cock. Oh, the way he’ll tease you about this until his last breath. 

He leaned towards you a bit, rubbing his thumb over the tip to spread his precum, “Touch yourself, YN.” 

Your heart was racing, your body on fire. You wanted to. So bad. But didn’t want to give him that satisfaction. 

Sunghoon let a small moan leave his lips, and you were done for. 

You slid your hand down your shorts, your fingers working their way to spread your slick around your clit. 

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers, eyebrows furrowing, “Keep going.” 

You stared down at his cock, watching how he bucked his hips in movement with his hand, seeing how his precum leaked from the tip. 

But then he released himself, reaching over and stopping his hand below your mouth, “Spit.” 

You didn’t hesitate, dripping your saliva into a small pool in his hand. Sunghoon could have came just by the eye contact you gave him as you gave him your spit. Like holy fucking shit it was hot. 

Sunghoon spreads your saliva over his cock, hitting his head back into the headrest as his hand glides so easily up and down his shaft, “Oh, fuck.” 

You bit your lips and pressed two fingers inside you, letting small and quiet whimpers escape just loud enough for him to hear. 

Sunghoon wanted you to expose yourself as he has to you, reaching his free hand to the hem of your shorts and tugging, “Pull’em down.” 

So you did. Releasing your fingers from your cunt only long enough to push your shorts and panties down to your ankles and pumping your fingers back into you. 

Sunghoon hissed at see you finger fuck yourself. Loving how your hips rolled in time with your fingers. God, he wished it was his fingers inside you. 

He looks up to you, seeing that your eyes were still locked onto his cock. He slouched more down into the seat, giving himself more room to pump himself and give you a better view. 

You bit your lips tighter and pushed your fingers in faster, knowing damn well you were covering the seat in your juices. But you didn’t care at that moment. 

Sunghoon’s hand was on your thigh, spreading your leg more apart, giving you that access to finger fuck yourself faster. 

It was driving him up a wall at how you looked right now. You’ve only ever shown him faces of anger, but right now you’re showing him the faces you make when horny and touching yourself. And oh god he was loving it. 

He wanted you to look at him while touching yourself. He wanted to see the face you’d make when you cum, wanting you to watch him cum. 

“Hey, YN,” he was barely able to whisper, “Eyes on me.” 

You locked eyes with him, chills being sent down your spine at his fucked out expression. You couldn’t help but let your imagination run wild. Is this how he looks when he’s having sex? So out of it and lustful? 

You wondered how he’d fuck you while you straddled him. Would his hips buck up like they are doing into his fist? Would he go faster? Harder? The thoughts were endless as you stared back into his eyes. 

His mouth slightly opened, his lips swollen from how hard he was biting them to keep his moans compressed. He let out small grunts, eyes quickly looking down at how covered your hand was with your wetness, wanting to unbuckle himself and grab you by your thighs until your back was touching the bottom of the seat as he spreads your legs and fucked himself into you. 

The thoughts were enough to send him over the edge, “YN,” he whispered.

“Hmm?”

“I’m fixing to cum.” 

Your body tensed, fingers moving faster, “Cum then,” you whispered back, your thumb now doing circles on your clit as you pumped yourself. 

“M’cumming,” he said with a deep inhale, tucking his lips back between his teeth as he released, his cum leaking out so perfectly and down his hand. 

“Fuck,” you whimper, working your fingers faster. 

Sunghoon slid his boxers up first, wiping his cum on the inside of his boxers due to not having anywhere else to do so, then slid his sweatpants back over his hips. 

He locked his eyes back to yours, seeing how desperate you looked wanting to cum too. He slides his eyes down to your cunt. If it were his hands there…you would have came twice by now. 

You wanted to release terribly, but the angle of your hand and the small of the backseat made it difficult for you to chase out that climax. You tensed as you tried to reach for it, calling for it. 

Your body froze when Sunghoon’s hand grabs yours, pulling your fingers out of your cunt, “Let me help.” 

Usually, you’d protest and yell at him. Call him a prick. Shove him away. But right now you wanted to cum and that priority was above all else. 

He replaced your fingers with his. His long fingers slid into you so gracefully, “Fuck you’re so wet,” he moans softly, angling his hand in the perfect spot as he hit your g-spot. Sunghoon couldn’t believe he was feeling you in his hand, feeling your slick pool in his palm, feeling you clench around his fingers. He was already getting hard again. 

“Feels good baby?” he whispers in your ear and all you do in response is nod. 

Something about his fingers was driving you crazy. The way they hit your g-spot with such ease, the way his thumb brushed against your clit with each movement…

“Say my name,” he says into your ear, pumping his fingers in you faster. 

“No,” you say back, your hand flying to his wrist and squeezing it tightly. 

“Say my name, YN,” he said again, curling his fingers so deep inside you, your climax nearing so fast you didn’t have time to think, “Say my name baby.” 

You opened your mouth, not to say his name, but to moan as you came around his fingers and hand. Sunghoon acted fast enough to press his lips to yours, suppressing your moan from being too loud and letting the others find out what was happening in the back seat. 

You closed your eyes at your release, Sunghoon’s fingers still moving inside you slowly, helping you chase out at high. 

You kissed him back, without so much as a second thought, you kissed him back. 

Maybe you did it as a way to thank him for helping you release, maybe you did it because you wanted to. The lines were blurred and you didn’t know why you let him kiss you. 

His fingers slid out from your cunt as he leaned more into you, his tongue spreading your lips apart and making its way into your mouth twirling the muscle around yours. 

Once you came down from your high, your eyes opened wide, and shoved Sunghoon back to his side of the car. A chuckle left his lips, “Back to hating me?” 

“I never stopped hating you!” 

“Right,” he clicked his tongue, as he looked down at his hand covered in your cum, “That’s not what your body said five minutes ago.” 

You wanted to call him his usual nickname but stopped short when he lifted his hand to his lips, tongue extending out and licking your cum from his palm then shoved his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean. 

Fuck she tastes so good. 

Your face reddens, “Prick,” 

His eyes roamed down to your cunt, “Pull your shorts up.” 

“I hate you.” 

—

Once you all arrived at the hotel and checked into your rooms, you quickly locked the door, sliding your back down the wood and covering your face in your hands. 

The guilt of what happened was finally hitting you. You masturbated with him. Watch him cum down his hand and even let him make you cum. You let him kiss you, and shove his tongue down your throat. 

You felt dirty and in need of a shower to wash away the guilt and feeling of his hand between your legs. 

Everyone was supposed to meet down in the lobby twenty minutes after getting to their rooms to change and do whatever else before hitting up the club. It was plenty of time to shower and wash Sunghoon off you. 

You scrubbed your body clean and even double-brushed your teeth before sliding into the dress Yunjin and Chaewon forced you to bring, “It makes you look so hot!” Yunjin said, “Fits you in all the right places!” 

Well, she was right. The red dress was made of silk and slid down your body perfectly as well as fit you perfectly. It was tight around your frame to show off your curves, shaping your ass and lifting your tits. You slid your feet into matching red sneakers, not caring enough to walk around in heels all night. 

You arrived in the lobby, seeing that Jake and Sunghoon were the first ones there.

Just looking at Sunghoon not only brought back your moment in the car together but brought out a different feeling. 

You could tell he also showered by how wet his hair still was. His hair was parted perfectly in its normal part, pieces sliding down into his face. His black button-up shirt was tight against his frame, showing his muscled arms and shoulders perfectly. Matching his shirt, he wore black pants that fit him perfectly in a loose way. 

Jake mirrored his outfit but in white, going for a whole yin and yang thing. Which made sense for the two of them being best friends and all. 

“Wow,” Jake was the first to speak, “You look—“

“Sexy,” Sunghoon finished for him, his gaze eyeing you up and down. 

“Yes! Sexy!” 

Sunghoon tried to not let his irritation with his best friend show as he watched him practically drool over you. If only Jake knew he was knuckles deep in your pussy not even an hour ago. 

Hell, Sunghoon was trying to not drool over you right now. Red was definitely your color and it was doing something to him down in his pants. Especially with the way the tops of your breasts pooled over the top of that dress. 

You noticed how he was eye fucking you, earning you to scrunch your nose at him and look away, putting your attention fully on Jake. 

Shit, there’s that attitude I want to fuck right out of her. 

It didn’t take much longer for the others to arrive and off to the club you all went. 

The club was packed. The music you didn’t quite care for and Sunghoon wouldn’t let you out of his sight, following your every move like a hawk hunting his prey. 

Everyone else had found their way to the dance floor, shaking some ass and grinding up on random strangers having the time of their lives. That could be you if you didn’t have an idiot penguin on your heels. 

You walked up to the bar, waving the bartender over, “Yes ma’am?” he said, his eyes immediately dropping to your cleavage.

“She’ll take a strawberry coconut rum with extra ice please, make it two,” Sunghoon answered for you. 

You looked over at him, seeing how closely he stood next to you. Sunghoon wanted to touch you, have his hands on you to show every man in this club to back the fuck off. 

“You got it,” the bartender said, giving a small look of irritation at Sunghoon. 

Sunghoon just smirked, eyes flickering to his name tag, “Thank you, Choi Yeonjun.” 

Yeonjun just thinned his lips out, “Yeah, you’re welcome.” Then he walked off to make the drinks. 

Your glare at him didn’t falter, “Can I help you?” Sunghoon asked. 

“Can I help YOU? I can order my drinks myself.” 

“He was literally eye fucking you, I had to do something.” 

You raised a brow at him, “Huh? Is it eating you up so much that other men are looking at me?” 

Yes because no one else is allowed to have you. 

“Why would I care about that? It’s not them looking, it’s the fact they aren’t just looking. They are undressing you with their eyes and I can’t fucking stand it.” 

You’ve never seen Sunghoon so…protective before. He’s never batted an eye at you twice at the clubs and bars back home, letting any and every man hit on you as much as they wanted. What changed between then and now? 

Yeonjun returned with your drinks, giving you a flirty smile and glare at Sunghoon before walking away again. 

Sunghoon snarled at him. 

“Anyway!” You snapped, “How did you know what to even order me?” 

Sunghoon chuckled, taking a sip of the alcohol, “I’ve known you for over a year, YN. I’ve seen what you drink when we’ve gone out and at parties. I know you.” 

Somehow that hit hard to your heart, that he even paid that much attention to you outside of the constant teasing. 

“You hate me, why go through this trouble?” you scoffed, chugging down your drink quickly, wanting to already feel the buzz. 

“I hate you, but not in the same way you hate me,” he finally admitted, “It’s not any trouble at all to protect you, I’ve always done it, always shooed off anyone who would hit on you for too long. You just never noticed it.” 

Your heart skipped a beat, your memory shoving back in time at every time someone hit on you, how they’d flirt and touch your waist, only for them to leave to grab a drink and never return. Now you know why, Sunghoon got to them. 

“What do you mean that you don’t hate me the same way I hate you?” 

Sunghoon looked away from you, chugging down the last bit of his drink before tossing it back onto the bar counter and taking a deep breath in. 

“You hate me because of how I flirt with you, how I tease you about anything and everything. You hate me for how loud I blast my music, hate me for being loud when Heeseung, Jay, and Jake are over, hate me for the number of females I’ve brought in and out of my apartment, hate me because you think I had a threesome with those girls all that time ago when I actually didn’t, by the way, I sent them home before anything else could happen. And you hate me for competing against you in class, hate me for joining your friend group, the list goes on. But me? I hate you because of how bad I want you.” 

He looked back at you, his face softened from his hardened look from earlier at Yeonjun. You could tell by the look in his eyes that he was holding everything back. 

Sunghoon wanted to yell at you for how stupid you were for not seeing how he felt about you. That his little teasing and acts of flirting were because he likes you. Yeah, he wanted to fuck your brains out along with that nasty attitude of yours, that ain’t no lie, but the moment he first laid his eyes on you his heart wanted to jump out his chest. And after seeing the way you eyed him up that one day you went to yell at him about his music, it tipped him over the edge to always wanting to be that thorn in your side pissing you off. Because it was better than making you feel nothing at all for him. 

Sunghoon sighs, “I hate you because I want you so bad. I hate you because you can’t even dare say my name. I hate you for the things you make me feel. I fucking hate you for letting me kiss you in the car because now all I can think about is how I’d get my lips back on yours.”

You stared blankly at him, before nervously shaking your head and letting out a chuckle, “Right. This is just your way of teasing me again.” 

“If I wanted to tease you right now, I’d bring up how badly you were gasping at my cock in the car.” 

“Shut up!” You snapped, your face reaching the same shade as your dress. 

He smirked at you, “All that aside, I want you so fucking bad that I can’t handle it anymore, and by how fucking wet you were for me…” he took a step closer to you, face nearly inches apart from yours, “I know you want me so bad too.”

You swallowed, body shaking from how close he was to you right now. Sunghoon rested his forehead against yours, biting at his lower lip, “Say my name,” 

You lifted your face a bit, barely brushing your lips to his, “No,” 

Sunghoon’s hands were now at your waist, fingers digging into that sexy dress of yours that he wanted to rip from your body, “God I want to fuck that attitude out of you.”

Your heart was doing flips and you finally understood why: because of the feelings that ran deep within you that you sheltered up and locked away. Finally understanding that’s why he made your blood boil at nearly existing. You were forcing the feelings you felt for him away. 

You landed your hands on his biceps, rubbing your thumb over the muscle, “Say my name,” he said again. 

You smiled, shaking your head. 

Sunghoon just smirked back at you, taking a few steps back and guiding you with him, “I am going to get you to say my name.” 

You, for the first time, flirted back, “How are you going to do that?” 

He didn’t respond, just kept pulling you toward the entrance of the club and until you were back at the hotel and being shoved into his room. 

His mouth found yours, his hands roaming every inch of your body as your fingers trailed down his shirt, undoing every button until the black fabric was lying somewhere on the floor. 

Sunghoon shoved his tongue down your throat at the same time he found the zipper to your dress, pulling it down in a shift motion to get you out of it quickly. 

His cock was twitching in his pants, so eager to be set free and find its new home inside your cunt. 

The moment your dress hit the floor, you were shoved onto your back on the bed, his hands on your hips and pulling you to the edge, looping his fingers into your panties nearly ripping them off you. 

“So fucking needy,” you teased him, “Want me that bad?” 

Sunghoon hissed, “You have no fucking idea.” 

He towered over you, pressing his lips back to yours as his fingers slipped into your soaked pussy. You moaned against his mouth, closing your thighs around his hand. 

“Say my name,” he said once again, “I wanna hear you say it.” 

You bit your lip, ushering out another no. 

Sunghoon was going insane for this little game of yours, it turned him on more than he’d like to admit. Maybe he was actually crazy. 

“Say my name,” he said as he pushed his fingers into you harder, curling his fingers at your g-spot, “Scream my name and I might consider letting you cum.”

You slid your hand down to your clit, working your fingers against it, “That's fine, I’ll just make myself cum.” 

Sunghoon groaned, swatting your hand from your clit and removing his fingers. Both hands grabbing at your waist and flipping you over, lifting your ass up and making your back arch, “Shit I can’t wait to fuck that attitude of yours away.” 

“Funny you think that’s something that can be done,” 

He took a handful of your hair and lifted you up, letting out a “Watch me,” in a whisper against your ear, then shoved you back down into the sheets. 

You heard the sound of his pants hitting the floor, then felt his tip prod at your entrance, “Prick…” 

“What was that?” 

“Pri—“

Before you could make out the word, he shoved his length into you, bottoming out then pushing himself back out and then in, not giving you any time to adjust to his size. 

You didn’t care though, the pleasure was far too great as he fucked into you like you were a bitch in heat, “Gonna fuck you so good you’ll start thinking twice before giving me attitude again.” 

And that’s how you ended up here, back pressed so tightly against his chest as his cock and fingers worked their magic on your body. 

You reached your hands up and behind his, fingers tangling into his hair as your brain became foggy. 

He fucked into you with the full intention of getting you to scream his name. Of getting you to come so unglued on his cock you’ll be begging him to fuck you some more. 

Even with these goals in mind, Sunghoon couldn’t believe he had your body pressed up against his, cock so balls deep into your cunt, and hearing your moans so crystal clear in his ear. He loved it. Loved how much of a mess he was making of you. 

He worked his middle finger faster against your clit, “Say my name,” he begged, “Say my fucking name.” 

You bit down on your lip, trying with any willpower left that you had to keep from screaming his name. From giving him exactly what he wanted. 

Sunghoon kept trying and wasn’t going to stop until his name left your lips. He’ll fuck you until the sun starts raising if he had to, all to hear your pretty voice speak his name. 

Your climax was fast approaching, you wanted to cum so bad, and you knew what you had to do to reach it, finally letting go. 

“Sunghoon,” you softly moaned. 

“Louder,” he growled. 

“Sunghoon,” you moaned again. 

“Louder!” 

“SUNGHOON,” you screamed at the same time you came on his dick, his fingers and thrusts did not slow long down. 

“Fuccckkkk yessss,” he groaned, removing his fingers from your clit and using all his weight to push you back down into the sheets, his hands taking yours and lifting them above your head, pounding into you faster and harder than before. 

You chanted his name, losing your breath at the ecstasy that filled you. 

“That’s it, baby, scream my name like it’s the only name you’ll ever know.” 

You continued to moan his name, making it music to his ears and filling his heart with such happiness he didn’t think was possible. 

“Fuck, you love hoonie’s cock, ya? Love the way I give it to you?”

“Hoonie,” you cried out, “Fucking love your cock so much.” 

Sunghoon gripped his hands tighter around yours, “Cum for me again baby, you can do it.” 

You released on him again, your eyes seeing stars. 

He pushed your legs further apart with his knees and fucked harder into you, “I’m so in love with you,” he admitted, “I love that stupid ass attitude of yours, I love fucking that attitude out, I love the way you say my name and love the way you look at me while I fuck you. I love you.” 

You lifted your head, barely being able to look at him, but you did. You were looking up at him with such endearment. Like he was the one who put the stars in the sky just like he’s the one making you see them right now. 

“Sunghoon,” he came undone at how softly you said his name, his seed unloading into your gummy walls, slowing his thrust as he chased down his high, “I love you too.” 

—

You both sat hand in hand in the backseat, Sunghoon pinching your cheeks in a teasing manner as he rubbed his nose against yours, his smile so wide. 

“Hey,” Jay called from the front seat, “What the fuck happened with you two?” 

Heeseung groaned and slung his head onto the headrest, “You don’t even want to know! They were fucking each other's brains out all night.” 

Chaewon yawned at the driver's seat, “Be lucky you didn’t have a room next to his.” 

“No for real,” Heeseung added, “I got so tired hearing how many times he asked YN to cum for him. Wanted to shove pencils down my ears.” 

Sunghoon slapped his friend's chest, “Bring earphones next time buddy.” 

Jake and Yunjin looked at each other confused at what happened between their best friends, but going along anyway. Jake always knew Sunghoon had feelings for you and saw how he bottled it up. Jake guessed last night was Sunghoon’s tipping point. And Yunjin always knew you’d break at some point and accept Sunghoon, she just didn’t expect it to be as a lover. 

“Anyway,” Jay said rubbing his temples, “Let’s hit the road, I have work tomorrow and need to sleep off more of this hangover.” 

Chaewon then started the drive back home. 

Sunghoon rested his face back against yours, bringing your lips to his, “Say my name again.” 

“Sunghoon,” you whispered between kisses, “Sunghoon, Sunghoon, Sunghoon.”

[hon3y-y]

Roomie!sukuna doesn't even get horny for anyone other than you anymore. You have the wettest, nastiest pussy he's ever seen- and he deserves the best so nobody but you will do. You're fucking so many other fine men now that you dont even give him a second glance when he walks out the shower in just a towel to tease you. And oh, his temper when one of your hookups pick you up and you don't come home for the weekend. Or even worse, they stay for the weekend. Sukuna has never let a girl sleep over at the apartment but now there are two colognes in the bathroom, two pairs or men's shoes at the door, and he can almost never see you in the living room without some other man hanging off your side

read the other parts here! : part 1 part 2 part 4

he’s literally so embarrassingggg it’s not even funny. he’ll walk around and flex his muscles, smirk on his puffy lips as the water drips down his ripped torso. he stands outside your open door, you’re looking down at your phone deciding on whether to spend the night at choso’s or nanami’s (pick choso, nanami gets up at like 5 am 🙄), “showers empty..” sukuna basically purr’s, resting his arm on the doorway.

and you literally could not give less of a fuck💀

you just nod, mumbling a ‘thanks’ as you focus on putting both their names in a generator and letting that choose your fate for the night. let’s just say sukuna was extremely angry when a motorcycle pulls up and you just giggle and hop onto it, kissing the stupid leather clad boy while throwing on the custom bikers helmet choso had made for you. and to top it off, sukuna had to physically restrain himself from blowing up your phone on where the fuck you are??

messages;

ryo<3: didn’t see you this morning

you: i’m staying with choso for the weekend! sorry, should’ve told you last night:/

you: i also won’t be home after wednesday satoru is taking me to this festival! i’ll send pics😋

ryo<3: have fun 👍

omfg he’s losing it. he literally will spend the whole time in the gym, refusing to be in the empty apartment for longer than eight hours for sleep. he feels like there’s a cement brick in his chest when you’re whisked away by these men. but nothing is worse than when he stays over.

he being satoru.

it was becoming a huge issue. his longest “sleepover” was a week. a week where you weren’t even home for half of it. but sukuna was. he was there for all of it.

there was now a third toothbrush taking up countertop space in the bathroom, he would find satoru’s clothes in the wash (which would always somehow be in there whenever ryo specifically had to use it??), and gojo absolutely loved to make out with you everywhere but inside of your room and sukuna started to hated it. publicly claiming you in front of the guy who literally made it possible🙄 unbelievable.

let’s just say you take a break from bringing satoru over, doing your best to settle the tension at home. but sukuna couldn’t let it go, not when he stares at the stupid fucking blue electric toothbrush and knows that it’s only temporary.

at this point he didn’t even give a fuck about the other guys, you can keep them as long as he’s added onto your roster.

it’s been a while since the two of you had a movie night. something that used to, at the very least, happen once a month has been delayed due to your extra activities. the two of you relaxed into the couch, the movie was a random one you found choosing whatever looked the best by cover and for the first time in a while, sukuna felt like he had you.

“did you buy the candy?”

“shit, yeah. i think i left it in my room?”

“go get it while i make the popcorn!” you smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling excitedly. you looked so cute and soft, and ryo got a glimpse of your cute pink panties when you bent over to grab something so he was feeling just as good. he could already picture the little damp spot he’d create after teasing you and then force you to beg and make it up to him.

he thought about it the whole walk to his room, picking up the bag and then back to the living room, fantasizing about what he plans to do. and just as he’s about to turn the corner, a head of white fluffy hair is laying on your lap, legs spread to take up the full length of the couch. and the only seat available? the one farthest from you.

“i hope you don’t mind, satoru said he missed us!”

us… sukuna looked down at gojo, looking at the content quirk in his lip while he snuggled into you more, moving one of your hands into his hair to play with it. ryo’s eye twitched before he put the bag down and went back into his room, the door slamming behind him. the noise makes you force satoru up, a pit forming in your stomach. you didn’t want sukuna to feel uncomfortable in his own house—

“damn, what’s he so mad abo- he got macha kitkats!? mmm~”

*bonus*

sukuna is literally in his room about to dry heave because??? what alternative version of himself gave him such bad karma?!? in his room like this;

but quietly, because he DEFINITELY doesn’t want you to see him like this. such a fein🤦‍♀️

a/n: i didn’t put smut because i didn’t want to get repetitive BUT should we finally let sukuna get a taste?? part 4 where he finally gets her?? lmk🫶

*not edited*

[fairyofshampgyu]

☆ Drive you mad !

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

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

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

Word count: 4.7k

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

Second. Fucking. Place.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, like a nasty mould.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⸝⸝

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But anyway, fuck that and fuck him.

⸝⸝

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Neither driving is moving an inch!”

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

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

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

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

You crossed the line first. By a hair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You wish.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[renthony]

It's real fucked up how many queer people dread Pride season due to both systemic queerphobia and queer infighting. Pride season always rockets up my anxiety, and I know I'm not the only one.

This shit sucks, y'all. We gotta support each other more than the queerphobes hate us. I'm not saying we have to love each other, I'm not saying we even have to like each other, but we cannot keep subdividing communities, circulating callouts, and dogpiling each other over who has it worse. That shit will kill us all.

We cannot keep thinking of our individual experiences with bigotry as, "I know [xyz kind of queer] has it worse, but...", and we cannot keep looking at other experiences with bigotry as, "that's bad, but [abc kind of queer] still has it worse," when the reality is that we are all being targeted. It's all bad! It all deserves to be talked about and fought against without trying to put it in some kind of hierarchy! Hierarchies are not fucking helpful here!

Some fucking unity, please.

[no-144444]

the break up of the century - (l.norris, no 4)

----------------

----------------

pairing: lando norris (no.4) x fem! singer! reader

summary: you and lando break up on horrible terms, can a new album and a special performance bring you back together? is that even what you two want?

7.6k + words, brief fade-to-black smut, fluff, mainly angst :)

----------------

You weren’t sure how it happened, one moment you were on stage, the next, you were crying in your dressing room, hating every single thing about your life. Funny how one moment leads into the next, right? 

Y/n Y/l/n. Household name at the age of 19. Now, 23. Fans impatiently awaiting your next album, the album you hated, and now on a world tour that is sucking the life from your body. 

Sounds like you have it all. 

The money, the fame, the clothes, the boys, the voice. It’s all you’ve ever dreamed of. And now it means nothing, because you have it. And it’s nowhere near as good as you wanted it to be.

You’d always been told of the horror stories of fame taking more than it gave, and you always brushed it off with a smile and a ‘that’ll never happen to me’. Low and behold, you’ve had 4 stalkers in 2 years, 3 lawsuits against you from old record companies that dropped you, 2 grammys, and 1 ridiculously public break-up with he-who-shall-not-be-named. 

Having it all really means having too much to think about, and too much to deal with. You would’ve preferred to just go to university like all your friends. Be young. Make mistakes. But those were luxuries you took for granted, and now you’re paying the price. 

“Y/n?” Sasha, your manager called from outside. “We have the meet and greet.”

And then there was your fans. They were great, obviously, but they were also very hyper teenagers and young adults that paid a lot of money to see you, and it made you feel even worse about not being 100%. At least you’d cut ticket prices down by 50% in meetings, meaning they were much cheaper than any other artist at the moment. At least you could do that for your fans. 

You nodded, sniffling as you wiped your eyes on the sleeve of your dress. 

“Do you need your makeup touched up?”

“Yes,” you answered, voice hoarse. “How many more shows?” 

“This was your 97th. You have 53 left.”

“Fuck!” You groaned. “Fuck this.”

“You have the British Gran Prix tomorrow, you have to make an appearance, alright? I’m sending Maria in to fix your makeup,” Sasha was trying to pity you, but she also had a job to do, which you understood. 

“Thanks Sash,” you sighed as Maria came in. 

“Hey babe,” she smiled softly, sympathy and pity shown in her eyes. 

“Hi,” you sniffled, wiping your last tear away. 

“Let’s get you fixed up, yeah?” She started unpacking her bag with all your makeup as you nodded, turning to face her. “You’re amazing. You were so pretty tonight.”

You somehow didn’t scoff in her face. “Thanks.”

“I know you don’t believe me,” she sighed. “I can’t even understand why. You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

You hiccupped, the tears threatening to pour again as you thought about him. 

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

Stop thinking about him. You told yourself. He’s in the past.

But he wasn’t in the past, how could he be when he was always on your fucking feed with his new girlfriend. Allison and Lando, what a beautiful couple. More like a bunch of crap. They weren’t real, everyone knew it was just pr, especially considering that she was promoting her new racing movie. You had no idea why they even tried to keep up the charade. They didn’t even look good together. 

Alas, they were together, and you weren’t anymore. 

And you were going to be reminded of it every single second of the next day. 

----------------

You pressed your entry card to the barrier and walked through as cameras flashed and you smiled one of your best fake smiles.

“Y/n!” Oscar smiled, walking up and hugging you. You knew everyone, and you started to feel embarrassed about everything. This was his workplace, and you had to be here to do press and sing a song you didn’t want to sing.

Bullshit.

“Hey Osc,” you smiled, hugging him back. 

“You look so wonderful today,” he smiled, taking your hand instead. He led you to the McLaren paddock as you two chatted about tour and races. You asked about Miami, and Oscar answered. “It was the best day of his life- his words!” 

“Meeting you was the best day of my life. That’ll never change.”

Oh. I guess it changed. 

“How's the tour? It looks amazing!” He cheered as you two entered the paddock. Mechanics and engineers greeting and hugging you as you went through and lied about how ‘amazing’ the tour is. 

“Y/n!” Zak cheered. “My favourite girl!”

He pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, and you hugged back. It felt good to be back, and to still have so many people still like you. “Hi Zak.”

“I missed you so much! Please tell me that awful Allison girl is gone and you and Lan are back? She’s driving me crazy,” he scoffed.

“No, I’m just here to do some press with Ferrari,” you chuckled. “But I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to come see my favourite CEO.”

He sighed but nodded, knowing that Lando had the board cut you off the ‘influencer list’ when you two broke up. “Well, once you know that you’re my favourite.”

“You’re my favourite too,” you smiled. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Lips are sealed,” he smiled and moved on, going about his various duties. For a moment you looked around the paddock you had known so well and felt your heart ache a little. You loved Lando, you still loved Lando. You loved McLaren, and you loved the people here, yet you didn’t get to see them anymore because of the stupid fucking tour. This tour was ruining your life. You didn’t talk to family, or friends, you and Lando had broken up, you weren’t eating or sleeping, you always felt sick, you were rarely allowed to speak during the day so you could ‘conserve’ your voice for shows. 

But the worst part was that nobody noticed. 

“He's right y’know,” Oscar  smiled. “We all miss you. Even Lando.”

“Lando is with Allison. He has no reason to miss me.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “All they do is fight.”

“So? That’s what Lando and I did for weeks.”

“But it was different. You two were in a bad situation, but you loved each other, so the fights meant something. Allison and Lan are just wrong for each other, they’re fighting to fight.”

You groaned, sitting on the bench and resting your head in your hands. “When did you become a philosopher?”

Oscar laughed, and placed a hand on your back. “I’ve always been this philosophical, you were just too busy to notice.” 

“Shut up,” you chuckled, pushing him off. 

“All I’m saying is that you should talk to him, that’s all,” he shrugged, walking away from you and further into the paddock. 

“Y/n.”

Your head snapped up, so hard it hurt. There he was. Lando. For the first time in months. With Allison. And a dog.

Oh. 

“Hi,” you smiled, standing up. It was a puppy, a jack-russell terrier, the kind you’d always wanted. The kind like your childhood dog. Great, now they stole your dog breed. “Nice to see you.”

“I didn’t know you would be here,” he said bluntly. “What are you doing here?”

“Press for Ferrari. Oscar just… brought me in to say hi to everyone. So, hi. And now I’ll take my leave,” you smiled, then started to try and walk off. But Allison clearly had other plans, since she stuck out her hand for a ‘handshake’ that conveniently stopped you from walking off. 

“Allison,” she smirked. “And this is Mila.”

You stared blankly at Lando for a moment. Seriously? He’d taken the dog breed and what you’d agreed to be the name of your first child? Give me a break. 

“Y/n,” you shook her hand. “And I have to go, bye and good luck today.”

Thank god Ferrari was on the other side of the fucking track. 

“Y/n!” Charles cheered, hugging you close. You’d been getting closer with Charles since your split with Lando and his split with his ex had happened within a week of each other. “How are you?”

You took a deep breath. “I’m fine, tired.”

“I have been seeing the tour, it looks great!” he smiled, pulling back. 

“Thanks Charles, it was amazing to see you, but I better go. I have to-”

“Sing the new song? Yes! I can't wait,” he cheered. You mustered up a small smile, and left him alone. 

----------------

Sasha came and found you in the bathroom an hour later. “Y/n?” She was frantic, and stressed, so you just decided to give up and show yourself. 

“Yeah?”

“It’s time, come on,” she sighed. “I know this is hard-”

“How could you know it’s fucking hard? My entire life is in shambles and I’m supposed to be happy about it because I’m a ‘superstar’ what the fuck does that even mean? My boyfriend broke up with me because of this tour, and I thought I was going to marry him. Isn’t that insane? Isn’t that fucking crazy? And the worst part is, that I can’t even stop if I want to. I’m not allowed to stop. Sasha, how could you ever understand how hard this is for me? I’m 22. I should be in college, having fun. But instead I’m about to sing a song I don’t like or care about, in my ex-boyfriends workplace. Does that sound like fun to you, Sasha?” 

Her face was blank, stoic, unmoving. “Let’s go, you have soundcheck.”

You just followed her. Sasha was good at that, good at making you feel small, making you feel like a nuisance. The stage was big, bigger than most of your stadiums, but you didn’t care. You just had to get through it. 

“Have you eaten?”

“Feel sick,” you replied. “No thanks.”

Sasha sighed. “You’re going to faint one day.”

“Let’s hope I never wake up,” you replied dryly. Sasha scoffed and walked on, showing you the layout of the stage. You followed and asked questions, getting into ‘work mode’, and warming up your voice as you went along. A small crowd of the driver’s was gathering, even Lando was standing there, front row, just like he used to. 

You wanted to punch him, in all honesty. How could someone do that? He had no fucking right to stand there and watch you sing. He should be with Allison. 

“Start when you’re ready,” Sasha called and you nodded. 

The music started, and you were off. When the music started, you became someone else. You were moving around, laughing with your band, smiling. It was nice. Even if you hated the tour, you felt free on stage. Even if the song was sad. 

‘Champagne problems’, you’d written it right after your break up with Lando, it was new, and it had just been released. It had become the top of the charts in 15 countries. It would be on your next album, 

‘What if it doesn’t get easier like everybody says?’, and it was your most raw album. It was clearly all about your break up with Lando, there was no denying that. 

The song ended and the entire track clapped. You stopped moving when you spotted Lando’s parents, and you realised very quickly that you had to get out of there. 

You ran to the Ferrari hospitality, did some promos for your next album with them, and suddenly it was time to sing for real. The stands were full, the microphone was on, and the spotlight was on you. 

“Hi everyone,” you smiled, and the crowd erupted in cheering. “How are we feeling today?”

You had worn a short red dress, for Ferrari, and it was sparkling in the late afternoon sunshine. Everyone could see how beautiful you looked. Your hair perfectly styled, your makeup flawless, your beautiful face. 

Lando was entranced. 

You started singing and you sounded like an angel, truely. Lando had always thought you sounded otherworldly. He knew it was about him. He knew he’d fucked up. He knew he missed you. He knew it was too late, and that was the worst part. 

“Thank you so much for coming out and listening to my dumb sad song,” you chuckled as the crowd cheered. “But I have something else for you,” you were cut off by excited fans. I have something just a little bit happier, it’s called ‘Lover’. Please enjoy!”

Lando watched you as you danced around the stage, and he felt something dark growing in his stomach. You weren’t talking about him. It was someone new. You were seeing someone new. 

You couldn’t be seeing someone new, you’d been in a new city every few days. You couldn’t make it work with him, you were never on your phone, so it couldn’t be online. How did this happen?

You finished your song, and you left the stage. You fell into a chair and passed out. Maybe not eating was a bad idea? Probably. 

“Y/n,” Sasha shook you awake. “Someone’s here to see you.”

“I feel like shit-”

“We all do. Let’s go.”

And you followed. Because you had to. What else were you supposed to do but follow? Was this your life now? Taking orders and following them. 

“Now, you have to be nice to everyone, even Lando and Allison, alright?” she turned to you, stopping in front of the door. 

“I really don’t feel well,” you tried to protest. “Can I grab something to eat first?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’ll be 15 minutes, you’ll survive,” she sighed, opened the door, and pushed you into the room.

The drivers and their partners all cheered, happy to see you back in the paddock. 

“Y/n! I missed you so much!” Carmen immediately pulled you into a hug.

“I missed you too,” you smiled, even if it was forced. You needed to sit down, you needed a drink, and you needed to be alone. 

“Some pretty amazing songs!” George cheered, patting you on the back. 

“Thanks George,” you smiled. Soon you were all sitting on the various couches and chatting, even if you didn’t speak. Lando’s eyes were glued to his hands as Allison’s eyes were glued to you. She was practically sitting on him, on the verge of straddling him if you looked in their direction again. She didn’t know it, but you were looking at the door behind them, wondering when you’d be called. It had surpassed the 15 minute mark, and you felt yourself getting more and more faint as time went on. 

“Y/n?” Allison cut across Daniel chatting to you about your latest show in Manchester, remembering a story of the two of you when you were there, and telling it to the group. “How’s the tour going?”

You cleared your throat. “Well, thanks,” you smiled shyly. 

“So the rumours that you haven’t been performing to your full capabilities aren't true? Like I’ve heard you’ve been lip syncing,” she smirked as the rest of the drivers and wags just looked at her with disgust. Oscar rolled his eyes. He’d been sick of her for weeks, and he was usually quite good with people he didn’t like, but he hated her. So did Lily. 

You gulped. “I don’t lip sync, but obviously 97 shows in 113 days is quite a lot for my voice, so I don’t always sing my super vocally- challenging songs every night or else I’d have to go on vocal rest all the time,” you explained, feeling the change in energy in the room. 

“And that would just be horrible, right guys?” She turned to Lando with a smirk on her face, but he was just looking down, embarrassed by her. “I’m a huge fan of your music, how much of it is about Lando?-”

“What the fuck?” George stood up with Carmen by his side. “Allison, what is your problem with her?”

“It’s just a question!” Allison defended as Lando got up and left. She looked a lot less imposing with Lando gone. “He’s my boyfriend now!”

“Yeah, we wish he wasn’t,” Lewis said under his breath.

“Guys, it’s fine,” you just wanted to leave. “Some of my songs are, because I like to put my feelings into music, right? But not all of them, because my life doesn’t revolve around Lando, it never did. I am more than my relationships, and you’d do good to remember that for yourself. Don’t let love become who you are, it doesn’t end well.”

With that, you got up and left. You didn’t care anymore. You didn’t care if Sasha screamed at you, you didn’t care if they all came running after you. 

It was done. You and Lando were over. Was it your choice? No. Was it a choice you had to deal with? Yes. His choice. Yet, everyone had looked to you for answers. ‘What happened?’ ‘Was it going downhill?’ or your personal favourite; ‘Did he get bored?’.

You didn’t know. All you knew was that one moment, you were with him, and the next you weren’t. 

You ran to your dressing room and lay down, eating some random snacks you found. You felt better after eating, you felt-

Knock knock. 

“Come in!” You called, not caring much about who it was.

“Hi,” Lando’s voice was small and quiet. 

You sat up, staring at him. 

“Beautiful songs,” he smiled softly. “Missed hearing you sing.”

You nodded. “Good luck today.”

“Thanks,” he sighed. “I'm sorry about Allison, she’s the fucking worst.” 

You chuckled softly. “I’m sorry you’re dating her.”

He cracked a soft smile, then it fell. “Who’s the new lucky guy for you?” He watched as your face fell. 

“No… no new guy, just an old one I wrote back at the start of… us…” you trailed off. 

His heart was shattering, watching you be treated like this. Watching from afar as you lost your mind, lost your life, over a fucking tour. He saw the soulless look in your eyes, the dropped weight, the dampened smiles, all of it. He was shocked that other people couldn’t see it too. He’d regretted breaking up with you since the moment he did it. He was haunted by the way you begged him to stay, and he questioned how he’d ever said no to you. How was he so blind-sighted? How did he not see how much pressure you were under? How did he not see that he was what was keeping you above ground? 

“Oh,” he breathed out. 

You took a deep breath. “I’m releasing an album soon, and a lot of the songs are about our relationship,” you explained hesitantly. “I wanted to offer you a chance to listen to it before it goes out, just as a… heads-up? In case you’re worried about what’s on it.”

God, punching him square in the face would hurt less than watching you feel awkward around him. He cleared his throat. “Oh umm…yeah. I’d like that. Thank you.”

You nodded and got up, taking a cd out of your backpack. “Here you go. Sorry again, about… everything.” 

“I’m sorry too,” he nodded. “So, are you leaving now or…?”

“No, I’m holding the chequered flag today, so I’ll be up at race control,” you explained, trying to look anywhere other than him. “And I’m handing off the 1st place trophy.”

“Maybe I’ll be first to see you,” he chuckled. 

“Maybe,” you shrugged. 

“The tour looks… awful. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” he spoke after a minute’s silence. 

You just shrugged. “Not your fault,” you lied. 

He knew this was when he was meant to leave, but he wasn’t sure when you two would be in the same room again. He didn’t know when he’d see you again, so he took a moment to fully take you in. “You were really incredible today. You sounded like an-”

“Angel? Thanks Lando, see you soon,” you nodded, finishing the compliment you always used to get from him. He nodded and left, realising he had no more time. 

When the door closed you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. How could he do that? How could he stand there and be nice to you, after what he said that night? After what he fucking put you through?

----------------

Weeks of complaining from him, blaming you for his performance in races, telling you that you needed to be there for him, not calling you back, not texting back, not listening when you told him about how awful everything was going. 

“I’m sorry Lan, I know how hard this is. It’s hard for me too-”

“How the fuck can you say that? You’re the one who choose to do this, you fucking decided to tear us apart! This is all your fault, and you’re telling me it’s ‘hard’ for you. What is hard for you? Spending all your time with adoring fans? Being on stage and living your dreams? Being away from me?”

“Lan, you know better than anyone that I didn’t want this tour to happen,” you cried. Even then, even 48 shows in, you were being driven crazy. You were exhausted, you missed home, and you missed Lando. “I had no choice-”

“You had every fucking choice! And don’t give me that fucking bullshit about your label forcing you, we both know that’s a fucking lie!” he shouted. You hated it when he shouted, when anyone shouted. He had no fucking right to speak to you like that. You didn’t want this to happen, you had no say, you just had a contract and an incompetent lawyer to thank.

“I don’t know what you want me to say to that,” you shrugged, your voice breaking. “I love you, and I miss you. We can make this work Lan, I just need time to figure it out, alright? I just need time-”

“Yeah? Well I’ve given you all the time I have to give. We’re done, I bet I could find a million girls just like you, girls who would actually take my feelings into account before she made huge life decisions!” he scoffed.

“Lando, please don’t do this. I-I don’t know what- I- Lan please, I need you,” you pleaded. “I’m trying my best I swear-”

“Your best isn’t good enough.”

And he hung up.

----------------

The fallout of your relationship didn’t exactly go great either. A day later your feed was flooded with pictures of Lando out with someone else. One day later. 

What the fuck? Didn’t he care? Didn’t he love you?

Well, apparently not. 

----------------

Lando knew he wouldn’t see you again for months. This was his only fucking chance to speak to you, to see you, and instead, he stayed in his driver’s room listening to the heart-wrentching songs you’d written about him. God, if he thought ‘champagne problems’ was devastating, ‘cowboy like me’ was worse. It was a long album, almost 2 hours long. It spanned your entire relationship, starting out, your first date, your grammy win, his podiums, the hate you two got, the start of the fighting, the end of the relationship, and the after. It was awful reliving it from your perspective, especially since you had tried to tell him, and every time he’d pick a fight. 

“Lando?” Oscar’s voice came from outside his door. “Allison’s looking for you.”

“Tell her to piss off!”

“You can do that, mate,” he scoffed and walked off, into his own driver’s room. 

“Lan?” Her voice rang out, and he wanted to scream. He had put himself in this position, he knew it,  but it was still difficult to fully self-actualise his own shortcomings. 

“What?” he groaned, opening the door. 

“The other girls are excluding me,” she pouted. 

“I wonder why,” Lando rolled his eyes. “They love Y/n.”

Her face fell into a frown. “But you love me, so they should love me. They keep going off to find her and talk to her, and any time I try to tell them that I’m uncomfortable around her, they tell me not to come.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” he sighed. 

“Talk to their boyfriends, ask them to include me!”

“Babe, I have a fucking race today, please leave me alone,” he sighed. He pushed past her to walk to the paddock, knowing he just had to keep his head down and race today, he just had to do the one thing he was good at. 

“Well, what am I supposed to do for the rest of the day?” 

“I don’t know,” he grunted, and moved on. The garage was somehow too loud yet not loud enough to drown out the negative thoughts in his head. Recent months had been difficult. Races were taking more and more out of him, he was lonely, and if he wasn’t training or racing, he was looking at old photos of you or watching the tour. He could see how you deflated as you left the stage, how upset you looked going on stage. It was all a terrible reminder of how selfish he’d been. How hadn’t he seen it? Why didn’t he listen? 

He remembered telling Max what had happened. He’d gotten so angry, begging him to call you back and apologise. He’d been so blindsighted, he wouldn’t listen to Max. Why was Max always right?

“You good?” Oscar asked, a hand on his shoulder to drag him out of his thousand-yard stare. 

Lando sighed. “Good,” he lied, and it wasn’t convincing. Everyone knew what you were to him. You grounded him, you knew him, every single part of him. You loved him. “You?”

“Good. Y/n’s set was great earlier,” he offered a small smile. “At least you have a good break-up album, right?”

Lando cracked a small smile. Oscar was good at that, making him laugh when he was down. “Yeah, it feels great when it’s about you.”

Oscar chuckled. “Story for the grandkids,” he shrugged. “Don’t sweat it.”

Lando nodded. 

“Oh yeah,” Oscar added. “When you left, Allison asked Y/n what songs were about you, so just… expect that conversation with her, I guess? I’m not entirely sure what’ll happen-”

“What did Y/n say?”

Oscar swallowed. “Something like; ‘some of my songs are, ‘cause I like to put my emotions into music. But not all of them, because my life doesn’t revolve around Lando, it never did. I am more than my relationships, and you’d do good to remember that for yourself’.”

Lando nodded, and could tell by the look on Oscar’s face that he was holding something back. “That’s it?”

“‘Don’t let love become who you are, it doesn’t end well’,” Oscar finished. “Then she left.”

Lando nodded as the weight on his chest got heavier. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Of course,” Oscar offered a pity-smile and walked off to his side of the garage. 

Lando was always a person to be stuck inside his own head. He wasn’t good at expressing his feelings. He didn’t know how to talk about them. Yet, you always knew how to get him to talk. You always had the right solution, the right thing to say, the right face to make. He was in awe of you, so effortlessly perfect. 

He remembered back to Greece, back in the off-season, before the tour, before the season started. Before he fucked everything up. 

----------------

You smiled as he pulled you closer. The air was anything but cold, and the water was still. There you two sat, sitting on the bow of the as the sun set. The clear water beneath the yacht you’d been on for the past few days was calm and steady, lulling you both into an unmistakable tiredness. Yte, Lando wanted to stay up, wanting to soak up as much time with you as he could. He was going to miss you so much this season. You hadn’t ever been to every race in a season, you were a busy person, he understood that. He was a busy person too. But you’d go to as many races as possible. Now, ‘as many races as possible’ means about 4. Stupid tour. 

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, your eyes closed as you soaked in the moment. You leant against his chest as you lay in his arms, your favourite place to be. 

“How much I’ll miss you this year,” he admitted. There was never any point in lying to you, you always knew. 

You pressed a kiss to his arm. “I’ll miss you too.”

You were straight forward with things, he loved that. It was a bad situation. You were off to a tour you didn’t want to do, and he was off to another season. 

“I love you,” he confessed. He said it a lot, but it always felt special. He made you feel special. You made him feel special.

“I love you,” you opened your eyes, a smile on your lips. You spoke again after a few moments of silence. “You’re going to win a race this season, I can tell.”

He chuckled. “Once I get back home to you, I don’t care if I win.”

You laughed. “Sure, we all believe you.”

He smiled. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You looked at him for a moment, that perfect, soft smile on your face. “Ditto,” you laughed as he did too. Your laugh was melodic, his favourite sound. 

“Who says ‘ditto’ to that?!” he laughed.

“I do,” you chuckled. 

You two locked eyes for a moment, then he leant down and pressed his lips to yours, soft and sweet. 

The perfect night. 

----------------

He caught a glance of your red dress walking into the garage. 

“Y/n!” The engineers cheered. He heard your laughter. 

The room was a collection of cheers and conversation, and he wanted more than anything to be able to walk over to you and hold you, and kiss you, and tell everyone to leave you alone because you were his girlfriend, not theirs. 

You walked in with a smile on your face. That smile dropped in half a second. Everyone was talking, everyone was patting you on the back, everyone was looking at you. You caught a glance of Lando and immediately felt the pit in your stomach grow. Everyone knew everything, everyone looked at you. Everyone blamed you. Oscar wrapped his arm around you and walked you through the garage as he saw you getting overwhelmed. He’d learnt the signs from his little sisters. Blown out pupils, teary eyes, tight features, heavy breathing. Oscar had always been a great friend to you, he’d always cared for you. He brought you through, doing most of the talking if anyone stopped you two and let you in his driver’s room, promising to grab you when you could leave without being bombarded by crew, or the press. 

Lando followed behind after a few minutes, then knocked on the door. He knew how to calm you down, he was probably the only person who did. 

Oscar opened the door looking panicked. “She’s having a panic attack,” he whispered. 

Lando nodded and walked in, taking your hand in his as you hid your face in your other hand. He knelt beside you on the floor as you sat on the bed. “It’s me baby, I’m right here. Come on, squeeze my hand,” he said, voice steady. You didn’t. “You need to start breathing properly, squeeze my hand like I’m squeezing yours,” He put some light pressure on your hand, which jump-started you into squeezing his hand as hard as you could. It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair. You hated how well he knew you. You wanted him to not know you, to not understand you and your body better than you did. “Just like that,” he cooed. He pressed your hand to his chest, where you could feel his steady and calm breathing, feel his regular heartbeat. It was in stark contrast to you. The thump of your own heartbeat in your ears, the quick breathing, the erratic heart. “Breathe with me. Please baby,” his voice was soft and comforting. You tried, gently slowing your breathing down to normal. The adrenaline was still rushing through your body as you calmed down. Oscar offered you a water bottle and you let go of Lando’s hand to take it. 

“I shouldn’t have come here, I’m sorry,” you said, sounding smaller than ever. “Zak said he wanted to see me after my set. I should’ve just said no.”

“You’re always welcome here,” Oscar placed a hand on your shoulder. “Seriously.”

“We want you here,” Lando added. The air was sucked from the room. “I want you here.”

“You don’t,” you refuted. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Lando sighed. “Let me walk you back to Ferrari, please?”

You shook your head, finally looking up and making eye contact with him. “You and I both know how that’ll go.”

Lando nodded, his heart breaking for the thousandth time. It’s hard to find an end to something you never want to let go of. “Ok,” he whispered, his emotions getting the better of him. 

“Goodbye Lando,” you sighed, then took Oscar’s arm and let him lead you back to Ferrari. 

----------------

“I’m sorry about Lando,” Oscar sighed as you two walked up to the entrance to Ferrari. “About the break up, now, and basically everything in between. He’s been… difficult recently. He’s always been a ‘glass half empty’ kind of guy I guess… I just… you made him better, y’know?”

You chuckled sadly. “Thank you for apologising, but you don’t have to. Lando is an adult, so am I. Things just… end sometimes. Him and I just aren’t meant to be.”

Oscar cocked an eyebrow. “I think we both know that’s not true.”

You didn’t know how to respond. Oscar had never been this straightforward with you, and he sure as hell had never broached this topic before. You just nodded and took his hand. “Thanks for helping me.”

And then you walked back to Ferrari. 

Oscar did get one thing right, Lando wasn’t done with you. Maybe it was seeing you again, maybe it was the album, maybe it was Allison, maybe it was all of it, he didn’t know. But what he did know was that he was still in love with you. He’d never stopped. How could he? He missed everything about you, your lips, your smile, your kindness, the way you’d make him laugh, the way you’d make him smile. Everything. He missed listening to you sing, seeing you on a stage that you wanted to be on. Seeing you get to be you. 

----------------

The Silverstone after-party with Charles who dragged you along. You’d thought it would be a bad idea, but when you were already 8 shots deep, you didn’t really notice. Yuki had pulled you away to sing a karaoke duet with him as Pierre and Charles laughed at you both, and you somehow ended up outside on the balcony with Carlos, both of you laughing at something random. 

“Y/n!” Lando cheered, clearly as drunk as you. A part of you had forgotten about everything before this moment, like you were seeing him for the first time. Perfect, with his curls, unbuttoned shirt, and damn pretty smile. “I didn’t know you were here!” 

“Lan!” you cheered, pulling him in for a hug. Carlos gave you both a very confused look, but was called away by Charles for a game of beer pong. Surprisingly, these ‘fancy’ parties usually just turned into something out of a frat house in Florida. Maybe it was just Logan’s presence. “How are you?” You slurred. 

“I feel great!” he shouted. “We should go for a walk!” 

“Yes!” you agreed. 

----------------

And that’s how you ended up back in his hotel room making out with him on his bed as he pulled your dress off. Funny how things can happen when you’re actually 18 shots deep, not 8. Oops?

“So pretty,” he murmured into your neck as he settled you on his lap. “So pretty for me.”

You laughed into his mouth, pulling back. “Lan, speed up.”

He smirked at you, his eyes heavy, then pressed his lips to yours again. He fully pulled your dress off of you as you started making quick work of his belt and trousers. 

“Fuck me,” you whispered in his ear and he let out a low moan. “Please Lan.”

He didn’t waste time. 

----------------

You woke up the next morning with a blinding headache, and a very naked Lando Norris beside you. You had to leave. You’d just fucked him, and he had a girlfriend. You were a homewrecker. You didn’t know if the sudden urge to vomit came up because of that, or the 18 shots of straight vodka you did the night before. 

You quickly grabbed your clothes, shoes, one of his hoodies, and tried to salvage whatever dignity you had left, then made a swift exit. It was still dark out and you were just praying that you could get through the 2 blocks you had to walk to your hotel without running into someone, or running into cameras. You quickly dialled Sasha’s number and tried to stop yourself from crying. You just pray you two used protection, or fell asleep before doing anything real.

“Morning?” she answered groggily. 

“Sasha I did something really fucking stupid,” you admitted, the tears welling up in your eyes as you walked into the lobby of your hotel. “And I don’t know what to do.”

“Come to my room, we’ll sort it out,” she sighed. “You’ll be ok kiddo, I promise.”

----------------

You knocked on her hotel room door, tears in your eyes. 

“It’s 5 am,” she stated, opening the door. 

You rushed in, bursting into tears. “I think I fucked Lando, I mean- I-I think we fucked, last night- we were so drunk a-and then I don’t re-remember,” you hiccuped. “I’m so fucking stupid!”

She put a hand on your shoulder, sighing. “That was a very stupid thing to do,” she nodded. “But it’s not the end of the world. Did you use protection?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll go get Plan B, you stay here. Get changed into some pyjamas. Get some water, relax. Just don’t leave the hotel, yeah?”

“Alright,” you agreed. She left for the door. “Sash?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you said in a small voice. She offered you a pitying smile, and went on her way. 

----------------

Months passed and you both went on with your lives. He didn’t reach out, you didn’t either. Sadly, you were in fact a homewrecker. A week after ‘the incident’ Allison and Lando broke up. You truthfully felt so ashamed and awful for the girl. It wasn’t right what you two had done, and truly, you were insanely drunk. In no world would you fuck Lando Norris sober. 

The tour had finally ended, and your world was no longer turned upside down. You were working on new music, healing your body after all the travel and abuse you put it through, and continuing to try and get over Lando. 

It hurt like a bitch. He hurt like a bitch. 

----------------

Lando two-wins. Contender in the Championship. Supposedly dating someone. Last Lap Lando.

Lonely Lando, more like. Max Fewtrell had decided to stage an intervention and join him for the rest of the races, worried about his mental state. Since seeing you again, he’d been… less than alright. He’d talk about you all the time, stalk your instagram (to the point that Max took his phone off of him in Greece), and generally just think about you a lot. It was coming up to the album drop, and you were having your launch party in Italy. The same weekend as the race. All because Charles wanted to come. 

Shit was bound to go down, and no one was more excited than Hallie. 

You were dressed to the nines, nervous and excited. You’d fired half of your team, you’d dropped your old label, and you’d become… happier? That couldn’t be right, not when you felt the oppressive weight of your own regret on your chest everyday. Not when you woke up reaching for Lando. Not when you watched every single race and couldn’t look away until he was safely across that damn finish line. 

You were surviving. That’s the best you could do. 

----------------

“You look beautiful,” Charles smiled as he walked into the party. The night had gone off without a hitch so far. A select group of fans, influencers, celebrities, and almost all the drivers were mingling with one another, and not one sighting of Lando Norris. Not that you didn’t miss his face, or him in general. You did. More than you’d ever thought possible to miss someone.  

“Thanks Charles,” you smiled, pulling him into a hug. “You look great too.”

He smiled and beside him, Alexandria smiled at you, then pulled you into a hug. You continued the superficial chatting for a few moments, just hoping Charles wouldn’t ask the dreaded question. 

He looked at you for a second too long, and you knew it was coming. “Are you alright?” God, why did he have to ask stupid fucking questions? Obviously you weren’t alright. Obviously, if you could, you would run away. Obviously, you were drowning. 

Didn’t he see that? Didn’t anyone notice? Didn’t anyone care?

Apparently not. 

You nodded, putting on your best fake smile. “Just nervous.”

He nodded. It was enough to fool him. 

The night went on in a flurry of uncomfortable small talk, ridiculous requests from your most esteemed guests, and it was finally time to start listening to the album. You stood on stage, a nervous smile on your face as everyone looked at David, your producer, who was speaking in length about how proud of the record he was, and how proud he was of you. Everything was perfect. Everything was right in the world. 

But, of course, because he had to always be the centre of your universe, Lando walked in. 

And you were fucked. Every single breathing technique you’d learnt, every single pressure point tapping you’d done, it all left your head. Everything stopped. You stopped breathing. You stopped. 

But it didn’t feel wrong. It didn’t feel bad to have him there. It felt awfully, and soul-crushingly, right. Lando was always meant to be there, a devastating realisation that you didn’t exactly want to make while on stage in front of 200 people. 

“Any words, Y/n?” David asked, passing you the mic. 

You looked at Lando and he smiled, waving at you. You smiled back. 

“Please enjoy this album, it’s from a very important time of my life where I finally learnt what it meant to be in love, and be loved wholly in return. Obviously, it didn’t end very well, and that’s when I learnt what grieving someone was. I still have a lot of love for him, probably more than I should. But I have it. And I had nowhere to put it, so I put it to music, which is really the only thing I think I’ll ever truly understand. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you understand it,” You explained to the crowd. You watched Lando the entire time, looking at how his eyes lit up when you talked about your relationship. Lando had always cared about you. He always would. 

The opening cords of the first song started playing, and the attention was off of you. The crowd just closed their eyes and listened. You exited the stage and joined the crowd, desperately trying to get out of there. You stood on the balcony as the music blasted inside. People danced along, sang along as they started learning the words, and you stayed outside, tears falling. 

“You’re beautiful,” Lando’s whisper made you jump. You turned to see him, standing there behind you. “The album’s beautiful.”

You scoffed. “The album’s an album. What was beautiful was us,” you sighed. “Thank you for coming.”

He nodded, leaning against the barrier beside you. “Do you even wish our lives weren’t as complicated as they are?”

You chuckled. “More than anything.”

“We were beautiful,” he shook his head, trying to remember why he ever ruined the best thing in his life. “If you ever find yourself wanting to love me again, just… call me?”

You nodded, looking at him. “I will.”

He nodded, putting his hand on your shoulder and letting it sit there for a split-second, just to remind him of what it was like to touch you. Just to remind himself that once, he didn’t have to wonder if you loved him, to remind him of the unwavering support you gave him, to remind him of how his whole world came crashing down when he made you leave it. “I love you,” he whispered before walking to the door. 

His phone started ringing in his pocket as he got back inside. Unknown number. He answered it. 

“I think I want to love you again,” he could hear your smile through the phone and he immediately whipped around, his smile growing as he got closer to you. When he stood in front of you again, you both took the phones down and smiled at each other.

Lando didn’t waste time. He closed the gap between you two in one simple stride, wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed his lips to yours. “I love you so much,” he pulled back. “I’m never letting you go again.”

----------------

landonorris

1,488,928 likes | liked by oscarpiastri, y/ny/l/n, and others

love of my life. @ y/ny/l/n

comments

user28: WHAT THE FUCK THEY BROKE UP MONTHS AGO THO????-> user92: they were seen kissing at her launch party

y/ny/l/n: who's that pretty girl? -> oscarpiastri: she's too good for him -> landonorris: >:( -> oscarpiastri: hurt her again and I push you off the track. ->carlossainz: I second this -> charleslecerc: I third this -> alexalbon: I fourth this -> georgerussell: I fifth this.

georgerussell: Trying to beat me with no shirt?

lewishamilton: Yay! (I begged her not to take you back you asshole). -> pierregasly: Yay! (I'm trying to be supportive of her).

lilymhe: fuck off. ->user83: LMAO -> user18: DAMN EVERYONE HATES HIM

danielriccardo: HAHAHAHAHAH (I'm crying.)

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[kisspurins]

hold me tight 𓍯𓂃 𓏧 ♡

୨୧ pairings｜bestfriend! anton x reader

୨୧ wc｜3.3k

୨୧ warnings｜smut with plot，dubcon，mentions drinking，mouth fucking with fingers，spit play (kinda)，size kink，frat boy!anton，fat cock anton，unprotected sex，tongue kissing，thigh riding，praising，crying，dumbification，breeding

you didn't think much of it when anton invited you to his frats house party.

you've known anton since freshman year when you were taller than him and he had a buzz cut from a stupid dare he followed through with the day before school started back. he'd been someone you always took the role of protecting before he grew into his looks and puberty hit him mid sophomore year and suddenly he was towering over you instead. anton has always been sweet but after he joined swimming and left your social circle, slowly that facade became apart of him only you knew and thats what kept you close.

so there was no surprise when he showed up to your dorm room asking if you wanted to be his plus one to his frats yearly welcoming party.

"please the guys always ask about you!" raising up from your bed you give him a look, brows furrowed, "the guys know about me?" without thinking your best friend was nodding, "yeah I talk about you all the time." his sentence came out rushed and when he realized what he just said he stopped his pacing around your room turning to face you.

"not—" "really? what do you tell them?" you interrupted, big smile spreading your face as he stumbled over his words. anton huffed, cheeks tinted a light red when he looked you in the eye. "are you coming or not?" you shrug twisting the strings dangling on your shorts with your finger. "I'll come but you better not leave me."

you should've known better than to trust anton of all people to stick beside you at a party.

the room was hotter than you expected it to be, even with the windows open to let the night air circulate, there was too many sweaty bodies pressing against each other to cool down the room. sometime in the beginning you had already lost sight of anton to some sorority girl, and unlike him, one thing you aren't interested in is sucking up to some people you know you'll never talk to again after college. the red plasic cup in your hand, your second one, is empty from your nervous sipping, leaving your head cloudy and vision blurry. and the flashing lights made everything 10x worse for your headache, not to mention how impossible it is to find anton like this.

you remember how much you hate being a lightweight while you sloppily stumble through the crowd. you pushed yourself down the hallway, hands pressed into the wall while you made your way further down to antons room. you weren't very familiar with frat parties since you decided against joining in on the weekly mixers after a one night stand you couldn't remember, but you did know your way around antons frat house. hes sneaked you in a couple times while his friends were out claiming "if they saw a pretty girl like you, they would ravage you." and you didn't fight him on it.

you're two seconds away from almost throwing yourself into anton's door when it opens, flinging you to collide against someones hard chest. "I'm soooo sorry!" you gapsed, hands reaching to feel on the person who protected your fall, "I was just about to come find you."

pausing for a moment you look up, giggling when you notice you're feeling up on anton. "there you aree! you got so big tonieee?" "you're drunk already? I barely left you alone."

If you were sober you would've recognized the worry in his voice, but all you can think about now is how sweet it is, like he uses the most gentle tone he has only for you. “Its been half an hour dummy…” you trailed off, "left me alone for that long!"

“I'm sorry angel.”

“It's okayy!"

you catch the "angel" too late. eyes fluttering up at him while you melt into his arms wrapped securely around your waist, hoping he couldn’t tell in the dark entryway how that one word made you feel so gushy.

"gonna take you inside okay?" you nod to his words. there wasn’t much space between you two at all, the tips of your feet only a few inches apart. anton sat you on his bed, running to turn on his lamp instead of the big light because you were already having trouble focusing. across from you, anton leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. It was easy to look at him. he was so enamoring. everything about him was all consuming.

"how many drinks did you have? do you want water to sober you up?"

you shake your head no, leaning back to snuggle up in his bed. "m fine right here." anton doesn't protest, just hums before he's walking up to you and slipping in the empty space next to you. purposely laying on the edge so you can't fall if you were to drunkenly roll over. "can I hold you?" he asks, voice light and clear, "you don't need to say yes if you don't want to right now." you consider, thinking about giggling at anton and wrapping yourself up in his embrace, becoming another one of his easy girls he can cross off a list. but you also think about how you've been friends with anton this long and hes never been a bad guy. how you know for sure he wouldn't hurt you, or use and leave you. "okay but you have to hold me tight."

anton hummed in response again then his strong arms were holding you to his chest. you feel the vibrations from him talking on your back and it's enough that it almost rocked you right to sleep. "what happened to the girl?" you asked, sudden curiosity peaking your interest. "she wanted to get high and have a quick fuck." you peeked over your shoulder when he spoke, his words lingering for a bit. you didn't know what to say to that. sorry? oh cool? you rake your head for something, anything, but anton was already clearing his throat, "I stopped smoking." "oh" "yeah"

you two didn't speak anymore after that. your head stayed drifting from the alcohol and anton just held you like this was natural for him and it probably was. he was so warm you could practically feel the heat radiating off his body making you unbelievably sticky. and maybe the alcohol was making your talk so bold, you spoke without realizing. "can I take off this dress? it's so hot tonie." you whined a little shuffling around. anton pressed his fingers deep into your hips stopping your movements, "will you chill out?" he asked between gritted teeth. "why?" you teased, quickly forgetting all about the stickiness you felt. "gonna pop a boner over this?" you said swiveling your hips making sure to directly press against his crotch more. "you're drunk yn," he hissed, "you don't know the things I'm capable of doing to you."

"what're you gonna do? take advantage of me?" anton’s eyes are dark as he listens to you, hands already working to flip you over. face to face with him now, your confidence slips. "what—what are you doing tonie?" his hands sneak up to cup your face, one of his thumbs caressing across your cheek. "shhh it'll be okay. don't you trust me?" you've never doubted anton.

the thumb caressing your cheek inches its way to your lips and instinctively your mouth drops open for him. "awww, been waiting for me?” you whine when he teases and doesn't press his thumb on your tongue like you wanted. "don't you have manners baby?" you whimper at his words. his voice is so much deeper then you were used to, sharp and assertive. "please tonieee... need your fingers please please?"

anton knows in the morning you'll be scared and confused waking up naked next to him. the thought of your wide teary eyes while you try to remember what you did last night, it turned him on. being able to have you like this was a rare opportunity and what kind of friend would he be not to take care of you when you're begging for him so much?

"you're such a good girl. the sweetest girl ever." your face lights up when anton is sweet, eyes practically sparkling when you stick out your tongue waiting for him.

anton caresses your cheek again, this time pushing his thumb to glide over your top lip knowing you would get more impatient waiting. your mouth is warm and pretty, so delicate hes afraid he'll break you when he presses his thumb on your tongue and you gag just from the touch. his heartbeat is loud in his ears as he watches you resisting the urge to wrap your lips around him. "fuck," he gasps pushing further back and your eyes get watery. "go ahead baby."

immediately you're wrapping your lips around his thumb humming in satisfaction. your tongue swirls around his finger and anton swears he can feel his dick twitching. and just to be mean, he pulls out his finger. you whine in protest, head falling forward a little to chase after him and before you can vocalize your feelings, anton's pushing his index and middle finger back past your pretty lips. he almost forgets theres still a party going on just a few doors down, indecent noises of suction blocking out the faded music in the background.

"you're so perfect," anton breathes out, starting to fuck your mouth open with his fingers. spit starts leaking at the corner of your mouth, dripping onto his wrist. you're so shameless when your mouth is full, eyes closed and hips bucking. anton can't stop himself from commenting. "all this time all i had to do to shut you up was stuff your mouth?" you're too hypnotised by the feel of his fingers going in and out of your mouth to register anything he says.

"come on baby," anton mumbles pulling out his fingers as slow as possible and still you break out into a fit of tears, breathing hard and pulling for his hand again. "wh—what! no! no no tonie please!" "shhh don't have to make this hard." he coos to try to calm you down. It works for a second but then you're crying again shuffling closer to him.

"don't be a crybaby. I promise I'm gonna take care of you, pretty." anton says, hands working down your body to grope your ass. you whine when he squeezes, teary eyes focusing up at him. "not a crybaby! you're just so—" your words get stuck in your throat when he inches your dress up, "mhm?" "so mean." you huff and he laughs, hands gripping your ass again. "always wanted to do this to you.." your thighs clench together when he says that and like he expected it, he was prying them open with this thigh replacing the space himself.

"ton.." you drag out, your hips unconsciously moving slowly on his thigh. anton was quick to catch the hint, lifting his leg up a bit more to give you more friction as you grind harder, your body moving on it’s own as you ramble incoherently. “I know baby, couldn't help yourself. just a dumb little thing huh?" you shake your head no, hands trembling when you reach up to pull his head closer to you. "kiss me please?" you glance from his lips to his eyes, hips starting to stutter when you make eye contact and he licks his lips, "please—please kiss me.." "you sure?" you nod eagerly closing your eyes.

the longer the wait the more your heart races. something about this situation makes you feel desperate and mushy. you've never wanted so bad for someone to kiss you and the fact that its anton makes things harder, you can barely think of anything besides how this feels so intimate. his hands move to brush your hair away from your face softly, a touch that usually doesn't affect you but then he starts tucking your stray hairs behind your ears and your heart is fluttering. he listlessly leans forward, gently pressing his lips onto yours with a light pressure. your heart skips a beat with the realisation that your best friend is kissing you on the lips. you forget all about your achy cunt when kissing him, his lips so soft and pillowy you feel yourself getting dumb.

everything feels like it’s spinning when anton slips his tongue into your mouth, trying to focus on syncing up but its hard when it feels so foreign and it makes you foggy thinking about him tasting the alcohol off your tongue. naturally, you let him take the pace and your mouths get more accustomed to one another and it makes you wonder what was so hard about this at first. the kiss is so slow and overwhelming, tongues twisting together while spit drips from the corner of your mouth. you don't notice when hes pushing himself over you, fingers hooking under the thin strap of your panties.

"knew you wanted this," anton laughed, hand dropping down to cup your cunt. "poor girl is leaking everywhere." you whinced at his words, your knees trying to knock together to squeeze and keep him there. "don't be mean" you can hear anton let out a breath before he's prying your legs open and giving your cunt a little tap. "don't do that anymore." your lip tuts out at his harsh tone. when he gets stern like that its a little scary and you can feel every fiber in your being aching to obey him. blinking up at him, you mumble a little “sorry” and let him touch you.

anton moves slowly, sliding his finger up to your swollen clit and circling it through your panties. there’s an intense amount of heat surging between you two. the way you’re positioned with him, his large frame caging you between the bed and his hand that pushes into you doesn’t help anything. you can feel yourself get more slick the more he puts pressure on your clit. "please.. need more ton,"

he hums, letting his fingers slip under your panties, now directly pressing on your nub. your back arches off the bed waiting for him to do more and he lets you get caught up. "tonie..” you whimper. he looks up from your cunt and hes so pretty your thighs twitch. “mhm?” "take clothes off please? so hot.." as soon as you utter the words, your eyes were trailing to the side, embarrassment settling in your chest.

"you're so smart baby." he says withdrawing his fingers. you stay still in your position, watching his every movement. anton is teasing when he lifts his shirt over his head, arms flexing so much it makes your mouth watery. you try to follow him, fumbling to pull off your dress in a rush while he's taking off his pants. you're moving slower than you thought because when you're done with your dress, anton is moving back in between your legs hands working to slip off your panties. your head is so consumed you just let him manhandle you, eyes fixating on his dick. so girthly and heavy resting on his stomach.

everything moves so fast when hes towering over you again, hand pressing over your tummy while he glides himself up and down your slit.

you always knew anton was big. you've spent so many nights with him, you were used to seeing him in a pair of grey sweats and those leave everything to the imagination. and with the way he talks extra cocky about himself, you had no doubt. but the feeling of his tip pressing to your hole is too much. forcing its way into your snug cunt, you gasp so sweetly, eyes watering while your hole clenches around him. your swollen lips drop into a pretty little "oh!" and he smiles.

“hnng— tonie s’too big! can't!" “you can do it for me, pretty.” his breath is hot against your ear. “I’ll make it fit.”you already feel so cockdrunk, struggling to keep your eyes open as he bullies his fat tip into your sloppy hole. anton's cock twitches so good inside you at the sight. "come on baby, stay with me." he huffs out, too stuck on the way your pussy is spread open so shamefully for him. you moan breathlessly at each push, pussy squelching while he splits you apart. you can't help but to try and squirm away. "ton... too much—" you whimpered, "really can't— ah! ah ah!" anton breaks you off, big arms wrapping around your hips so you can’t run from him. you squeal when he traps you and then he's pulling you down down down onto his thick cock.

“see pretty," he groans, bottoming out in one swift thrust "could take all of me. don't know what you're talking about." your head shakes no, the strech is enough to break you but anton's not stopping till he’s buried in your dripping cunt all the way to the hilt. you can't think. you don't even realize your tongue is sticking out until he pulls out and leans down to suck on it when he pushes back in, his balls smacking against your ass in the process. you're so overwhelmingly full of him, you can't kiss back. letting him suck n pull on the muscle.

drool drips delicately down your mouth at how animalistically he was treating your mouth. no longer sweet and gentle but instead gross and rough. pulling away from you, he smirks as he begins to pull out inch by inch agonizingly slow. "pussy belongs to me now." he hums, cock ramming into you.

the pace he starts up is numbing and makes you delirious. “oh! oh my— oh my god! nnng please!”you can do nothing but lay there and take it as anton edges you closer and closer to cumming. “gonna fill you up.” he whispers, voice raw and dripping with desperation. "need to make you mine. like that pretty? wanna be my girlfriend?" you nod eagerly, "already— already yours t—tonie!" that spurs him on. he increases his pace impossibly, so rough your skin is stinging where his balls smack your ass, fucked out little "ah! ah! ah!" leaving your lips each time his hips hit yours.  "fuck you're so cute,” he trails off dangerously, gaze unfocusing on the creamy white ring forming around his base to look in your eyes, “need you like this forever..”

“yes yes yes, please! forever please please!” hes fully intent on keeping you babbling for him or until you physically couldn't anymore, pulling one of your legs to hang off his shoulder so he can hit impossibly deeper. your eyes go wide when he starts hitting your womb, fingers digging into his arms. "right there! oh! tonie right there!" little yelps leave you, “feel you! feel it s’deep!”

“yeah? right here?” he purrs, tip pressing more into that mushy spot. his eyes are dark and glinting with something predatory as they greedily lock onto the way his cock fucks in and out of you. your body moves with every thrust, headboard knocking into the wall repeatedly you know people can hear it too. anton's thrusts get sloppy when hes close, body leaning over to groan into your ear. "gonna cum baby?" you wrap your arms around his torso to pull him closer, needing to feel his heart beating against yours before pressing your lips to his cheek. "cumming tonie!!"

you cum so hard your body shakes in anton's arms, not registering that he just came inside at this point, too exhausted and cock drunk that all you can feel is anton pulsing inside you. "ton.... s'much— inside so— so much.." you moan softly, words slurring together. sloppy hole quivering at the feeling of being so overfilled. “I know baby,” he whispers, voice light and sweet again. he waits patiently for you to unlatch for him so he can clean you up, not wanting to accidentally trigger you. instead of lessening your grip, you snuggle more into him.

"please just hold me tight?"

© KISSPURINS 2024 ✿

[nereidprinc3ss]

andromeda | (dybmn? bonus)

a bonus vignette from spencer's POV. we find out how he really feels about reader. takes place the day before the argument at the bar.

note: this is not part six! takes place between parts four and five.

series masterlist

18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, semi-graphic descriptions of sexual fantasies, some angst, you're not actually present, mention of alcohol, very vague discussions of murdery stuff bc he's supposed to be working, sassy spencer makes an appearance a/n: for all my angels who said they wanted a snippet of spencer's POV! i'm sorry if i'm overdoing it with this story or clogging the spencer tags, i'm just having a lot of fun! i hope you enjoy or that this may be clears some things up for you, pls lmk your thoughts:) ily!!!

Spencer is incessantly drumming the particle board table underneath his fingers.

The polymer veneer is one of his least favorite textures—he hates the grain of it and if he were to accidentally scratch the table with his nails he knows it would make the hair on the back of his neck stand up. 

But of all the things he’s worried about, that ranks very low on the list. 

He’s got a lot of mental tabs open all the time—and the tabs, he can deal with. It’s when he starts trying to operate with multiple windows that he begins to struggle. His brain, while it is a very fine tuned sort of computer, only has one monitor. Unfortunately, no human (except for the ones who’ve had their brain hemispheres surgically split) is immune to the inevitable pitfalls of multitasking. By dividing his mental energy between you and his job, he’s really fucking up his job. But he also thinks he really fucked up with you on that phone call the other night and for being as logical as he is he can’t seem to make that feel unimportant—even though he’s disgusted with himself for it because there are literally people dying. 

Someone knocks on the open conference room door—he looks up, skimming his lips over his fist. 

“What’s up?” he says too quickly upon seeing Emily’s mildly concerned face peering in on him. 

Her mouth bridges into a sort of nonchalant frown and her brows kick up. 

“Just… checking in. Haven’t heard from you all morning.”

“Yeah, the, uh—the geo-profile. I’m still… I’m still working it out.”

It’s not like he’s ever been phenomenal with his syntax in a social sense, but Spencer is certainly aware he’s doing even worse than usual right now. 

“Okay. Uh… is there anything in particular stumping you, or…?”

“Nope. Just not enough information. But I’m—I’m going to keep trying.”

“Alright. Got your phone handy?”

It’s an odd question—of course he has his phone handy. He’s been doing this job longer than Emily has. How else would he communicate with the rest of the team? He bristles. 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

Emily shakes her head. She’s always been particularly good at reading his moods.

“You’re not under attack, Reid. I was just asking.”

Just as he’s about to say, why would you assume I’m not prepared for my job, he manages to swerve away and stifle the words with his fist. Instead he looks back down at his copy of the map and nods. In reality, he truly isn’t prepared for his job today. The reason he has his phone so close, fully charged and at top volume is because he’s worried he’ll miss a call from you. 

Emily says something else, and he hums in response, and then she’s gone. 

He shouldn’t be reading into your reticence this much. It’s not like you just sit by the phone all day, eagerly awaiting a call or text from him (like he does you). You have a life. You’re busy. And even if you are intentionally dodging his texts, he can’t entirely fault you for it. Spencer knows he’s clingy. He knows he’s overbearing. It’s part of why he panicked the other night and told you the whole humiliating story about Elle. Because he can’t ever just be cool and he felt the need to explain himself. 

But the problem was, and is, that he doesn’t know how much longer he can go without saying those three words that fucked him over all those years ago.

So he’d danced around them. Applied them to someone else to try and avoid outright professing his all-consuming love for you over the phone. However you feel, Spencer has to assume he feels more. Spencer always has to assume he feels more because he usually does and it’s gotten him into trouble before. And now he’s pretty sure he was exactly right, as often is the case, because you didn’t tell him he was mistaken and you’d clammed up and you haven’t talked to him since and he’s not supposed to be reading into it this much. 

Three victims killed and dumped within a 6 mile radius of the first victim plus one victim killed and dumped 23.8 miles away. That doesn’t make any fucking sense. Fuck this guy. 

Spencer decides the problem is that he needs more caffeine. 

Or possibly, if he were a different kind of man—copious amounts of alcohol. 

So he stows his phone in a pocket and asks the first person he sees where the coffee machine is. 

“Looks like you found it earlier,” the woman says, glancing pointedly down at his mostly empty mug. A playful smirk tugs at pinkish-brownish lips. She’s pretty, he realizes distantly. But he registers it the same way he’d take note of the model of a car, or the species of a bird, or the kind of shoes someone is wearing. It doesn’t actually interest him. It’s just part of processing his environment. “I can show you to it?”

He doesn’t have the heart or energy to explain that someone else brought him his cup earlier and he’s not flirting with her. 

“If you could just point me in the right direction…?”

She laughs, short and dry, before she’s pointing down a hall. 

“Kitchenette down there and to the left.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, already walking away without sparing her a second glance. 

She’s the kind of woman he would have paid a lot more attention to before you came along. Not that he’d ever sleep with someone on the job (not since he was 25, anyway), but if he’d met her under any other circumstances he probably would have cared more about the way her pupils dilated and her eyes had widened slightly and she’d adjusted her posture and all the other small things people do when they’re attracted to someone else. 30 year old Spencer might have slept with her. 27 year old Spencer definitely would have slept with her. Current Spencer obsessively pines for a woman who is already his girlfriend and whom he has yet to sleep with at all far too much to think about other women like that. 

But god, does he think about you like that. 

His feet carry him down the dim, carpeted hallway but really it took barely a nudge and he’s thinking about you like that. At work. As he’s pouring himself coffee. 

Spencer is confident in the fact that if anyone were to look at him right now, they’d never guess he’s running clips of you in his mind like a dirty supercut. Because he’s just pouring coffee. That’s one good thing about having all those tabs open all the time. He can toggle between them quickly. He has enough going on in the background that people look at him and all they can tell is that he’s thinking hard about lots of things. Some of them just happen to be the way you look when you’re naked on his bed, skin shining and glazed eyes sleepy, parted lips higher in color than usual and catching your breath. Some of them happen to be your hair brushing his stomach before he gathers it back for you. Some of them happen to be the way your thighs feel on either side of his face, or how you stretch around his fingers, or how you might feel when you stretch around his—

He hisses as hot coffee overflows from the mug and burns his hand. 

Maybe he’s not as calm and collected as he thought. 

But on top of all the other things he’s dealing with, having been so close to actually sleeping with you the other night is really fucking with his head. Even if he tells himself he wouldn't have done it, he knows himself better than that. He's too familiar with the effect you have on his judgement.

“Found it okay?” 

Spencer looks down, surprised to see the woman from earlier sitting at her desk and watching him as he quickly passes by on his way back to the conference room. Her legs are crossed. She’s wearing a pencil skirt and a flouncy sort of blouse which seems impractical for working in an FBI field office. Maybe she notices his eye catching on her figure and misguidedly swivels her chair to give him a better look. But all he’s noticing is that it doesn’t look like yours. Now he’s picturing the curve of your hip dripping in silk after that first night at Rossi’s. How your waist and your stomach feel when he slides his hands over you. This woman—she might as well not even be here for all he’s actually seeing her. 

“Yeah. Thanks again.”

Then he’s gone. Very briefly he acknowledges that he should feel sorry for so obviously brushing her off, but he doesn’t care even close to enough. He sets the coffee down on the table and rounds to the board where one of several maps is taped. On autopilot he draws lines between dump sites because one of the background tabs had deduced, while he was busy watching you like porn, that the distance between dump sites form the beginnings of the constellation Orion with some mathematical precision that’s too exacting to be coincidental. Orion’s Belt plus the most recent victim. Betelgeuse. 

There are ten formally named stars that make up Orion. He marks all of them, but circles the transposed coordinates of Bellatrix, Saiph, Rigel and Meissa as the next most likely dump sites. Most probably it will be Orion’s head. They’re all in wooded areas. He calls Garcia. Garcia will call Emily, wherever she is. If the unsub sticks to pattern, which they always do, they have until midnight. It’s trite, really. Predictable, like people always are. Far too quickly he drinks half the cup of scalding coffee and retraces his steps through the office to find the bathroom. 

It’s empty. The fluorescent lights hum. Spencer washes his hands with cold water and presses still wet fingers to his eyes. You’re waiting for him behind the black of his lids.

At first you would whine, and he would kiss you and you’d moan into his mouth and say his name when he opened you up as far as you would go. The air would be thick and warm with sex and vanilla perfume. Afterwards he’d take care of you and buy new sheets for his bed in your favorite color even if they didn’t match the walls and there would be nothing you’d want for that he couldn’t give to you ever again. 

But. 

That’s all contingent. 

No matter how often he fantasizes about it, no matter in how much detail, and regardless of how often those details change wildly, one thing always stays the same. 

The shape of your lips, swollen from kissing, bending around five or six vowels and only two consonants (it seems odd that there are only two consonants in I love you), sometimes before you start, sometimes in the middle or right at the peak—but always there, always moving in slow motion—and always silent.

In real life, they’d be aloud. It’s why his fantasies aren’t good enough. It’s why he can’t stop fantasizing about it. That’s the only part that really matters to him. The rest varies. 

Not because having sex with you doesn’t matter—it matters so much he almost shatters his molars whenever he starts picturing it around other people. But because Spencer can’t have sex with you until you love him. 

And he worries that you can’t love him until you have sex with him. 

The last time he thought that about a person, it didn’t turn out well.

Maybe there is some magic number. Some amount of times you need to have sex with someone before they’ll love you back. 

If there is, he knows for a fact it’s more than 32.

And he also knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he cannot have loveless sex with you thirty three times while he waits to find out. 

Not again. 

But he's going to hold out as long as he possibly can until you say it because he so badly wants you to love him back. He'll let the weight of every ignored text, every reminder that you don't feel that way about him, hang from his shoulders until he collapses. And then he'll probably try to get back up.

Recycled paper towels scratch against his skin. He dries his face and hands and throws them crumpled into the trash can. 

Outside the restroom, he pulls out his phone. For safety reasons and paranoia disguised as professionalism, you’re not his lock screen. It’s a photo of the Andromeda Galaxy. Whatever distance lies between you and Spencer, it could always be greater. No matter where you are in the world, you will always be the same 2.537 million light years away from Andromeda that he is. 

It makes Orion feel much closer. You, too. 

He sends you a text—the third message in a row. 

The distance between blue bubbles feels like light years. 

I’ll be home tomorrow. I miss you. 

[simpjaes]

heeseung taking out all his anger during sex drabble pls ❤️

MDNI.

this was originally written for jeno on my other blog but it fits so well [i rewrote it/reworded a lot of things. it's much better now lol] wc: 2.3k

tags: Heeseung hate fucks reader when he has a bad day, unprepped penetration, reader basically loses her ability to feel anything other than his cock lmao (cock drunk)

It doesn't always hurt when Heeseung has his hands on you. Really, most of the time it’s blissful. There were those nights though, when he would be rough, careless, and borderline worrisome with you. Oftentimes humiliating you in the way you can barely even mutter his name, weak and quivering under him. 

It doesn’t happen happen, but when it does, you know how much you always end up…kind of loving it.

Really, even if in the moment you’re in pain, sometimes even scared, you had to tell him after the fact to keep doing it. That it’s okay. That you fucking love it. 

Naturally, tonight is another one of those nights. 

Heeseung, first, had you against the counter with his strong arms pressing you back until your head hit the cabinets. You were, essentially, pinned there between his frustrated eyes and the counter top with him slotting himself between your legs. Not a single word is said to you, not a single explanation, and arguably, you know better than to ask. 

You already know. He’s had a bad day.

So, you just let him. Feeling his lips go from a grimace to biting and nipping against your skin. You can only imagine how bad his day went for him to be so silent, still, you let him do as he pleases because you don’t exactly want to make it worse for him. If anything, you’re fine with being an outlet. You get plenty out of this too, after all.

And there is a part of him that knows he’s doing this with you rather than at you, based on your previous pleads to be his outlet. He’s forever in love with the fact that you let him be this rough, with his bruising grip and harsh teeth. There’s nothing more in this world he could need to unwind aside from you and you alone. Solely because you let him.

When he drags you to the bedroom without a word, you simply let him. Internally bubbling with all sort of emotions. Fear, excitement, concern, arousal. He appears to be more angry tonight though, solely because his fingers gripping your wrist hurts much more than usual. You can feel your skin under them, pulling and stretching under his grip as he takes you to where he wants you. 

And yet again, like on many nights like these, he doesn’t offer a single bit of foreplay. He does little more than getting his cock out with that same frustrated face, flicking his head down as if he has an expectation of you. That, he does. You know it very well, and you do as you’re directed. Rolling your pajamas down your leg and easily spreading your legs and pussy for him. 

Unprepped, still mostly dry. You know it’s going to hurt, and he knows it’s going to hurt too. The understanding is mutual but the act is much needed on more ends than just Heeseung’s. 

The drag of his immediate, forced, plunge is uncomfortable for both of you, but something about the feeling of getting you wet while he’s inside of you is something that grounds Heeseung beyond belief. The feeling pulls him out of his red thoughts and turns them a shade darker. 

It’s always you who can distract him. 

And, of course, he only goes faster and harder at that point, chasing the moment for when you’ll slick up for him nice and wet. Gripping onto your body in such a harsh way that all you can do for him is whimper and cry. Your eyes always force the tears, especially when he hasn’t kissed you yet. But even if he had kissed you, you’d be unable to kiss him back at this point. Not until the discomfort subsides anyway.

Thankfully, and like always, it doesn’t take long for your body to want it. What was once the sound of dry and slapping skin turns to that of wet, squelching sounds as you drip out and around him. The drag hurts no more, and by this point you need him to go harder, faster, fucking deeper. After all, if he’s going to hate-fuck you when you’re not even the point of his anger, if he’s not even going to kiss you, he better find a way to make it hurt more. 

Heeseung does come back to himself when he feels the slide though, loving that he can come home from his awful day and have you present yourself in such a way for him. He loves you more than anything, for so many fucking reasons that don’t include that, but still. This is what you do for him, and it brings his softness back tenfold as he reaches out for your face, eyes softening for you in concern. 

Fuck, he swears he learns something new about you every day too. After all the years the two of you have been together, he’s shocked when you turn your face away from him. He’s a bit defeated at the act, partially wondering if he’s really pushed it too far in terms of using you. It’s not often he doesn’t at least give you some praise as he does this, but really, he was so, so upset. His brain just….he needed this before saying anything. 

And so, at that motion of you turning your face away from him and his softer hands, he only slams his hips harder. He tips himself back a bit now, using one hand to tug at your clit as if it’s a form of retaliation from your rejection.

It would be retaliation anyway, but Heeseung knows well enough how much you love to hurt. You love when he tugs and pinches against your pretty, swollen clit. The sharp pains always make you cry in a way that fucks your brain up. As if you don’t know whether to plead for him to stop or to ask for more. 

Still, he’s frustrated that you won’t let him love on you now that he’s grounded himself a bit. His whole fucking day has been a disaster, and now you’re pulling away? Not making eye contact? Not letting him kiss you?

“Baby, look at me.” He says, now nearly demanding that you do as he says. 

And, of course, you do. 

“You want it to hurt more?” He continues when you still shift your eyes away from him, but he’s a bit amused in the way you nod to him. So out of it for him that he feels almost silly for being upset at you in the first place. 

“Yeah?” He nods with a half chuckle, slowing his hips but now driving in with intent and harsh plunges. “Just like that?” 

You yelp as you urge him with a nod, loving the sear and feeling of your boyfriend tearing you open. And while you know he’s being rough, he’s not quite giving you his all now that he’s softened up.

You want him to give it his ass by this point now, if the sound of your pussy is anything to go by. You want him to fucking hurt you, to the point you can’t moan, to the point you can’t breathe. 

“More,” You manage to get out for him in another yelped whimper. “You’re being soft.”

“Yeah?” He asks for confirmation with his hand reaching for you cheek again, burying his leaking cock in so deep, so painfully deep. “Look at me.”

You do, showing him your blown out pupils and mess of hair on top of you head. You nod frantically, wanting him to push further than he ever has. Wondering if he’ll ever surpass his own limit for you. 

It goes like this for a while longer than usual. More pain, more pleasure, and your heart rate higher than you thought possible. 

He’s using you so well and you couldn’t be more proud to be this for him. An outlet, his girlfriend, his sex doll. And fuck, he bites, he bruises, he drags his hips so painfully into you that you feel like you genuinely could be split in half at any moment if he truly wanted to. 

So full, you can feel it so deeply inside of you that all you can do is cry.

You lose yourself to that feeling, basking in the sensation of your walls clenching every inch of him and moaning out with each second that passes. To the point your throat is sore and your eyes are swollen from the tears. 

He pulls against your hair now, holding his hips in place and burying himself just as deep as before inside of you. Instantly, you see tunnel vision now. Like you could burst, both physically and emotionally, all for him. 

Him, him, him. 

And he only holds himself like that to the point that you can feel your cervix bruise. He only pushes harder now, trying to inch in more of his cock despite having no more to give. He lifts your leg over his shoulder just to get a different angle at the failure, only to find a way to make you feel him deeper than you thought was possible. 

God, it hurts so good and he loves it. Your pained face paired with the image of your pussy taking the entirety of him. You’re everything to him. 

And now? His grunts are that of focus rather than pleasure. He wants to ruin you, he is trying to ruin you to the fucking core just to see if you’ll unravel in a new sort of way. 

It’s the fact that he’s talking to you through it too. You can’t make out a single word though, tunnel vision is tunnel hearing, and all you can focus on is the feeling of his cock bruising the deepest part of you. Being torn apart by the man you love is…something you’ll never forget. 

And when you do manage to catch a smirk on his face before his hips start sliding back and forth again, you realize he loves this as much as you do. Of course he does, who wouldn’t love a girl willing to let her man surpass his own limits? 

Out of respect, no less. 

“Are you with me?” His voice echoes through your eyes, and while he’s fully aware that you’re absolutely fucking gone with the way he’s fucking you right now, he takes your distant nod as confirmation. 

Despite how far aware he seems in your head, you know that every sensation your body is feeling right now is because of him. You can’t help the quivering. The uncontrollable shaking.

It feels so good, to the point you are nearly numb to everything else around you. The swollen feeling of your body being abused is too, too fucking good. You can’t even comprehend that he’s kissing against your slack mouth, but you do your best to kiss him back. 

Goddamn does he love the way you drool all over yourself and him. Good. Fucking good girl. 

“Try again,” He chuckles against your tongue, waiting, just to see if you can manage to kiss him properly. Though he suspects you’re completely lost in your head right now. 

After all, he’s giving you exactly what you asked for. 

And all you can do in return is blink up at him with a dazed smile. Your body is moving up with each of his thrusts just to make it that much more painful, and his lips continue to lay against yours. He’s truly waiting for you to kiss him back like you have the ability to do it. Like you can truly think of anything else rather than what he’s doing between your legs. 

Hah. 

“You’re so gone, baby.” He smiles in a breath at your failure to do anything more than leave your mouth open for him. He’s fucking floored by how much you love this, and how you truly embrace the inability to think at this moment. “You’re loving this, hm?”

You can’t even not for him this time, feeling pangs of pain and pleasure shoot through your body with each sharp thrust. 

“Try again, pretty girl.” He encourages you when he licks against your bottom lip again, gripping your hair with his other hand and craning your neck back. 

”You can do it, come on.” He adds, biting against your neck and licking the mark. 

You once again, can’t even try, because he accentuates each word with a drag of his pulsing cock and a sharp pressure against your clit with his abdomen. So, you stop trying, falling into the depths of the sensations and allowing yourself to lose your grasp on reality entirely. 

Fucking hell, he loves it. The way you come undone, the way your entire body goes clack before shaking uncontrollably with a wet spurt of your pussy trying to push him out. He can feel you clench around him, your body acting on instinct to push, push, push, the pleasure out and all over him. 

He has to hold back his own impressed moan at the way he stays buried into you as you squirt around him with that pretty, pained look on your face. 

“Fuck, that feels good, doesn’t it?” He grunts out, slowing his pace to feel you clench around him fully, enough to where he needs to brace himself to pull out slightly just to shove his cock right back into that quivering mess. “So out of it too, god–” He moans now, leaning back just to look down fully. Noting how you’ve left a mess all over him. 

And you still continue to quiver, your pussy still clenches and grips him. All the way until you’re slack, still clenching, and he’s now pumping his cum into you with such a relieved moan that it almost brings you back to reality. 

By the time he’s done shaking on top of you, out of breath, and pulling out, your ears are ringing save for his soft voice. 

“Baby?” You hear him say as he dips down beside your head. “I got you.” 

You manage to nod to him and smile in a drunken kind of daze as he lifts you from the bed for the proper clean up from a boyfriend who very much loves you. 

[saerins]

birthday wish;

itoshi sae x female reader. wc 2.4k

content: fluff. some profanity. slight making out. birthday fic for sae <3

summary: it’s itoshi sae’s birthday. the world hates you. you’ve never been a lucky one. being “shit out of luck” is the only thing you know. the tables must turn.

if higher beings do exist, they really must hate you. they must. you can’t fathom your bad luck otherwise.

not only did your cab to the airport run into an hour long jam, your connecting flight also got delayed and now you’re running a day late.

all you get to see is the group chat blowing up, people sending pictures of others, of each of their antics. there’s a photo of everyone together except you.

because your business trip is a pain in the ass.

because it made you miss a weekend getaway with your friends in hokkaido.

because even when they made the effort to convince the birthday boy to make a little side trip back to tokyo, you’re still too late for that.

if it was anyone else, you’d have been fine with it. as much as you feel guilty about that.

but it’s sae. it’s itoshi fucking sae and you can’t even remember the last time you saw him in person because everyone else’s schedules match except yours. the world has driven a constant wedge between you and sae and you hate it.

is there any other emotion to be reserved when that happens to you and a boy you’ve had a crush on since forever?

meeting itoshi sae as a kid was exciting, hopeful. falling for itoshi sae when he was a teen leaving japan for opportunities elsewhere was giddying. sometimes you can’t believe that someone you know is that successful, and other times you hate the fact that he’s so far away because of it.

more than half the time, he’s in spain. he’s never where you are at least ninety-nine percent of the time. the one occasion he was, which was three years ago over new year’s, you were fucking sick.

and all he sent you was a text telling you to get better while the rest of your group of friends get to hang out with him.

though, you suppose that’s a good thing. he barely ever texts anyway, and you don’t initiate, if only out of fear for getting in his way. (as if small speech bubbles could get in his way at all.)

you sigh helplessly as you reach the immigration hall, even more irritated as you look at the time. already past midnight, sae’s flight would’ve already left by now—or, actually, an hour ago because he doesn’t have your bad luck—so you don’t even have the chance of bumping into him at the airport.

whoopee.

your phone finds itself tossed into your duffel bag at your irritation. unwarranted but it is what it is. by the time you finally get your luggage and exit, you’re exhausted. from the disappointment, the delays, everything.

it’s only when you walk a couple more steps, lugging your things behind you when you stop in your tracks, your boots suddenly feel like they’re one with the marble below them.

“didn’t think your luck could get any worse.”

is it possible for your heart to feel like it isn’t functioning properly after hearing a voice? a voice that you haven’t heard physically for who knows how long now?

you have to take a deep breath to even get his name out. “sae…?”

his brows furrow before he cocks one, sighing as he propels himself forward from against the railing, hands in his jacket pocket as he takes a few steps towards you. his face is hidden behind a black mask, his hood pulled over his head but you can still see the clear piercing teal of his eyes and the same nonchalant expression he always wears in his interviews.

you’ve seen a bunch of them.

“who else would i be?” he sighs again, like he’s exasperated, before he grabs the luggage handle from you and starts tugging it behind him.

it occurs to you seconds later that he expects you to follow him when he doesn’t even turn behind.

“wait wait.” you nearly trip over your own feet as you scramble to catch up to him, feeling out of shape the moment you fall into step beside him. “didn’t you have a flight to spain, like, an hour ago?”

you couldn’t have gotten the timing wrong because you triple checked it in the group chat.

sae makes a confused noice in his throat before shrugging. “pushed it a day later.”

he doesn’t elaborate. like he always does. or doesn’t.

“but why? don’t you have training right after you land? or, when you were supposed to land?”

his body brushes your side when he sidesteps someone on his right. you’re ashamed of how your heart skips a beat.

“i have training the day after. i just wanted to get a day to nurse my jet lag if i could. i could still make training if i leave tomorrow.”

he’s always to the point. but he’s intentionally evading a part of your question.

“but why—”

“i’m hungry. you hungry?” he asks, and you can only blink. you can’t even say anything before your stomach growls and answers for you and sae doesn’t have to wait for your response.

he holds your luggage with his right, and his left hand reaches out for you, warmth enveloping as he tugs you beside him into the nearest izakaya, swiftly getting a table for two in the privacy of their special corner table and all he had to do was remove his mask.

“it’s a little late but… happy birthday,” you whisper to him across the table.

sae’s gaze flicks over to you, blank expression as he just stares at you for a moment. “no it’s not,” he says, and upon your confused expression continues, “i got your text.”

right, because you used the shitty in-flight wifi to try and get your message to him. looks like it worked.

“oh, good then,” you heave a sigh of relief as you let yourself relax, subtly slinking lower against the booth.

over supper, sae purposely asks you questions, about your work, your days, life in general, overloading you with them so you don’t even have a chance to ask him anything thus far.

neither of you even realise that it’s not a 24-hour place, but it’s not a surprise that being itoshi sae has its privileges. before long, the only customers are you and the boy you like and your impatience that puts its foot down and bites the bait.

“why did you push your flight back, sae?”

his bowl is long cleared and all he has to busy himself with is the hot ocha on his side. he looks out the window for a moment, as if contemplating something before he spots the waiter and asks for the bill.

another attempt at shaking the question off that won’t earn him any points because the moment you step out of the airport and into the chilly air outside, you question him again.

“sae, tell me.”

sae takes a deep breath, and you can see the bare hint of a flush in his cheeks. it’s not that obvious, but you can see it.

he finally lets up for the first time tonight, the life granting a glint in his eyes. he chuckles, and he shakes his head, though his smile is subtle—just barely visible.

“you’re still as irritating as when you were a kid, you know?” he remarks, and you find yourself crossing your arms before he finally relents.

after a small pause, he takes a step towards you, his body barely inches from yours. he leans down to your ears, with a voice that’s barely a whisper, “i wanted my birthday wish to come true.”

this isn’t fair, itoshi sae.

“and what’s that?” you ask because he’s still there, his neck right next to your lips and sucking the energy out of you because it’s always nerve-wracking being near him even if you’ve known him most of your life. l

“i wanted…” he pauses, hesitant to say, “to see you. in person.”

and he finally straightens back up, giving you room to breathe.

is it greedy of you to not be satisfied? you feel like this could be a fever dream. are you sick?

“why?” you ask again, and you find yourself trailing after him when he refuses to answer.

sae flags down a cab, telling him your address, word for word correctly and it doesn’t register to you that despite never having been there, he remembers it like the curve of the soccer ball, like the arc of his passes.

nothing is ever too much effort if it’s worth it.

you’ve just never thought you were ever in sae’s head.

by the time you reach your apartment, the both of you are shriveling in awkwardness, too stubborn and stupid for too long that you’re too used to it.

“this one, right?” sae asks when he gets to your unit, the one in the corner of the top floor.

you nod weakly, and sae purses his lips before he pushes the luggage towards you.

“get some rest. you must be tired,” is all he tells you before he starts to make a move, heading back towards the elevator.

but you’re sick of it. sick of the chances you never take and sick of how you’re too scared to even try. your fingers reach out to grab the hem of his jacket sleeve, holding him back.

“i wanted to see you too,” you declare, even if he never asked. you get greeted by the sight of his widening eyes, by the slight upward tug of his lips. “you’re never free when i am and i just—fuck—i hate it. and you’re so accomplished and i’m happy for you, really, but i… i miss you.”

(sae looks at you, looking at the floor, looking guilty as if saying you miss someone is a sin. he feels the way his heart aches in his chest—fuck, did he really miss you this much too?

he’s used to having the upper hand, always having you squirm in embarrassment, but why does he feel like it’s slipping with every instance he’s about to tell you how he really feels about you? why is it slipping every single time he sees you smile? in your photos, your stories, even the emojis you send in your fucking texts.)

“yeah, missed me that much?” he asks, teasing you a little as he sees your feet shift nervously.

what you do next catches him completely off-guard, his eyes snapping shut the moment you grab his jacket lapel, pulling him close and kissing him, tasting so sweet he would be tempted to ask you to do that all night.

by the time you pull away, sae isn’t ready. he’s not ready anymore. to leave you. not so soon. you’ve always been one of the few reasons he couldn’t bear to leave japan and not seeing you all this time has helped him tolerate it. now that you’re here, in the flesh, his fingers digging into your hips, he doesn’t think he can leave.

“you- um- what time’s your flight tomorrow?” you ask, breathless when you finally manage to pull away.

sae groans, shaking his head. “don’t wanna talk about that, doesn’t matter it’s fine, i’ll make it,” he mutters, eyes shutting close again because the next second he’s chasing your lips, swallowing your chuckles as you stumble to open your apartment door.

he makes the effort to kick your luggage inside before he feels his back hitting the back of the door, eyes flying open and being greeted with a smirk on your face.

so you have this kind of side to you too.

sae smiles a little wider now, shaking his head when you wrap your arms around his neck, jumping up with your legs around his waist as you drown him in kisses that would probably last him at most a few days.

“sorry, i know this is more than you wished for,” you laugh weakly in between kisses.

sae shakes his head. “i don’t mind a bonus,” he jokes, and you hit him playfully on the chest.

it’s a little surreal to you that the boy you’ve had a crush on for half your life is actually reciprocating. you’ve watched him play pro-soccer since he was a teen until now, when you’re both full-fledged adults. you’ve never thought that anything would work out. not when you’re just barely navigating through life while he has his whole career figured out.

not when you’re always shit out of luck. but if this is the kind of luck that you get, you’ll take it.

“i… i’ve always liked you, itoshi sae,” you confess, foreheads pressed against one another’s as he continues to hold you in his arms, stronger than you remember.

a low hum leaves his throat. “i know, rin told me the first time i came back to japan from spain.”

you might actually kill rin.

(sae bites back a chuckle. he never thought of it much at all back then. he barely cared for anything except soccer. he can’t even remember when he started to think of you more. miss you. wish to see you on birthdays, on new year eves, on new years, christmases, whatever occasions there are in a year.)

“i think i might love you,” he confesses, and it takes your breath away.

you can only blink, slowly letting it sink in. you get down off his arms, both of you locking gazes and never looking away.

“think you could do that from halfway across the world too?” you ask.

it dawns on him what you’re afraid of, but after years of pining for you, sae has no doubt in his head.

“think i could do that forever, no matter where we are,” sae assures you, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “could you grant me one more wish?”

you swallow the lump in your throat. “what is it?”

“be mine.”

and this is his birthday (it’s still not 11 october in other parts of the world!) but you feel like it’s your lucky day.

“i think i’ve always been yours, itoshi sae.”

and for the first time since you’ve known him, you see him smile. wider than you’ve ever seen. you finally see the path clearing, you can finally tell, somehow—itoshi sae will be yours for life.

[btsvt-bar]

hurts so good

pairing ꩜ mean husband!mingyu x afab!reader

content/genre ꩜ haters to lovers, ceo/mean husband mingyu, smut (18+ mdni)

author's note ꩜ not proofread . comments are appreciated!

warnings under the cut!

warnings ꩜ smut, fingering, masturbation (m. receiving), alcohol consumption, angry sex, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, creampie, light degrading, dom-ish mingyu, dirty talk, spanking (he slaps her ass like 4 times), begging.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

You and Mingyu first met when you were kids. Coming from rich families, you went to the same private school. And to be honest, you really hated him back then.

When you were teenagers, Mingyu was really popular. He was good-looking and smart, being one of the top students of the school. All the girls had a crush on him, even if he was mean to them.

He had always been self absorbed and rude to everyone. Especially to you, and you had no clue why.

You were the quiet, nerdy type. You kept it to yourself, being too focused on your grades and on getting into a good university. Plus, you were basically the only one who didn’t think he was hot shit — but, of course, you’d never say it out loud.

Both of you got into Business School, so you never really got rid of him. His annoying personality only got worse, making you his personal laughing stock.

It worsened when your families merged companies. Coming from the food and beverage industry, and being good friends, it felt natural to merge companies and create an empire bigger than it was before. And, of course, that union had to be sealed with the marriage of the heirs.

When your parents told you, you had a nervous breakdown. They didn’t understand why, labeling you as dramatic. Of course they wouldn’t get it, Mingyu posed as polite and respectful in front of them. But you knew better.

That’s how you ended up getting married to the man you despised. Needless to say, it was the worst day of your life.

Now, three years later, you’re still trapped in a marriage that feels more like a prison. You sleep in separate rooms and on the daily basis, you and Mingyu never really talk, unless it’s a work matter.

Also, you have a terrible sex life. You can count on a hand the amount of times the two of you did it. Yes, you are physically attracted to Mingyu. He has great abs and a big dick, plus delicious big arms and a toned chest. The few times you fucked, you were both tipsy and had had a fight before going out to some company party. It was always angry sex, and you never talked about it the morning after.

With your 4th anniversary approaching, people started asking when are you going to have kids. You dreaded this moment, but it seemed like you couldn’t scape it anymore. It got you thinking about your “marriage”, about how you wished things would change and how you wished Mingyu was a good husband.

As you do your makeup for the company dinner you have tonight, you try to be mentally prepared to be questioned, once again, about your pregnancy plans.

"Hurry up, we’re going to be late" Mingyu says outside your room. You finish putting on lipstick and grab your purse.

You find him waiting on the couch, looking really handsome in his all black tuxedo. His eyes scan you head to toe. His face remains emotionless, but you notice his eyes lingering a bit too long on your wine colored lips and modest cleavage.

"Let’s go."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

The music is a bit loud, so you have to stay all the way across the room to chat properly with other people.

You are stuck talking to Mingyu’s friends’ wives. It’s not that you don’t like them, because you do, but the topic of the conversation is not something you want to discuss.

"Cheollie’s been so good to me since I told him I’m pregnant" Gwen says while smiling fondly at her husband, who's across the room. "I mean, he’s always been sweet, but now he’s so much more protective and loving…"

"Wonwoo was like that too" Claire comments. "And he’s just the perfect father. Always wanting to help me out. And he won’t admit, but he loves to prepare Yeji’s lunchbox." The other women coo, finding it adorable. But you feel your face twist into a sad expression.

You knew all of them were in an arranged marriage just like yours. How on earth you were the only one who got unlucky?

"What about you and Mingyu?" Mona, Jeonghan’s wife, asks you. "Are you planning to get pregnant soon?"

You take a sip of your gin and tonic, trying to come up with an answer. They all look at you expectantly, and you don’t have the guts to let them down.

"Oh, definitely! We’re trying" you lie. The other women cheer excitedly.

"You’re gonna have the cutest babies!" Claire says.

"Oh that’s for sure. And y/n will be the prettiest mamma ever!" Gwen gushes.

You start to feel bad about lying, so you finish your drink and walk away to grab another.

As you wait, you see Mingyu chatting and laughing with his friends. And it makes you kinda mad that he’s having fun, and you’re not. When you look back at where the other wives are, you see them caressing Gwen’s pregnant belly and you decide you’ve had enough. You walk over to Mingyu, his smile fading the second he spots you.

"What?" he asks in a harsh tone, left eyebrow raising.

"I wanna go home, I’m not feeling well" you say the first excuse that comes to mind.

"Are you for real?" Mingyu seems so annoyed. Seungcheol nudges him, letting out a quiet ‘bro’. Mingyu sighs. "Ok, whatever."

The ride home is tense. Mingyu was holding back so he wouldn’t make a scene in front of the driver, but as soon as you’re alone in your living room, he couldn’t hold his tongue anymore.

"Why do you always have to ruin the night? Honestly, Y/N, you’re so fucking annoying!" he spits out.

You roll your eyes, deciding not to take shit from him. "I was bored and wanted to come home. You could’ve stayed."

"No, I couldn’t. That would make me look bad."

Usually, you wouldn’t say what you wanted. You’d just ignore and go to your room. But today, after a few drinks, and having to hear for hours on end about how your friends’ husbands were amazing, you felt fed up with Mingyu’s bullshit.

"Maybe you should worry more about being a good husband than about faking it." you point out while taking off your heels.

"Excuse me?" his nostrils flare, signaling how angry he was.

You just shrug, not giving a fuck if he was mad. "It is what it is, Mingyu. You don’t even try to be nice to me, but you worry so damn much about how you’re perceived by others." By now, your purse was thrown on the nearest chair and you’re shouting at him. "I’m done trying to be nice, and I think we reached a point where we should get a divorce and move on. Our marriage is a sham and I’m so fucking done with you."

The man chuckles as his tongue pokes his inner cheek. He looks really annoyed. Mingyu sighs and empties his pockets, putting his stuff in a bowl on the small wooden counter.

You feel livid and his lack of response keeps your mouth running. "What’s so funny?"

"Nothing, just the fact that you think that this shitty situation is all on me." He rises his eyebrows. "Get over yourself, Y/N. None of us is willing to take the first step, that’s why our marriage is a shit show." Mingyu turns around and heads out to his room, but the next thing you say stops him dead in his tracks.

"Why aren't you willing to take the first step? What have I done that is so bad that you can't even be my friend?" A few tears escaped your eyes, but you were quick to wipe them away. "Does hurting me make you feel good or something?"

He had to give it to you. You are being really brave, questioning him and talking back.

The small bar cart catches his eyes and he decides that if you're finally having that conversation — one you should've had years ago —, he needs a drink to get through it. The room is filled with the sound of whiskey being poured. Mingyu takes a long sip, almost downing down the whole liquid, and refills his cup.

If he were to be completely honest, he would say he didn't even know why he hated you. He just did. Nowadays, he didn't mind your presence for the most part. However, when you hit his nerves, he wanted you gone. "Hating you is as natural as breathing for me. It's always been like this, why change it?"

"So we can, at least, coexist in peace? Have some fun, even? I'm not asking you to be husband of the year, but could try to be an ok one." You say with a tired tone, the whole situation already taking it's toll on you. Copying his actions, you poured some of the amber liquid for yourself. "You can get some tips from your friends. They're nice to their wives."

Mingyu snorts. "Yeah sure, if you're going to learn from your friends how to be a good wife…"

"I'm willing to try, Mingyu. But I'm not doing this on my own."

You both calmed down quickly, the heated beginning reduced to a low toned conversation. You’re impressed with how well things are going, considering the two of you usually shout and exchange offenses until someone walks away.

"We can try." His voice is quiet. Mingyu's staring at you, his eyes filled with undertones you don't comprehend yet. His moist lips are caught between his teeth. Shaking his head, he places the empty cup on the cart. "This is funny, you know."

"What?"

You can see he's conflicted between saying what's on his mind and keeping his mouth shut. "You can tell me, since we're being honest." You encourage him.

He looks you deeply in the eyes and says "We just called a truce like two minutes ago and now my mind keeps whispering that if we were a real couple, this would be the moment to kiss and make up."

Your mouth gapes in shock. The few times you had sex before, you hadn’t kissed. Mingyu would fuck you from behind, fast, hard and with a lot of pent up anger. And that was it. So you were caught off guard by his words. Seeing your expression, Mingyu quickly added: "The alcohol got to my head, pretend I never said anything."

Before he can try to leave again, you grab his bicep. "I hate to admit it, but you kind of have a point…"

Both of you start to feel this weird heat spreading under your skins. You sigh deeply. It’s weird you know precisely what’s underneath those black clothes. Mainly because you feel like you’re going to have sex him with for the first time.

"Want me to fuck you senseless until we spend all our anger and then we can start over?" He offers with a crooked smile you never saw before.

You feel slick pooling in your panties, your body already reacting to his filthy mouth. This flirty, sexy side of Mingyu is new to you, but you’re already loving it.

"Are you for real?"

Mingyu towers over you, making you step back until you reach the nearest wall. "Do I look like I'm messing around? Do I look like I won't fuck you until we both forget we hated each other in the first place?"

His serious eyes and deep voice make you sigh and bite your lower lip, fully invested in him. He reaches out and caresses your cheek before pulling you in for a kiss.

You both moan at the contact. His tongue dominates yours in a second, imposing a fast rhythm. Your core twists, tingling in a way that nearly hurts. Mingyu grunts when you close your arms around his neck and pulls gently at his hair.

The room temperature rises, leaving you both hot and bothered when you break the kiss. "Go to your room." Mingyu instructs and you comply. The walk is torturous, with shaky legs and your skimpy lacy panties sticking to your folds.

You’re shaking a little when you sit down on your bed. The night went from 0 to a 100 in minutes and you honestly don’t even want to think much about it for now.

"Can I come in?" Mingyu asks on the other side of the door, knocking lightly on the wood.

"Yeah, sure."

Mingyu took off his blazer and necktie, and the first buttons of his shirt are open, revealing his toned chest. Once again, you evaluate his beefy body proportions and purr quietly. Gosh, he’s hot!you think.

The hunky man looks around, analyzing the stuff you have in your room. You realize it’s the first time he enters it. "Do you want to keep going?"

Your eyes meet his and, for the first time ever, you see he’s actually worried about you. You limit yourself to nodding. "I’m gonna need you to say it, Y/N."

"Yes. Please get over here." You plea. Mingyu groans and crosses the room. His pants feel tight and uncomfortable, his cock pulsating with each step.

He gets on top of you, bunching your dress up on your waist. "Fuck…" he hisses when he sees your panties. You feel him caressing your clit over the lace and hold back a moan.

Mingyu moves the fabric to the side, easily sliding his fingers through your dripping cunt. "So fucking wet and I barely touched you. Do you get off on fighting with me?"

Your face grows hot, but you’re not sure if it’s because of his words or actions. He teases your hole, prodding a finger in your entrance. All air leaves your lungs. You let out a whimper, which makes Mingyu chuckle.

"So responsive." He removes his hand, his eyes searching for yours again. "If I knew you’re such a horny slut, I would’ve done this a long time ago."

"Shut up." You sass, your heart pounding in your chest. "Just shut up and actually do something."

"You better watch your fucking mouth." He manhandles you until you’re laying on your stomach. He moves you on his lap and uncovers your ass.

To your surprise, he slaps your right butt cheek. You yelp, feeling your blood pumping quickly through your body. He repeats his action, this time with more intensity.

"Cat got your tongue?" He mocks when you stay silent. Truth is, you’re clamping your lips together so you don’t moan. "You’re soaking through your panties… Is spanking one of your kinks?"

Mingyu gives you another sharp slap, but this time he massages your flash to soften the blow.

"One more." Your voice sounds croaky as you speak.

"As you wish." He complies to your request, giving you the sharpest spank so far. You whimper and Mingyu smiles, pleased with himself.

Taking advantage of your position, he slides your panties off and pulls down the zipper of your dress. With his help, you undress.

You’re laying naked on his lap and just the sight of your bare back and red ass makes the blood in Mingyu’s body flow directly to his cock. He sighs and separate your legs just enough to touch your naked pussy again.

"Mingyu please." You cry out loud, needing him to slip his fingers in your hole.

"Please what?" He plays dumb and you feel the smirk on his voice. "I don’t know what you want, you’re gonna have to say it."

You sob in frustration. "Did you really think I was going to make things easy for you?" Mingyu’s hand ghosts over your body, giving you goosebumps from the heat he irradiates. "I hate you, remember?"

This is absolute torture. Your body is boiling with desire and need, you skin nearly burning up. Mingyu traces your tights, his soft touch giving you goosebumps. "Finger me. Please, I really need it. Please please please." You beg and Mingyu chuckles again, amuzed by your desperate tone.

He parts your legs a bit as his big hands trail the path from the back of your tights to your folds. You feel one of his fingers tease your dripping hole and you clench around nothing.

You’re so wet that his two fingers slide easily into you. Your inner walls clamp down on his digits and he groans. "You’re so tight, Y/N. Can’t wait to feel you on my dick again."

Mingyu begins to finger fuck you with a lazy pace, pulling out completely just to push back in at once. Your head feels cottony, like your brain weights nothing. Out of instinct, you bite your own hand to keep your moans from falling off your lips. Your hips move with a mind of its own, pushing back to meet Mingyu’s movements. Soon enough he hits that gummy spot inside you that makes you shiver. He notices you’re close to your climax, so, out of spite, he stops his stimulation.

"Why?" you cry out, tears accumulating in your eyes. "I was so close!"

"Because it’s fun" he laughs while stroking your ass tenderly. "Be good, lay down and spread your legs for me so I can make you cum."

Your limbs feel like jelly when you scramble around to get on your back. Mingyu gets up and pushes his dress pants down along with his black boxers. His cock stand hard and proud, the red tip glossed with pre cum. You muster the strength to get on your knees and approach him, your hands grabbing his shirt to start unbuttoning it.

You work your way up his body, taking each button out of its house. When you take the last one out, your caress his big chest, feeling his strong muscles under your sweaty palms. You smooth your way up to his shoulders and push his shirt down. He’s finally naked in front of you, in all his glory.

You trail his arms and abs, all the way down to his rock hard cock. When you wrap your hands around him, Mingyu lets out a sigh of relief. You stroke him slowly while savoring his low, deep grunts in your ear. Soon enough, you quicken your pace. Meanwhile, all you can think about is his cock splitting you open and you feel yourself getting wetter.

"Tha-that’s enough." He reaches for your wrist to stop you after a couple minutes.

Surprisingly, he pulls you in for another kiss. This time, it’s a slow, passionate one. Without separating your lips, he leads you to lay down again. The new position makes Mingyu’s hips align with yours, and you start rutting each other like animals on heat.

"Seeing you between my legs is so hot." you confess when you part the kiss to breathe. "But it could be better."

"Yeah? How so?" Mingyu pokes his cheek with his tongue, his confidence unwavering.

You bite your lower lips for a second. "You’ll look hotter inside me, dear husband."

His smile falters, his eyes turning darker and darker with desire. You know you said just the right thing to spur him on.

"I’d hold onto something if I were you."

You decide to ground yourself by hugging him. Without hesitation, Mingyu pushes in in one quick, firm trust. He’s swallowed in by your warm, soft walls. You see when his eyes roll back in pleasure, and his reaction boosts your confidence through the roof. On the other hand, his big cock splitting you open twists and tightens the knot on your core even more. You know it won’t require much effort for you to cum.

"Please move" you whim and kiss his lips softly. "I need you to move."

Mingyu gives in and imposes a fast, rough pace. You sink your nails on his back, trying to keep yourself from moving too much. He slides in and out of you deliciously, reaching all the right places. You moan loudly on his ear, and he huffs and puffs on yours. The loud sounds of skin slapping, added with the wet noises coming from your wetness, teleport both of you to a world of your own. A world where the only thing that matters is Mingyu’s rough thrusts and the way your insides mold perfectly to accommodate his dick.

After what it feels like forever, Mingyu folds your legs to your chest, and the position makes him reach new places inside of you. It’s when he starts rubbing circles on your clit that you feel on the verge of frenzy. "I’m almost there." You announce.

His hips redouble efforts, and within a few seconds, and a chant of "cum for me, dear wife" your mind turns blank and your soul is lifted off of your body.

You nearly pass out, all the stimulation being too much for you. Seeing you so blissed out pushes Mingyu over the edge before he has the chance to pull out. He grunts as he covers your walls with his warm milk. Your arms fall limp on his back, and Mingyu’s strength also falters, making him drop his weight on top of you.

He rubs his nose on your neck in an affectionate gesture. You smooth your hands on his back in a retributive way. The two of you stay silent for a while, enjoying the proximity and giving yourselves time to come back down.

When Mingyu slips out of you, a stream of white floods out of your messed up hole.

"Fuck, I should’ve pulled out." Mingyu searches for your eyes, his brown orbs filled with worry. You smile softly at him.

"It’s ok, I don’t mind." You reassure him. "Just help me clean up, yeah?"

Mingyu gets up immediately and enters your en suite. He comes back a minute later with a wet cloth in hand.

"You ok?" He asks while cautiously rubbing it against your sensitive cunt.

"I’ll probably limp tomorrow, but I guess that’s the downside of fucking your hater, right?" You joke and he chuckles while shaking his head.

"Well, I guess we’re sort of friends now."

"Yes, definitely." You agree.

He discards the towel and lays back next to you. You’re under the sheets now, and your body feels completely spent. "You’re not going to sleep, are you?"

You nod, feeling your heavy lids take the best of you. "I sure am."

Mingyu gets on top of you again, and hold your chin to make you look at him. "I’ll give you 30 minutes to recover, dear wife." The stupid nickname rolls out of his tongue with an almost tender laugh.

"I thought you were fucking me until we spent all of our anger." you state, struggling to keep your eyes open. "I don’t feel angry anymore."

"I do." His eyes hold mysteries you’re yet to discover. "I’m not done hating you yet."

His low deep voice stirs your insides. You sigh, feeling your heartbeat increase again. "30 minutes and you can hate me all you want."

"Deal." He presses a kiss to your lips and goes back to the empty side of the bed.

You feel him scrambling around looking for the TV remote control. As you let your tiredness get the best of you, all you can think about is that you’re going to fight with everything that you have to make things work out between the two of you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

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