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okaylikeschaewon · 2 days ago

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We Are Aespo

~7k words, smut, male reader, inspired by Karina's "Aespo" slip up

Concerts, jets, explosions, these are some of the first thoughts that probably come to mind when one thinks about the word ‘loud’. However, there is nothing in the world louder than the sound of a glass shattering during a party. At least, that’s how it felt right now, and the DJ deciding to pause the music at the very same moment didn’t help either.

“Oops,” Karina stares blankly at the shards of glass decorating the marble floor as if she wasn’t the reason they were there.

“Alright,” you grab her arm. “It’s time to go.”

“B-But… I… look…” Karina cranes her neck to look over her shoulder at the mess, fighting your pull.

“They’ll take care of it, let’s go,” you give her another tug, ignoring her distress.

“Where go?” Karina asks cheerily, already forgetting about the glass.

“Away from stuff you can break.”

Karina stops moving and frowns. “It was an accident.”

The sigh barely escapes your lips before Karina’s face lights up and she runs right past you.

“Winter!” Karina shouts, forgetting about you entirely, and rushes toward the girl. She grabs Winter by the face and plants a kiss directly on her lips.

“Karina…” you groan, internally laughing at Winter’s wide-eyed expression. You grab Karina’s hand and pull her away. “Come on.”

“Where are we going now?” she whines, fighting your grip again. “I want Winter.”

“And I want you to drink some water.”

“More champagne?” Karina asks with those round puppy dog eyes. Your weakness that you always struggled to deny; She’s cuter than ever in this moment, rushing to keep up with you, latching onto your arm tightly.

“Maybe after the water.”

“Oh! Alright, but what–” she begins before suddenly squealing and crumpling to the floor.

“Karina!” you gasp, quickly kneeling down next to her. “You alright?”

“It… it…” her lip quivers and she brings her knees up to her chest, slowly tears pool up in her pretty eyes. “It hurts.”

“Aww baby,” you pull her into a hug and rub her back. “What am I ever going to do with you?”

“Karina!” Winter catches up, joining the two of you on the floor. “What is wrong with you?”

“I think I rolled my ankle,” she sniffles as you let go of her.

“Does this hurt?” you start gently flexing her ankle before Karina inhales sharply.

“Owie…” she pouts, quietly, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry baby,” you reach forward and tenderly wipe her eyes, trying your best to avoid smudging her eyeliner.

Trying to be as careful as possible, you place her foot in your lap and begin massaging her ankle. Around you, the crowd pretends to ignore what’s happening, but envious glances occasionally catch your attention. You know very well they would do anything to trade positions with you, but all they can do is watch.

Meanwhile, Karina’s staring at you and her beauty has never hit harder. You feel your entire body burn warm under her gaze as she holds steady, letting your fingers work the joint. She’s in pain, a lot of it, but it’s quickly fading away. For just a moment, the hectic rambles of the event are wiped from your minds, leaving you in a comfort that you’d easily pick over everyone else in this room combined. The crowd no longer matters.

It probably helps that they’re all here to impress you, and not a single one of the millionaires attending would dare say anything but praise – at least not in public. They know better than that. Not that Karina cares what others think, in fact she couldn’t care less about the dull droning coming out of their mouths, the incessant forced-flattery whenever anyone would find the courage to talk to you. She knows they’re fake.

That’s probably why she decided to get so drunk tonight – an attempt to actually enjoy the evening. It doesn’t happen often, but you always have fun when it happens; Her silly, dorky behavior carries a charm that took barely more than one interaction for you to fall in love with. At this point, you’re far more entertained by her antics than the thought of listening to another wave of the gilded gibberish you’ve been enduring all evening. It was time for you to actually enjoy the six figures you spent on this party, and for you, that meant being with your girl.

“God, you look so beautiful right now,” you whisper while gently massaging your fingers into her ankle. “Can you walk, or should I carry you?”

“Or I could carry you,” Winter adds cheekily.

“That’s what I want, I want Winter to carry me,” Karina giggles as you help her to her feet. She frowns and looks down, testing her ankle. “I think I can walk, but I need…”

“I’m here,” you smile, slipping your arm around Karina’s waist and holding her up. “Winter, sweetheart, could you ask one of the staff to bring water and another bottle of champagne up to our room? And then please join us as well if you’d like a break from…” you gesture broadly at the swath of designer suits and dresses filling the room.

She nods.

“More champagne?” Karina’s voice jumps with excitement at the sound of more alcohol.

“Not for you,” Winter sings before scurrying off.

“You said that’s what you wanted, didn’t you?” you open the door and walk Karina to the grand staircase. “How can I say no to my princess?”

Karina leans over and kisses you on the cheek. “Do you love your princess?” her voice sweetens like syrup.

“More than anything,” you answer.

“More than your cars?

“More.”

“More than your house?”

“More than all of my houses.”

“More than your business?”

“Are you kidding me? I just ditched my business back there so that I could spend some time with the love of my life,” you point out. “Now, enough silly questions,” you add, leaning in and kissing her.

She giggles before squealing as you sweep her off her legs and into your arms.

“What?” you smile down at her and start climbing the stairs. “I’m not having you hop up these.”

Karina stares up warmly at you, her face brimming with emotion. She holds on tight as you walk her up the steps, smiling but also a bit on edge. She’s thinking about something, and she’s thinking hard.

“Yes?” you encourage her. “Think any harder and I’ll start seeing steam come out of your ears.”

“I think…” she begins softly, “the last time you carried me up these stairs was after our wedding.”

“Has it been that long?”

“Yeah,” she smiles up at you, the subtle, rosy alcohol-glow making her face shine more adorable than ever, as if that was even possible. “Do you remember that night?”

“Of course,” you open the door to your bedroom and gently lay Karina down. “Do you remember what happened after?”

“How could I forget?” she whispers with a smile, reaching her arms out towards you. “We had to cancel brunch the next morning because I literally couldn’t walk.”

“Whatever, we needed the sleep anyway,” you laugh before slowly climbing onto the bed with her, sliding your hand gently up her leg as you push her onto her back and carefully lay on top of her. You gently crash your lips against hers, bringing both hands up to her hips.

She kisses back, sliding her arms around your shoulders, running one hand through the hair on the back of your head. Her dress rides up her body as she wraps her legs around your hips, pulling you closer into her embrace, breathing heavily into your mouth.

The kiss turns aggressive. Like a fight, forceful and hostile. Her tongue intertwines with yours, she’s keeping you on your toes, figuratively speaking. Your heart races, trying to keep up with Karina’s passion – she’s unrelenting.

It’s primal instinct at this point. Karina’s warmth and love is all you crave in this world. You slip the straps of her dress off her shoulders before reaching lower and squeezing in her thighs, tightening the grip her legs have on your body. You want her close, as close as physically possible.

Her flowery scent engulfs your mind, numbing it briefly, alongside the subtle citrus taste of champagne on her lips. It would be addiction either way, anything Karina does is addiction for you. She doesn’t even know it, but she has full control of your every thought. She’s what you want, perfect in every way.

“Ahem,” a voice calls from behind.

Neither of you cares, still kissing as if your lives depended on it. Intoxicated and obsessed with the other’s taste, addicted and engrossed in the other’s body. She’s–

“Stop kissing!” Winter slams the door shut, glaring at the two of you with a bottle of water in one hand and champagne in the other.

“Don’t be jealous,” you ease away from Karina with a smile. “You had your turn earlier.”

“Oh yeah, that reminds me,” Winter walks over and places the bottles down. “What the fuck Karina.”

“What?” Karina giggles, sitting up in the bed, her dress a disheveled mess. “It’s not our first time kissing.”

“Yeah but in public?” Winter whines. “Everyone saw.”

“And they probably fucking loved it,” you laughed, giving the champagne bottle a shake. “Come on Winter, live a little.”

“Live a little? This was supposed to be a professional event. The entire company is present.”

“Oh please,” Karina scoffs, crossing her arms. “It was so boring.”

“Maybe for you it doesn’t matter, you’re already married to the damn king,” Winter retaliates. “No one cares what you do. I actually have to worry about my reputation. People talk, you know.”

“And you suck the king’s cock every morning,” Karina laughs. “I think your reputation is beyond saving here.”

“W-What are…” Winter stammers and her cheeks burn pink. “Don’t say it like that.”

“How else would I say it?” Karina teases. “Half of them already know your job is to empty his balls.”

“No they don’t!” Winter whines. She’s upset, but the problem is how cute she is even when she’s upset. “And that’s not my job!”

“Oh sorry I forgot,” a smirk flashes across Karina’s face. “Sometimes if you’re a good girl, he bends you over your desk.”

“Karina!” Winter complains.

“Relax Winter,” you uncork the champagne and give it a few shakes.

“Are you…” Winter begins backing away. “Don’t you dare.”

“Too late,” you smirk before moving your thumb aside and begin spraying Winter with champagne.

“My dress!” Winter cries out as she runs away, ducking her head into her arms.

The room erupts as you chase her down, fueled by Karina’s laughs and Winter’s cries. Winter runs around the bed, jumping on it and grabbing Karina for cover. Mouth wide open in shock, Karina shields her face, turning to the side and screaming as you spray her as well, laughing hysterically as you cover her in champagne.

“Babe!” Karina laugh-shouts in disbelief as she looks down at her soaked dress.

“Oh no,” you chuckle before walking over to the table and filling a glass. “Winter, do her a favor and help her out of that dress, it’s all soiled.”

“What about my dress?” Winter whines before unzipping Karina from behind.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you out of yours too,” you smile, holding the glass out for Karina to take.

Karina smiles up at you, her tits on full display, barely covered by the lacy bra she had hiding under her satin gown. She accepts the glass, downing it in one go before handing it back to you.

“Your turn,” you refill the glass and hold it out for Winter.

“I don’t need that, there’s plenty right here,” Winter waves away the glass before crawling in front of Karina. “You drink it, and then drink another one for me,” Winter adds over her shoulder before devoting all of her attention to Karina.

She yanks down Karina’s bra, freeing her tits in all their glory, and shoves her face deep between them, licking up the champagne directly from Karina’s body. You can’t help but smile as you sip, enjoying the view of Winter as she slides her tongue all over Karina’s tits, lapping up anything she can reach – you’re reminded of how fucking lucky you are as you pour another glass of champagne.

Winter squeezes Karina’s tits together, creating a little ravine for her tongue to play in. She makes little circles, pushing her tits in all directions. Meanwhile, Karina’s loving it, eyes closed breathing through an open mouth, soft moans escaping her from time to time, especially whenever Winter’s fingers give her nipples little pinches. It’s hard to say who’s having more fun.

“My God, Winter,” you put the glass down and flip up her dress.

You laugh as she doesn’t even react, not even when you slip your fingers down the back of her underwear. Slowly, you ease your fingers down to Winter’s pussy, playing with her wetness while enjoying the show. “You’re so fucking wet,” you tease, daring a couple of fingers into her entrance.

“Am I?” Winter finally looks back over her shoulder at you, arching her back. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you yank down Winter’s underwear and give her ass a smack. “Right, babe? Wanna see?”

Karina excitedly sits back up and steps off the bed, stands next to you and also slaps Winter’s cheeks.

“Wow,” Karina licks her lips as she frees herself from her champagne-covered dress. “You look so fucking scrumptious.”

Winter laughs, reaching back and giving her own ass a slap. “Are you two just going to keep staring, or is someone going to fucking eat me out?”

“Go on,” Karina whispers as she steps behind you and snakes her arms around your hips. She presses her tits into your back, pushing you forward as her fingers unbuckle your pants. “I know you want her.”

She presses your face into Winter’s cheeks before you can even come up with a response, and your brain immediately turns to mush. You suck on Winter’s folds as hard as you can, trapping her pussy between your lips and flicking your tongue back and forth.

“Oh fuck,” Winter moans out, her knees nearly giving out.

“Get that pussy ready,” Karina calls out to Winter as she yanks down your pants and grips your cock. “Your night is just starting.”

Winter can’t make sense of Karina’s words, or anything for that matter, as she flexes her back, overwhelmed by your mouth. You keep sucking her pussy, using both your hands to spread her soft cheeks as far as they can go, getting your mouth as deep as you can. With your mouth buried in Winter’s pussy, you feel Karina’s fingers gently jerk your cock to life. It doesn’t take long, you’re already rock-hard.

“Oh fuck that, I changed my mind,” Karina gasps before grabbing you by your hair and pulling you out of Winter’s pussy. She tosses you onto the bed and you land on your back right next to Winter who’s still on all fours. “I need this cock so fucking bad.”

“Baby it’s yours, it’s always yours,” you laugh, grabbing your base and holding it straight up, waiting for Karina.

“What the fuck!” Winter whines. “I guess I’ll just go fuck myself.”

“Stop being so dramatic,” Karina rolls her eyes before giving Winter the hardest slap of the night on her ass. “And take this shit off,” she tugs at Winter’s dress. “You’re too fucking cute to be covering up.”

Winter obliges, tossing her dress to the side.

Karina shoves her hand between Winter’s legs. “You’re really so fucking wet,” Karina moans as she shoves two fingers up Winter’s pussy.

“Don’t… Don’t fucking tease,” Winter crumbles to the bed.

“Winter, come here,” you reach over and grab her hand. “I need Karina to ride my cock already, you’re distracting her.”

“Me?” Winter retaliates as you pull her over. She places one knee right next to your ear and lifts her other leg up, following your lead. “I didn’t do nothing.”

“I don’t really care anymore,” you lick your lips at the sight of Winter’s pussy right above you. “Fucking hell, look at you.”

“Oh you like this?” Winter lowers herself just slightly out of reach as you crane your neck up.

She giggles as you give her ass another slap.

“Winter,” Karina scolds, joining the two of you on the bed as she straddles your body. “Turn around first.”

“Oh,” Winter quickly drops her pussy onto your face for just a moment before lifting herself up and flipping around so that she’s facing Karina. “Like this?”

“You’re killing him you fucking tease,” Karina laughs as she takes your cock in her hand and pokes at the precum leaking from your tip.

“Seriously, I’m going to remember this,” you moan, reaching up with both hands to spank Winter’s cheeks.

She giggles again before lowering her pussy down onto your face. Her thighs squeeze against your sides, and her pussy begins painting your face with her wetness. Her playful giggles almost immediately turn into moans, and you can just imagine Karina’s smile as she watches Winter sitting on your face.

It’s exactly what you want, almost sweet, a bit of tang, and unbelievably soft. Her folds press against your mouth hard, twisting and contorting to the shape of your face. You’re suffocating in her pussy and you love it. Just when you start thinking about how this is as good as it gets, your world gets flipped upside down.

Karina moans out, loud enough for you to hear even with your ears squished against Winter’s thighs. She’s lowering herself onto your throbbing cock, and that first bounce nearly makes you erupt on the spot. Karina’s pussy consumes your cock and your entire world. You might be starting to feel the alcohol.

You’re almost scared by how quickly you felt yourself about to bust. You try to hold back, desperately – and of course now Winter decides to start grinding her hips back and forth. Breathing becomes difficult, your body is struggling to hold on, it’s too much. You’re definitely feeling the alcohol.

It’s a battle with your body that you know you’re going to lose, but you still fight on as hard as you can. You start thrusting your hips up, slamming into Karina’s pussy as hard as you can. She starts moaning – perfect. Her pussy tightens, squeezing your cock, it’s almost painful how good it feels now. Her cries muffle, as do Winter’s, and you just know the two of them are glued by the mouths.

The view of Karina and Winter kissing engulfs your thoughts. You’re drooling, still suffocating on Winter’s pussy, and your cock is burning up. The pressure is building, it’s becoming too intense, overwhelming. You hold on, fighting on, trying to make the moment last, gasping into Winter’s pussy as you try to push your hips up.

Then, Winter slips forward just a bit too much, sliding her pussy across your chin. Instinctually, your face follows, and before you know it your tongue is pressing against her tight asshole. You push forward, indifferent, trying to get as deep as possible, using the last remaining ounce of strength in your body as you feel your breaking point approach.

Her asshole feels just as nice against your tongue as her pussy, if not better. Not as wet, but you can feel the tightness. You can feel her reservation, a timidness that fades almost instantly as you press your tongue into her asshole. She eases up, letting your tongue prod and explore her asshole – but it only lasts for a brief, fleeting moment.

Your head drops back, slamming into the bed, and your hips fly up towards the roof. You nearly launch Karina off your cock with how hard you thrust – the final thrust before you blow. Warm and with purpose, your cock shoots deep into Karina’s pussy as you fight desperately for air.

Holding herself just a few inches above you, Winter’s fingering herself, letting her pussy spray across your face with no regard as you gasp it all up, choking through an attempt to catch your breath. She dips her body down every few seconds, bouncing her wet pussy against your face again and again.

But you’re spent. All you can do is lay there, accepting the barrage of attacks, while still internally melting at Karina’s touch. She’s still riding your cock, even as you stop pumping her full, she’s making these little circles with her hips, driving you fucking insane. It’s too much, she’s too good.

Moments pass and Winter collapses next to you, her hand held tightly between her legs, trembling and quivering just enough to notice. Your attention, however, never wavers from Karina. She’s staring down at you, cupping her tits as she grinds up and down your shaft.

She wears this smirk, so confident in her ability. She knows the power she holds over your body, and she fucking loves it, wears it proudly. While from time to time she seeks reassurance with a glance in your direction. The truth is she doesn’t need it, there’s no doubt in her mind that she’s your everything – she owns you.

Karina lifts herself up, your thick white cum threatens to spill from her pussy. She steps off the bed and you almost want to reach out and stop her, but you can’t show how desperate she knows you are. So you let her go, wherever she’s going, and turn your attention to the girl balled up facing away from you on the bed.

You pull your hand back before slamming across Winter’s ass, sending her cheeks recoiling.

“Ah!” she shrieks, instantly turning towards you and covering her behind with her hands. “What was that for?”

“Nothing, just felt like it,” you laugh.

“Idiot…” Winter mutters as she scoots to the edge of the bed. “Is there any champagne left?”

“Yeah,” you sit up next to her and grab your cock. “I think there’s some right here.”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny,” she rolls her eyes before giving you a quick couple of playful tugs. “God, why are you such a mess?”

“Me?” you wrap your arm around Winter’s waist and shove your fingers between her legs. You force her thighs apart as she turns into a giggling mess trying to fight you off. “I’m the mess?”

“Stop!” she’s gasping as you finger-fuck her, pulling away and trying to escape. “Please! I… I can’t breathe!”

She’s laying flat on her back now, chest heaving up and down after you let go of her pussy.

Winter props herself up on her elbows and smirks at you. “I can’t believe you ate my ass.”

“I saw how hard you just came, don’t try pretending like you didn’t like it,” you turn away, leaning over the edge of the bed as the room sways side to side – the hangover is going to be brutal tomorrow,

She lifts herself up and sits on the edge of the bed right next to you again. Winter stares at you until you finally look back. She’s truly adorable, and her voice is just as cute when she speaks up. “I never said I didn’t like it,” she adds quietly, tilting her head and smiling at you.

“I’m glad,” you smile. “It was definitely unexpected.”

“Can we… do you think we could…”

“Already horny for more?” you tease when suddenly Winter frowns and her shoulders drop. “Winter–”

“Do people know?” she asks.

“What?”

She looks up at you, a small pout on her lips, eyes tender and delicate. “What Karina said earlier, do people from the company know about…” she adds quietly.

“No one outside of the three of us knows,” you reassure her as you wrap an arm around her shoulders. “She was just teasing you.”

“Promise?”

“Uh, I mean, I didn’t tell anyone,” you smile. “Did you?”

“No! I’d never–”

“Then I promise,” you interject.

Winter’s expression relaxes slightly and she starts to smile. She inches forward just a touch closer to you and her hand moves to your lap.

“Winter…” you breathe softly.

“Don’t think,” she whispers, leaning in for a kiss. “You’re the boss, just enjoy the moment.”

Her lips are soft and warm, and they wear the same subtle taste of champagne as Karina’s. It’s like she can read your mind, and she gives your cock a final stroke with her fingertips, sliding up your length before getting up and reaching for the bottle.

“I think I need to slow down,” you comment as she brings the bottle directly to her lips.

She holds the bottle out for you to take, using the back of her other hand to wipe her mouth. “Don’t be a bitch, drink.”

“Winter–”

“Shut up and drink,” she glares. “And then you owe me.”

“I owe you?” you accept the bottle with a laugh and take a sip.

“That’s right, you were supposed to fuck me earlier, remember? Before Karina stole you.”

“Oh yeah, where is she by the way?” you glance towards the door.

“Focus!” Winter whines as she grabs the champagne. She holds the bottle over your head and waits for you to open your mouth – even though you know it’s a bad idea to drink more – and she pours the liquid directly down your throat. “Good boy,” she smiles, emptying the rest of the bottle.

“You’re so fucking cute,” you mumble, trying to steady yourself on the bed, immediately feeling the alcohol from earlier hitting you. “But where’s–”

“She’s on the balcony,” Winter snaps before turning around, sticking her ass out and looking back at you. “Now can you fucking pay attention to me?”

“You’re just…” you pause to reach forward and slap Winter’s ass hard, “a stupid slut.”

“Alright dickface,” Winter rolls her eyes before stepping backwards until her ass is right in front of you. She has her legs just slightly bent, hands on her knees, and back arched just a bit. “Go on then, you know what to do.”

You lean forward, nearly falling forward off the bed, catching yourself against Winter’s ass. She buckles for a moment before steadying herself again, and you feel her hand reaching back to push your face into her. But it’s unnecessary, you don’t need any extra encouragement, the view of Winter’s tight little asshole staring at you was all you needed.

A gentle moan escapes your lips as you spread her cheeks wide. She gives her ass a little shake, right before you lunge forward, shoving your mouth into her ass. You push your tongue forward as hard as possible, entering inside her, licking and poking at her hole.

“Oh fuck,” Winter cries out, bringing her fingers between her legs. “That’s so fucking good.”

It’s addicting. You slide your tongue up and down between Winter’s cheeks before pressing forward again. You push into her asshole, moving your hands from her ass to her hips, holding her steady. Her ass is tight and your tongue struggles, but you try nonetheless, using as much strength as you can to spread her wide. The room is spinning, but you try your best to steady yourself, holding onto Winter’s ass for support.

She lets out a shriek and falls forward onto her knees, holding herself bent over in front of you, her fingers moving quickly between her legs. She’s trembling and writhing on the soft carpeted floor, moaning loudly as she fingers herself.

You let yourself slip off the bed as well and get right behind her. That tight little asshole, glistening with your saliva, is staring right at you. As badly as you want to shove your cock into her, it’s impossible – she’s squirming too much, and you know you’re too drunk to make this work right now.

Instead, you settle with a finger. You shove your middle finger down to the knuckle into Winter’s ass and she screams louder than ever. As you move back and forth, you can feel her fingers also moving in her pussy, so you try to alternate and match her. At the same time, you use your other hand to slap her ass hard, over and over.

She’s screaming and moaning, body twitching. It only takes a few more moments before she collapses to the floor, flat on her stomach, entire body quivering as her fingers slip out of her pussy. She lets out a long, drawn-out moan as you pull your finger out of her.

“Are you alive?” you chuckle, giving her ass a few squeezes.

“No,” she moans.

“Well, that’s an issue.”

“You… you need to fuck… me…”

“I think maybe you just need to rest up a bit.”

“No!” she replies forcefully despite still having no energy. “On bed, from behind.”

“Winter–”

“Now.”

You sigh before laughing and shaking your head. Then, you bend down and pick her limp body up from her armpits and place her stomach down against the edge of the bed. Her legs dangle off the edge lifelessly.

“Now fuck me,” she mutters.

“Winter,” you laugh again, tracing the red markings you left on her cheeks from earlier. “This isn’t happening.”

“Okay,” she sighs quietly, and within seconds she’s out, snoring softly.

You give her ass a little pat before putting on a robe and stumbling to the balcony. Outside, you find Karina leaning against the railing, holding an empty glass in her hand, her dress thrown on messily.

“Think you’ve had enough yet?” you take the glass from her hand and place it down before wrapping an arm around her waist, leaning against the railing with her.

“That’s why I’m out here,” she smiles at you for a second before turning to the view again. “Needed the fresh air.”

“You and me both.”

“How’s Winter? I heard her screaming.”

“Turns out she likes getting her ass eaten, who woulda known.”

Karina laughs. “Alcohol does things to that girl.”

“She also got kinda sensitive about people knowing.”

“What?” Karina cocks an eyebrow. “She knows I was joking, right?”

“Yeah, I told her that,” you gently rub Karina’s hip. “I guess it’s a soft spot for her.”

“She’s a really sweet girl, I hope she doesn’t downplay her success,” Karina frowns. “I really like that one, a lot more than your last assistant.”

“I know, I’d keep her around even if I wasn’t fucking her,” you reply. “She really makes my life a lot easier.”

“Yeah, and she sucks you off,” Karina nudges you in the ribs.

“That part matters less to me,” you turn Karina so that she’s facing you. “I’m more than satisfied with what I’m looking at right now.”

“Is that so?” Karina’s eyes glow in the moonlight.

“Absolutely,” you smile at her. “Although, you’d probably have to start showing up at the offices with me.”

“And have all your employees gawk at me all day?” Karina snorts. “No thanks. They fucking suck at hiding it. If I had a dollar for every time I caught one of them staring tonight, I’d be richer than you.”

“Can you really blame them, have you seen yourself?” you laughed. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

There’s a soft pause, Karina smiles at you, her cheeks still rose-tinted from the champagne.

“I really love you,” Karina whispers.

“And I love you.”

“No, really,” Karina frowns as if she’s being misunderstood. She wraps her hands around your lower back and steps closer. “I really, really love you, so much. So much…”

She stumbles, holding onto your body for support.

“Careful,” you grab her. “Should we sit?”

“No, just hold me,” she replies, squeezing you. “I love you.”

“You’re everything to me,” you kiss the top of her head and gently sway back and forth with her. It’s cold on the balcony, but your body is still warm – probably the alcohol.

Karina lets go of you and takes a step back, leaning against the railing.

“I know you just fucked Winter, but I’m still in the mood.”

“I didn’t fuck her.”

“Oh?” Karina raises an eyebrow. “You ate her ass and she didn’t even let you fuck?”

“The girl passed out,” you chuckle. “I wasn’t going to wake her.”

“What about you? Any juice left in there?”

“Depends who’s asking.”

She smirks and pulls her dress down again until her tits are out. “Who do you think is asking?” she pulls on the string of your robe.

“For you, always,” you step forward and press your lips to hers. “But I am a little drunk.”

“I can see that,” Karina giggles as she turns around and leans over the railing, lifting her dress up. “Hold onto something.”

“You know,” you step right behind Karina and place your hand on her waist, “if anyone was to step outside right now, they’d see your tits.”

“Who gives a fuck, let them watch,” she giggles, bending over deeper.

“Did you know I love you?” you grab your cock and slide it up against her pussy.

“So I’ve heard,” she lets out a sharp gasp as you enter her pussy. “Oh! Slowly, please.”

“Anything for you,” you whisper into her ear, leaning closer, holding her tightly as you start moving your hips back and forth.

Her breath catches each time you ease your cock into her. It’s not an act, it’s genuine. In the cool breeze of the evening, you were her warmth, and her pussy yours. There’s no need to rush it, you just have to move your hips slowly against her body, anything you did right now worked, driving her insane without being too much.

Soon, the cold air vanishes, and Karina is consumed by warmth. Her pussy burns up, squeezing your cock gently with each thrust. Her body is obsessed, riding the edge, begging for more without being demanding. Even her moans, louder now, are careful and full of love.

And you can feel it all. Every emotion and sensation, you can feel it through her body. She’s squirming, leaning over more, holding the railing harder. Just a bit more, and it takes all the self-control in your body to keep going like this, part of you wants to grab her, take her, use her.

Just not now, because right now is Karina’s moment. It’s her turn to feel good, to feel loved. You aren’t going to take that away from her.

Her pussy warms up some more and you feel her legs buckle. She cries out, and you grab her for support, making sure she knows you have her. A rush of wetness spills out of her, down her leg, past your cock. She’s struggling now, and you’re basically the only thing holding her up – you can’t even thrust anymore, you’re just holding her as her pussy squeezes down on your cock.

“I love you,” you whisper into her ear before kissing her on the cheek.

She moans a response, still high off her orgasm. It takes her a few moments, a few moments of warmth where you simply hold your cock deep inside her. Finally, she regains enough strength to hold herself up, and she looks back at you over her shoulder.

“C-Can we go inside?” her teeth chatter.

You take her hand and walk her back to your room, closing the balcony door behind you. On your bed, Winter is still laying there with her legs hanging off the edge and her ass up, exactly where you left her earlier. Her cheeks are crimson red, enticing you to walk over and bring your palm down on them yet again, but you hold back.

“Let her sleep,” Karina thinks the same and takes your hand, walking you across the room to one of your armchairs.

She sits you down before dropping to her knees in front of you, staring up at you, gaze as sensual as imaginable. She’s dripping sex appeal from every cell in her body, just by existing, and she knows it, she knows how special she is to you.

“Just relax,” she whispers, delicately stroking your shaft, slowly without pressing. “Let me take care of you.”

Karina leans over and kisses your inner thigh. Just a short peck at first, pausing to gaze up at you before pressing her mouth against your skin again. She kisses deep, sucking and twisting against your skin, leaving a mark before moving her lips back.

Then she presses her tongue to the mark and slides it up your thigh until her lips meet the base of your shaft. She wraps her mouth around the side of your cock and slides her head up and down, as if playing the harmonica.

She’s slow, calculated, deliberate. There’s no need to rush, she knows she has you for as long as she wants – and that’s still not enough. Her lips graze your tip, blessing it with a quick kiss before sliding back down your length and resting against your balls.

Her fingers start to make little circles around your tip and she prods at your entrance lightly with her thumb as her tongue explores your balls. She pushes them around like they’re her toys – which they basically are. Up down left right, wherever she wants, until she opens her lips wide and lets them fall into her mouth.

Karina hollows her cheeks, sucking hard on your balls, coating them in her saliva while sliding her tongue between them. She lets one slip out, squeezing harder against the other until it also escapes. Her thumb is moving a bit faster now, little circles around your tip.

A sharp inhale slides through her teeth before she opens her mouth wide and shoves her face into your taint.

It feels fucking divine, so much better than you were prepared for, you nearly jump out of the armchair. The moan you let out is stifled, your brain doesn’t understand how to react, it’s too much pleasure, an avalanche of dopamine.

At the same time, Karina wraps her fingers around your shaft and starts stroking. She’s no longer slow and delicate, she’s fast. Her lips press hard into your skin, kissing deep, and her fingers give your entire length quick strokes, pausing every few times to make a little circle around your tip with her palm before going right back to your shaft.

“That’s so fucking good,” you moan softly, gripping the armrests until your knuckles turn white. “I fucking love you so much, oh my fucking God.”

She answers with another sharp breath as she backs up just slightly. With her hand still stroking rapidly, she reaches her mouth up and gives your balls a quick peck before pressing her mouth down again, pushing at your taint hard.

Your cock is throbbing, Karina can sense it. She works your length for a few more strokes, giving your skin a few final licks before lifting herself up. Her lips part, she stares at you until you lock eye contact, and then she lowers her mouth onto your cock, replacing her fingers as she moves down.

Inch by inch she goes until her nose presses softly against your crotch before quickly pulling back. Only then does she close her eyes and place her hands on your thighs. She starts bobbing up and down, sucking your cock with everything she has.

It’s inevitable, you’re about to bust. You can’t remember the last time you had a blowjob this fucking phenomal, it’s absolutely perfect to each detail. You can feel her lips squeezing hard against your shaft, her tongue prodding at your tip, the little pressure every time her mouth comes up.

She’s moving steadily, and you’re on the edge. You can’t, no, it’s impossible, but you try desperately to hold on, to make the moment last, begging your body to hold onto the moment for just a bit longer.

You can’t.

The room starts spinning, this time without any credit going to the alcohol. Your cock explodes inside her mouth, gushing cum all over. Instantly, some of it spills from her lips – impossible to contain. But she tries, she tightens her mouth some more, cheeks hollowed once more.

Her eyes flutter open, searching for your gaze, meeting it with more emotion than you can fathom. She’s perfect. Seriously, perfection is all you can think about when you stare down at her, your white mess spilling from her lips despite how hard she sucks against your shaft.

She’s patient, coaxing you to keep going without rushing you. Her tongue pokes and prods gently at your tip, easing out more of your cum until you’re entirely emptied. Everything, she gave you everything, and in return she got everything back, there was nothing left.

Karina sits up, letting your cock leave her lips, ignoring the gush of cum that spills out of her lips and onto her chest. She stares at you, gaze deep and intimidating, focused only on you.

“I love you,” she whispers.

You take her face in your hands, holding her, emotions brimming through your body. Your body is beyond relaxed, blood flowing. You pull her close and press your lips to her forehead, holding for a moment, kissing her gently.

“What did I ever do to deserve someone as amazing as you are?” you whisper softly as you lean back and gaze back into her eyes.

She giggles, then smiles, tilting her head to the side. For a moment, she just stares at you, lovingly and full of emotion. Then, she climbs onto the armchair and wraps her arms around you, holding her warmth against yours, becoming one with you.

She says the line again, you say it right back, and the two of you refuse to let go of the other. Ultimately there’s only one option left – you stay in each other’s embrace until you both peacefully fall asleep, comforted by undying love you share.

---

A/N:

This is a super quick fic. I spent about two evenings on it, purely spontaneous, inspired by my headcannon of them being drunk at that award show. I just love these two girls honestly. I still tried to read through it a few times to make sure there aren't too many mistakes, but sorry if you find some, I also went with present tense instead of past tense with this one so give me some leeway!

I am honestly struggling so hard with some of my other fics (looking at you Dating Seraphs). I know what I want to write, I have it literally planned out, but it's just so tough. Regardless, I appreciate everyone's patience and support. This blog has grown so much more than I could have ever imagined, I just hope I can keep releasing stuff you guys enjoy!

#kpop smut #smut #kpop fanfic #male reader #fanfiction #aespa karina smut #aespa winter smut #aespa smut

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all-with-angel · 2 days ago

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—Sick day

❥ How they take care of you when you're sick! (And minimizing it)

❥ Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna x gn!reader [separate]

masterlist

“I’m fine,” you rasped. Your throat hurt more than you expected. “It’s just a little fever. ”

Your feet, bare and trembling, stuck to the chill of the linoleum as you stood by the counter. One hand braced against the edge. Everything was hazy, like you were underwater and the air around you didn’t quite know how to sit still. Heat throbbed at the back of your neck, uncomfortably scrawling down your back as sweat clung to your clothes.

Still, you told yourself it wasn’t that bad. It was just a fever. A little dizziness. Maybe the flu.

Nothing a nap couldn’t fix.

"You're obviously not okay." He mused, voice a little tighter than a moment ago. God, as much as you loved his voice, every word felt like another hit to your growing headache.

"I said I'm fine-" You turned around quickly, whipping your head in his direction and snapping out an answer. That was clearly the wrong decision as you felt your vision swim and suddenly you were distantly aware that you were about to be very well acquainted with the cold floor.

❥ SATORU GOJO

Satoru had caught you before you were even so much as close to leaning too far to the right, his mouth uncharacteristically pulled into a frown. One that wasn't just a simple pout.

He watched you closely, every breath and uncomfortable shift was known to his eyes. After a few seconds of him squinting those bright blue eyes at you, he sighed in resignation- Voice returning to its usual chipper tone.

"Alright! To the doctors we go!" He hupped once, and suddenly you were comfortably carried princess-style in his arms. "W-wait, no, 'Toru-"

"A-a-ah, no sweetheart, you will be going to the doctors! And you will get better waaaay sooner, 'kay?" he said lightly, but his voice was quieter now. Almost tired. The kind of quiet you only got when someone cared too much.

Satoru had fought curses that split mountains. He’d squared off with enemies that wanted to level entire cities. He was the Strongest. He was a God on the battlefield.

But right now? Right now, he was just a man holding someone who refused to let themselves be cared for.

You sigh in resignation, convinced by his tone. “Fine.”

The next few hours were a blur, you were given a check-up by a doctor you were sure you saw on a billboard once, given a prescription and tucked into bed with a kiss on the forehead as quickly as you could blink. Don’t get him wrong, Satoru was upset.

You didn’t expect care. That made him fume.

You had learned, over and over, that being sick meant being alone. That weakness was a burden no one else had time for. You’d stitched yourself together so many times, it never even occurred to you to ask someone else to help hold the needle.

But he had time. He would make time.

Even if it meant teleporting back home every other hour to check your temperature (Mildly obsessively, even in his eyes) and carrying you to the bathroom when you gave him a quick text. Which, he had to beg you to do whenever you had to get up for whatever reason. You caved ofcourse, even if asking for it made a strong sense of guilt well up in your stomach, you couldn’t resist those blue puppy dog eyes of his.

“Five-star,” he grinned. “Michelin called me personally.”

You blinked blearily at the bowl and tried to sit up, his hand was already at your back as he set the tray to the bedside table.

“You made this?” You wondered, voice a little bit better than earlier as Satoru had helped you sit up properly. “Mhm! All me baby~ Told you I could do it!”

The bowl of soup wasn’t anything special, but it was warm and smelled pretty good from what little sense of smell you had recovered. “And how’s the kitchen?” You hummed as you took a spoonful.

“Let’s not talk about that.”

All in all? 9/10 care imo, minus a point because the kitchen is a mess and he doesnt like doing the dishes so he buys new pots and pans when he had to wash them

❥ SUGURU GETO

You ofcourse, never hit the floor.

But your body did hit soft, silken robes with firm arms keeping you upright. A gentle and cool hand was at your back, rubbing soothing circles as you struggled to even want to open your eyes. It felt comfortable, and frankly, you could feel your headache getting quieter and quieter, quiet enough to hear the whisper of words Suguru had cooed at you. “Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

Now, Suguru knew you didn’t like to be fussed over. He knew that you didn’t think you were worth to be fussed over. That much he knew in the short time he had been with you.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) for you, he was very patient. And he also loved fussing over you. He liked taking care of you, whisking away your worries and sickness.

Suguru had set you back on the bed, tucking you in and checking your temperature. You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him again you were fine- That you always were, but he silenced the words with a shake of his head and a kiss to your lips. He dismissed your words as if you were a child speaking nonsense, determined to give you the love and care you deserve.

The following days really did continue like that, being coddled and shushed whenever you raised a complaint about him mother-henning you. He shut your little insecurities down, comforting you gently while also supplying some sass and sarcasm here and there. (mommy suguru, anyone?)

All of your complaints will be shushed with a kiss- Much to your horror. Try to push him away? Kiss on your hand. Complain about being a burden? Kiss to your lips. Whine about how he might get sick too because of all this kissing? Kiss attack straight to the face

Don't worry, he's really gentle and soft about it!! Each plant of his lips on any part of you is filled with love and care, his touch cool on your feverishly warm skin.

Miraculously he doesn't get sick at all.

He spoonfeeds you your medication, a glass of water ready by the side to help the bitter taste go down easier. Suguru was very familiar with bad tastes, so he'd rather have you not suffer as much as possible.

He lets the girls ‘help’ too! He has them as his little helpers as he makes you the blandest (the healthiest) breakfast, lunch and dinner for you. He makes sure they keep a distance from you though, careful to make sure that not all three of you get sick.

He loves loves loves giving you baths, double, triple and quadruple checking the water before helping you in it. It's soft, it's gentle how he helps you undress and holds your hand to steady you as you get into the tub. He washes your hair, and it dries softer and silkier than you’ve ever had it. Your skin is clear and by the time you were clear of any fever or sickness, you looked almost better than how you looked before you were sick!

See? You should let him take care of you more often!

10/10 very sweet, you get better in 3 days but he extends the care to a week to make sure you aint getting sick anytime soon lol

❥ KENTO NANAMI

The floor? What's that?? For the entire time you’re sick, your feet barely touched the ground. Nanami had caught you with ease before using those big strong arms and carrying you to the bedroom. To be honest, Nanami was a little scared ever since this morning, he had a sinking gut feeling you were going to collapse with how much you had and will probably continue to push yourself.

When you were back in bad, there was suddenly a bowl of freezing cold water on the bedside and an equally freezing towel on your head. You hissed at the feeling, weakly swatting at Nanami’s forearm. “‘ts too cold,”

“It’ll help with your fever. Bear with me, okay?”

After a bit, he does actually start to scold you. In a simple and straightforward tone, he told you that you had to stop pushing yourself and letting yourself go uncared for. He was here, and he was going to be no matter what. He will take care of you, so please rely on him.

Gives you the gentlest but most refreshing massages when your feet and back get sore from laying around in bed all day. He’s strict about you eating before taking medication, even more strict about the medication.

“I can feed myself,” you rasped.

He raised a brow. “No. You’ll say that and take two bites.”

You groan. “I’m not hungry.”

“Please?” He frowned, eyes full of concern. “Just a few more bites sweetheart.”

Oh and how could you say no to that??? Whenever you tried to argue, the second you opened your mouth, he gave you that look again. The one that told you this wasn’t up for debate. So you let him feed you, slow and careful, letting the warmth settle in your stomach as he patiently waited between each spoonful. He dabbed your mouth with a napkin without a word when some broth dribbled down your chin.

11/10 no notes

❥ TOJI FUSHIGURO

“Hey, hey-” Toji caught you easily, he set you down to the floor gently, but not without a slight thud of urgency. “Talk to me. How many fingers am I holding up?” You squinted, a little annoyed and disoriented but answered anyway.

You were pretty sure your answer was wrong judging by the worried way Toji glanced around the room. You could feel the tension in his body as he picked you up with ease and laid you down on the couch. A firm pillow under your head, his palm pressing to your forehead right after.

Your eyes fluttered half open, too heavy to keep focused. You were expecting a lecture, maybe an annoyed huff, maybe even teasing right out the gate- but what you got was something else. He crouched beside the couch, big hands resting on his knees, and just looked at you. His lips were in a tight line, watching you as if you had all the secrets to the universe. “What do you need?”

You blinked, mentally going through a roster of medication and bland food. But not before slowly shaking your head. “Toji, it’s fine. I can get it myself-”

“Bullshit. You almost collapsed on the kitchen floor. Tell me what you need.”

His eyes were serious, but you could see the genuine concern in them. He wanted to help. He just didn’t know how. “...Paracetamol. And water.”

He stood abruptly and stalked off toward the bathroom. You heard drawers opening, cabinets, the scrape of something across tile. When he returned, it was with a bottle of pills in one hand and a thermometer in the other. He crouched again and held them up like you were the authority here.

“This the right stuff?” he asked. “They all look the same.”

You nodded weakly. He popped the cap and shook out two, hesitating. “Wait- is it one or two?”

Now. Toji isn’t exactly the best at taking care of you during your little sick time, but he's trying his best. You teach him once, and he knows exactly what to do the next time. And he’s actually pretty great at distracting you from any pain or qualms you had with being taken care of. He’s funny, poking fun at you once you're over feeling bad for being sick.

He’s a little bit anxious,especially during the times where he had to touch you. It's like he was scared to make it worse, that you’d shatter like glass if he had so much as poked you wrong. Baths were very gentle, and took quite a while- With Toji’s brows furrowed in concentration as you told him what temperature to keep the water at, and to go gentler or slower while he's cleaning your body.

Yes, he makes a few horny jokes here and there, but it's just that. He’s too focused on taking care of you to actually get horny, believe it or not. The anxiety is fucking up is dick game, it seems.

You get better after a week or so, and Toji collapses and promptly gets sick too. 8/10. A+ for effort.

❥ SUKUNA RYOMEN

You were picked up by the shirt before you could hit the floor. In a blur of movement, you find yourself getting hauled back to the bedroom. You could barely hear Sukuna’s voice in the haze, but his tone was low and demanding. The kind he only ever used in the most serious situations as he’d command Uraume. “They’re sick. Fix it.”

“Yes, my lord.”

You weren’t entirely aware of the transition, but when you surfaced again—half-lucid, throat raw and skin burning- you were no longer on your feet. The silken sheets beneath you, the cool dampness of a cloth on your forehead, and the unfamiliar scent of incense and old stone said as much. You knew this wasn’t your room. You knew those weren’t your own hands caring for you.

You saw Uraume above you, fixing the sheets before noticing your gaze. They quickly backed away and bowed, announcing their departure. You stirred again with a groan and caught a flicker of movement: Sukuna, sitting on a chair a few feet away. Watching you. Always watching you.

You recovered quickly ofcourse, thanks to the help of an entire team of doctors tasked with only one thing, to get you back to normal. If they don’t, Sukuna will have their heads. He didn’t like their hands on you. That much was obvious. His silence was thick with an unvoiced threat. His eyes traced every movement of the stethoscope, every raised syringe, every tremble of your lips as you tried to drink water that someone else held for you. He didn’t interfere. But gods help anyone who failed.

He paced the halls at night, bare feet silent on tatami. His fingers twitched. His chest felt hollow in a way he would never name. He’d drag his claws across the stone walls, scratching lines with quiet violence, teeth gritted. You weren’t supposed to be this breakable. You weren’t supposed to look like this. But he couldn’t fix it, now could he?

His hands were made for destruction, he couldn’t help you. That's why he had others do it. Because he was too scared to even touch you.

One night where you were more lucid than others, when your bones didn’t protest at every movement, you had convinced Sukuna to sit right beside the bed. Close enough where you could lean on him while you sat up. He was eerily still, not daring to breathe as you did so.

You get better in 5 ish days! With no casualties! Yay! 10/10 but im biased

A.N. Can you guys tell who I struggled with </3

#Jujutsu kaisen #Jujutsu Kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk scenarios #jjk drabbles #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #geto x reader #suguru geto x reader #nanami x reader #kento nanami x reader #Toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #sukuna x reader #angels drabbles •°. *࿐

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wildflower-ramblings · 3 days ago

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Because I want to quit my job and be a pretty little housewife right now, here’s my thoughts on the 141 and their opinions on the matter

(slight warning for mentions of DV?, breeding kink and housewife kink ahead, as always 18+ MINORS DNI)

Simon would be the least likely to want a housewife. He’s seen what happens to women who have nothing to rely on but their husbands, and whilst he knows he’d never do to you what his father did to his mother, there’s always that niggling voice in the back of his head saying what if. What if he can’t escape his father’s grip, what if he does turn out just like him? Of course he rationalises it to you by saying that if something happened to him, he wants to know you could take care of yourself, even though he knows damn well that he could set you up for life, between his pension and the money he’s stashed by never spending a cent on himself. But he wants you to have something just for yourself, something that couldn’t be taken away by him in any way. But if your job is causing you the slightest amount of stress? He’s the first to tell you to quit. If you want another job you can take your time to find the right one, but he won’t have anything distressing you, even if it’s just a micromanaging boss or tight deadlines.

Controversial opinion but Johnny has a slight preference for a career woman. Nothing against housewives, and he definitely loves seeing you at home by the stove in a pretty little dress telling him dinner’s almost ready, but something about a woman in charge just does it for him (he does love putting a woman on top...and on her back...and on her knees). It turns him on seeing you be confident and capable at work, especially if that job involves giving orders or putting people in their place. Plus it gives his ego a nice boost when he can take that strong independent woman and fuck you absolutely stupid until you can’t even remember your own name. It’s his favourite way to help you de-stress after a bad day. If you want to be a housewife, however...I hope you like kids. Because this man has the biggest breeding kink of them all, and nothing brings it out quite like seeing you being all soft and domestic and taking care of him. Besides, it must be so quiet and lonely when he’s away, wouldn’t it be so much better with a house full of children’s laughter?

Kyle doesn’t care either way. He’s your number one supporter in whatever you do. He’ll let you practice presentations on him and bring you dinner if you’re working late. (Plus both he and Johnny love hearing the office gossip) He’s absolutely got heart eyes listening to you explain some detail about your work. It doesn’t matter what your job is, this man is so proud of you for having it and will brag like hell to anyone who’ll listen. But if you ever wanted to leave your job, he’d still be so supportive. He’s so proud of you for recognising that it was hurting you, and for being strong enough to walk away when everyone else (and society as a whole) tells you you need to have a job to have value. He would do whatever it takes to reassure you that you’re not being a burden, that you don’t have to ‘bring something to the table’ in this relationship – you bring yourself, and that’s enough – in fact most times it’s more than he thinks he deserves. The least he can do is spoil you in return. And he absolutely does. If you want to spend all day on your hobbies, he’s got you – you have all the supplies you could ever dream of (and even some you couldn’t, because he brings back things you’ve never heard of from every deployment). Whatever you want he's 100% behind you (and in front of you, on his knees)

John wouldn’t call himself a feminist (he hates that word. Why does there need to be a special word for what should be obvious?) but he is, for the most part. He’s worked with plenty of women who could leave him in the dust, and sees no difference in a woman or man doing the same job. But you? He wants you at home with nothing to worry your pretty little head over other than what colour manicure to get or how you want to arrange the furniture. Not because he doesn’t think you’re capable of having a job – he knows damn well you could run the whole damn world. But he sees it as his responsibility to look after you, to provide for you, and that extends to everything you could ever want. If he can’t give it to you without you having to lift a finger, then he’s failed as a partner. He puts the fate of the world solely on his own shoulders, and you’re his world, so it makes sense he holds himself to the same rigid standards at home as he does at work. He’ll never admit that he has a raging domesticity kink and wants to fuck you over the kitchen counter wearing nothing but your apron and a pair of heels.

Dividers by cursed-carmine

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glassbxttless · 2 days ago

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No One’s Ever?

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 2.0k+

summary: Eddie’s 26, he’s had girlfriends before, he’s hung out at parties you threw with your college friends, and yet he’s holding back a secret that makes him feel like he’s missing out. You don’t mind fixing that little problem right up for him.

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, oral sex (m receiving), A new budding relationship, Eddie’s first blow job, a pinch of jealousy

notes: Eddie, my baby 🥹😭🫶🏻 This started off as a CC Fest fic, and it quickly evolved into something else lmao. So I hope yall enjoy it! Big thanks to @iitsmandii and @keeryhours for reading this over and @peachyproserpina for editing!

After ten years of friendship, you’d lost track of how many movie nights had ended like this— curled up with Eddie on his couch, both of you pretending you weren’t gradually orbiting closer to each other. Like two dumb magnets circling the inevitable— you’d had the conversation last week, decided you’d give it a go, the whole dating thing. The trailer was cluttered, guitar picks scattered on the side table, an ashtray on the counter that really needed to be emptied, a laundry basket of Eddie’s clothes that had clearly needed a wash.

You were sitting sideways on the couch, your legs stretched across his lap. That old blanket you’d gifted him back before graduation draped over both of your laps. It shows just how hard it’s been loved over the last six years, it’s threadbare, carries holes around the edges that Eddie has asked you to sew and then never brings it ‘round, the edges are fraying and yet, it’s still his favorite blanket. Simply because you had given it to him and now as it’s slung across both of you, your foot sticks out from under it. He picks at a loose string on your sock while the movie, Arachnaphobia, flickers in the background, droning on and on completely ignored.

Your eyes drift over your best friend’s— no, your boyfriend’s— face. His eyes focused down on what his hands are doing. He pulls the string loose and tears it from the fabric, leaning forward to toss it onto the coffee table before settling back in against the cushions. You watch as lean muscle moves under the faded Iron Maiden t-shirt that was definitely not his. You knew Eddie’s wardrobe and you knew he had never worn this one before. You figure it was Gareth’s by the way it rode up a bit in the back when he had leaned up. You smile, watching as he shakes his curls out just slightly, sighing.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” he says quietly— chewing the inside of his cheek raw— but his voice comes off casual.

You finally meet his eyes, your eyebrows lifting in curiousity. “Yeah?”

He hesitates for a moment. It’s not dramatic, nor performative. It’s just long enough to let you feel the nerves bubbling up to the surface of his chest. He drags his hand upwards, his fingers pausing at your ankle. And then he runs his fingers up and down, rubbing gently at your skin. His fingertips are calloused and rough, but his palms warm, strong even. Your mind immediately drifting back to the way they had cupped your face the night he had told you he loved you at the feel of them. How he was so worried he’d ruined the friendship you had built up— he’d done it once before back in school, fucked up with a friend because his heart had gotten too involved. But you didn’t care, you just leaned into him, kissed him back, and—

“I’ve never had a blowjob,” he finally sighs, his eyes darting away from yours as his shoulders deflate. He leans back into the cushions, his index finger tapping against your ankle.

You blink, surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” He lets out a self-conscious laugh, afraid you were just teasing him for half of a second. His mouth quirks up in an embarrassed smile as his cheeks start to pinken. “Kind of pathetic for a guy my age, right?”

You shake your head, sitting up just a little as one of your hands slides around his shoulders. “No… It’s just a bit unexpected... You’ve always talked like you were a walking sex manual.”

He huffs out another laugh and shakes his head. “Yeah, well... High school was all fumbles and dry-humping, and college…” He waves a hand vaguely in the air. Eddie didn’t go to college, his memories were just visits that consisted of him and Gareth trying to bang your roommates and nothing more than that. “I got good at some stuff. Fingering. Going down on girls. I’m not a total idiot. But somehow, no one’s ever offered to, y’know…”

You give him a look, a mix of confusion and pity. You rub his back gently, his shoulders, the back of his neck. Anywhere you can reach to make him just feel. “No one’s ever gone down on you, baby?”

“Not once.” He laughs again, but it was a little tighter, like he had just revealed his darkest secret. He fidgets a bit, shifts his hips under you. His hand tightening around your ankle for just a moment as he spreads his thighs just a little to get comfortable. But if you two were gonna try this dating thing, you might as well know. “I had one girl say she’d do it later.” You watch as he pulls at another loose string of your sock, biting his lip, nerves apparent with the way his brows are knotted down, before he speaks again, “Later never came. A few others just weren’t into it, I guess. I never wanted to be that guy who begged for it.”

You shift just a bit closer, your fingers brushing his wrist that had settled across your legs. “That really sucks, Eds.”

He shrugs, trying to play it off, but his pink cheeks are a dead giveaway. “It’s not like I’m really losing sleep over it, just… sometimes I think about it. Wonder if I’m missing out on something good, y’know?”

You pause, letting the silence stretch thin between you. Then you leaned in close to him again, your voice a whisper. “You are.”

He looks at you, his eyes sharpening just a little at the taunt. “Yeah? Am I?”

You nod at him, biting the inside of your cheek before you let out a breath. “And I’d like to fix that… If you want me to, that is.”

There’s a moment where you swear the only thing you can hear is Eddie’s heartbeat— just one moment— but then he exhales and smiles, a real big one this time. Crooked and soft and fucking stunned.

“You’re being serious, babe?”

“I am,” you say softly and nod, the blanket falling to the floor as you shift to straddle his lap. You run your fingers through his hair, catching on knots that you work out carefully. “Dead serious. Wanna let me blow your mind?”

Eddie lets out a laugh, not being able to believe what was unfolding in front of him. “God, I must’ve saved a fucking kitten from a burning building in a past life or something for this to be happening.”

“This is just what girlfriends do, Eds. Calm down.” You roll your eyes and kiss him— slow, steady, your hand twisting slightly at a bit of his hair— and he melts like warm wax right into you. His arms slide around your waist, his breath catching in his throat when you rock against him just once. By the time you pull away, his mouth is hanging slack and his pupils are blown wide. “Take your pants off,” you giggle softly. “Now.”

He obeys like he’d been waiting for you to give that order his entire life. He fumbles with the button on his jeans as you slide off his lap, sinking to your knees on the floor in front of him. His cock was already hard and strained against the black fabric of his boxers. He hisses when you pull the waistband back, revealing his cock, flushed and heavy, the tip fucking glistening.

You look up at him from between his thighs and see something you hadn’t really expected to see, you never had before, not like this— he was flushed up to his ears, his breathing shallow. He was fucking nervous as hell.

“You okay?” you ask softly, your hand rubbing along his thigh gently.

He nods, swallowing hard. “Just… fuck. Yeah, I’m fine… this just feels really real now. Like we’re dating dating.”

You smile at him, rolling your eyes a bit. “That’s because it is real, Eddie.”

You lean in and press your lips to the crease of his inner thigh first, kissing gently as your eyes flick up to watch his breath hitch. Then you move, pressing a kiss just above the base of him, then lower, dragging your mouth along his length without taking him in.

His hands clench at his thighs, trying to find a place to rest them. “You’re really gonna take your time with this, huh?”

You hum softly against the underside of his cock, moving back to nudging your nose against the base of him. “Damn right I am.” When you finally move up and wrap your lips around the head, his breath leaves his chest in one shocked, broken exhale.

“Holy shit,” he groans softly, his hips twitching up as he squirms under your touch. “That— fuck— your mouth is so warm, Jesus Christ—”

You suck gently, letting your tongue swirl around his heavy length, then you ease down slowly, taking him into your mouth inch by inch. By the time your nose presses into that thatch of brown curls at the base, his thighs are trembling. His hands hover over your head uselessly, trying to decide whether to hold your hair or cling to the couch cushions beneath him.

You glance up at him through your lashes, to be met with the sight of him looking down at you like you were some divine cosmic event— his eyes wide, lips parted as a soft breath escapes them, his chest heaving. “This is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me,” he mutters softly. “And I once had sex in the back of a hearse, so that’s saying something— fuck, do that again.”

You bob your head just a bit more. A little faster this time, stroking what you couldn’t take in your mouth with your hand. He groans so loud at the feeling— tossing his head back against the cushions— you were sure his next door neighbor heard.

“Shit— fuck, baby, that’s— goddamn, I’m not gonna be able to look at you again after this without getting hard.”

You moan around him at the compliment, hollowing your cheeks, and he actually gasps, closing his eyes.

“Oh fuck, okay, okay— if you keep doing that I’m gonna— shit— fuck, I’m cumming—”

You don’t stop, your mouth working him through it. His hips shallowly thrusting up into you with each little grunt from the back of his throat. You swallow everything as you pull away, then give one last gentle kiss to his twitching tip as he slumps against the back of the couch.

You climb back up beside him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You settle yourself back into your earlier seat, toss your legs back over his lap, and drape the blanket over both of you again.

He stares at the ceiling for a moment, completely still. His chest rising and falling slowly, but his mind racing. He’s never gotten a blow job before that, but you sure as hell have given one. It pangs deep in his heart. Some guy from your college got your mouth before he did? If he thinks too hard about it, his chest may combust. So he shakes it off, and then he laughs, “I am literally never going to shut up about this.”

You laughed. “I’d be disappointed if you did.”

He turns his head back to look at you, bright red cheeks adorning his face, still catching his breath. “You just gave me the best orgasm of my entire fucking life, and now I have to figure out how to go on living with that.”

You smirk, moving closer to him settling in against his chest. He throws his arm around your shoulders, rubbing your lower back as you whisper, “You’ll manage.”

There’s a long pause between the both of you before he chuckles, “…You’re gonna let me return the favor, right?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Eventually.”

He grins. “Cool. Cool cool cool. Just making sure. Because I’ve got a lot of fucking pent-up blowjob karma to balance out.”

tags ;; @vinecstasy @emxxblog @samslvrgirl @robinbuckleywife @hazydespair @joelmeller @djomorelikedelulu @dancininseptember @peachyproserpina @missjadesfics @iheartgrayson @meetmeatyourworst @punkrockmlchael @prettycalla @getaapologist

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #cw: oral sex #joseph quinn #joseph anthony francis quinn #joe quinn #joey quinn

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venusveil · 3 days ago

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Unpopular opinion

(about the zodiac placements)

[⚠️ Disclaimer: This post contains mature content. Viewer discretion advised.]

☃︎Virgo Moons aren't clean freaks — they’re just emotionally constipated with a label maker.

☃︎Scorpio Risings don’t intimidate people — they just look like they hate everyone (including themselves).

☃︎Someone said Leo Moon Needs attention like plants need sun. And I gasped dramatically. (a Leo Moon)

☃︎Pisces Rising doesn’t have “aesthetic” — they have main character delusions with a blurry filter.

☃︎Libra/Scorpio is loyal... but only when they feel like you’re giving them main character energy. If not? Bye.

☃︎Pisces Mercuries will lie to your face cry about it and then forget they even did it.

☃︎Sagittarius Venuses don’t fear commitment — they fear boredom. Yes, that includes you babe.

☃︎Venus in Aquarius has Detachment kink. Will have you in a situationship for 3 years and call it “energy exchange.” Wants to be your partner, best friend, cult leader, and FBI agent.

☃︎ A Mars in Leo partner Will f*ck you like it’s an Olympic sport and expect a 10/10 review. Gets angry if you don’t moan their name like a prayer.

☃︎I’ve got Sagittarius Mercury in the 3rd — anytime something bad, good, or nostalgic hits me, I write. Been journaling since I was 9, mostly about people and how I see them.

☃︎Gemini Suns are not two-faced — they just have 87 tabs open and one of them is definitely plotting.

☃︎Libra Risings don’t flirt they’re just trying to survive awkward social tension by being extra friendly.

☃︎Cancer Suns aren’t sweethearts — they’re passive-aggressive historians of every wrong ever done to them.

☃︎Mars in Gemini will talk you into a threesome, ghost you, then DM you a month later like nothing happened.

☃︎Cancer Mars is horny for emotional danger. If it doesn’t feel like a toxic situationship. they’re not turned on.

☃︎Venus in Leo gets off on jealousy. Flirting in front of their partner is foreplay not betrayal.

☃︎Virgo Venus is secretly into degradation kink but will judge your grammar mid-hookup.

☃︎Aries Mercury wants to argue just to get horny. “I hate you” = “Take your pants off.” hehe.

☃︎Aquarius Mars will ghost you mid-sex to “reconnect with their higher self.”

☃︎Libra Sun will pretend they’re innocent but their search history says otherwise. The first time I met my best friend (she's a libra) I literally thought she was the most innocent person ever. In reality she's far away from innocence.

☃︎Taurus Moon doesn’t care about your feelings unless you’re in their bed and brought snacks. Preferably both.

☃︎Capricorn Venus doesn’t fear love — they fear looking stupid for loving someone.

☃︎Libra Mercury isn’t a good communicator — they just know how to dodge accountability with charm.

☃︎I don’t hate Geminis — I actually love them.Except the ones with Pisces mixed in.Those are lying, manipulative chaos goblins. Sorry not sorry.

☃︎Sagittarius Moon isn’t deep — they just trauma-dump and leave.

☃︎Scorpio Mercury doesn’t keep secrets — they collect yours.

☃︎Aquarius Sun – Thinks they’re mysterious but just avoidant and allergic to real connection.

☃︎One thing about Aquarius: they’ll treat their friends like family, but stay emotionally detached from their actual family.

☃︎Libra Moon – Can’t process their own emotions, but gives everyone else therapy

☃︎Libra & Taurus placements do love beauty, but will still date the most questionable-looking people ever.

Libra/Taurus Venus or Mars, though? Nah. We need to be visually obsessed. I’m a Libra Venus & Mars — tried dating someone I wasn’t into ended up isolating myself.

☃︎Scorpio Sun + Leo Moon They will watch your story 5x, analyze your texts, and never admit it. These baddie falls first. But they’ll die before telling you. (I'll die single but never admit that I've crush on you.)

#astro #astro community #astro observations #astro notes #astro placements #astroblr #astrology #astronomy #space #astrophysics #natal placements #natal chart

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ifyouencounterwolf · 2 days ago

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Normalize this normalize that, we as writers and ARTISTS need to normalize NOT to see any critiques/negative feedback of our WORKS as a critique of OURSELVES.

When your work is finished and posted, it is done. It marks the end of a unique creative process and is now by and large independent from you. No matter how much of a magnus opus you think of it, you will be creating something better in the near future. So how would that posted work serve you now? By getting the FEEDBACKS from your readers.

How did that make others feel? Did it do the job of disturbing people or comforting people that you have intended it to do? Do people feel something unintended from your work? Do people feel anything from your work? Those are things as authors, we needed to know about, in order to know more about ourselves, and that's not just about our current skill levels.

Believe it or not, there's no inherently bad feedback, the negative ones are not inherently different from positive ones. They are all. just. feedback. They don't define you as a person, they are not attacking you as a person. Even with the worst kind "I hate this so much hope you kys" you could either ignore or ask how they hate it and where do they hate the most. Hate supply is still supply as my narc self would say.

That is, unless you are creating something for money and engagement/attention, and getting criticized will destroy your so-called celebrity fame and break the illusion that you are a prodigy and you don't need efforts to improve like everyone else on this planet earth. But sis, that's your problem.

Writing is a way of communication and forming a discussion, conversations cannot happen if either side is not allowed to speak freely. That goes for both the bad readers who demand authors to stop writing certain topics that disturb them, and bad writers who demand special treatment from the world simply because they created something for free and they thought they have a certain moral superiority to the "free-loaders".

Yes. You did create something for free and you didn't ask for the criticism. But you did that out of love and passion didn't you? Because as human beings, we are privileged to have this creative mind and this desire to express ourselves through our artworks, we live inside our own world but sometimes we want others to take a look at it and therefore we write something or we draw something and they reflect our thoughts and experiences and imaginations.

So what do our readers owe us? ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.

No one had this moral obligation to only make compliments and really really really mild suggestions and they still have to live in fear thinking whether the authors are still going to get offended because they interpreted "Looking forward to updates" as a demand or "I thought I wouldn't like it but I did" as a jeer.

Damn, if I'm a reader I would just say FORGET IT. I like it or I don't like it, who cares about my opinion? One wrong word would get me in fandom jail.

Except we do fucking care. Do you know what a purgatory I'm living in when I wrote my heart and soul out and people are just not going to leave anything for me to know how I did?

The readers' silence and uncaring to artists is a much more cruel punishment than their hate.

We have talked so much about "don't like it don't click" as a gotcha for the readers, but how about "don't like it but still give it a chance and tell me about it even if you still don't like it"? Because I trust you as my audience, that you have sufficient levels of media literacy and you have good tastes, and you can engage with artworks responsibly... THAT'S WHY I POSTED IT.

I could have just shown my stuff to only a small friend circle and let them be the judge but I chose to put it out there. Because I wanted it to stir up something so I could engage in conversations with people who only know me through my work and I would prefer it to stay that way. If the conversation is just about my typos and my grammar be it that way. It's still better than nothing.

That being said, we should not make it a consensus that readers need to give only compliments or just shut up. We should make authors themselves decide whether they wanted to be criticized or not. Authors can absolutely set up boundaries on how their works should be engaged, authors could say that "I want feedback but please don't nitpick my grammar or typo" or "this is personal to me/I am a first time writer so please be more gentle with your feedback".

But if you don't say anything then consider your work a free game if you may. See who catches the most of your hidden details and symbolism and see who asks the most annoying questions. Damn. As a writer that would actually be my dream.

not to be controversial bc I know this is like…not in line with shifting opinions on fanfic comment culture but if there’s a glaring typo in my work I will NOT be offended by pointing it out. if ao3 fucks up the formatting…I will also not be offended by having this pointed out…

‘looking forward to the next update’ and ‘I hope you update soon!’ are different vibes than a demand, and should be read in good faith because a reader is finding their way to tell you how much they love it. I will not be mad at this.

‘I don’t usually like this ship but this fic made me feel something’ is also incredibly high praise. I’m not going to get mad at this.

even ‘I love this fic but I’m curious about why you made [x] choice’ is just another way a reader is engaging in and putting thought into your work.

I just feel like a lot of authors take any comment that’s not perfectly articulated glowing praise in the exact manner they’re hoping to receive it in bad faith.

fic engagement has been dropping across the board over the last several years, and yes it’s frustrating but it isn’t as though I can’t see how it happens. comment anxiety can be a real thing. the last thing anyone wants to do is offend an author they love, and that means sometimes people default to silence.

idk where I’m going with this I guess aside from saying unless a comment is outright attacking me I’m never going to get mad at it, and I think a lot of authors should feel the same way. ESPECIALLY TYPOS PLZ GOD POINT OUT MY TYPOS.

#personal #tbd.

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erule · 2 days ago

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Teenage dream | b.r.

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x reader

Summary: you’re in love with Bob, but he doesn’t know that and this is tearing you apart. Until one day, he tells you to ask him what you’ve been eager to know.

Warnings: angst, fluff, friends to lovers trope, making out (reader and Bob are both 18+ here), Thunderbolts* spoilers ahead

Word count: 1.7K+

A/N: hi guys! I’m back with a ff with Bob Reynolds, because I just loved his so much in the movie (and Lewis too ofc!!). Feedback is always appreciated by a writer! I hope you enjoy it 🌙

Main Masterlist

MCU Masterlist

Somehow, you’ve always known that. Since the first time he entered in the room, you’ve felt something, a sort of an energy or a vibe. Yelena looked at you, because she got it even before you could even comprehend what was happening inside of you. It was like a teenage dream that would come to reality. Bob said hello to everybody and your eyes lingered on his face more than you would do with a stranger. You knew what he did, but you didn’t really care about it. You weren’t scared. After years of working with the Avengers, you knew the risks.

It was even funnier, when Bucky asked you, door closed behind you, if you were sneaking out with him. You gulped, embarrassed, but also giggled at the thought. You wished you would, but no, that wasn’t you. He was having some kind of affair with somebody else. You shrugged, then you went away in order to go back to your room, but you found Yelena next to your door.

“He did it, didn’t he?” She asked and you nodded. Yelena sighed, tired. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I told him you weren’t doing anything with Bob, but he wanted to know it directly from you. Did it hurt you?”

“Not quite as when I saw Bob kissing Sarah,” you answered. Sarah was the classic girl next door: simple, cute and nice. You had nothing against her, really, but you weren’t glad to see her with your beloved Bob. Oh, you sounded so riddiculous!

You sighed, while preparing yourself to get into the shower. Yelena gave you a T-shirt for later.

“I can only imagine,” Yelena said, while sitting on your bed. “If I could do something about it, like smashing his face into the wall or…”

“Unfortunately, you can’t,” you replied with a smile. “Still, I love you for that”.

“No, I don’t like all of these emotions. I’m gonna get out from here. See you at dinner, babe,” she said and you waved at her.

Sometimes, you thought that she was your only friend beside of Bob. How do you really talk to your friend about you being in love with them? You got into the shower in order to go to dinner very fast. You changed your clothes, then you did your hair. You were wearing your shoes, when somebody knocked at the door.

“Hey,” a sweet voice said and you recognized it immediately.

“Hi,” you replied and your heart began to race.

“I… uhm… know, from Walker, that Bucky wanted to talk to you about something urgent today. Is everything alright?” He asked and you didn’t really know how to answer. You remained silent for a couple of seconds, so he shaked his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to intrude. I was just worried about you. Bucky can be very unpleasant, sometimes”.

“Sometimes?” You joked and he smiled.

“Multiple times”.

“Anyway, thank you for your concern, but it was nothing serious”.

Then, he gulped, nodding, his shoulder on the door jamb and his fingers intertwined. You looked at him, your lips parted as if you were about to ask him a question, but you didn’t. He seemed to as well, though.

“I’ve missed this,” he said.

“What?”

“This,” he repeated, pointing at him and you with a finger. “Us. Being friends, making jokes. Whatever we were before”.

“Before what?”

“Before I got with Sarah,” he said and you gulped, trying to hide your sense of guilt. Your feelings.

“We’re still friends,” you stated and it was true.

“I know,” he replied, then he walked towards you and you started to feel uncomfortable.

“Please, don’t,” you said. You couldn’t handle it anymore.

He stopped.

“I know that there’s something off here, Y/N. Just tell me,” he said and you felt terrible. He was really trying to have his friend back, but you couldn’t even admit that you were in love with him with yourself, let alone with him! You bit your bottom lip. Who knows what Void would have seen, if only he could. Maybe your secret dreams about him or the lowest point of your life, when you followed him to see why he would always go to the cafè in front of the compound. You were ashamed of yourself. He couldn’t touch you, otherwise he would have found out everything.

“I can’t. I’m sorry,” you found the courage to say, but he sighed.

“Y/N, if I did anything to offend you, I’m sorry,” he said. “You know that I wouldn’t hurt a fly, come on”.

You tried to hold back the tears.

“People can’t know anything”.

“True,” he said, while getting slowly closer to you. Your skin began to get hotter very fast, as if his only presence could make you feel warmer. “But they’re not my friends”.

“I don’t want to know your personal life’s secrets”.

“Something’s telling me you do,” he said with the ghost of a smirk on his pale face. You tilted your head. “You could live with the doubt forever or… you could just ask”. You gulped. “Ask me”.

You released the breath you were apparently holding. When you were just a teenager, you used to fantasize about a lot of fictional and real guys as if it was some kind of game, but now, all of this didn’t seem like a game to you anymore. He was real, in front of you, asking you to make him a question. So you did.

“Why not me?”

You knew why he chose her, it wasn’t a stupid challenge between two people being in love with the same guy. It was about you and him, this time. It was about being the second chance again.

His eyes flickered. For a moment, he wasn’t Bob anymore. He was Void and Void knew how to break into your heart like nobody else. You wondered if you made the right call.

“Because it was easier,” he answered. You were confused. Easier to be with somebody less demanding than you? Easier than breaking a friendship? “Easier to fake that I didn’t care about you as much as I do,” he said, as if he could read your mind. “Everytime I look at you during a mission, I hope that our enemies don’t get how much I love you. Everytime I see you walking into the compound, I ask myself if Bucky or Yelena or anybody else knows that I’m wrapped around your finger. And every damn time that something bad happens, I fear that it happened to you and that I wasn’t there to protect you”.

The tears were rolling on your cheeks at that point.

“It’s unfair”.

“What? That you didn’t tell me that you were in love with me?” He asked.

“That you’d rather sneak around with anybody but me”.

“You’re being mean,” he said, clenching his jaw.

“And you’re breaking my heart”.

He looked at you as if you just broke the ice into his eyes and now he was bleeding on the outside. His eyes were glossy and circled in red.

“Well, then it’s a good thing that you did the same with mine, I guess”.

That was the moment in which your heart shattered into pieces.

***

Yelena was very focused while listening to your argument with Bob, but once you were finished, she rolled on the bed, exhausted. A corner of your lips turned up in half a smile.

“You’re unbelievable!” You exclaimed, but she threw a pillow at you.

“Am I? You’re the one who fought with the love of her life over a stupid thing!”

The skin of your face started to burn.

“He’s not… He’s not the love of my life”.

“Babe, come on, he is. And he has been for as long as I can remember. Probably, you were dreaming about him when you were still a teenager”.

You sighed. It was like she could read you. That was probably why you felt something already when he just entered into the room and he light it up like it was the easiest thing to do on the planet. At that point, you couldn’t even lie anymore: you were desperately in love with him.

“You think that he was right all along?”

Yelena got up from the bed and shaked your hand.

“Y/N, have you met us? We’re the new Avengers: we go on missions, we try to save the world while we also make stupid jokes about dying in a cool way. Yeah, he’s pretty much right”.

You sat down on the bed.

“I ruined everything, didn’t I?” You asked her, while your hands are on your face.

“Maybe not,” she said and you could feel that she was smiling.

You get up immediately from the bed, as if you could feel his presence. It’s like a dream coming true. He’s standing again with an arm on the door jamb, hands in the pockets and a curl of his hair on his forehead. He had never looked more beautiful, if that was possible.

Yelena left the room with a smile on her face.

“Hi,” you said, incredibly guilty.

“Hi”, he replied. Even his voice was like drinking cold water during a hot Summer day. It was refreshing for your ears. His face, on the other hand, was a breath of fresh air. He really was the man you’ve been looking for you whole life. You even dreamt about him when he was still a character in your head. “What you said the other day… it really hurt me”.

“Bob, I’m so…”

“No,” he interrupted you. “Let me finish. Honestly, I could have handled it in a better way. I also wasn’t fair to Sarah, you were right, so I broke up with her immediately after our argument”.

You were at a loss for words.

He walked closer to you. His fingertips caressed your cheek and he was looking at you as if you were the sun and he was desperate to warm up. You felt electricity running through your veins, some tiny shots that were jumping from your back to your neck. He used his thumb to part your lips gently. Your eyes were burning because of the tears behind them. Please, let this moment never come to an end, you thought. Then, he placed his lips on yours and you lost every control over your nerves. Your hands felt the urge to tighten around his hair and your lips became hot and swollen after a short time of kissing. It was like the whole world has disappeared into his embrace. Every fantasy you had when you were little had now become a reality. You couldn’t even believe it. Every dream of yours was now there, in front of you. And they were all worth the wait.

#erule's masterlist #bob reynolds x reader #lewis pullman x reader #void x reader #sentry x reader #robert reynolds x reader #thunderbolts #bob reynolds x you

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bucketgetter535 · 2 days ago

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Overhead lights and other forms of violence

WC: 1.5k CW: NONE Notes: I giggled while writing this ngl. lmk what y'all think. Based on this prompt

The room was quiet except for the slow buzz of the fan in the corner. Dallas light leaked through the blinds in horizontal slats, warm and thin and late. Paige blinked once, her eyes sticky, the sweat from the nap still clinging under her shirt. Her phone vibrated again on the pillow beside her.

Azzi.

Paige exhaled through her nose and hit accept without even looking.

“Hey,” she croaked, voice low, uneven.

“Hey, did I wake you up?” Azzi’s voice was clear but soft, careful, and Paige could already picture her face: brows slightly pulled, hair still up, probably still in the outfit she wore to the charity event if she hadn’t changed yet.

Paige blinked slowly, staring at the ceiling fan. “Yeah. But it’s okay.” She swallowed, and the pressure behind her eyes returned, dull but present. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten. Sorry. There were a million speeches. And kids. And donors. I didn’t want to call too late.”

Paige rubbed her temple, then winced. The touch had felt sharp. Not pain, exactly. More like her skin couldn’t decide whether to allow contact. “No, I’m glad you did. Today was just… weird.”

A long pause. Then: “Still bad?”

“Yeah.” Paige turned onto her side, slowly, cradling the phone. Her head felt like it weighed thirty pounds and was made of cotton and wet sand. “It’s not even the headache anymore. It’s like… I can’t explain it. I’m here, but not. Like my body’s two seconds behind me.”

Azzi was quiet for a second. “You sound tired.”

“I’m always tired. Even when I nap. I slept for four hours just now and I still feel like I could pass out.”

“I’m sorry.” Azzi’s voice didn’t waver, but it curled a little softer around the words now. “I wish I was there.”

“Me too.” Paige meant it in the heaviest way. Dallas didn’t feel like hers yet. The walls in her apartment were too white. The ceiling too high. Every sound echoed differently when she was alone. She missed Connecticut. Or maybe she just missed Azzi.

“You’re staying on concussion protocol, right?” Azzi asked gently.

Paige smiled without smiling. “Yeah. I’m not doing anything.”

“No screen time?”

“…No excessive screen time,” Paige said, toeing the line. “I’m just texting.”

“Have you talked to the trainer?”

“Yeah. She’s good. They’re all good.” Paige felt her throat tighten. “I just hate feeling like this. I feel like someone else.”

Azzi didn’t say anything for a beat. Then: “You’re still you.”

“Well… I don’t feel like it.”

Another pause. The silence between them wasn’t awkward, never was, but Paige felt the stretch of it this time. It made the room feel bigger, the distance louder.

“I wish I could teleport,” Azzi murmured.

“God. Same.” Paige’s eyes shut tight. “You’re in Connecticut until when?”

“End of June,” Azzi said. “I know. I know that sucks.”

“Yeah,” Paige whispered. It did. “I know you have to be there. It’s just…” She let out a breath. “You’d make this feel less awful.”

“I wish I could do something.”

“You’re doing it. You called me.”

Azzi didn’t reply right away, but Paige could hear her breathing. Steady, calm. Familiar. The thing that used to settle her before every game when nerves used to crackle up her back.

Paige curled tighter around her pillow. “Did the event go okay?”

“Yeah. It was good. Boring in the ways it’s supposed to be.” Azzi’s tone was still tender, but lighter now, just a little. “A little girl asked me if I eat cereal with orange juice instead of milk because of my arms.”

Paige huffed a weak laugh. “What did you say?”

“I said yes. That’s my secret.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“I know.”

It was quiet again, but this time Paige didn’t mind. Her eyes were heavier, but not the scary heavy. Not the one that meant the world was slipping away. Just tired. Real tired.

“I’m gonna fall asleep again,” she murmured.

“That’s okay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Azzi said, without hesitation, like she always did. “Call me if you wake up weird, okay? I’ll keep my phone on.”

“M’kay.”

The call ended eventually. Paige didn’t remember hitting the red button. But when she opened her eyes again, the room was quiet, and her phone was still warm under her hand. And even with her head thick and her chest tight, she didn’t feel quite as far away.

–

Paige drifted again.

Sleep pulled her under slow, like the tide, no sharp drop this time. Just the kind where her thoughts stretched out until they weren’t thoughts anymore. Only the occasional pulse of her head reminded her she was still stuck in the in-between, that post-concussion limbo where even dreams felt wrong — too vivid, too warped. She turned over once, chasing cool fabric, and sank again.

The door knocked once. Then again, louder. A beat later, it creaked open.

“Paige?” a voice stage-whispered. Nalyssa.

“She’s probably dead asleep,” she added, too loud to be inside.

“Shut up, Lyss.” Dijonai’s whisper wasn’t any better. “This is her apartment.”

“Still. I don’t wanna get tackled by the spirit of Geno Auriemma or whatever if we wake her up.”

There was a rustle of bags and the smell of fries (real fries, not sad arena food) and maybe barbecue. Or Cajun chicken. Something warm. It hit Paige in waves, floating into her dream just enough to stir her again.

She was already starting to open her eyes when—

CLICK.

“Damn!” Lyss yelped, slamming her finger on the switch. The overhead light flooded the room in cruel, fluorescent brightness. Paige hissed, folding inward like a dying star.

“Oh my God, Lyss!” Dijonai was already sprinting across the room, flicking the light off. “You’re going to melt her brain!”

“It was an accident!” Lyss whisper-yelled, and then immediately tripped over Paige’s sneaker near the couch. “Why is this girl living like a college freshman in here?!”

Paige groaned, one arm flopped over her face. “Y’all are so loud.”

“Bro, you’re the one with the concussion,” Dijonai said, kneeling down beside her on the couch. “You don’t get to call us loud.”

Paige didn’t answer, just let her hand drop over the edge of the cushion. Her head throbbed dully, not worse, just constant. Everything else felt like it was on mute. Her tongue tasted like Gatorade and sleep. She felt floaty again, like her body had lost half its weight.

Nalyssa dropped onto the couch beside her with all the grace of a linebacker, the cushions bouncing. “You look like you been time-traveling. You good?”

“No,” Paige muttered, her eyes still closed.

“That’s okay,” Dijonai said, shifting Paige’s hair back from her face like a sister or maybe someone’s cool babysitter. “You don’t gotta be good right now.”

“We brought food,” Lyss added, holding up the bag like it was a peace offering. “And I didn’t even touch your fries on the drive over, which is how you know I care.”

“Mostly because we stopped at three places so this princess could have her weird grilled shrimp,” Dijonai muttered.

“She’s concussed, she deserves options.”

Paige cracked one eye open. “Y’all are insane.”

“Thank you,” Lyss said proudly, kicking her shoes off. “Now eat something. Or just hold it and breathe near it. You look like you haven’t chewed in days.”

“I have eaten,” Paige insisted. “Just… like, slow. And I keep forgetting.”

“Mmhm.” Dijonai stood, took the food, and disappeared into the kitchen. She came back with a bottle of water and a plate that already smelled like heaven. “Sit up. Eat three bites. Then you can pass out again.”

Paige struggled upright, very slowly, blinking through the haze. Her legs felt like jelly and her spine was on a two-second delay. But she obeyed. Something about Dijonai’s tone made it clear: no arguing.

Nalyssa sat cross-legged on the rug, popping her own fries one at a time. “I hate seeing you like this. Like for real.”

“It’s temporary,” Paige mumbled, balancing the plate on her lap.

“It better be,” Dijonai said, settling next to her. “We need you back on the court. Did you see how ass we looked today?”

Paige didn’t reply. She took a bite of chicken, chewed once, and stopped — not because it tasted bad, but because the act of chewing felt like it required algebra.

Dijonai noticed. “Even the food too much?”

Paige nodded. “I just feel… off. Like my soul is lagging.”

Lyss blinked. “Bro.”

“That’s the most concussed thing I’ve ever heard,” Dijonai muttered, but her hand came to rest gently on Paige’s knee.

Paige swallowed and set the plate down. Her chest ached. Not sharp, not pain, but the hollow kind. The missing-Azzi kind. The far-from-home, something’s-wrong kind.

Dijonai leaned back against the couch, pulled out her phone, and opened a ridiculous game with cartoon goats. Nalyssa grabbed the remote and put on the dumbest baking show she could find. Neither said anything else for a while.

They just stayed. Loud, chaotic, disruptive, and the only thing keeping Paige from drifting too far into the quiet again.

Eventually, she curled sideways and rested her head on a throw pillow Azzi made her buy, eyes closing again.

“Night, baby goat,” Lyss said softly.

“Don’t let the overhead light get you,” Dijonai added.

“Fuck off,”

And Paige, drifting, let herself be held by the noise.

#paige bueckers x azzi fudd #pazzi #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #pazzi fics #uconn wbb #uconnwbb #dallas wings

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izumiphoenix · 2 days ago

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I apologize if this is an old post and not relevant anymore, but I happened to stumble upon it and wanted to respectfully share my opinion.

I’m approaching this purely from the game’s point of view, since, after all, that’s how Astarion’s story is told. I haven’t really seen interviews or developer commentary yet, and while I think they’re a great addition, I believe it’s also valid to form an opinion based only on what the game itself shows.

In BG3, we don’t know for certain what kind of person Astarion was before. Even he doesn’t fully remember that himself.

From what I understand, there are two main interpretations: one - that he was a corrupt magistrate who abused power and paid the price; the other one - that he was someone who genuinely cared about justice and crossed the path of a powerful figure.

Personally, I think it could be both or something in between. Astarion is one of the most complex and well-written characters I’ve seen, and trying to fit him into a black-and-white scale feels too narrow for his story.

I imagine he was young, still figuring out who he was, watching the world around him and trying to find his place. He wasn't perfect, he made mistakes. Maybe he was careless, maybe selfish at times, but I don’t think he was cruel, not intentionally. He probably didn’t consider the consequences of his choices and decisions well. And he probably believed he had a whole life ahead. Not a saint, not evil - just human.

When we meet Astarion, he has a lot of learned cruelty within him and a desperate determination to survive by any means. But he also has this softness, warmth and hope inside, too. He is intelligent, perceptive, and understanding. And he genuinely looks for connection. If Astarion chooses not to ascend, that part of him starts to really shine. And I don’t believe that came from nowhere. I believe it survived, all that time, just like him.

That’s why I don’t believe Cazador’s abuse taught Astarion morality - quite the opposite, actually. It taught him fear, cynicism, and the idea that power is all that matters. He said it himself: that he prayed to all gods he could remember, begging them to save him. And no hero ever came to his rescue. In one of the early dialogues, he plainly stated that it’s foolish to believe in good and bad - there is only what is good or bad for him. And power gives you the right to do whatever you want. This is what he was made to believe under centuries of Cazador’s “teaching”.

And the PC isn’t some moral savior either. They don’t fix him. What they offer him a safe space. A space to be seen, to breathe, to choose who he wants to be. And Astarion chooses to be better. Not for anyone else, but for himself. He chooses kindness, redemption and love over power and fear.

The idea from the follow-up post, that Tav should someday dig up old court records to confront him and “humble” him into reflection... honestly, that isn't helpful. Bringing up Astarion’s possible misdeeds - things he can't even fully remember from a life long gone - feels more like punishment, coming from a Tav who sees themselves as his moral superior. He has already been dehumanized and tortured for centuries, and after all that, he still chooses to break the cycle, to seek connection, to love and be kind. Digging up a past he can’t change, after he’s already made that choice, just sends the message that he will never be good enough. That he will always need to be “put in his place.” That’s not healing, that’s control. And I believe Astarion deserves more than that. He deserves a partner who doesn’t try to keep him on the right path, but simply walks with him. Because he isn't something broken to be fixed - he deserves respect, trust and space to continue becoming who he chooses to be, without someone constantly holding his past over his head as a reminder of who they think he really is.

To be honest, I think it's good that the creators didn't tell us in the game what kind of person Astarion was before Cazador, because his story is not about who he was, but who he wants to be. But I don't think we should dismiss him either. We may not fully know the man buried in that grave, but he is still part of who Astarion is now. Just like Ascended Astarion is still him, too - twisted, afraid, desperately clinging to control. This is painful to see, but it’s another possible path, and it deserves to be acknowledged.

Astarion is layered, messy and beautiful in his contradictions. He shines through his scars. He isn’t good or bad, he’s human. And I believe we love him because of who he is, not in spite of it.

There is a level of deep, bitterly poetic and cruel irony in Astarion's death and his eventual fate as a vampire spawn. Laughable, even. Lamentable.

Where do I even begin. I once posted here my thoughts on who Astarion was before Cazador took him; and all my thoughts were based on what we can assume to be canon from scraps on information in - game and interviews with Neil. That Astarion Ancunin who was laid into the ground at Baldur's Gate cementary was a corrupt magistrate, a shining example of power abuse, indulgence, hedony, existence in privilege without any service to the world around.

We also know for a fact that Astarion is not a good person in a moral sense. Again, Neil Newbon himself talked about it. He has capability to grow, mature, open himself up, soak in the positive influence and feel for others, but he never will be the default upstanding type. That is simply not at his core.

This is why (I am aware we're talking a fictional character, headcanon is free to all in whichever way they think it suits and pleases them) I cannot for the world believe in all the fanfiction based on the notion of the tragic, tortured soul unjustly attacked and turned into a vampire, because to me - it misses the entire depth and essence of Astarion's personality and arc. He was not a "worthy" persona before Cazador; in fact, the beating he got from the Gur was well - deserved and the near - death experience... Probably so as well. Maybe if anything, this would open his eyes and force him to reflect at least a bit on his choices in the position he was occupying. (But given that he mentions begging Cazador to turn him to be able to take revenge, I highly doubt that.) So yeah... The man got what was coming to him. He deserved it.

But what he got in the end once Cazador allowed him to drink his blood and had him in his hold? Two hundred years of misery and abuse beyond description, being completely stripped of any identity and personhood? No one deserves that. Such fate should not be thrust upon anyone. Ever.

It is the cruellest, most wicked twist of fate that it took that kind of ordeal to change a corrupt little elf's view of the world and force him to even acknowledge the existence of evil deeds and abuse of power - something I am quite sure he never gave any thought to before. It took being transformed into an utterly helpless victim to make him truly see that there is good and bad and perpetuating the bad leads to pain and misery for the innocents (and you can never be sure if not for you as well), and only then, at his most pathetic, most vulnerable, after centuries of torment, it took meeting, trusting, admiring, being grateful to, befriending / loving and being influenced by a genuinely good and kind person (probably the exact opposite of who he was before) to shake and cause some shift in his inner moral compass, or rather the way he was choosing to use it. The full circle, a poignant, unwilling journey from the one abusing power, to the enslaved puppet of someone with considerably more power abusing it in the most inhuman ways possible, and this time to his own woe, to the one person able to break the abusive cycle given the right influence.

Isn't that simply poetic in the most sickly sense? A tragicomedy, if you will.

Forget about Astarion Ancunin. The grave was good for lovemaking and sharing an important moment, but whoever was laid there was not anyone worthy of your time (just like "Ascended Astarion" )The one who stands by your side now is. Your Astarion. The new Astarion, the same "lovable rogue" with a taste for theatrics, drama, debauchery, beauty, murder mayhem and loose morality, but - a better person all the same.

[follow up post here

https://www.tumblr.com/glitteryinknotes/733162725841289216/a-little-follow-up-to-my-previous-post?source=share]

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion meta #spawn astarion

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floatyflowers · 2 days ago

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Can we have a part two of husband Anubis please🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾

<<< Part One

You have not spoken with him for a long time, maybe a month, not because you were avoiding him, but because he has been busy.

What surprised you is that Anubis has given you permission to go out, breaking all the shackles he put on your freedom.

Yet, it made you wonder, has your possessive husband finally got bored of you? Did he abandon you?

It made you feel...sad.

However, another person enters your life, he has soft gentle brown eyes, brown curly hair, and tan skin.

You met him at the market, he introduced himself as Aken

You hadn't expected the quiet warmth of Aken's presence to soothe your restless soul.

It began with small conversations. He helped carry your basket when it was heavy with fruit and grain.

He never pressed for personal details, but he listened, truly listened, as if your every word held divine importance.

He wasn't like Anubis, whose presence was frightening, whose love smothered as much as it protected.

Aken, in contrast, felt like sunlight after a long storm.

Still, a large part of you remained tethered to your husband, Anubis, though sometimes you couldn’t tell the difference.

His absence dug a hole in your chest. You had always known his love was obsessive, but it had also been all-consuming. You couldn’t deny that part of you missed him.

And yet… had he not he abandoned you?

You found yourself in the market square again, and like always, Aken was there.

"Your eyes look heavy today," he said softly, offering you a ripe fig. "Did you not sleep well?"

You hesitated, but ended up speaking about your worries.

"It's… hard. I keep thinking about someone. Someone who was everything to me, even if he didn’t always treat me well."

Aken tilted his head, curiosity lighting in those soft brown eyes. "Do you still love him?"

"I don’t know," you whispered.

"Maybe I do. Maybe I just miss being wanted."

He stared at you for a long moment, and then, softly, gently, he placed his hand over yours.

"Then why have you not given yourself to someone else? Why not me?"

Your heart stuttered. You pulled your hand back gently, voice shaking.

"Because even if he hurt me, even if he's gone, I am his. I made a vow."

Silence stretched between you.

And then everything shifted.

The scent of sand and fragrant oils filled the air.

A gust of wind swept through the marketplace, but no one reacted. Everything was frozen, the merchants mid-motion, the laughter of children paused.

Aken’s form shimmered.

The brown curls darkened, straightened. His tan skin took on a cool obsidian hue, and his eyes, once warm and soft, became pools of molten gold.

A jackal-headed crown formed above his brow, and before you stood Anubis, in all his terrible, divine glory.

"I never left," he said, his voice deep and resonant, laced with disappointment and awe.

"I watched. I tested. I wanted to see, if your heart would remain loyal in my absence."

You stared at him, trembling, realization crashing down like the Nile in flood.

"You lied to me…" you breathed.

"I had to," he said, stepping closer, golden adornments glittering.

"You are my heart. But even I feared you might have changed. That my absence would let another take root in your soul."

He cupped your face, reverently, his thumbs brushing tears you hadn't realized you shed.

"But you were true. You denied temptation. You remembered me."

"I thought you didn’t want me anymore." you confessed.

He growled low in his throat, an angry, desperate sound.

"Never. You are mine. You will always be mine. And now I will never leave you again."

The world around you pulsed back into motion, but you didn’t notice. All you could feel was the overwhelming presence of Anubis.

And deep in your chest, your heart whispered one truth.

You had passed his test.

However, your test made you realise how much you adore his attention and love even if it's unhealthy.

And you don't care anymore if it costs you, your freedom.

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pintrestgrl · 2 days ago

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sweetheart!reader with mean!rafe, hear me outt

they start off as strictly fuck buddies (according to rafe) and she’s just so empathetic and kind, she can’t help but want to love him since clearly no one else does. He dismisses any affectionate attempts that sweetheart!reader does towards him, assuming that was just her being her, not knowing she truly does love and care for him.

She decides to bring him cupcakes or something and little does she know.. he has another girl over.. ( reader doesn’t end up finding out) that moment changed something in rafe

Idk if this made sense lol

sweetheart!reader n mean!rafe

you shouldn’t be nervous. not for someone who never calls you before midnight. not for someone who’s made it perfectly clear what this is—and what it isn’t. but your hands still shake on the steering wheel. your heart still stutters when you pull into his driveway.

you have a box of cupcakes in your lap. pink frosting with hand-piped little hearts. you made them yourself like an idiot, thinking of the time he said he liked strawberry anything while he fed you like some man out of a book. you told yourself it wasn’t romantic. it was just a joke. just something fun. you’re always telling yourself things that aren’t true

“made you something sweet. be there in 5 <3.” you hit send before you can regret it. it doesn’t feel like a random hookup anymore, not to you. hasn’t in a long time. maybe it never did. you keep hoping, maybe, this time— he’ll look at you like he means it. like you matter, like he sees you.

what you didnt know was that inside, rafe was fucking someone else. some random touron. she didn’t mean anything, he didn’t even remember her name. he was just high. trying to feel something, anything. he didn’t expect his phone to light up with your name.

his whole body froze. he pulled out of the forgotten girl, got off the bed, and looked through the window. there you were, walking up the steps, smiling pretty enough to kill him while holding cupcakes in both hands like a gift.

he pulled some jeans on quickly, rushing down the stairs after. by the time he gets down there, you were already ringing the doorbell. he cracked the door just enough to step outside, slamming it behind him before you could peek in.

you can tell somethings off the moment you see him. he’s shirtless. not unusual. but his eyes are darker than usual. jaw tight. you smile anyway. you always smile around him, even when your throat burns. “hi,” you say, soft. “what’s this?” he asks, staring at the box in your hands like it’s cursed. “i made cupcakes. strawberry.”

he doesn’t take the box from you. not right away. just stares at it, then at you. you don’t know what he’s thinking. you never really do. “you didn’t have to do that,” he mutters, like it’s a bad thing. “i know, i just wanted to.” you mumble, waiting for a reply. you hope, you pray he lets you in—not just into the house, but into him.

but instead, “you should go.” he says. it stings. worse than it should. worse than you’ll ever admit. you bite the inside of your cheek to keep your face from falling. you hand him the box anyway, because it’s all you can do. “okay.” and you smile. again. because if you don’t, you’ll cry.

he takes the cupcakes with a strange kind of hesitation. like they’re heavier than they look. like they cost him something. you don’t know why. you don’t ask. you just walk back to your car and leave. because that’s what you do. you show up. you care too much. and you leave when he tells you to.

he shuts the door after you leave, turning and leaning back against it. he just stands there. for a long time after that. the house is too quiet now. he holds the cupcake box like it’s a wound. the girl upstairs peers down at him from the stairs, mumbling something he didnt even try to hear. he didnt care. he’s thinking of you.

your perfume lingers. sugar and something warm. like him, if he were ever soft enough to be worth anything. he opens the box. six cupcakes, perfect pink. you piped little hearts on them, hand-done. he knows it. you don’t half-ass anything when it comes to him. you never did.

he should’ve told you to come in, should’ve kissed you, let you sit on the couch with your legs curled up and talk about dumb shit like you always do. he should’ve eaten every single one of these stupid fucking cupcakes while you watched.

but he didn’t. and he probably never would. because that’s what he felt he deserved. you were too sweet for him. too pretty for his ugly world.

a/n: i like this what ab yall

tags : @enchantedstarfish @heavenlyangelbaby @kittyreposts @littlelamy @cameronsbabydoll @iwishiknew-69 @battybaby111 @thepinkprincesss

#pintrestgrl #talk to jae #anon ask #obx #obx au #rafe cameron #rafe #sweetheart!reader #rafe fanfiction #rafe x you #rafe angst #rafe cameron angst

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pankowcrumbs · 3 days ago

Text

More Than Just a Date X Max Verstappen (Requested)

Request: Max Verstappen x Reader He forgets their anniversary because he always thinks about racing, with a happy ending.

MasterList

F1 Masterlist

I never expected a five-star dinner or a hot air balloon ride though, in truth, I wouldn’t say no to either. I just wanted him to remember. A simple “happy anniversary” would have been enough.

But as I watched Max pacing the flat, phone glued to his ear, mid-conversation with his race engineer about corner exits in sector two, the silence on his end said everything I needed to know.

He’d forgotten.

Again.

To Max’s credit, Formula 1 was his whole world. It was in his blood, his bones, probably in his bloody DNA. I’d always admired his focus, the unrelenting drive that made him a four-time world champion. But sometimes, that very focus meant everything else blurred into the background… including me.

I sat quietly on the couch, dressed up in the outfit I’d planned a week in advance. Hair curled, perfume dabbed just so. There was a cake in the fridge, dinner reservations I’d made under his name, and a tiny velvet box in my coat pocket containing the bracelet I’d saved up for all year engraved with the coordinates of where we first met.

He didn’t see any of it.

“Yeah, no, I agree,” Max nodded into the phone, shooting me a distracted glance and mouthing, ‘Five minutes’ with a guilty smile.

I smiled back. Tightly.

He vanished into the bedroom, still deep in conversation, and I sat there, the weight in my chest heavier than the bracelet I no longer wanted to give.

I grabbed my coat and quietly slipped out the door.

The park around the corner was quiet this time of night. I sat on the bench we always used to stop at when we first moved in together. Back then, it was all takeaway dinners, racing sims, and trying to make our schedules fit like puzzle pieces. Life was simpler then. Or maybe I was just more hopeful.

I felt my phone buzz.

Max Where are you?

I didn’t reply.

It buzzed again.

Max Y/N, I’m so sorry. Please come back.

I sighed, slipping the phone into my pocket. The night air was crisp, laced with the scent of jasmine from the hedge nearby. I leaned back and let my eyes drift up toward the stars, trying to remind myself that I wasn’t being unreasonable. I just wanted to be seen. Not as Max Verstappen’s girlfriend. Just as Y/N someone who loved him enough to celebrate their love even when it felt one-sided.

I heard hurried footsteps before I saw him.

“Y/N!” Max’s voice cracked as he rounded the path, slightly breathless. His hoodie was thrown over his racing shirt and his trainers were half-tied. “There you are.”

I looked at him, unsure what to say. So, I stayed quiet.

He sat beside me, hands resting on his knees. “I forgot.”

“No kidding.”

“I’m not going to make excuses,” he said, eyes forward. “I forgot, and I saw the look on your face as soon as I walked into the kitchen and saw the cake. I’m... I’m an idiot.”

I bit my lip. “You are.”

He let out a low laugh, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I can memorise every lap time from the last three seasons but can’t remember the date I got the best thing that ever happened to me. What does that say about me?”

“That you’re a man obsessed with corners and apexes,” I muttered.

He turned then, properly facing me. “I don’t want you to think I don’t care. Because I do. I care so much that it terrifies me sometimes. This racing world is mad, and you’re the calm I don’t deserve.”

I met his gaze. “Then show me. Not with podiums or apologies. With attention. With intention.”

He nodded slowly. “I will. Starting now.”

From his hoodie pocket, he pulled out a folded napkin with something crumpled inside. He handed it to me sheepishly.

“I didn’t have time to wrap it,” he admitted.

I opened it to find a tiny charm a silver race helmet with a red heart etched on the back.

“I bought it last week,” he said. “Meant to give it to you today, but… well. You know the rest.”

I turned it over in my hand, the warmth of his palm still lingering on the metal.

“I got you a bracelet” I said softly.

He blinked. “You got me a bracelet?”

I nodded, pulling the box from my coat pocket and offering it to him.

He opened it, eyes widening. “The beach in Monaco?”

“Where we met,” I said. “Where this all started.”

He took the bracelet and fastened it around his wrist without hesitation.

“Perfect fit,” he murmured. “Like us.”

We sat there for a moment in silence, his fingers brushing over mine.

“Next year,” he said, “I’m not just remembering our anniversary. I’m booking the day off. Full stop. No calls, no meetings. Just you and me.”

I raised a brow. “Even if it’s race week?”

“Especially if it’s race week,” he said. “Because you’re the reason I can do any of this.”

I leaned my head on his shoulder, the anger melting into something softer. He smelled like rain and aftershave, and home.

“Come on,” he whispered. “Let’s go eat that cake.”

We walked back hand-in-hand, and when we reached the flat, he lit the candles I’d set out hours earlier. We shared the cake on the kitchen floor, laughing between bites. He even put on our song the cheesy one we both claimed to hate but secretly loved.

And as he twirled me around the kitchen in socked feet and soft apologies, I realised that while Max Verstappen might forget a date on a calendar, he never forgot what truly mattered.

Me.

Us.

#fanfiction #reader #x reader #one shot #requested #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x female oc #verstappen #max

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golden-cherry · 3 days ago

Text

deal - cl16 (58/59)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Nothing in your life has ever felt like this - thank God you have friends to help you through it.

Warnings: heavy on the angst, heartbreak, Kika and Lando are actually the best

Word Count: 4.1k

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A/N: the end of deal from our girlie pov. hope you like it. feedback is appreciated!

You’re still standing there. Not moving. Not breathing. Not quite believing.

The sound of the crowd fades into a dull throb, like your ears have been packed with cotton, or maybe even grief. Your fingers tighten around the camera, the strap biting into your palm, grounding you in the only thing that’s ever made sense – your work.

Because he doesn’t make sense. Not now. Not like this.

You don’t understand what you’re looking at – Charles beside her, too close, too familiar, too different. Not the man who whispered I love you against your skin a few hours ago. Not the man who held you like he was afraid to let go. Not the man who kissed you like it might be the last time.

No, this man in front of you knows exactly where the cameras are.

And he’s standing exactly where they want him.

You swallow, the lump in your throat thick and rising. You want to blink and have it make sense. You want to rewind time. You want to ask, but there’s no space fort hat here. Not behind the rope – and definitely not behind the mask he’s wearing like it was always been part of the suit.

A photographer next to you leans in and murmurs something to you that sounds like a „they make a good pair, huh“, but your blood rushes into your ears, almost making you deaf to all the noise around you.

Your breath is locked somewhere between your lungs and your throat. You don’t look at the photographer next to you. You can’t, because if you do, the cracks might show. And once they do, you’re not sure you’ll be able to hold everything together. Not tonight. Not in front of all these eyes.

So you keep facing forward, still as a statue. A beautiful, tragic one.

He’s still standing there, laughing at something Elena just said, hand resting at the small of her back like it belongs there. Like it’s supposed to be there. And like it didn’t caress your body just hours ago.

You blink hard, once, just to keep yourself here, to stay upright. To stay somewhat sane.

You remind yourself that you’re not the show, not the question they’ll ask later. You’re the one who’s supposed to watch and take photos, not feel. But your heart doesn’t care about roles. And as the flashes go off again – brighter, louder, endless – one thought slips through, impossible to silence.

He knew what would happen tonight when he made love to you in the afternoon. He knew he’d be standing there on the red carpet, on the other side oft he rope, with someone that’s not you.

And maybe that’s the cruelest part. He knew how much it would kill you inside.

And he did it anyway.

He held you like you were the only thing keeping him breathing. Kissed you like nothing else mattered. Looked at you like he couldn’t bear to look away and miss a second of your beauty.

But he left. Not in the room. Not with words. In this moment. On this carpet. With this choice.

You stand there, surrounded by glittering gowns and thousand-dollar lenses, and realize you’ve never felt more invisible. No one sees the girl behind the rope clutching her camera like it’s the only thing holding her together. No one notices the way your chest trembles with every breath you take.

They’re too busy watching them. Too busy capturing them.

You want to scream, to rip off this stupid red dress, this night, this version of you that thought love meant being chosen even when no one is watching. Your chest burns, but not from anger – but from the ache of knowing. From the betrayal that doesn’t shout – it settles. Quiet. Heavy. Like wet silk clinging to your ribs.

Your gaze finds his like a wound finds the blade. Unavoidable. Precise. Final.

It’s not even a long look – barely a second, maybe less. But it’s enough. Enough to undo you. Because in his eyes, there’s no shock, no apology. No guilt.

Just something quieter. Something worse. Acceptance.

Like he always knew it would come to this. Like he’s already made peace with the version of the story where you’re left behind the velvet rope, and he’s smiling with someone else next to him.

And that’s what undoes you. Not the kiss between them that didn’t happen. Not the questions shouted by strangers. Not even her hand on his chest like it belongs there. It’s the way he doesn’t fight it.

The way he doesn’t fight for you.

No flicker of hesitation. No step forward. No whispered excuse to slip away and find you. Just stillness – calculated, composed. The Charles they all want to see. The one who knows exactly how to perform without flincing.

And maybe that’s what this was all along. A performance.

Not the love – no, that was real. You know it was.

But this ending. This deafening silence. This cold unraveling dressed up in velvet and flashbulbs. It was written long before you stepped into this beautiful dress.

Your heart clenches, tasting copper in your throat from holding everthing in.

Because he didn’t just let you go. He let the world believe you were never his to begin with. As he turns back toward tot he cameras, hand still resting on her waist, you realize something no flash will ever catch – he didn’t lose you tonight. He gave you up.

You lift the camera, looking through the lense one more time, because it’s the only way you know how to survive this. Through glass. Through distance. Through detachment.

And just before you press the shutter, you whisper the quiet truth that he’ll never hear over the roar of everything he chose instead.

I would’ve stood beside you. Not when the lights were on.

But in the dark, too.

You don’t remember how you left.

One moment you’re standing behind the rope, blinking through flashbulbs and heartbreak. The next, you were walking – no, moving – through the crown, cutting across the marble oft he entrance hall like your body had already decided before your mind caught up.

The car came quickly. You don’t remember calling it.

Your fingers were shaking when you opened the door to the hotel room. Maybe someone held it for you. Maybe the driver said something gentle. But none of it mattered. Not after that look. Not after the hand on her waist. Not after the quiet letting go.

You toss your camera bag on the counter, your chest burning like you’ve just run a marathon through glass. Your phone buzzes where it’s been clenched in your hand the entire time – lifeline, anchor, curse all at once.

Lando: Have fun tonight. You deserve it. sent an hour ago

You swallow. He must’ve seen the stories, the buildup, the PR sparkle. Everyone did. Everyone will.

And then – buzz. Again. Another message. This one is newer. Five minutes ago.

Lando: Check your email. Flight home in 2 hours. Don’t stay there.

You freeze.

Not because it’s unexpected – but because that’s what Lando does.

He pays attention – quietly, instinctively, like a person who’s memorized the way you disappear when you’re hurting. He never asks for explanations first. He just moves. Acts. Makes space before you even admit you need it.

You stare at the message, thumb hovering, but you don’t respond. You can’t. Not yet.

Instead, you open your email. And there it is – confirmation number, departure time, seat by the window. One nag checked. One carry-on. His signature, even in silence, is everywhere. Clean. Fast. Done.

A lump rises in your throat. Not like before – not the thick, suffocating ache that came from watching Charles turn away from you.

This is different. This is the ache of being seen.

You get up, pull your suitcase from the corner. The red dress is still on you – you don’t have the nerve to take it off. You don’t even try. The thought of peeling it off – of undoing the night thread by thread – feels impossible. Like if you take it off now, you’ll unravel with it. So you leave it on.

You drag your suitcase to the door, half-packed from before. You throw in what’s left on the counter - your charger, your brush, your camera, heavy with untouched shots you can’t bear to look at yet.

The zipper sticks, and you yank it harder than you mean to. It jerks closed, teeth catching fabric, like it knows how much of you you’re trying to shut away.

You pull your hair back with a trembling hand. Check your phone. Just enough time.

You take one last look around the room, at everything you were supposed tob e part of tonight – the bathrobe you wanted to wear after the gala, the champagne bottle on the sideboard, the silence that swallows you whole.

And then you’re out the door. Through the lobby, where someone in a suit nods at you, but doesn’t recognize the storm nehind your eyes. Past the marble that gleams like a lie. Into the waiting car, where your fingers curl around your phone again.

Still no reply typed out. Still no words.

But your sceen is lit. Lando’s name still there. Holding space.

The drvier asks your destination and you give it quietly, voice tight in your throat like the words are afraid to come out.

The city glides past the window in blurs of golden light and wet pavement, all cobblestones and hard winter shadows. It feels like a place you need to escape from before it swallows what’s left of you.

You lean your head against the glass. It’s cold. Grounding. Real.

And Lando’s name glows again.

Still no message. Just – presence. Just him, in the only way he can be right now.

You finally type something. Your thumbs hesitate, rewrite. Then you settle on just:

You: On my way

You hit sent. No punctuation. No explanation. But maybe that’s all it needs to be. You don’t know what’s waiting for you on the other side of this flight – answers, comfort, silence- But you know one thing – it’s not this.

Not the ache in your chest that started the moment Charles let go of your hand. Not the way you still feel his eyes on you like a ghost refusing to leave.

You shift slightly, the red fabric riding up your thigh as the car turns sharply, nearing the airport lights. You’re still wearing the dress. Still wearing the mistake. But you’re not wearing the lie anymore.

When you step out, the wind bites through the silk and your bones all at once. But you pull your coat tighter and walk forward anyway.

You don’t look back. Not once.

The door clicks open with the same sound it always makes—familiar, soft, harmless. But nothing about this moment feels familiar anymore.

You step inside the apartment on quiet feet, the red dress clinging to your skin like it knows it doesn’t belong here. Your suitcase rolls behind you, wheels catching on the edge of the rug you once picked out together.

The lights are low. The kind of low that says someone’s waiting.

And she is.

Kika’s sitting at the kitchen island, feet tucked beneath her, a mug in her hands. She looks up the second the door shuts behind you. No smile. No words. Just those soft brown eyes, already full of something thick and knowing.

She stands. Crosses the room in two strides.

You try to stay composed. You try to make it to the bedroom. You try to be okay for just one more second.

Your breath catches. Snags. Like there’s no air in the room, like the walls are shrinking.

You take one shaky step toward the hallway - toward the bedroom, toward anything that isn’t this - but your knees buckle before you get there. A soft gasp escapes your lips, and your hand hits the wall for balance, but it’s no use. The weight in your chest is too much.

The red dress suddenly feels like it’s suffocating you.

Your fingers scramble for the zipper at your side, but it won’t move. The fabric is too tight, too unforgiving, clinging to your ribs like punishment. Like it knows what you wore it for. Like it’s mocking you.

“Get it off“, you choke, breath hitching as panic builds. “I can’t - Kika, I can’t breathe -”

She’s there in an instant, her hands gentle but swift, helping you out of the dress as you claw at it, nails dragging against silk, desperation rising like a tide. The zipper gives. The sleeves slip from your shoulders. You step out of it with a sob so guttural it doesn’t sound like it came from you.

Then you're in your underwear, knees hitting the floor, dress puddled in a heap of red around your ankles like something dead.

And you cry.

Big, broken cries that shake your whole body. You curl in on yourself, arms around your stomach, as if holding yourself tightly enough might keep you from falling apart even more.

Kika drops to the floor beside you with a blanket, wrapping it and her arms around your trembling frame. Not saying anything. Not needing to.

You bury your face in her shoulder and scream into her skin.

You scream for the silence. You scream for the velvet rope. You scream for the moment he let go.

And when your voice breaks, your body stills. Your breaths come in jagged, shallow gulps. But your arms finally release the tight grip around your waist, and instead, you reach for her.

You let yourself be held. She holds you through it. Through the noise, through the collapse. Through the kind of heartbreak that doesn’t fit into words. Her arms around you are steady, unflinching. She doesn’t hush you. Doesn’t tell you to breathe. She just lets you fall apart.

The blanket is soft, but it’s her presence that keeps you from vanishing. You cling to her, your fingers curled into the fabric at her back, your sobs stuttering out until you’re left gasping. Hiccuping. Quietly unraveling.

“I - I thought I was enough", you whisper, voice shredded. “I really did.”

She presses her chin to the top of your head, like anchoring you there.

“You are", Kika says, the first words she’s spoken since you fell through the door. “You still are.”

The silence after is thick. But it’s not empty - it’s full of her holding space for everything you can’t say yet.

You feel the aftershocks still moving through you, your chest aching, your cheeks wet, the red dress discarded like a ghost at your feet. You close your eyes, pressed against her, and for one suspended moment, you let yourself exist inside the wreckage.

No pretending. No strength. No answers.

Just this brutal, necessary truth: It hurts. God, it hurts.

The door creaks open as your hip bumps against it, a cardboard box balanced in your arms, the word “fragile” scribbled in rushed black marker across the top. The hallway smells like sawdust and fresh beginnings. You step inside, the soles of your shoes brushing over the hardwood, and pause for a second.

New.

The word settles into your chest.

Then shuffling, coming from the kitchen. A thud. A muffled curse.

“Careful with those!”, you call out, voice echoing slightly in the empty space.

A head pops around the corner - brown curls a little messy, cheeks flushed from effort. “I was careful", Lando says, lifting a hand in mock surrender. “The cabinet, however, was not.”

You let out a breath that almost becomes a laugh. Almost. But it’s tight in your throat.

He walks toward you, taking the box from your arms before you can protest. “I told you I’d get the heavy ones.”

“You also told me you wouldn’t unpack the kitchen without me.”

Lando grins, that familiar one that pulls a little crooked. “Technically, I’m not unpacking. I’m just making room for pizza later.”

You glance around the apartment. Boxes still stacked in corners. Curtains still waiting in a heap on the couch. No photos on the walls. No memories yet. Just clean slate.

He watches you take it in, the shift in your expression - softening, hardening, breaking a little.

“You okay?” he asks, quieter now.

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you walk slowly toward the middle of the room, where sunlight is pouring through the window in long golden lines. You turn in a slow circle, then stop and close your eyes for a breath.

“I don’t know,” you admit.

Lando doesn’t fill the silence that follows. He never does. He just lets it stretch, like a place to land.

When you open your eyes, he’s still standing there, box at his feet, hands in his pockets. Not pushing. Not pretending. Just present.

And somehow, that’s what makes your chest crack open again - not in the way it did on the red carpet, or in the hotel, or on the plane. But in a way that feels like possibility. Like maybe not all endings are meant to stay endings.

Lando lifts one eyebrow. “Pizza now, or after the breakdown?”

You huff out a laugh through your nose. “Can’t I have both?”

He smirks. “You’ve got great taste in pain and carbs.”

You nod, stepping past him to grab another box. “You’ve got terrible taste in mugs.”

Lando gasps in mock offense, clutching at his chest like you’d just insulted his firstborn. “My mugs are iconic.”

You shoot him a look over your shoulder. “One of them says ‘Don’t talk to me until I’ve crashed my third sim race of the day.’”

“That one’s a collector’s item", he fires back, following you into the kitchen. “Also, pizza’s already ordered. Should be here in -” he checks his phone, “- eleven minutes. You’re welcome.”

You slide the box onto the counter with a quiet smile. “Thanks, Lando.”

“For the pizza or the mug debate?”

“For everything.”

He doesn’t say anything right away, but the grin fades into something softer. He just nods and starts peeling tape off another box.

Eleven minutes later, like magic or divine mercy, there’s a knock on the door and the smell of hot, melted cheese fills the apartment. You sit cross-legged on the floor, paper plates balanced on a moving box, steam curling from slices as you both dig in like you haven’t eaten in days.

“You’re gonna love this new job,” Lando says around a mouthful of crust. He wipes his mouth and grins, waving his pizza slice like a banner. “It’s not the usual trackside chaos. It’s at McLaren HQ - behind the scenes, away from all the cameras and the noise. They want you there to bring back the spark, to capture the soul of the company. Not just the drivers, but the people who make it all happen.”

You swallow a bite, surprised. “So no flashing lights, no red carpets?”

“Exactly. Just you, your camera, and a whole lot of stories that nobody else notices. The engineers, the designers, the late-night brainstorming sessions. That’s where the heart is, and they want someone who can see that.”

You pause, imagining a quieter space - less glitz, less pressure, more real. “Sounds peaceful.”

Lando nods. “Peaceful, but important. They’ve been losing that energy, that connection. You’re the one to bring it back. Make McLaren feel alive again through your lens.”

You let that settle, the weight of possibility sinking in. Away from the glare, away from the expectations. A chance to start fresh.

Lando grins wider. “And trust me, no one’s going to ask you to smile for the cameras or pretend to be someone else.” He sets his plate down and leans back on his hands. “Look, maybe it won’t be easy. Not right away. But it’s yours. Not his. Not anyone else’s. Just yours. You get to build this one without being someone’s plus-one.”

His words settle deep, anchoring in a place that’s been drifting since Modena. You nod slowly, suddenly aware of how quiet the city feels outside your new windows. No red carpets. No velvet ropes. No flashbulbs. Just the sound of new walls breathing in their first night with you.

You reach for another slice and glance at him. “You’re staying tonight, right?”

He smirks, leaning back against the wall. “I’m not letting you sleep on the floor alone. I’ve already claimed the least lumpy pillow.”

You smile weakly, but your mind drifts. Woking - this new apartment, this new life - it feels so far from Monaco. From the place that had been home for the last few months. The last month you’d known Charles. The city where everything felt alive and tangled with promises that now feel broken.

It hits you then, how distant that world already feels. Like a fading photograph tucked away in a drawer you don’t open anymore.

Lando notices the silence stretching between bites and doesn’t press. Instead, he just says quietly, “It’s not the same, but maybe this can be home too.”

You look up, eyes still clouded but grateful. “Thanks, Lando. For calling Kika that night when I got back from the gala. I don’t know what I would’ve done without her.”

He shrugs, but there’s warmth in his voice. “You’re not alone in this. We’ve all got each other’s backs. Especially when the world feels like it’s falling apart.”

You manage a small, shaky smile. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He tosses the last crust into his mouth, grinning. “Wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

For a moment, the weight in your chest eases just a little, caught between the comfort of old friends and the uncertainty of new beginnings.

Your phone buzzes again, sharp against the quiet hum of the apartment. You fumble for it, a flicker of hope stirring - maybe it’s Charles. Maybe after everything, he’s finally reaching out.

But it isn’t.

The screen glows with a message from someone else, a name you barely recognize. You stare at it, the weight in your chest settling deeper.

Since the gala, since you packed up and left without a word, he hasn’t reached out. No texts. No calls. Nothing.

You set the phone down slowly, the silence swallowing you whole.

Lando glances up from his seat, catching the way your hand tightens around the phone before you set it down.

“You okay?” he asks gently, his voice low enough not to shatter the fragile quiet.

You swallow hard, forcing a nod. “Yeah. Just… nothing from him. Like he never even cared to explain.”

Lando’s eyes soften. “Sometimes silence says more than words ever could.”

You don't answer Lando right away.

The truth is lodged somewhere between your ribs, still too sharp to pull free. Instead, you stare at your camera, lying untouched in its case near the wall. It's been there since you arrived in Woking - quiet, dormant, like a version of you that doesn’t know how to exist anymore.

The last time you held it was the night everything changed. The night he didn’t reach for you. The photos are still on the memory card. You haven’t had the nerve to look at them. Maybe you never will.

You lean back against the wall beside Lando, pizza box between you both, the silence not uncomfortable - just heavy. Weighted with things unsaid.

“It’s weird", you say after a long while, your voice thin. “How fast something can stop feeling like yours.”

Lando doesn’t say anything. He just shifts closer, his shoulder brushing yours.

You glance at your phone again. Still nothing. Still not him.

No apology. No explanation. No goodbye.

Maybe that hurts more than anything he could’ve said.

Still, you're here. In a different city. In a new apartment. With boxes waiting to be unpacked and walls that don’t yet feel like home.

But maybe they will.

Maybe this is how it starts - not with answers or closure, but with space. With the kindness of a friend who doesn’t ask you to be okay before you are. With a life that isn’t fully shaped yet, but stretches out ahead of you anyway.

And one day, maybe even with the sound of the shutter again. When your hands stop shaking.

You look at Lando. He meets your eyes for just a second and gives you a small, steady nod.

Maybe everything will be alright.

Not all at once. Not in the way you once dreamed. But in a quieter, steadier way.

You start your new life. Starting a new chapter.

Of a new book.

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