#i was taking a break and i thought about it

[trashytracktales]

teammate!lando x reader where they had a bet and she loses…so he makes her crawl to her, hump the pillow, rub her bare clit against his clothed crotch ALL WHILE HE RECORDS HER (with consent ofc)

Lights, Camera, Action! | LN⁴

🔹️ summary ──── It was supposed to be a joke, then it became everything.

🔹️ pairing ──── Lando Norris x fem teammate!reader

🔹️ rating ──── explicit

🔹️ warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, smut, nerdy!Lando, soft!dom Lando, recording (consensual), cushion humping, manhandling, orgasm from external stimulation, swearing, unprotected sex, mutual masturbation, overstimulation, playful teasing, camera kink??

🔹️ word count ──── 6.3k

🔹️ date ──── May 6, 2025

🔹️ a/n ──── How tf do I set my intention to go for PURE SMUT NO PLOT, yet still manage to write over 6k 😀 I don’t even know what’s this, nothing makes sense and we are living on a floating rock.

Hear me out, I usually only link the song, but then I remembered about this music video and I almost had an aneurysm because of how well it fits. I recommend watching it after reading though. Anyway, ENJOY!!

THE LAST RACE before the break fucked them both. Pretty hard. What was supposed to end with another 1-2 finish for the team turned into a disaster of strategy, pace, and pure bad luck.

Since getting back to Monaco, the fallout hasn’t left them alone. It’s pretty hard when everyone is talking about it; it can get lonely, too. Luckily for them, they’ve been texting back and forth for days, laced with sarcasm, blame, and just enough flirtation to keep the tension at its peak. However, neither of them said what they really wanted to say. But it was always there, between the lines as usual, and in the way her name popped up on his screen, making his stomach flip.

Every single time.

The bar is loud enough to blur that tension and even Lando, with his no-alcohol rule, is loose and laughing. They dance and talk about anything but racing, and for a while it feels like neither of them are carrying the weight of disappointment.

Friends come and go through their circle, a few fans spot them and ask for pictures — which they take, grinning too wide and standing too close for their own good. Somewhere between the fourth round of mocktails, a familiar song starts pulsing through the speakers, and that’s when she brings up the bet, half-laughing, stepping in front of him like she did back in the garage when she dared him.

“If I finish behind you, I owe you a private dance,” she said, confidence dripping from every word. She’d qualified ahead of Lando, and was so confident she can finish ahead of him, too. But since every race is unpredictable and full of unknowns, she ended up taking the checkered flag after him.

It was a joke, anyway. But she can’t say with all her heart that she hasn’t thought about it at least a few couple of times. Besides, it’s Lando who’s been constantly reminding her throughout the past few days and, even if it was in jest, the curiosity made her spend hours staring at the ceiling of her room, imagining different scenarios.

Now, it’s late when the door to his apartment clicks shut behind them with a clean, satisfying noise. Lando tosses his keys into the ceramic bowl on the console with more force than necessary, and while the keys clatter, one nearly skids off the edge, forcing him to reach for it instinctively. She doesn’t say anything, although she can’t help but finding amusing that the inanimate objects always decide to act up only when her teammate’s patience seems so fragile.

The sudden movement makes Lando whine in exasperation as she watches him kick off his shoes and drag a hand through his curls.

The place is quiet, as if reflecting their inner agitation, silently burning within. He’s not bothering turning on more than a lamp, but it’s enough to bathe the whole living room in a pale silver glow, making everything seem even more intimate than it should be.

As they step further into the apartment, the same silence hits them both, because it’s not just the sudden absence of noise, but the weight of it. They’ve never been this quiet around each other before. Usually, they’re the chaos in the garage, either laughing too loud or teasing mid-debriefs, always bringing the kind of energy that makes their engineers roll their eyes but secretly love it. Now though, it’s the first time neither of them knows what to say. Or how to act.

“Cute place,” she says, partly to break the silence, but mostly because it really is. Spacious, stylish, not super tidy, but very Lando in that sense.

“You know you don’t have to make small talk, right?” he laughs. “It was a stupid bet to begin with, since I was always going to finish ahead of you anyway.”

Her jaw drops slightly at the cockiness in his tone. This is the Lando she knows and, in other circumstances, she would find his confidence hot, but right now it only makes her want to knock that look off his face. Or sit on it just to shut him up. Either works.

“Always eager to finish first? Got it,” the playful jab lands right where she intended without too much effort; it’s a split-second flicker in his expression, the twitch of his jaw, and the way his arms tense.

That’s the spot, she thinks. That’s where it bruises his ego, not because it’s crude, but because it’s enough to sting. Which only makes her want to push harder.

Lando’s grin flattens a bit. “Well, someone’s gotta lead the way,” he replies casually, even though he caught her double meaning phrase.

“Right. Leading the way because you can’t pace yourself,” she fires back.

He chuckles. “Sounds like an excuse from someone who couldn’t keep up.”

They’re toe-to-toe now, all bite and smirk and so much tension. She’s half a second from throwing a cushion at him just to knock that pretty smile off when she glances past his shoulder and, without another word, she steps forward, fingers brushing lightly against Lando’s arm as she urges him to move out of her way, wandering farther into his apartment like she owns the place.

“Interesting,” she mumbles. “I saw you with the camera before,” the girl continues as Lando turns to follow her silhouette. “How about you film me while I dance? Give you some new material for land0.mov?”

Lando’s expression twitches barely, but she’s still able to notice it. That small flash of disbelief, quickly masked by a half-laugh, like he’s not sure if she’s joking or just testing him.

“No way, mate,” says Lando, but it’s already too late.

She nods slowly, letting the weight of her intention settle in the air they share. His boyish smirk fades into curiosity in an instant. It’s like watching him put a helmet on: composed, dialed in, serious in a way most people rarely get to see.

To give him more space to process, she veers toward the low shelf by his TV, crouching slightly. “Let’s see. Which one’s your favorite?” she asks nonchalantly, running her fingers along the row of cameras lined up like little trophies; old film bodies, modern DSLRs, and a few point-and-shoots with scratched lenses.

Lando stares at her like she suddenly grew two more heads in the meantime. “You play too much, you know that?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Which one?” she repeats.

He blinks, opening his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out at first. After he rubs the bridge of his nose, Lando exhales slowly. “The, uh… the Leica. Second from the left. Black one,” he instructs. “I rarely use it, which makes it special, I guess.”

She lifts it delicately, turning it over in her hands. It’s heavier than she expected, sleek and cool against her skin. “Nice,” she grins. “Bet it makes everything look expensive.”

Lando hums in agreement, “Only shoots what’s directly in front of it. Look,” he says, getting so close to her that he’s now towering over her frame, while pointing at the camera. “Fixed lens, see? No lazy zooming, but the resolution is insane. The tricky part is that you have to move it yourself to get the shot you want,” he continues.

She looks up at him, noticing a slight shy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. And, just when she thought Lando couldn’t get any nerdier, she hears his voice again.

“It’s a twenty-eight millimeter lens. That’s not crazy wide,” he informs her. “If you stay in the middle, the background’s gonna fall off all soft and blurry. Makes it feel…” he trails off, clearing his throat. “Personal. It’s not even about perfect framing or whatever,” he rushes to add. “It just catches whatever’s there, no hiding.”

“Did you use it before?” she asks, curiosity pulling the words out of her mouth without having the time to think them through.

“I did,” he replies with a grin, giving her enough time to come up with her own scenarios before adding, “On my cars.”

She smiles, her eyes sparkling in the dim light of the room. “So. If I move, you have to follow, hm?”

Lando nods.

She sets the camera down gently, then leans against the wall beside the shelf with her arms crossed. She’s aware that what she’s suggesting it’s pure insanity, especially after what’s been happening between them lately.

“Okay,” she finally says, holding her hand toward him, palm open. “Can I see your phone for a sec?”

Lando frowns, trying to hide a curious smile. “Why?” he asks, sliding the phone from his pocket and unlocks it, handing it over with suspicion in his voice.

She only flashes him a smile back, thumbing through his apps until she finds the little Spotify icon. A few seconds later, the speakers come alive with a sultry bassline that wraps the room in a charged ambiance.

The teasing in her voice is easy to catch next time she asks, “You seriously have a sex playlist called sex playlist? Men are so predictable.”

He chuckles, “Yeah? What’s yours called?”

“I’ll send you the link,” she winks at him jokingly, but that still has an unexpected effect on Lando. Maybe because he’s starting to understand that his teammate is hardly ever joking, actually.

For a second that feels like a week, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just watches her, every muscle in his body taut like he’s holding himself back from something that’s about to come out anyway. It has to. Because everything has a limit, and theirs was crossed from the moment she entered his apartment.

With a quiet exhale, she presses herself lightly against the wall, then pushes off and crosses the living room in steady, cat-like steps, taking his hand in hers, fingers threading through his. Her touch is warm and somehow reassuring, her palm so small and silky against his. She guides Lando toward the couch with intent as if this isn’t his own home, nudging him gently until he sits.

She breaks away then, walks back across the room, and returns with the Leica in hand. “Turn it on,” she says simply, with enough clarity behind her words.

Lando stares at her, dumbfounded for a beat, before the corner of his mouth twitches upward in disbelief. “You’re insane.”

“I trust you to capture the best in me,” she admits.

He lets out a heavy breath, something between a laugh and a groan, and flips the switch at her insistence. The familiar click of the camera waking up is giving Lando chills, but when he glances up again, his hands still adjusting the ISO, she’s already pulling the shirt over her head, revealing a black bra and her toned shoulders dusted in the dim light.

She tilts her head. “Just make sure I look good, Lando.”

With that, she starts moving as slow as possible, every inch of revealed skin feeling like it’s offered, not given.

Lando’s hands are steady on the camera, but for some reason, breathing doesn’t feel automatic anymore, and he’s currently aware of every shaky breath he takes. His fingers work on instinct, dialing the aperture wider, letting in the glow of the cool lighting. His pulse is racing, heavy in his throat, because he can see everything through the lens, but is still not ready to look at her in the flesh.

For her, it’s easy to notice how focused he is, so she glances straight into the camera on purpose, with a spark of mischief in her gaze, like she knows exactly what she’s doing. To him. As a result, Lando’s knee starts bouncing, restless, his breathing too shallow to be subtle. He can’t remember the last time he felt so tightly wound, but it doesn’t even matter because what happens now will stay with him for a long time, and this is all he needs to remember from now on.

And then, it gets worse.

He stares at her while she’s arching slightly as she undoes her bra clasp, letting it slide off her shoulders and onto the floor without breaking eye contact with the camera. At that, Lando looks away out of instinct — out of that last shred of decency clawing at him. But the camera stays trained on her, and when he lifts his gaze again, it’s like a dam breaks inside him. Violently. The hunger that flashes across his face is instant, and impossible to hide. He doesn’t even try, because what fool could ever take his eyes off her?

Lando adjusts himself without thinking, moving in sync with her teasing gestures as she peels her panties down her legs from under her skirt. He tells himself to stay focused and capture the sensuality of her body with the last fragment of professionalism that he possesses. But that’s a losing game when his own body is burning with need, and every subtle curve and line of her turns into a map that he’s desperate to explore as soon as possible.

His focus lingers on the swell of her breasts, her nipples tightening in the open air. It forces him to swallow hard, a deep ache growing both inside him and his pants, knowing how badly he wants to lean forward and suck them into his mouth, to feel the heat of her skin against his tongue.

The camera dips lower as she dances to the hypnotic rhythm of his music, and Lando keeps working with her, baring the elegant slope of her waist and the strong lines of her thighs. The way she stands there, so natural and confident, feels like a direct hit to his chest that he welcomes without hesitation or any intention of dodging. She’s pure femininity, and that throws him into a black hole made only of her, where the gravity is so strong that there’s no escape.

He’s so focused on her that he almost stops breathing in order to make sure he gets the perfect shot, every shot. That makes Lando’s hand tighten around the camera, his knuckles whitening from the pressure. But his body has a mind on its own, apparently, and his thighs flex like he’s one wrong move away from standing. From closing the distance between them. Against his will, though, he sits there, shivering with the effort to stay still.

“Come on, Norris,” she says, and her voice wakes him up from the trance her shapes put him in. “I’ve seen you take tighter corners at Spa with less hesitation.”

Even though he tries to, he can’t stop the throaty laugh that comes out of him. Only for a moment, Lando lowers the camera again, and lets himself, finally, finally, see her. And this time, he doesn’t look away. He watches her shamelessly, while reaching behind him to take a cushion that he ends up tossing onto the floor near his feet, nodding toward it.

“Go on, then. Show me how desperate you are.”

There is something about the way he says it that sends a thrill straight through her. She heard that Lando is direct when it comes to his wants and needs, but to feel it on her skin hits different. Her pulse suddenly stutters with excitement as she lowers herself in front of him, straddling the cushion, her body already anticipating the liberating feeling.

The moment her hips roll forward and her mouth falls open in surprise at the faint pleasure, Lando is right there, capturing every gasp, every twitch, and every sweet reaction like it’s the only thing that matters. His mind runs wild with all the places he aches to touch — his hand curled around her throat, palms squeezing her breasts, fingers digging into her hips to hold her still while he teases her until she begs.

The temptation claws at him, full throttle. But he forces himself to handle the camera like a pro, because more than anything, he wants her to see what he sees: how devastatingly beautiful she is like this, undone and bold. Through his own lens, she’s a vision, and giving her that full picture keeps him going.

From her perspective, noticing Lando’s determination sends a fresh wave of heat throughout her body, making her rock her hips a little harder, and that puts a tension in his shoulders. A type of need he didn’t feel before.

To stop herself from making more embarrassing sounds, she meets his gaze over the camera, mouth slightly open. “Is this good?” she asks, voice breathy and half-mocking, although there’s something real underneath. A dare. A plea.

Lando looks at her again, revealing a flushed face and his blown wide pupils. “Yeah, don’t stop,” he replies hoarsely.

Her thighs squeeze around the cushion from the moment she hears the first note in voice, the soft fabric teasing against her clit with every slow roll of her hips, pulling breathy sounds from her. Behind the camera, Lando tails closely as she grinds back and forth, his jaw clenching at the small sounds slipping past her lips.

“Shit, that’s hot. Are you always this needy?” he asks out of pure curiosity, but the question is mostly rhetorical; of course she is. Judging by the way her chest heaves and how she leans forward slightly to catch as much friction as possible, the answer is obvious.

She wants to push back against the power shift, but she’s too lost in the rhythmic movement of her body. And it’s not as if Lando’s wrong. Every gentle brush gets increasingly out of control, each desperate grind into the cushion sending small waves of pleasure straight to her nerves, making her fingers curl into the couch for balance. For the control she’s rapidly losing.

Her eyes flutter closed for a moment, mouth constantly parting as the pleasure spirals inside her like a coil wound too tight.

Lando’s fingers flex over the shutter release, but he’s barely present anymore. He’s completely absorbed by what is happening on the other side of his lens, and it’s her moan that pulls him out of it, just as the pressure builds. So he reaches out, his hand entering the frame like an unexpected guest. With ease, his fingers grab the edge of the cushion beneath her, and she pauses, blinking up at him, flushed and dazed, breathing heavily like she just stepped out of the car after a last-lap push. With one strong pull, he slides it out from under her, making her gasp in surprise, her body jolting at the sudden loss.

“Lando,” she exhales irritated.

She gets her hands onto his knees to steady herself, thighs still wobbly, but he’s not looking at her anymore. He’s too busy staring at the soaked fabric instead, darkened with heat and want and everything she didn’t say out loud.

“That good?” he asks, but the arrogance in his voice diminished, giving way to his sincere curiosity.

She shakes her head, looking up at him again. “Not faking it, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

The fact that she is as sincere in her statement, encourages Lando to take things to the next level, just to see how much he can push before it’s too much. He throws the cushion aside with a thud, his eyes lit up with need.

“Come here,” he orders in a gentle tone, patting his lap.

She’s stunned at his words initially, and the way they leave no room for teasing. But then she catches the way his tongue drags slowly across his bottom lip, leaving it wet and shining, and something inside her pushes her to get up. She realizes that there’s nothing she wouldn’t do if he asked.

With calculated steps, she climbs him patiently, her thighs spreading over him. They’ve been in each other’s personal space in the past, when they had to do silly challenges for McLaren to entertain the fans. Still, even though there’s a camera between them just like before, the air feels different, charged with desire, unknown, and heavy lust. Because this time, it’s just them.

When her body sinks onto his, the scabrous fabric of his jeans meets the soaked warmth between her legs, the weight making Lando groan silently, his little sound hitting her low in her stomach. His reaction encourages her to continue, shifting on top of him in order to find the best position, enough to grind against his bulge. It’s thick and hard beneath her, and the simple contact is already maddening. Yet not nearly enough, and the realization that he’s just as affected by this makes the coil in her stomach tighten further.

“Keep going,” he speaks again as he lifts her skirt up to her waist, going back to the camera and angling it to capture the way she moves against him, right where her skin meets the fabric of his pants.

Her palm comes around his bicep for suport, letting the instincts guide her further. The pressure she chased a moment ago is still there, but it’s different this time around. More intense.

Lando grunts, his free hand gripping her hip to show her the pattern to follow. She whimpers while that sweet ache comes back, her body trembling with need. In no time, she can move on her own, and because she’s such a fast learner, Lando points the camera closer, eager to capture the wetness soaking through.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he says. “You’re making such a mess,” he exhales, bringing his hand between her legs to feel it before he could even process his own action. His thumb finds her clit, rubbing it gently, keeping his eyes on her face the whole time, craving to catch every reaction.

She moans, one hand squeezing his arm harder as her body rocks forward, chasing the release that she hopes it’s not that far into the future, especially if his hips continue to twitch beneath her the way they do, so impatient and reliant on her.

Unfortunately, the time almost stops the moment their faces get close enough to kiss. She can feel the heat of his breath and the pull between them, and she’s sure he can feel it too. Her eyes flick to his mouth, and Lando’s eyes stay on her, but no one dares to close the small gap. Because somehow, that would be more intimate than all of this. Kissing would mean acknowledging what’s been burning between them for a while now. It would mean admitting this is real, and admitting will complicate everything in both their personal and professional lives.

And neither of them are ready to take that chance yet.

With that in mind, she doesn’t lean in. She just closes her eyes and grinds harder, her hips rolling against his hand and the hard line of his cock beneath her. The sensation amplifies fast, and Lando never stops working her with his thumb. Soon enough, her breath comes out in spasms and her thighs start to shake. Her pace intensifies, chasing the high that’s been teasing at the edges of her patience, feeling the mess she’s made slick against Lando’s pants with every desperate press on it. Still, his hand stays steady, rubbing perfectly against her clit, matching the rhythm of her hips like he knows exactly all the ways she wants — and craves — to be touched.

With Lando’s help, it doesn’t take long until her body finally seizes, hips jerking forward uncontrollably as pleasure crashes over her. He moves with her, a silent apology for stopping her earlier written into every precise touch, making sure this time she falls apart completely. Because of him.

Luckily, the camera captures everything: his hand on her, the wet spot she’s left on his pants, the way her skin flushes and seems to crave more with each passing second, and the way her thighs shake when the aftershocks hit. It catches the way she starts trembling, too, body overwhelmed, aching for something deeper, something only he can give her right now.

Only he gives her time to ride it out instead, feeling all the ways her walls flutter, hungry and empty, and the sound that tears from his throat is nothing but a helpless moan. The sensation alone, even without him inside her, is enough to make his head spin. It wrecks him completely, makes him ache with the violent need to know how it would feel to be buried deep inside her, to have her tight, needy pussy squeezing around him while she comes undone all over again. Because of him.

The girl barely registers the camera being placed in her hands until Lando nudges her chin. “Here. See for yourself.”

Except, she doesn’t want it. Not yet. By her own choice, she takes it gently from his hand, presses RECORD again and turns it around, placing it on the padded arm of the couch. Facing them. Remembering Lando’s voice earlier, casual and offhand when he said that the camera only captures what’s in front of it.

Her fingers move impatiently, drifting to the hem of his shirt, bunching it in her hands. “Since you let me finish first,” she rushes to explain.

With that, she pulls the shirt up, and he lifts his arms to help her, muscles tightening under skin slick with the faintest sheen of sweat. Once it’s off, she tosses it to the side, her eyes drinking him in. Lando is warm under her palms, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath, and she senses the same tension in him that’s barely holding him together.

She studies his face while her hand drifts lower, trailing down the center of his stomach, pausing at the waistband of his jeans. Carefully, she slips her hand inside, where she finds him hot and so painfully hard that it makes her mouth water. Without any instructions, her fingers curl around his soft skin, and the sight alone makes his stomach flip. She starts to stroke him teasing, but before she can go quicker, Lando grabs her wrist, groaning low in his throat.

“Just a sec,” he pants, voice cracking slightly. His hands are already moving, guiding her hips back over his lap with a need that borders on desperation.

This time, there’s no fabric between them, and her soaked heat presses directly against his length, making them both shuddering at the contact; skin on skin and no more barriers, just the unfiltered reality of what they both want. His hands find home on her hips, big and heavy, his control hanging by a thread.

Agonizingly slow, her clit slides along his hardness, slick and warm, sending sharp jolts of pleasure from one body to another. He can barely contain himself at the way she finds it so easy to rock against him, faster when she feels how thirsty Lando gets in a matter of seconds. He’s leaking already, the head of his cock glistening, smearing against her folds as she moves.

Completely flushed and utterly drunk with pleasure, he shifts beneath her, his arms wrapping tight around her waist, pulling her closer, even though there’s no physical space left between them. But it’s useless. No matter how close they are, there is only one way that would truly satisfy his urge.

“Please,” he whispers next to the shell of her ear, desperate and breathless. “Can I slide in?”

She’s a lost cause by now, and her reply is reduced to a broken hum, while she sits up just enough to guide the thick head of his cock to her entrance. Lando’s patience snaps at her quick response, and he thrusts his hips up in one motion, his hands holding her hips and pulling her down onto him at the same time. The stretch is overwhelming and takes her by surprise, knocking the wind out of her and making her vision blur at the edges as she tries to take all of him.

They moan together, helpless, her hands landing on his chest as she laughs shakily. “You trying to break me in half or?”

“Didn’t think you’d be so tight,” he groans in a strained voice.

Lando tries his best to take it slow, but the way she welcomes him, so warm and perfect, nearly undoes him the moment he’s all in. A shudder runs down his spine as he grips her hips with more force, thinking maybe if he doesn’t hold her right, the world will actually end.

And it may, based on how her hands are sliding up, clawing at his shoulders with her nails digging in to anchor herself. Her breath shudders out in short bursts as she does, her body struggling to adjust, to take everything he has to offer. All of him.

To test the waters, she starts circling her hips, hoping she’ll find the angle that makes her breath hitch, and when she does, it’s like lightning strikes between them. He’s impossibly deep, touching places inside her she didn’t even know could feel this good. Her pussy hugs him so tightly that Lando has to grit his teeth to shut himself up. Then she tilts her hips forward just slightly with every grind, rocking her clit perfectly against his pelvis while he’s buried inside her.

The effect she was looking for is instant, and she hears Lando choking on another moan, finally, “Fuck, yeah. Right there,” his fingers dig into her skin, hunger battling in his wide eyes. “Do that again, it feels so fucking good.”

“Shit, Lando,” she breaths out. “So deep, I can feel you everywhere.”

She pulls him in again and again, until he is practically whining beneath her. Seeing Lando so lost inside her makes her losing the rhythm, her breathing turning ragged, thighs ready to give up as exhaustion and pleasure blur into one. It’s messy and greedy on both sides, and when she finally collapses against his chest, she sobs out a cry, her voice cracking with it.

“Need you,” she exhales. “I can’t hold it anymore.”

Lando doesn’t waste a breath. One sharp, hungry movement and he’s planting his feet against the floor for leverage, thrusting up into her with everything he’s got. She gasps at the same time he groans deep in his chest, the sound vibrating between them as he finally takes her the way they’ve both needed.

Her mouth goes dry.

His jaw tightens.

Their breath grows heavier, shared in the tight, sweaty space. Her body tenses, then squeezes around him with such perfect pressure it leaves him breathless. A high-pitched moan spills from her, unexpected and honest, and she slaps a hand over her mouth, biting at it in order to shut herself up.

Gently, Lando catches her wrist, holding it firm. “If you’re gonna bite something,” he tilts his head, offering his shoulder, “Be a good girl and bite me instead.”

Her breathing is too fast and her mind runs at the speed of an F1 car. She can’t think straight and, for a moment, she just stays there, her forehead brushing the curve of his shoulder as she tries to catch herself from falling in too deep. Then slowly, like she’s giving in to something bigger than her, she places a kiss on his skin. Her lips press gently on it, trailing along the line of his neck to the dip of his collarbone. It’s the closest thing she’ll ever give him. The closest thing to letting herself feel for him.

He’s still warm, salty with sweat, and soft under her lips. And he smells so good, like skin and heat and something clean that clings to her nose and settles in her chest like smoke.

It drugs her.

The way his scent mixes with the feel of his breath against her temple, the way his pulse flutters beneath her lips — she has to stop. It’s too much, too close, too real.

“Think we should bet every race weekend, what do you say?” asks Lando, his pace quickening, hands guiding her up and down his cock like it’s the only thing that keeps him sane. “Would die to have you like this all the time, hm?”

“Mhm,” she grinds down until his name is all she can say. “Fuck. I’m so close.”

“Yeah, baby. I feel you.”

Her voice breaks off into a moan right when she’s about to speak again, to tell him not to go there and call her that. But Lando rolls his hips, pushing deeper, filling her inch by inch until there’s no space left, which shuts her up in an instant. They fuck in a rhythm that shouldn’t work, all sweat-slicked skin and shaky breaths. The air fills up with obscene sounds of them, their bodies colliding with enough force to make her whimper and moan his name all over again, each time he thrusts.

To help himself, he spreads her wider, holding her open for him, watching the way he disappears inside her, utterly wrecked by the sight. “Taking me so fucking well,” he says between thrusts, dragging his mouth over her jaw. “Look.”

She whines while looking down at where they’re joined. Lando moves his gaze on her expression with a grin on his face, so proud when he feels every spasm in her body; it’s a total mess. Her slick is all over him, coating his cock, his thighs, soaking through the waistband of his jeans that are still shoved only halfway down his hips. Each time they meet, there’s a wet sound echoing between them, sticky and warm, ricocheting against the walls in Lando’s living room like a drumbeat pulling them closer to the edge.

“You like how wrecked you’ve got me?”

She nods frantically, squeezing him so tight it makes Lando see stars. At that, he reaches up, brushing the strands of hair from her face, tucking them behind her ears with his long fingers. His hand stays there a moment, continuing to slide lower, fingertips skimming her jaw, then wrapping gently around her throat, enough to feel her pulse. To hold her in place.

In a matter of seconds, their eyes lock again. Her chest heaves and her eyes shine, but not just from pleasure. It’s because she wants to tell him that this isn’t what she expected. It’s much, much more, and it will leave a deep mark, no matter which path they’ll choose to take tomorrow morning.

His hands move hungrily, down from her neck to her chest, cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples. He holds them carefully, wanting to memorize the shape, the weight, and the way they fill his palms, to make sure he won’t forget a single detail about her body.

“Lan,” she warns.

Lando hums, “Mhm. Right there with you, beautiful,” he assures her.

Her breathing is jagged, the rhythm of their hips desperate, chasing the edge that’s been teasing them since the moment she sank down onto him. Every motion drives him deeper, sends wave after wave crashing through her, because she’s right there for quite a while now.

“Hi there,” Lando’s voice brings her back. His hand comes up to cradle the back of her head, gently pulling her to see her face. “Look at me, I want to see you. Let me see you.”

Her body tenses, and just for a split second the frantic rhythm stutters, then finds its pace again as the orgasm rips through her with a blinding force. She keeps her eyes on his the whole time, riding it out with her hands burried in the curls at the back of his head. His hips jerk beneath her as he throbs inside her, overwhelmed by the way she fights to keep him in. It drives him crazy, and he moans loudly, trying to pull out, but her thighs close tighter around him.

“Inside,” she rushes to say, unable to form sentences longer than one word.

Lando’s jaw clenches so hard he feels like his teeth might snap from the force, every muscle in his body pulled tight and shivering. He holds on by a thread for half a second longer, but then her body flutters around him again, and with a loud, guttural gasp, he lets go, spilling inside her in thick pulses that only make her hold him tighter. His hands shake where they clutch at her hips, trying to pull her down even harder, like he can’t bear even a sliver of distance between them right in this moment.

None of them knows how much time passes like that, but neither of them moves again. She’s stays slumped against his chest, her face buried in the crook of his neck, while his arms stay locked around her waist, as if letting go might break whatever just happened between them.

Lando presses his cheek on the top of her head, his heart hammering so hard he’s sure she can feel it. But it’s fine, because he can feel hers, too.

His hands drift up and down her back in aimless strokes and, while she starts to come back to herself, she notices the music still playing softly around them, the same sultry beat from earlier floating through the air.

Her brows pinch together in confusion before realization hits. “How the fuck did you time your playlist so perfectly?”

Lando lets out a breathless laugh, “Talent.”

She snorts, dropping her head back onto his shoulder with a groan. “Goodness gracious, it is so hard tolerate you.”

“Liar,” he says, “You wanna kiss me so bad.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes, but the way her cheeks heat up gives her away immediately. Lando laughs under his breath again, cocky and so annoyingly right. She opens her mouth to fire back, to tell him that no, she definitely doesn’t want to kiss his smug ass, but then her eyes catch the little red light blinking from across the couch.

The camera. Still recording.

She nudges him softly, grinning against the flush in her cheeks, and points at it. “Smile and wave, Norris,” she whispers, and Lando immediately flashes the most ridiculous smirk at the lens, making her laugh for real this time.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2025

[day-dreamed]

believe

pairing: bob reynolds x f!reader summary: you overhear bob talking to yelena about his crush on you. tags: fluff, no thunderbolts spoilers word count: 440 author’s note: something small i thought of after seeing the movie last night! reqs for bob and bucky are open <3

“You should tell her how you feel.” 

The sound of Yelena’s voice floating to your ears from the common room has you stopping in your tracks, staying hidden in the hallway. You frown, wondering who she could be talking to. 

“What if she doesn’t feel the same way?” 

Your heart twists. Bob. You know you shouldn’t, but you keep listening, desperate to figure out who Bob has feelings for. The thought of him liking someone else other than you is something you don’t even want to think about. 

“Trust me, she does,” Yelena says, and you can hear the smile in her voice. 

“Really?” 

“Oh, yeah. Have you seen the way she looks at you? You can’t deny it.”

Bob pauses, and you wait with baited breath for him to answer. “But this is Y/N we’re talking about. And I’m just… me.”

At the sound of your name, your knees nearly buckle out from underneath you, but you just barely manage to hold yourself up.

“Don’t say that,” Yelena tells him firmly. “She would be lucky to be with you. You’re a good guy, Bob.”

“Thanks, Yelena,” he says softly. 

“Just think about what I said, yeah? About telling her. I will see you later.” 

When you hear her footsteps fade away, you step into the common room. Bob still remains unaware of your presence, facing the window and gazing out over the city. 

“Bob?” you call quietly. 

He spins around, eyes wide. “Oh—I—Um—You didn’t just hear that, did you?” he asks weakly, cheeks turning pink. 

Your heart starts to pound. “I did,” you nod. 

“Oh,” he breathes out, shoulders deflating. “I’m sorry.” 

You furrow your brows. “Why’re you sorry?” 

Bob stammers. “Because—I don’t know.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” you say, taking a few steps forward until you’re just inches away from him. You swallow around the sudden lump in your throat. “Is it… is it true?” 

His mouth opens and closes for a moment before he nods fervently, the blush on his cheeks growing darker. “Yeah. Yes, it is. It’s true. I just—I wasn’t sure if you would ever feel the same way so I thought I would talk to Yelena and when she said that you did I couldn’t believe her—”

You lean forward and press a short but sweet kiss to Bob’s lips, his eyes widening before they flutter shut. When you break away, he looks at you like you hung the moon and stars in the sky, and it makes your stomach fill with butterflies. A grin stretches across your face. 

“Do you believe her now?” you whisper. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I do,” he smiles.

[cookiewrites]

here's some rich scoups spoiling you thoughts i have been unable to get out of my head for the past months. the tl;dr of it all is that seungcheol is obsessed with spoiling his partner.

spoilt

wc: 1.0k

cw: rich!seungcheol x afab reader, mostly sfw but does mention penetrative and oral sex (reader reciving) a couple times, pet names for reader (baby, jagiya), little bit of praise kink. this has not been proofread.

seungcheol who loves when you spend his money. it starts simply, he makes sure he pays when you two eat out together. you try and protest it but he doesn't hear any of it, pulling out his card before you can even say anything about it - whether this is brunch or dinner.

seungcheol who uses this as an opening to start paying for things when you're at home too. ordering food in? use his card. doing some online shopping? put it on his account. you need new bedding? you both sleep in the bed, it's better to let him pay. he leaves a copy of his card around the apartment for you, putting it in your phone, making it even easier to use than your own, breaking down any excuse you have to use your own.

seungcheol who pays not as a method of control, but as a method of care. he knows you have your own money, and that you can afford to pay for things, you did it for all the years before he turned up. but he doesn't want you to worry about it any more, its part of how he looks after you. he explains this to you over and over, until you finally believe him, and put your own card hidden in the back of your purse for emergencies only.

seungcheol, who got so hard the first time you splurged on his card, that he had to bury himself in you. you came home with this beautiful necklace, rambling some apology about how expensive it was, and how you can return it if he wants, and all he can feel is his cock straining against the fabric at his jeans, seeing you finally feeling comfortable enough to let him pay for things.

"it looks so good jagiya, you look spoiled, that's exactly how i like you" he rambles as he kisses down your neck, putting a little mark right under where the chain sits. "lemme show you, baby, fuck..."

seungcheol who's favourite part of his day is coming home and seeing your haul from your day out, knowing he paid for all of it. you show him the trinkets you picked up for your shelves, and the new jumper you bought, and the earrings you bought already in your ears. the possessiveness he feels makes him feel a little dizzy, he treats you so well that you're showing it off. letting everyone else know how good he treats you.

seungcheol who gets whiney if you haven't bought anything in a while. he'll check his app and see you haven't spent anything in a bit and gets suspicious, knowing you've at least bought food in the last week, so why hasn't he paid? he'll bring it up to you, pouting, his lip sticking out. why would you hurt him like this?

seungcheol who'll use this as an excuse to pull up all the half filled baskets in your phone's browser and check them all out. he uses this as a threat, that if you aren't regularly treating yourself, that he'll do it for you. sometimes he'll just do it when you're cuddling. watching the tiktoks you're showing him, and then taking the phone out of your hands, to finish the purchases of a couple things, even as you try to stop him. there is no reason, to him at least, that you shouldn't have every single thing you want.

seungcheol who never uses the fact you buy yourself things as a reason to not buy you surprises as well. he uses the outgoings on his account to see what you're fixated on right now, and add on. is it blind boxes? he's bought you a full set. is it make up? he saw this palette he thought was cute. is it jewellery? you have a new ring to wear arriving tomorrow.

"it just reminded me of you!" he explains, pouting, as you question why he's bought you another gift. "it'll look so pretty on, baby, please? for me?" acting as if the gift for you, is actually a present for him.

seungcheol who literally gets off on spoiling you. he's finished in his pants several times as he ate you out, and you went on a shopping spree on his phone, telling him all the things you're buying. for him, this is exactly how things should be, you doing absolutely nothing, and getting completely spoilt anyway. all fucked out, and dressed up, getting anything you could possibly want.

"mmm baby you can give me another one" he groans against your thigh as you try to whine that it's too much, "i know you can baby, let me spoil you, yeah? yeah." he dives back in, losing himself in it, making you shake so much you can't even finish checking out - but he'll make sure to finish that for you later as well.

seungcheol who loves when you tell him how good he treats you, and how spoilt you are. it's a bit of a praise kink thing for him, but he just loves hearing how happy you are and how spoilt you feel. it makes his heart (and his cock) full. that's what this is about, making you feel even half of the love he holds for you.

"you're so good to me cheol" you groan, hands helplessly clawing at his back as he fills you up again. "f-fuck, so good to me, baby, no one treats me as well as you do." you ramble, letting him know just how good he is.

seungcheol who puts his black card in your mouth when you begin to complain that he is ruining your expensive lingerie, a very quick way to remind you that he can afford to buy you a new set a dozen times over - and sometimes he does it, just to prove the point.

seungcheol who's so proud when the guys point out how spoilt you are. if they even try and insinuate that it's a bad thing, he shuts it down immediately - reminding them that they'd be so lucky to even have someone to spoil. someone as special as you.

[starktonyx]

Alone in this shitty world (Bucky Barnes x Reader x John Walker)

Word count: 2.4k

Description: After Yelena’s sudden outburst, the group scatters around the streets of New York. And, as if this wasn’t already the weirdest day of your life, you find yourself reaching to comfort the last person you ever thought you'd feel sorry for, John Walker. And Bucky is as confused as you are.

Content warnings: Supersoldier!reader, John Walker being a bitch as usual, protective boyfriend Bucky, mental health talk, hurt/comfort.

Note: After watching Walker’s storyline in this movie I felt like I needed to write some hurt/comfort with him. Enjoy!

Masterlist

"So, what kind of super serum you both get?" Alexei's thick accent cuts through the silence.

You were sharing the front cabin of a stolen truck, Bucky behind the wheel, you in the middle, and Alexei by the window. He'd already declared the ride to Valentina's location a 'super soldier party', clearly over the moon about the whole thing.

"I ... uh don't know. Regular? Hydra" Bucky is the first to answer, quickly brushing off what he considered to be an irrelevant topic. Alexei on the other hand, reacted like it was the only thing he'd been wanting to know the whole time.

"Hydra! Ohh, fancy" Alexei grinned wide, Bucky just huffed at his excitement. "I got something mixed, still good, still powerful" he puffed his chest a little. "And you, pretty one, what is your serum ah?"

"Uh ... mine was Shield's. It was developed from Steve's dna" You reply. Alexei's face lights up with more amazement. 

"Ayy Shield! Straight from captain Rogers. She gets the premium brand, ah winter soldier?" He speaks to Bucky like he was breaking news, the latter just nodded absentmindedly.

"A super soldier couple, ha! what are the odds? you two lovely creatures made for each other, strong, beautiful and dangerous. Like spy movie" his laugh booms through the cabin as he pats a heavy hand on Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky pretends to ignore him, eyes still on the road, but his smirk was undeniable.

You just gave Alexie an amused smile, then gently squeezed Bucky's hand resting on the wheel. Without hesitation, he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on it without taking his eyes off the road. Alexei just watched with a knowing grin.

Bucky kept driving in silence, enjoying the calm before of the storm, because once you found Valentina, and her new shiny creation, at the former avengers tower, all hell broke loose.

God, how you missed being back in that truck.

Now, you were limping away from the tower where Bob– or Sentry now, whatever the hell Valentina was calling him now, had beaten the living shit out of all you. Your thoughts were cut short when you noticed Yelena snapping at everyone.

"What, it's my turn now?" Walker asked defensively, his tone only adding fuel to Yelena's anger.

"Oh no, you already know you're a piece of shit. And your family knows too" Yelena shots back without missing a beat.

"Wow" he muttered, his eyes dropping to the bent shield in his hands. He didn't argue to that, he didn’t know how to.

"Yelena, you're not alone in this–" you started, but she cut you off before you could finish.

"You shut up! We're all alone in this shitty world, you only say that cause you have Bucky" She cries out, her finger pointed at you like a dagger.

You didn't fight back to her, you knew she wasn't lashing out at you, not really. Maybe it was the pressure, maybe it was the just the fear taking over her.

Bucky turned to you, curious about your reaction, but your small smile was enough to say 'I'm okay'. She wasn't wrong, after all.

Then your gaze drifted to John, when you noticed from the corner of your eye his posture had shifted. It wasn't only anger you saw in him, it was something heavier. Something that stuck with you longer than it should've.

Normally you would just ignore Walker, silence had always been your preferred way to keep your sanity intact around him. But this time you couldn't help it, you kept your eyes on him a little bit longer.

And you saw it.

The way mentioning his family made his entire demeanor shift. The same reaction you saw the first time Bucky brought them up. And now Yelena had rubbed it in, like salt in an open wound.

You couldn't believe it, and would probably never admit it out loud, but you felt something for John Walker.

Pity.

The next thing you knew, the group had scattered, everyone going in different directions after Yelena's outburst.

And without really thinking, with Bucky walking by your side, you walked towards the same direction Walker had taken. You didn't exactly know why, but you felt like you needed to say something to him.

"This is a mess, doll" Bucky sighs, eyes scanning around like he would find an answer in the clueless people walking by. "I didn't think I'd come to this, but I think I should call Sam"

"Uh huh. Sure, let's call Sam. He can totally take down Sentry" Your tone was half sarcastic half distracted, as your gaze darted around trying to find John, who had walked fast enough to get lost in the busy streets of New York.

"I think he might know something– wait, are you okay, doll? What are you looking for?" Bucky stopped walking, but you didn't, giving him no choice but to catch up.

"Huh?" You ask, barely registering the question.

And then you spotted it, a flash of black and red cutting through the crowd, stomping rather than walking.

"There he is!" Your voice lit up, picking up your pace to reach your target. "Walker!" You shouted his name, loud and clear. No way he didn't hear you, not with his enhanced hearing. The way he sped up to get further from you confirmed it.

"Okay now, Walker?" Bucky asks, completely baffled. As far as he knew none of you could stand the guy.

"Listen honey" You say softly, weaving between pedestrians "I love you, but it wasn't cool to bring up in front of everyone that his wife took his baby and left him. They're just gonna keep throwing it in his face now"

Bucky shifted slightly, but still defensive. "Yeah well, he doesn't exactly make it easy not to"

"I know" you admitted. "But weirdly enough we're all stuck in this shit show together. We might as well try to work with him" You pause for a second, knowing you could catch up to Walker anytime now. "Just give me a second with him Buck, please babe?" You bat your eyelashes at him.

He gave you a long look, raising an eyebrow, clearly ready to protest. But he knew what you were doing. And you knew he knew.

"Alright" he grunts, rolling his eyes. "I'll be right behind you. With my favorite knife. In case you need me to stab him for you, doll" He flashed you an ironic smile, and you nodded back amused.

You turned back around and quickened your pace, finally catching up to Walker. Bucky kept his promise, a hand resting on his knife holder as he trailed behind you at what he considered a safe distance.

"Walker!" You called again, now standing just behind him.

"For fuck's sake, give me a break!" He came to an abrupt halt, turning around to face you, but still keeping his distance. "What, Y/N?” His harsh tone pulled you straight out of your rush.

"Wow, okay. I didn't really think this through" you admitted, realizing you hadn't actually planned what to say.

"You know what? I'm done. I'm done with everyone making fun of me. I get it, okay? I suck. What's new?" He threw his hands in the air dramatically, bitterly trash-talking himself.

"About what Yelena said—"

"Oh, I heard her just fine. And she's right, isn't she? You're all right. I'm a fucking asshole. That's why my family left, why everyone hates me" He continues letting the anger speak for himself.

But now that you stared at him for a little longer, instead of seeing the prick he portrayed in front of everyone, you could see underneath all that rage, there was something much softer.

Hurt.

So you didn't get defensive, instead, you speak softly to him.

"That's not true, John"

He froze. Taken aback by the fact that you've never called him by his first name before.

"Really? Be fucking honest with me" His voice cracked just slightly. "Cause everyone's made it pretty damn clear"

"We don't hate you" you said carefully. "You're just... hard to be around sometimes" You explain, his brows lifted at your honesty. "Look, I'm not trying anything here. I just want to talk, okay?. That's all"

He looks around, hesitant at first, but decides to drops his guard. He rolls his eyes before taking a step closer to you, never admitting he was curious about what you had to say. You pretend to not notice the sheen in his eyes once he's close to you.

He looks behind you, catching a sight of Bucky in the distance, arms on his hips, watching your interaction like a hawk.

"Don't worry about him, he's keeping watch" you brush it off, slightly amused.

And after a deep breath, you start. 

"So, you know how the serum works, right? It …enhances everything"

He gave a faint nod, prompting you to continue.

"It can make the good parts of you better, but it can also make the worst parts unbearable" you continue, letting memories you had buried down a long time ago, come to the surface. " When I first lost Bucky and Steve, back in the 40's, I was completely consumed by grief, by this ...” You pause for a second, searching for the right word. “Emptiness” you continued.

“They were all I had back then, and suddenly all my days just went by, all alone. Until one day Peggy Carter contacted me, offering me a spot on a super serum program. She said it was developed from the last blood sample taken of Steve” That seemed to finally peak his interest.

“It was quite experimental but I didn't mind, I had nothing left to lose. So I said yes, because I felt like that was my way to honor them, but deep down, I just wanted to be strong enough to destroy Hydra myself." You let out a bitter breath.

"As you can imagine, I was in no condition to take the serum. But once I did? that emptiness only grew louder. I lost control. I let all my pain out on the battlefield, told myself it was for the greater good. But really, I just wanted to hurt the world as much as it had hurt me" You confess to him, not being able to make eye contact. He didn't mind, he just listened attentively, finding he related to you in more ways than he could have ever imagined. "It went on like that for a long time, and I thought I would never stop feeling that anger. And then one day, the loss felt lighter, the emptiness began to fade away. That's when I finally stared seeing things clearer" You finally lift your gaze to meet his eyes through your glassy ones.

"That anger you feel inside you? It's real, it's the serum turning the volume up on your worst pain, but it's not everything you will ever be" You explain, and now it's his turn to drop his gaze to the floor. "I know what it feels like to drown in that, I know how hard it is to climb out of it, but trust me, it will fade eventually. I got Bucky back. I got my miracle. Maybe you'll get yours one day"

He bitterly chuckles.

"It doesn't feel that way. I'm just ... too messed up" He mumbles, and you shake your head.

"Look around, Walker. Every one of us is messed up too" you chuckle ironically, gesturing vaguely behind you. "We're all running on red numbers here. The only difference is, our worst mistakes weren't, you know... broadcasted to the whole world" You carefully admit, remembering his public incident back in Latvia.

You paused, then added softly. "I'm sorry yours were"

He didn't say anything right away, just blinked a few times, processing everything you told him.

"Thank you" It came out quiet, but it was honest.

It was is the kindest someone had treated him since the day his wife left.

"You know, it's never too late to start over with us" You admit, referring to the new dysfunctional group you had accidentally became a part of. “So, are you? with us?" You question.

He lingers for a second, before he gives you a small nod. He didn't have to say much, you could see how much your words meant to him by the way he looked at you. It was different than before.

You patted his shoulder gently and nod happily, before turning to head back to Bucky.

Walker notices Bucky's face shift into a smile the second he saw you coming. And just before you were too far away, you hear his voice once again.

"You know... I can see why he's so protective of you. He's lucky to share this shitty world with you" He grants, hinting back at what Yelena said earlier.  A smile tugs at your lips.

Before you could turn around to respond, a sudden explosion cracked through the air, followed by pedestrian’s screams. Chaos erupted in the streets as people began running in every direction.

You barely had time to process it before you caught the sound of something heavy crashing down, a huge chunk of concrete, straight above you.

In less than a second, two super soldiers blocked the blow, Walker with his dented shield raised above you and Bucky with his vibranium arm braced against the falling debris that shattered around them.

Even though you were as much of a super soldier as he was, Bucky still protected you like you were made of glass.

"Are you okay, doll?" he asked immediately. His hands swiftly dusting away little rests of concrete off your suit, eyes scanning your body for any injuries.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Walker doing the same, he was more subtle, but still watching you closely, making sure you weren't hurt.

"Yes. Thank you. Both of you." You nodded quickly, still catching your breath.

Bucky gave a short nod in Walker's direction, a silent acknowledgment.

Then your eyes lifted, and your heart dropped.

"Oh my god" You exclaimed, horrified at the sight. The people who had been running were now vanishing. One by one, melted into silhouettes.

You looked back to Walker, desperation setting in.

"You're with us, right?" You ask one more time.

This time, his nod came without hesitation.

"Great" you said, turning now towards Bucky. He nodded firmly, ready to jump into action. "Let's go"

[dirtylilspawn]

hi, i recently discovered your account, and now i'm just in love with your fics, i really liked the headcanons about reader manhandling lads boys. Can you do a reverse version? like, if they wanted to take revenge.

ᴍᴀɴʜᴀɴᴅʟᴇᴅ ᴘᴛ. 2

Summary: The lads boys manhandle you right back.

Fandom: Love & Deepspace

Parings: [Rafayel x Fem!Reader, Sylus x Fem!Reader, Caleb x Fem!Reader, Xavier x Fem!Reader, Zayne x Fem!Reader]

A/N: Hi!!! I'm so happy you like my fics especially the manhandling one, I had fun writing it. And it seems like a lot of people love it haha! Pls don't be afraid to ask anything else you want me to write next. Give me some more good inspiration yall, for me to work on lol. Manhandled pt. 1

Warnings: Fluff & humor, some suggestive stuff, cursing, jealousy, drunk reader

════════════════════════════

RAFAYEL

You and Rafayel frequently visit the beach whenever you can.

A was special place for the both of you.

It was summer break, a good excuse to once again visit the ocean together. Staying away from the heat, enjoying each other's company, eating great food, and walking along the sandy beach. That was your typical outing with Rafayel. And if you were feeling more adventurous, Rafayel would take you deep diving along the ocean floors. The two of you swimming along the currents, seeing the beauty of every coral reef or fish, and many other sea life.

Right now, your whole body was floating along the calm waters.

Your back and legs carried by the cool ocean, cradling you with ease. Your eyes were connected with the bright blue sky above you; a few small clouds pass by but otherwise it was a clear sky today. You smiled while letting out a chilled sigh.

You came over to Rafayel's place, wanting to use his private beach to relax and have fun. It has been a suffering hot for the last two weeks, and you needed a break. You didn't even ask him, the moment you showed up to his home, you were already in your two-piece swimsuit. A pretty white bikini with pink shell tracings along the edges, strings wrapping around your neck and upper torso, while the bottoms had string bows on the side of your waist. You also wore a pink see-through coverup with sandals. And to top it off, you held a basket filled with sandwiches, drinks, snack, desserts, that the two of you enjoyed.

This was a surprise of course, but a very openly welcomed surprise to Rafayel none-the-less. Seeing you in such a visually pleasing bikini was nothing but perfection in Rafayel's world, plus there was food, so really, he couldn't deny you. If he could, he'd tell you to dress like that all the time, 24/7. The only problem would be the onlookers gawking over your beauty, plus he knew you'd be against it anyways. A man can only dream.

Anyway, your thoughts soon came to a halt as you suddenly wondered to yourself, where the heck was your boyfriend? He was here with you during the early day, bathing in the sun, playing few games, swimming together. But as you look to both your sides seeing empty water, and Rafayel's beach cabana empty. You can't even hear him, and you were starting to get a bit anxious.

The last time you heard his voice before relaxing on top of the ocean, was that he'll be right back. That he was going to get something before returning to you. That was seven minutes ago

You didn't know what he was trying to do or get at, but it shouldn't take that long...right?

"Rafayel!?"

You called out as your body was still floating above the water. You hear nothing, no reply back. The only sounds were the wind blowing through some trees, and the swishing of the ocean underneath you.

"Where is he? He didn't ditch me...did he?"

You bite your lip, eyes staring up at the sky with a narrowed glare. Your throat emitting an annoyed groan as another minute passes on.

"He wouldn't...I bet he's scheming something...I can feel it..."

You quiet yourself to hear anything, anything at all. You didn't know why but you had a gut feeling that something was not up. You heart starts to pick up, making you feel on edge. Another minute of calm silence stresses you out as you shake your head.

"Okay that's it! I'm done waiting around, where the hell-AAH!!"

Before you could even get up and search for Rafayel, a strong hand starts to wrap around your legs, while the other hand made its way to your back. The mysterious person picked up from the water, holding you close. You're still screaming in horror at the sudden action, squirming in this person's arms, wondering how a stranger wandered into Rafayel's beach. But all those screams die down as you see your mischievous boyfriend with that annoying grin of his as he stared down at you. His whole-body drench with water, droplets from his hair landing onto your chest.

Rafayel then leans into your neck with rampant amounts of kisses. You sputter out nonsense as he continues to do this before leaning away to give you a sly wink.

"Hey princess, didn't miss me too much did ya~?"

"R-Rafayel! What! Why! You...jerk!"

Your terror went to confusion, which went to anger as you grabbed at his cheeks. Shaking his head with so much frustration causing the man to yelp himself getting away from your attack.

"Okay okay! I'm sorry, stop shaking me! You don't want me to drop you, do ya?"

You stop shaking him, but your pout still remains of your face as your arms were crossed against your chest.

"Where were you?"

"I wasn't that far away, just down below the reefs to find this."

Rafayel hand that was on your back reveals on your side a beautiful conch seashell. The outside a shiny iridescent silver refection, with the sun's rays, you could see the tiny rainbows reflected around the surface. On the inside material was a light violet color, its smooth base glittering, drops of water tracing the shell as if they were pearls. This was indeed beautiful shell, one that Rafayel motioned for you to take into your hands which you did. Your fingertips trace the patterns of the conch shell; it was the size of your palm.

"Isn't it beautiful, thought I find the most extravagant shell I can find, for the most extravagant woman here.

You didn't say anything, as you could feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, feeling a bit silly for worrying so much. Feeling embarrassed how the thought of him being underwater was a possibility. You look away from him, clutching the shell close to your chest.

"...it's pretty..."

Rafayel chuckles leaning in to give you a sweet kiss to your cheek. He starts to walk his way back to the shore.

"I'm sorry for scaring you princess, are you mad at me?"

You sigh, eyes returning to his as you smiled back at him.

"No, just next time bring me with you, I like it when we do things together."

Rafayel kisses your cheeks again, his nose brushing with yours.

"Fully noted. Though, I have to admit, hearing your screams was a lot funnier than I expected, cute even. I might want to hear it again~"

Rafayel stops, the ocean water only encompassing his whole waist. His arms start to get lose around your legs and back. He then teases by swaying you around in his arms, as if he has the nerve to throw you out of his embrace, and into the water harshly. You give him a glare, as you wrapped one arm around his neck securely.

"Don't even try fish boy."

Rafayel could only shiver at your threat, a playful yet nervous grin, as he continues to walk out of the ocean and onto the sandy shore.

════════════════════════════

SYLUS

You got into a fight.

No, not a serious fight where tensions rise in one's relationship that causes problems, no. I mean a petty silly fight that started out as a small disagreement, only to result in the both of you - mostly you - giving each other the silent treatment. Honestly you forgotten what the argument as about. Maybe it was about work life, or maybe it was that you had a bad day, whatever it was it made you pretty stubborn to talk to him. Always avoiding him, giving him sarcastic huffs, turning your head upward like some snotty rich girl. Refusing to acknowledge his presence in a very playful yet still mad stubborn kind of way.

He knows this, and he finds it adorable.

How his kitten is refusing any sort of affection due to one silly argument. Playing hard to get as he tries lure you in with apologies and love, while all you do is turn your head the other way. Like a stranger pushing a bowl of milk to a stray cat as it hisses in retaliation. He found it absolutely cute, but the cuteness soon died down into a slight irritation.

"My you sure are a sight for the eyes girly~"

"Aw thank you."

Sylus scoffed watching the sleezy older man compliment you like some common whore for him to take. He could overhear the whole conversation between you and him through an earpiece the two of you shared. And the more that bastard talk to you, the more upset Sylus got.

You were undercover obviously, gathering personal intel from a powerful criminal the frequented this nightclub in the N109 zone. You told Sylus about it in a very brief manner, expecting to go alone on this but the Onychinus leader came along with you. Because he'll be damned if he didn't, and he was right. He knows that this little argument between you and him was just no more than playful banter between you both, there was no actual problem. He knows inside you had already forgiven him, even though you won't admit it. He liked that aspect of your stubbornness, but now he didn't, because now he has to watch another man talk to you while you laugh and smile at his words - not actually - and he can't even get two words in before you turn away.

It bothered him.

And it bothered him even more when he sees this old man start to get fresh. His dirty hands making their way to your exposed thigh. Making his way up your thigh, a goal to get underneath your short red dress. A dress he had bought for you one time, a dress that he can only undress and feel up underneath.

Yeah, he's had enough of this.

Time to put an end to your game.

You on the other hand were trying so hard not to punch the man in the face. Your face twitching in anger but still acting coy and sweet, swatting the old man 's hand playfully off, giggling, but deep down you were seething. You just wanted to go home with Sylus and end this night quickly. Just a little more info, then you can finally go.

Your thoughts were soon interrupted when you can see your intimidating boyfriend waltz right up to the private corner where you and your suspect were sitting. He parted the crowd of dancers with ease, his face stone cold and serious, as his red eyes glowered at the scene in front of him. You cursed inside, as Sylus is now right in front of you. His big body looming over yours as you sat nervously.

"Time to go dove."

It was all he said, you were happy he's here. Happy that he came to get you. But at the same time the stubbornness from before rises, now upset at him for blowing your mission. You sat up hands pushing at his chest gently to make him go back, but the man does not bulge an inch.

"What are yo-"

"Hey, were busy here pal."

The elder man then suddenly gets up; he glares at Sylus while bringing you back close to him. His arm and hand wrapped around your waist, making you cringe not liking being this close to the guy. Before you could even say anything, or push this man away, you saw the familiar dark red and black mist of Sylus evol activating around the old man. He grunts in pain, his whole body capsulated by the powerful evol making his hand come off your waist. It crushed him a bit all before he was suddenly thrown back against the leather couch. He let's out a painful groan, as his body sags pathetically.

You watch this, only to gasp loudly yourself as you had found yourself being picked up by Sylus. Your whole body thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, ass sticking out and your dress ridding up your thighs making you blush heavily.

"Sylus!"

"We're going now."

He simply says before making his way out of the club, parting the shocked crowded of people that witness the embarrassing scene. As if that wasn't enough, Sylus gave your ass a sharp spank to your cheek making you cry out with shock. Your butt wiggling at the stinging - but very pleasurable - slap to your ass. You whine as you cover your face from the lingering eyes, you did this until Sylus makes his way outside the club. His feet stop as he made it to his motorcycle where he had parked it.

"Sylus put me down!"

"I don't think so kitten you're in time out."

"Time out!?"

"Well, until you apologize and say that you won't ignore me. Otherwise, you'll be staying up here for a while~"

Is your boyfriend seriously putting you in air jail until you apologize for ignoring him. You sigh, rubbing your hand on your forehead, cheeks puff out as you try to wiggle out of this. But it was no use, as he held a firm grip on you. His hand running up and down your smooth back thigh, teasing yet comforting. Honestly it felt so much better having his hand on your thigh than that old man's hand. So much better.

"Mmm...sorry..."

"What was that kitten I couldn't hear you."

You can just hear the smirk on his face stretching. It made grumble more, arms crossed as you looked at the ground in defeat.

"I sorry, I won't ignore you anymore...now can you put me down! I'm starting to get dizzy here."

"Seems you have forgotten the magic words that go to that sentence."

You let out a long groan, your body slumping his his hold. You can hear his signature laugh which made you want to just hide away and curl up into a little ball. With man was going to be the death of you with his endless teasing.

"Please put me down."

Sylus lets out a hum of approval before setting you back down on the cement ground. You stumble a bit on your heels before looking up at him flustered. He grins down at you, eyes racking every part of your body making you feel so small. He raises a hand to caress your cheek affectionately. Sylus then leans down to give your lips a brief but passionate kiss on your glossed lips. You close your eyes leaning in gor more. All those times ignoring his advances made you realize just how touched starved you are with this man.

He pulls away, which made you whine - he definitely heard - moving to near towards your ear. Making you shiver feeling his breath against your skin lightly.

"Good girl, now let's get back home so we can make up properly. You kept avoiding me for so long, it's about time I take my well-deserved fill~"

════════════════════════════

CALEB

"Hmm...where are you pipsqueak?!"

A goofy smile made it to your face as you hide behind a tree from Caleb. Your back against the wide tree, looking over to see Caleb walking along the glassy fields slowly with a grin stretching his lips. Heart pounding in your chest at the prospect of getting caught by him. You try as much to stifle your own laugher or breaths as he inches closer to where you were.

It was a very bright warm day today, Caleb suggested going out and taking a nice walk around the park meadows nearby. You agreed to this and spent your whole day with Caleb as you walked around the park. Passing by kids who run along the sidewalk or hanged around the jungle gym. Food venders who you defiantly stop by, grabbing something to eat with their delicious food. And couples ranging from your age to elderly ones that sat on benches complimenting you and Caleb and your youth.

It was a very peaceful day.

Once you guys made it to the widespread meadow, you couldn't help but feel a bit playful with him. Before he could even say anything, you start to run away from him, taunting about how he couldn't catch you. Making Caleb grin with amusement and run right after you. The both of you laughing and giggling like little kids. It felt so cliche yet wholesome at the same time running after each other in a field of flowers. It was moments like these that Caleb treasures the most, just having so much fun with you, seeing the look of happiness on your face.

"[Y/N]! You can't hide forever."

You hear Caleb call out, but you didn't respond, as you were still hiding behind the tree you picked out. You slid down the tree into a kneeling crouch, staying as quiet as you could so he couldn't hear. You can hear the faint steps of shoes crunching on the grassy ground come closer and closer. Your heart pounding heavily inside your chest, until suddenly you couldn't hear his footsteps anymore.

You wait a few moments and still you couldn't hear Caleb, nor did he call out again. It was silent, too silent.

You got up from crouching and turn yourself around to look around the tree, seeing no trace of where Caleb was. This caused your heart to skip in fear. You curse inside your head before backing away, knowing Caleb probably would jump out and likely find where you are. You had to get out of there quickly.

And so you do back away.

Right into Calebs chest.

His lips right next your ear, with and evil smirk stretching across his lips.

"Gotcha~"

"Aah!"

Before you know it, his hands grappled your waist, immediately going into a full-on tickle fight. His fingers digging into your sides, tickling you with no mercy whatsoever. You laugh, tears pricking your eyes as you try to move away from his assault. But no, this boy had an iron hold on you.

"Caleb! Haha...w-wait nooo~!"

"After running from me, this is your punishment pipsqueak~"

You whine and moan trying to find a way to get out of this situation. It wasn't until you both found yourself on the ground where you had found an opportunity. His body towered over yours as he stops tickling you for a moment, watching as you trying to catch your breath. The moment you do was the moment you striked, as your hands were placed upon his shoulders. Pushing him over onto the grass with you straddling his waist.

"Ha! Take that!"

Caleb laughs grinning with playful mischief.

"The games not over yet babe!"

His hands are on your waist again as he then tackles you back down, rolling you onto the grass while he was right above you again. Your shock face turns into determination, taking that as a challenge. You roll over him again to pin him down, and he does the same. The both of you laughing about as the two of your rolled along the meadow, trying to pin one another.

It wasn't until Calbe gets dizzy that he stops this. Forcefully manhandling you down with much ease. His hands now pinning your wrists above your head. He pants heavily, looking down at you with his own victorious smile; his looming presence shadows your own body. You try to wiggle away with no avail, Caleb having too much of a hold on you. No match for his ridiculous amount of strength.

"Give up?"

You grunt before letting out a long sigh, head dropping on ground hair messy as well as your clothes. It was a simple pair of jean shorts and [F/C] shirt. He was messy as well, you can see a few grass strands cling to his body, shirt, and pants. A few specks of dirt here and there. His hair was messy, his dog tag necklace dangling above you. You can feel your cheeks heat up, defeated and embarrassed.

You grumble to yourself, looking away from his lingering gaze which made him chuckle. Thinking just how cute you were pinned beneath him, it made his heart flutter.

"Fine, I give up.

Caleb hums, "Good."

He leans down to kiss your lips making your eyes widen but lean into the kiss anyway. He pulls away only to cover your entire face with kisses, causing you to giggle from his cute actions. He continues to do this, even going down to your neck which made you chuckle even more.

Caleb then sighs blissfully in between you neck and shoulder.

He stops and let's go of your wrists, only for him to put his full body weight on top of you. His head laying on your chest nuzzling you, his eyes closed as he basks in this moment the two of you shared.

"Agh, Caleb your heavy...get off~"

"Hmm...nah, let's stay like this for a little while more..."

He says this holding you close like you were so teddy bear. You sigh as you look up at the clear blue sky, feeling the cool wind on your face making you feel a bit drowsy yourself. Your hands wrapped around his head, hands threading through his dark brown locks. Nails scratching his scalp making him groan, burring his head more into your chest.

Everything felt so peaceful and calm in that very moment.

That is until something shifts and prods against your mid-thigh.

"Uh...Caleb?"

"Sorry squeaks, you can't really blame me here."

════════════════════════════

XAVIER

He got a call from Tara.

Saying something about helping her with you in the mix of things, it sounded urgent. So of course, Xavier immediately got up to go over to where you were. You told Xavier that you were going out with Tara and Simone for a girl's night out. Just a simple date with the crew, drinking and some karaoke. He smiles to this, saying to be careful and have fun, giving you a kiss as he watched you head out.

And now he watches as you were singing your heart out to some random song, standing on top of a table, microphone in hand, as you slur the lyrics to the song badly. He watched this drunk you in action with amusement but worry. Tara was also there watching the hilarious scene, but she was sat next to Simone who was also heavily drunk, cheering you on with slurred "Whoos", her eyes barely open. Tara was holding her up as she was slumped against the couch, trying to get her to drink water.

"It's been like this for an hour; can you take care of [Y/N]. I have to get Simone back to her place; it's a bit far."

Xavier nods his head, "Yeah, I'll take care of her. You go on ahead."

Tara nods and she gets up bring Simone on her feet. She wobbles and whines about how she wants to stay more, but Tara declines that. She had already called a taxi to come pick them up. Both exit the room, leaving just you and Xavier. You didn't even know Xavier was in the room, to focused on the song at hand.

That was until Xavier grabbed the remote and paused the karaoke game on the tv, the room now silent, making you groan and turn to him. There was a pout on your face, but it soon turned to a goofy smile as you saw your boyfriend was here.

"Xaaavier, your here!"

You lifted up your arms joyfully making Xavier chuckle.

"[Y/N] what are you doing?"

You laugh.

"I'm singing obviously, duuh, c-come on up...and sing with meee~"

You start to dance on top of the table, making it wobble. And Xavier catches this, worried about your well-being.

"I think you done enough singing for today angel, how about we go home."

You turn to him with a sad pout.

"What? Nooo...the night is young just one more song pleeeease~"

"You're drunk [Y/N], you have to come home."

Your head shakes, as you crossed your arms like a child.

"How dare you good sir, I'm not drunk...can a drunk person dance like this!"

You then dance terribly on top of the table, limbs moving carelessly in the air, your skirt flowing with every movement of your hips. Xavier sees this and shakes his head with a laugh exiting his lips. He found this adorable; you completely wasted dancing like nobody watching. It almost made him wish he had his phone to record this silly moment of you.

But his amusement turned into worry as he saw the table wobbling again, this time more frequently.

"[Y/N], how about we get down-"

"No way party pooper, I'm not fini-"

The table buckled violently underneath you, causing you to stumble and fall. The microphone in your hand falling out and onto the floor with a loud thud. You gasp, heart pounding in your chest as you felt the scary sensation of falling. But Xavier being the quick person he is caught you just in time. His arms wrapped around your waist securely, as you had wrapped your arms around his neck. Xavier made your legs wrap around his waist, his hands holding your thighs so you wouldn't go anywhere. Your body was shaking from the frightening fall, sobering you up just a bit.

"Uhm...you know what...your right...I should probably get home...yeah."

You said as you try to calm your frantic heart, clinging onto Xavier like a life preserver. You can hear him chuckle at your words in your ear, his hand rubbing your back soothingly. He doesn't say anything but walk over to grab an un-open bottled water for you and your purse. His one hand still carrying you with no struggle. You can feel your heats heat up in embarrassment, as you and Xavier walked out of the karaoke room. A few passersby's watching confused at the situation.

You moan, hiding your face in his neck, you can feel the chill air of the night as Xavier walks out the building.

"Here, drink."

Xavier orders you to drink the water, presenting it to you. You grab the bottle, unscrewing the cap before taking a nice swig of water down your throat. One hand was wrapped around his neck while the other clutched the bottle, groaning at the cool refreshing water. Xavier continued to walk down the sidewalk, his hands clutching underneath your thighs that still was wrapped around his waist. You stop drinking the water when done, the liquid reaching the bottom of the bottle, as it was almost finished. You let out a long sigh, resting your head on Xavier's shoulder.

"Feeling a bit better?"

"Mhm..."

You mumbled with a yawn. There was silence between you two as Xavier continued to walk with you still in his arms. You can still feel the embarrassment still lingering in your cheeks. Your boyfriend seeing your dance ridiculously while also carrying you like a child. You can see a few more people walk along the sidewalk seeing this embarrassing situation you've gotten yourself in. You wiggle in Xavier's tight grasp he has on you. His manhandling on you getting to your head, but he doesn't care as he holds on to you tightly not wanting to let you go.

"Y-You know you can set me down now, I can walk."

Xavier smiles shaking his head. He leans into your neck giving you sweet butterfly kisses all before he nips at your neck with his teeth. Causing you to gasp and whine more, face hotter than before.

"No, I think I'll hold you till we get back. Who knows what will happen if I let you go. You might just climb up one of these lamp posts and start dancing~"

"Xaaavier.."

Yeah, you had a feeling he'd hold this over you for a while.

════════════════════════════

ZAYNE

"Are you going to wear those?"

That's the question Zayne asked you firsthand. Seeing you place on a pair of nice heels on. Heels that were a little higher than the normal pair of heels you would usually wear to a formal event. The two of you were going out to a fancy gathering with some of Zayne's collogues. There was a plus one, and Zayne asked if you had wanted to accompany him to which you had said yes. Knowing that he finds you company to these certain event barrable then if he had gone alone.

You looked up at him with a coy smile stretched across your lips. You hand leaving your feet as you just finished placing the second heel on your right foot. You stand up giving him a good spin around, showcasing your beautiful outfit to him. A long silver dress, your hair up in a tight bun, earrings, a necklace, and those high heels.

"What? The heels? You don't like them?"

Zayne doesn't say anything, only starting down at the shiny silver heels you wore. He adjusts his tie on his tux, as his body was facing a bedroom mirror.

"They're a bit higher than what you normally wear my love."

You get what he was saying to you, that these heels were too much. How he was worried you'd be too uncomfortable all throughout the evening wearing them. Getting yourself hurt making it unbearable to walk. But you were too confident and stubborn, thinking nothing of it when putting on these heels. You looked too good in your outfit, and these heels topped it off, you figured you could handle them.

"Yeah, but I can handle them perfectly see."

You walked like a model on a runway, showing him how you were comfortable with these heels on your feet. You then turn to him with a playful smirk, a hand on your hips.

"See, easy no need to worry I'm fine."

Zayne cocks a brow up as he looks at you for a moment, as if scanning your expressions. He then sighs rolling his eyes back over to the mirror he was facing, checking out his appearance for the final time.

"Alright then, don't come complaining to me when your feet are in agony."

You puff your cheeks at him, sticking your tongue out playfully.

"Oh please! I'm stronger than I look, I bet I can even last the whole night!"

Zayne lets out a small huff of a laugh, while shaking his head, a small but all-knowing grin curling the corner of his lips.

"I know you're strong honey, c'mon it's about time we head out."

And that's where are story leads us, to you sitting on an expensive couch in a private room with Zayne. Your legs and feet propped up on Zayne's lap as his rough hands massaged the soles of your feet. His suit jacket was off, as the sleeves of his black dress blazer was rolled up to his elbows showing his scars. You were dramatically laying back against the couch's armrest, letting out pitiful groans and whines. Your head was tilt back to the decorative ceiling; the feeling of Zayne's hands massage you making you sigh with relief.

Thirty minutes.

Once you reached the thirty-minute mark of wearing those heels, began the intense pain that came after it. You tried your best to stifle the pain away, tried to grin your best smile while taking to many of Zanye's collogues. But the searing pain of those damn heels digging into your skin, making your feet sore with every second. The constant ache with every step you took. Hell, you even stumbled a bit which made people question if you're okay which was embarrassing. It wasn't until you actually stumble and fall into you boyfriend's arms that you knew you were done.

Here was your boyfriend, guiding you to a private room away from the massive party of onlookers. Guiding you gently to the couch so you can sit. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't need to say anything because you already know what's going through his mind.

"I guessing this is the part where you say I told you so."

Zayne chuckles at your pouty tone. Even with your disgruntled appearance he still finds you absolutely gorgeous. One of his hands ran up and down your legs, your dress ridding up a bit, as his hands made contact with your thigh causing you to shiver. He gives you thigh a good squeeze before lifting your right foot up, making you quirk an eyebrow at him. But it soon went away when his lips pressed a chaste kiss against your ankle. Giving you a good number of kisses till he reached about twelve.

"I wouldn't stoop to such lows my beloved."

He speaks sending a painfully blissful pressure point to your bottom foot causing you to whimper. God, when it came to massages, he was so great at them, always manhandling your body, subduing you into a messy puddle.

"But I will say next time please don't compromise your own health just because of some fashionable clothes, okay?"

You look up at him, seeing his gentle expression towards you. Your heart flickers, giving him small smile back.

"Okay...sorry for cutting the party short."

"No apologies needed, I wasn't really focused on it anyway...now-"

Zayne had placed your legs and feet aside before standing up from the couch. He then gets his suit jacket and places it along your shoulders. He gets your heels in one hand, before wrapping his left arm around you to pick you up. You gasp in shock, wrapping your arms around your neck as he picks you up, one hand with ease. He gives you a smirk, making your cheeks flush and stomach twist.

"-Let's get you back home so I can take care of you."

"B-But wait! What about the others? Seeing me like this in your arms?"

Zayne only walks back to the door that led you to the private room, his right hand the held your heels operating to twist the door handle.

"I'll just say I'm tending to my dear patient who's in need of my assistance~"

And that's exactly what he said, though a big portion of embarrassment still resided inside you as you were carried away. All because a pair of some stupid heels.

════════════════════════════

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

To love me better

Tags: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna x fem!Reader, american!Reader, forced/arranged marriage, dark romance trope, dead dove, age gap romance (reader is around 21-22, Sukuna is 37), cursing, suggestive language, use of nicknames like “doll”, use of y/n, NSFW, MDNI, Sukuna is his own warning.

Synopsis: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna owns all of entertainment district. You’re trying to work to put yourself through law school. He has a proposition for you, and you have one for him. Chaos ensues.

An: Professor Higuruma has entered the chat. I’m sorry this part is a little short, but if I included the next scene in this part, it would be WAY too long.

Part one. | Part two. | Part three. |

*art creds for sukuna image goes to @.maru6 here on tumblr

You’re starting to believe that you dreamt the whole marriage negotiation with Sukuna.

It had been nearly a week since he sat you down in his office, and he’s been radio silence ever since. So, maybe you dreamt it all, or perhaps he decided against the whole marriage thing. If that was the case, you needed to start looking for other jobs.

Your Friday afternoons were reserved for Higuruma’s criminal law class. You sat at your desk, typing away on your computer that your student loan paid for. It was second-hand from a different girl who had just passed her bar exam. Her parents bought her the newest MacBook on the market as a present.

When you passed your bar exam, you’d probably buy yourself a two thousand yen cake from the grocery store. Maybe you’ll even splurge and spend five thousand yen on an ice cream cake.

You halfway hear your professor assign a plethora of readings spanning from case files to different codes of law.

"It's a good thing C's get degrees, huh?" a sheepish playful voice whispers from beside you. Your eyes glance over towards the guy next to you. You're able to immediately recognize him as Yuji Itadori.

Before Sukuna, you only took notice of Yuji since he tried to make friends with everyone, regardless of social status. Even if you've barely spoken with him, you feel a sort of kinship with him.

Now, your eyes immediately fix on his soft pink hair. While Sukuna's felt more like a dusty rose color. Yuji's was brighter -- untainted from crime.

"Is a C going to help you pass your bar exam though?" you whisper back softly, giving him a smile.

"You're so cruel~" Yuji softly whines as he dramatically slumps back into his chair. You quietly laugh from his theatric display. "And here I thought you'd be so kind and offer to help me study..."

You glance back towards him before scanning everyone else in the lecture. The majority of the other students were dutifully taking notes.

"Uh... why me?" You ask, cocking your eyebrow at the male before you realized how rude that probably sounded. "I mean, why would you ask me for that? Wouldn't you be better off asking the top performers in our class?"

"One of those pretentious jerks? Give me a break," Yuji rolls his eyes as he leans towards you. He's not too close to make you uncomfortable, just close enough to whisper without disturbing anyone. "Besides, you seem nice. Also, we sit beside each other everyday. Aren't those good enough reasons?"

Before you could even think to reply, Higuruma addressed the entire class. It was the end of the lecture period.

“Alright everyone, please remember to have a safe weekend and to stay out of trouble,” Professor Higuruma says from the forefront of the class. Students immediately begin to gather their belongings and shuffle out of the lecture hall.

"Let me know what you decide next week!" Yuji said as he rushed out of the door like he couldn't get away from the academic setting fast enough.

You finish up a few quick edits on your notes before saving them and promptly sliding your laptop into your bag. You thought about checking your phone to see if Sukuna had left you any cryptic messages, but you decided against it. It’s not like you were desperate or anything.

“Ah, Y/n, do you mind staying for a bit? I would like a word with you,” Higuruma’s voice spoke up. He wasn’t nearly as loud as he could be while lecturing.

Your body tenses as you slowly pull your messenger bag over your shoulder. “Sure…” you respond hesitantly.

He knows. He knows that you’re practically engaged to a yakuza lord. He knows that you’ve been dancing dangerously close to sin at Malevolent Mass. He’s going to report you to student affairs. He’s—

Your mind swirls with all of your thoughts Your brain was running so fast you could barely keep up.

The last student leaves the lecture hall, and you can hear the soft sounds of the second hand ticking from the clock mounted to the wall.

Your steps are slow and calculated. Higuruma was at his desk, collecting papers into his bag. He then looked up at you and gave you a calm, fond smile.

You try to ease your weary heart, telling yourself that he’d look much less happy if he had caught onto you.

"I apologize. I'm sure you must be busy," he starts out as he finishes packing up his bag. He straightened his posture, having to look down at you now that he wasn't hunched over. "I wanted to just touch base with you about your paper."

"Oh okay," you inwardly let out a huge sigh of relief, but your curiosity soon resurfaced. "What about my paper?"

"Don't worry. It was a great paper, y/n. I have read summations from licensed attorneys that pale in comparison to your paper." You narrow your eyes at him, feeling a gnawing sensation of anxiety sink in.

"But..?" you prompt.

Higuruma gives a knowing smile, appreciative of your inquisitive nature. "But I was wondering what made you write about spousal privilege... The last I checked you were looking to be civil litigation attorney -- not a criminal defense attorney. So, why would you want to research something like spousal privilege?"

You swallow thickly. You had found interest in spousal privilege due to your arrangement with Sukuna. Spousal privilege allowed for wives and husbands to refuse to testify against their spouse if it would indict their spouse on any crime. There were specifications on this law, and there were certain instances were spousal privilege couldn't be upheld. Overall, Japan looked to uphold the sanctity of marriage, and you looked to uphold your image by not being called to testify against your husband one day.

"Oh... I just found it to be interesting. I think it's good for all attorneys to be well-rounded, right?" you finally respond, giving your best attempt at bluffing the criminal defense attorney Hiromi Higuruma.

"You're most certainly right." He places his messenger bag on his shoulder. "I was just looking forward to you switching majors. It'd be a pleasure to steal one of Kento Nanami's best proteges."

You feel your face warm from his overzealous compliment. You were definitely not one of Nanami's best students. Still, you enjoyed the praise.

"I'm sorry to disappoint," you give a small laugh, consciously making an effort to joke with him naturally.

“Disappoint? No, no, you impress me.” His eyes meet yours, and for the first time since starting school, you see him for who he is. He had been nothing but kind, patient, and nurturing. He cared a lot about the subject he taught, and he tried his hardest to help his students learn.

Criminal defense attorneys get a bad wrap for being arrogant and pretentious to a degree, and that’s not exactly a lie either. You’ve seen Higuruma in court before. You know his persona can overwhelm a courtroom easily with his confidence.

“I really appreciate that, Mr. Higuruma.” You drop his gaze, letting your eyes rest upon the floor as a small smile curled up on your lips.

“You can call me Hiromi when we’re not in class,” Higuruma said as he walked towards the door. He held his hand out for you to follow him. “Well, if you ever have any doubts about civil law, please let me be the first to know. I’d love to have you on the criminal law side.”

You follow beside him closely, and you feel a warmth rush your cheeks as Hiromi hovers his hand over the small of your back. He wasn’t exactly touching you, but you could feel him there — guiding you.

“I promise I’ll come to you first if I ever want to betray Mr. Nanami,” you laugh softly, but your mind is racing, wondering where he was guiding you.

Coincidentally enough, a tall muscular figure with blonde hair was walking towards you two in the hall. “Who’s betraying me?” Nanami asked as he walked closer towards you and Hiromi.

Your eyes flicker back and forth between Nanami, Hiromi, and the girl who was standing beside Nanami. You took a moment, trying to place her here as a student, but you came up short.

“Stop trying to steal my students away from me,” Nanami lightheartedly scolded Hiromi with an eye roll.

“It’s not stealing if she decides to leave civil law on her own volition. I’m simply showing her the good side to law,” Hiromi responded. You feel your back arch a bit underneath his touch as his hand rested against your back now with more casualty.

“Ah yes, the good side. Also known as the side who gets troublemakers off the hook. Don’t forget, y/n. Civil law is all about holding people accountable. Criminal law is about being the least accountable,” Nanami said with a calm smile. Your eyes wandered towards Nanami’s hand, noticing it was also placed on the young woman’s back. What was going on here?

“Alright. That’s enough from you,” Hiromi warmly laughed. It was a laugh that put your nerves at ease. Still, your skin crawled where his hand was placed. Your mind flashed back to the club, remembering how it felt when Sukuna had his hand in that exact spot, guiding you to his office.

Sukuna’s touch oddly felt like a warm security blanket, while Hiromi’s touch felt like static electricity building. You knew you were about to get shocked.

“Miss Nanami, it’s always good to see you.” Hiromi bowed slightly with respect. You feel the weight of realization set in on you. That was Nanami’s wife who he was touching like that.

“You as well,” Nanami’s wife responded fondly.

“Alright. Let’s go, Destinee, before Hiromi also tries to indoctrinate you into some sort of criminal law degree.”

Hiromi merely laughed before guiding you away from Nanami and his wife. You felt your heart start to thud in your chest. Where was he leading you?

“You don’t have any other classes today, do you?” Hiromi asked as he looked to his side. He had to crane his neck downwards to look at you thanks to the size difference.

You bit your lip slightly out of nervous habit, wondering if you should lie to him. His hand felt heavy on your back, and a weird sensation of guilt was pooling in your stomach. You weren’t even exactly committed to Sukuna yet since you hadn’t signed whatever contract, but you two have a verbal agreement.

You had already begun to feel some sort of loyalty to the yakuza lord, and maybe that was because you knew he wouldn’t take seeing Hiromi’s hand on you lightly.

Still, you reminded yourself that your professor hadn’t done anything wrong yet. The hand on your back could be seen as a supportive touch. Perhaps he didn’t know how he was coming off right now.

“No, I was going to use the rest of today to write a paper for my economics class,” you say finally after a beat of silence.

“Aren’t you such a good student? Are you struggling in any of your classes?” he asked as he reached out and opened up the door for you. Your eyes blinked as you had to adjust to the afternoon sun beating down.

Maybe he was just walking with you out towards the parking lot. You quirked an eyebrow as you realized this was the staff parking lot though. Your dorm was in the complete opposite direction.

“Uh.. well, not really..” you replied sheepishly, trying to soothe your nerves. This just kept getting worse and worse by the second. “My lowest grade this semester is copyright law.”

“Mmph, yeah, that one is unnecessary tedious. You’ll rarely work on cases of copyright infringement,” Hiromi nodded thoughtfully. “Listen, I know it’s easy to get caught up with being a law student, so I was wanting to know if you wanted to grab a bite to eat together. We can chat about whatever you want whether it be about school or—“

A loud roar of an engine and tires squealing into the parking lot completely cut Hiromi off. You instinctively jumped back a little out of fear that the car was going to ram right into you.

A car that didn’t even look like it belonged on regular civilian streets came to halt right in front of where you and Hiromi were standing. The engine purred lowly as it sat idly in the parking lot.

Hiromi furrowed his eyebrows as he stared at the car. No professor had the money to afford a Maserati GT2 Stradale.

Your eyes admired the car in front of you. In all of your time of living, you had never had the luxury of seeing such a car. It was completely blacked out, but in the direct sun, a subtle deep red tint shined through. It was flip painted. It was your saving grace — your prince charming. The license plate on the front read, R. SUKUNA.

The butterfly car door opened upwards, and you held your breath. You had never been more happy to see Sukuna in your life, yet you also felt confused. How did he get into the staff parking lot..? It was guarded by security.

Slowly, your future husband stepped out of the car, rolling up the sleeves to his black button-up top. Even while you were outside, Sukuna’s dominating presence filled the air.

“Can I help you, sir?” Higuruma asked, his face hardening at Sukuna. You wondered what he must be thinking about all this. Did Hiromi know about Sukuna’s status? He is a defense attorney, so it’s not completely out of the realm of possibility.

“No, but she can,” Sukuna gave a feline grin as he held out his hand and curled his finger towards himself, beckoning for you to come with him.

You took a deep breath, knowing that you really couldn’t refuse Sukuna. Also, you didn’t want to know what getting dinner with Hiromi would lead to.

“Ah, I’m sorry. Maybe a rain check?” you said as you gave a polite smile up towards your professor. His eyebrows furrowed, mouth slightly agape as he looked down at you.

As soon as you went to peel yourself from his side, Higuruma suddenly grasped your arm. It wasn’t enough to hurt you, but it was firm enough to stop you dead in your tracks.

“You can tell me if you don’t feel safe with him. You can give me some sort of nonverbal cue..” his voice was low enough for only you to hear. You were briefly taken aback by Hiromi’s kindness, but you also found it ironic how you felt less safe when it was just you and him.

“I’m fine.”

Sukuna watched interaction, and he cocked an eyebrow. He felt an unfamiliar tight feeling in his chest. The thought of him untucking his gun from where it was concealed in his waistband crossed his mind briefly, but he decided against it quickly. It would cause too much of a scene. Too many variables.

“Hiromi Higuruma, is it?” Sukuna asked, but he already knew the answer. “The famous criminal defense attorney who spends his free time teaching other future aspiring attorneys. How kind of you.”

“That’s me. I’ll ask again. Can I help you?” Hiromi’s hand hadn’t unwrapped from your arm yet. His jaw was tight as his dark eyes looked at Sukuna with suspicion.

“You can start by letting go of my wife.” Sukuna said as he took a step closer. His hands were shoved in his pockets, giving off a confident display. You could see the curvature of his muscles bulging through his shirt as if he didn’t already look big enough.

Hiromi’s eyes slightly widened as he looked down at you. All of the admiration and praise had melted from his gaze. You felt your heart drop to your stomach. It was as if you had disappointed him in some form or capacity.

He silently let go of your arm, conceding in the battle with Sukuna over you. “Nonverbal cue,” he muttered to you, still cautious that you’re maybe being forced to do this.

Little does he know, you’re the one who proposed marriage to Sukuna.

You walked straight towards Sukuna, not daring to look back at Hiromi as you didn’t think you could handle the look on his face.

Sukuna immediately enveloped your smaller body in his arms, giving you a hug that could only be described as a hug that a husband gives his wife. He had to lean down to fully hold onto you. You shivered as his nose and lips just barely brushed against the crook of your neck.

Your arms could barely wrap around him, hugging him back to fulfill the facade of being a happy wife. Your face was tucked into his chest, and his cologne assaulted your nose. His scent was deep and heavy with notes of cedar wood, leather, and tobacco.

Despite this being a facade, it felt safe and secure. Nothing could touch you right now.

In all of his time of working with accused criminals, Hiromi had never felt true fear until Sukuna’s eyes met his while he looked over your shoulder. He could practically see the red hues of Sukuna’s eyes darken as he stared him down. Hiromi could feel Sukuna marking you as his territory. It felt like time stood still for everyone.

“Let’s go, sweetheart. I have reservations for us,” Sukuna’s dark gravely voice broke the silence, and Hiromi watched as Sukuna placed his hand on your hip, guiding you over to the passenger side seat. He opened the door for you and made sure you were settled before shutting you in.

Sukuna shot one last glare in Hiromi’s direction before he got into the driver’s side and sped off.

Hiromi let out a deep sigh. How did such a pretty young student like you get caught up in this? His fingers came up, and he pinched the bridge of his nose as he pulled out his cellphone. He had to report this, even if it put you as risk.

It took several rings for the phone to pick up. “Yeah?”

“Gojo? Sukuna was just at the school. He was heading north.”

The other end of the line promptly went dead.

Taglist: @theuniversesnepobaby @lizatonix @starmapz @everywonuu @totallygyomeiswife @sukubusss @depressiondiaries @t4naiis @hishearttohave @soraya-daydreams @lulunx @s-1-xx @el-lise @prettyngeto @marifujioka @iheartlinds @gina239 @actuallynarii @shxyxyxxxx @krispycreamepie @emoedgylord @nina-from-317 @pandabiene5115 @paintedperidot @dissociativewriter @lmaoshush @ninani-nanina @sadrna @boisenberry77 @tojifush @erwinawesomeness @meanwhilesomewhereelse @safasz @kassfunk19 @moncher-ire @gradmacoco @riahlynn-102 @diduzzula @juiceeypeach

[arkaiveofurown]

he was harsh to you

Pairings: Crocodile x Reader, Ace x Reader, Law x Reader, Mihawk x Reader

Word Count: ~1,000 - 2,000 words each

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff

my masterlist here ♡

----

Crocodile

The tension between you and Crocodile had been building for days. He had been aloof, and his sharp, biting remarks were starting to wear on you. It wasn’t like you couldn’t handle his bluntness—hell, you were used to it by now—but today, it felt different. It felt personal.

You had just come from a successful mission for the Cross Guild, but the celebration was overshadowed by Crocodile’s attitude. You were standing near the map room, reviewing your next move, when he stormed in with that familiar scowl on his face.

“Don’t you have something better to do than stand around wasting time?” Crocodile snapped, his tone cold and dismissive. “I don’t need a babysitter. Get your act together.”

You felt your blood boil at his words. “Excuse me?” you shot back, unable to hide the irritation in your voice. “I’m doing my job just fine, thank you very much. Maybe you should stop trying to belittle everyone around you.”

Crocodile’s eyes narrowed, his gaze sharpening as he stepped closer. “Belittle? I’m trying to get through to you. You’re so damn distracted, it’s pathetic. You’re wasting your potential.”

“Wasting my potential?” You clenched your fists, holding back the sting of his words. “How about you stop trying to micromanage everyone around here? I’m getting things done, but you just don’t want to see it, do you?”

“Getting things done?” Crocodile scoffed, walking over to the table and slamming his hand on the map. “You’re dragging your feet. We’ve got a Guild to build, and you’re too busy pretending everything’s fine. If you think this is going anywhere, you’re living in a fantasy.”

His words stung more than you cared to admit. “I’m not pretending anything. I’m doing exactly what needs to be done. But if you think I’m just here to be your damn soldier, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Crocodile’s eyes flashed with something darker. “Soldier? Don’t flatter yourself. You’re part of the team—if you can manage to act like it. But from what I’m seeing, you’re more of a liability than an asset.”

You felt your chest tighten at his words, the anger bubbling up in your throat. “A liability? I’ve been working harder than anyone on this ship, and you can’t even see it. Maybe it’s easier for you to blame everyone else for your own failures.”

He leaned in, his voice dropping low. “What failure? I’m not the one who’s failing here. It’s you, with all your whining, trying to act like this is a charity. This is a Guild, not a damn playground.”

You could feel the heat rising in your face, but you stood your ground. “You’re impossible. You always think you’re right and that the world revolves around you. Maybe you need to take a long look in the mirror and realize that you’re the one who’s out of line.”

Crocodile didn’t flinch. “I don’t need to explain myself to you. You either get in line or get out of my way.”

That was the breaking point. You took a deep breath, fighting back the urge to lash out. “I’m done with this,” you said, your voice shaking with frustration. Without another word, you turned and stormed out of the room, the slam of the door echoing in your wake.

----

The silence in the ship’s quarters felt suffocating. Crocodile’s harsh words echoed in your mind, replaying over and over, and the weight of the argument was crushing. You hadn’t expected it to escalate like that, but there was no denying it now—you were hurt, and you couldn’t pretend otherwise.

You hadn’t bothered to leave your room, locked in your thoughts, lying on the bed with your back to the door. The sting of Crocodile’s words felt like a constant pressure on your chest. You’d been part of the Cross Guild for so long, fought alongside the others, but why did it feel like Crocodile just saw you as a tool? A tool that he could discard when it suited him.

You hated the feeling of weakness that crept in with the tears you’d been trying to hold back. But when it all became too much, they finally fell. Quietly at first, then in desperate, broken sobs.

You hadn’t realized how much you needed to cry until you did.

Hours passed, and you thought you’d hear the sounds of Crocodile’s usual cold demeanor at your door. But it never came. No knock, no footsteps—nothing.

You sat up from your bed, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. Crocodile might not have said anything more, but his absence was almost worse. It felt like he didn’t care enough to even check if you were okay.

----

The next day, things were still quiet between you and Crocodile. He wasn’t avoiding you, but he wasn’t making any overt moves either. The silence felt heavy, like there was more left unsaid, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to approach him first.

It wasn’t until you were sitting alone in the ship’s main hall, watching the crew go about their usual duties, that you saw him again. He was standing near the door, scanning the room as though he was looking for something—or someone. His gaze fell on you, and for a moment, you thought about getting up and leaving.

But then, something unexpected happened.

He walked toward you, his steps deliberate, his usual air of command unmistakable. But there was no arrogance, no cold indifference. Instead, there was something almost… hesitant, as though he was unsure how to approach.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice lower than usual. Not demanding, but more… tentative.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. Crocodile sat down beside you, but there was a clear distance between you two. Still, he didn’t break the silence. Instead, his eyes flickered to the floor and back to you, unsure of how to even start.

“I’ve been thinking,” Crocodile began, his voice unusually soft. “I don’t do ‘soft’ well. I never have. I push people away because it’s easier than getting close. But with you… I shouldn’t have done that.”

You stayed quiet, listening. This wasn’t the Crocodile you were used to, and it threw you off. But you could hear the sincerity in his voice.

“I treated you like you were disposable. Like I could just push you aside because I don’t know how to handle emotions,” he continued, his words laced with the rare honesty he usually kept buried. “I’m not saying I can change overnight, but I… I can try. I can do better. For you.”

For a moment, the room felt too quiet, too heavy with the weight of his confession. You weren’t sure what to say, but you couldn’t deny the effort he was showing. It wasn’t just words. It was him trying—genuinely trying—to be someone better for you.

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness,” he added, his gaze meeting yours directly. “But if you’ll let me, I want to show you that I’m not just some heartless bastard.”

You exhaled slowly, feeling a strange mix of emotions—relief, confusion, and something else you couldn’t quite name. Crocodile wasn’t the type to offer grand gestures, but this... this was different.

He shifted in his seat, as if he was fighting the urge to stand up and walk away. His usual confidence was tempered by something more vulnerable, and it made the tension between you two feel palpable. Still, there was something unspoken in the air, something you both knew needed to be addressed.

After a moment, Crocodile pulled something from his pocket, a small, worn notebook. He placed it between you two with a rare hesitance, as though it was heavier than it appeared.

“I don’t usually carry things like this,” he started, his voice rough but not harsh. “But... I thought you might find it useful.” He tapped the notebook once. “It’s full of notes—things I’ve learned, strategies, things about our crew that could be useful. Not much, but it’s something I’ve kept for myself. Thought it might help you... since we’ve been working together.”

There was no flashy gesture, no grand promises—just this small act of vulnerability. Crocodile wasn’t one to share his notes or insights with just anyone, much less someone he had been pushing away. It was his way of showing he trusted you more than he had before.

You stared at it for a moment, processing what he’d done. It wasn’t grand, it wasn’t over-the-top, but it was honest. It was him offering something personal, a piece of his world that he didn’t usually share.

“I know I’m not great with words,” Crocodile continued, looking away, his usual guarded expression back in place. “But I can do this. I’ll show you I’m not just some cold bastard.”

You let the silence stretch between you as you reached for the notebook, running your fingers over the pages. It was simple, but it meant something—he was trying. And that was enough for now.

"Thank you," you said softly, glancing up at him. "This is... more than I expected."

His eyes flickered to yours for a moment, something unreadable in them. "It's just a start," he muttered, standing up. "I’ll keep trying. But you’ve got to meet me halfway, too."

You nodded, feeling a strange sense of relief. It wasn’t perfect, and there were no sweeping gestures, but this... this felt real. And that was a good place to begin.

---

Ace

The sun was setting on the horizon, casting golden hues across the ship. You and the rest of the Whitebeard Pirates were enjoying a rare moment of calm as the ship slowly drifted across the sea. The deck was lively with the crew, but you found yourself chatting with Thatch, who was always kind and welcoming.

The conversation was lighthearted, the two of you laughing over some silly story. But through the corner of your eye, you noticed Ace’s figure standing by the mast. His eyes were fixed on you and Thatch. You didn’t think much of it, assuming Ace was just being his usual quiet self. But then, you saw his expression—dark, his jaw clenched, fists tightly gripping the railing. His eyes narrowed as he watched you, and it felt like a cold gust had suddenly blown through the deck.

Before you could finish your conversation with Thatch, Ace stormed over. You barely registered his approach before he grabbed your wrist, pulling you away from Thatch.

“Hey! What the hell, Ace? What’s going on?” you said, trying to pull your arm from his grasp.

“Don’t hey me,” Ace snapped, his voice low and seething. He was angry, and it was obvious. “What the hell was that about?”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, confused. You looked back toward Thatch, who was watching the exchange, a slight frown on his face.

“Don’t play dumb,” Ace growled. “You’ve been all over Thatch today. Laughing, touching him, flirting like it’s some fucking game. What, am I not enough for you?”

Your heart dropped at his words. “Flirting? Ace, we were just talking. It’s nothing like that. You’re making it into something it’s not.”

“Really?” Ace scoffed, his eyes darkening. “Don’t act like I’m blind. I’ve been watching you. The way you’re acting with him, it’s obvious. You think I wouldn’t notice? You think I wouldn’t see it?”

You felt the heat rise in your chest. “Are you seriously accusing me of something right now? You’ve known Thatch for years, and now you’re acting like this over nothing?”

Ace’s grip tightened on your wrist, his face flushed with anger. “Nothing? You think this is nothing? You think I’m stupid? You’ve been laughing with him, leaning into him, all damn day! It’s like I’m invisible to you when he’s around!”

“Ace, calm down!” you snapped, pulling your arm from his grip. “You’re overreacting. This isn’t about Thatch! I’m not doing anything wrong!”

Ace stepped closer, his voice growing colder. “Don’t tell me to calm down. You don’t get it, do you? I’m standing here, and I’m watching you smile at him, touch him, like I don’t fucking matter. And what the hell am I supposed to think?”

You couldn’t believe it. “You’re acting insane. You know I love you, right? You’re my partner. But you can’t just jump to conclusions like this—this isn’t jealousy, this is possessiveness. It’s not fair to me.”

“I don’t give a damn what you call it,” Ace sneered, crossing his arms. “It’s not just a little joke anymore. It’s like you’re fucking ignoring me every time he shows up, and I’m tired of it.”

You clenched your fists, feeling your frustration boil over. “How many times do I have to tell you? You’re the one I want. Not him, not anyone else. I’m not some fucking flirt, I don’t need your jealousy getting in the way of everything. You’re acting like a child.”

“A child?” Ace barked out a laugh, the sound bitter and hollow. “Look at you. You’re so fucking perfect with everyone else. But when it comes to me, I’m the one left questioning if I even matter to you.”

“Ace, you’re being ridiculous!” you yelled, your anger flaring. “This isn’t how you should be acting. You’re pushing me away with this shit!”

“I don’t care if you think I’m ridiculous!” Ace shot back, his face turning red with fury. “I can’t fucking help it. It just hurts to see you giving attention to someone else when you’re supposed to be mine. What am I supposed to do with that? Just ignore it like you’re not doing anything wrong?”

Your chest tightened at his words, and you couldn’t even find a response. You stared at him in disbelief. The person you knew, the Ace you loved, wouldn’t talk to you like this. He wouldn’t accuse you, wouldn’t twist everything into something ugly. “I can’t believe you’re saying this to me,” you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief.

Ace ran a hand through his hair, his expression shifting from anger to frustration, but his tone was still harsh. “I’m just saying what I feel, alright? Maybe I should just stop caring. Maybe I should just let you do whatever the hell you want without giving a damn.”

You felt a sting in your heart at that, but you didn’t let him see it. “Fine. If that’s how you want to be, then go ahead. Push me away. Make me feel like I don’t matter. Do what you need to do.”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to tell you!” Ace snapped, his voice getting louder. “I’m just tired of feeling like I’m not enough for you! Like you don’t need me anymore!”

“Ace, stop acting like I’m the one who’s wrong here,” you said, stepping back from him. “This is about you—your insecurities. You need to figure this shit out before you start blaming me.”

“I don’t need your lectures right now,” Ace spat, his eyes wild with frustration. “I don’t need you to tell me I’m the one with a problem. You’re the one making me feel like this!”

The silence that followed was deafening. You could feel the tension between you two, thick as smoke. You didn’t know what to say anymore. His words hurt more than anything, and you could feel the emotional distance growing between you.

“Ace,” you began, your voice quieter now, though still edged with anger. “I’m not going to keep fighting with you like this. If you want to think that I’m the problem here, then fine. Do whatever you want. But I won’t be dragged down by your jealousy. I won’t.”

You turned to walk away, but Ace’s harsh voice stopped you. “Where the hell do you think you’re going? Don’t you dare walk away from me when I’m trying to make sense of this! Don’t pretend like you’re innocent in all of this!”

You didn’t stop. You kept walking, not giving him another glance. If he couldn’t see how much you loved him, if he couldn’t get over his own jealousy, there was nothing more you could say.

And in that moment, the distance between you and Ace felt wider than it ever had.

----

The moment Ace walked away, everything felt cold. You didn’t know how long you stood there, just staring at the spot where he had left you. Your hand was still aching from his grip, but it was the sting in your chest that hurt more. He didn’t trust you, and it felt like a punch to the gut.

You didn’t want to cry, but the tears started anyway. It wasn’t just that he’d been angry—it was the way he’d accused you, made you feel like you weren’t good enough for him. His words burned like fire in your mind, and they refused to go away. You rubbed your eyes furiously, wishing it would stop, but it didn’t.

You made your way below deck, avoiding anyone’s eyes. But even in the silence, the weight of Ace’s accusations pressed against your chest.

The sound of footsteps on the wooden floor interrupted your thoughts, but you didn’t look up.

“Ace…” you whispered, voice barely audible, as you heard him stand in front of you. His figure towered over you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. You wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come.

He stood there for a long moment before letting out a long sigh.

“I messed up.” His voice was quieter now, filled with regret.

You didn’t answer right away, the hurt still raw. He continued, as if to reassure you.

“I know I was harsh,” he said softly. “I don’t know why I reacted like that. I don’t… I don’t want to hurt you.”

You finally looked up, his face full of guilt. It wasn’t the same anger you had seen earlier, but it didn’t make it better.

“Ace, I don’t deserve that,” you said, your voice shaking. “You’ve been treating me like… like I’m the one doing something wrong. You don’t trust me.”

“I know,” Ace muttered. “I was jealous, and it made me stupid. I didn’t think. I just… acted.”

“You can’t just accuse me like that, Ace. I thought you knew me better than anyone.”

“I do,” he said quickly, kneeling in front of you. His voice cracked slightly. “I do know you. And I’m sorry. I… I don’t know why I overreacted like that. It’s just…” He paused, staring down at the floor, lost in thought. “I get scared sometimes, you know? That you’ll leave me. Or that I’m not good enough.”

His words were quieter now, as if speaking them made the weight of them hit him too.

You swallowed hard, still trying to hold yourself together. “It’s not about you not being good enough, Ace. But you made me feel like I was the problem.”

“I didn’t mean to do that. I promise. I don’t want to hurt you. I’ll make it right, I swear.”

He reached out then, carefully pulling you into a hug. His arms were warm around you, and despite everything, it felt like home.

“I’ll prove it to you,” Ace whispered against your ear. “Just... please don’t leave me.”

----

Later that evening, Ace approached you once again. He wasn’t going to let this slide with just words. This time, he was determined to show you how much you meant to him.

He found you on the deck, staring out at the sea. The sunset had painted the sky in shades of orange and pink. He hesitated for a moment, but then walked up to you, standing still for a few seconds before quietly sitting beside you.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said. About how I’ve treated you,” Ace started, his voice calm but serious. He wasn’t going to let this be a quick fix. He had to prove he was serious. “I was an idiot before.”

You didn’t respond right away, but you didn’t pull away either, so he took that as his sign to continue.

“You deserve better than me just saying ‘sorry,’” Ace continued, looking at you with those soft, apologetic eyes. “I want to show you, not just tell you.”

Without waiting for a response, Ace stood up and reached into his jacket, pulling out something small wrapped in cloth. He unwrapped it carefully, revealing a beautiful hand-carved wooden pendant—one shaped like a flame, a piece of his own soul carved into it. He placed it in your hand, his palm warm against yours.

“I made this for you,” Ace explained, his voice low. “It’s not much, but it’s a reminder. Every time you look at it, I want you to remember that I’m here. I’m trying to be better. For you.”

You stared at the pendant, surprised that Ace had gone this far. He wasn’t known for his sentimental side, and seeing him take the time to make something so personal was a first.

But that wasn’t all.

Ace lowered himself to one knee, taking your hands in his, his usual cocky grin gone, replaced by something deeper. “I’m not perfect. Hell, I’m far from it. But I’m gonna fight for you, every damn day, if it means showing you that you’re mine and that I don’t take you for granted.”

His eyes held sincerity, not just for a moment but for what felt like eternity. He wasn’t asking for immediate forgiveness; he was showing you that he understood the weight of what he’d done, and he was willing to carry that burden.

“I’ll be better. I’ll prove it to you, one step at a time,” Ace added, squeezing your hands gently. “I’m not gonna run from it. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

You felt the weight of his words settle between you, but it was the actions—the carving, the kneeling, the rawness of his apology—that made the difference.

And in that moment, something shifted. His effort wasn’t just in the words, but in the way he had approached everything differently. The care, the vulnerability, the openness—it was something you hadn’t seen from Ace in this way before.

“Thank you,” you whispered, finally meeting his gaze.

Ace’s face softened, and he pulled you into his arms gently. “I’ll never stop showing you, okay? I’ll never stop trying.”

You could feel the warmth of his embrace, but it was different now—sincere, unwavering, and full of effort. He wasn’t perfect, but this was the Ace you had always known, the one who, when he cared, gave everything he had.

“I know you won’t,” you murmured, resting your head against his chest, knowing that even in his flaws, Ace’s heart was real and his effort was exactly what you needed.

----

Law

You were in the medical bay, carefully organizing the supplies, running through the routine tasks that kept you busy and, for the moment, kept your mind off the chaos of being aboard the Polar Tang. The quiet buzz of the ship’s engine was a subtle backdrop, almost soothing, but it wasn’t long before Law entered, his heavy boots echoing in the small space.

“Are you seriously doing this now?” His voice cut through the silence like a blade.

You turned, surprised to see him standing there with his arms crossed, a frustrated look on his face. "What? I’m just getting the medical supplies organized," you said, trying to keep your tone neutral. You had been with him long enough to know when something was off, and you could feel the tension in the air.

Law didn’t even spare a glance at the supplies. Instead, his eyes were fixed on you, sharp as ever. “It’s a waste of time. Don’t you have something more important to do?”

You blinked, taken aback. “What’s wrong with organizing the medical supplies? We can’t afford to let things get disorganized—especially if someone gets hurt. You should know that.”

His lips curled into a sneer. “This again? All you ever seem to do is waste time in here. We have real problems going on, and here you are, playing nursemaid.”

Your chest tightened at his words, but you tried to stay calm. “I’m not just playing nursemaid, Law. This is a crucial part of the crew’s well-being. You might not see it, but when someone gets injured, we need everything in place.”

Law snorted, walking further into the room with no regard for the way his presence weighed on you. “You think I don’t know that? I’ve been the one patching up the crew for years. I don’t need some reminder of how ‘important’ this is.”

His eyes glinted with something cold, making you feel like you were the one being irrational. “And yet, every time I come in here, I see you fiddling with bandages and vials like it’s some hobby. Maybe if you spent more time actually being useful, we wouldn’t be in half the mess we’re in now.”

You felt a rush of heat flood your face, your patience wearing thin. “Useful? I’m always useful, Law! You’ve never seen me just sit around and do nothing. I’ve been with you through thick and thin. What the hell is your problem today?”

Law didn’t flinch, his gaze cold and hard. “You’ve been off lately, not getting your hands dirty, avoiding the real work. Every time I turn around, you’re in here with your head buried in paperwork or fiddling with stuff that doesn’t matter. Are you even trying to help anymore, or is this your way of slacking off?”

You felt your pulse quicken, the sharpness of his words stinging like a slap across the face. “You know what? I don’t need this right now. I’m trying to do my best, but I guess that’s never good enough for you, huh?” You crossed your arms, pushing back the feeling of betrayal that crept up your throat.

“I don’t need your excuses,” Law replied, his voice colder than before. “You know what this crew is like, and you know what’s at stake. The sooner you stop pretending like this is all a game, the better.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “I’m done here.”

With that, he turned and walked out, leaving you standing in the middle of the room, stunned. You stood there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened.

You sat alone in your room, staring at the wooden floorboards, your mind replaying the harsh words from earlier. His anger had caught you off guard, and it stung in ways you didn’t expect. You’d never seen him like that—so cold, so dismissive. What had you done wrong?

You hadn’t meant to upset him, not at all. You were only trying to help, to get through to him, but it seemed like he didn’t want to hear it. The more you thought about it, the more it hurt. Was this how he really saw you? Was everything you did so easily misinterpreted?

The tears came, slowly at first, then in a rush, spilling down your cheeks as the weight of the argument settled in. You wiped at your face, trying to push back the emotions, but it was useless. His words lingered in your chest, heavy and suffocating.

You felt small in that moment. Small and insignificant. He wasn’t the kind of man who wore his feelings openly, but you thought—no, you hoped—that maybe, just maybe, he’d let you in. Now, all you had were the fragments of a conversation that had broken everything apart.

You stood up abruptly, wiping your eyes and trying to pull yourself together. There was no point in crying, not now. But the silence in the room felt like a weight you couldn’t escape, and your heart ached in a way it never had before.

----

The next morning, the air between you and Law was thick with silence. It felt like a weight neither of you wanted to lift, but both of you knew it needed to be addressed.

You walked down the corridor of the ship, your mind replaying everything that had happened last night. His words, his cold tone, and how they made you feel—like an afterthought, like your feelings didn’t matter. You needed to shake it off, but it lingered.

As you neared the deck, you saw Law standing near the railing, staring out at the horizon. His usual composure was gone. There was something about the way he stood there—quiet, almost brooding—that made your chest tighten.

You stopped a few paces away, unsure whether you should approach or just walk by. But you didn't want this hanging over you any longer. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, and made your way toward him.

Law didn’t acknowledge you at first. His gaze remained on the horizon, but there was a noticeable shift in the air as you got closer.

“You were right to be angry last night,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. The words caught you off guard.

You blinked, surprised by his bluntness. “What do you mean?”

He exhaled slowly, his hands gripping the railing a little tighter. “I shouldn’t have said those things. I was out of line. I made you feel like your feelings didn’t matter, and I… I don’t want to make you feel that way again.”

There was no excuse, no deflection. He didn’t try to rationalize it. The rawness of his admission made something in your chest loosen.

“You fucked up,” you said, voice low but steady. “It wasn’t just about the words, it’s about how it made me feel. Like I wasn’t… important to you.”

“I know,” Law replied quietly, his voice carrying more regret than you had ever heard. “And I don’t want you to feel like that, not ever. I don’t want to make excuses… but I’ve been so caught up in my own shit that I couldn’t see what I was doing to you.”

You shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond. His words were hard to process, but there was something in them that felt different—something that wasn’t typical of Law.

He met your gaze, and for a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of the waves. “I won’t pretend I know how to do this right, but I will try. And I’ll show you through my actions, not just words.”

You hesitated, still feeling the weight of everything. “Actions? Like what?”

Law's gaze softened, and he stepped away from the railing, facing you fully. “Tonight… let’s take a break from the ship. No work. Just us. We can go somewhere quiet, somewhere we don’t have to worry about anything else. I’ll listen, I’ll be present. You deserve that, and I want to show you I can do better.”

The sincerity in his voice made you pause, the hesitation in your chest slowly melting away.

He didn’t need to explain it further; you could see the change in his expression, the way his eyes weren’t as guarded. The rawness of his apology spoke volumes, and his willingness to make an effort, to actually show you, made you feel something different—hope, maybe.

The night came, and as promised, Law took you somewhere away from the hustle of the ship. The moment felt intimate, unspoken, and just… peaceful. You didn’t have to say much; the quiet between you two now felt like understanding, not tension. No grand gestures. Just time spent together, away from the chaos, showing each other what words sometimes couldn’t express.

----

Mihawk

The moon hung high in the sky, casting its pale light across the castle grounds as the night stretched on. You stood near the balcony, overlooking the vast, quiet expanse of Kuraigana Island, trying to ease the tension that had been building between you and Mihawk for days. You didn’t understand it. He had always been quiet, always withdrawn, but this... this was different.

You had tried to speak to him earlier, but each time, he shut you down.

You walked up to him now, your voice breaking the silence of the night. “Mihawk,” you started softly, “we need to talk.”

Mihawk didn’t even look up from his sword. His posture was perfect, as always, but his eyes were distant. “I’m not in the mood for a conversation.”

Your stomach twisted. “You’ve been like this for days. I don’t even know what’s going on with you anymore.”

“I told you, nothing is wrong.” Mihawk’s tone was clipped, cold.

You stepped closer, frustration rising. “That’s not true. You’ve been shutting me out. You barely say anything when I’m around. It’s like you don’t even want me here.”

He sighed, setting the sword down on the stone table, the movement deliberate, almost as though he was choosing his next words with care. “I’ve been thinking.”

You crossed your arms, taking a step toward him. “About?”

Mihawk’s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze dark and contemplative. “About this whole… situation.” He gestured vaguely toward the castle, as if the whole life they led was part of the problem. “About us.”

You frowned, stepping closer still. “Us?”

He hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with where this conversation was headed, but he kept going. “I’m not the kind of person who… needs company. I don’t need someone hovering over me, asking questions all the time.”

Your chest tightened, and you could feel the sting of those words more than you cared to admit. You’d always known Mihawk was a man of few words, but hearing him say it like this hit harder than expected. “So, what? You’re saying I’m annoying?”

Mihawk’s gaze flickered briefly to your face before he looked away, uncomfortable. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean, Mihawk?” you pressed, trying to keep your voice steady. “Because that sure as hell sounds like you’re pushing me away.”

He stood up straighter, his eyes hardening for a moment, but there was a flicker of something beneath the surface—something raw, something almost vulnerable. “I’m not pushing you away,” he muttered, though the words sounded like they were meant more for himself than for you. “I just… don’t know how to let people in.”

You stepped back, a sharp breath leaving your lips. His words were a dagger in your chest. “You don’t have to be perfect, Mihawk. But this… this is just too much.”

His face hardened again, the vulnerability disappearing behind that familiar, cold mask. “I didn’t ask for your sympathy.”

You recoiled, shaking your head. “It’s not sympathy, Mihawk. I’m trying to be here for you, but you won’t let me. You keep pushing me away.”

There was a long silence between you, the kind that stretched out too long, too thick to ignore. Mihawk stared at the floor, visibly struggling with something you couldn’t quite understand.

Finally, he sighed, his voice barely a whisper. “Maybe I’m better off alone.”

Your heart shattered with those words. The finality of them, the coldness, the impossibility of it, made it harder to breathe. You turned quickly, not wanting him to see the sting of his words on your face.

Without another word, you walked off, your steps heavy and purposeful.

----

You didn’t wait for him to speak. You didn’t need to. Mihawk’s words hung in the air like a heavy fog, suffocating everything between you. “Maybe I’m better off alone.”

You walked away before the sting of his words could settle, the sharp edge of them cutting through your chest. You didn’t care that he was still standing there, staring after you.

Your feet took you to your room in the castle, but even as you closed the door behind you, the world outside seemed to close in. You sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at your hands, trying to push the burn behind your eyes. But it was useless. The tears came, slow at first, then faster. You pressed your palms against your face, desperate to stop them, but they kept coming.

Why? Why did he say that?

Your heart ached, and you couldn’t figure out what hurt more—the words themselves or the realization that he didn’t want you around. Mihawk. The man who had kept everyone at a distance. The one who had never once asked for anything. And you—you—had thought maybe you could be the one person to change that. But you were wrong.

----

Meanwhile, Mihawk sat in his study, his mind tangled in his own thoughts. He stared out at the night sky, trying to drown out the regret gnawing at him. What have I done?

He had never been good with people, never good with emotions. I didn’t mean it. She shouldn’t have to feel like that.

His words had come out too easily, without thinking. He had pushed you away when all you had done was show him care, patience... love.

He let out a frustrated breath, the weight of his mistake pressing harder on him. She doesn’t deserve this.

He rose from his seat, walking to the window, gripping the ledge with clenched fists. What now? He had always been alone, but the thought of you not being there, of losing what little connection he had with you, hurt more than he could admit. He wasn’t sure how to fix it. He never knew how to fix things.

She’s not going to forgive me easily, is she? He sighed, the silence in the air heavier than the night sky before him. I have to make this right... somehow.

----

The following morning, Mihawk woke with a single thought in mind. He couldn’t stand the tension, the silence between you two. The words from the night before echoed in his head, but now all he could focus on was the idea of making things right.

You were still distant, and he knew he couldn’t just speak his way out of it. He had to show you, to prove that he cared, even if he had never learned how to express it properly.

He moved to the kitchen of his castle early that morning, preparing a quiet breakfast, his hands methodical as he selected fresh ingredients from his garden. He was no stranger to cooking—having lived alone for so many years meant he’d developed the skill, even if he didn’t often share it with anyone. But this time, it wasn’t about the food. It was about showing you, in his own way, that he didn’t want to lose you.

Mihawk worked in silence, chopping vegetables and herbs, carefully preparing a dish that, though simple, was made with genuine effort. He took his time—something rare for him, but he knew it was necessary.

Once everything was ready, he set the table, the soft clink of porcelain and silverware the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.

After a long moment, he took a breath, walked down the hall, and knocked on your door.

“Y/N,” Mihawk’s voice was quieter than usual, almost tentative. “I’ve made something. For you.”

You were sitting at the small desk by the window when you heard him. You turned slowly, your expression unreadable, and saw him standing there with a plate of food in his hands.

For a moment, there was silence between you, and Mihawk seemed to hesitate, unsure how to approach you. Then, finally, he stepped forward, setting the plate down on the small table beside you.

“I... I don’t know if this is what you wanted, but it’s what I could do,” Mihawk said, his voice steady but softer than usual. “I’m not good with words, but I wanted to show you I’m sorry.”

You stared at the plate for a moment, then back at him. You could see the subtle shift in his demeanor—his posture was less rigid, his expression more vulnerable than you’d ever seen before. You hadn’t expected this. He was never one to cook, and yet, here he was—offering you something he had prepared himself.

Tentatively, you reached for the fork, your fingers brushing against his as you took a bite. The taste was simple—fresh vegetables, some herbs—but it was good. Better than you expected, considering Mihawk's usual reliance on swords rather than culinary skills.

“It’s... really good,” you said softly, your gaze lifting to meet his.

Mihawk’s features softened, and for the first time, a small smile played at the corners of his lips. “I wanted to do something... something more than just apologizing. Words aren’t enough.”

You set the fork down, your hand resting on the table between you. “Mihawk,” you began, your voice barely a whisper, “I know you don’t always know how to show it. But you don’t have to shut me out. I just... I want to be here for you.”

Mihawk stood still for a moment, looking at you, taking in your words. It wasn’t easy for him to admit his feelings, but here, now, in the quiet of his castle, he finally let his guard down, even if just a little.

“I... don’t know how to do this,” he said slowly, his voice low. “But I don’t want to lose you. Not like this.”

You smiled, reaching out to touch his hand gently. “You don’t have to be perfect. Just be honest with me. That’s all I want.”

For the first time, Mihawk let out a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing as he sat down beside you. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes.

“I will,” Mihawk said, his voice steady now. “I will try, Y/N. I’ll try harder.”

And in that quiet moment, surrounded by the warmth of a simple meal and the weight of unspoken promises, you both knew that this was just the beginning—Mihawk, for the first time, letting someone in, and you, ready to stay by his side, no matter how hard the journey ahead might be.

[slut-for-slutty-fictional-men]

saw you were looking for requests!!

ive been thinking of how lando would be sooo gentle with a reader who hasnt ever been loved properly like he would absolutely spoil her till the end of the world even if she refused

like he'd get her favorite flowers and take photos of her all the time and tell her he loves her 24/7

omg yes, I love this! He would be so sweet and caring without even thinking about it! I wrote this pretty quick, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out.

Like You Deserve

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Soft Romance Warnings: Mentions of past emotional neglect, low self-worth, crying, healthy relationship dynamics, tooth-rotting fluff Word Count: ~1200 Summary: You’ve never been loved like this. Not gently. Not completely. Not without strings or apologies. But Lando? Lando loves you like it’s the easiest thing in the world — and slowly, impossibly, you begin to let him.

Masterlist

The first time you cried in front of Lando, it was over something stupid.

At least, that’s what you told him.

It had been a long day. One of those heavy, dragging ones where everything feels just slightly off. You got the wrong coffee order. Your boss snapped at you. Someone bumped into you on the train and didn’t say sorry. Nothing huge, nothing tragic — just little paper cuts you’d bled from quietly.

And then you got home, and there they were.

Peonies. Your favorite.

A bouquet in your favorite color, sitting in a glass vase on the kitchen counter. No note. No announcement. Just waiting.

You stared at them like they might disappear if you blinked.

And when Lando came in from the other room — curls damp from a shower, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows — and smiled at you like you mattered, you burst into tears.

He crossed the room in seconds. “Hey—hey, love, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head. Covered your face. You didn’t want him to see. You didn’t want to ruin the moment. You didn’t want to need this as badly as you did.

But he didn’t get frustrated. He didn’t sigh, or say you were being dramatic, or ask if you were hormonal.

He just wrapped his arms around you, warm and firm, and said softly:

“I’ll get you flowers every day if it means you cry like this less.”

You laughed — wet and broken — into his chest.

You’d never been loved like this before.

Not gently.

Not without earning it first.

You try not to talk about your past much. It’s messy. It makes people uncomfortable.

But Lando notices things.

He notices how you flinch a little when he raises his voice — even if it’s just from laughing too loudly.

He notices how you apologize three times for interrupting him, even when you didn’t.

He notices how you never ask him for help, even when you’re clearly overwhelmed.

And worst of all, he notices how surprised you look every time he does something thoughtful.

“Stop acting like I brought you the moon,” he says once, when you gasp at the takeout he brought after your long shift.

You smile tightly. “Sorry. I’m just not used to this.”

“To being fed?”

“To being… seen.”

He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t look away.

Instead, he cups your jaw, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “Then get used to it, love. ‘Cause I’m not going anywhere.”

He starts taking photos of you when you’re not looking.

You notice it one morning, scrolling through his phone while he’s in the shower. A whole album labeled with your initials — filled with candids.

You sipping coffee on the balcony. You in one of his hoodies, asleep on the couch. You laughing at something off-camera, head thrown back, eyes bright.

You look beautiful in all of them.

You don't recognize yourself.

When he comes back in, towel around his shoulders, he sees you looking.

Your voice is small. “You keep pictures of me?”

Lando blinks, confused. “Course I do.”

You set the phone down like it might burn you. “I just… no one’s ever done that before.”

He crosses the room. Presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Then they were idiots.”

One night, weeks later, you break.

Not in the loud, dramatic way. Not like glass shattering. More like a hairline crack that finally gives way under pressure.

You’re lying in bed, curled into his side, his fingers playing absentmindedly with yours. Everything should feel perfect. Safe.

And still, you ask:

“Why do you love me?”

Lando’s hand stills.

You almost wish you could swallow the question back down. But it’s out there now. Ugly and trembling and raw.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “Forget I said anything.”

“No,” he says, firm. “Don’t do that.”

You can’t look at him. “I just don’t get it. I’m a mess. I’m anxious. I second-guess everything. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be—”

“Stop.”

His voice is low, but not angry. Just steady.

He tilts your chin so you have to meet his eyes.

“I don’t love you in spite of those things. I love you because of who you are.”

You blink, throat tight.

“I love that you care too much. That you remember the name of every mechanic on my team. That you leave me little notes when I travel. That you’re still soft after everything life’s thrown at you.” He swallows. “I love you. Full stop. No conditions. No fine print.”

You’re crying again.

This time, you don’t try to hide it.

And when he kisses you, slow and reverent, you let yourself believe — just for a second — that maybe you’re not too hard to love after all.

You stop apologizing so much.

You start texting him first.

You let him buy you flowers without flinching.

You even let him take a photo of you on your bad hair day, after whining for a full ten minutes about how awful you look.

(He posts it anyway — captioned, “Cutest human alive, don’t fight me.”)

And when he tells you he loves you — casually, easily, every day — you finally start saying it back without fear.

Because he never makes you earn it.

Because he says it like it’s your name.

Because he means it.

Later that night, you’re tucked into the passenger seat of Lando’s car, the city lights flickering past like fireflies. His hoodie swallows you whole — sleeves too long, hood up, wrapped around you like a second skin — and your legs are folded beneath you, socked toes pressed to the leather seat.

The radio’s playing softly. Something nostalgic. His hand finds yours without looking.

He does that now — reaches for you without needing to think.

And you let him.

Your fingers settle into the spaces between his, perfectly matched. His thumb rubs gently across your knuckles, slow and soothing. You watch the motion like it might slip away if you blink.

“I think I’m starting to believe you,” you say after a long stretch of silence.

His eyes flick to you, quick and warm. “Believe what?”

“That you love me.”

The smile that blooms across his face isn’t wide or showy. It’s quiet. Soft. Reverent, almost. Like he’s been waiting to hear that from you.

“I’ve never said anything truer,” he murmurs.

You turn your head, studying him in the warm dashboard glow. One hand on the wheel. One hand in yours. The same boy who brings you flowers without a reason. Who kisses your shoulder in passing. Who sees you.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you whisper, voice barely a breath.

Lando squeezes your hand. “You don’t have to do anything, love. You deserve it just by being you.”

You blink fast, throat catching. He doesn’t look away.

“Let me keep showing you, yeah?”

You nod, heart thudding hard. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in your entire life, you believe it.

A/N: i really loved writing this, felt very healing (I need therapy lmao) anyways please send me requests! I love reading yall's ideas! also feel free to ask me any questions if you want hehe :)

[kxsagi]

may I ask for blue lock characters headcanons on how they would propose to the reader if they have been together for more than 5 years? you can add anyone you like but this is for my one and only glorious supreme king isagi yoichi.

THANK YOU

“𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧”

a/n: i might like writing proposals more than fluff (i also have an isagi proposal fic i wrote here and i still love it sm)

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, bachira meguru, kaiser michael, mikage reo, nagi seishiro

isagi yoichi

he’s been thinking about it for months. writing drafts in his notes app. texting rin for help and getting roasted. pacing the training room during breaks muttering, “what if she says no?” even though you’ve been his person for five whole years. 

when he finally does it, it’s quiet. domestic. intimate. just you and him on a sunday morning. he makes you breakfast with heart-shaped pancakes (they’re wonky, but endearing), and insists you stay in bed. when he brings the tray over, there’s a little folded napkin next to your juice. you open it and it reads: “marry me?” in his handwriting, complete with a nervous smiley face. 

you look up and he’s on one knee holding a ring with trembling hands, eyes glassy, voice cracking when he says, “i want to be with you forever. through every win, every loss. just… us.” 

he fumbles the ring, panics, catches it mid-air. cries when you say yes. you end up lying on the floor laughing with him, tangled in blankets and feelings. 

won’t shut up about how he bagged the love of his life. reposts his own engagement post three times. 

itoshi rin

takes 7 business days to say “i love you,” so proposing is the olympics of stress for him. 

he keeps the ring in his pocket for weeks. but every time he tries to do it, something throws him off. you burp mid-dinner. you wear his hoodie. you beat him at mario kart. it’s too much. he short circuits. 

finally proposes when you’re brushing your teeth together at night, and he’s looking at your face in the mirror like, this is it. this is what peace feels like. 

mutters, “marry me,” like he’s asking if you want takeout. then freezes. stares at your reflection. 

when you ask, “wait, for real?” he just nods and pulls out the ring from his hoodie pocket. he’s literally shaking. 

later pretends he had a whole speech of “i know i’m not good with words. but being with you makes life feel… less heavy. you make things better. you make me better. so please stay with me. forever,” but forgot it. he did not say that. he ended up saying: “u cool. marry me.” 

itoshi sae

it takes him years to admit he wants to marry you. not because he doubts it (he's known since day two), but because he's scared. terrified, even. of needing someone that deeply. of showing that part of himself. 

he doesn’t want something loud or flashy. instead, he books a quiet trip to a secluded coastal town in spain. it’s the off-season, the weather's breezy, and you spend the whole day exploring sleepy streets, eating gelato, watching the boats drift lazily in the harbor. 

at the end of the day, he takes you to a rocky overlook at sunset. the water’s glowing. the sky is all peach and gold. 

and then he hands you a little notebook. every page is dated. he’s been writing you letters for five years. 

entries from after matches, on planes, in hotel rooms. thoughts he never said out loud. memories. fears. the way his chest tightens every time he looks at you. how your laugh sounds when you’re brushing your teeth. how the world softens when you're near. 

the final page just says: “i don’t want to be brilliant without you. will you marry me?” 

you look up and he’s already kneeling, lips pressed into a line like he’s holding back a million emotions. 

“i know i’m difficult. i know i get quiet. but you’re the one thing i’m sure of. please say yes.” 

and when you do, his hands shake. his breath catches. he presses his forehead to yours, and for the first time in a long time, sae itoshi lets himself cry. 

you whisper something like “i love you, dummy,” and he laughs softly, the kind of laugh he saves just for you. 

he doesn’t post it. doesn’t tell the world. 

but at the next press conference, a reporter asks about the ring “so pretty it makes influencers cry” spotted on your finger by fans inspecting recent paparazzi pics of you. 

he just smirks and says, “guess i won something better than a trophy.” 

bachira meguru

his proposal is a chaotic masterpiece. it starts with you waking up to a crayon-drawn treasure map taped to your forehead. yes. your forehead. 

he’s turned your entire city into a love quest, each stop filled with inside jokes, goofy gifts, and memories from your relationship: your favorite boba place (the cashier gives you a note), the alley you once slow-danced in (there’s a heart chalk drawing), the bench where you first kissed (a polaroid taped under it). 

the final clue brings you to the soccer field where he first told you he loved you. it’s covered in fairy lights and handmade decorations (and probably a few fire hazards). he’s waiting at the center in a suit covered in paint splatters because “i wanted to look fancy and like me.” 

he runs up to you with a goofy grin, gets down on one knee, and says: “you’ve always been my favorite teammate. wanna play life together?” 

you say yes and he tackles you into the grass. you're both crying and laughing and covered in glitter somehow. he puts the ring on your toe as a joke first. classic bachira. 

kaiser michael

obnoxiously extravagant. skywriting? rented out a soccer stadium? flash mob in berlin? absolutely. 

but here's the twist: he plays it down. tells you you’re going to a “boring sponsor event.” 

when you get there, it’s pitch black… then boom. lights, camera, roses in the shape of your name, string quartet playing a romantic song, and kaiser walking toward you in a tux. 

"everyone knows i’m great. but being with you? that’s the only thing that ever made me better." 

drops to one knee like he’s on the cover of GQ proposals edition. the ring is a custom design with your birthstone and an engraving that says “you win. i surrender.” 

when you say yes, he kisses you so obnoxiously dramatically that the quartet messes up their notes. 

later posts a selfie of you two mid-kiss with the caption “#ringed 💍 #shewonfr.” comments on his own post: “undefeated.” 

mikage reo

reo has had the ring for eight months. he’s shown it to nagi. to his driver. to the chef. to his tailor. hell, he’s almost asked you during brunch three different times but chickened out because “no, it has to be perfect. 

so, he builds perfect. 

he rents out an entire rooftop in tokyo, overlooking the skyline where you both made so many memories together. he has a custom-built garden placed on the deck with flowers flown in from your childhood town. your favorite piano music plays softly in the background, courtesy of a live quartet. the air smells like your favorite scent. 

there’s no crowd, no press, no flashy headlines, just you and him, dressed in your finest, alone at a candlelit table under the stars. 

after dinner, he leads you through a string-lit walkway where framed photos from your relationship hang like a timeline: your first trip. your first christmas. your matching sweaters disaster. the moment he realized you were it. 

at the end, he stops, takes both your hands, and says with a nervous, reverent breath: “i’ve had access to everything: money, power, comfort. but nothing ever came close to what it felt like holding your hand for the first time.” 

he kneels. his voice wavers, but his heart doesn’t. “i don’t want a future if you’re not in it. will you marry me?” 

your “yes” comes with tears, kisses, and a full dip spin because reo is dramatic and romantic and very in love. 

later, when he twirls you around to slow music, he whispers: “you made me believe in forever.” 

(he doesn't even post it on social media. the moment is too sacred. but nagi leaks it by accident with a story captioned “finally. he shut up about it.”) 

nagi seishiro

nagi never liked effort. until you. and for the first time in his life, he wants to try. for you. 

he doesn’t propose with a big event or a plan that reo drafted. instead, it happens on a normal day, a slow, rainy morning where you're both wrapped in blankets, watching old anime on the couch. 

you’re sitting on his lap. he's playing with your fingers, tracing your knuckles with soft, sleepy circles. 

out of nowhere, he mumbles, “you ever think about marriage?” 

you blink. “uh… yeah?” 

he nods like it’s no big deal. “cool. wanna marry me then?” 

you pause. “wait… what?” 

he stretches, yawns, then digs into the hoodie he’s been wearing for three days and pulls out a velvet ring box like it’s nothing. like he didn’t practice this moment in front of the mirror at 3 AM while trying not to wake you. 

“got a ring and everything. it’s comfy. like you.” 

you’re crying and laughing and he just stares at you with those tired eyes that hide galaxies of devotion. “been with you so long it’s hard to imagine not being yours. don’t wanna try, honestly.” 

when you whisper yes, he finally smiles. a sleepy, bashful smile as he slips the ring on your finger. 

he kisses your cheek and hums, “cool… now i don’t have to stress about it anymore. let’s nap.” 

(he later uses the story to brag to reo: “took me five minutes. still beat you.”) 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[chronicowboy]

bet the house (watch it fall) | 1.2k

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been six months since my last confession," Eddie says, a perfect recital of the line he'd spent all morning in the bathroom rehearsing.

For a long moment, silence. Eddie has to fight the urge to check there's actually someone on the other side. Then —

"Eddie?" It's a familiar voice. One that has the tension seeping out of Eddie's shoulders all at once.

"Yeah," he breathes out. "Yeah, it's me."

"It's good to hear your voice again," Father Brian says, a hint of a smile in the words. "I wasn't sure I would."

"I wasn't sure either, but, uh." Eddie digs his left thumb into the middle of his right palm until flesh yields to bone. "I needed to talk to someone, and I wasn't sure who to go to."

Not true. Knew exactly who he'd go to. Bobby. But Bobby was gone. And Buck would have been his next choice, but Buck was hanging on by a thread, and Eddie wasn't going to be the one to break it. He'd just be the one to catch Buck when it finally snapped.

"You're always welcome here," Brian tells him, and Eddie has to squeeze his eyes shut against the tears.

"This was my captain's church, you know?" he rasps. "That's how I knew about it."

"Captain Nash."

"I, yeah. How did you —"

"He spoke about you a lot. Spoke about all his firefighters, but especially you and a... Buck?"

"Yeah." Eddie huffs a wet laugh. "That tracks." Wonders what exactly Bobby would say about him. Imagines he must have painted a pretty tragic picture.

"I was very sorry to hear of his passing. He was a good man. I find that's increasingly rare in the world right now."

"He was something else alright." Eddie takes a deep breath, gathers up all the grief and the guilt in the back of his throat. "I wasn't here when he died. I found out over the phone." His voice breaks, and Eddie takes a moment to gather himself. Father Brian lets him. "Buck told me. And, God, I've never heard him like that before."

Except that's not true, Eddie thinks. He's heard it once before. When Los Angeles was half-drowned, and Buck was dirty and bloody and soaking wet and shaking, and all he had left was Christopher's glasses.

"I moved back to Texas to be with my son," Eddie says suddenly. Can't linger in that memory for long. Not if he wants to make it out of the confessional.

"Ah, I see." Another smile creeping into his voice. There's something about the way he speaks that reminds Eddie so much of Bobby that he has to turn his thumb, so the nail digs a crescent moon into the soft flesh of his palm. "You followed your joy."

"Yeah." Eddie sighs, drags a hand down his face, laughs a broken noise. "Left a hell of a lot of it behind though." Holds his breath for a moment. "With Buck." Waits for God to smite him down.

Nothing.

"Well, you can only fit so much in a U-Haul," Brian says easily. It startles a laugh out of Eddie. A real one this time. Sharp but real. "I'm sure he took good care of it for you."

"He did," Eddie agrees, just as easily. Then averts course like a coward. "I'm just. Stuck. Now. I'm having a hard time getting myself back to Texas even though my kid's there."

He leaves out the part where Christopher keeps telling him he's not allowed to come back until he's sure Buck is okay. It feels too big for such a small space.

"And why do you think that is?"

"I wasn't here when my team needed me. I don't want to make that mistake again."

"Are you thinking about coming back?"

Eddie laughs again. Another empty thing.

"I've been thinking about coming back since I left. I just. I never thought it'd be like this. Because of this." He shakes his head. Doesn't bother fighting the tears this time. "I wanted coming home to be happy. That's the only reason Chris is still in Texas. I didn't want him coming home to another ghost."

"That makes sense," Brian says not unkindly. "But, Eddie, I have to say, it still sounds like you're denying yourself joy."

And there it is. That fucking word again. The one that's haunted him since the juice bar. Since Buck on his doorstep. Since Eddie flipped that goddamn tablet and it took his whole world with it.

"Maybe." Eddie shrugs. What right does he have to joy when Bobby's was taken from him so cruelly? "Bobby told me once. He said that I didn't have to lose everything before I allowed myself to feel something." Those words have been on his mind a lot lately. Every time he looks at Buck, and he wonders if Bobby had seen something Eddie had never been able to look too closely at. "I didn't know what he meant at the time."

"And now?"

"Now, I know I haven't quite lost everything, but I've lost a hell of a lot, and I don't want to have to lose anything else before I allow myself to feel joy." The words come out hoarse and hollow. Eddie thinks, in another world, he'd get to say this to Bobby. And he tries to imagine the smile he'd wear when Eddie said it. That thing so full of pride, so naturally paternal. It winds him a little.

"What does joy look like to you, Eddie?" Father Brian asks gently.

"Christopher." Eddie huffs a breath, looks up at Bobby wherever he may be. "Buck."

"Mm." Eddie glances at the partition, just for a second, catches Brian's smile as he ducks his head. He loses his breath a little, looks back to the doorway. "What are you gonna do about it?"

And that's the question. The one Eddie's been trying to answer since he left. Since before that maybe. Since a quiet, half-honest conversation in Buck's loft. The one he gave up for Eddie. Since the lightning strike. Since the shooting. Since the well. Since Evan Buckley.

"I've got joy right in front of me." He shrugs, smiles just slightly. "I'm not gonna walk away from it again."

"Alright then." The smile is unmistakable in Father Brian's voice now. The way Bobby's would be in the engine when he was trying to keep them all focused but, instead, found himself getting sucked in. "Your penance —" and Eddie supposed he should have expected it, bringing this into God's house, but he'd thought— "is one Hail Mary."

"Only one?" Eddie blinks. He looks back at the partition, finds Father Brian's warm eyes already there.

"Something tells me it's gonna be a big one," he murmurs. Eddie ducks his head to hide the flush of his cheeks. How terribly easy he must be to read. How many people must have read him cover to cover before Eddie could even bring it upon himself to open the fucking book. How inevitable it all seems now. It's Buck. Of course, it's Buck. "Good luck, Eddie."

[blueberrisdove-sideblog2]

Mydei always treats you like you're his princess—no matter where you are or who’s watching. To him, you're not just someone he loves; you're someone he cherishes, worships, and would go to war for without a second thought. Every time he looks at you, there’s this softness in his golden eyes that nobody else gets to see, like you're the only thing in the world that could ever matter. He opens doors for you, carries your things even when you insist you're strong enough, and always makes sure you’re warm, safe, and comfortable. You never have to ask twice—he’s already on it, already thinking two steps ahead, always treating you like the center of his world.

He watches you like you're made of stars and silk, like even the air should be gentle with you. Whenever you speak, he listens closely, even if you’re just rambling or talking about something silly. And if someone dares to laugh at you or treat you poorly, he doesn’t just get upset—he burns. That terrifying warrior everyone fears becomes your prince in blazing armor, glaring down anyone who even breathes wrong near you. But even with all that power, he’s gentle with you. Always. Like you're something sacred. Like he's scared to break you, even though he knows you're stronger than you look.

Every little thing he does screams devotion. He braids your hair with such care, smoothing the strands with his calloused fingers as if touching something precious. When you’re sad or overwhelmed, he doesn’t rush you to feel better. He just holds you close, pressing you against his bare chest, letting you hear the steady beat of his heart until you feel okay again. And when you’re happy? He lights up like the sun, proud of every smile you give him. He kisses your forehead like it’s a ritual, like he’s sealing a blessing into your skin. You don’t even have to ask him to love you—he just does, over and over, in a thousand quiet ways.

At night, he wraps you in his arms like a protective shield. His big frame curves around you. He murmurs soft things into your hair—how much he loves you, how you’ve changed his world, how he never knew what peace felt like until he had you in his arms. Sometimes he wakes you up just to make sure you're breathing, just to press his forehead against yours and whisper, “Mine. Always mine.” Even in his dreams, he’s holding onto you like he’s scared the world might try to take you away.

To Mydei, you're not just a lover or a partner. You're his entire reason for fighting, for breathing, for being. He sees the way the world looks at you and thinks they don’t even know how lucky they are to witness her. But he knows. And he’ll never take you for granted. In every kiss, every touch, every word, there’s a silent vow: You are my princess. And I will spend every day proving it.

[askoverkill]

Does Loop not get you have a blood curse?

transcript below:

How did you not realize I have the Blood Curse?

(Even Lupus noticed.)

Not realize- I don't know what that is???

...How do you NOT know about the Blood Curse?

Because I don't????? Why would I????

Have you been living under a rock this whole time?

I MEAN, YES??? I GUESS?

What???

I don't bother with the outer loops anymore, I spend it taking a break in the well.

So you hadn't heard about the Blood Curse. The Curse that half the world's population has?

…HALF. DID YOU JUST SAY HALF?!!?!

I thought the Theater Curse only effected Vaugarde???

Does it?

We don't get much word out of the country. On account of all the Curses and the end of the world.

I thought everyone was speaking metaphorically? The world is ending???

Loop, do you seriously not know anything that's been happening?

Blind it, this is all news to me, can you give a me a second to catch up?! it's all been the same! For every loop!

[arcadia-smith]

The fall

Hockey AU Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Pairing: Hockey Player! Simon Riley x Figure Skater! Reader

Summary: Simon had never been one for grand displays of affection, but when you take a nasty fall during your competition, he finds himself breaking his own rules.

Word count: 770

Warnings: none really, just a short fluffy blurb.

Simon had never been to one of your competitions before. Not because he didn’t want to—hell, he’d watch you tie your skates for hours if he could—but because your relationship had been under wraps. His career in the NHL, your growing success in figure skating… it had been easier to keep things quiet. But now, after months of secrecy, the world knew.

Simon sat in the stands, cap pulled low, arms crossed over his broad chest as he tried to ignore the cameras sneaking glances his way. His teammates had given him hell about coming—some teasing, some genuinely surprised he’d sit through something that wasn’t about smashing into people at high speeds.

Simon wasn’t nervous. Not in the way most people got. He’d taken hits from guys twice his size, had teeth knocked loose, and played through injuries that would put others out for weeks.

But this? Sitting in the stands of a figure skating competition? This had his shoulders tight. The rink wasn’t set up the way he was used to—no hard-checking, no boards rattling, no brutal speed or body slams. Just an expanse of smooth ice, twinkling under the bright lights, waiting for you.

The moment your name was announced, the restless energy inside him sharpened.

You skated onto the ice with effortless grace, your expression poised, focused, like you weren’t thinking about the thousands of eyes on you. Simon knew better. He knew how much pressure you put on yourself, how much work went into making something this difficult look effortless.

You caught his gaze as you moved to your starting position, and the briefest hint of a smile tugged at your lips.

Simon exhaled.

And then the music started.

You moved like water, fluid and controlled, your blades carving elegant arcs into the ice. He’d seen you practice a hundred times, had even let you teach him some of the simpler moves when you insisted he had the balance for it. (He didn’t, but he liked the excuse to let you get your hands on him.)

The crowd was quiet except for the soft crescendos of the music, and Simon found himself caught in the rhythm of your movements, the way your arms extended, the way you spun with impossible precision.

It happened fast.

One second, you were setting up for a jump. The next, your blade caught wrong, and instead of landing gracefully, you went down hard.

Simon was on his feet before he even registered moving. The sharp crack of your body hitting the ice sent a sickening jolt through him. The crowd collectively gasped, but Simon barely heard them over the blood rushing in his ears.

You didn’t get up right away.

His gut twisted.

Come on, love. Get up.

The medical team was already moving and Simon shoved past anyone in his way, his long strides eating the distance. By the time he reached the ice’s edge, you were pushing yourself up, wincing, cradling your wrist.

Relief crashed through him, so strong it almost made him dizzy.

“You alright?” His voice was gruff, louder than he meant. You blinked up at him, dazed but breathing.

“Simon?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. ‘M right here.”

The officials hesitated, unsure whether to let him any closer, but he didn’t give them a choice. His feet hit the ice without a second thought, and suddenly, the only thing that mattered was you.

You tried to shake it off, but he could see the way you were favoring your arm, how your expression was tighter than it should be.

“Can you stand?”

“I—I think so.”

“Let me help.”

And just like that, Simon Riley—cold, ruthless on the ice, known for brutal hits and not giving a damn about anyone in his way—was kneeling beside you, his hands gentle as they helped you up.

The crowd murmured, cameras flashing, but Simon didn’t give a shit.

All that mattered was that you were standing.

Your good hand tightened in his hoodie, and even through the fabric, he could feel your fingers trembling. “I—I didn’t finish.”

“Don’t care,” he murmured, voice low enough for only you to hear. “You did good, love.”

You swallowed, and for the first time since your fall, your lips twitched upward. “You’re making a scene.”

Simon scoffed. “Let ‘em stare.”

He slipped an arm around you, steadying you as you stepped off the ice together.

“Scared the bloody hell outta me.”

“You? Scared?”

“Terrified.” His hands slid over your waist, steady, grounding. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Maybe you hadn’t finished your routine. Maybe you didn’t win tonight.

But you had him.

And Simon Riley never let his girl fall alone.

[okwonyo]

FIGHT FOR YOU 。 𝗉𝗌𝗁

𝐈𝐕────𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗂𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎

❪ 𝖠 ★ 𝗕𝗢𝗨𝗧 ❫ 、 boxer!psh & fem!rea 1O8O fluff 𝘄 ｡ mention of blood skinship kissing ◞ ◟书

REBLOG = KISS ！

door closed but unlocked, you take sunghoon in after he knocks a few times on the door. he presents to you breathless, pecks heaving as he tries to calm the pace of his heartbeat. his hair is messy, sticky on his forehead due to his sweat. he is wearing a white tank top that sticks to his abs for dear life.

“hey, pretty,” he greets you. with his usual smirk tugging on his wounded lips. he still looks ridiculously handsome, even bruised and bloody.

you roll your eyes at the petname, although you still smile, and walk into the room without greeting him back, “close the door behind you.”

“so bossy,” he laughs quietly. he listens to your order however as you sit on the chair in front of the bed.

he sits down, right in front of you. he is quiet for a short amount of time, watching the way your fingers work softly to prepare the cottons and products you will use to ease the slight sting on his skin.

you hold his chin. turning his head to the side, you trail your eyes over his perfect jaw. you turn his head to the other side, looking at the wounds that you need to take care of.

he isn’t very bruised. just a cut on his lower lip and left eyebrow. there is also some reddened parts due to the hits he received, nothing some ice can’t heal.

“you didn’t come watch me fight,” sunghoon breaks the long silence. his lips are formed in a slight pout. it’s cute, even for a giant like him.

you laugh quietly, “i didn’t,” you can never bring yourself to. your knees buckle at the thought of him getting hurt alone. as you tap the disinfectant soaked cotton on his lower lip, you think that you will have a heart attack if you watched one of his fights.

“i won,” he tells you. you nod slowly, patting the tissue, letting the blood disappear from his perfect face. “you own me a date.”

he hisses when you press the material against his bruise. you didn’t do it on purpose, “i’m sorry—w–what?”

sunghoon’s fangs show up when he smiles so widely, “damn, do i make you that nervous?”

you sigh loudly, tossing the bloody cotton in the bin next to you, “please, shut up and let me work on you.”

he runs his tongue on his mouth, tasting the cleaned cut on his lower lip. “you can work on me anytime, sweetheart.”

you ignore his comment and the creeping blush on your cheeks. his presence makes your heartbeat go at a ridiculously fast pace. even more when he talks to you this way.

“so?”

“what?”

“you own me a date.” he presses while you clean his other cut.

you sigh once again, too busy focusing on your work to give him an answer just yet. you remember that he told you about how he wanted to take you on date. and you joked that if he won his next fight, you would think about it. but you thought it was meaningless joking.

“i don’t know what you are talking about,” you put the other tissue in the bin again. then you get up to take a pack of ice in the fridge.

you can hear the grin in his deep voice, “oh yeah?”

clearing your dry throat doesn’t help. your voice is still weak, “y–yeah.”

his gaze is hard to avoid. when you stand so close, applying ice on his bruise. you don’t know why you do it for him. he can do it himself. you don’t stop, though.

“then why are you red in the face, hm?” his goddamn smirk never wipes off his face, you swear it. his eyes are burning holes in your lips when he stares at them so shamelessly. how can he know anything about the state of your face when he is only focused on your mouth?

“stop it.”

“what?” he fakes confusion. tilting his head to the side.

“looking at me like that,” you are embarrassed of your voice’s ridiculously high pitch.

he seems amused by it. he chuckles, “like what?”

the tension in the room is building. you feel your body being pulled by his, telepathically, more and more, “like you want to kiss me or—or something!”

sunghoon falls silent. your eyes rest on his face after your sudden outburst and his gaze is still on your lips. slowly, he brings his hand to yours, the one that is holding the ice against his skin.

you can only blink as he brings it down, away from his face. “would you let me?”

you breath is stuck in your throat for a while. you eyelashes bat as you slowly try to take in what he just asked, “what?”

you want to hear it again. you want him to be clear, as he always is.

“if i kissed you,” his voice is quiet. you didn’t realize how close he got to you— or was it you who leaned in without realizing? “would you let me do it, doll?”

he is already close enough. he might be able to hear the sound of your fastening heart rate, “d–do you really want to?”

his lips tickle yours when he answers, “i really need to.”

the sound of the ice pack falling on the ground echoes in the entire room. you hold his face into your palms. his lips smash against your with such a passion that your body reacts to it like it would to electricity.

his hair are fluffy against your hand after you wrap your arms around his neck and run your fingers through his locks. he smiles against your mouth when you grip into his hair slightly.

his strong hands hold onto your waist. he yanks you closer to his body. you can feel the metallic taste of his cut on your tongue when his mouth moves so smoothly against your own.

sunghoon’s hand comes to hold your own. he slides your hand down to his neck, then your palm brush of his pecs and you soon feel his sculpted abs under the thin tissue of his tank top.

“fuck, love it when you touch me,” he says. it makes your knees so weak that you almost fall. but he holds you tighter and slides his tongue in your mouth when you yelp.

after thinking for a while, you decide that will let him take you on a date.

분지 ܃ for sallie 🎀

© 𝖮𝖪𝖶𝖮𝖭𝖸𝖮 ୨୧ 𝟐𝐎𝟐𝟓 ── taglist open 。

[literatooru]

𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

pairing: villain f!reader x pro-hero bakugo katsuki warnings: 18+ (NSFW) (MDNI), mutual masturbation, unprotected sex, creampie, he calls reader brat, sort of public sex but there's really no one around lol

Bakugō Katsuki, most commonly known as pro-hero Dynamight. If you haven’t heard his name, it means you’ve probably been living under a rock. He’s one of the most famous heroes, loved —and hated— by many. Nobody knows just how many cell’s he’s filled with villains (except him, he keeps count of them… you know, just to prove he’s the best—, and he’s never failed to catch anyone he’s in pursuit of. That is, until you came around.

It’s not that Katsuki hasn’t caught you. In fact, he has. Multiple times, actually, which makes it even more ironic. It’s something he could never forgive himself for — but he’d hate himself even more if he gave you away. Sometimes, the simple thought of you is the only thing that gets him through the day.

And, once again, here you are after successfully robbing a jewelry store, you flee the scene with a bag full of shiny, gorgeous goods, easily dodging the local cops chasing you. Losing them is not difficult — you’ve done it on countless occasions, you know the way they think. You let out a gleeful laugh as you run, exhilaration fueling your body as you dart into the alleyway. That is, until you’re yanked by the arm and slammed against the wall. 

A groan escapes you when the impact almost knocks the air out of you, your right hand flying up to curl your fingers around your attacker’s wrist. And you recognize him before you even actually see him, because you’ve been in that exact position before, albeit in different circumstances.

“I know I usually like it rough, Kats, but you should hold back a little,” you chuckle, wincing when his fingers flex around your throat.

“I don’t believe it,” he growls, his lips pulled back in a snarl.

You roll your eyes, taking a deep breath when he finally lets go, rubbing your sore neck.

“Sorry, I meant Dynamight. My bad.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I think it’s quite obvious.” You give the bag still clutched in your grip a shake, the jewels inside jingle. The sound alone makes his scowl deepen.

He forces himself to take a step back before your scent takes over his senses. Every single muscle in his body is tense, and you notice a vein pop out on his temple when he huffs in annoyance.

“I thought I told you last time would be the last time,” he mutters, glancing furtively around before pulling you even deeper into the alleyway after making sure there’s no one around.

“Yeah, you also said it the time before that. And, like, a week before that. And—” you break off, your face mere inches apart from his. You can feel his hot breath fanning your cheek as he glowers at you, his hand fisting the collar of your shirt.

“Listen here, brat. Drop the attitude or I’m going to fuck it out of you.”

You smirk, your eyes falling on his lips.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Kats.”

He steps forward until you’re against the wall once more.

“I’m not letting you go,” he warns.

You pop your lips and trace them with the tip of your tongue. Bakugo follows the motion, eyes hazy.

“Really?” you ask, brushing your lips against his. You can hear him gulp, his grip faltering a little. “It would put an end to our fun little game. I’m not sure you’re ready for that.”

And you’re right — he’s not. He fucking hates how addicted to you he’s become. There’s not a single day he doesn’t think about you; the way your lips devour his, your taste on his tongue, the sweet sounds you let out reverberating inside his skull for days on end. No, he’s not ready to let you go just yet, and if the smile on your face is any indicator, you’re unfortunately aware of it. He dreams of you, lives waiting for the day he’ll see you again — get to fuck you again. What he had told himself was a one time thing turned out to become one of his biggest problems, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

“Oh, bite me,” he spits out.

You chuckle with a mischievous glint in your eyes that makes his entire body tingle with anticipation. He knows that means danger, but the way you cloud his senses always make him just a teeny tiny slower than usual, and that’s enough for you.

“If you insist.”

And your lips are on his. His grip on your shirt loosens completely and it is frankly embarrassing how quick he is to reciprocate, almost like it’s the one thing he wished for and has been waiting for it to happen his entire life. He cages you between his arms, pressing his body flush against yours — Katsuki wants to feel every part of you against him, wants you all to himself. He’s planning to let out all of his frustrations on you tonight, and it’s not like you mind.

His lips trace your jaw with unusual kindness, nipping gently on the skin and exploring the area almost as if he's doing it for the first time. When he lowers his head to kiss your neck, he inhales deeply, and his mind becomes fuzzy and he feels as though he’s been drugged. You’re intoxicating.

He cups your jaw to hold your head in place, attacking your neck with his teeth, his actions growing rougher with each passing second.

“You’re a fucking menace, you know that?”

“Shut up and kiss me,” you breathe out, pulling on his hair to meet his lips again in another kiss. It’s careless and messy, just how it’s always been with him.

You hook your fingers in the waist of his pants to pull his hips closer to you, his growing erection pressing against you. The light friction makes him groan softly against your skin, wide hands traveling down to grope your breasts over your shirt. You slide a hand under the elastic of his pants and wrap your fingers around him. Bakugo hisses. Your hands are a little cold, but it feels good. He’s grateful that it’s so dark, because then you won’t notice how flushed his face actually is. All he can think about is tearing your clothes off and burying himself so deep inside you, he doesn't know where he ends and you start.

You stroke him slowly, thumbing his cockhead to smear the pre-cum along his shaft, twisting your wrist as you tighten your grip around him. Bakugo’s hips automatically thrust into your touch, soft groans and pants hitting your collarbone. You’re having the time of your life. Big pro hero Dynamight, completely at your mercy. The thought of leaving him like that, needy, wanting and desperate for your touch crosses your mind, but you ultimately decide against it. That’d be going too far, and he’d probably blow you up for it.

“Ngh, you damn tease,” he growls. “Faster.”

And you comply.

You can feel your underwear dampening against your skin. It’s uncomfortable, and squeezing your thighs together is accomplishing nothing. Once you’ve had the best, it’s hard to find anything to replace it, and nothing can quite fulfill your needs the way Bakugo does.

As if reading your mind, he pulls your leggings down —you decidedly choose to ignore the sound of fabric ripping, only hoping the damage isn’t bad enough to have you walking back to your place in your underwear—, hastily sliding your panties down your legs and sliding his entire hand between your folds to lubricate his fingers before sinking them inside your sopping cunt.

“Shit, you’re soaked,” he says, feeling everything with his digits. Your lips part open, and your moan is swallowed by his hungry lips. “Dirty girl. Turns you on, doesn’t it? Knowing we could get caught at any moment.” And the way you clench around his fingers only confirms what he already knows. “Oh, you do. You fucking love it, don’t you?”

“Not any more than you do,” you say with a breathy chuckle, tugging on his blond locks. “Think I didn’t notice? I bet you almost came in your pants just by thinking of it. Like a damn hormonal teenager.”

His free hand goes up to curl his fingers around your throat, squeezing lightly, and his cock throbs in your hand. It’s not the general scenario that has him in that state — it’s you. You, with your pretty lips, and your nice hair, and your fluttery lashes. You, the one person that has doomed him to an oddly specific failure.

“I’m going to make you eat your words.”

You’re about to reply, instead letting out a loud moan when he curls his fingers, rubbing that spongey spot inside you, and he has you squirming in no time. He spreads your legs open, lining himself up with your entrance and teasing you with the tip of his cock until you’re begging him to put it in.

“So impatient,” he says, pushing his hips forward. You can feel every single inch of him sliding in, both of you groaning when he bottoms out. He stays still for a moment, but it’s more for him than it is for you, although he doesn’t let it show. He refuses to prove you right by cumming in record time. His breathing is heavy and ragged, and he pulls out ever so slowly, choking out a moan with the way you’re clamping down on him, trying to suck him right back in. “Oh, fuck.”

“Katsuki,” you mewl in his ear, and he curses under his breath again, his cock twitching inside you. You gasp when he plunges back inside you, setting a ruthless pace that has you clawing at his back and crying out his name. The wet sound of your pussy sucking him in and the slapping of skin on skin is so loud that you wonder how no one’s found you out. “Shit, Kats!”

Your sweet, sweet moans fill his ears, and he does everything in his power to keep hearing them. His hands touch and apply pressure on all the right places, choking you, fondling your breasts, tweaking your nipples — his mouth bites, licks and sucks on your skin, marking it. He just can’t get enough of you. He considers to know your body well enough, but he can’t help but wish he had time to discover even more.

The way you gasp his name and tug on his hair tells him you’re close, and he is too. All it takes is a couple more thrusts before you’re crying out in ecstasy and creaming around his cock, everything growing wetter, louder and messier. Your spasming walls are what drive him over the edge, and he shoots thick ropes of cum deep inside you, painting your insides white. He rides it out with a series of grunts and moans escaping his lips, a thin layer of sweat making his body glisten under the moonlight.

Bakugo pulls out, struggling to catch his breath. He blinks a couple times to clear his head (an impossible task when you're looking utterly fucked out and breathtaking right in front of him, all thanks to his doing), sharpening his vision as his gaze falls on your thighs, his cum slowly dripping down them. He lets out a low chuckle, snatching your chin to make you look him in the eyes.

“You ungrateful little brat. You’re not supposed to waste it,” he whispers against your lips, a menacing smirk on his lips. His scarlet eyes darken, pupils dilated. “Guess I’ll just have to fill you up again.”

Bakugo takes a long, good look at you. There you are, the one villain he’s never been able to throw in jail, and most likely never will, because that’d mean letting you. You’re the one who floods his brain, invades his dreams and owns his body, because, like the thief you are, you’ve stolen everything — from his sanity to his heart.

[quarterlifekitty]

hi! do you mind me dumping my horny thoughts about bc!simon?

i just keep imagining what the boyfriends reaction would be if he walked in to his and readers apt after a looong day of work, because some workers (simon included) decided today of all days to call out, meaning mr. boyfriend had to work a double or 12 hours straight or something, and just sees simon railing reader in doggy over the dining table with her sobbing and begging for a break, as he looks around he notices that not only is the tv playing readers favorite show (that he finds annoying and always makes a big deal about her watching, saying he works all day and "doesn't want to watch none of this bs") but that there's also dishes and clothes possibly condoms and cum stains everywhere, and he realizes that this mf called out of work to not only fuck his girl all day but they actually hung out AND she fed him in between rounds lol

(simon wasn't even watching the show he was just paying attention to her expressions and her explaining everything going on *cough*he was only doing the bare minimum *cough* and falling more in love with her with every breath *cough* and she felt so seen and loved 🥀🥀🥀💔💔💔)

..ok but be honest..is my love for my favorite blorbos saving me from shitty situations showing....

i scream you scream we all fucking scream for blue collar simon

BUT he's not a total animal. He at least waits for him to show up at work on Monday, exhausted from sleeping in a shitty motel, to hand him his pink slip.

Also, like, the condom was like foreplay for Simon. I say the condom because there was just one for the first time he came. And you didn't protest when you watched him knot it and sling it into the garbage before pushing back into you, keeping eye contact with you all the while. After that it was all raw. There's such a thick, white, frothy ring around his cock from the amount of times he's fucked his load into you that your soon-to-be-ex could probably see it from the door.

And I'm just imagining the way Simon eases his way through the door. It's too easy. All he has to do is say he works with your boyfriend, and you're inviting him inside. Brewing tea. He sees you take a preciously guarded tin from Fortnum and Mason out from the very back of a low cabinet. He doesn't usually take his tea sweetened, but he sees how much you love preparing it, so he just asks you to make it the same way you do yours.

A splash of milk and a teaspoon of honey from one of those bear-shaped bottles. You apologize-- your tea biscuits were made on Tuesday, so they're not fresh. He remembers them from Tuesday's lunch. Work starts early, so you must be up at an ungodly hour making all these lovely things for that asshole.

Once Simon's got all his things moved in, you'll be far too ravished to get up at 5AM to bake, he thinks.