#i’m not sure how life will look like tomorrow but i do mean what i said here 🥲

[seitmai]

Ahh so many thoughts

“I’m not going back on what I said, Steve. If you ask me, I’m ready.” Steve couldn’t believe his luck. “How much is that promise worth to you, Peach? Because when I make a promise, I keep it.”

“Well, I need you to trust me. And I need to ask you a question." “Understood.” Steve kneeled at the side of the bed, those eyes focused on you. He looked like a little boy. And then he asked you a very grown up question.

Ahhh I love the comparison of him looking like a little boy asking a grown up question 😍

“This place is… it’s amazing, Steve. I can’t believe we just did that.” “More amazing now that you’re here. And you better believe it.”

🥰🥰🥰

“I have something for you…a wedding gift”

Wedding gift? Have I missed something lmao?

“That’s what we are. It’s what you do for me. Make me want to be a better man.” You exhaled, your lips parting slightly as you turned around in his arms. “Steve. You are a good man. You’re just doing things in a slightly unconventional way. You’re talking to the queen of unconventional. Remember where we met?”

Haha fair

“You’ve been hanging around Bucky too long.” Steve chuckled, tilting your chin up with a knuckle. He was happy. “You’re right. But anyway, the necklace is for tomorrow, I mean the Gala tonight. Something to remind you that no matter who else is in the room... you’re my wife."

Ahhh i can't with them

"You have a dance studio?" "You have a dance studio," he corrected.  "I arranged for it to be started while we were in Hilton Head and it was just finished yesterday. I wanted you to have a place to move. To feel free while you’re in Brooklyn."

He knew right away what he wants and went the extra mile before being sure it would work

You went to the pole and grabbed it and leaned out, checking it. It was sturdy and conditioned. You twirled a little and came to rest, the pole between the ass cheeks of your leggings. Steve’s look became hungry, and his cock jumped in his sweats. If he was thinking of sleep earlier, he was wide awake now.  And some parts of him were more awake than others. 

🤭🤭🤭

“So… you had a dance studio built, for me, while we were in Hilton Head? Me, a woman who was threatening your life?”

Iconic behavior of both of them hahah

“No touching unless I give permission. That’s the rule in Peach’s Parlor.” Steve cocked his head, grinning now. “Peach’s Parlor? So you like it? You taking ownership of the place?”

Duhh she's taking ownership

He was putting the cart before the horse, but he wanted to be your baby daddy so bad. He head was in the clouds as you hooked one leg around the pole, arching your back as you slid downward in a controlled descent, your body moving with the music, sensual and confident. 

This is literally not putting the cart before the horse for those two 😅 after this wedding that apparently happened, her already being pregnant would not be out of the ordinary, like true to them they should already have a three year old or something, talking about unconventional 😂

Steve almost got lost there, but when you whispered, “Good boy,” he forgot how to breathe. He didn't know he liked that. but the fact that you'd guessed it made you even more perfect for him. 

🤭🤭🤭

“Fuck, Peach… You trying to kill me?” Steve murmured, his voice low and rough. “We just got married.” “How is it you married me, and I hadn’t even sucked your cock yet?” Steve chuckled and then got serious. “Must be true love.”

Must be 🤷🏻‍♀️🤭

When he saw that you were going to kneel, he quickly moved a pillow from the chaise for you to settle in front of him. He then lifted his hips from the couch and pulled down his sweats and boxers in one move.

Thoughtful and ready to go at once

Inspired, you took him as far as you could, until your lips were stretched to the limit and tears coursed down your face. You inhaled the musky scent of him in the hair at the base of his cock and looked back up to watch his contracting abs and heaving chest, his open mouth and those mesmerizing eyes. This was a fucking beautiful man.

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

“You’re a fucking goddess. Wanna cum down your throat, Peach, but don’t swallow our kids. Need ‘em inside you.”

Someone is really eager to be a dad👀

“Can’t waste a drop.” “You are filthy slut, Mr. Rogers.” He laughed. “Only for you, Mrs. Rogers.”

They are a perfect match 🤭 

"This isn’t a race. I’m never gonna be jealous of you, girl.” You grinned back. “I’m pissed that I wasn’t able to be there, though.” You sighed. Your one regret.

Valid

“Because when I’m with him, it makes sense. The way he looks at me, the way he is with me—it doesn’t feel rushed. It just feels… right.”

🥹🥹🥹

“I know you think that I feel some kind of way, but I know you girl. I was shocked, but not surprised..” She laughed and you shook your head. “Running off and getting married is so you. It’s so Steve too when you think about it.”

She's like: bitch, I saw this one coming 😂

“You’re right,” she replied. I’m secure. It will happen. And just at the right time for us. And no matter what, Peach. You are never gonna lose me as your biggest fan, no matter what.”

I'm sure the wait won't be long 🤭

You hugged each other so hard, the stylists had to touch you back up.

I'm sure it was a great, much needed hug 🫶🏻

“No comment?” Steve exhaled, stepping closer, his voice rough around the edges. “You already know, Mrs. Rogers.”

👀👀👀

“You know if you keep giving me gifts like this, you’re going to spoil me.” His eyes darkened, and his hand came to rest on your hip, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress. “That’s the plan,” he murmured, voice low, “Mrs. Rogers.”

He is ready to spoil her rotten

"You're going to get enough of watching us like a drama." "Never. You two are my favorite romcom."

Fair haha

Sharon was clearly not happy, but fuck that bitch.

Period!

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.” Steve tactfully removed his arm from her grasp while the fingers on his other hand reached for you and rested low on your back, his thumb stroking a slow, deliberate circle against the sequined fabric of your gown. “It’s been two days, Sharon,” he replied, his tone clipped. And annoyed.

I can feel Steve rolling his eyes haha

Your cousin and Bucky moved closer, probably because she clocked what was going on.

They are ready for the drama 😂🤭

“You know what’s really refreshing, Sharon? Watching a woman who wants to fuck around with me and my family and find out.”

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

Bucky stepped forward as Sharon’s jaw twitched into a twisted smile. Bucky whispered in your cousin's ear. She glared at him and started taking off her jewelry, handing her earrings to him. Bucky shook his head and pulled her to the side while she gave him the business.

Hahaha was she getting ready to throw some punches??

Steve pulled you into his arms and kissed your forehead, not bothering to lower his voice when he said, “I’ll remind you how much I love that later.” Your cousin groaned dramatically. “You two are disgustingly perfect for each other.”

“Do you think calling me a stripper is an insult?” Your voice was strong and steady. “I own what I do. I’m damn good at what I do. And you?”  You looked her up and down, eyebrow deadly. “You’re standing here, burning because even with your family ties, and your desperate little designer dress, the only woman Steve wants is me. He married me.” You leaned in even closer. “The difference between us? I don’t have to chase him. I just have to walk into a room.” You smiled at her sweetly. “And he follows.”

The way I screamed reading this 👏🏻

🤭🤭🤭

Peach VII

Peach VI | Peach VIII

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is a mob boss trying to get clean. It’s definitely because he’s in love. With you. He's got you on his turf in NYC. Do you leave there single or a married woman?

Pairing: Art Dealer/Artist/Philanthopist (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: I have all of the words and none of the confidence. Oh I hope you like it. It may not be everyone's cup of tea. This is part one of the Valentine's weekend bundle. I hope you like it. Let me know my LOVEs! ❤️

This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and DIRECTLY AFTER the events in Peach VI. Your interaction keeps me writing, so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Steve Rogers is rich, bitches!, the big one bling, the event! stripping, pole dancing, lap dancing, sloppy blow job, is this Subby!Steve? woman on top, nipple play (m receiving), size kink, definite breeding kink, raw p in v, a lil bit of cum play. Family feeeelings, Bucky being Bucky, Steve being a simp, jealous bitches, almost catching a case at a gala.

Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

--------

“If you ask me, I’m ready…”

“Is that what you want?” Steve said as his hands gripped your waist.

You couldn't look away from his eyes which were deeply searching yours.

When you moved your hand to his chest, his heart thudded through the muscle and the bone to your fingertips.

You nodded and marveled at how far you both had come in such a short amount of time.

You were sure.

“I’m not going back on what I said, Steve. If you ask me, I’m ready.”

Steve couldn’t believe his luck.

“How much is that promise worth to you, Peach? Because when I make a promise, I keep it.”

His beautiful deep velvet voice had you swooning in his arms. 

“Everything. It’s worth everything, Steve.”

It was unthinkable what you were feeling. But it was oh so right.

Steve’s look was so serious for a moment and then he kissed you again. He flipped you over, torso pinning yours down, abs between your legs. You whined with need as he kissed you, tenderly, his fingers tracing your face.

Then he pulled away.

“Get dressed, Peach.”

“What?

“Get dressed. Pack up. You’re checking out of the hotel.'

You looked at him and cocked your eyebrow.

“Oh. Am I?”

Steve chuckled at your sass. It was so cute. Then he pulled you close and whispered in your ear.

“Yes. You are. Remember I said that I was going to give you what you need, when you need it?”

You shivered at the way Steve handled you.

“Yes, Mr. Rogers.”

“Well, I need you to trust me. And I need to ask you a question."

“Understood.”

Steve kneeled at the side of the bed, those eyes focused on you. He looked like a little boy.

And then he asked you a very grown up question.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal the corridor to Steve’s penthouse at the top of the Rebirth building. There were two doors on the entire hallway, both mirroring each other. 

Steve walked beside you to one of the entrances, his hand resting lightly at the small of your back, a touch both casual and possessive. 

Your mouth dropped open when the door opened on floor-to-ceiling windows framing the Manhattan skyline. 

The view went on forever.

"Jesus, Steve. This is… Beautiful!"

Your eyes shone as you turned in a circle to take in the room.

"Wait until you see the rest."

You were wandering now, your fingertips trailing over the sleek countertops, the rich leather of his couch, and the curated artwork lining the walls. Everything about the space was sophisticated, masculine, Steve.

You wondered how you could lend your touch.

Steve had gone into another room, his bedroom, you imagined, to put your things down. He came up behind you as you stared out of the window, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He kissed your neck as you leaned your head back on his chest.

“This place is… it’s amazing, Steve. I can’t believe we just did that.”

“More amazing now that you’re here. And you better believe it.”

“I have something for you…a wedding gift”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, bringing it in front of you. 

The diamonds on your hand glittered and caught your eye as you reached to touch what was inside. It was a necklace with double diamond solitaires, one cushion cut and one pear shaped, nestled side by side on a thin, gleaming chain.

A moi et toi design.

To match your ring.

You blinked up at him, craning your neck to look him in the eye. He pecked you on the lips.

“Steve…”

He reached out, and plucked the necklace from the box. His fingers brushed the nape of your neck as he draped it around you.

“Moi et toi,” he murmured near your ear. “Me and you.”

You swallowed, your fingers rising to touch the stones on your skin as you gazed out on the city. 

“It’s beautiful.”

“Two stones side by side; one strengthens the other.” 

His thumb brushed over your collarbone, tracing the edge of the necklace. 

“That’s what we are. It’s what you do for me. Make me want to be a better man.”

You exhaled, your lips parting slightly as you turned around in his arms.

“Steve. You are a good man. You’re just doing things in a slightly unconventional way. You’re talking to the queen of unconventional. Remember where we met?”

There you were, being adorable again. The way you’d fought him up until this week made Steve stand in disbelief at how accepting you were of him. And how easily you’d run off with him to Connecticut tonight to become his wife. 

It was crazy, but it was so right.

“I do. I seem to recall meeting you in heaven, because all I remember thinking is ‘who is this angel.’”  

You rolled your eyes and laughed.

“You’ve been hanging around Bucky too long.”

Steve chuckled, tilting your chin up with a knuckle. He was happy.

“You’re right. But anyway, the necklace is for tomorrow, I mean the Gala tonight. Something to remind you that no matter who else is in the room... you’re my wife."

You swallowed at the octave drop in Steve’s voice and he traced your throat with his thumb as you did it. Steve gathered you to him, pressing his lips to your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered into your ear.

“Come with me, there’s something else I want to show you. " 

He grabbed your hand and led you down a hallway. 

You followed until he stopped and turned to you with a mischievous grin. Then, he opened the door behind his back and backed in so he could watch your face. Curious, you followed him inside. 

Then you froze. 

It was a good sized space. Mirrors lined one entire wall, reflecting the soft glow of LED track lighting. You stepped out on the wood floor and realized that it was made from premium materials.

But what really caught your attention was the sleek, stainless-steel pole standing tall in the center of the room. You turned slowly, meeting Steve's expectant gaze. 

"You have a dance studio?" 

"You have a dance studio," he corrected. 

"I arranged for it to be started while we were in Hilton Head and it was just finished yesterday. I wanted you to have a place to move. To feel free while you’re in Brooklyn."

You went to the pole and grabbed it and leaned out, checking it. It was sturdy and conditioned. You twirled a little and came to rest, the pole between the ass cheeks of your leggings. 

Steve’s look became hungry, and his cock jumped in his sweats. If he was thinking of sleep earlier, he was wide awake now. 

And some parts of him were more awake than others. 

“So… you had a dance studio built, for me, while we were in Hilton Head? Me, a woman who was threatening your life?”

The way you smiled at him made Steve’s heart flutter. He nodded and came close and tried to kiss you, but you twirled away from him to the other side of the pole. He flashed you a smile and your butterflies started up again.

“It was right after you threatened to shoot my balls off. I knew you had it bad.”

Steve sighed as if he was nostalgic for your death threats. You laughed as Steve grabbed for you again.

You scooted away from him.

“Don’t touch, Mr. Rogers,” you admonished as your finger wagged in front of those lips. 

Then you pointed, and Steve followed your hand as if mesmerized. He was the one who had it bad.

“Why don’t you sit down so I can test this thing out? Haven’t had a proper dance workout all week.”

Steve nodded and went to sit down on the chaise lounge in the corner of the room.

You stepped forward, and your pulse quickened as you held Steve’s gaze. He leaned back against the back of the chaise, arms crossed over his broad chest, and his t-shirt straining across his shoulders, biceps, and chest.

His blue eyes were focused with an intensity that sent a shiver through your body.

"Music?" you prompted. 

Steve smirked and tapped his phone. A pulsating beat filled the room, the bass vibrating beneath your feet, and causing your hips to sway. You didn’t have your heels and you were in loungewear, but one of those things was to your advantage.

You grabbed the hem of your sweatshirt, teasing a glimpse of your skin as you swayed to the music.

Steve’s eyes darkened and his breath visibly slowed.

You took your time, dragging the cotton up your body as you shimmied, baring the skin of your stomach, then your bra, then your collarbones as your head was hidden for half a second.

You winked when you emerged and you moved closer as you leaned over him and placed your garment on the lounge next to him.

Steve didn’t move. Didn’t blink. But his jaw clenched, and you didn’t miss the way his fingers flexed at his sides.

Then, you turned around, hooking your thumbs in the waistband of your leggings and looked over your shoulder to find him staring at your ass and licking his lips. Steve looked up at you, his blue eyes burning now as you smirked at him and peeled the black material down to reveal your flesh, in black lace, bent fully at the waist. 

Steve’s hands twitched for want of reaching out. He exhaled sharply, restraint hanging by a thread.

You straightened up slowly, twerking and slapping your own ass, holding a cheek so that he could see the lace-clothed split of you. You shot him a saucy wink as you stepped out of your clothing, pushing it aside with the tip of your toe before slowly running your hands down your body. 

You brought your hands up to your face, sliding them down your neck to your chest, then your sides, letting your fingers skim over your ribs, down your stomach, then back up, skirting along your bra and pulling your nipples through the fabric. 

Steve made a low sound in his throat, his control cracking.

It was just as he decided to reach out to touch you that you walked toward the pole on tip toes, the only way you knew how to do it. 

“No touching unless I give permission. That’s the rule in Peach’s Parlor.”

Steve cocked his head, grinning now.

“Peach’s Parlor? So you like it? You taking ownership of the place?”

He was proud that you seemed pleased. You smiled back at him in response, exhaling and letting the rhythm take you.

You started with a slow walk around the pole, each step deliberate, your hips swaying just enough to raise the temperature of his blood degree by degree. 

His smile dropped and his jaw tightened, but he didn’t move, his restraint evident in every rigid line of his body as his eyes followed your every move

You reached up, gripping the pole above your head, then lifted yourself effortlessly, letting momentum carry you into a slow spin. The world blurred for a moment, the mirrors reflecting your every movement as you let your legs extend, toes pointed, body fluid. 

The way you moved was unhurried, deliberate, and so alluring. Steve sighed and bent his head to the side, taking you in. Then he bit his lip, remembering how you felt around him earlier. You felt so fucking good, your sweet, hot pussy pulsing around him.

He was putting the cart before the horse, but he wanted to be your baby daddy so bad. He head was in the clouds as you hooked one leg around the pole, arching your back as you slid downward in a controlled descent, your body moving with the music, sensual and confident. 

The way your muscles flexed and relaxed, the roll of your hips was mesmerizingly beautiful. You were performing your art for Steve, moving for his pleasure. 

But you were in control. 

And it made Steve remember that this is what it was that made him fall for you in the first place. Damn, he wanted you, and even though you were only steps away, it was driving him crazy. 

When you reached the floor, you dropped to your knees, your thighs spread, fingers skimming down your skin as you stared at him.

Steve rubbed his hands on his pants to ease the itch of his fingers wanting to grasp you.

You stood and grabbed the pole once more, swinging around in another smooth, effortless climb. You wrapped your legs around the metal, suspended for a moment, before twisting into an elegant descent, your body brushing against the pole in a way that made Steve’s balls ache.

When you landed, you moved toward him on tiptoe again, all legs and glistening body, hips swaying, eyes locked onto his.

Steve only moved to put his hands on the back of the lounge, but other than that he was still.

In a graceful move, you straddled him carefully, knees on either side of his slim hips. You were close enough for him to feel your warmth, but were barely touching him. The heat coming from your core made him feral and his eyes were drawn downward to the source.

You felt a tremendous power, so you reached for his chin and tilted it up so he could look into your eyes. 

Steve almost got lost there, but when you whispered, “Good boy,” he forgot how to breathe. He didn't know he liked that. but the fact that you'd guessed it made you even more perfect for him. 

He covered a whimper by clearing his throat. A secret smile was on your lips as you slowly rolled your hips and arched your back, your nipples barely grazing his chest. 

Steve's eyes were everywhere, watching everything, especially your tits, which were so hard and beautiful through the lace.

He felt like if he could just to suck them for a minute, everything in the world would be alright.

A minute each. 

Maybe an hour.

Steve's breath was hot against your skin, but he still hadn’t touched you. His grip on the chaise tightened, his control hanging by a thread.

You ran your fingers down your body before leaning backward and grazing his thighs and it was just enough to plan out the pattern of his skeet along your skin. He was sure, with practice, he could spell out his name.

In one fluid movement, you turned around, pressing your back to his chest, and, lightly, so lightly, too lightly, ground against his rigid cock with slow, deliberate precision.

Steve felt delirious and close to expiring.

“Fuck, Peach… You trying to kill me?” Steve murmured, his voice low and rough. “We just got married.”

Married!

You looked over your shoulder at him and moved your lips close to his, smiling as you saw the muscles in his corded neck tense.  You leaned in, your lips hovering near his ear.

“You're so good for me Stevie… Such a good... big... boy.”

You twerked the last three words in his lap, causing him to exhale sharply and his hands to twitch. You arched, rolling your body against his again. 

And then.

Finally, finally, you let yourself sink into his lap, pressing fully against his cock. He could feel your moist pussy lips through layers of fabric.

And that’s when Steve’s restraint snapped.

His hands shot to your waist, gripping hard, his fingers digging into your skin. You leaned back and his lips found your shoulder, his breath uneven.

You smirked and turned around, dragging your nails lightly down his chest, feeling his heartbeat hammer beneath your touch.

Steve crashed his mouth to yours, swallowing your laughter in a kiss that was deep and desperate. His hands roamed your body, tracing lace, his need evident in every touch.

“My sweet Peach. Mrs. Rogers,” he growled against your skin, voice thick with hunger.

You reached up to run your fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to make his head tilt back.

“Yesss. Say Heyyyy, Mrs. Rogers…,” you teased.

One hand clasped his throat, squeezing his Adam's apple lightly as his blue eyes shone from his slitted lids. Steve's cock pulsed in his pants, then he took a ragged breath before he spoke.

“Heyyyyyy. Mrs. Rogers...”

You rolled your hips against his impressive bulge as Steve’s baritone rumbled in your ear. As you reached for the hem of his shirt, he kissed you, grabbing the collar to take it off.

You looked at Steve appreciatively as you bent and licked one erect nipple, then wrapped your lips around the tiny button, pulling it into your mouth and eliciting a small groan from him. You took your time, enjoying his sounds which got louder and louder.

"Such a good boy making those pretty sounds for me, Stevie."

You licked, sucked and savored him as you alternated from one pec to the other.

“Wanna always be good for you, Peach...” 

Steve gritted it out as you grabbed him by the hair, pulling him into a filthy, long, deep kiss. He grabbed for you and held on as your mouth plundered his.

Then you pulled away.

“I have a question, Mr. Rogers,” you unclasped your bra, then leaned forward and stuffed your nipple into his mouth, moaning as he looked up at you with those clear blue eyes and sucked enthusiastically.

“How is it you married me, and I hadn’t even sucked your cock yet?”

Steve chuckled and then got serious.

“Must be true love.”

You felt his cock pound between your legs and knew what had to happen. His fingernails scratched your thighs trying to hold on to you as you moved back to stand.

When he saw that you were going to kneel, he quickly moved a pillow from the chaise for you to settle in front of him. He then lifted his hips from the couch and pulled down his sweats and boxers in one move.

His erection sprung out and you licked your lips, ready to finally feel the smooth skin in your mouth.

"Touch yourself for me, Stevie."

Steve took himself in hand and started stroking from base to head, thumb swiping the drops of precum in passing. His burning gaze was on you but your eyes were glued to what was in his fist. 

“Fuck that’s hot… Wan’ taste you,” you were whining now, feeling deprived. 

“..Whatever you want.” Steve whispered in a strained voice after looking into those big, beautiful eyes.  

You ran your fingers over his thick dick all the way down to the heavy, tight balls. 

“So pretty…” 

You kept eye contact as you leaned in and gave him a long, wet lick from balls to head. Your tongue rolled over the soft skin of the large mushroom cap, taking in the dewey drops leaking from it.

You licked down the hard shaft, until you reached the base and ran your tongue over his large sac.

You began sucking on his tip, tonguing underneath, and humming around his head, causing Steve to murmur, “Fffeels so fucking good, Peach.”

He was carding his fingers through your hair as he said it.

Inspired, you took him as far as you could, until your lips were stretched to the limit and tears coursed down your face. You inhaled the musky scent of him in the hair at the base of his cock and looked back up to watch his contracting abs and heaving chest, his open mouth and those mesmerizing eyes. 

This was a fucking beautiful man.

Steve’s big hands gathered your hair and held it, just tight enough to send a zing to your clit. 

“Peachhhhh, that mouth is good.”

Steve was in love with how you sucked him off. He rolled his hips and found out just how snug your throat really was. When you pulled off, tears were rolling down your face.

He wiped your tears away with his thumb. 

"Y' look so fucking pretty like this, Peach.”

The way you took him all when you deep throated him again sent the cum crawling up his balls. 

“Fuckfuckfuck. Shit.”

You pulled off and released him with a filthy plop, watching as he desperately squeezed his cock at the base, trying to stop the impending explosion.

He reached out for you with his other hand and you climbed up onto his lap as he marveled at your messy hair, your bouncing tits, and fucked out expression.

“You’re a fucking goddess. Wanna cum down your throat, Peach, but don’t swallow our kids. Need ‘em inside you.”

The tip of his cock nudged your entrance, and you reached down and grabbed it, perfecting its position as you sank down on it.

You both watched in fascination as your pussy engulfed him preceded by the juices from your wet pussy. Steve’s hands grabbed onto your hips, and you wanted him to bruise you, to have a mark on you from this for days. 

Your head lolled back on your shoulders as you glided down on your Steve's, thick cock. He lifted you by your waist and alternated fucking you up and down his dick and thrusting into you, hitting angles he hadn't before.

His grunts and your moans were beautiful music.

“Please look at me, Peach.”

His tone was reverent and you couldn't help but obey. The sounds you two were making sent you right to the edge of a precipice.

“Oh… right…there… right fucking there!”

You keened as you scratched the skin on his shoulders and biceps. 

“Fucking me so good, Stevie…So righttt. N-need you to keep hitting it like that…give it to me just like that. All your cum. Inside me.”

He was hitting those bundles of nerves just right.

“You need it like that hunh? I'll give it to you until it drips out of you... Need it dripping down my gotdamn balls....”

And he proceeded to fuck up into you perfectly. Your hands moved from his shoulders to his hair and you leaned in for a filthy kiss. He gripped your throat and carefully squeezed to control your airflow. Your eyes began to roll and your cunt clenched down on him. Hard.

"Ffuckk, " He had to grit his teeth to keep from cumming. "Need you to fucking cum, Peach....."

“I- I’m close Stevieeee. Ahhh. Give it. Gonna have all your babies….”

Your pussy started clenching around him.

“Holy FUCK!”

Steve picked you up and placed you on the chaise, pulling your legs over his shoulders as he drilled into you. He slid a hand between you and rubbed your clit in soul-destroying circles.

“Drain these fucking balls...shhhhhitttttt!"

You clutched him close as you felt his cock start and continue to spurt hot cum inside you. As he softened, he sat back on his heels and spread your legs to watch his cum drip out of you. He trailed two fingertips down your sensitive slit and pushed it back inside you, all the while a sly grin on his face.

He caught your eye. 

“Can’t waste a drop.”

“You are filthy slut, Mr. Rogers.”

He laughed. 

“Only for you, Mrs. Rogers.” 

Steve grabbed his t-shirt to clean you both up a bit. Next thing you knew, you were being carried out of the studio and through to his master bedroom 

It was daylight when you were lightly snoring in his arms and Steve was grinning wide, his wife in his arms.

—

The next afternoon, you sat in front of the vanity in Bucky’s penthouse as the hired glam team worked around you and your cousin. The stylist meticulously worked with your hair while the makeup artist added the final sweep of highlighter across her cheekbones.

The two of you had been getting ready together for years, first as teenagers sneaking into her mother’s closet, and now as women preparing for an extravagant event in a high-rise overlooking Manhattan. But this afternoon was different.

Her eyes met yours in the mirror. You had just her the rundown of the day before, complete with the news that you and Steve were married. She’d been quiet for a while, but now it seemed she was ready to talk again.

“You’re really happy, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice soft but certain.

You blinked, then exhaled.

“Yes I am.”

“You and Steve are perfect for each other. "

She leaned over and grabbed your hand, grinning at you.

"This isn’t a race. I’m never gonna be jealous of you, girl.”

You grinned back.

“I’m pissed that I wasn’t able to be there, though.”

You sighed. Your one regret.

“I know. But it was perfect. Just the two of us. We’ll have a party later on, though. And tonight, we’ll celebrate.”

You turned thoughtful.

“The way Steve loves me should terrify me. But it doesn’t.”

She studied you for a moment. 

“Because?”

“Because when I’m with him, it makes sense. The way he looks at me, the way he is with me—it doesn’t feel rushed. It just feels… right.”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

Your cousin smiled, tilting her head as the hairstylist and makeup artist switched and her hair was being fussed over. 

“I know you think that I feel some kind of way, but I know you girl. I was shocked, but not surprised..”

She laughed and you shook your head.

“Running off and getting married is so you. It’s so Steve too when you think about it.”

You took a sip of the mimosa that Bucky had brought in earlier. You thought what was about to happen for your cousin.

“Real talk. Bucky adores you, Cousin. And I know you. And I’m getting to know Bucky. This engagement and wedding are going to be events. Events, I say. You wouldn’t have it any other way. .You’re about to get some bling to match that jewelry you got on tonight in Vermont next week.” 

You two laughed together, the mood lighter now. 

“You’re right,” she replied. I’m secure. It will happen. And just at the right time for us. And no matter what, Peach. You are never gonna lose me as your biggest fan, no matter what.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too, cousin.”

You hugged each other so hard, the stylists had to touch you back up.

As you finished up, the sound of deep voices and approaching footsteps echoed from the hallway. The door opened, and Bucky stepped in first, his navy tuxedo perfectly tailored, his gaze immediately softening when he saw your cousin. 

“Damn Frumoasă,” he murmured, taking her in with slow appreciation. 

“You’re making it real hard for me to let you out of this apartment tonight.”

She shot him a look.

“Smooth, Barnes,” she smirked at him. “Nice suit.”

“What? This old thing?”

Bucky smirked back as he took her hand and led her out of the room.

You rolled your eyes at them because you had the feeling they were being freaky, you just couldn’t prove it.

Steve walked in, ensconced in an impressively tailored dark tux, his presence commanding as always, but the moment his eyes landed on you, something in him shifted. 

You were wearing a short gold sequined gown that showcased your legs, and you felt like a princess. 

Like a wife.

His usual air of control wavered for a fraction of a second, his gaze dragging over you like he was memorizing every inch.

You arched that adorable brow at him, tilting your head. 

“No comment?”

Steve exhaled, stepping closer, his voice rough around the edges. 

“You already know, Mrs. Rogers.”

Bucky chuckled, clapping Steve on the shoulder. 

“Think you broke him, Peach. Congratulations, Mrs. Rogers.”

You grinned, gave Bucky a hug and reached for your clutch. 

Steve reached out, his fingers grazing your wrist as he murmured, “Hold on.”

You frowned slightly, watching as Bucky guided your cousin toward the door, leaving just the two of you in the room. Steve reached into his pocket, pulling out another small black velvet box.

Your breath caught, your heart skipping for just a second.

He popped the top, revealing a pair of dazzling double diamond drop earrings, the perfect complement to the moi et toi necklace resting against your collarbone and the ring on your finger. All you could do was look at them and then blink up at him.

“Steve…”

He smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. 

“Thought you should match.”

You shook your head and laughed.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Steve lifted an earring, stepping close to help fasten it in place and his touch lingered.

“You say that now,” he murmured and then moved to the other side, his lips just a breath away from your skin.

“But you love it.”

You turned into his arms and looked into his eyes.

“You know if you keep giving me gifts like this, you’re going to spoil me.”

His eyes darkened, and his hand came to rest on your hip, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress. 

“That’s the plan,” he murmured, voice low, “Mrs. Rogers.”

Bucky cleared his throat from the doorway, breaking the moment. He was leaning against the frame, smirking. 

“Hate to interrupt, but Nico’s waiting. Unless you two want to skip the gala entirely.”

You rolled your eyes at the dark headed man and flipped him off.

"You're going to get enough of watching us like a drama."

"Never. You two are my favorite romcom."

Steve exhaled through his nose, the ghost of a smirk on his lips as he kissed your neck, producing a shiver. Then, lacing his fingers with yours, he led you toward the door.

—

The way the night was going seemed like a dream, arriving on Steve’s arm and watching the reactions. Some were surprised, but most just commented that you were such a handsome couple and gave congratulations.

Sharon was clearly not happy, but fuck that bitch.

Steve hadn’t given her, or anyone else that matter, a second glance.

When the music started, Steve danced with you to all the tempos, even the Salsa when that genre was played. You had a time, and then you two went to the bar to get refreshments.

Sharon chose that moment to show her ass. You barely had a sip of your amaretto sour before she started on her bullshit.

“Steve,” she purred, looking up at him under her lashes and placing her hand on his forearm. 

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

Steve tactfully removed his arm from her grasp while the fingers on his other hand reached for you and rested low on your back, his thumb stroking a slow, deliberate circle against the sequined fabric of your gown.

“It’s been two days, Sharon,” he replied, his tone clipped. And annoyed.

Your cousin and Bucky moved closer, probably because she clocked what was going on.

Sharon ignored Steve’s tone and turned to you. 

“And you must be the entertainment. Nice dress. Is it easy to take off?”

The words sounded sweet as honey, but you heard the venom underneath. 

“I guess congratulations are in order? I hear you two ran off and got married. I guess that's a choice. It’s probably refreshing, going from someone like Peggy to someone like…Peaches..”

“It’s Peach,” you replied. 

The bitch was silent.

Sharon’s gaze flicked to your ring, then your jewelry, then down the length of your gown. 

“Although you do wear luxury well. Tell me, how does it feel knowing it’s all borrowed? That he’s probably going to dump you tomorrow. Get an annulment and leave your ass in the gutter strip club where he found you.”

You could feel the heat of Steve’s fury at your side, his body tensing like he was about to snap.

Your mouth opened to reply, but your cousin stepped up, anger rolling off of her body.

“You know what’s really refreshing, Sharon? Watching a woman who wants to fuck around with me and my family and find out.”

She lowered her voice.

“And like a cable, we jump hoes.”

The air around you shifted, and a few party-goers slowed their conversations to listen.

Bucky stepped forward as Sharon’s jaw twitched into a twisted smile. Bucky whispered in your cousin's ear. She glared at him and started taking off her jewelry, handing her earrings to him. Bucky shook his head and pulled her to the side while she gave him the business.

“Oh, I didn’t mean that in a negative way.” Sharon simpered. “It’s just the truth.”

Sharon looked between you and Steve.

“You are nothing but negative. You don’t have to worry about my marriage. Or your endowment anymore, Sharon.”

Steve spoke to her, his eyes blazing blue.

You smiled at your man, then took a slow step forward, closing the space between you, lowering your voice just enough that only Sharon, and Steve, could hear.

“Do you think calling me a stripper is an insult?” 

Your voice was strong and steady.

“I own what I do. I’m damn good at what I do. And you?” 

You looked her up and down, eyebrow deadly.

“You’re standing here, burning because even with your family ties, and your desperate little designer dress, the only woman Steve wants is me. He married me.”

You leaned in even closer.

“The difference between us? I don’t have to chase him. I just have to walk into a room.” 

You smiled at her sweetly.

“And he follows.”

The moment the words left your lips, Steve did exactly that. 

As he left her in her feelings,  Steve tossed a comment over his shoulder.

“You just got your ass handed to you in front of half the room,” he mused. 

“I’d cut my losses and walk away.”

One of the staffers turned up at that moment. 

“This way, Ms. Carter. I’ll be escorting you out.”

The four of you watched as she turned red and huffed and puffed on her way out of the door. After everyone around you went back to minding their own business, your cousin hugged you hard.

“I love you. That was perfection.”

You hugged her back. 

“Thank you, Boo.”

You released her as Bucky handed her earrings back and Steve looked at you with admiration in his eyes. 

“You handled that well.”

You smirked. “I know.”

Steve pulled you into his arms and kissed your forehead, not bothering to lower his voice when he said, “I’ll remind you how much I love that later.”

Your cousin groaned dramatically.

 “You two are disgustingly perfect for each other.”

Bucky grabbed a bottle of Moet from the table display.

“A toast. To Mr. and Mrs. Steve Rogers!”

Your husband looked at you with a smile. You don’t know what was coming your way as Steve's wife, but you knew it wouldn’t be boring.

[mariaofdoranelle]

Maria! Drop the last chapter of Courtship Deception, AND MY LIFE IS YOURS 😩🧎‍♀️

HAHAHAHAH I WILL!! I promise ❤️❣️❤️❤️❤️‍🔥

Though I should tell you I owe you not just one chapter, but the entire climax loll but I’m sure I can do it in about 4k words, so it’ll be quick

It’s my next update, pinky promise!!

Also I made a promise to myself to not start anything new until I finish my wips, which include: TCD, LAUN, URDAD, Wedding Break (!!), You Still Would’ve Been Mine, Drawing Up the Plans, Teacher AU, super secret fic I’m writing with @aelinschild that haven’t seen the light of day but is already 7k words and ongoing… phew 😅 (and also sleeping beauty ro au if i find a good plot for it)

Like my friend called me out today:

Things really snowballed last year, but it’s just stupid of me to drop a bunch of projects I really love—and other people do too—because I’m excited about this new thing I just thought about. I know it’s annoying for readers, and I’m working to tie up the works I’m still excited about (99% of them, really)

[thriftdyke]

.

[slttygeto]

HUSBAND SUGURU! + PREGNANCY ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

tags: fem! reader, husband suguru!, nsfw, suguru is very hesitant about being a dad, but isnt forced into this :), reader is very motherly, dirty talk and talk about getting off the pill and being bred.

word count: 2,1k

Husband Suguru! whom before you even got married, sat you down and mentioned to you how starting a family wasn’t something he was looking forward to. you know of his past, of the trauma he’s been through. he fully expects you to break up with him when he tells you that, knows how much you want to have a baby of your own, but you don’t. instead, you cradle him in your arms and tell him that you love him and appreciate what you have right now, not what you don’t even see in the picture.

Husband Suguru! who swears he hasn’t changed his mind about babies, about starting a family in general even three years into the marriage. but when he sees you with your friend’s baby, the glow on your face, the motherly instinct—how you gently place your hand on the baby’s head, rock her back and forth and coo at her softly while her mother gets her food ready, his heart feels as though it is about to explode.

“There there baby girl,” your voice is barely above a whisper, and when the baby cries, your lip juts out and you pull the infant towards your chest in an attempt at soothing her. your eyes find his where he is sitting on the couch, and the lighthearted chuckle you give him pulls a nervous one out of his body. you are now convinced that your husband would never ever change his mind based on the horror painting his features as he turns to your friend’s husband to strike a conversation. but in reality, the topic of their conversation is all too surprising.

“Has it been difficult? You know, managing a career and taking care of the baby,”

“Oh yeah very,” the other man admits but Suguru doesn’t detect a single hint of regret in his voice. “but yknow, look at that,” he point his glass of water in the direction of his wife and you holding the baby. “seeing my wife with our baby, our creation—seeing her act all motherly like that? Totally worth it.”

Husband Suguru! who starts to consider the idea of getting you pregnant. he hopes for the rational part of his brain to win over, rather than the horny, disgustingly perverted one. but when you walk out of the shower in a crop top, his mind drifts elsewhere—and suddenly, the image of your belly swollen with his kids floods his mind and he has to put a pillow on his crotch to hide the very evident bulge in his pants.

Husband Suguru! who once he calms down and takes care of his raging boner, texts Satoru in a hurry, asking if they could meet up tomorrow morning. your husband tells you of his plans and you hum sleepily, telling him how catching up with his best friend seems like a good idea. Suguru drops the bomb on his best friend the moment they sit down and the ivory haired’s jaw almost meets the floor.

“You mean you wanna be a dad?”

“I’m not…too sure,” Suguru looks conflicted, he is holding his head in his hands. he knows very well that this is a topic that should be discussed with you, since you were the other person of interest in the situation. but he would hate to give you false hope, he’s seen the way your eyes light up at the mention of a baby, at one of your friends or colleagues being pregnant, how there’s a disappointed look on your face that you try so hard to conceal when Suguru gives you a face in response of a pregnancy announcement. but you are so patient, so accepting, you’ve never once forced him into anything. and truth be told, he wanted to see what kind of mother you would be to your baby—and then toddler, and then teenager and adult—you’d have a life together with a new person who would adapt either your personality or his, with a face of the love of his life. your baby could have your eyes and nose, he’s always pointed them out—even before you started dating.

“Dude, do you or do you not want to have a baby?”

“I don’t know man, it’s hard to think of.”

“Because you are thinking too hard about it,” Satoru says nonchalantly and it irks Suguru a little.

“I am not thinking too hard about it—this is a new responsibility, what if I am not fit to be a dad? I could be a failure for all we know—what if I pussy out of it and—“

“I would kill you.” Satoru warns the man and Suguru doesn’t try to hide how he stiffens up. “I am not joking, I would find you and bring you back to her as a sack of bones,”

“I wouldn’t betray her like that…”

“You’re too focused on the aspect of being a bad dad rather than a good one—yknow, you really think that she’d marry someone she doesn’t see fit as the future father of her children?” Satoru has a point. you did mention to him once (when Suguru was nowhere to be seen at a party you all attended) how falling in love with him was the best thing that’s ever happened to you, but the one thing that would top it is if he became a father to your children. Satoru, knowing his best friend’s stance on the topic, reminded you of how terrified the man was of the idea and all you did was give him a reassuring, understanding wave of your hands.

“I know, but I just know he’d love them hard and make them feel as safe as he makes me feel.”

Husband Suguru! who doesn’t really try to bring up the topic of ‘trying for a baby’. he cringes at the thought, feels as though it makes the process less romantic and intimate and more of a robotic task. as he is stripping you of your clothes, he is silent and lets his eyes wander over your figure. you are extremely shy tonight, unable to meet his eyes as his rough, calloused hands brush over the skin of your boobs before bending down to be at eye level with them. he brings the flesh inside his mouth and sucks—and blood rushes down to his groin at the thought of them being filled with milk, heavy and swollen, more sensitive than usual. his teeth graze the skin at an attempt to catch your attention and your thighs squeeze as you meet his eyes.

“Sugu…” your smaller hands rest on his face as he pulls away from your boobs to plant a heated kiss to your lips, effectively pushing you back on the bed. your back gently hits the mattress, and your chest is heaving in anticipation, unsure of what his next move would be.

“Baby,” he finally speaks up, nose brushing against your stomach as he brings his lips to the skin. “how about you drop the pill tomorrow?” he knows how much of a horrible job he is doing at this, but he feels you move, supporting yourself on your elbows.

“w-why would I do that?” your eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, and Suguru wishes to brush his thumb over the tense skin of your forehead.

Suguru is shameless as he kisses further south, planting his kiss above the tuft of your pubic hair before pushing your panties to the side. He parts the lips and gives your clit a kiss before moving to your inner thighs.

“why not? It’s doing horrible things to your body—“ he brushes his nose over your clit as he speaks. “beside, we need you off the pill if we want a baby, don’t you think?” when you don’t react to his words, Suguru looks up only to find you staring down at him with parted lips and eyes glossed over with tears.

“…are you sure?” you ask softly, and your husband swears he could never say no to you if you asked like that all the time.

“very,”

Husband Suguru! who fucks you with a new purpose. each drive of his hips fueling the other to go harder, deeper, to keep pushing his cum inside you and plant his seed deep within. your cunt does a great job at showing Suguru how ecstatic and excited you are with his sudden change of heart. you keep squeezing around him, barely able to keep your sounds in—he fucks you so deeply that the sound of skin to skin is louder than your moans and his groans. when he puts you on all fours, the cum starts to drip out of you but he pushes it back in with two thick fingers, lips pressed to your ass cheek.

“want more?”

“mmm! please,” you whine when he aligns his tips with your folds and fixes your arch with a hand on the small of your back. the gasp that escapes your lips when he fucks into you hard makes Suguru chuckle and he rubs your sides, soothing you.

“no need to beg for it,” he leans down and presses a kiss to your nape. “I’d gladly fill you up.”

Husband Suguru! who stiffens up when you show him the positive pregnancy test. up until this point, he is in control of his emotions—he lets you cry in his arms about how scary all of this was, despite you saying you’ve always wanted a baby. he is supportive, understanding of the heightened emotions that you are experiencing—when he sees your tears turn into happy ones, only half of him is able to relax. clearly, he is nervous but he doesn’t wanna show it. not right now.

The first ultrasound during your pregnancy was nerve racking—your hand squeezed your husband’s as you stared at the screen showing what appeared to be your unborn baby. Very tiny, but still there.

“Okay mom and dad,” the doctor presses the ultrasound transducer a bit lower on your stomach, a small smile on his face. “I got some news for you.”

“Good?” your anxious voice has Suguru rubbing his thumb on the back on your hand.

“It depends, how long have you been trying for this baby?” You couldn’t exactly disclose of your very active sex life, but you do give the doctor hints that it was definitely wanted.

“Well, look over here—“ he points to the screen with his gloved finger, ushering Suguru to come closer. “Look over here dad, what do you see?”

Suguru swallows hard as he stares at the screen in confusion, unsure of what to say. “..a baby?”

“Babies. Congratulations, you’re pregnant with twins.”

Your husband whips his head towards you fast, and you cover your mouth in shock. This wasn’t planned—twins? And for a first time? You didn’t know if the tears streaming down your face were of excitement or fear that maybe you weren’t ready for this.

But Suguru still comforts you, holds you in his arms—tells you that maybe finding out the gender won’t make all of this sound scary anymore. He knew you never really had a preference for gender—you were a natural mom.

However, finding out the gender was an emotional experience for the same man who never thought he would become a father.

Husband Suguru! who tells Satoru to buy the gender reveal cake for you two. he doesn’t want to throw a party, and neither do you. finding out within the privacy of your own home seemed like the best option—you didn’t want to reveal that you were pregnant to any family members—at least not yet.

“Are you ready?” You hold your own glass as you wait for your husband to stand next to you. Your bump wasn’t that evident yet, but signs of pregnancy were starting to show on your body and it brought this warm feeling to Suguru’s body.

“Yeah, hold my hand.” You chuckle slightly at his request but comply either way. Each of you holds their own glass above the cake before looking away as you push it down—you hold your breath, Suguru rests his forehead on your shoulder as he mumbles something about not being able to look at the cake. But you muster up the courage and lift your glass, eyes wide and lips parted in shock.

“Sugu—“ you don’t need to tell him to look, he was already staring at the glass with teary eyes. The pink frosting wasn’t something he was expecting to see—he knew he was going to be happy with either but two little girls? His own baby girls—the thought of being a girl dad brings tears to his eyes and you’re quickly pulling him towards you.

“Oh baby,” you hold back your own tears as you comfort your emotional husband, his arms wrapped around your middle. You hear little sniffles and a hand rubs your back before feeling a pair of lips pressed to your forehead.

“Gonna be the prettiest mom to the prettiest girls. Ever.”   

note: my posts are all self indulgent at this point… enjoy :D

2023: all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

[alexthetrashyracoon]

Simon grinned at himself through the mirror like a stupid teenager in the changing room as Price, god bless this man and his father figure behavior, tugged on his tie to keep it straight and clean.

Wedding Day had come. His wedding day had come.

“Mate, you must be shakin’ with excitement to marry the pretty face.” Gaz grinned from his spot on the couch, all three of them dressed in their best attire. Even Soap hadn’t complained once about wearing a tie.

Simon’s mind wandered to you in the other room, he hadn’t seen you since last night, tradition, that’s what they called it.

He hoped you were having a blast, because you had to spend so many days and nights over the wedding plans that he had to get you to the hospital once after you broke down from exhaustion.

“Anyone ever thought big bad ol’ Ghost gets married?” Soap teased as he rummaged through the drawers at the desk. What exactly was he searching? Simon didn’t know or maybe he was too happy to question his best friend’s motives for now, they usually end in chaos and today was meant no chaos.

“I always believed Simon would find the one true love one day.” Price nodded and patted Simon’s chest, telling him he was done with the tie.

“Liar.” Gaz laughed and shook his head. “If you want to know who always believed in you, Lieutenant, that’s me. Ol’ Captain and MacTavish over here said you would die a virgin. We got a bet running for a while.”

Simon wasn’t even surprised or mad, maybe tomorrow, or the week after. But tonight he wanted to be on Cloud Nine and looking through the pink tinted glasses of love. Tonight he would say ‘yes’ to the person he loved the most, the one that kept him alive and sane and put up with his antics.

“I’m getting married.” He smiled at himself in the mirror.

“You’re getting married, son.” Price looked at him, through the mirror, a proud smile hidden under the beard.

A minute later his phone rang, your name and picture on the screen.

“Yes? Everything alright, darling?” Simon asked and looked at Price, worry flashing behind his brown eyes.

“I’m scared, Simon. I… I know this will sound crazy and you probably think I’m mad. But… I wanna run away.” You say, followed by a shaky breath. “But at the same time I don’t wanna run away but stay and marry you. Does it make sense?”

Simon relaxed immediately, you were nervous, as you should be. Just like him.

“How about this then, darling, we run away together until you know what you want.” He grinned and picked up his suit jacket.

Soap and Gaz were gasping at him.

“Let’s run away together and if you still feel like running, we blew off this party. And if not, we come back, say yes to each other tonight and live our happily ever after.”

Gaz asked if he was insane. Soap was looking between Simon and Price, who simply had the time of his life while opening the door for Simon to leave.

“Are you sure… do you… I mean…?” You started to ramble and mutter under your breath.

“Darling… For you I would go through hell and back. I am not complete without you anymore. There was a time before you, sure. But there will be no time after you. Together.” Simon spoke gently and could see through the phone who your cheeks turned pink and tears pricked your eyes. “I’ll be out in two minutes, don’t let me wait.”

(Spoiler, in the end Simon and you got married surrounded by friends and family. Price lost a bet to Laswell because they both know you two and knew you would pull such a stunt. Soap had gained a few more grey hairs than necessary and Gaz was pretty sure this was some kind of punishment, why else would you two pull something like that.)

[babyleostuff]

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬, 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐬

𝜗𝜚 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄: fluff 𝜗𝜚 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: (sleepy)idol!seungcheol x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 867

⦗💌 ⦘ sleepy choi seungcheol means many things - dramatic, adorable, and very kissable

“and then he straight up left the room,” seungcheol said and nuzzled his head further up your neck, sighing happily as your nails scratched his scalp in all of the right places. “i swear he’s so dramatic sometimes.” 

you hummed in acknowledgment, and brushed your lips over his forehead. “i know someone who’s even more dramatic than seungkwan, y’know?” you smiled at him, the corner of your lips almost reaching your eyes upon seeing your boyfriend’s adorably confused expression.

god, his big eyes and pouty lips would be the death of you someday. 

“who?” he asked, and laid his head against your shoulder. 

you crooked your eyebrow at him, and shook your head in amusement. “it’s cute how you don’t see it. if i had a penny for everytime you were being dramatic i’d be a millionaire now.” 

“i’m not-” 

“yes you are, baby.” 

seungcheol huffed annoyed and peeled himself off you, taking his warmth with him and leaving you shivering like a leaf. he kneeled next to you, and crossed his arms, looking like an angry five year old. cute. “i’m not. give me one instance when i was being dramatic, hm?”.

“i love you so much, choi seungcheol. you’re so adorable.”

if you had to pick your favourite version of your boyfriend the sleepy version would be top three, no questions asked. the hair that was sticking in all possible directions from your scratches, the doe eyes, glossy with sleep looking at you and begging for a hug, strong body that usually made you weak in your knees clad in a cherry pyjama… 

all of this, and now him kneeling next to you, insisting on his life that he was not being dramatic. 

“i love you too, but baby,” he whined, dropping his head to your lap, “i’m not dramatic.” 

“sure, then what would you call what you’re doing now?” 

your boyfriend shook his head, making an even bigger mess of his hair. “you’re so mean sometimes,” he said, as he looked up at you. “i don’t like it. give me my girlfriend back.” 

you rolled your eyes at him. that’s exactly what you meant - one look from him, and you were already regretting all of the thighs you said. 

“okay, okay,” you caved in, and maybe that was for the better, because as much as you loved your pouty boyfriend, you appreciated the smile on his face even more. and now with him winning the “argument” he probably wouldn’t stop smiling even in his sleep. 

not dramatic my ass. 

“you’re such a simp,” he giggled, and threw his whole body back on yours, knocking all air out of your lungs. 

if you had at least one percent chance of pushing this big koala off you, you’d immediately send him flying, but there was no way you could move more than his little toe. but, there was another deadly weapon you could use against him. 

“sure, then no cuddles for you tomorrow. and say goodbye to kissing me,” you said, looking him straight in the eye, just to show him how serious you were about it, and with how quickly his smile disappeared from his face, your mission at getting back at your boyfriend was accomplished. 

“no, no,” he said, gripping your waist tighter, “i was just joking.” 

“sure.” 

“no, i’m really sorry, i,” seungcheol, now panicking, gently angled your head downwards, so he could reach your lips, “please don’t be mad,” he said and ghosted his soft lips over yours. “if you’re a simp then i don’t know what to call myself.” 

you rolled your eyes, but… well, that was very much true. “just kiss me, choi seungcheol,” you breathed, and chased his lips as he pulled his head away from you. 

“under one condition.” 

“huh?” you asked, dizzy from the need to be even closer to him. 

“don't call me that,” he stated, and finally crashed his lips against yours, depriving you from the remains of air that you had. 

you always joked that cheol had this amazing ability to put you to sleep just by one kiss, and he always argued that that was insane and impossible, but… maybe it was the warmth of his arms, maybe it was the safety that his embrace provided, maybe it was his smell that screamed “home” - whatever it was, your joke wasn’t that far from the truth. 

you didn’t realise, though, that you seemed to have a similar effect on him, because when you pulled away, your boyfriend's eyes were even sleepier than before, and his permanent pout was poutier than usual. 

“oh, and there’s one more thing that happened during practice today,” he yawned, and rubbed his eyes, “soonyoung and seokmin-,”.

“why don’t you tell me about it tomorrow?” you kissed his brow, as you felt his head getting heavier and heavier on your shoulder. “let’s sleep for now and talk tomorrow, hm?” 

with his last remains of energy seungcheol nodded, and sunk further under the covers, pulling you with him. it didn’t seem that he was feeling particularly big-spoony tonight, so you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, and kissed the top of his head. 

“night, baby,” you whispered into the darkness.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl @uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot  @iamawkwardandshy  @icyminghao @heeseungthel0ml @goyangiiwonu @bath1lda @ruurooozz @ny0sang @luuxian @onerubii @iamawkwardandshy @hurrican3-insert-nam3 @mekuiikore @luvseungcheol @thenotoriousegg

[monzabee]

short n' sweet (social media au) - op81

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where in an attempt to figure out who Y/N is dating, the internet come up with theories only to realise she is dating none other than Oscar Piastri and chaos ensues.

Pairing: oscar piastri x pop star!reader (model used: sabrina carpenter) (and domingooo)

Warnings: cursing (i think), sabrina carpenter is horny but it's okay we ride with it, feat the internet being the internet, i have a big fat crush on mercello hernandez so you have been warned

Auhtor note: came all this way, had to explain, direct from @percervall; mar this one is for you, i haven't had this much fun in a long time so thank you for indulging my brainrot and excitement😭🫶

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

yourusername

Liked by elleusa, taylorswift, gracieabrams and 3,255,376 others

yourusername: toto, i have a feeling we're not in kansas anymore. short'n sweet cumming to a city near you! first stop: columbus, ohio

user: bro just give me ONE chance

user: SHE'S GORGEOUS ❤️❤️❤️❤️

user: te amo diva

user: don't know if i wanna be with her or i wanna be her

view all 5,594 comments.

user: see you tomorrow pookie

user: cant wait to see u 🫶🏼✨🤍

user: she’s the sweetest & shortest 💋

user: it’s Y/N's world and we’re just living in it😭🤍🤍💋💋💋

user: is he talking about TOTO FUCKING WOLFF??

user: why is f1 everywhere, no she isn't😭

tiktokuser1

caption: bed chem from opening night!!

user: that mic is ON! ✨

user: I LOVE THIS DIVA!!

user: watching this isn’t enough, I have to be there

user: I need that bed.. NEOWWW

user: SHE BETTER BRING THE DAMN TOUR TO AUSTRALIA CAUSE THE FOMO IS CRAZY

user: oh i think she'll be bringing the tour to australia alright

user: what does that mean??

user: what do you know!!

tiktokuser2

caption: YO I DON'T KNOW WHAT IS HAPPENING BUT SHORT N' SWEET TOUR IS THAT GIRL!!

user: 'have you ever tried this one?' ugh her mind😭

user: IS THIS THE NEW NONESENSE OUTRO FOR THIS TOUR I NEED TO KNOW

user: i can't take my eyes off this, i've been staring at it for the past five minutes!

user: okay diva we see you👀

yourusername

Liked by madisonbeer, oscarpiastri, haileybieber and 4,182,928 others

yourusername: hello l.a., are you ready to wrap it up?

user: OSCAR JACK PIASTRI WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?

user: okay who is he and why is he lurking in my diva's likes?

user: MY QUEEN (me typing this while listening to espresso 👀)

user: just a girl living life and making everyone fall in love with her

user: i’m 26 and AFRAID of Y/N Y/LN

view all 7,011 comments.

user: the caption and the last pic with the kittens the vibes don't match i love you😭

yourusername: stoppp, i diee

user: how is this tour like halfway over ????? second leg of tour maybe???? 😭

tiktokuser3

caption: have you ever tried this one?

user: i don't know how she keeps coming up with these

user: imagine having this much freak, i wouldn't be able to leave my house

user: am i the only one who is excited for the last three shows in la??

user: her boyfriend is one lucky guy that's for sure

user: she has a boyfriend??

user: girl who do you think the guy in the white jacket and the thick accent is?

tiktokuser4

caption: omg guys😭😭 domingo is here😭😭

user: CAME ALLL THIS WAAY HAD TO EXPLAAAIN

user: deerect from domingoo

user: okay hear me out... mercello and Y/N??

user: noooo, this crossover is actually too insane i can't handle it

user: look at how he's looking at her bro's down bad😭

tiktokuser5

caption: WE'VE LOST HER TO DOMINGO GUYS

user: somebody call kyle and tell him the good news😭

user: who's kyle?

user: omg do you live under a rock or something?

user: am i the only one who thinks they are not dating?

yourusername

Liked by tiktok, oscarpiastri, marcellohdz and 3,669,817 others

yourusername: LA night 2 ♥️💋 second locationnnn maybe he’s biiii!!! see you tonight for our last show of the US leg :’) how the hell

user: God bless your Dad’s genetics, Domingo

user: OMG DOMINGOOO… “NOW SHES WITH A HOT GUY BUT HE LOOKS GAY, HEARD HIS NAMES DOMINGO”

user: DOMINGO IS CHEATING ON KELSEY

user: no hate to domingo, but oscar jack piastri liked this post under 1 minute😭😭

user: i think we've established that she is probably dating marcello, please stop with the delulu

user: Y/N IM HERE👹

view all 5,179 comments.

user: marcelo hernandez had the opportunity to do the funniest thing ever… and he did

user: the budget for this tour is insane… feels like a literal broadway production

user: came all this way, let her explain deeerect from LA

yourusername

Liked by oscarpiastri, madisonbeer, marcellohdz and 4,928,234 others

yourusername: date night but make it our way tagged: oscarpiastri

user: i'm sorrryyyy, but the dress is giving andie andersonn

yourusername: princess sophia is having some fun tonightt

user: this is still the most mind boggling couple ever BUT YOU LOOK GOOD THO

user: i'm so normal about this, i am sooooo normal about this

user: it's giving ross from friends and i am here for it

user: the best hard launch in the history of hard launches

oscarpiastri: great show, even better after party

yourusername: why did i know you were going to comment this

oscarpiastri: i'm literally sitting right next to you and you saw me type it

user: unhinged gf x calm bf duo is superior and this is the biggest proof ever

view all 6,728 comments.

marcellohdz: but what about domingo...

yourusername: i'm sorry domingo...

user: but is mark webber still alive, MARK ARE YOU THERE

oscarpiastri

Liked by yourusername, landonorris, mclaren and 928,256 others

oscarpiastri: came all this way, had to explain... tagged: yourusername

yourusername: 100% recommend, 5-star service

oscarpiastri: 😐

yourusername: 🥰

user: mister oscar jack piastri god bless your dad's genetics indeed

user: world class driving, world class relationship reveal

landonorris: okay but do we get free concert tickets ooor?

oscarpiastri: 😐

yourusername: of course!

user: this is actually so cute i'm going to throw up

view all 3,156 comments.

user: have you ever tried this one just took a whole other meaning

user: wait, are we going to see them together in las vegas??

user: the hard launching is insaneee

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Little Things He Does

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: tiny bit of smut

He knew that you were one of those girls who appreciated the little things and for whom physical touch was one of the biggest indicators of love.

With that in mind, Lando tries to do as many of those little things every day just to make you happy. Some of those little things he isn’t even aware he is doing that you, of course, notice and which make you love him even more if that's even possible.

For example, when you’re making your way through a crowd and paparazzi is pushing their cameras in your faces. Lando is tightly holding your hand, constantly turning to check if you're okay, keeping you close to him and trying to shield you as much as possible because he knows it’s very much out of your comfort zone.

“You okay, baby?” He asked.

“Yeah, barely..”

“Just hold on tight to me, we’re almost there, okay?” He assured you squeezing your hand.

Or how while you're walking down the sidewalk, he moves you to the other side so that he's closer to the road.

“So anyway, I told her that it's not a problem, she just needs to let me know about such things earlier so that I can organize myself.” You rambled to him about work on your evening run on the streets of Monaco.

Except on your way back to the apartment you didn't run anymore because you were too tired and wanted to tell him what happened at work earlier today.

“Yeah, you did the right thing. You shouldn’t keep quiet about such things.”

“I mean I have a life outside of work too, you know?” You sighed.

“You know you don’t have to work, baby..” Lando said sliding his hand around you waist and almost imperceptibly moving you to the other side away from the road.

“Lan, don’t even start with that again. We already had that conversation.”

He kept his hand on your lower back for a while before putting his arm around your shoulder and pulling you to him.

“Or I can do something for you to go on a maternity leave..” He smirked making you burst out laughing.

Or the way he constantly holds your hand even when he’s talking to somebody and when you try to sneak out of his grip he almost instantly grips you tighter as if you’re going to run away. Or when fans ask him for an autograph, and instead of letting go of your hand, he just switches it from his right to left because he wants you close to him all the time.

Or when he has you underneath him while he’s thrusting into you. When he’s so close he lets you know he’s about to come whispering into your ear.

“Oh yes, yes, Lan, uhh” You close your eyes, your voice coming out in broken moans as he keeps knocking the air out of you.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum” He stuttered whispering before spilling his hot load inside you. He was gasping for air, tingles ran through his body as he buried hos head in your neck riding out his orgasm.

He often tells you “You’re gonna make me cum” as well wanting to remind you that no one can except for you. And you love the way he becomes so vulnerable after he cums.

You could have the dirtiest sex ever the one where he’s spitting into your mouth, choking you, making you gag around him, spanking you and pounding into you like there’s no tomorrow, but once both of you finish he just wants to take care od you and make sure he didn’t take it too far.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks looking down at you and moving your hair out of your face.

“I’m fine, don’t worry” You smiled. “I loved it”

“I love you so much” He whispers spreading small soft kisses all over the side of your neck.

Or when you're in the paddock together and you're both giving interviews at the same time, you're standing a little further away from him but close enough for him to hear what the reporters are questioning you. He doesn't know that you notice how he can't concentrate on the questions they're asking him because he keeps turning his head towards your direction keeping his eyes on you to make sure they're not making you feel uncomfortable. So when the reporter asks him something he just keeps saying "sorry, can you repeat that?"

Or the way that when you're going to some kind of event or even just going out, and you're wearing a short dress or some other kind of risky outfit, he opens the car door for you and stands in front to shield you from the paparazzi until you fix your dress and are ready to step out of the car.

Or the way he always comes to apologize first when you have an argument. Neither of you can stand going to bed fighting, it's not natural for you. It doesn't matter if it's your fault or his, he's always the one who comes first and says "let's not do this".

You weren't even sure how the argument came about, but you found yourself yelling at each other for some stupid reason. You were tired and annoyed because he wasn't listening to what you were saying, he was still stressed from losing the race and you just went off on each other.

He let it take an hour for you both to calm down and give each other some space, but he didn't last much longer than that before he came into the room where you were lying on your shared bed reading a book in the dim light.

He sat next to you on the bed, and you ignored him, not taking your eyes off the book. He then gently took the book from your hands and moved even closer to you taking your cheeks between his palms.

"Let's not do this, okay? I feel bad for yelling and I'm sorry about that." He says caressing your cheek with his thumb. "I don't like when we're fighting and when we can't talk things out."

You remain silent for a few seconds to swallow the tears that have gathered in your eyes. "I don't like it either. I overreacted and I'm sorry too." Your voice cracked and the tears started to roll down your cheeks.

"Baby, hey, there's no reason to cry." He said pulling you to him and kissing the side of your head.

"Sorry, I just feel so bad right now because I know you still feel bad about the race and I feel like I didn't give you enough support and comfort but I just took it out on you for nothing."

"It's okay, baby, being with you now is the only comfort I need."

Or that one time when Lando met a little fan in the paddock who asked him about you.

"Is that your girlfriend?" The little boy asked pointing his finger towards you. You weren't with them but talking to some other fan further away from the two of them.

Lando looked in the direction the boy was pointing and nodded. "Yeah, that's y/n, my girlfriend." He said and the little boy giggled. "What?" Lando chuckled.

"She's pretty." The boy said and Lando couldn't hide his ear-to-ear grin.

He looked towards you again and said "I know, right? The prettiest."

Or the way he kisses you on the cheek. There's something about the way he does it. It just feels so special when he comes up from behind you, wraps his arms around you, pulls you to his chest and presses his lips to your cheek. Or when you're watching TV on the couch and you're lying between his legs leaning against him and every now and then he leans his head down to leave a soft kiss on your cheek.

Lando knows that you don't like too much PDA, especially in front of your friends. You're not a fan of kissing in front of them and Lando respects that, but still manages to steal a kiss on the cheek even in front of them.

Or the way when both of your are in the kitchen and you're trying to reach something from the top shelf and he does it for you before you even get to ask him to.

Or the way he keeps snapping pictures of you when you're not looking.

Or the way he keeps a funny picture of you as his wallpaper.

Or the way he looks at you as you happily jump and sing along when he surprises you by taking you to your favorite concert. He is so fulfilled when you are happy, and that is exactly all he needs, you being happy.

Or the way he talks about you in interviews.

"I live a pretty fast-paced life and I tend to put myself under a lot of pressure. Then there's the pressure of being constantly in the public eye as well. Always on the move, training a lot, it often gets to a point where it just becomes too much, you know? It tends to be very overwhelming and exhausting, but all of that disappears the second I come home to her. She makes all of my worries go away and reminds me of what's really important in life. She always puts me back on track. I couldn't do it without her."

All those little things that he does are anything but little to you.

[darnell-la]

𝗜'𝗟𝗟 𝗚𝗜𝗩𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧

pairing: old man!logan howlett x young female!reader

warnings: staring, rude people in public, Logan with no emotion, begging, oral (male receiving), riding, doggy, neck kisses, slightly forced cream pie, multiple orgasm, moans from both sides, very rough sex, angry animalistic Logan, etc.

request: Hi! I love your work, Could I request Oldman!Logan x young fem!reader (22 years) that has a baby fever and really wants to have Logan's baby (also to shut the mouths of those who make fun of her dating an older man), she decides to prepare a surprise for him so that he can get her pregnant soon. Reader is needy and Logan is rude.

note: Logan as always is mean and an over-thinker, but he can’t seem to not give what his perfect girl wants. A breeding session.

teaser - Logan gets kinda subby in here. can’t stop cumming…

———

How do you guys feel about an X-Men story with the reader? Logan is rude Logan at first, then slowly shows small affection towards the reader. Jealousy and things of that sort. They soon hit it off, and after Logan starts acting rude again because he’s scared of the love he grew for her. It’ll be a long story, but something to read at night. ALL ON WATTPAD! Comment below, please!

———

“Stop gettin’ in your feelings, Bub. They ain’t gon stop,” Logan said, talking about the people looking their way in the expensive restaurant Logan decided to take y/n out at.

“But, isn’t it rude? Why do they care so much about who I’m with? Or who you’re with!?” Y/n tried whispering and keeping her facial expressions normal. She didn’t want them to know she was bothered, but it wasn’t hard to see.

“Just relax, Bub — Ain’t nun gon happen with a few eyes lookin’ attcha,” Logan had picked up the menu to continue searching through what he wanted to order for himself and his girl.

“Are you two ready, or shall you get more time?” The man asked in an accent that made Logan roll his eyes. “Just appetizers for now. Gonna get the cheese bites with a side of marinara sauce, and two Caesar salads,”

“And drinks?” The waiter asked as he looked at y/n, wanting to hear the young lady talk as he was done listening to the older grumpy man.

“I’ll have a whiskey, no ice, and she’ll have water for now,” Logan ordered for her, eyes still on the menu as y/n faked a bright smile on her face so at least one of them looked like they wanted to be here.

“Are you sure that’s all you want? We have a lot of cocktails. Even mocktails if you’re not feeling alcohol going lady,” Logan laughed at the small sign the water gave. They always go.

“She’s fine, trust me,” Logan said, leaning his girl from head to toe. He knew her like a book. He knew her life at the back of his hands. He loved showing it too.

“I’m fine, thank you,” y/n smiled at the man as he looked at Logan. He wanted to speak, say something, but he couldn’t. Logan wasn’t actually doing anything to make the man complain.

“Get a load of that guy,” y/n rolled her eyes as he walked off. “Yep,” Logan said, not really caring. “Why are you always so calm? He was disrespecting us. Disrespecting you,” y/n said, confused about why the man never cared.

“I’m still alive, aren’t I? You’re making it seem like that fetus of a man shot at me,” y/n rolled her eyes and sat back as she crossed her arms, upset at the lack of care Logan had. She felt like she was the only one who cared about things.

Throughout the night, Logan made small talk with y/n to ease her mood. She tried to stay upset at the man, but the hand grabs, foot nudges, and complements made her melt

“Said you had a surprise for me, Bub?” Logan asked as the two made it into the hotel that Logan bought for the night. The top floor had a good view, a view he knew y/n would love.

“Yeah, but I thought we were going back to the house,” y/n pouted, a bit tipsy as Logan carried her through the door. “I know, and I apologize, princess. If you left it at the house, you can give it to me tomorrow. Or I can go get it now?” Logan suggested.

“No, no, you don’t have to do all that. I-I got it. I got it,” Y/n said as she kicked her heels off and walked towards the bed with Logan.

He had a few drinks, but that never affected him. She prayed it would tonight so she wouldn’t have to work hard, but she’ll deal with it.

Y/n knows Logan’s a hard one to crack, but the man loved her. He’s so anything for her, so a long session of begging or anything of that sort, would make him crack. Only for her.

“Get comfortable — I’ll be back,” Y/n said as she stumbled to the bathroom. Logan chuckled as he got undressed, already knowing y/n wanted to have sex. She always does, and he never says no.

Y/n didn’t take long to get stripped and walk out of the bathroom slowly. The lights were dim, and Logan sat up against the headboard of the bed, legs spread and waiting for his perfect girl.

“I-I know you’re against it, and I know you always shut me down, but tonight is special. I-I really, really want you tonight,” Y/n said, slowly crawling on the bed as Logan’s chest rose.

“You always get me, Bub, so what’s there to beg about?” Logan said as he rubbed his thighs. “I want you to cum in me,” y/n looked at him with those eyes he could barely say no to.

“Y/n, don’t start tonight. Ian tryna ruin the night,” Logan has rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Baby, please,” y/n begged, trailing her hands up his legs until they were mid-thigh.

“Keep beggin’ for that shit, and ima turn around and go to sleep,” Logan warned the girl, but she ignored him and put his cock in her hand. “C’mon, daddy, please,” y/n said, bringing out the word she used in once in a blue moon.

“Nah uh, get off, y/n. I told you what was gonna happen-“ Before he could finish, y/n wrapped her wet mouth around his tip, sucking down hard as her tongue moved up and down his slit.

“F-Fuck,” Logan’s legs shook as he gripped the sheets. “Y/n, remove your fucking mouth,” Logan demanded, but she ignored him, looking into his angry dark eyes as she slipped down onto his cock, taking all the inches in that she could.

“Y-Y/n!” The man groaned loudly, hips bucking as his hand went to her hair, pulling her up to get her off, but not strong enough. He was physically stronger than her, so she knew if he wanted her off, he’d get her off.

“Fuckin- Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ bad,” Logan said as his other hand cupped her cheek. “But you take my cock so well,” Logan admitted with a chuckle as he slowly began moving her head at a pace he wanted her to suck in.

“Always so fuckin’ needy — Needy little slut can’t just enjoy my cock. Always needs my cum to satisfy her,” Logan said, now moving his hips, allowing his cock to thrust up into her throat.

“That’s it, kid — Fuckin’ suck me up since you want it so bad. You ain’t gettin’ it in that cunt. You ain’t earn it yet,” Logan said, watching spit spill from her mouth.

Y/n did her best to look up and into his eyes. Her was glossy, streaming tears as he grew dark. He couldn’t hold back his deep groan at the sight of her taking his cock like this.

“Don’t fuckin’ look at me like that,” Logan said, getting angry at her. He hated how bad she was, but loved that she’d do anything to get what she wanted from him.

“Fuckin’ brat,” Logan growled, snapping his hips faster to make her gag and cough on his cock. Maybe if she was too busy trying to focus on taking him, she’d stop silently begging for him to breed her.

It’s not like the man didn’t want to. He was just insecure. Yeah, he and y/n had been dating for a while, but the people roaming about are right. At least that’s what he thought at the time.

What if he is too old for her? He’d basically be baby-trapping her if he gave her what she wanted. He swore she’d regret it.

He forced himself to think that way, but every time y/n took his cock, rather that was with her mouth, cunt, ass, or anything, she’s beg him to breed her. Something in him knew she wanted it, but the other part held him back.

“Fuck, y/n, stop it! Stop fucking looking at me like that!” Logan shouted at the girl, an animalistic tone slipping out as he fucked her throat.

Y/n didn’t stop. She continued, whether her eyes could barely stay on him or not, she kept looking up at him, begging him to breed her.

“Y/n, I can’t — I fucking can’t,” the man had thrown his head back, whining as he felt himself near. He’s me we did that before, but him trying to yell her no but also seeing her beg, was too much for him. He was overstimulated by his thoughts.

Y/n slapped Logan’s hands off of him and quickly crawled onto him. She grabbed his cock and aligned herself with him before sitting down.

The moan that escaped her mouth made his eyes widen. “F-Fuck, kid, stop it!” Logan said, but his hands came to her waist and kept her in place. She tried to bounce, but he didn’t even allow her to do that.

Logan’s feel curled as his fingernails dug into her sides, causing her to feel in pain, but also pleasure. “Do it, daddy, please,” was all had to say on his cock before he jumped over the edge.

Logan’s mouth parted as his whole body stuttered. No noises came from his mouth for a second as y/n felt his warm seed coat her walls.

“Yes! Yes, daddy, yes!” Y/n cried out with happiness before she buried her face into the crook of his neck, sucking into his skin hard. That pulled all of his groans and moans out.

Logan’s hands wrapped around the girl's back and waist, pulling her into his body as she grinned against his pelvis, letting her swollen bud feel all the affection it needed.

“Please, more, Logan. Please. Please,” y/n continued rubbing against him as her whole body felt numb. She was going to cum, and Logan knew it. Damn her.

“Fuck, kid — F-Fuck,” Logan’s legs kicked as he tried keeping himself in, but he couldn’t. She squeezed him so hard for him not to do what she’d been begging for, for the longest.

“Y/n,” Logan’s voice cracked as his nails broke the skin on the young girl's back and waist. “Yes, yes!” Y/n almost cried as her body kicked up and she came, sucking the man too hard. To damn hard.

Logan’s mouth parted once again as his eyes crossed, feeling too much pleasure as he spilled into y/n for the second time and took the love bites y/n gave him on his neck.

Logan was pissed. He was so damn pissed at y/n for not listening to him. He wanted to punish her, but how? How could he after he bred her? He wouldn’t be able to pull out. And fuck a condom. He was fucked. He broke the promise he kept to himself. He really fucking loves her to let her do this to him.

“You’re so fuckin’ bad, y/n,” Logan breathed out into y/n’s ear, alarming her. He wasn’t relaxed. He was angry. “You like gettin’ what you want?” The man asked as he slowly lifted y/n off of him. She was being held in the air.

“Then ima give you what you fucking want,” before y/n knew what he meant, the man flipped the two, allowing him to hover over her.

“S-Sorry, I just- I really needed you. I-I love you so much, and I-I — I want you to give me a baby. I-If you don’t want it, I-I’ll just take the plan b tomorrow. I promise,” y/n couldn’t stop stuttering.

She felt a slight fear. She knew how Logan got, and now that he’d already come in her, he’d be worse.

“Fuck that plan b. You wanna baby? Then deal with the fucking consequences,” Logan turned y/n around and forced her onto her hands and knees. Before she could process anything, he plunged into her.

“Fuuck!” Y/n screamed at the new angle and the hard thrust. “Shut the fuck up, and take it,” the man groaned as a hand came down on her ass. “Take my fuckin’ kid, since you wasn’t em so damn bad,” he added.

Y/n cried into the sheets, thinking he couldn’t fuck her hard until his claws came out. He’d never done this before, but she knew what he was up to.

The man’s claws punched into the wall right in front of the two. He gripped tightly, making sure he wasn’t going anywhere before he pounded her into the mattress.

The young girl's neck and back belt pain. He was breaking her and didn’t care. She wanted this.

“Lot,” y/n whined, not being able to say what she had to say. She was beyond fucked. “Don’t worry, Bub — You’re gonna make a damn good mom,” Logan said, making sure she knew he was up for this.

Y/n slightly smiled as her cunt quivered, finally letting out another orgasm as her eyes closed. “S-So good,” she said as she slipped away. “I know, baby — I know,” the man growled.

Logan never stopped his thrust, making sure she’d feel the soreness when she woke up. And the loads he was going to leave in her.

[no-144444]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sounds like you have it all. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you need your makeup touched up?”

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

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

“Fuck!” You groaned. “Fuck this.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bullshit.

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

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

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

Oh. I guess it changed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the worst part was that nobody noticed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n.”

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

Oh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

“Have you eaten?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lando was entranced. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I feel like shit-”

“We all do. Let’s go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Knock knock. 

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

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

You sat up, staring at him. 

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

You nodded. “Good luck today.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” he breathed out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe,” you shrugged. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your best isn’t good enough.”

And he hung up.

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

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

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

Well, apparently not. 

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

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

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

“Tell her to piss off!”

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

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

“What?” he groaned, opening the door. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lando nodded. 

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

“What did Y/n say?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do,” you chuckled. 

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

The perfect night. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then you walked back to Ferrari. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes!” you agreed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t waste time. 

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

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

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

“Morning?” she answered groggily. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know.”

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Apparently not. 

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

He nodded. It was enough to fool him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re beautiful,” Lando’s whisper made you jump. You turned to see him, standing there behind you. “The album’s beautiful.”

You scoffed. “The album’s an album. What was beautiful was us,” you sighed. “Thank you for coming.”

He nodded, leaning against the barrier beside you. “Do you even wish our lives weren’t as complicated as they are?”

You chuckled. “More than anything.”

“We were beautiful,” he shook his head, trying to remember why he ever ruined the best thing in his life. “If you ever find yourself wanting to love me again, just… call me?”

You nodded, looking at him. “I will.”

He nodded, putting his hand on your shoulder and letting it sit there for a split-second, just to remind him of what it was like to touch you. Just to remind himself that once, he didn’t have to wonder if you loved him, to remind him of the unwavering support you gave him, to remind him of how his whole world came crashing down when he made you leave it. “I love you,” he whispered before walking to the door. 

His phone started ringing in his pocket as he got back inside. Unknown number. He answered it. 

“I think I want to love you again,” he could hear your smile through the phone and he immediately whipped around, his smile growing as he got closer to you. When he stood in front of you again, you both took the phones down and smiled at each other.

Lando didn’t waste time. He closed the gap between you two in one simple stride, wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed his lips to yours. “I love you so much,” he pulled back. “I’m never letting you go again.”

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

landonorris

1,488,928 likes | liked by oscarpiastri, y/ny/l/n, and others

love of my life. @ y/ny/l/n

comments

user28: WHAT THE FUCK THEY BROKE UP MONTHS AGO THO????-> user92: they were seen kissing at her launch party

y/ny/l/n: who's that pretty girl? -> oscarpiastri: she's too good for him -> landonorris: >:( -> oscarpiastri: hurt her again and I push you off the track. ->carlossainz: I second this -> charleslecerc: I third this -> alexalbon: I fourth this -> georgerussell: I fifth this.

georgerussell: Trying to beat me with no shirt?

lewishamilton: Yay! (I begged her not to take you back you asshole). -> pierregasly: Yay! (I'm trying to be supportive of her).

lilymhe: fuck off. ->user83: LMAO -> user18: DAMN EVERYONE HATES HIM

danielriccardo: HAHAHAHAHAH (I'm crying.)

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

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[carnalcrows]

BREAKING THE RULES - NAMGYU

pairing: ftm namgyu x guard! top! male reader

synopsis: Nam-gyu makes life even harder in the games; and he makes sure you know it.

content warnings: 18+, slightly ooc namgyu, thanos doesn't exist here, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, mentions of pregnancy, breeding, squirting, creampie.

word count: 1.9k

Nam-gyu was a menace. Not in a violent way—no, he wasn’t the type to throw punches or scheme behind people's backs. He was just loud. Chaotic. Endlessly pushing his luck in ways that made your job infinitely harder.

You, one of the masked guards, had the misfortune of being assigned to watch over him.

“Oh, come on, do you really have to stand so close?” Nam-gyu whined, sprawled out on the cold metal bunk, looking up at you with an exaggerated pout. “You’re like my own personal shadow. It’s creepy.”

You didn’t respond. Guards weren’t supposed to talk to the players.

But Nam-gyu? He didn’t give a fuck about rules.

“Are you at least hot under that mask?” he continued, squinting up at you. “Tall, broad, mysterious—what’s under there? A secret K-drama heartthrob?”

Your lips twitched under the mask, but you stayed silent.

Then he gasped. “Wait, what if you’re ugly? Oh my god, what if you’re, like, a forty-year-old uncle with bad skin?”

You exhaled sharply, already regretting what you were about to do. “Shut up and sleep.”

Nam-gyu sat up so fast he nearly smacked his head on the bunk above. “Ohhh? He speaks! And—wait, wait, that was deep—oh my god, are you hot?”

You turned away, cursing yourself.

“Wait, at least tell me if you’re single!” he whisper-yelled.

Despite the life-or-death situation, Nam-gyu never stopped flirting with you.

During the games, when most players were drenched in sweat and panic, he still managed to shoot you little smirks like this was all some messed-up dating show.

After a particularly brutal round, he was doubled over, panting, hands on his knees. But even then, he looked up at you, grinning through the exhaustion.

“If I survive this, you owe me a date.”

“You’re not supposed to talk to me,” you reminded him.

His grin widened. “And yet… you keep answering.”

The first time you really broke the rules was when you caught him wandering the hallways after curfew.

You found him leaning casually against the wall like he wasn’t committing a punishable offense.

“You know you’re not supposed to be out,” you sighed, arms crossed.

“Oops,” he said, not looking the least bit sorry. “Guess I got lost. You're gonna punish me?”

Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing. The way he leaned in slightly, the way his voice dropped lower—it was all intentional.

“Get back to your room before someone sees,” you ordered, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck.

Nam-gyu tilted his head. “You gonna carry me there, big guy?”

You groaned, grabbing his arm and dragging him back to the dorms. He didn’t resist. If anything, he definitely enjoyed it.

One night, during your usual patrol, his voice whispered through the dark.

“Psst. Guard dude. Come here.”

Against your better judgment, you stepped closer to his bunk. “What?”

“You’re my favorite guard,” he murmured, a lazy grin on his lips.

“I’m the only guard who tolerates you,” you corrected.

“Exactly,” he chuckled. “That means something.”

Then, his fingers ghosted over your gloved hand. A barely-there touch.

“If I die tomorrow,” he said softly, voice losing its usual playfulness, “I just want you to know—I totally had a crush on you.”

Your heart pounded harder than it should have.

At some point, you gave in.

Maybe it was the stress. Maybe it was the fact that Nam-gyu was so damn persistent. But you found yourself alone with him in a supply closet one night.

“This is so against the rules,” you muttered, hands gripping his waist as he smirked up at you.

“Then why haven’t you stopped me?” he teased, breath warm against your mask.

You exhaled sharply. “Because you won’t shut up otherwise.”

“Ohhh, so this is how you make me quiet?” he grinned, fingers trailing over your chest. “Noted.”

The moment was charged, the air thick with something neither of you wanted to name. Nam-gyu was pressed against the shelves of the dimly lit supply closet, his breath uneven as he stared up at you with that maddening smirk.

"You gonna stand there all night, big guy?" he murmured, voice teasing but breathy. "Or are you actually gonna do something?"

Your grip on his waist tightened involuntarily. This was reckless—so reckless—but Nam-gyu had spent days, weeks even, pushing you to this point. Testing your patience, pulling you into his orbit, and now that he had you where he wanted you, he wasn’t about to let go.

You exhaled sharply, then tilted his chin up with two fingers. His smirk faltered, replaced by something else—anticipation, maybe.

And then you kissed him.

Nam-gyu let out a surprised noise before melting into it, arms sliding up to grip your shoulders. His lips were warm and eager, moving against yours with a desperation that made your head spin. He kissed like he talked—relentlessly, all-consuming, like he wanted to prove something.

You didn’t let him.

Instead, you took control, deepening the kiss, pressing him further against the shelves. A soft gasp escaped him when your fingers dug into his waist, grounding him. His hands fisted in your uniform, pulling you closer, as if there was any space left between you.

"You’re—so unfair," he mumbled between kisses, voice slightly dazed.

"You talk too much," you muttered, capturing his lips again before he could come up with another snarky remark.

Nam-gyu didn’t fight it. If anything, he clung to you even more, tilting his head to give you better access. His breath hitched when your hands roamed lower, fingers pressing into the curve of his back, holding him steady against you.

The heat between you was overwhelming, the danger of getting caught only making it worse. But neither of you cared. Not when he was sighing into your mouth, not when his fingers tangled in your hair, not when the world outside this little room ceased to exist.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless. Nam-gyu blinked up at you, lips swollen, cheeks flushed. He looked entirely too pleased with himself.

"You’re really bad at following rules," he murmured, voice thick with amusement.

You exhaled, resting your forehead against his. "And you’re really bad at shutting up."

Nam-gyu grinned. "Guess we make a good team, then."

And somehow, you knew there was no going back.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and way too heated for your own good, he chuckled.

“You’re really bad at following rules,” he teased, straightening his uniform.

You adjusted your mask, trying to calm your racing heart. “And you’re really bad at shutting up.”

“Guess we make a good team, then.”

You should’ve been worried. You should’ve been more careful. But when Nam-gyu looked at you like that—like you were the only thing keeping him sane in this nightmare—you knew there was no going back.

The next morning, you tried to pretend nothing had happened.

You stood at your usual post, arms crossed, mask in place, as if Nam-gyu hadn’t kissed you breathless in a supply closet.

But he wasn’t about to let you forget. Oh no.

He sauntered into the cafeteria, stretching his arms dramatically.

“Man, I had the craziest dream last night,” he said, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.

You tensed.

“So there I was, trapped in a tiny room with this huge guy,” Nam-gyu continued, resting his chin in his palm. “And let me tell you—he had strong hands. Held me real tight, y’know?”

You clenched your fists.

The other players gave him a weird look. “Uh… what kinda dream was that?”

Nam-gyu sighed, all fake wistfulness. “A good one.” Then, without looking at you, he added, “Shame it was just a dream.”

You walked out, shaking your head.

That night, you found him again where he wasn’t supposed to be—this time, loitering near the guard dorms.

“You want to get caught, don’t you?” you sighed, grabbing his arm.

“Maybe,” he grinned, stepping closer. “Or maybe I just wanted to see you.”

You tried to ignore the way your pulse jumped. “You’re reckless.”

“And you’re obsessed with following rules,” he teased, tilting his head. “Except when it comes to me.”

You really should’ve pushed him away. Instead, you backed him against the wall.

“Go back to your room,” you ordered, voice low.

“Make me,” he whispered.

And oh, you did.

Your hands slammed against the wall on either side of Nam-gyu’s head, caging him in. His breath hitched, but that damn smirk never left his face. He thrived off this—the tension, the danger, the way you always swore you wouldn’t fall for his games but did anyway.

“Say that again,” you murmured, your voice dropping into something dangerously low.

Nam-gyu’s lashes fluttered, and for the first time, a flicker of nervous excitement crossed his face. But he was never one to back down. “Make me,” he repeated, this time softer, more breathless.

Your patience snapped.

Your lips crashed against his, claiming him in a kiss that was anything but gentle. Nam-gyu gasped, his fingers instantly tangling in your uniform, gripping the fabric like he needed to steady himself. You could feel his heartbeat hammering against your own, his chest rising and falling in short, shallow breaths as you pressed even closer.

He tasted like trouble, and you had never wanted anything more.

Nam-gyu let out a muffled whimper as your hand slid down to his waist, pulling him flush against you. He was so much smaller than you, but he didn’t shy away—if anything, he leaned in, arching slightly as if daring you to take more.

Your hands trailed to the hem of his sweats, tugging them and his boxers down to reveal– his pussy? You certainly didn’t expect that.

“See– I probably should’ve mentioned this earlier but–”

You silenced him with another kiss, deeper this time, your hands gripping his hips hard enough to bruise. His breath hitched when your teeth grazed his bottom lip, his body trembling against you.

Hastily pulling your own pants down, you pulled out your erection– aligning it with his cunt. Common sense had gone too far out the window now– you were too horny to care.

Before he could say anything, you sheathed yourself inside of him with one swift thrust– making his head hit the wall behind him. He gasped– and you used the opportunity to press your lips to his once more, preventing him from making any of those pretty noises (which you so desperately wanted to hear– but it was too dangerous now).

You pulled out of his cunt almost all the way before slamming back in– the head of your cock almost entering his cervix. His back arched– hands gripping tightly onto your shoulders.

You thrusted in and out of him at an almost animalistic pace– being pent up for so long certainly had its advantages.

You buried your head in the crook of his neck– and used the hand that wasn’t holding him up to cover his mouth– muffling his whimpers and moans, almost divine music to your ears.

Without warning– he climaxed, squirting all over your cock and the front of your uniform. Seeing him come undone did it for you– and you released soon after– pressing into him with such ferociousness and painting his insides a pearly white that he was sure he was going to get pregnant.

After a solid minute– you slowly pulled out of him, still keeping him upright. His head sagged onto your shoulder, the exhaustion getting to his head.

The sudden sound of approaching footsteps made you freeze.

The door to the small room opened– and outside was none other than Square Guard 001.

You were fucked.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

[ditzydoe444]

thinking about mean jason who has a love-hate relationship with reader nd fucks her dumb on his fat cock after a nightly patrol — getting all his frustrations out😻😻 .

god i need him.

MDNI 18+

mean jason! x reader

jason todd smut

you and jason weren’t officially together but were also hooking up. despite that, it was a love-hate relationship, jason said that you were too demanding at times, and clingy, whilst you told jason he was the opposite. he was too cold and not emotionally available when you wanted him to be.

it was well past the middle of the night, where jason had just returned back from his nightly patrol due to the slam of the front door. “look who decided to finally come back,” you retorted, crossing your arms across your chest. you knew jason’s schedule all too well, and you also knew that due to the rocky relationship the two of you were in, it also meant that he would stay out longer in patrol just to stay away from you.

“save your commentaries for tomorrow morning, i’m not in the mood right now.” he grumbled. of course he wasn’t. he was never in the mood to discuss the weird relationship that you two had. “i just think it’s unfair that you go and disappear in the middle of the night when your patrol is over”, he immediately cut you off by standing right in front of you. his tall frame towered over yours.

“you better shut that pretty little mouth of yours, or i’ll do it myself,” he narrowed his eyes. you always had an issue of being a bit of a brat, and jason never tolerated it. stubbornly, you tilted your chin up, refusing to back down. “i think the issue is that you can’t handle my attitude,” you raised a brow.

jason let out a low chuckle, “trust me sweetheart, i can very very well handle your attitude.” he stepped closer, caging you in like a predator. “so you better shut that pretty mouth of yours before i fuck it myself, stuffing it full will keep your mind occupied from being a brat.”

**

and god did he keep you occupied. you were currently sprawled out on the couch, your legs on top of his shoulders whilst his fat cock bullied your cunt. “the only way to keep your mouth shut is to fuck this pretty little hole huh?” he grunted, his thrusts never faltering one bit. “such a fucking slut.”

your mind had gone blank, jason had always fucked you dumb. he always fucked both your mouth, cunt and ass, making sure they were filled with his cum. essentially he would just cum all over you. “all you do is whine and get fucked like a whore,” he groaned, his large hands gripping your waist tightly. “whilst i do all the hard work, going on patrol, working and earning money for you.”

one of his hands went up, towards your neck gently squeezing the sides. “all you do is just sit back, relax and get fucked like a slut, seems quite unfair don’t ya think darlin?” jason looked at you expectantly, but you couldn’t even think properly, giving occasional whines and moans. you were fucked dumb.

“what was that? no more smart retorts from you huh?” he grinned, his thrusts were now deeper, moving the couch across the side of the living room. you were nothing but a whimpering mess, your whole clenching on him like a lifeline. you were at his mercy, his use to use and fuck as he wishes.

your mind was blank, all you could even think about was how much you loved this. how much you loved him, and his fat dick. “come on sweetheart, i’m sure you can think of something to say. you were talking so much before,” he teased. though you really couldn’t think, “i l-love this,” you whined, you loved every part of this. his cock bullying your tight cunt, and god how you looked forward to him fucking your mouth and ass.

he grinned. “i love this too, having you all to myself, mine to love, mine to fuck.”

you were close, so fucking close.

“j-jay,” you whined, gripping his bicep for dear life. you were so close, and you knew it wouldn’t be your last orgasm. jason always fucked you until you were completely limp, giving you at least a few more orgasms. two were child’s play for him.

the moment he pinched your clit, you came and came hard. you squirted. covering his cock in your slick, where some even went to his pubes. “there you go,” he grinned, “coming on my cock like a pretty little princess,” he cooed. “now, you better hold on sweetheart, because i don’t plan on stopping.”

[quarterlifekitty]

I feel that after the first baby, it just further fuels these men's need to breed, so how quickly are they trying to get reader to have another baby/how long does it take to secure Baby 2: The Sequel? Do they use the same methods as the first time or do they switch it up? I imagine they're waiting just until reader is cleared by the doc to start trying again. Sorry if this is weird

Don’t ever apologize for being who you are. It is us freaks that are the cultural backbone of society.

It depends a lot on you! Like, baby one is obviously the hardest sell. Usually if mama liked baby one then baby two is not a hard sell at all if the means are available! But I think they do vary a lot on the in between period.

Uhmmm author’s note now that I finished this: I am so sorry I did you first, Gaz. Because I clearly just got progressively more insane and you suffered from first pancake here. No one look at me I’m ovulating rn

cw: pregnancy. So much baby.

Gaz wants like 1 year of baby one before moving onto baby 2. Enough to get used to things. Then, he will gently broach the baby 2 topic. Starts heavy with the compliments.

“He’s just so perfect. Having a baby with you has been like a dream come true, love. But you know what’s better than one baby?”

Soap is gonna wait til one of the development milestones, either speech or assisted walking. Truly, he wasn’t sure that he even wanted another one, but once your baby starts talking he’s like oh my god. It’s all happening too quickly. Tomorrow I’ll be sending him off to college. I need another one.

“Don’t ye think he’s a bit… lonely, hen? Think he needs a little sibling… Maybe two. And, well, ye dinnae want there to be a middle child, so, four total should do it, right, bonnie?”

Ghost is going for a 4-6 year gap. I think you all underestimate just how much he loves your first baby. Light of his life. Never thought there could be something in this world as beautiful as you. Perfection incarnate. How is it just? That he should be such a bastard for his whole life and get blessed with this? He mourns every moment he misses. Thinks about quitting the service altogether— just to spend more time at home. He never felt the itch to come home from deployment before he met you, and now that there’s the baby too, it’s agonizing. Every photo sent to him from you is equal parts soothing and torturous. Every time he has to leave, he says sternly to his baby, “you’d better not be any bigger when I get back, sweet’art, or you’re in big trouble.” It’s when she starts going off to school, getting dropped off for the whole day, that he’s ready for another. Be just can’t bear the thought of coming home on leave and not having a baby to spend every second with. He’ll cry if he has to drop her off at school every day without another little rugrat in his arms to keep him strong.

“Must be gettin’ bored— little darlin’ off at school all day…Think I’ve got a solution for that, dovie.”

Price is the man that’s waiting for the doctor’s go ahead to start trying for another. He wants one in your belly, one on your hip, and one clutching at your skirts at all times. He wants to be covered in munchkins when he walks through the front door. This man doesn’t just want a family, he wants a clan.

“Just the three of us in this big house…. Seems like a waste, doesn’t it? And I remember that wallpaper you fancied at the shops the other day… perfect for another nursery, don’t you think?”

König is waiting 2-4 years. He is another man who has complete and total reverence for the miracle that is his first child. I like to imagine he felt such giddiness at seeing your baby photos, now that he has his own? It’s nothing short of euphoria. He’s a papoose kind of dad— loves the constant contact. Similar to Soap, he has a complete crisis when his baby takes her first steps. “What if one day, she doesn’t need me anymore? Gott in himmel— it’s all happening too quickly, meine liebe.” So he’s quite eager to have another once you’re both feeling settled and a bit more confident with the first.

“You are a wonderful mother, you know. I knew you would be. I think… we can handle one more, ja?”

Nikolai has a sort of que sera mentality. Whatever will be, will be. Of course he would love a big family, but he won’t be tracking your cycles after the first baby. He’s confident in his virility. Will you go on birth control? No. Will he be pulling out? Also no (mostly. Sometimes a pretty girl needs a pearl necklace). So if you get pregnant again straight away— lovely. If it takes another year or so for things to line up that way, that’s fine too. More time for him to think of names. He’s not a greedy man, he knows that having you in one arm and your baby in another is a wealth most men will not know in their entire lifetimes, and he has a lot of life yet to live.

“A gift that begets more gifts. That’s what you are, malyshka. I’ll not forget that for as long as I live.”

[stevieschrodinger]

“I’m just saying it’s manipulative.”

“Manipulative? Eddie you can’t be serious.”

“I am, now, where’s the dish? It’s got to be around here somewhere.”

“Maybe in this box, clearly labelled ‘kitchen’?” Dustin snarks, “and I don’t see how you can say behaving in a way that’s been dictated by your very biology is...manipulative. That’s not fair, man.”

Eddie digs in the box, bringing out the baking dish he wants, and then heads back into the kitchen, swerving around clutter and open boxes as he goes, “yeah, I get that a lot of Omega act the way they do because of what they are, alright. I get that, I do. But all this...kind of, 'oh my oh my, can’t the big Alpha come and save me...I just need looking after and...and protecting'. And I get that it works, a lot of Alphas eat that shit right up, I’m just not one of them.” Eddie bangs around in the kitchen fixing Wayne’s famous corned beef hash casserole, “it’s just not for me, you know? I don’t want someone who’s just going to do as they’re told and roll over on everything, I want someone who is equal, not someone who wants looking after all the time. I will not be loosing my head over any Omega, no matter how pretty they are.”

“So you...wouldn’t look after your Omega?” Dustin squints at him.

“Firstly, not happening, not ever, I’m sticking to Beta’s and that is final...but, I mean, yeah, of course I’d look after my partner, but I’d do that for anyone. I don’t want this hormone driven need to...to I don’t know. It’s just not for me Henderson, okay? Now help me with the books.”

Dustin whines, “but there’s like, fifty million of them...and I still don’t agree that it’s manipulative. They’re just...playing to their strengths, or whatever.”

“Right, so an Omega bats their eyelashes and every Alpha in sniffing distance is falling over themselves to do whatever the Omega wants, and that’s not manipulative?”

“Welllll…no, especially since it only works because of the Alphas in the first place, if it’s anyone fault, it’s the Alphas, right?”

“Fucking...just shut up Henderson.”

Eddie’s just put their plates on the table when there’s a knock at the door, “I’m not waiting,” Dustin sits down and starts shoveling, and Eddie mutters curses all the way to the door, he’s absolutely starving-

“Hi, I am so sorry,” it’s an Omega. A ridiculously pretty one. A very, very pregnant one. “I’m from next door,” the very very pretty Omega is on tip toes, trying to look over Eddie’s shoulder. He’s clutching a plate to his chest, “I know you’ve just moved in and, again, I am so so sorry about this, but is there any chance I could try what you’re cooking? Please?”

He smells so good. Even better than a regular Omega; Eddie’s sure it’s because he’s pupped, probably some biological bullshit about protecting pups and whatever. But still, he’s...he’s cute, standing there with his plate, sniffing after Eddie’s cooking.

“I could smell it in the hall. It could just be the tiniest bit, but I just would really like to try it, I’m so sorry for interrupting your dinner but-”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Eddie says, taking the guys plate, “just hang there a second.” Eddie goes and...well, if he fills the plate of what was going to be tomorrows dinner, no one needs to know. Eddie might have opinions on gender, but he’s not a dick. The guy is very pregnant, plus he was being super polite about it. He even brought his own plate.

It’s another human being, pregnant and hungry; Eddie would do the same to help anyone out. This is absolutely nothing to do with the guy being the prettiest Omega Eddie’s ever seen in real life.

Eddie delivers the plate back, “oh my goodness,” oh okay, that’s adorable. Eddie’s pretty sure he’s never heard anyone say ‘oh my goodness’ in real life, like, ever. “Thank you so so much, is there anything I can do? I can contribute to the ingredients or-” and that’s when Eddie figures that not only is the guy very pretty, he’s actually a reasonable human being too, lots of people wouldn’t have even thought about that sort of thing.

“No, we’re good just, ah, let me know what you think.”

“I will, I will,” the guy is saying as he turns to leave, carefully carrying his laden plate. He’s big enough that he’s kind of waddling, and Eddie watches him long enough to see him go into the next apartment along the hall.

Eddie shuts the door, turning back to find Dustin watching him, both eyebrows raised, a very accusatory look on his face, “oh shut the fuck up.”

“Just let me know what you think,” Dustin mimics back, like a little bitch.

Part Two

[theonottsbxtch]

I LOVED YOU FIRST PT3 | FC43

part one | part two |

an: this is the most requested part three. i fell asleep so many times writing this but i’m waiting for tate’s new song so it gave me something to do. not proof read.

wc: 8.3k

It was nearly dawn when Franco turned off the engine, but the silence felt hollow. He sat motionless in the cockpit of his car, his hands still gripping the wheel even though he had finished his lap over an hour ago. The empty track stretched before him, a stark grey line splitting the waking sky, and for a fleeting moment, he considered taking off down it one more time, just for the noise.

That had been the only reason he'd even bothered coming out this morning. Noise. Anything loud enough to cut through the thick numbness that had settled over his life the last two years. Even racing—his childhood dream, his only real thrill—felt distant, just another repetition in an endless loop of things he used to care about.

He let go of the wheel, his fingers stiff and aching, and slumped back into his seat. The inside of the car still smelled new, though he’d driven this car all season. But everything in his life felt new in the wrong way, like he was breaking in someone else's skin.

Franco closed his eyes, but there was no escape there either. As much as he tried to avoid it, the image still came easily: two years ago, his wedding day. The hushed gasp of the guests as he had walked back down the aisle alone, the weight of his father-in-law’s hand on his shoulder. And her eyes—his childhood best friend, his first love, his confession to her still raw in his throat. He'd bared his heart, thought he was finally doing the right thing, only to watch her turn him down, her gaze steady and unwavering.

It was strange how clearly he could remember it. She had moved on. He was too late.

And yet here he was, two years later, sitting in the emptiness his choices had carved out. His marriage was the result of the aftermath—inevitable, unstoppable, once her father had coerced him into making it right. He’d been a fool to think he could live with it, that he could somehow build a life out of that hollowed-out choice. But every day he woke up, and every day it was the same. A stranger beside him, a public charade. He was trapped in a marriage more binding than he had ever imagined, one that had closed off any other life he might have had.

A tap on the side of the car startled him out of his thoughts. His agent, Eddie, looked at him expectantly, his face creased with concern. Franco forced himself to meet his gaze, pulling on a blank expression he’d perfected over the last two years.

"You good, man?" Eddie's voice sounded so distant for some reason.

Franco forced a nod. “Just getting in some practice.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. "You finished over an hour ago."

Franco shrugged, not offering any other excuse. What could he say? That he no longer felt the rush, that even the raw thrill of racing at 200 miles per hour left him feeling nothing? It would be admitting too much. He wasn’t sure he could handle what Eddie would say if he knew.

As he finally climbed out of the car, his gaze drifted toward the track, that endless stretch of asphalt, and for just a second, he felt a flicker of what it used to mean to him. Freedom, purpose, maybe even love. But that had been before her—before he had thrown it all away, thinking he could have her back. And now all he was left with was this: the shadow of a life he hadn’t chosen, the memory of a love that had been real once, and a future he couldn’t bring himself to face.

Franco shook his head, stuffing the thought away. "Let’s just get through today" he muttered to himself, the words a quiet vow.

Tomorrow, he’d put on the act again.

The house was silent when Franco walked in. He closed the door softly, slipping off his shoes out of habit rather than any real desire to keep the peace. She was there, sitting in the dimly lit living room, curled on one end of the couch with her legs tucked under her. A book lay open on her lap, though her eyes weren’t moving over the words.

They hadn’t spoken much in days, maybe even weeks, except for the occasional small-talk exchange over morning coffee or at some public event. When they were alone, it was as if they were two strangers who’d agreed on a routine. She looked up as he walked in, and he wondered if she was waiting for him to speak first.

But he didn’t. He simply nodded, moving past her as if it were just another evening in this quiet, loveless house. He heard her shift, a quick intake of breath, and he paused, feeling her eyes on his back.

“I cheated,” she said, her voice flat, almost as if it were a statement she’d practised a thousand times, something she needed to let out before it grew stale.

Franco slowly turned to face her, letting the words settle, though he didn’t feel anything sharp or raw. Instead, there was just the dull, familiar weight of something like resignation. He studied her face, waiting for the anger or betrayal to come, but there was nothing. Just the same emptiness that had been there for two years.

“Okay,” he said, his voice calm, resigned.

She blinked, her expression faltering. “Okay?” she repeated, as if she hadn’t expected that response. Her brow furrowed, and she set her book aside, sitting up straighter. “That’s it? Just… okay?”

He shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets. “What do you want me to do about it? You’ve already done it.”

She searched his face, a flicker of frustration and hurt sparking in her eyes. “Why aren’t you angry, Franco?” Her voice was louder now, cracking slightly. “Why don’t you care? Why don’t you… love me? What did I do wrong?”

For the first time that evening, he felt something stir. Not anger, exactly, but a kind of distant ache. He looked at her—really looked at her—and saw the exhaustion in her face, the years of pretending, of building a life on a foundation that had never been real. And he knew, somehow, that she felt as trapped as he did.

“This isn’t about what you did wrong,” he said quietly. “I just… I don’t have it in me to love you, not in the way you want.”

She shook her head, her eyes brimming with frustration. “But we were supposed to be in this together. My father… Your team. The whole world expects it. I have tried, Franco. I’ve done everything I could to make this work. I just wanted you to see me, to try…”

He sighed, looking away. “We’ve been pretending for two years. It’s not that I haven’t seen you—I just don’t think we were ever meant to see each other this way.”

Her shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of her. She stared at her hands, twisted together in her lap. “So what now? We just keep living like this, sharing the same house, putting on a show for everyone?”

Franco didn’t have an answer for her. He didn’t know what they were supposed to do, what the next step would even look like. They were bound together by more than their vows—by the expectations, the pressure, the image of a life neither of them had chosen. He knew she deserved better than this emptiness, the hollow echo of what might have been.

After a moment, he sat down across from her, resting his elbows on his knees, his voice barely more than a whisper. “What do you want from me?”

She looked away, biting her lip, and for the first time he saw the loneliness in her eyes. "I don’t know," she murmured, her voice quiet. "I don’t know if I ever knew."

She looked down, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater, and then let out a long, quiet breath. "I’ll speak to my father," she said, her voice steady. “We’ll break it off. There’s… someone else. For me, I mean.”

Franco nodded, feeling only a strange sort of relief. “Okay.”

She gave a small, sad smile, as if she’d expected more—anger, maybe, or regret. “I’ll make sure he keeps the sponsors on your team,” she added, her voice softening. “It’s the least I can do.”

Franco shook his head. “He doesn’t have to. I don’t want you worrying about that.”

For a moment, she looked at him with something almost like sympathy. “Franco… it’s not your fault,” she said.

He frowned slightly, unsure what she meant. “What isn’t?”

She looked away, gathering her thoughts, and then back at him, her gaze unwavering. “It’s not your fault you still love her after all these years. Some things… they just don’t go away.”

His throat tightened, and he couldn’t find the words to respond. Her words hung between them, exposing something he’d tried to bury, something he hadn’t even admitted to himself. His silence was answer enough.

“She was a very lovely woman when I met her,” she continued, her voice softer, almost wistful. “I’m sure she hasn’t changed. I’m sure you two would be perfect together.”

He looked down, swallowing the ache in his chest. For all their distance, she’d seen more of him than he’d realised, even if they had never truly belonged to each other. Maybe she’d known all along. Maybe that’s why they’d been drifting from the beginning, like two people playing their parts, waiting for the script to finally run out.

He stood up, running a hand over the back of his neck, his voice low. “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.”

She nodded, her eyes full of an understanding that somehow made this harder. “Okay. Goodnight, Franco.”

He gave her a brief nod, then turned and headed down the hall, his footsteps soft against the hardwood. The walls of the house felt like a cage, closing in with every step, but he knew that maybe, for the first time, there was a way out—for both of them.

Franco closed the door to the guest room, feeling the weight of everything settling over him. He felt like a visitor in his own life, just as he had every day for the past two years. He slipped off his watch, set it on the nightstand, and reached for his phone to set an alarm.

Just as he did, his mother’s name lit up the screen. She called him every night, their routine barely wavering since he’d left home all those years ago to chase his dream. He answered, feeling a bit of the tension ease from his shoulders.

“Hey, Mama.”

“Oh, finally, you picked up! I thought I’d missed you tonight, hijo.” she said, her voice bright and warm, filling the room with a bit of comfort he hadn’t known he needed.

“Sorry. It’s been… a long day,” he replied, not sure where to start even if he’d wanted to.

“Oh, mi amor, I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, sympathy lacing her voice. She paused, her tone shifting to something lighter. “Well, you’ll never guess who I ran into today.”

He smiled slightly, settling back against the pillows. “Knowing you, mama, it could be anyone.”

“You flatter me,” she laughed. “But no, this one you’ll want to hear. I ran into your chiquita's mama at the market this morning.”

At the mention of his childhood best friend, Franco’s heart gave a small, involuntary jolt. He kept his voice casual, though he could feel his pulse quicken. “Oh yeah?”

“Guess who’s moving back home?” she said, her voice bright with excitement. “She’s coming back without that boyfriend of hers—what was his name, Angelo or something? Anyway, I don’t know what happened there, but her mama didn’t say much, just that she’ll be moving back in soon.”

Franco fell silent, her words sinking in. She was moving back. Back to the same town, back to where they’d both grown up. It was strange hearing it now, after all this time—especially tonight. He tried to imagine her there, close by, after years of being nothing more than a memory, a lingering ache. She hadn’t been in touch since his wedding. They hadn’t spoken, not really, since that day he’d confessed everything.

“Franco?” his mother asked, her voice pulling him back. “You still there?”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, I’m here. Just… surprised, I guess.”

“Well, I thought you’d be pleased to know,” she said gently. “I don’t know why she’s moving back, and I suppose it’s none of my business, but I hope she’s doing alright. I always liked that girl.”

“Me too,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

He wondered what could have happened to bring her back. She’d seemed happy, at least in the few times he’d seen her in the public eye over the last two years—smiling, vibrant, that spark still in her. Whatever had drawn her back, he doubted it was anything good.

“Anyway, I just thought I’d tell you,” his mother went on, a hint of cheer in her voice. “I’m sure you’ll see her around when she’s back. Goodness knows you two could catch up. I’ll let you get some sleep, though. You sound tired, love.”

“I am,” he said honestly. “Thanks, mama.”

“Goodnight, mi amor,” she said softly. “Try not to worry so much. Things have a way of working out.”

He hung up, setting the phone down on the nightstand, but his mind kept circling back to her, the unanswered questions piling up. Why was she moving home? Why now, after everything?

He lay back, staring at the ceiling, feeling the quiet gnaw at him. For the first time in a long while, he felt something stirring beneath the emptiness—something that he hadn’t let himself feel since that day two years ago. A flicker of hope, of curiosity. And maybe, just maybe, the faintest hint of longing.

Franco woke up to an unsettling silence the following morning. The kind that felt thick, heavy, and somehow different from the usual quiet he’d grown accustomed to in this house. He rubbed his eyes, groggy, his mind still tangled in the remnants of last night’s conversation with his mother. She was moving back home. The thought had settled somewhere deep, like a stone sinking to the bottom of his chest, and he hadn’t stopped wondering why she’d come back.

He rose slowly, crossing the hall toward the master bedroom to grab his things, but as he reached the door, he noticed it was open just a crack. There was an odd stillness inside, an emptiness. Pushing the door open fully, he froze.

The wardrobes were wide open, their shelves bare, nothing left but empty hangers. He scanned the room, taking in the strange absence of her things: the jewellery stand, her perfumes, even the photos from the dresser—all gone.

On the bed, her wedding band glinted in the morning light, sitting atop a folded sheet of paper. Heart pounding, Franco walked over and picked up the note, her familiar handwriting scrawled across the page in clean, deliberate strokes.

"Go live a life you’ll enjoy. Go get the girl."

He read the words over and over, the reality slowly sinking in. She had really left. It was over, finally—no more strained conversations, no more pretences, no more empty rooms they shared out of duty. She had made the choice for both of them, letting him go in a way neither of them had been able to until now.

He let out a slow, deep breath, feeling a strange mixture of relief and regret. She had given him a way out, but he felt a twinge of sadness for the life they’d tried and failed to build, and for the woman who’d known him well enough to let him go.

After a moment, he picked up his phone and scrolled to his agent’s number. It rang twice before Eddie answered, his voice thick with sleep.

“Franco? It’s barely morning. You okay?”

Franco ran a hand through his hair, still processing everything. “Yeah. Listen, Eddie, I need you to book me a flight.”

“A flight? Where are you going?”

“Home. To Argentina.” He paused, and for the first time in two years, the words felt right. “I just need to go home.”

Eddie hesitated on the other end. “You sure about this?”

“Yes. I’ll figure everything out when I get there,” Franco replied, feeling a resolve he hadn’t felt in years.

Eddie sighed, but there was something like approval in his voice. “Alright, I’ll get it sorted. You’ll be on a plane by tonight.”

“Thank you, Eddie.” Franco hung up, glancing around the room one last time. He pocketed her note, her words still echoing in his mind.

True to Eddie's word, Franco was on a flight six hours later. The journey was a blur of cramped seats, stale air, and the faint taste of regret that clung to the back of his throat. The turbulence was relentless, like some cosmic joke, as if the universe itself wanted to remind him that nothing had ever been easy. He tried to sleep, but the aching pull of everything he’d left behind in that house—his marriage, his choices, his dreams—kept him awake, staring out at the dark sky, thinking of all the roads that had led him here.

By the time he landed in Buenos Aires and caught a car for the long drive north to his family's old village, the exhaustion had crept under his skin, weighing him down like a thousand unspoken words. But the quiet beauty of the countryside—the sun setting over fields that stretched on forever—started to soothe him, even if just a little.

The car ride seemed endless, every minute dragging with the weight of his thoughts. But when the familiar sight of his family’s village finally came into view—cobblestone streets, thatched roofs, the scent of freshly baked bread hanging in the air—something inside Franco began to shift. The city felt miles away, the noise, the crowds, the weight of his past life all falling away as he crossed into the place that had always felt like home.

The moment he stepped through the door of his childhood house, all of that exhaustion seemed to vanish. The house was exactly as he remembered it—warm, full of life, and alive with the kind of energy he hadn't felt in so long. His mother’s soft humming from the kitchen filled the air, the scent of her cooking familiar and comforting in a way nothing else ever had been.

“Mama?” he called, stepping into the kitchen.

She looked up from the stove, a warm smile spreading across her face as she caught sight of him. It was like the years had slipped away in an instant, and before he could even move, she was across the room, enveloping him in her arms.

“Oh, hijo,” she said, pulling him in tight. “You’re home. You’re really home.”

Franco closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling the comforting smells of garlic and simmering stew. It was the same as it had always been. His mother’s embrace felt like a balm, her steady, familiar presence filling up the spaces in his chest that had been empty for so long. He let himself relax into the hug, feeling like he could finally breathe again.

“Yeah, mama,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m home.”

She pulled back, looking at him with concern now, her gaze soft but knowing. “You look like you’ve been through a storm. What happened, Franco?”

He shook his head, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “It’s… been a hot minute.”

She stepped back, eyes still lingering on him as she turned toward the counter, gesturing for him to sit. "Come, sit. You must be starving."

As he slid into the chair at the table, his mother’s eyes flickered to his left hand, where the ring had once sat. The absence of it didn’t go unnoticed.

"Franco," she said softly, her voice delicate but insistent, “Where’s your wedding ring?”

He froze, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the spot where the band had once been. The question hit him harder than he expected, like a weight on his chest.

He took a deep breath, his words coming out slow, almost reluctant. "I… I never loved her, Mama. Not like I should’ve. Not like I should’ve loved the person I married."

His mother didn’t flinch, didn’t offer a shocked look or try to comfort him with false reassurances. Instead, she simply nodded, as if she had known all along. The silence between them was calm, understanding.

"I knew," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "I knew from the start, Franco. I could see it. You were never... you were never right with her."

He exhaled, a small weight lifting from his chest. His mother didn’t judge him. She hadn’t expected him to make some fairy tale of a marriage. She had always known him better than anyone.

"Why didn’t you say something?" he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it.

She smiled softly, her hand brushing his cheek. "You had to learn it on your own, cariño. I couldn’t take that from you."

He sat back in his chair, letting her words sink in. This was home. The quiet understanding, the unconditional love. The very things he had been running from for so long. And now, in this moment, he felt like he was finally allowed to come back to it.

His mother leaned in, brushing the hair from his forehead as if he were still that little boy who had left for the big city years ago. "You’ll be alright, Franco. I know you will. You always find your way back."

He smiled, his heart full, and reached across the table to squeeze her hand. "Thanks, Mama," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I think I’m ready to find it now."

His mother studied him for a moment, as if weighing whether to say more. The comfortable silence stretched between them before she finally spoke, her voice casual, but with a slight undercurrent of something he couldn’t quite place.

“You know, she moved back this morning,” she said, a soft note of curiosity in her tone.

Franco looked up sharply, his stomach tightening at the mention of her. “She did?”

His mother nodded, stirring a pot on the stove. He shifted in his seat, trying to steady the flutter of emotions that were beginning to rise in his chest. She was back. The thought of her living just next door made his heart ache in ways he wasn’t prepared for, especially after everything that had happened. It felt like a sign, but it also felt like a question—one he didn’t know if he was ready to answer.

“I don’t know what’s happened,” he said, the words coming out quieter than he intended. “But I’m sure it’s for the best. She’s probably just trying to figure things out.”

His mother gave him a thoughtful look before turning back to the stove. "It’s not easy, you know. Coming back here after all those years. Maybe she just needs some time. Things haven't been easy for her, either."

Franco nodded absently, his mind already racing, a thousand thoughts flooding his mind. He’d always wondered what it would be like if they were close again—if the years between them could just vanish, and they could pick up where they left off. But that was before everything had changed.

Before he’d made a mess of everything.

“I’ll give her space,” he said after a long pause. “She clearly needs it if she’s come back home. I don’t want to crowd her, not like this.”

His mother looked at him for a long moment, her gaze soft and full of the kind of love only a mother could offer. She didn’t press, but Franco could tell she was seeing more in him than he was letting on. She always had that way of reading him, even when he didn’t want to be read.

“I think that’s wise, Franco,” she said quietly. “But don’t wait too long. Sometimes, the right things—people—can slip away if we don’t take the chance when we can.” She gave him a small smile, her eyes gentle but full of a mother’s wisdom. “Don’t make the same mistake twice.”

He swallowed hard, looking down at his hands. The right things... people. Was she talking about her?

He wasn’t sure. What he was sure of was that he had already lost so much—lost the girl he had once called his best friend. His true love. That much was clear.

But he couldn’t make the same mistake again. Not with her. Not now.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I won’t. I’ll give her the time she needs… and then, I’ll figure out what comes next.” He forced a small smile, looking back up at her. “But first, I think I need to settle in here, Mama. Just for a bit.”

She smiled warmly at him, nodding as she moved to set the table. “Take your time, cariño. You’ve earned it.” Then she added softly, almost to herself, “And when you’re ready, you know where she is.”

Franco nodded, the weight of her words hanging in the air like a promise he wasn’t sure he was ready to make. He had to sort through the years of distance, the pain, the confusion, and the mess he had made before he could even think of approaching her again.

That night the house was quiet as Franco prepared for bed, the kind of quiet that settled deep into the bones. The weight of the day’s emotions, of the journey—of everything—pressed on him like a physical force, but he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was still missing.

He stood in front of the mirror, his eyes scanning the reflection—a man who hadn’t truly looked at himself in a long time. His face was a little more worn, the years of racing and the strain of the past two had carved lines into his features. And yet, there was a boy in those eyes too—the one who used to laugh freely, who used to dream of more than just what life had given him.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, the quiet ache of the past two years swirling in his chest again. Where did it all go wrong? He’d asked himself this so many times, but the answer had never been clear. His life had seemed like it was on track, until it suddenly wasn’t. Until it all came crashing down, leaving him here, in his childhood home, looking at a version of himself he didn’t recognise.

Where did it all go to shit?

He turned away from the mirror, needing a moment of peace, a change of scenery. The night air felt crisp as he stepped out onto the balcony, the soft night breeze brushing against his skin. The village was quiet, the distant sound of crickets filling the silence. The stars above him were impossibly bright, as if they had been waiting for him to step out into this space to show themselves.

For a moment, he just stood there, taking it all in. The vast sky, the deep silence, the comfort of being home, of being away from all the chaos of the life he’d left behind. He closed his eyes for a beat, letting himself breathe.

Then, he froze.

From across the yard, on the roof of the house next door, a figure was sitting—her silhouette outlined by the soft glow of the stars.

Franco didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there. The sight of her—after all these years—was like a jolt to the chest, a flood of old memories and emotions crashing over him.

At first, he considered turning back into the house, pretending he hadn’t seen her, pretending the universe wasn’t trying to push him into a conversation he wasn’t ready for. But his feet stayed rooted to the ground, his eyes locked on her figure, so familiar, so her. He hadn’t expected to see her tonight, especially not like this. Not sitting on the roof, in the same place they used to sit together as kids, watching the stars and talking about everything and nothing.

He had no idea how to approach her.

Before he could make up his mind, she spoke, her voice drifting through the night air, quiet but unmistakable. “Staring’s rude, you know.”

Franco’s breath caught in his throat, his chest tightening at the sound of her voice. It had been so long since he’d heard it, and yet it felt like no time had passed at all.

He stayed where he was, still unsure, a little frozen by the way his heart was racing. “I didn’t think you’d notice,” he finally said, his voice coming out quieter than he intended.

She tilted her head slightly, but didn’t look directly at him. “I always notice,” she replied, a faint smile playing on her lips, though her tone was more playful than anything else.

He let out a small laugh, a bit surprised by her nonchalance. It was just like her to act so casual, even in the middle of something heavy.

“I wasn’t planning to interrupt,” he added, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Just thought I'd leave you to it."

She didn’t respond right away, but he could see the way her gaze flickered toward him, though she didn’t move. After a beat, she spoke again, her voice quieter now. “You came home.”

“I did,” he said, his heart racing as he stood there, not knowing where to go from here. “Took me a while, but I’m here.”

She nodded, the soft rustle of her hair catching the starlight. "Good. I didn’t think you would."

Franco swallowed, the weight of the unspoken words hanging thick between them. "I... didn’t think I would either."

There was another pause, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just... heavy, in a way that felt like they were both waiting for something. Waiting for the moment when they could go back to being what they once were. But Franco knew, deep down, that it wasn’t going to be that simple. Too much had happened between them, too many years spent apart.

Her voice broke the quiet, her words soft but inviting. “There’s space next to me. You should come up here.”

Franco hesitated for a second longer, unsure, but something in her tone, a subtle pull, urged him forward. He glanced around briefly before deciding to take a chance.

Carefully, he climbed over the small stone wall dividing their balconies, his fingers finding familiar purchase as he pulled himself over. The moment his feet hit the roof, the memories of their childhood came rushing back—sitting on the very same roof, talking about everything and nothing, watching the stars as if they were the only two people in the world.

It felt surreal, like no time had passed at all, even though everything between them had changed.

She was already sitting cross-legged, her back turned slightly toward him, but she patted the spot next to her, silently urging him to join her. He moved toward her, then sat down, the cool roof beneath him grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected.

When he finally reached the top, she shifted to make room, and before he even fully settled beside her, she was resting her head on his shoulder. It was as natural as breathing, a comfort he hadn’t realised he’d been starved for.

The night seemed to stretch on forever as they sat together, not speaking, just sharing the same space, the same memories that lingered between them like a soft, delicate thread. It was as though the silence held all the things they couldn’t say out loud.

Finally, it was her who broke the quiet, her voice low and tinged with regret. “Sorry I never replied to your letter.”

Franco’s heart stuttered in his chest at the mention of the letter. He hadn’t expected her to bring it up, not after everything that had happened. Slowly, he turned his head to look at her, his voice barely a whisper. “You... you received it?”

She nodded slowly, lifting her head from his shoulder but not fully pulling away. She stared up at the stars, her fingers absentmindedly tracing shapes in the air. “Four days ago,” she said, her voice soft and distant, as though the words were hard to say.

Four days ago.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. The letter. The letter he’d written years ago, before everything spiralled out of control, before the wedding, before he called it all off. The letter where he had laid bare his feelings for her—telling her everything he’d never had the courage to say before. Telling her that he loved her. That he’d leave his fiancé for her. That he wanted to be with her.

The letter had been the final step, the desperate confession that he couldn’t hold inside any longer.

“I… I didn’t know,” Franco muttered, his throat tight. “I sent it because I thought you needed to know. I thought you needed to hear it.” He paused, looking down at his hands. “I didn’t expect you to just—ignore it.”

Her breath hitched slightly, and she looked over at him, her eyes meeting his with an intensity that made him ache. “I didn’t ignore it,” she said softly. “I didn’t know about it. Angelo hid it from me.”

Franco froze. Angelo. The same guy she’d been with all those years, the one who had kept the letter from her. The weight of it hit him hard, a cold knot in his stomach. “He hid it?” His voice barely came out above a whisper.

She nodded, her eyes not leaving his. “I only found it four days ago when I was packing.” She paused, as though weighing whether or not to say more, then sighed. “He kept it from me, Franco. Told me it was nothing, just some silly thing from the past. But it wasn’t nothing. It was you. It was everything you were trying to say. And I didn’t even know until hours before your wedding.”

Franco could feel his chest tighten, the words he had written, the words that had been locked inside of him for so long, echoing in the space between them. He had no idea she’d never received it. No idea she had been living in that oblivion, thinking that nothing had changed when, in reality, everything had been laid out for her years ago.

Franco closed his eyes, the weight of her words settling over him. His entire life had been built around the lies he’d told himself, and in the end, he had only hurt the one person who had always been there for him.

When he opened his eyes again, he was staring at the sky, the stars so far away. “I never stopped loving you,” he said quietly, the confession falling from his lips before he could stop it. “I never stopped thinking about you, even when I thought I should. Even when I tried to move on, I always... always thought about you. About Monza.”

Her voice was soft but steady, a quiet confession in the night air. “I shouldn’t have come to that wedding,” she said, her words hanging in the space between them like a breath held too long.

Franco blinked, his heart stuttering slightly in his chest as he turned to look at her. “Why?”

She sighed, her eyes focused on the distant horizon, her expression unreadable in the soft glow of the moon. “Because I thought I was over you, Franco. I really did. I thought that seeing you get married to someone else, someone who wasn’t me, would help me move on. But when I watched you declare your love for me in front of everyone... it hit me all at once. I felt like I was coasting through a lie with Angelo for two years.”

Franco’s chest tightened at the mention of Angelo again, but he didn’t interrupt. He knew this was something that had been simmering beneath the surface for a long time, something they had never really spoken about. She took a slow breath, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt as she spoke again.

“I couldn’t give him all of me,” she continued, her voice wavering for the first time, just the slightest crack in her calm demeanour. “When you still had half my heart.”

Franco felt a lump form in his throat at her words. She still loved him. Despite everything, despite the time apart, despite the man she had been with, a part of her had never truly moved on.

He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t find the right words to express the swirl of emotions inside him. The guilt, the confusion, the longing. All he could do was listen, his heart aching with each word she spoke.

“Amor…” His voice faltered, and he cleared his throat, trying to find his grounding. “She cheated on me. My wife.” He added as though she needed clarification.

Her head jerked up, her eyes wide with surprise, but she said nothing. She waited for him to continue, her breath catching in her throat.

Franco stared out at the stars, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t feel much at first. I think I expected it. In some way, I always did. I’d been living in a marriage where I wasn’t really present for a long time.” He paused, his eyes distant as he recalled the feeling of his world unravelling. “But... when I found out, I couldn’t feel anything. It was like I had already shut myself off from it all.”

She studied him, her gaze soft but piercing. “Really? You didn’t feel... anything?”

Franco’s heart twisted, “I felt guilty,” he admitted, his voice low. "I didn’t feel hurt or anger. I just felt... guilty."

She frowned, the confusion and concern evident in her eyes. “Guilty? Why? You didn’t cheat. You weren’t the one betraying her.”

Franco chuckled bitterly, a hollow sound that felt foreign to him. “No, I didn’t cheat. But I’ve been mentally cheating on her for years now.” His voice cracked slightly, the admission slipping out before he could stop it. “With you. I’ve been thinking about you. Wanting you. Wondering... what could have been.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she stared at him for a long moment, the weight of his confession hanging between them like an invisible force. The air was thick, heavy with the things they hadn’t said, the things they had both buried for too long.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the distant rustle of the trees, the wind whispering through the leaves. Then, she shifted slightly, her fingers brushing against his, tentative, like she wasn’t sure if it was okay to reach out. But Franco didn’t pull away. He let her fingers weave through his, and for a moment, they were back to the way they used to be—close, without words, just a connection that had never truly faded.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking the silence again. “I didn’t mean to make things more complicated for you. I never wanted you to feel guilty.”

Franco shook his head, his fingers tightening around hers. “You didn’t. It’s my fault. I should’ve been honest with myself. With you. With everyone.”

Her hand found his, her grip soft but reassuring. “We can’t undo the past, Franco. But maybe... maybe we can stop running from it.” She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face for something—maybe a sign that they were on the same page, that this wasn’t just a momentary lapse, but the beginning of something else.

Franco’s heart skipped a beat. The ache inside him—this pull, this longing—felt more real now than it ever had before. But he couldn’t let himself get lost in it. Not yet. Not before he figured out what came next.

“Maybe,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Maybe we can.”

But for now, they stayed there, hand in hand, watching the stars as the night stretched on—together, but not quite ready to bridge the distance between them. The future was uncertain, but in that moment, with her close to him again, it felt like the possibility of a new beginning was still there.

And maybe that was enough.

She shifted slightly, pulling her knees closer to her chest as she stared up at the night sky, the stars scattered above them like little pieces of a puzzle they couldn’t quite put together. Her voice broke the quiet again, this time more introspective, tinged with a kind of sadness that Franco couldn’t shake. “Why are we like this?” she asked softly, the question hanging in the air between them. “Why can’t we ever get it right? Why does it feel like we keep missing each other?”

Franco felt a lump form in his throat as he turned his head to look at her. He had no answer. No easy explanation for the years of missed opportunities, the broken promises, the things left unsaid. All he could do was let the silence stretch for a moment before he spoke, his voice thick with regret.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said, his words barely audible, but full of the weight of everything he had kept buried for so long.

Her hand tightened around his, her fingers warm and steady against his skin. She didn’t look at him immediately. She just stared at the stars, letting the night take them both in. But when she did speak, her voice was clear, almost a little too sharp, as if she were trying to distance herself from the ache inside.

“I know,” she said, her words simple, yet filled with the unspoken truth between them.

Franco exhaled slowly, his chest tight with the unrelenting guilt that seemed to follow him wherever he went. “I really don’t,” he added, his tone heavier this time, the words more raw, like they were scraping against his very soul.

She turned her head slightly, her eyes soft but steady as she met his gaze. “But you’ll always have me anyway,” she said, her voice gentle, almost a whisper, but strong in its promise. “All of me. Even if you think you don’t deserve it, even if you feel like you’ve lost me, I’m still here. I always will be.”

Franco closed his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to reach out and pull her into him, to hold on to the promise she was offering, but he knew that he had to fix everything first. He had to prove to himself, to her, that he was worthy.

After a long moment, his mind shifted, a question bubbling up to the surface, something that had been nagging at him for a while now. “What happened to Angelo?” he asked, his voice quiet, but urgent with curiosity.

Her gaze flickered away, her expression becoming unreadable for a brief second. She didn’t speak at first, but then, she sighed, her voice small as she turned her head back toward the night sky.

“He proposed,” she said softly, her words hitting Franco like a punch to the gut. “He got down on one knee, right there in the middle of a restaurant, and asked me to marry him.”

Franco’s heart sank. He had imagined the two of them together, but hearing her speak those words, hearing the finality in her tone, made something inside him shift. His breath caught in his throat.

“And you didn’t say yes,” he whispered, the realisation washing over him slowly, painfully.

She shook her head, her fingers grazing the edge of her sleeve as she gathered her thoughts. “I couldn’t bring myself to say yes,” she murmured, her voice distant, like the memory still held weight over her. “I couldn’t lie to him, and I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. Not after everything. I just... I couldn’t. And when I looked at him, I knew something wasn’t right. I knew that the whole time, I had been lying to both of us, pretending that he was enough when I wasn’t even sure of myself.”

Franco felt his chest tighten, his heart aching with understanding. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. He wasn’t sure if he was apologising for Angelo, for her, or for himself, but it felt like the right thing to say. “I’m sorry for everything.”

She didn’t respond right away. She just sat there beside him, her head back on his shoulder, her fingers still twined with his. The night stretched on, both of them lost in their own thoughts, but there was something in the air that felt different now. It wasn’t just the weight of their shared history or the unsaid words that hovered between them. There was something else.

Something that, for the first time, felt like the beginning of something new.

After a while, she spoke again, her voice barely audible. “I never wanted to hurt him. But I couldn’t pretend anymore. Not when you’re still here, not when you’ve always been here, Franco.”

Franco closed his eyes, his fingers tracing the curve of her hand. “I understand,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure if he did. He wasn’t sure of anything right now except that he needed to make it right—whatever that looked like.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, the quiet stretching between them, neither of them in a rush to break the stillness. The night air was cool against their skin, and the stars above seemed to twinkle with the same quiet understanding that hung in the air. For the first time in years, it felt like they were both exactly where they were meant to be—together.

But slowly, the rhythm of her breathing changed, softening, slowing. Franco felt it before he saw it, the gentle shift in the weight on his shoulder. He glanced down, his heart softening at the sight of her—her lashes fluttering closed, her face serene and peaceful in sleep. She was completely relaxed, as if the weight of everything had been lifted, even if just for a moment.

He didn’t move, didn’t want to disturb the quiet that had settled between them. But as minutes ticked by, he knew it was time to move her. Carefully, he slipped his arm beneath her, lifting her gently, cradling her close. Her head rested on his chest as he stood, her body instinctively curling against him. She felt weightless in his arms, and for a second, he couldn’t believe how natural it all felt.

As he carried her through the door to her room, the familiar smell of her childhood home wrapped around him—the scent of lavender and old wood, a place both foreign and intimately familiar. The room was just as he remembered, simple and cosy, with little traces of her scattered throughout. He looked down at the floor he used to sleep on when they were young The soft, pale light of the moon filtered through the window, casting everything in a gentle glow.

He placed her gently in the bed, tucking the covers around her small frame. For a moment, he just stood there, watching her, his chest heavy with emotion. Everything about this felt so right, so painfully wrong at the same time. He should have been here years ago. He should have never let things get so far. But now, he was here. And he wasn’t going anywhere.

He leaned down, brushing a strand of hair away from her face before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. His lips lingered there for a second longer than he meant to, his heart aching with all the things he never said.

Just as he turned to leave, to head back to his own house, her voice stopped him.

“Don’t.”

Franco froze. His hand rested on the window frame , his heart stalling in his chest. He turned slowly, not sure if he had heard her correctly.

“What?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost unsure.

She looked up at him, her eyes still heavy with sleep, but there was something in her gaze—vulnerable, raw, but full of longing. “Don’t go,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I can’t watch you walk away again. Please don’t.”

For a moment, Franco stood there, his chest tight as he processed her words. Don’t go. It was all he needed to hear. She didn’t want him to leave. After everything that had happened, after all the distance between them, she still wanted him here.

He walked back toward the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He didn’t need to say anything; the weight of the moment, the look in her eyes, said it all. He carefully slid under the covers, settling beside her, the warmth of her body so familiar yet so new.

Without a word, she shifted, curling into him, her head finding its place on his chest, her hand resting gently against his side. Franco wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close, and for the first time in a long time, he felt at peace. It wasn’t a perfect moment, but it was real. And it was theirs.

They stayed there, the rhythm of their breathing slowly syncing, the quiet of the night wrapping around them. No more words were needed. No more distance. Just the two of them, together, holding on to each other like they were afraid to let go.

And as they drifted off to sleep, tangled together beneath the covers, Franco realised that this moment—this feeling of being home—was everything he had been searching for.

Home.

Her.

It was all synonymous.

She was his home.

the end.

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[fastandcarlos]

Forgotten Thing : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: you know just how busy max is, and you understood too, only now you're starting to feel like the forgotten thing in his life

The sound of light snores greeted you as you walked into the apartment, unable to stop your eyes from rolling. Your heart raced as you slipped your shoes off, dropping your bag to the ground with a loud thud, not caring about the figure asleep in your living room.  

“Max,” you called out, standing to the side of the sofa with your arms folded across your chest. 

The sound of your voice had him stirring, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. A smile was on his face for a moment until Max noticed how nice you looked, eyes going wide in horror when he remembered that he had promised to pick you up from work. 

“That was a lovely walk home,” you sarcastically told him, taking a seat on the end of the sofa, “at least you got some rest though, that’s what matters, right?” 

The frustration was clear in your voice as you found yourself let down by Max again. It was becoming a pretty normal feeling for you, to be given empty promises and assured of things that you knew that Max wouldn’t be able to follow through. 

“Don’t be mad, please,” Max asked of you, sitting himself up. “I only planned on closing my eyes for a few minutes, and then I just lost track of time. I mean, all you had to do was walk home from work, it’s hardly the most difficult job in the world. 

Your head shook at how dismissive Max was. “The walk home didn’t bother me Max, it’s the fact that you promised you’d be there. You keep promising and not delivering, it’s like I’m some forgotten, unimportant part of your life.” 

Max brushed his hands over his face as he tried to wake himself up, not quite understanding what you were so fed up about. “I’ve been so busy at work recently I obviously just needed the sleep. We can’t all have a job like yours, some of us are working nonstop.” 

“I see, because my job is a walk in the park, isn’t it?” You scoffed. 

You couldn’t quite believe what you were hearing from Max, he’d always seemed to be supportive, but now you weren’t so sure. It was like the two of you were in competition, with Max clearly feeling like he was winning. 

“It’s not the same, how hard I work and how hard you work is very different. I’ve got a flight to catch early tomorrow morning and you’ve got the next two days off, so I’d say I’m slightly more important,” Max argued. 

Your mouth went wide in shock, letting go of a gasp. You didn’t recognise the man in front of you, the man who usually was so caring and sympathetic had turned into someone who couldn’t care less about you. 

“I’ve always looked after you Max, done absolutely anything for you. It’s a shame you can’t do the same for me. I might as well just leave, that’s how you make me feel,” you spoke. 

Max’s eyes widened once again, his body tensing up. You stood up, feeling Max's eyes watching your every move, slowly backing towards the front door. 

“You wouldn’t actually leave,” Max sniggered. 

“Why not? What is there to make me stay anymore?” You challenged, your voice getting louder. “Why shouldn’t I go somewhere where I actually feel valued and appreciated rather as if I’m nothing.” 

“Love,” Max whispered, brushing a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel that way, it’s just been so hard for the past couple of weeks. I really did intend on picking you up, I set an alarm and everything, but I must’ve just slept right through it.” 

“If you were tired or stressed Max, you should’ve told me, I’d never have expected you to pick me up if I knew,” you sighed, walking back into the room again. 

“But you’re right, I do keep making promises that I can’t keep, so I wanted to pick you up to prove to you that I care.” Max tapped the space beside him on the sofa, inviting you to sit beside him as his hand rested against your leg. 

“I know that you care about me,” you assured him. 

Max’s head shook, “but I’ve not shown you that, when you’re constantly here caring for me, I just take it for granted, we’re supposed to care for each other.” 

You smiled weakly across at Max, knowing better than anyone just how hard he worked. For all his faults, you could never fault how loved he made you feel, even if his mind was elsewhere sometimes. Your hand reached out and pressed against the side of his face, lips pressing against his cheek, unaware of the way Max’s heart raced with relief at the feeling of your lips on him.  

“If you’re free this weekend, do you fancy coming to the race?” Max asked you, “I’ll make sure that we can spend some time together when I’m not needed at the garage. We can explore, have a proper look around.” 

Your head nodded at his suggestion, excited by the thought of being at a race again. It had been a while, you were never quite sure if Max wanted you there or not, but now he couldn’t imagine himself going to the race without you. 

“You don’t need to do this, I know how hard race weekends are,” you assured him, squeezing against his hand, “I don’t need anything to be made up to me.” 

“But you do,” Max defended, knowing just how badly he’d treated you. “I want to make sure you know that I care, I’m going to make sure that we have the best weekend together too.” 

Max moved his free arm around your frame as he pulled you into his side, pressing several gentle kisses against the top of your head. The hold he had on you was more loving than anything you’d felt from him in a while, letting you know just how sorry he was. 

Once he was done, Max kept his head resting on top of yours. “Whatever you want to do whilst we’re there this weekend, we’ll do. I’ll even drive you around and pick you up from the paddock.” 

“Max,” you whispered, but he quickly shushed you, knowing what you were about to say. 

“Don’t tell me that you understand that it’s alright, because it’s not,” he laughed, reading your mind perfectly. “I’ve been a terrible boyfriend and that needs to be put right.” 

“I do understand, you work so hard.” 

“And so do you,” Max responded, “I never should’ve made it sound like your job doesn’t matter, because it does, you’re the hardest working person I know. I’m sorry.” 

“Stop apologising,” you grinned, pressing your head further into Max’s side, “I know how sorry you are Max.” 

A hum came from him as he leant back on the sofa, cuddling you into his side as he draped his legs over the top of yours. 

“Let’s sleep for a bit,” you suggested, placing your hand on his chest, “I know how much better you sleep when you’ve got someone to cuddle.” 

Max nodded in agreement with you, “you can’t be telling anyone how much I love being cuddled to sleep, people won’t think I’m cool anymore.” 

“Leave me stranded at work again and I might just reveal all your secrets,” you teased. 

“You wouldn’t,” Max challenged, watching your head nod out of the corner of his eye. 

“You wouldn’t want to find out.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗