#it's more about the two of them getting to know each other

[tonycries]

Love Island - T.F.

Synopsis. Islanders, you’ve got a steamy date! An unfortunate recoupling leaves only you and one other participant unpaired - the mean, smug, hot Toji Fushiguro. Too bad you hate him, right? Right? 

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, Love Island AU, enemies-to-Iovers, forced proximity, reality TV, recoupling, first dates, arguing during it, slight exhíbitíonism, oraI (fem rec.), he gets PÚSSYDRÚNK, running from it, manhandIing, use of “ma’am”, chokíng, spítting, p talking, competitiveness, making him fit, tummy buIges, p sIapping, he makes you count, DÚMBIFlCATION, slight marathon, squírting, the L word, Toji’s down bad, getting together, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 10.1k

A/N. My guilty pleasure tbh…

You could only stare in utter silence.

Because you knew- oh, you knew that if you dared open your mouth right now, it would let out a barrage of insults they couldn’t air on even the trashiest of reality TV. 

Right ahead of you, Naoya turns away with a scoff. Smirking down at the brand-new bombshell he’d just sauntered onto the island with. Hand-in-hand. 

Yours left empty.

You jolt at the tense announcement of your name, the glitzy host probing at you with pitiful eyes- “Tonight’s recoupling is now complete, you have not been chosen. As always, you must pack your bags and leave the villa-”

Fists clenched, you stand.

“…but our voters seem to think otherwise.”

What? You could almost hear the beat drop they’d edit in during production. And as every islander freezes in confusion, the camera greedily follows each expression. Each word.

“Because who doesn’t love a good enemies-to-lovers?” She waves her cue cards with flourish, honing in on one participant—

Toji Fushiguro.

Next to you, Utahime holds onto Shoko’s hand. You could hear a few of the men mutter. Most of the cameramen themselves fighting back gasps. Hell, even Naoya seems to raise an icy brow. 

And with his beefy arms crossed so tight that his button-up strains, dark brows furrowed - Toji seemed just as bewildered as you were. He lounges by the corner of the semicircle seat that surrounded the infamous Love Island bonfire. Jutting his chin in defiance, “No way.”

You never thought you’d see the day where you agree with him of all people, “This has to be a joke. I mean- him?”

“Charming as ever, doll.”

“See what I mean?”

“Oh, I’m looking.”

The numerous producers behind-the-scenes were near-salivating as they lean in closer, and you could practically count the dollar signs in their eyes. Each shot of your little argument was liquid gold, and it seemed the host knew just as much. “Islanders, as you know, the public has been watching- and voting! And this week we had them vote for two Islanders they would like to see go on a date.”

Oh, fuck.

It wasn’t just some brief coupling until you could snag someone else - this was a date. A date. 

You’re biting back a groan as she pauses for what stretches on like eons.

Letting the gossip and tension simmer like the crashing waves nearby; you swear the temperature heightens by at least ten humid degrees once the host finishes off - with your name-

“-and Toji–!”

It bursts - the whispers, the sounds of camera lenses peering ever-closer, the constant repetition of ‘but they can’t stand each other?’ And you couldn’t quite fault any of your fellow participants for pointing out something you knew yourself. 

Something that the host blissfully ignores as she rattles off from her cards, “You will be leaving the villa immediately to see if those sparks of difference can turn into sparks of something more.” Faintly, you register Shoko and Utahime pulling you into a hug, “We’ll be seeing if it really is true that you should keep your friends close, and your enemies even closer. Get ready. And good luck!”

Promptly, the two sides of the couch separate as per their groups.

And you couldn’t even give a single fuck about the way that Naoya was hovering awkwardly with his new beau. Forgotten already.

The only thing registering in your mind behind Utahime’s cooing–“Are you alright, sweetheart?” Soft tone still being picked up by the microphones, “Do you need some water? A breather?”

“I’m alright-” You’re waving off, “I don’t even care about that damn Naoya anymore, it’s just…” Throwing a look at Toji - who has the audacity to look over the manly hands thumping his shoulders. Twiddling his fingers in a mocking wave at you, “Him?”

“He’s better than that pig, to be fair.” Shoko unsubtly nods at Naoya, loud enough that he turns to her with a bristle. “At least he hasn’t been ogling every girl at the villa like Mr. Two-Tone.”

You’re wincing at the reminder of your first pick - Zenin Naoya. 

The man who’d paired up with you on the first week itself with his sweet, snaking words, and promised you the world. And even though you should’ve known better than to expect as much on a dating show, it was still a complete slap in the face tonight to have him be so ready to kick you off the Island tonight. “He hasn’t been ogling any girl.”

Utahime hums, “Imagine if you’re the first on the Island to turn his head.” Sputtering at your sharp stare- “I-I mean-”

And then there was him - Toji.

You’d hated each other on sight. 

Maybe it was that cunning glint in those jade eyes of his, the way he was too suave, too in control. Or maybe it was the way he’d spilled juice all down your best dress during your first meeting, and all but ran from you afterwards. No apologies. Nothing more but snark to match yours. 

But it was a shock that Toji had made it this far in the competition anyways - being brought in to stir drama halfway through the season, he’d been cruising by purely as a fan-favorite. 

And, sure, he was begrudgingly handsome; tall, chiselled, but he hadn’t set a single hand or pair of eyes upon any of the other women here. Not even any of the bombshells - as someone else oh-so-clearly had. 

There had to be something wrong with him.

“Why, how nice to know that’s what my hot date thinks of me~”

Fuck- you’d mused that out loud. 

And right as Toji had sidled up behind you, predatorily quiet. You fight to keep your tone even as you look over your shoulder to meet his burning gaze, “Honesty is the best policy, no?”

He plants a firm palm on the seat cushion, craning his head down low enough until his breath mingles with yours. “Any more honest observations before we kill each other on the date tonight?”

“You’ll find out as I dance on your grave.” You roll your eyes. 

“Aww, think about the show ratings–”

Nodding seriously, “Which will certainly improve after I kill you off.”

“Feisty.” Toji’s sharp canines glint in the light of the flickering bonfire as he grins. It’s pindrop silence as he nudges his head even closer, even more intimately. “Then be honest with me, doll, and tell me your favorite color.”

“Huh?”

“Color. Favorite.” He makes a face of faux concern, “Or s’that too tough for your pretty lil’-”

“Can’t blame me for being surprised you can understand the color spectrum.” You’re biting out - the date hadn’t started but it was already in ruins, you could already imagine how the rest of the evening would go. Ultimately spitting out your favorite shade-

“Hm, interesting.” Toji inclines his head down at you for a thick second, two- before turning his sculpted back in the direction of the assigned dorms. “Dress up f’me tonight, will you—”

You spit out a few more choice words, even as Utahime strokes your hair. “There there, it’s just for tonight.” You’re shivering as her lips brush your earlobe, whispering conspiratorially, “And if you ask me, I think the producers are actually onto something.”

“You’re joking.”

She insists, “Enemies-to-lovers.”

“Enemies-to-you’re-delusional, Uta.” Shoko deadpans- before cracking a meager smile once she’s catching her gaze. Hands intertwined with each other, whilst yours gripped emptily. “But I love you, anyway.”

You groan at the paired couple, already dreading whatever the studio had conjured up for you on the date. “They should’ve sent you two instead.” 

Utahime cackles, “You’re not getting out of your enemies-to-lovers that easily, girl.”

“At the very least, you’re on camera.” Shoko looks accomplished at your dual inquiring gazes, “So you won’t be able to actually kill each other.”

.

.

.

You were actually going to kill each other.

It was only a few minutes into this ‘romantic’ dinner date and one of you had already thrown a fork at your date. The other had thrown an impressive helping of mashed potatoes. 

You’re grimacing as the cameraman nearby smears off a creamy smudge of potatoes from his expensive lens, turning back to your date. He’d dressed…surprisingly well - in a button-up of your favorite color, raven bangs styled stylishly messy, smirking at you from the end of a candlelit table. “A true gentleman.” 

“And yer a true warrior.” Toji cackles, bending over to pick up your fork from the carpet of the restaurant. 

The producers had managed to rent out one of those painfully high-end ones in town. With deconstructed soups and a menu with dishes more expensive than your rent; all deep red decorations for couples, and soft waltzes playing out loud. 

And you didn’t know if you felt more out-of-place at this establishment or simply sitting opposite Toji.

“Oi. Oiii–” He’s teasingly snapping you out of your spinning thoughts, arms crossing as he leans over the table. “Finally fallen for my charms–?”

“Charms?” You furrow your brows, pushing the tiny portion of dinner ‘round with a spoon. It’d been long since the crew had given up trying to prompt you two into usual first date questions. Pretending to look around, “Where?”

Smile venomous, Toji’s closing the gap between you on the table- “Ah, forgot you can’t see them with your head stuck up your ass, doll.”

And you’re not far behind, but neither are the cameras. “Been staring at my ass a lot, have you?” All clustering around the chaos of the table, the sniping words breaking through the gentle atmosphere. 

“Why, I have.”

You gape, “Must be why I’ve been feeling sickly lately.”

“No, it’s just sickening to be such a grouch.”

“I’d rather be a grouch than a sleaze.”

And he’s leaning his head on one palm, long lashes narrowed- he has the audacity to flutter them at you. “Why, I thought that was your type?”

You have to fervently battle the hand itching to grip your porcelain plate, that goop of your appetizers still-untouched. Cocking your head, “And what if it is? What’re you gonna do about it?” 

You’re watching as something within Toji’s half-lidded eyes seems to flicker- something seems to twinkle. And, knowing Toji as much as you have these past few weeks, it doesn’t feel like anything that bodes well for you.

With a low, pointed sigh he’s slouching over the table - closer to you, close enough that the silky fabric of his dress pants bump against your knees and makes your skin sizzle with heat. And you have no doubt that the cameras manage to catch each second of this motion. “Well, unlucky for you, I’m no sleaze, darlin’.”

Tone deep. Almost husky. 

It’s enough to make your skin prickle with goosebumps, and something in your breath catches as you cross your arms. “Prove it.”

And it was a simple retort. It was something to leave your word last, and your mind thinking you won the ceaseless argument. 

Not something to make the cameramen gasp as Toji stands to his full, towering height. As he casually drifts a hand through his messy bangs, pushes his long sleeves upwards to bear veiny forearms, and reaches one out to you-

You stare at his open palm as if it was a snake waiting to strike, “Wh-what?”

“You said to prove it. Come on then, let’s get outta here.” He’s smugly rolling his eyes, “Unless you’re just as uptight as that Nao-”

You’re intertwining your fingers with his faster than you could blink.

And it registers that just as Toji was large - so were his hands. Thick, enveloping, he’s barely even trying to guide you breezily to your feet. A roughened thumb slowly dragging down the sides of your index, “So- since the madam wasn’t enjoying her time here, where might you suggest we g- oh.”

But you’re quicker.

And you’re dragging him through the line of fancy tables, well away from the cameras that hasten to keep up. “Away from that.”

“…yes, ma’am.”

Oh, you quite liked that coming out of his mouth - though, you’d never admit.

It takes two minutes for you to duck out of the overly-polished enterprise of the restaurant, and only one more to speed walk towards the first stall of street food you could find. 

Stuffing your faces into something fried and much more filling, you can’t even bring yourself to feel even a shred of self-consciousness as you notice that the cameras have caught up by now.

But what you didn’t notice was the look that Toji was shooting your way- half-pausing his own devouring, half-locked on the cute lil’ hums that you were letting off. Simply pondering. 

“Ah, I remember my husband looked at me on our first date.” A slightly-weathered, gigging voice speaks up- and both of you snap your heads towards the crouched old lady manning her stall. Nodding at the two of you, “Keep looking at her like that, young man. Even when you’re all old and wrinkly like me.”

You nearly choke on your food, “O-oh, actually, we’re-”

“Of course, I will, grandma.” Toji, ever-the-charmer (to everyone but you, it seems), throws his strong arms around your shoulder. Tugging you to his hardened front, “She’d been begging for ages to take me out.”

And you can only watch in pure horror as she’s lightly pinching the dimples by Toji’s grin, “Odd amount of cameras there are. Is this for- what the kid’s call ah- YouTube?”

Toji starts, “It’s for…”

“Our wedding footage, of course.” He shoots a look your way - oh? - which you only meet with one of your own. Two can play that game. Clutching onto the thin fabric of his button-up, you hold up your left hand with a mournful look. “He didn’t even get me a ring, though.”

Stammering for a lie, you swear you spot the tips of his ears burn rouge. “I-I said it’s in cleaning-”

“Oh- he got me a secondhand one, you see-” You smile, dig your own grave Toji Fushiguro. 

“It was vintage-”

“And now he’s lying-”

“Fucking hell-”

The stall owner bursts into peels of glee, clapping her wrinkly hands. “Ah, you young ‘uns really do remind me of my husband and I.” Before sternly wagging her finger, “I expect you to come back here soon with a few little ones running around one day–!”

You’re grinning, sickly sweet at Toji. “Of course, unless I snip it off.”

Him, right along with a few cameramen, can only shiver.

Though, perhaps that was because of something else entirely. 

Because as soon as you’re finishing up with the lovely stall owner, tipping her generously, the coastal wind picks something frosty in it.

Forcing nearby windows to slam, the flickering streetlights to dim. And for your newly-made friend to look up at the darkening sky and furrow her feathery brows, “Well, looks like I best be heading back- we’re in for a storm.” She rapidly starts furling in her stall, “You two better get going too- my home’s nearby but for the entire group…” She looks over your expansive team of cameras, “There’s an inn just down the street if you’d like?”

One of the producers, who’d been silently observing until now, jumps at the chance. Hastily jotting down the location as he makes a few calls to the studio-

You didn’t even want to know what that was about.

Good television, you presume.

“It’s just a little ways away.” Toji’s holding a palm over his line of sight, in the direction of where the old lady had said. A light drizzle was just starting to kiss down on your figures, “We should make it if we run.”

You’re looking down at the slick cobblestone, then at your heels, having been forced into one of your best pairs by Utahime. “Right…run.”

Toji looks at you for a second. Then at your heels. Back at the distance of the inn. A multitude of emotions before he closes his eyes and groans. 

“Get on.”

“Wha-”

You’re speechless, only staring onwards as the big, bad Toji Fushiguro crouches in front of you with his shoulders bared. Beefy arms braced behind him, gruff voice calling out- “Get on then, or m’leaving you here to be drenched.”

He was…offering to piggyback you?

Him? 

You huff, mouth opening to reject- when a particularly heavy splash of a raindrop makes you shudder. Fuck, the universe really wasn’t on your side today.

Bracing two hands on top of his deltoids, you could already feel the firmness of his muscles underneath. Legs bracing on either side of his kneeled figure, “Y-you just want me on you.” It’s the only thing you can get out before he’s standing up- and fuck, was it high from where your feet dangled, held up by his steady forearms.

Held up easily.

Toji turns his sharp side profile to you and grins, “Oh yeah? How’d you know, doll?” And you jolt once one of his rovering hands push down where the fabric of your dress was riding up your thighs. “Easy, easy. You’re not so bad when ya aren’t hurling insults my way - almost.” 

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.” It’s hard not to be distracted by the minty scent of his cologne, soft curls of Stygian hair tickling your nose. “You’re not so bad when you’re not a sleaze. This is almost…sweet.”

“Did it hurt ya to say that compliment?”

“Worse than passing a kidney stone.”

“Oh- oh, get a shot of this.” One of the numerous executives calls out once Toji’s bracing you carefully in his arms. “They’re going to eat this up–!”

A brilliant grin breaks across your date’s face, and you already know what he’s thinking. “Would be a lot sweeter if we didn’t have all these damn cameras, huh?” Soft breath striking your features, “Ready- set-”

“-go!”

The last things you’re hearing are the shutters of cameras, and the laughter of the stall owner in your ears. Mingled right with Toji’s rough chuckle- “See-” He’s panting out, legs moving faster, bumping you purposefully on his back so that you’re squealing. “Am your type now, doll?”

You wrap your arms tighter ‘round his flexing shoulders, and tell yourself that the way you burrow into the crook of his neck was because of the pouring rain. “Not at all–!”

And somewhere down your sprint, Toji’s heart stutters.

.

.

.

“Fuh-fuck–” Toji’s murky breath escapes in a pant, and you’re shoving him by his expensive shirt through the double doors of your suite. “You’re fucking feisty.”

“And you’re drenched.” You wrinkle your nose at the way the darkened fabric of his button-up glues to each ridge of his abs, his pecs. It was almost too much, you were almost too close. And you already knew that you’d be watching these episodes in particular once you’re out of this Island.

“Are you sure that you’re not the one-”

“You wish.”

As stars of the show you’d, expectably, been given the best room in the entire inn. Anything for that sweet, sweet juicy content that would have audiences frothing at the mouth - just as the cameramen were right now. 

Right behind you two.

Fighting over each other to get the best shot of Toji leaning over the mahogany woodwork of the entrance, disheveled. The first few buttons of his dress shirt unbuttoned. Slightly dazed. Slightly in disbelief.

“Tha’s about as far as you damn perverts can go.” He’s narrowing his eyes directly at the greedy lenses, palm steady on the doorknob. But those reality show cameras manage to catch the slight hint of a grin on his face. “Goodnight then.”

Taking one, long look at you.

“Because I certainly will be having a good night.”

It happens so fast that you don’t even have the chance to register it - Toji’s rough hand gripping onto one of your wrists. Before he jerks a bicep of his and tugs you inside, letting the door shut behind you two with a resounding slam!

Alone.

Finally alone.

No producers milking your arguments, and no cameras rolling for every single interaction. You’re stuck with only the two of you, and your labored breathing. 

Though, you’re never given the time for it to sink in - not before Toji has your back against the room’s wall, his arms caging your face, meaty thighs pinning down yours. Grin gleaming in the dim lighting, “Easy there, doll.”

“Mmm–” Leaning in, the plush curves of his mouth just lightly graze your own. His sinful scar scraping the outer edges of your lips ever-so-barely-

“Oh- oh, fuck.”

Toji’s feeling your mouth crash into his- and in a singular, split-second he’s addicted. Biting down on the soft insides of his cheek and still managing to let out a throaty groan of displeasure when you instantly break it off.

“No-” He’s gasping, one hand holding onto your throat. Chasing your mouth with a few sloppy kisses that leave your maw stinging, “Come back. Come back come back-”

But you have something else in mind. 

And - peering right up into Toji’s widened eyes - you’re falling to the velvety carpet with a dull thud!

Knees stinging with the friction, your eager fingers fumble with the zipper to his pants, “Don’t get- hah-” Steaming hot breath enough to make your date’s half-hard dick twitch, “-cocky about it-” 

“Pun intended?”

“What- no.” You’re murmuring, hazy pupils locked on the fat bulging outline you could make out between Toji’s legs. Each pulsing throb made the dark patch of precum on his dress pants grow, and you’re biting back a few wads of saliva from adding to it. 

He tuts, lips curling at the ends. “Cat got yer tongue?”

“Tch, no. You’re p-probably not even that…”

“Wanna bet?”

Grouchily, with a thumb pushin’ down the hem of his trousers, Toji tugs down his unbuckled pants. And he’s rendering you speechless. Stunned.

Layers of fabric unveiled just enough for the long, gleaming edge of his shaft to spring up and smack against his stomach. Smearing a wet line of pre that splurges from the end of his cock and all the way down to his balls. 

And he wasn’t just big - he was big.

With a plump, tannish mushroom tip that was trickling out sappy pre, making such a mess between your legs as you imagined what he’d feel like inside of you. The circumference was enough to make you quiver-

“O-oh.”

“What was that?” Toji’s cooing, knowing damn well just how big he really was. “What were ya saying? Something about me being…small, doll?”

And as if to prove his point, he’s holding the thick girth of his cock side-by-side to your face. Memorizing the pretty lil’ way your mouth drops at how much bigger the prolonged length of his shaft was, how he was just so thick.

Before you know it, you’re reaching up to measure him in your own hands. 

With a gulp, you find your palms cradling his bulky hilt n’ struggling to even close. “Fuck.” Squeezing your thighs together, you’re giving his cock an experimental tug. “Fuck, so this is why you’re such an asshole.”

Toji cracks one of his glassy eyelids open, “Wha’s- oh, just like that, doll- what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Because you’re so…big.” It almost tore at your pride to admit he was right. But how could you not when you now had both hands wrapped ‘round Toji’s swollen girth?

When he was polishing off your wrist with a gleaming sheen of his pre, the bulbous crown of his shaft twitching in the air. You’re whispering, purposefully so the gusts of your breath make Toji sensitively bite back whimpers. “Lets you get away with it- ngh-” Your lips pucker forward in a kittenish kiss, tongue gliding along the tender line of his slit. “Let’s you…fuck.” 

But whatever statement you wanted to make doesn’t leave the jumbled mess of your mind.

Because soon enough you’re sheathing Toji’s furious cocktip between your lips and sucking. Like a hot strawberry lollipop, his syrupy precum was coatin’ your mouth and just so thick.

Toji’s hands plastered onto your scalp, he’s holding your gorgeous face upright and thrusting. “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck.” Head throwing back until it hits the aged wallpaper of the room, “Heh- guess I found a new use for this mouth, darlin’- fuck!”

Moaning, your textured taste buds glissade down his throbbing veins and make Toji shiver. And for all that he was babbling away, he was just gone.

“Easy, easy there, girl. Was just hah- just joking.” Padded fingertips jittery on your head, scarred lips trembling as you’re bobbing your head methodically up n’ down, up n’ down, up n’ down. Each piston leaves him stretching out the softened insides of your mouth like he’s branding his rotund tip, “Yer gonna fucking milk me dry, y’know?”

You’re raising a brow as if to say that that was exactly what he wanted. 

Nails clawing down the surface of his pale thighs, “Mmmf- want-” Tongue slipping further down his plumpened shaft, your jaw grinds against the skin near his pelvis. “Want more- want to make you haaah- cum.”

“That fuckin’ eager?” Toji pants, tilting his head from above. Just so hot n’ big it’s like he was melting with every greedy swipe. “Y’know I’m gonna make you cum at least five times more than me, right?”

Rolling your eyes, you’re only tightening your grip on his muscular legs. Letting the bounces of his pistoning hips strike your mouth, thick cock swabbing the insides of your cheek. 

Toji curses as he feels you relax your throat n’ stuff his girth even deeper, length bulging from the sides of your throat with a squelch–! “What? Don’t think I can do it?” Without any warning, without any hesitation, he’s gripping onto the sides of your neck with a free hand and squeezing to feel the veiny cylindrical outline spearing open your maw. Feeling himself through your throat. “Don’t think I can make you cum?”

Slobber streams down the side of your lips and you whine at the zig-zagging pattern his veins were making at the back of your throat. 

“Wait-” His brow quirks up, eyeing your watery peripheries. “Has he ever made you cum, doll?”

You already knew what ‘he’ Toji was referring to. 

Naoya was all for the cameras, and no steamy date night spent between you two had actually ended up as something you might have wanted to brag to your friends. And so you could only dart your eyes away- for but a mere nanosecond before Toji firmly pulls you by your jaw up to stare at him.

To meet his eyes, probin’ for an answer until you could only shake your head.

He barks out in shocked laughter, “No? No?” Confirming, as you’re gesturing an affirmation once more before he’s planting a fat rut into the cushy back of your mouth. “Fuuuuck, never made you cum…”

With the loudest, filthiest noise Toji forces his ravaged, red cock out of your mouth no matter how much you huffed n’ puffed otherwise. 

“Never made you- you-” Constantly repeating, he’s watching as a dollop of precum glitters down the side of your chin and groans. Almost turning his head away, almost wanting to look away because it was just too fucking much. But he couldn’t - he was hypnotized as you’re drinking in the sap of pre he’d left inside your mouth. Breathless, sweating. “Seriously never fucking made a gal like you cum?”

Pouting, you’re shaking your head. “No- I already told you, Toji. Why-”

He leans his head back to look at you through dark lashes, “If it were up to me you’d be cumming until you couldn’t anymore, doll.”

Eyes shuttering, you shiver at the feeling of two calloused palms sliding down your shoulders, sensually. Toji lifts you up like you weigh nothing- and before you know it, he’s carrying you in a few strides across the bedroom to sprawl you out across the satin bedsheets.

Hovering over you, “So-” He breathes out, raspy. 

The corners of Toji’s scarred mouth twitch up into something primal once he’s taking in the sight of you with your back pressed against the bedsprings. Mouth-gaped, blinking. “-lemme show you how a real man fucks.”

“Oh- oh fuck.”

Your dress is torn off with a ruthless rip-rip-riiiip– and so are your flimsy undergarments. Toji’s hooded eyes widen as he’s taking in the translucent sight of your panties, soaked through until he’s making out the shape of your pussy.

Thumbing down the edge of your drivelling slit, “Open wider.” He taps your trembly thighs as you gasp n’ buck off of the creaky mattress. “Wider.”

Hands clasping the backs of your knees to smear yourself open like such a slut, “L-like this?‘

The bed sings in protest once Toji’s shifting himself further down, scrutinizing the precarious position you’re in. “Mm– wiiiider.” Tittering at the way you’re straining to, “C’mon now, no need to be shy.”

You’re mewling, body reacting to the utter shockwaves of Toji’s palm coming down to spank the outer edge of your pussy through your panties. “See?” Fuck- he’s just salivating at just how much wetter you’re growing, dripping straight through the cotton fabric. “She certainly ain’t shy.”

Wincing through a few tears, “Just- sh-shut up and ngh- make me cum then.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And in a split-second, Toji’s barely pulling aside your underwear with a sticky sluuuurp–! Pursing his plump lips to spit vertically between your puffy pussylips, your match can’t help but admire the cute, glistenin’ hole hidden between your folds. 

You’re hearing the last thing he murmurs—“Bon appétit.”

And then he’s pushing and pushing his face right between your legs until Toji damn near suffocates himself. Just a singular swipe of his lengthy tongue, gluing all the way till the rim of your entrance and he groans-

“Fuck.” Sounding out-of-breath, and it wasn’t even from a lack of respiration. He’s simply gaping open his ravenous maw and plastering himself to every inch of your cunt he could reach. “Fuck- fuuuuck.”

Slightly concerned, you’re tugging on the edges of his black bangs. “T-Toji?” Harder, when it doesn’t make him even budge. “Are you-”

“Don’t-” Toji cuts you off, and his thick eyebrows knit like he couldn’t spare the time to even respond. Only clinging onto the sides of your hips so that he can pull you halfway down the bed and stick his slimy mouth even deeper. “What the fuck- you’re so fucking-” Another wad of spit hits you like a bullet, “-sweet.”

And he was addicted.

Simply addicted, it’s almost animalistic the way that Toji’s ridged taste buds were poking n’ prodding between your bloated pussylips.

Honed in on squeezing between your sloppy hole, he’s feeling you clench your cute insides ‘round him and twitches. “Easy- easy now.” Softly, he strokes the side of your waist, “Let your dear Toji get in there-”

“Just shut up and eat me out-” Quivering, you’re pushing down on his head with all your might - and that seems to be the exact force that Toji wants.

To have your knees closing in on his clammy head, hips rutting off of the bedcoils with every wad of spittle that leaks from his lips. “Mmm- feisty.” And just as the curly edge of his tongue slithers between your cunt, Toji’s right thumb drifts upwards to sliiide over your clit. To make you shriiiill out. “C’mon tell me that again. Again.”

“Ngh, f-fuuuck-” You’re throwing your head back, pupils whirling in stupid circles again and again with every swipe of his tongue. “Just sh-shut up and eat me- hck! out.”

With a groan that breaks at the very end of his baritone, he’s bullying his mouth deeper. And you swear that you’re seeing Toji’s powerful hips come down to hump the plush end of the bed, “Shiiiit, yeah. Love it when you boss me ‘round, doll. Now how about telling me how good it feels.”

Good.

So, so good. 

Every stroke of his silvery mouth had you rendered near-speechless, and as a few more solid inches of his muscle eases past your folds you find yourself whining. “Well for that it has to- hah- feel good. Doesn’t it- oh, fuck!”

You’re regretting those words the instant they leave your mouth. 

Because just then Toji’s shattering your sentence with a thorough plunge of his thick tongue, again and again. He’s fucking your poor, dewy insides like he’s rubbin’ them raw, “Wha’s that?” Snickering straight into your cunt at the way your mouth falls open with moans. “Wha’s thaaaat?”

“It’s- hck! it’s just-”

“I-i-it-” Toji guffaws, mockingly. That mean thumb of his pressing down on your clit like a button, just the pressure is enough to make you see stars. Lurching wildly with a yelp as he’s taking the opportunity to swat down where you were the most tender. “Stop runnin’ and put it on my face, dammit.”

“You don’t need to- fuuuck- breathe?” You’re asking, almost incredulously. 

“Not. At. All. Ma’am.”

And he couldn’t get enough - would never be able to get enough when you were so sensitive and reactive like this. 

So it’s with such a sleazy chuckle that Toji’s coiling his second hand around your leg, letting the knobbled tips of his index and middle poke against your wet slope. “But I want you to breathe- to scream, to tell me how hah- fucking good it feels.”

His fingers are just so thick that they can easily pry apart your filthy folds n’ stuff your leaky orifice. The circumferences poking your insides sooo deliciously wide open, the utter stretch is enough to make your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

Letting off a talkative squeeelch that he’s drunkenly nodding along to, “Mhm– yeah. S’good, huh?” Toji’s doubly spreading you wiiiide open with both his tongue n’ his digits, “C’mon, girl, tell me with those other ngh- lips, too. Not just these pretty ones—”

Hiccuping, “You’re so- you’re just so- fuck!”

“That’s it.” Repeating like a mantra, every pump of his barreling fingertips leaves your mind spinning. Your mouth agape, your pussy bein’ spanked constantly. 

Gasping, the crowned edges of Toji’s fingertips curve up into the roof of your cunt. Feeling all over your slimy walls to scour for your g-spot, “That’s it that’s it that’s it-” With a sudden, slamming thrust of his rugged fingers he’s burrowing deeply into your sweetest spot n’ holding it there. “And who’s making you feel this good- who?”

“Y-you- ngh-” Gnawing down on your lower lip like bubblegum, you have to fight to keep your wits about yourself. Riding his handsome face in sloppy drags, “Can you even- handle it, Toji?”

Because you could barely even hear him breathe, hear him pant. Only feeling the lavish velvety of his tongue salivate allll over your snug hole, jackhammering away in bursts in n’ out. “Oh, I don’t need to handle it.”

And in a sultry split-second, your weakened thighs are thrown over his shoulder and used as leverage to drag you down. Manhandling your cunt to smack against his mouth-

“You’re the one fucking falling apart.”

“And y-you’re pussydrunk–!”

“Fuck yeah, I am.” Spitting. Glossing over your swollen pussylips with his drool, he sticks a third digit inside your rubbery entrance and watches as you squirm. 

Toji was pussydrunk all the way to his brain, oversaturated with the sweet heat of your core. Big fingers swabbing along your tenderest spots, his third fingerpad easily latches onto your g-spot. “Fuck yes- yeah, and I wanna hear juuuust how good I make m’girl feel.”

His girl?

“Yeah, my girl.” Shit- did you say that out loud? With heady eyes, he nods - and the vision is sensual enough that it almost has you cumming. “Got a problem with that?”

“N-no- fuck! It feels too good…”

With another three swats coming down on your pussy—smack! smack! smack! Toji has his tongue glued to your clit now, swirlin’ over a tiny ‘T’, then an ‘O’, ‘J’, and finally an ‘I’. Making you sound out every syllable-

If your mouth couldn’t formulate his name, at least your cunt was letting it out in the cutest gushes n’ wads of slick. Dripping down each side of his gluttonous mouth, “Out loud now, can barely even hear you over this pretty pussy.”

“Toj-”

Squeeeelch- “Theeere she goes.” Toji smirks, “See what I mean? You hafta be louder, doll. Say my name.” And he could feel every clench, every zap of tremors running down your spine. “Say my name n’ I’ll let you cum.”

Fuck- he knew you were oh-so-close to your orgasm before even you were.

“I-I’m gonna…” You’re gulping, feeling that familiar twist at the very bottom of your tummy. It was something hot and prickly which set your very teeth on edge, “I think m’close, Toji…”

“Ya think?” His tongue continues all those lewd ministrations, and no matter how much you were rutting and curvin’ your spine - it wouldn’t make him even budge. Not even an inch. “Let me hear it. Who’s making you feel this good?” 

Again and again, he’s spelling out your name until you’re defeated. Until all you can do it speechlessly mouth those very syllables on your own tongue, dappled with a flood of saliva at his twirlin’ patterns. “T-Toji-”

“Louder.”

Faster. Harder.

“Toji-”

Thump thump thump his digits scrape your g-spot, the end of your cervix. He’s leaving a few battered bruises that have you quaking all the way down to your bones, tongue flickering just to tease you out of your mind.

It’s almost like he wants to cut you off. 

And there’s another slap on your pussy, another snicker. “Now how about a-” Fuck- he barely even had the patience, the sanity to pull his glistening features back far enough to speak. “-a ‘Toji, pleeeease—?’”

“F-fuck you.”

Smack!

Just as he punctuates with his relentless tongue, “T, O, J, I- what’s that speeell?”

And suddenly you’re keening, hips lurching off the bed to let his tongue ruin you further than you thought possible. No one had ever bruised your most favorite spots to this extent, made you ever repeat something like a broken- “Toji- ple- oh.”

“Mm– not good enough, how about ‘Toji, pretty please?’”

Soon enough, you swear you’re registering a fourth of his fat fingers reach for the bruised spot of your bundle of nerves. Thumping away like he didn’t care no matter how much his wrist ached, how much his sharp jawline was grinding against your slope. Lips swollen by now- “C’mon now. C’mon- let the fuckin’ cameras hear for all I care.”

You’re shattering, “Toj- ngh- Toji, p-pretty please—!”

And it’s the only thing you can manage, like a constant broken mantra.

Like a prayer again and again in your wailing breathy tone whilst Toji fucked you through your explosive high. And he had his entire face plastered to your gushing cunt like it was stuck with adhesive, tongue swabbin’ all over.

The sizzling ridges of his taste buds were so scalding against the tip-top of your clit. Letting his extensive muscle repeat that T-O-J-I just so you mewl. “Toji- cum—ing- ngh, m’cumming m’cumming.”

“I know.” Rough fingertips strike the side of your pussy’s slope, mouth rovering leisurely between your legs to fuck you with everything he had. With everything he wishes was his long, aching cock. “Mmm, use me. Ride my face with that fuck- pussy like you own it, why don’tcha?”

With a mewl, you’re trying to despite the limpness of your limbs. Hips raising off of the sticky sheets with no rhythm or rhyme, you’re getting yourself off to the nuzzle of Toji’s straight nose bridge against your clit. “I-I am.”

He grumbles, “Not hard enough- where’s my feisty girl?”

“Well- fuuuuck- how do you expect me to- oh.” And you can’t even finish your train of thought before a particularly hard thrash of Toji’s fingers leave you cross-eyed and babbling stupidly. 

Again and again. 

Cumming on his tongue - honestly, if he were any lesser man then he’d be creaming himself just from the sight of you all pretty and shaking like this. 

A pathetic sob escapes your throat as your walls registering the pure stretch of his pummeling digits. Four long fingers tautly pulling your channel to the maximum, precisely ruinin’ your g-spot - it’s like he was trying to make you cry. “Is it- nghh really necessary to have four?”

“Heh-” Purposefully, he’s scissoring two of his rude digits until your pitch reaches a fever point. The pangs of your high leaving you wrung and dry. “Gonna hafta stretch you even wider if you’re gonna even think of taking all of me, darlin’.”

You’re marrying your brows with a stubborn pout, “But I could take all of you.”

“Oh?” Toji perks up in interest, and the grin that stretches his scarred lips is almost feral in nature. “Wanna bet?”

The words sound familiar - but right now you’re way too far gone in your melty mind to even think about recalling from when and where. The only thing you can do is to nod-

“Bet.”

And Toji - oh, mean, mean Toji Fushiguro - dares to swirl out a soppy final swipe of his name on your fluttering hole. Snagging just the end of your pretty entrance in a sweet goodbye, before he puts your soaked panties back in place with a sharp snap!

Grinning—“Anything for you, ma’am.”

It’s just then that Toji takes off his snug shirt of your favorite color - pop! pop! pop! 

And you could feel your mouth unfastening further n’ further with each button tugged free, because oh- you’d seen Toji lounging shirtless ‘round the villa. Fighting against yourself to not look too close lest he caught you staring. 

But seeing him like this was what made your heart race.

Because he was oh-so-naturally chiselled, with such curvaceous pecs that heaved with each pant. Washboard abs glistening with a thin sheen of perspiration, a bead of sweat drips down his temple and down, down, down to his navel. 

Disappearing into the curly black happy trail that decorated his hilt. 

Toji wraps a rough hand around his base and gives a good pump, peeling off the rest of his trousers. Slapping down the tender, veiny underside, “Then I better hear you takin’ it ngh- all like a good fuckin’ girl, yeah?”

“Tch-” You’re leaning up on your elbows to take a better look, watching in awe at how big his girth looked pulsing between your pussylips. “S’not even th-that big- oh, fuck!”

‘Not that big’ your ass.

Toji fits in the large, pinkish circumference of his cock, and it’s just so easy to plug up your tight fuckin’ hole. Just a single taste of that sinful streeeetch and you were babbling with no sound–

“Oh- oh, my-”

“Ngh- f-fuck.”

Your eyes snap wide open, “D-did you just stutter, Toji?” You find yourself exhilarated, and in response Toji’s snapping his hips deeper with such a guttural groaaan. But it’s still not enough to make you forget- “No- ngh, I swear you did.”

“So what?” 

You’d just made the infamous Toji Fushiguro stutter. 

And you swear that Toji’s husky bass had turned strained, had turned broken. “S-so fucking what?” The first few inches of his swollen cock pumps in a few inches and he’s finding himself thrusting- just bare, rapid half-thrusts like he was out of control. “Let’s see how- ngh- articulate you are then, huh?”

“Wh-what do you-”

He slaps a hand down on your crowned scalp, “I said what I said.” Using the force to hold your restless body still and push—“Count.”

There’s another menacing probe of Toji’s swole, reddened tip and you find yourself gasping for air. He was just so thick inside that every tiny buck made you go wild at the feeling of his veins. 

Toes curled, you just looked so cute being fucked dumb underneath him like this. And he can’t help but let out something that sounded like an airy bout of laughter as Toji plows on- “Count. Fucking count f’me, doll.”

You didn’t need to ask what.

“One-” Because he was already filling you up with the winding lines of his veiny cock, with every thorough inch that made you whimper. “Th-three?”

“Awww, s’it really feel that ngh- good?” Toji coos out at your poor answer, hiking up one of his meaty, pale thighs. The change in angle leaves his split-ended tip crashing against the roof of your walls, “M’flattered. We’re only two inches in, darlin’.”

“Two?” You gape.

If this was two then you might as well never see the light of day before you take all of Toji’s proud inches.

At least, that’s what you thought.

Toji himself was rutting away- sloppily, sensually. Every split-second his cock wasn’t fully stuffed inside your heated cunt made him ache, and he’s thumbin’ apart your tight folds to stretch out your hole. “C’moooon— keep counting. D’you need any help?” With false concern, he takes such laaaanguid glides of beating girth. “You could like this oooooone, twooooo, threee, f-” 

“I-I know how to fucking count-”

The scarred edges of his lips curl upwards, “Oh yeah? Then where’s the feisty gal that said she could take it- a- fuuuuck.”

Ruthlessly, you claw your nails down Toji’s broad back, feeling the shifting of his muscles underneath. “What was that?”

He narrows his verdant irises, “Take it all- fuck, stop squeezin’ like that-” It fucking felt like heaven to have his pre-glazed tip mazing in so deep, the very top of his blushing shaft acting like a spotlight that was spearing your walls open. 

Again and again and again. 

The slick-leaking orifice of Toji’s cock stuck near your poor g-spot and left you mewling. Batting your teary lashes up at him in a way you knew would make him twitch deep inside, “But you said you wanted me to take it- all.”

Your moans were pitched so prettily, like his favorite song. And every syllable spilling out of your mouth left Toji grabbing onto your throat and pulling you down like a glorified ragdoll. 

You’re grinning, “And I want it allll, Toji-” Babbling away stupidly- shit, you were so cockdrunk right now. Addicted to the sheer size of him molding your clingy walls, “Can’t help but s-suck it all up.”

“Gonna be the fuckin’ death of me.” Your date groans, utterly wrecked. With a thumb squeezing past your puffy core, he gnaws down on his lip and watches at the sultry way your saccharine cunt was milking his inches. Glistening. Winking as you squeezed for more, more, more. 

And before you can revel in your victory of breaking him, Toji spanks his gleaming palm down on your drivelling slope. Thwack! “Don’t think that e-excuses you from havin’ ta count, sneaky girl.”

Huffing out a whine—“F-fine. Ngh- Five?”

“Six now.”

And he was still going. 

Still mercilessly gliding a few thumping veins down your walls, “Seven-” You’re failing to catch your breath, the stretch was just incredible. Almost as if you could feel the globular mushroom top of him poke into your very lungs. “Eight- nine-”

“Fucking—” There’s a loud, sappy sluuuuurp on the very last mindless rut that Toji’s gifting you with. All the way from the probin’ curve of his tip, to the unruly hair soaked on his base. “-ten.”

Bottoming out.

You weakly mutter, “I t-told you I could take it all.”

It was so much- so much that Toji could easily hover his free hand down on your stomach and feel the cute lil’ tummy bulge he was fucking into you.

The tummy bulge that he was clashing against your cervix with; wet, thudding kisses of his cock on your cervix. “So you did.” He wafts a few digits down on that bump and salivates, “Heh, wanna bet that I can make you squirt, doll?”

“Prove it.”

“S’that a challenge?”

“A threat if you don’t.”

“Ohhh, I’m so scared.” Rudely, Toji’s right hand tightens on your throat to make the top of your head feel all heady. And his slithering left hand roams down to pinch your neglected clit, “Are you scared?”

“I-” The confused response is barely formulating in your throat, before your glazed eyes follow his line of sight n’ find Toji locked in contact with your over-stuffed pussy. 

He was talking to her instead.

And immediately, all the breath vanishes from your lungs just as soon as he’s giving your cervix a good drilling. Pounding you into the bedsprings like he was furious, like he was trying to get your core to squelch out the loudest sexual noises. “Yeah? Yeah, you are?” The fingertips tuggin’ on your clit move down your slit, “S’that why you’re shivering this much?”

You were just trembling- “Just sh-shut up and fuck m- oh.”

“What’s that?” Both you and the experienced bedsprings were shrilling out in unison, and every slip of Toji’s vein-covered shaft made you lose your damn mind. “Care to repeat that for your Toji?”

You gasp, “Fuh-fuck you.”

“I’m fucking you.”

And it’s just so hot, so hypnotic how your velvety walls kept clenching ‘round him. Toji’s spine arches as he’s carving out heart-shaped lil’ bruises all the way at the bottom of your pussy, pump after pump.

He can’t stop himself from sliding his tongue between his teeth n’ trying desperately to stop the thin trail of pussydrunken drool leaving him. “You- you know- s’funny…” From trying to stop those exact words from escaping him. “S’funny I-”

You blink your teary lids and look up at him in a way that makes him shiver- “Toji–?”

And when you say his name like that-

“…I wanted to do this-” It’s all that Toji can get out before the rational part of his brain left forces his right hand to leave off your neck and clap his prattling mouth shut. To fight the way you’re trying to tug it off - unsuccessfully. 

Oh-so-embarrassed right down to the blushing with the tips of his ears that you’re finding him weakened. That you’re finding yourself able to push his muscular body down with a firm shove, flipping you two over.

You arch your ready hips and start riding your date at a frantic pace, slapping the cheeks of your ass down on his pelvis until his skin scorches rouge. “What’s that, Toji–?”

“I’ve always wanted to- fuck-” He swears, eyes drooping down nearly shut as you keep riding him angrily. 

Before you can stop it, one of Toji’s beefy hands shoots out to find purchase back on your neck. Squeezing. Manhandling you to grind down harder on his furiously aching cock, “I’ve always wanted to fuck you. A-always. Ever since I hah- first saw you in the villa, in that pretty lil’ dress.”

You’re reeling with his confession - and by the massage of his abs plastering against your front. Toji was built just perfectly for your body, and every figure-eight of your hips makes his happy trail scratch your clit. “So- so then why did you just- spill a drink and run away-”

“Didn’t know how ta talk to the woman of my dreams.” He admits, dopey smile smearing across his spit-glued lips. “Messed up- accidentally spilled a drink n’ ran out of ngh- mortification. How pathetic is that?”

And through it all, you’re seeing the way the flush at his ears extends to his high cheekbones. 

How…cute. 

Pre slips down in creamy dollops between your thighs and sticks them with each other, Toji’s left hand resting on your hips to guide you. Pussydrunken. Out of control. 

“How I wanted to t-talk to you- to haaaah- feel you-” And then he wasn’t just taking your sloppy pace, he was adding to it. With loooong, slurping strikes of his throbbing cock that meet your cadence, “Wanted to see how you’d moan. How you’d clench- fuck-”

He sounded absolutely crazed.

Mouth falling open with gasps, darkened eyes locked on the pattern of your hips. That very familiar pattern. “Are you-” Tone higher. Baritone shattered. “Are you writing your fucking name?”

“Well, we have been paired up now—” You’re admitting, coyly. “S’mine.”

And the only thing you’re getting is a firm planting of his hand on your ass, letting the slap ring across the room. “Write mine.” If you didn’t know any better, then you’d have said that Toji was pleading. Whimpering. “C’mon- c’mon, my darlin’- write mine?”

Pretending to think, “Only if you ask nicely.”

And just then Toji cracks a smirk-

Barely letting your eyes adjust to the attractive expression on his face before he’s mazing his long cock between your walls. Hitting your g-spot dead-on- “S’this nice enough?” He’s slobbering, feral enough that his candied brain only wants to bash n’ bash his pulpy mushroom tip against your favorite spot. “Fucking- fuck, c’mon now.”

“Toji—” You can only whine his name, struggling to match his needy tempo. 

“That all ya got, girl?”

There’s a heat near your clit where Toji’s scalding fingertips are starting to squeeze once more, urgin’ you onwards. Grunting, “Seriously- c’mon c’mon c’mon-” Faster. Sloppier, the palm stuck to restraining your throat is all he needs to move your body ‘round. 

To have your jerky hips drawing a lecherous ‘T’ - just how he likes it. 

“Oh, fuck!” You’re yelping, feeling those familiar sparks of electricity start to build up down your spine. “Don’t think m’gonna last-” 

Toji’s nodding in satisfaction, “There we go there- now my favorite-” The ‘O’ has his vein-decorated shaft stirrin’ inside of you, every puffy ridge filling up your nooks and crannies. Then comes the ‘J’-

“Toji- Toji, mmm, please.”

Stretching you out so widely agape that your vision splotches with white as soon as he’s finishing off - a pointed, thorough ‘I’ that directly thrashes against the door to your womb. Knocking you around from the inside, carnally. Primally. “Heh- spelt my name, my doll.”

You’re cumming - you’re cumming then, and it hits you so hard that you’re doubling over his swole front. Mouth gawking in awe- “Cum-cumming- ngh- fuck-” 

Drowning in your wave of bliss, your cunt emanates the most sloppy squelches as you fuck back n’ forth. Dragging out each peak of your high down his throbbing length, Toji can only watch in pure hypnotization. 

Mossy eyes shining, mouth parted. 

Mind static, you barely even realize what you’re doing when one of your hands leap forward to clasp Toji’s neck the same way he was holding onto yours. Nails digging into his clammy skin with each crash of his probing cockhead - you purse your pretty lips and spit between his pretty lips.

Toji gasps, maw hanging widely.

And it’s enough to make him cum.

Just from that. 

“You- you made me- fuck!” He slurs out, head dropping back into the pillows once he’s pumping you with stringy wads of cum. 

Thump-thump-thumping all the way to drench the back of your womb, each slip n’ slide of his leaking shaft makes you keen. He’s fucking you through your high just as much as he was pumping you till you were overspilling.

With a whine, you’re resting your head on top of his heaving pecs, letting spit puddle out of you like a hose. 

And at this point, you didn’t know who was more gone - you or Toji. 

Who was splashing his dewy wet sap into you until your pussy formed a cute lil’ ring surrounding his base, feeling the treacly cum drip down his shaft like syrup. “Swear you’re gonna be the death of me-” He’s chanting, beefy arms looping around your waist to crush you to his abs. “Gonna be the- the- oh.”

And it takes Toji only one bat of your teary lashes – one split-second - to flip the two of your exhausted bodies over. Going for a second round. He’s rutting the drenched tufts of his happy trail down on your clit, he’s throwing your legs over your shoulders to bend you down into the sloppiest mating press possible. 

A mating press.

A mating press that has him honing his ivory knots of cum deeper inside you, pinpointing the door to your womb. Again and again until you can only throw your head back and take it- 

“Sh-shit-” You manage out through bawling whimpers, fists tightening on the silken sheets.

Something that Toji doesn’t fail to notice - he quickly intertwines his much-bigger hands with yours. Pinning you down in a way that made your heart race- “M’paired with you now.” He softly huffs, burrowed cock probing with each syllable. “You. Me. So let me- haaaah- let me start over, my darlin’?”

Scarred lips tickle the sides of your temples, and he makes you whine with a thumb poking between your puffy folds. Pushin’ back each stubborn, leaking ounce of cum- 

“So stop wastin’ yer time on bastards who don’t deserve it. Let me choose you. Let me- ngh- romance you. Let me make you happy- oh, fuck, I’d give you the whole entire universe, just say the word.” Toji babbles on, and he doesn’t know whether it’s the heat of your cunt or simply you that’s made him so honest tonight. “Let me be yours?”

“Yes-” Your arms find their way around his neck, pulling him close for a lingering kiss. And the hulking man can’t help but feel his heart skip a beat at the way you two fit - two puzzle pieces, thought long lost. “Toji I- oh.”

Your mouth’s dropping into a perfect, sultry ‘oh!’ exactly as he’s pulling your second high out of you.

Sploshing out in thick, palpable waves of your glistening sap- Toji feels the way your cunt floods his pelvis and grins. “Told you I’d make you squirt.”

But you’re barely even registering that right now, barely even feeling anything but the rapid-fire zaps of pleasure invading your lower half. Peaking with pump after pump of Toji’s swollen cock, pushing you through your euphoria.

Departing slick waves of wispy white cum, he was damn near cumming dry just from the sight of you squirting all over his girth.

Drifting a thumb over to collect the wadded-up froth of white, he’s sloooowly pushing the excess back in.

Your mouth drops open as Toji starts up a lazy, loving pace just to watch his buttery mess of cum seep in n’ out of you.  “I th-think I remember something about you saying I’ll cum five times as much as you.” Toji gapes, and you feel the fatness of his tip twitch. “We’re still on number two, Toji…”

Oh, fuck.

And that makes rough, tough Toji Fushiguro blush. “Fuck.”

With such pliable ease, he leans over and bends you in half - all the way until your capped knees hit your tits, all the way until you burn with the delicious stretch. Full both inside and out, with his weight positioned over you. 

Toji’s mouth humming into your own—“Is it too soon to say the L word already, my doll?”

.

.

.

“They don’t even like each other.”

“I hear production’s been running wild since last night.”

“No, but seriously- I wonder if they made it out alive.”

The restless gossip in the villa had been a constant since you and Toji had left for your impromptu date last night, setting everyone at least slightly on edge for what was to become with the explosive pair.

Even Utahime’s looking at Shoko as the whirlwind of whispers rage on- to which she holds the other’s hand. “It’s okay, no one killed each other. Or got injured. Or argued.”  She pauses, “Scratch that last one. And maybe that second last one, too.”

“Not helping, Sho.”

Hell, even snobby, recently-recoupled Naoya looked displeased. And so was the gorgeous new girl who’d left his sulking self to explore her connections - something about ‘being hung up’ over you.

Who’d have thought?

And it certainly was a morning of surprises, it seems - even for a show like this.

Because whilst your two friends ponder over how they should bug the camera crew for details, and Naoya knocks himself back to his senses, saunters in the center of drama themselves.

You and Toji. Hand-in-hand.

And from your breezy pace on the walkway to the villa, you can hear Utahime squeal— Shoko’s fond eyeroll following not long after. 

“Is it that obvious?” You’re worrying over at Toji, who only raises an amused brow. 

It’d been utter chaos this morning trying to gather your wits while your legs were still sore, and every producer had been gawking as the two of you not-so-guiltily waddled out of your suite.

“My darling, yer covered in bruises, your walk’s more of a limp, your lips are still swollen- and fuckin’ pretty.” He raises your sweetly looped hands, pressing a soft kiss on the back of your palm - just for you, but caught by cameras in every direction that’s meant to leave fans rabid. And a particular unpaired Naoya sour-faced, of course. “And then there’s this.”

Begrudgingly, “Your fault, by the way.” 

“I take full responsibility.” Toji shrugs, faux-nonchalance with the blush dusting his ears. “S’long as you’re mine, my doll.”

“Corny.”

“Cold-hearted.”

“Idiot.”

“Still yours.”

You could take that - you’d both be taking this season’s winning prize, anyways.

A/N. Couldn’t stop thinking of how I’d only go on one of these shows if there was a man like Toji there and here we are-

Plagiarism not authorized.

[musashi]

I would like to know the MCR lore please and thank you.

SEPTEMBER 11TH, 2001

new jersey based cartoonist gerard way is commuting through new york city for an interview at a popular animation company

Uh Oh Sisters.

a few miles away from ground zero gerard watches the second tower fall and messages everyone he knows like quit your job join my band

bullies his little brother into learning bass

MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE is formed. main players are gerard, his brother mikey, and two guitar legends named frank iero and ray toro

gerard has since gone on record saying that the powerlessness he felt in watching an attack happen on american soil inspired him to create something. he could not just stand by and do nothing. he had to find a way to connect with people and overcome that fear.

together MCR releases their first record:

I BROUGHT YOU MY BULLETS, YOU BROUGHT ME YOUR LOVE

the only album that isn't particularly concepty. very Hardcore.

skylines and turnstiles was the first MCR song ever written, the first lyrics of which spell out the message the band so badly wanted to communicate-- "you're not in this alone."

the entirety of the song is about 9/11

the biggest throughline in bullets is complicated & toxic relationships, often using monsters like vampires and zombies as mataphors and motifs

"vampires are a standin for alcoholism" is kind of a reocurring thing in MCR lore as a whole

the one thing about this album that is pretty definite story-wise is the tale of the demolition lovers, highlighted in the last song on the album

the demo lovers are on the run from the authorities, likely in some sort of bonnie and clyde sitch. in the end, they are gunned down in the desert and die in each other's arms.

this final note leads into...

THREE CHEERS FOR SWEET REVENGE

it's 2004. MCR releases their second album, widely regarded now to be a cornerstone of the early 2000s scemo movement & aesthetic

black button downs with blood-red ties. red eyeshadow, nude lips, and THICK guyliner. catholicism.

you've seen it. i know you've seen it.

ignore the blonde guy back there.

three cheers chronicles the story of the demolition lovers. they are on the cover. you have seen them.

the man awakens in purgatory, searching for his lost lover. there, he meets the devil, who tells him that if he wants to reunite with her, he must bring him the soul of one thousand evil men.

Okay I Believe You.mp4

after all that killing, the man begins to lose sight of himself. he kills 999 evil men when the devil appears to him once more, and tells him that with all this blood on his hands, the last evil man he must kill is himself.

a few years pass. this album is a big hit with The Freaks but at the moment MCR are not exactly "big" outside of alt music circles. everything changes in 2006, but a little bit before that...

THE PARAMOUR MANSION

gerard fucking way, at this time severely mentally ill, believes wholeheartedly in suffering for ones art

posts the whole band up in a haunted mansion that has certifiably driven several past residents insane

gerard suffers from chronic nightmares in this mansion where he witnesses his loved ones dying over and over. he records himself recounting this and puts it in a song called sleep.

the band have designated "heavy rooms" where they scream and yell and cry and get out all their demons. gerard leaves deranged post it notes all over his. one of these notes reads "we are all a black parade"

mikey's mental health gets so bad in this place that he becomes violently suicidal and has to check himself into a clinic

allegedly, gerard writes "famous last words" about mikey's struggles.

before he leaves mikey is insane about a song they're working on called disenchanted. there are stories of him just whispering it into his bandmates' ears at night.

this whole experience just sucks for everyone, but unfortunately for me wishing better for them, we get one of the greatest rock albums of all time out of it.

THE BLACK PARADE

jesus fucking christ

chronicles the story of a dying cancer patient looking back on his life and realizing he was kind of an asshole.

he committed war crimes, drank his sorrows away, and treated his lover like shit.

as he lies there dying in his hospital bed he realizes he is burdened with regret and wants to redo everything and change.

a core tenet of this album is that death comes to you in the form of your fondest memory. THE BLACK PARADE is a manifestation of this--as you might have heard, when the patient was a young boy his father t

the parade he saw as a child returns to him, cloaked in black, and guides him toward the afterlife.

he maybe resists death and his allowed his second chance. up to you!

when MCR toured this show, they did not tour as MCR--they toured as The Black Parade. i was there. in 2007. they came on stage and said "we are the Black Parade."

remember this for later!

this tour was, i shit you not, a full theatrical performance unlike anything you would ever see in that era.

the album begins with the patient about to flatline. they wheel gerard out on a hospital gurney.

seriously, please watch this

just watch the first like minute if you don't wanna watch the whole thing. PLEASE.

you need to understand the above wasn't some special thing they did for this taped live show. they did this EVERY night. i saw this happen.

the show ended with huge amounts of black and white confetti falling from the ceiling, the same confetti from the music video for welcome to the black parade.

THEATRICS. i called gerard a cartoonist at the beginning of this writeup. but at this time he had also written and published an original comic no one besides MCR fans had heard of or read.

that is certainly not the case any longer.

point: gerard way is a storyteller. and it shows in this tour.

at the beginning of this era, gerard sheared his long beautiful hair short and dyed it platinum blonde to give off the effect of being sickly. the people who don't know them from the revenge era usually know them from this one.

you've most certainly heard the song that skyrocketed them to stardom. i don't know what else to say about it. it is lauded for a reason. i did not know at the time of it releasing that i would become an anthem of my childhood heart and soul, and a whole generation of misfit alt kids with scars on their wrists. but it is The MCR Song for a reason, and that is because it is definitive--dark, heavy, black-coated music... about how you cannot lay down and die, motherfucker. the world is hell! your heart will break! GET THE FUCK UP! FIGHT, YOU BASTARD! YOU HAVE TO FIGHT!

that is, above all else, what MCR writes music about. remember that.

rather unfairly, this is also around the time the media started painting them as a suicide cult brainwashing troubled teens into suicide and self harm.

the (sort of) last song on the black parade contains the lyrics "i am not afraid to keep on living."

here is my show last night singing those lyrics. you should listen. skip to 2:40 for the good part. i am there amongst the sea of voices, my whole body shaking with sobs as i struggle to get the words "i am not afraid to walk this world alone" out.

beyond the Concerned Parents, much of the rock scene rejected MCR due to their unabashedly authentic, earnest, and yes, emo selves. at the time, MCR could not be defined as emo--but emo would eventually reshape itself as a genre around them.

MCR was also unapologetically queer in a time where it was not safe to be so. gerard and frank would kiss with tongue on stage and wear makeup. gerard would sing about kissing men and wearing dresses. they are all married with wives and children, and while gerard is nonbinary himself, they've said time and time again that this weaponization of queerness was literally to get dudebro homophobes to leave their show.

these people would shout the f slur at gerard and he would limp his wrist and say thank you honey. it ruled. it was 2006, that was not something you did.

the biggest and most important culmination of the pushback that came with MCR's stardom is coincidentally my favourite post-reunion MCR performance of all time.

here, they play reading & leeds, where an incredibly rowdy crowd of hard rock, hypermasculine dudebro types throw rocks and bottles on stage the whole time. all the while, gerard smiles down at them like a playful trickster god on high, singing i wouldn't front the scene if you paid me and give me all your poison and you're running after something that you'll never kill and fire at will.

god.

eventually, they would officially "kill" the black parade (the band) off at a final show in mexico. this would lead into another tour where they played as themselves, titled "the black parade is dead!"

things go quiet for a few years. and then...

DANGER DAYS: THE TRUE LIVES OF THE FABULOUS KILLJOYS

gerard: please let me write a comic. i have to write a comic. i need to write a comic. i must write a comic.

gerard writes a comic, and everyone is cool with passing it off as a rock album.

CALIFORNIA: IN THE DISTANT FUTURE YEAR OF 2019. five years prior, the analog/helium wars decimated the landscape and shifted control into the hands of Better Living Industries (BLind for short) a dictatorship localized into the bounds of futuristic Battery City. resisting this monochromatic, controlling government are the Fabulous Killjoys: colourful outlaws in sick ass sentai costumes that roam the desert and fight for liberation.

the sound is completely different. gone are the emo/gothy undertones and romantic, dark aesthetics. we are punk rock as shit, now, and we're going to blow up the government.

gerard dyes his hair bright red. he does this a month after i do the same. that has nothing to do with the lore, it still just makes me lose my mind to this day.

asshole stealing my drip. we even had the same fucked up haircut.

anyways, here's where we are now:

the music videos tell a cohesive story. the album tells another one. a comic releases alongside it all, telling a third one. they all kinda sorta interpret the story in different ways, but it is still the most high concept and well-built world that MCR canon has. this era's aesthetic was so delicious that mentally ill transgenders on tumblr are still RPing it and writing fic to this day.

at this point, MCR reaches a strange kind of impasse where they are simultaneously at the peak of their career and less relevant than ever. they're entrenched in celebrity culture. mikey is cheating on his girlfriend. gerard is anorexic and drinking. shit's not the greatest.

at the same time, a lot of their former fans are not crazy about the new sound / aesthetic

an MCR song gets on glee. this is, in large part, considered The End for a lot of people.

US politics are important here: Obama's in office. things are looking up. the culture of the country is shifting. and that begs the question... why did the world need MCR?

the world needed MCR because the world was at war under a republican president. the world needed MCR because the twin towers fucking exploded into flames. the world needed MCR because the future was bleak and scary, and they had to do something. and they did something. and the something was done.

it was done.

it was over.

MARCH 23RD, 2013

It's over.

They break up.

They work their solo careers. They live their lives. They have kids. Gerard becomes a pretty legendary comics writer.

The end.

A year later, on an album containing some unreleased music / b sides, they release their final song, on an album titled May Death Never Stop You.

"Fake Your Death."

It's the only song MCR has ever written where the message could not more clearly be "Give up. It's done."

I choose defeat. I walk away.

I can't listen.

I don't listen.

It hurts too much.

Life goes on.

LIFE GOES ON

as gen z grow up and discover music, a beautiful second wave of my chem fans enter the space. overwhelmingly, we learn in time that MCR's greatness is not a product of the cultural moment or nostalgia--i begin to see hundreds of tiktoks of teenagers in the mid 2010s lamenting being born in the wrong generation because i missed seeing MCR live.

the elder emos comiscerate. the g note meme is born.

watch a couple compilations. notice how all the teenagers are wearing the same MCR shirt? that's because it was the ONLY official merch available for ages after they broke up. whenever i see that shirt, it's like an arrow in my heart. it's a signifier of someone who came in late, and there is nothing more beautiful than that to me. the music is good. intragenerationally, you understand that, too.

the way brothers have cited one of their biggest inspirations ever to be the smashing pumpkins. mikey went on record saying once that the smashing pumpkins is everything they wanted to be.

people begin to overthink this.

the timeline of the smashing pumpkins is as follows: they were together for 12 years, broke up for 6, and then got back together.

mcr was together... for 12 years.

if they got back together after a 6 year hiatus, the year would be... 2019.

2019, the year that the killjoys raised up their lasers toward the oppressive and fascistic government.

WHICH COULD MEAN NOTHING

2019.

45 begins his 3rd year in office.

This is, in case you didn't know, going very poorly.

Halloween. The MCR socials... change their pfp.

more symbols trickle in on their insta story. something is being teased/promoted. we expect it is likely just a re-release, or some more unreleased music, or a merch thing for the spooky season.

some people can't help remembering a little while back, though... when one of the jonas brothers said that he heard MCR rehearsing in the same venue as them. how odd that was, considering MCR broke up.

when frank was confronted about this, he rolled his eyes and answered in the same negative he always did, obviously tired of hearing it all these years.

"man, that rumour's like a broken clock."

YES. YES IT IS.

out of fucking NOWHERE, the MCR reunion is announced.

they do this on halloween night--when the veil between the living and the dead is thinnest. remember this.

i don't want to try to put into words what the energy of this show is like. all i can do is BEG you to watch the multicam cut of it. i am begging. i am pleading.

six long years of no MCR. six long years of new fans mourning what they didn't get.

and look. just LOOK at that sea of fingerless gloves and black t-shirts. look at that sea of people dressing like they did when they were teenagers, alongside teenagers who weren't there to see it but are now living their dreams of doing so.

look at gerard's dad getup. look at how much healthier and happier he looks. look at how overjoyed everyone is to be there.

the medley at the beginning. the curtain falling. im not okay (a secondary emo anthem to wttbp) heralding the dawn of a new era.

the audience chanting mikey's name as he plays the final bassline of the kids from yesterday.

ADDITIONAL LORE: MCR more or less always plays the same song for their encore--helena. this is because the last line of helena is meant to be their parting words to their audience, so long and goodnight.

they do not do this here. the final song they play, aptly saved for last, is welcome to the black parade.

the final words of which, are, of course

WE'LL CARRY ON

take a good look at gerard's california 2019 getup

any witch worth their salt will tell you that's a sigil on his arm. specifically, it's a witches' wheel, which can be translated.

the way a lot of witchcraft works is through intention. you put an intention to an object, and the magick flows through that intention.

when translated, this wheel spells out my chemical romance.

another part of spellcasting is the idea of 'charging' a spell. there are many ways to do this, depending on what you're trying to manifest, but to put a sigil on your body with a clear intention and wear it to a massive gathering of energy, like, say, a room full of people all singing the lyrics to that intention in perfect unison...

well. that's damn near ritualistic, in fact, i daresay it's...

A SUMMONING

after several smaller teasers throughout the week, the official MCR youtube releases this video. i will not explain it to you. i am demanding you watch it, given everything i have just explained.

this is the video that announced the reunion tour. a 13 minute long love letter to the fandom, told through the eyes of one of us. rife with easter eggs, theatrical as can be, and, most notably of all, ending with this:

the sigil, charged. glowing with energy from the fandom in that california venue, who used their passion and power to revive my chemical romance from the dead.

my chemical romance will tour in 2020. barring extenuating circumstances, there is nothing that will stop them from playing their music for us one more time.

YES THERE IS

it turns out being in a fascist government means that sometimes a deadly infectious disease will spread unmitigated and shut down the world.

it turns out that when the killjoys said "die with your mask on" they were a little too on the mark.

OKAY, REDO.

2022.

it is still not safe to go to concerts, but the world does not care about public health or disabled people, so they keep doing them anyways.

mcr reunites, and releases a new song called the foundations of decay. it could not more clearly be about their legacy.

the branding for the new tour is themed around this concept of decay and rot. flies specifically are a huge theme. before each show, the beating of fly wings in massive numbers echoes like static throughout the stage speakers. the fans collectively name this "the swarm"

what this tour lacks in cohesive theming it makes up for in sheer fun. gerard wears a different outfit every night. he does a lot of drag. they spraypaint messages on the drum head--some nonsense, some sentimental. you should watch the strange aeons video about this where she goes through all of them, as well as all the funny shit that happened on the tour.

the vibe of this reunion was very much 'let's have as much fucking fun as possible.'

it was. it was fun. and it was fun enough that they took all the money they earned from these massive reunion shows, put their heads together, and said let's fucking do it again.

PRESENT DAY: THE GLORIOUS NATION OF DRAAG

you are here.

randomly one day in november 2024, MCR announces A FUCKING STADIUM TOUR, appropriately named "long live the black parade"

curiously, the theming of this tour looks decidedly... not black paradey.

the strange, not-quite-russian lettering is a fucking conlang unique to this era. it starts showing up in all the various promotional videos they release.

"It has been seventeen years since The Black Parade was sent to the MOAT. In that time, a great Dictator has risen to power, bringing about "THE CONCRETE AGE”; a glorious time of stability and abundance in the history of DRAAG. His Grand Immortal Dictator wishes to celebrate our rich and storied culture, fine foods, and musical entertainments by welcoming you to these great demonstrations of power and resolve. And lending voice and song for the first time in six thousand two hundred and forty six days, their work privilege ceremoniously reinstated, will be His Grand Immortal Dictator's National Band... The Black Parade. Long Live Draag"

here in the nation of Draag, the Grand Immortal Dictator has revived The Black Parade from the dead, forcing them to play their album in its entirety, wear their silly little outfits, play their silly little nostalgia anthems.

all the while, intending to use them as a mouthpiece for his pro-war, oppressive propaganda.

the stadium show is HIGH THEATRICS. only one venue knows the storyline of it so far!

LUCKILY FOR YOU I WAS THERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

last night, me and 30 thousand other emos watched as the black parade danced for us, corpses reanimated. gerard shambled and slurred his way across the stage, all the while being watched like a hawk by an imposing government agent who handed him documents and told him what to say and do.

every audience member was given a sign that said yea or nay. at one point, we were asked to vote on if we should allow 4 new elected officials into the government.

the audience overwhelmingly voted yes. gerard commanded their execution, and they were shot on the b stage in front of us, their corpses dragged off by the MOAT.

throughout the setlist, the band begin to fight back. gerard resists the government in increasingly big ways, refusing to be their zombified mouthpiece. when this reaches a head, they pull the band off the jumbotron and start playing quiz shows and ads for groceries.

during mama, the curtain pulls back to reveal military tracking & specs. blueprints for a missile launch. the whole stage flashes red and begins to burn. new lyrics are added, and gerard presents the imposing suit man with a dagger.

during disenchanted--which had not been played live in 17 years--the stadium was bathed in a sea of blue light from fans taping paper to their phone flashlights in tribute to the underloved song. all the while, a Draag politician speaks of duty and justice and obligation to one's country.

we're taken to a launch station in the middle of a wheat field. as famous last words is playing, we watch the missile be fired.

the carnage that ensues is the sole background to a lone acoustic guitar that's been on stage the whole night, untouched. ray comes out and begins to play it, and it's hard to tell what it is at first until the rest of the band joins in--

an acoustic version of The End. the first track on the album, which we have already heard. it is a funeral procession, and gerard understandably always sings it bombastically and high-energy to welcome the audience. this time, his cadence is mournful and slow, desperate and wailing.

the show begins anew. we listen to the same song, once more.

the suit man has, for reasons unbeknownst to me, changed into a pierrot-looking clown costume. sensing resistance, he gives chase to gerard, who at this point in the song is singing the lyrics SAVE ME! GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!

all the while, there has been a chalk outline ominously carved out in the middle of the stage.

the clown and gerard fight. the dagger from before stabs gerard, punishing him for his insolence. bleeding out on hands and knees, he drags himself to the chalk outline, singing lyrics to another song--we'll carry on. We'll carry on.

he collapses into place, freed of the dictator's control, allowed to finally rest. the rest of the band members are dragged offstage by uniformed men. subversively, mikey--who has thus far been the kenny mccormick of MCR lore--escapes. ray is dragged off, shredding wildly the whole time. he refuses to stop playing until he cannot any longer.

the clown dances around to Blood, which is a hidden track that was at the end of the black parade. it is a perfect fucking song for a clown to dance to, especially when that clown is covered in the blood of the guy he just murdered. at the end of the song, he rips his shirt open to reveal a bomb strapped to his chest, and kills himself in a satisfying blaze of glory.

all the while, that same confetti from the original black parade tour is falling down around us all.

when i saw the black parade tour in 2007, i cannot explain how i knew this, but i had this feeling... they're holding back.

my father said to me that night, commit to memory everything you just saw here. you will never see anything like that again.

my dad was fucking wrong.

thanks for listening!

[barnesonfilm]

★ summary: coming home after a long day of work to your boyfriend, clark kent.

★ pairing: clark kent x reporter!reader

★ warnings: 18+ mdni, fem reader, smut, unprotected p-in-v, oral f-receiving, breeding kink if you squint, praise, use of y/n, cursing, potential superman spoilers, ungodly levels of clark kent being the best boyfriend in the world

★ word count: 3.7k

★ a/n: I saw superman tuesday and I have not been able to get clark out of my head, specifically the scene of them in the apartment. this is based heavily on that. this is also my first published writing, so please be kind to me or else...

The smell of pancakes enveloped your senses the moment you unlocked the door to your apartment. You knew automatically that once you walked into your kitchen, your boyfriend would be standing there still in his work slacks, slaving over the stove, making much more food than necessary for two people. This was beginning to become a pattern, an endearing one, but a pattern nonetheless.

“Honey, I’m home!” You drawled, hanging your coat up and letting your bag fall to the floor. As always, your instincts were correct. Clark was standing by the stove, his white button-up shirt still on, with his sleeves pulled up to his elbows. 

“Hi darlin’,” He said without even turning around. His eyes were laser-focused on flipping the pancakes onto a plate. Soon, the pan was abandoned, and he was rushing towards you, picking you up with ease. Giggles escaped your mouth when he spun you around the dim kitchen, pressing small kisses all over your face. 

“Did you miss me?” A squeal left your lips, kissing him back feverishly. 

“It’s been so long.” He chided, acting as if you two didn’t see each other in passing during your entire work day. Being a reporter alongside him at the Daily Planet had its ups and downs. Keeping your relationship a secret was tiresome, but worth it to avoid all the unnecessary attention. Besides, what's one more secret? There were no Superman photo ops or inside scoops from reporters about your relationship—simply Y/n and Clark. 

“Oh yeah?” You mocked batting your eyes at his giddy face. You’d never get tired of how excited he was to love you. 

“Every second without you is torturous.” His eyes shone from the reflection of the city lights reflecting off the windows. Once you were back on solid ground, you took a step around the kitchen, looking at his impressive spread of various breakfast foods. Notably, the stack of at least a dozen pancakes.

“One day we’ll have breakfast at breakfast time.” The teasing tone laced your voice as you reached to grab plates from the top shelf. He strided over and placed his hands on your hips, sliding underneath your shirt. His large hands engulfed your waist. 

“Oh, I see. I come home after a long day of work and slave over this hot stove for you, yet you’re so cruel to me.” He couldn’t keep a straight face as he said this, helping you grab the plates down. 

“A long day of interviewing yourself, huh? Tell me how that works?” You bite back as you both danced around each other in the dining room, setting the table and making each other's plates. 

“That’s not fair. It’s hard work knowing what to say-” 

“How is it hard work?” He closes his eyes tightly at your question, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

“The questions are difficult to answer sometimes-“ 

“You make the questions!” 

“Yeah, well, I’m doing twice the work!” His arms flailed in front of him before he gestured for you to take a seat. The vein in his neck was protruding slightly, as it always did when you worked him up. You placed a gentle kiss on his forearm as he pushed your chair in for you. 

“You’re ridiculous.” You scoffed as he sat in front of you, passing the syrup. 

“And you love me.” There was that beaming smile again. A smile that could light up a thousand suns. The only reason you got out of bed some days. 

“Yeah,” You smiled. “I suppose I do.” There were very few things in this world you were sure of, and the biggest one was how much you loved the man sitting in front of you. From the moment he spilled coffee all over your desk and blushed so crimson you thought he was going to pass out. There hasn’t been a moment since you’ve felt unloved or unsafe. 

“One of these days, someone’s going to wonder why Superman likes Clark Kent so much.” You brought up, His eyebrows now in a constant furrow. With a mouthful of pancakes, he mumbled something incoherent. Once he swallowed, he began his arguments again. 

“It’s not hard to believe he’d find a journalist to confide in and only be comfortable with that one.” He rambled, not meeting your eyes. “It makes much more sense than him going on a press tour.”

“Isn't it a little morally wrong to bias yourself so much?” You finally ask. “You’re not gonna ask any questions that are uncomfortable to answer.” 

“Eat your pancakes. That I made. With love. Now.” He was tabling this conversation for now. Not a hint of actual anger in his tone. Your response was angrily stabbing the syrupy mess on your plate. 

“So aggressive.” His voice was barely a whisper as he failed at hiding his amusement behind his drink.

After a little more debating and a whole lot of pancakes later, you both stood side by side at the sink. It was an unspoken rule that if he cooked, you’d wash, but only if he was allowed to dry. He stood beside you, meticulously wiping the plates with a washcloth as if it were his favorite activity in the world. His brows furrowed in concentration, making sure there were no streaks. These were some of his favorite moments with you. Mundane activities like washing dishes, grocery shopping, or doing laundry. It made him feel normal; there were no secrets to be had within these walls. Just love in its purest form. 

The comfortable silence in the kitchen was soon broken by a large splash as the plate slipped from his hand back into the soapy water. It made a comical flop as it splashed water all over you, drenching you. The man's shoulders beside you began to shake silently, failing miserably to contain his amusement. 

“It’s not funny!” You shriek, trying to wipe the soap bubbles off. 

“Oh, it’s kinda funny.”

 You snatched the washcloth from his hand and tried to pat dry your now-soaked shirt. Aggressively patting the fabric while glaring up at him.

“Come on, I'll put it in the wash for you.” 

He did feel bad. Despite all his attributes, he was the clumsiest person alive. It was endearing when it wasn’t ruining your shirts, or your couch cushions, or the rugs. At least this time it was just dishwater. 

Trapping your bottom lip between your teeth, you peered up at the man. “Is this just some elaborate scheme to get me out of my shirt, Mr. Kent?” 

His composure shifted, and his giggles stopped abruptly. 

“No? No! Well, no, but wait-“ He rambled his face turning a pale shade of pink, “ No! But I’m not complaining now.” 

Suddenly, the mood shifted in the room from playful to tense with desire. Taking the teasing even further, you leaned back against the damp sink and grabbed the bottom button of your shirt, popping it open. Clark let out a shaky breath, his eyes never leaving yours. Before your fingers could even reach the second button, his body was colliding with yours. 

Your lips connect feverishly, teeth almost clacking together at how fast he moves. He tasted sickly sweet, still smelling faintly of syrup. A moan escaped the back of your throat, and he swallowed it greedily. His hands knocked yours out of the way, gently resuming your unbuttoning. The shirt was opened and thrown across the room in record time. With your damp shirt out of the way, he lifted you and plopped you down on the counter, his lips never leaving your skin. 

“What happened to putting my shirt in the wash?” No hint of real concern was in your voice as he dragged his lips to your neck, pressing hot, wet kisses on the newly exposed skin. Nipping at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, making you mewl in his grasp. 

“I’ll buy you all the shirts you could ever want.” His words slurred. “I will give you the world.” A promise he intended to keep. 

Your hands instinctively tangled in his unruly curls when he dropped to his knees, leaving a trail of open-mouth kisses over your chest and down to your navel. Pant buttons were fumbled with, and he took his time carefully pulling your bottoms off your legs. It took every ounce of his impulse control not to rip the fabric off your body. 

Your eyes met as he pressed a gentle kiss to your inner thigh. Taking the time to admire the hunger swirling around in his almost black irises. If only the world could see him now, on his knees, looking up at you as if you were a god. Ready to worship at his temple. 

Before you could fully soak in the sight between your legs, he attached his mouth greedily to your cunt, devouring you with fever. Eyes rolling to the back of your head as the pleasure licked up your spine. His fingers gripped your thighs, keeping you spread apart for him.

“Fuck-“ A gasp escaped from your chest, causing him to chuckle into you.

You tugged gently at the ends of his hair as he continued his assault. Nothing could be heard but your panting and the sounds of him lapping greedily at your core like a man starved. It wasn’t long before your legs were tensing around his head tightly. He moaned softly into your wetness, this turning him on as much as it did you. The vibrations caused your hips to jolt in shock, grinding yourself against him.

This spurred him to slip his hand around, guiding a finger into your entrance. His fingers moved in tandem with his mouth as he sucked your folds greedily. The one quickly turned into two, and soon he was curling them up into your sweet spot, making you see stars. His brows furrowed in determination to pry all of the pleasure he could out of you. 

“Oh fuck, Clark, I’m-“ Your head instinctively went to lean back in the haziness of your pleasure, but before it could make impact with the hard cabinet, Clark gripped your legs tight and in the blink of an eye you were transported to the bedroom, your back hitting the pillows gently. Nothing but a gentle whoosh and a change of location. A slight dizziness fell over you at this, your eyes closing to fight it off. All while his mouth and fingers never once stopped. There was no time to process what had just happened before your orgasm hit you.

A desperate moan of his name escaped as you came for him, hips bucking wildly. You had to pry his head away from you to ride out your aftershocks. If it were up to him, he’d live with his head between your legs. His face was glistening with your release, his grin cocky.

“Did you break the sound barrier to make sure I didn’t hit my head?” Disbelief in your voice. Your legs were shaking, your throat dry. 

“Would you rather I let you hit your head?” He hovered above you, his eyes almost black as he devoured you with his eyes. 

The grin that formed on your face was contagious. “God, I love you.”

“And I love you.” A kiss pressed to your neck, traveling down your chest again. 

You leaned up on your elbows to meet his gaze. “If you loved me, you’d take your clothes off. I don’t think it’s fair you’re fully dressed.”

 “Yes, ma'am.” He salutes, that Kansas drawl he denied was slipping through. He ripped his shirt off in one fluid moment, almost surprised he didn’t rip the thing in half dramatically. Taking your own time to admire his chiseled chest and the way his arms flex with each frantic movement.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” A dreamy sigh left your lips as you watched him crawl back in between your legs. 

“I’m the lucky one.” He said, giving you that bright smile before pressing his mouth to yours. You kissed him back feverishly. Your hands immediately went to his chest, feeling the hard ridges and curves of him. It wasn’t long before you were both bare, what little clothes remained long flung across the room. He was everywhere, all over you. His body lying between your hips, his hands roaming every inch of skin, while his hips rutted against yours messily. His hard length brushes against your inner thigh.

“Can I make you feel good again, baby?” He asks, his eyes meeting yours as he looks up from your chest. Nodding feverishly as he takes your hardened nipple into his mouth, circling the bud with his tongue. 

“Use your words, sweetheart.” He demanded, letting your nipple go with a loud, wet pop. 

“Yes, yes, please.” You begged. “Need to feel you.” 

He was never one to deprive you of what you needed. So he eagerly obliged, gripping his length in his hand, stroking himself a few times before lining himself up with your entrance. He slowly pressed himself into you, a whimper escaping his lips. His eyes squinted in pleasure when he bottomed out, your hips flush to his.  He gave you a moment to adjust to his size, as he stretched you in the most delicious way. A subtle shift of his hips into you and your head was thrown back into the pillows. The sheer size of him had you clinging to his shoulders like a lifeline. 

“Oh my god.” The words tore from your throat violently. 

“No god here tonight, baby, just me.” The cockiness exuded from his voice. Nothing made him feel more on top of the world than looking down at you, so full of him, writhing around in pleasure.  

“Need you.” You finally found your voice. You were throbbing around him begging for him to move. 

“I know. I got you.” He assured you snapping his hips into yours in a rhythm that took your breath away. Your nails digging into his shoulder blades so hard he'd be bleeding if he was anyone else. The slap of hips against each other was music to your ears. The wet friction of skin rubbing against each other deliciously. 

“Doing so good, sweet girl.” His voice came out in a broken moan, taken over by how good you were squeezing him. The compliment had you cockdrunk, mumbling broken curses. One of his hands gripped the bed frame, and his other wrapped around your thigh, holding it up to his chest as he entered you even deeper than before. His forehead pressed against yours, both of your panting and moans filling the air around. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t speak. All you could do was enjoy the feeling of him moving so deep inside you. 

“Taking my cock so well.” He praised watching where your wetness formed a ring around his length. He slid in and out with no resistance. The lewd sounds bouncing off the walls. He committed this sight to memory. 

He could feel you clenching around him as his hand slipped down, rubbing tight circles on your clit. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head, your second earth shattering orgasm of the night on its way.

As if he read your mind he rubbed his thumb over your temple. “You’re gonna come again for me, huh?” He grunted, not relenting from his pace.

Words couldn’t form on your lips, just whines of his name over and over as your pleasure hit you in waves. He could feel everything. Every sigh of pleasure you made. He could feel the goosebumps rising beneath your skin, the sound of your blood rushing in your veins, and the subtle twitch of your body when you were about to come. He knew your body like the back of his hand.   

 “Oh yeah, you are. There you go. Let go for me.” 

You were coming around him before you could even warn him. Your brain was so lost in pleasure, you couldn’t even register that you were repeating his name over and over. 

“Good. Girl.” He punctuated with his hips, which were slowly losing their rhythm. Making sure to ride out your high with each deep thrust. 

“You’re gonna make me come.” His grunts came out faster as he gripped the bed frame tightly. The sound of splintering wood comes from behind you. Lost in the haze, you couldn’t care less if he broke yet another bed frame. 

“Please, baby, come for me.” Pressing lazy kisses down the side of his neck as his hips stilled and jolted inside of you. His groans were muffled by your hair as he drowned in his euphoria. His cock twitching inside of you as he came. Heavy breaths against your neck, he kept his thrusts slow, giving you every drop of himself. 

His head lolled gently to your chest, his body crashing onto yours gently. Bodies sweatily intertwined, basking in the afterglow. 

“I love you.” You whispered, rubbing his back gently as you both came down. His thumb was tracing small circles on your hips. 

 “I love you too, my beautiful girl .” He pressed a soft kiss to your lips before slowly pulling himself out of you with a hiss. But not without taking time to admire his messy handiwork. 

“You’re such a boy.” You chided as his hand drifted around the mess between your legs, his fingers trailing gently around your clit. Your hips jolted due to the sensitivity. 

“Can you blame me?” He smiled bashfully. He gave you one last playful pat before he crawled off of you, heading into the ensuite. 

Twirling around in the sheets dreamily, you watched his bare figure stroll into the bathroom. The sound of the bath water starting distantly made your heart swell. 

“Ms. Y/l/n, your bath awaits.” He bowed in the doorway, illuminated by a few candles he had lit on the counter. It wasn’t long before he was swooping you up bridal style. He placed you gently into the water, and as soon as your muscles hit the warm water, you couldn’t help the groan that escaped your lips. 

“I’ll be right back.” Another kiss to your forehead as he went to change the sheets on the bed and gather pajamas for you both. You weren’t sure how you got so lucky for this man to worship you. Placing pink bath salts into your bath and picking out pajama sets for you. You weren’t surprised to see a towel in the warmer either. 

The water sloshed around the edges of the tub when he slid in behind you. You both settled comfortably together. Your weight on top of him, legs tangled together, and his arms wrapped around your shoulders. His hard shoulder was the perfect pillow for you. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You mumbled while his hands smoothed down your hair. His own eyes closed, relishing in the feeling. 

“It’s a good thing you’ll never have to know.’ He reassured you, holding you even tighter in his arms, like at any moment's notice you’d fade away. Idle small talk filled the steamy bathroom. From how ridiculous the new deadlines were at work to how he’d been handling the conflict in foreign nations. 

“You just have too much heart. That’s not a bad thing, Clark. The world just hasn’t caught up yet. Don't let them take any of that kindness away from you.” 

“I’m just doing the best I can. I’m saving so many lives, but I can never save them all, and it kills me.” His voice was thick with emotion. You turned your body around and straddled his hips, careful not to flood the bathroom as you moved around. Grasping his face in your hands, you looked deeply into his icy blue eyes. 

“Exactly that. You are doing your best, my love. You’ve saved thousands of people, and you’ve inspired even more. You are a beacon of hope in dark times, yes, but don’t let that weight crush you.”

He responded by kissing you passionately. Not as hungry and desperate as earlier, but gentle, full of unsaid words of affirmation. Nothing but love flowing between you two. 

“I’m so in love with you. Every day, I find a new reason to love you even more than I do now.” You managed to say between his bashful kisses. 

“I’m gonna love you every single day for the rest of your life.” 

“Pretty sure the saying is “rest of my life.” 

“I meant what I said. There is no me without you. I refuse to exist in a world without you in it.” His eyes were steady. You knew he meant every single word he said. Your brows furrowed, and you leaned forward, attacking your lips together again. His hands grabbed your hips, positioning them over his own. 

Before things could heat up again, your small oasis was soon cut short by the shrill sound of a ringtone you’ve learned to despise. The small flip phone on which you drew the Superman signal on the back of the day he bought it. His body tensed upon hearing it, knowing he’d have to leave. There were always going to be people to save. 

“What terrible timing they have.” His tone is flat, taking one last look to admire your bare figure on his lap.

A disappointed smile graced your mouth. “It’s okay.” You reassured him, his soft, tired eyes meeting your own. “Like you said. We have the rest of our lives.” 

 “I’ll come back as soon as I can.” He promised as he shimmied out of the porcelain tub. A chuckle left your mouth as you heard him whooshing through the apartment, getting dressed, not before answering the phone. You’d bet and then win that it was Guy on the other line giving him a hard time.

He gave you one last goodbye before he stepped out of the open window, flying off to save the world yet again. You settled back into the bath, letting the water engulf you. You knew what you were getting into the day he asked you to be his. The ache of missing him, the worry of something happening, yet you’d take it any day for the honor of being loved by him. So you’d enjoy the bath he drew for you, put on the pajamas he picked out, and curl up in the bed he made for you. Waiting for him to be back by your side. He’d go out and fight tooth and nail to save everyone to make it back to you in one piece. Because no matter what, he’d move the earth to make sure he was back by your side.

[theglassofmiddleearth]

Imagine Being Isekai'ed into KPOP DEMON HUNTERS. (part 9)

I'M BACK! Sorry I took a break! BUTTT we're nearing the end guys!(i think either one more big chapter or 2 chapters, not TOO sure) BUT DON'T FEAR! I DO HAVE EXTRA SCENES/BLOOPERS THAT WILL ALSO BE WRITTEN! Now, This chapter IMO does feel a little rushed but PLEASE ENJOY IT ANYWAYS. As always, my tag list is full. HAVE A GOOD READ! (Also thinking of covering Free as well XD)

Previous

The days following that were gruelling.

The idol awards were fast approaching and Y/N had spent the week buried in work for What It Sounds Like. Takedown was supposed to be released in two days, during the Idol awards along with What It Sounds Like.

The song required much more work than the other tracks she had previously worked on, from creating MIDI tracks to timing vocals and tuning harmonies. Everything was meshing together, creating a splitting pain in her head.

Just as Huntr/x was busy, the Saja Boys were also busy. Their influence spread faster than the black plague in the thirteenth century. Edits were being made, dance covers and even ships between the boys. (Y/N was blissfully unaware of the fact that there were a plethora of them shipping her with each of the boys, due to her permanent working status.)

The sheer complexity of layering, and the realisation that she didn’t have access to a crowd’s cheers, created a intricacy that Y/N was struggling to recreate.

‘Girls, I’m sorry. I don’t think I can get What It Sounds Like out in time with Takedown.’ Y/N said, pressing her palm against her forehead, feeling a dull ache.

‘That’s okay! We’re already winning so many awards with Golden!’ Rumi said cheerfully, voice crackling through the speaker.

‘I’m so sorry Rumi. Zoey and Mira too, I’m sorry to have let you down.’ Y/N closed her eyes, sitting down at her kitchen counter. She slumped over as the phone on the other end was passed to someone else.

‘No, it’s okay Y/N/N! Please don’t overwork yourself!.’ Zoey’s voice filtered through the noise of the dressing rooms. They had just finished taping another awards show where this time, they had taken a win from the Saja Boys.

‘That’s right Y/N. We care about you more than a performance. Do you need us to do anything? Re-record lines? Get you some food?’ Mira’s tone was calm but laced with an almost undetectable hint of concern. The girls were so sweet, she didn’t know how but, it seemed as if they were closer than before Y/N had transmitigated into this world into this character.

‘I’m alright Mira I promise.’ Y/N laughed, somewhat enjoying the girls fussing over her. ‘You guys did everything perfectly, there's just things I don't think I’ve gotten right so far. I just need a little more time.’

‘Alright, if you say so.’ Mira relented, with a soft breath. ‘But call us if you need anything okay?’

‘You got it Mira!’

The girls had said goodbye in union just as the elevator doors opened, revealing a mildly annoyed group of men.

‘Ugh, did you see the look those hunters gave us when they won?’ Beom grouched, taking off his shoes, placing them neatly on the shelf before running over to collapse on the sofa.

‘Welcome back guys.’ Y/N said, sprawling over her own marble counter top, her voice weak. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to eat or drink that day. It was just that she had completely forgotten due to the immense stress she had placed herself under. Unintentionally, work had come before anything else.

‘Did you work all day again Y/N?’ Jinu asked, his voice was similar to a wife’s soft, scolding tone.

‘Uhh…’ Jinu fumbled, walking over to the kitchen with a red neck.

‘I’m sorry honey, I’ll do better next time.’ Y/N mumbled into the crook of her arm sarcastically.

Jinu’s face flushed a bright red, as four glares found their way to his back.

Suddenly a voice from the television filled the comfortable silence, cutting through the entire apartment.

‘Hey, everybody.’ Rae’s voice began.

‘Our fan club just hit fifty million fans!’ Abel continued before Rae took over again.

‘We have to give a shout out to Huntr/x! We couldn’t have done it without their support.’

‘And to our fans?’ Min interjected, voice low and almost menacing, ‘Thank you, we really feed off your energy.

Y/N frowned, lifted her head as the boys hurriedly switched to another channel.

‘In other news, the amount of missing reports have tripled in the last twenty four hours.’ The news lady said, just before the boys shut off the television hurriedly.

‘What?’ Y/N said, tone eerily calm, eyes narrowing.

‘Um…’ Beom winced, looking at Jinu.

‘Abel. You promised me.’ Y/N said in a flat tone, nails digging into her palms hard. Her eyes were fixated on Abel’s face, painted with shame. His orange-brown eyes refused to meet Y/N’s. Abel could feel the sheer intensity of Y/N’s gaze, burning a hole into his side profile.

‘Darlin’ we aren’t the ones-’

‘I don’t wanna hear it. I’m going out. Don’t follow me.’ Y/N grabbed her keys off the table, pulling on her shoes and storming out of her apartment.

Abel was right, he had promised he would try his best. He also did say he himself wouldn’t take any souls, and in that aspect, she knew that was true. Yet, hearing his explanation wouldn’t make her feel better.

But, here she was, hoping that somehow, she would’ve made a difference. That she somehow had made it better, made a change.

A familiar rumble came from Y/N’s side. Derpy had appeared from a portal again, from the elevator floor.

‘I guess you can come with me.’ Y/N sighed, unable to resist the warm hearted nature of the blue tiger.

Derpy gave a happy grumble. Bumping their head against Y/N’s hand, prompting her to give Derpy it’s head pats as they exited the elevator doors. The sun already had begun to dip below the horizon, strangely enough the awards show was filmed during the day.

‘Y/N…’ A voice called from behind her, wary and soft.

‘What do you want, Rae?’ Y/N stood still, her back still turned to the tallest group member. She had only made it about ten meters away from the complex. Derpy circled Y/N, rubbing its tail along her back reassuringly.

‘You left without a jacket again.’ Rae’s voice was closer now, right behind her in fact. A toasty large jacket being placed over her shoulders. It smelt just like him, a warm, sweet, and elegant scent.

‘I don’t want to talk right now.’

‘Okay.’ Rae fell into step beside her, staying silent as he matched Y/N’s stride.

Y/N walked aimlessly, strolling until she found a park, abandoned for the day in the setting sun.

Derpy trotted happily along, pouncing at pigeons along the way.

Entering the ungated park, she made her way towards a swing set, sitting down on the left side, resting her head in her hands. Between her fingers, she could see the tips of white and yellow sneakers in front of her.

‘Rae…’ Y/N sighed, letting her hands fall limply to her sides.

‘Yes Y/N?’ He whispered back, bending a knee, gently lifting Y/N’s chin slowly.

‘I didn’t change your mind at all did I?’

‘No, of course you did. Y/N you’re so much more important than getting souls back to-’ Rae groaned, pain flashing across his face, stumbling backwards quickly. Derpy looked up from the potted plant it was messing with, eyes blinking unevenly.

‘Rae?!’ Y/N stood quickly in alarm. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, ‘m fine Y/N/N, Gwi-ma just didn’t like what I was feeling.’ Rae gave a weak smile, waving off her worries with a shaky hand.

‘Rae…’ Y/N stepped forward, fingers twitching, aching to check on the wincing man in front of her.

‘I’m fine, don’t worry.’ Rae flashed an unconvincing smile, beautiful nonetheless.

‘Is Gwi-ma still…’ Y/N trailed off, her gaze was wavering, filled with tears. She wasn’t one to cry normally, however today proved to be filled with emotions. Derpy gave an unhappy grumble, walking over to lay it’s large head on Y/N’s lap from the side.

Frustration.

Anger.

Disappointment.

Self-doubt.

All the emotions had reached a boiling point, now bubbling over. The entire situation felt like it was slipping out of her hands, like grains of sand trickling through her grasp. Y/N was sure that she had been placed here to fix things.

But if that were true, why did it feel like nothing was changing? As if she had done nothing to change the contents of the movie? Like nothing she did mattered.

‘Y/N.’ Rae’s hands gently cupped the girl’s face, brushing a cautious thumb over her cheeks bringing the girl out of her spiral. ‘Tell me what you’re thinking.’

‘I just… I wanted to help.’ Y/N whispered, gazing into Rae’s searching, lavender eyes. ‘I thought that somehow I could make it so that you guys could be free.’

A single tear dripped onto Rae’s skin, as he brushed it away with his thumb.

‘Oh sweetheart. You don’t see it do you?’ Rae gently led her by the hand, walking back toward Y/N’s apartment.

Derpy happily followed, remembering the way back home. The tiger disappeared slowly, sinking into a portal. Blinking it’s goodbye, knowing that the two would soon follow.

‘You’ve changed so much. Jinu is cooking, Beom has empathy. Min actually puts up his hair at home and you’ve got Abel, completely wrapped around your finger. None of us have even thought about taking souls ever since meeting you.’

Y/N stared at the back of Rae, as he spoke, watching the way he kept his shoulders more relaxed than they used to be.

'Well, other than yours in the beginning.' Rae gave a quiet laugh.

‘And you?’ Y/N asked, voice almost getting lost in the gentle breeze.

‘Me?’ Rae paused, turning around slowly, Y/N’s wrist still in his hand.

‘You make me believe that there’s hope, that maybe one day, we can be normal again.’ Rae’s eyes flashed gold, his purple patterns glossing over his skin for a moment.

‘Or as normal as a demon can be.’ He smiled ruefully, going to turn back around.

‘Rae listen-’ Y/N reached forward, placing a hand over the man’s hand.

A fluorescence of colours, emitting from her fingertips, dancing across Rae’s skin, turning his patterns a bright white blue for a second before his human visage flashed back into view.

‘What in the world?’ Rae gasped, shakily letting Y/N’s hand go, bringing a hand to cup at his forehead.

His head had been muddled, a polluted sea of shame and resentment. And yet, in an instant, the sea of pollution had been cleared. A rush of clean water, pushing back the murky surroundings, leaving the clearest, pool possible.

‘How am I doing this?’ Y/N blanched, staring at her hands, looking extremely confused.

‘Was this you?’ Rae looked up, his eyes shining with wonder. His hands were shaking as he ran a hand through his hair. ‘I mean… Is this how Beom and Abel managed to be free of Gwi-ma?’

‘I think so. But, I don’t know how I did it? I don’t even control it.’ Y/N frowned, still staring at her splayed palms as if it would reveal all the answers. It hadn’t happened the first time she talked to Rae alone but now, she had changed his patterns. What was the difference?

When she had first touched Abel, all she remembered was feeling concerned for him. Y/N wanted to help him. With Beom, it had been wanting to comfort him. To let him know that mistakes were just that, mistakes. Y/N wanted Beom to see that his talent wasn’t borne from Gwi-ma, but rather, the demon king just helped give Beom a push.

And now Rae?

She wanted Rae to know that normal was subjective. That the norm perceived by society, honestly, wasn’t all that great. That to be who and what he was, was already enough.

Each one of these interactions had been sparked by a strong emotion on Y/N’s end. But was her emotions the only thing that caused this?…

‘Y/N do you know what this means?’ Rae asked, nerves abuzz from adrenaline. ‘This means we wouldn’t have to help Gwi-ma take souls. We could help those hunter things seal the Honmoon! We’d be on this side of the shield, with you.’ Rae was talking a mile a minute still flickering his gaze between Y/N and his own skin.

‘Rae, what if Jinu doesn’t feel that way? What about his memories? I couldn’t ask him to live with reminiscing about the worst parts of his history.’ Y/N shook her head, as her large apartment complex came into view.

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him. But, while she didn’t approve of Jinu’s deal with Gwi-ma. She understood where he came from, people were, after all, inherently selfish by nature.

‘Y/N, that’s for him to decide. Jinu’s…’ Rae hummed, waiting for Y/N to swipe her key card into the door.

‘He’s changed. He’s softer, even. He was the second last to join our group. For four hundred years, he was distant. I don’t think I’ve seen him smile at anyone but us since we found him.’ Rae continued, as the pair moved into the elevator continuing their conversation as the elevator whirred into motion.

‘I don’t know Rae, but I’ll talk to him. Maybe tomorrow tonight, I’ll speak with him alone?’ Y/N leaned back against the elevator handrails. Looking wistfully at the floor.

‘Sounds good to me!’ Rae gave a patient smile, patting Y/N on the shoulder.

As the doors opened, Y/N was met with not only the smell of barbecued beef. She was also met with all four of the Saja Boys who had not followed her out of the apartment. They all spoke together quickly, words crashing over each other.

‘Y/N I’m sorry. I should have tried harder. I didn’t-’ Abel rushed to say.

‘Y/N we can fix this! We’ll think of something!’ Beom said at the same time, rushing through his words. His usual handsome face was panicked, as if thinking Y/N was about to disintegrate and disappear from before his eyes.

'I should have said something. I'm so sorry-' Min got out, his violet hair tied up.

‘Y/N-’ Jinu also said, trying to explain himself, looking equally as desperate as the rest of the men.

‘Is something burning?’ Y/N raised an eyebrow, craning her neck to look into the kitchen.

‘Oh crap.’

Turns out, the boys had been staring out of the windows, trying to spot when Y/N would walk back. Jinu had begun cooking meat on a barbecue plate stove, one he had bought specifically for today. He had seen that Y/N was working hard for the past week and wanted to surprise her with a meal he knew would perk her right up.

Yet, when they saw Y/N and Rae making their way back home. The boys had abandoned the kitchen, to eagerly await their return. Thus, burning the expensive meat slightly.

Or as Jinu wanted to call it, charring.

As the night drew closer, the moon fully resided in the blanket of night. The stars doing their best to shine amidst the twinkling city lights. Dinner had been finished, leaving all six people feeling renewed and content. The boys had done the dishes while Y/N showereed and finished up her nightly routine.

Beom had whined, whilst being dragged away by Min by the back of his collar. They had to practice for their performance and they only had two nights to do it.

Jinu had insisted that the boys practise away from Y/N’s apartment, so that they were able to let Y/N get a full night of sleep.

While it was different, Y/N didn't see any issue with it. It just meant that they finally would go back to their own apartment and Y/N could rest easy, knowing the boys were in their own area.

However, something was amiss.

Due to the way she had been suddenly thrust into a stress and work filled weak, she had neglected to open her prized notebook. The one where the last few pages were missing.

The words and music sheets of Your Idol had been meticulously torn out of the book. As if they had never existed.

In Jinu’s hands, as Y/N tucked herself into bed, after finishing her night routine. Were a set of papers, familiar with Y/N’s hand writing.

–

‘You took the song from Y/N?’ Min frowned, his hair was still tied up with one of Y/N’s elastics. His perfectly arched brows drawn together in a pinch.

‘Well I took it after we did Soda Pop. But, now I want to use it to surprise her! We can deal with the background music ourselves.’ Jinu explained, looking down, sighing noticing the hesitant look in his friends eyes.

‘In the beginning, I took it because I wanted a guarantee that we would get a good song. But now, I want the world to see how great Y/N’s song writing is! I mean just look at the lyrics. They match us perfectly!’ Jinu’s voice and eyes were void of lies. It was true, he had no ill intentions in his actions.

‘Hm, we’d better explain to her right after the show then. Otherwise it may seem misguided. However, I am for the idea of surprising Y/N by performing her song.’ Abel nodded along, his knuckles propping up his chin.

‘I agree, as long as we specify in the beginning of the performance. Maybe we can make a quick announcement.’ Beom looked thoughtful, staring into the apartment across from their own.

Although he couldn’t see Y/N’s room from here, he could see the jumper he had left there, along with random items the other boys had left there. Y/N’s penthouse had become their home, more than their own apartment. Long had it been, since they spent more than ten minutes in the apartment they had bought. (With fake conjoured cash.)

‘Maybe we can say something along the lines of, “To our song writer and producer, we’d like to dedicate this performance to you. You’ve made us who we are.” Something like that?’ Min suggested, tilting his head, his chin between his thumb and index finger.

‘Yeah, that sounds good.’ Rae nodded, standing up to walk over to Jinu. ‘So, you gonna handle the music?’

‘Ah hah. I may have already finished it…’ Jinu rubbed a hand over his neck nervously, looking slightly embarrassed. ‘She really inspired me.’

‘You and us all.’ Min smiled, ruffling Jinu’s hair. ‘I’m glad you’re finally letting yourself express how you actually feel about Y/N.’

‘Hey… She’s a great friend!’ He whined, protesting against Min’s teasing tone.

‘Yeah right, friend.’ Beom snickered, rolling his eyes.

‘Uh huh?’ Jinu slowly advanced on Beom with raised hands and a playful smirk.

‘No, NO NOT AGAIN. Abel HELP ME.’ Beom screamed, running for his life.

‘Oh, Beomie!’ Jinu called out, racing after the youngest boy his eyes glowing a devious yellow.

‘Can’t help you there. I’m working with Rae to choreograph this number.’ Abel chuckled, listening to the music Jinu had provided on his phone.

‘NOO I’m SORRY I WON’T DO IT AGAIN.’ Beom screeched, flailing his arms as Jinu pounced on the younger man, wrapping his limbs around Beom in familiar stance.

‘Yeah? You gonna tease me again?’ Jinu held Beom’s waist with his legs, his hand tugging on Beom’s ear just enough for it to be uncomfortable.

‘NOOOOO I won’t.’ Beom wailed, writhing.

‘I don’t believe you.’ Jinu laughed, letting Beom go nonetheless, watching the man scramble away to his freedom.

‘JUST ADMIT YOU LIKE HER TOO.’ Beom yelled, escaping to go learn the choreo with Abel and Rae.

‘We’ve shared before. Wouldn’t be anything new.’ Min smirked, looking down at Jinu, extending his hand.

‘Don’t say weird things like that.’ Jinu flushed, grabbing Min’s hand to pull himself up.

‘Oh, you can give orders now?’ He raised an eyebrow, his eyes crinkling at the edges. ‘Don’t forget who's the oldest Jinu.’

‘W- whatever.’ Jinu’s entire face was bright red, steam practically pouring out of his ears. ‘Let’s go practice.’

Min snickered as Jinu walked back to the rest of the group, enjoying the reaction he had received from the younger man.

‘Y/N/N has no idea what’s coming for her does she?’ Min followed Jinu, as the group began to prepare for their stage against Huntr/x. Hopefully Y/N could deal with five demons men who were finding their way into her heart, slowly but very much surely.

--

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[formulafanfics13]

I just read sweet obsession and i just thought: what if a second part BUT it's any other driver pov where they get horny after hearing yns moans??

Sweet Obsession -(part 2) - OP81 🔥

Masterlist || Part 1

summary: after two hours of hearing you scream oscar's name like it's your religion, the rest of the grid is struggling.you didn't mean to put on a show. but now they're hard, flushed, and spiraling in their hotel rooms — each with their own filthy thoughts, furious hands, and furious jealousy. because no one expected quiet, perfect oscar to be the one who ruins you.

warnings: multiple POVs, voyeurism, mutual masturbation (m), groupchat chaos, explicit moaning overheard through hotel walls, dom!oscar, jealous!lando, possessive!charles, group sexual frustration, unspoken lust, filthy thoughts about reader, lowkey obsession themes, language, explicit content, hotel walls are not soundproof

MAX

He's trying to sleep. Truly. He's got a full race weekend ahead. He's done his stretches, his shower, his mint tea bullshit. He's even got white noise on. But it doesn't help.

Because through the fucking wall, he hears it.

"Oscar. Oh my god. Oscar." And then that high, wrecked sound.

He knows that sound. And he knows who that voice belongs to. He clenches the pillow over his face. Groans. His cock is already twitching. He isn't even angry. He's impressed. Little Oscar fucking Piastri is putting in work.

Max strokes himself slow. Eyes closed. Imagining your back arching, your thighs shaking. Oscar holding you down like it's nothing.

He cums when you cry out his name again. But it isn't his name you're saying. And that fucks him up more than anything.

CHARLES

He's naked in bed. One arm behind his head. The other gripping his dick so tight his knuckles are white. He's been listening for twenty minutes. 

Every moan, every gasp, every shattered cry of "Oscar, fuck, please-"

It's torture. Pure, sweet torture. He's imagining the bounce of your tits. The mess between your legs. The way Oscar must be looking at you.

He shouldn't want this. He's your friend. He knows you. He's seen you in a hoodie and slides. But now all he can see is your face when you cum.

He finishes with a grunt. Spilling into his hand. Whispers, "Putain de merde," and throws the sheets off.

Still hard. Still ruined.

LANDO

He's pacing. Fully clothed. Fully unwell. He's been rock hard for an hour and a half. He told himself it was funny at first. He even joked in the groupchat.

But now?

Now he's pissed. Not at Oscar. At himself. For never making you sound like that. He's heard you moan before. But never like that. Never like your soul's being ripped out.

He fists his cock in the bathroom. Furious. Jealous. Imagining you on Oscar's cock. Screaming. Begging.

He finishes fast. Fast and angry. Then stares in the mirror. Whispers, "Fuck. I want her."

GEORGE

He's laying on his stomach, pillow over his head, hips grinding into the mattress. He shouldn't. He knows he shouldn't.

But when you cry "yes, yes, please, fuck, just like that," it's over.

He thrusts into the mattress like a teenager. Desperate. Frantic. His hand's between his legs in seconds. Stroking quick. Mouth open. He pictures you riding Oscar. Eyes rolled back. Hair a mess. He finishes with a muffled moan.

The wall thuds again. He actually whimpers.

OSCAR - Back in the room,

He sees the messages. The missed calls. The chaos in the groupchat. He doesn't care.

You're face-down in the pillows, body still trembling, slick dripping down your thighs. He leans down, bites your shoulder. "They can all hear," he whispers. "And not one of them gets to have you."

You groan. Barely conscious.

He grins. "Round six?"

[mishappeningss]

Driver!yn is definitely a quiet walking fashion icon like if anyone dissected her fit it would be the brands she does and her one and only birkin that "someone" gifted her as her everyday bag

oh absolutely. she doesn’t try become a fashion icon, it comes to her naturally.

more about driver!yn

She doesn’t do big flashy fits or post hauls. She shows up in the paddock in low waisted trousers, a tank top, a jacket no one can find online, and sunglasses that cost more than someone’s monthly rent.

Her style? Quiet luxury meets effortlessly cool. No logos screaming at you, no need to flex. She wears things that make stylists on fashion Tiktok pause the video and say: “Hold on — what’s that?”

And then they realize that it’s archival Miu Miu paired with a worn-in racing hoodie in 2019. It’s always intentional. But she’ll always say, “I just threw this on.”

Fans love seeing her and Lewis together. Because clothes turn into something more when they’re wearing it.

Let’s say red carpets? They’re always each other’s dates and that means they’re always color coordinated. Complementary silhouettes.

Fashion week and they’re both invited? Lewis is in a slate grey oversized suit with silver jewelry. YN is in a backless dress with a subtle racing strap down the spine. Anna Wintour feels it in her chest when she seems them both.

Even though they don’t match, they always complement what the other is wearing. He’ll wear a bright color; she’ll wear neutrals and still outshine him.

Now, let’s talk about that Birkin. Yeah, everyone has theories.

It’s not brand new. It’s the leather kind, worn in, clearly loved. She never said who gave it to her, but the fans have their guesses.

It’s her everyday bag — airport, paddock, vacations. She treats it like it’s everything. That birkin shows up where ever YN is.

So who gave it to her? Here’s what we know: she didn’t buy it for herself. When asked about it once by a fan, she just smiled and said, “It was a gift.”

She’s never named names, never posted it directly, but she always has it. So who got her that Birkin?

the lewis hamilton theory

He’s the one with the style, the budget, and the intelligence to gift it right. Fans pointed out that she first wore the bag after their campaign shoot with each other.

A popular tweet said: “she said ‘it was a gift’ and lewis smiled in the background. HELLO???”

the celebrity situationship theory

The one’s wild but honestly makes sense. Some say YN had a lowkey, no label relationship with a very famous, off grid actor or singer — the kind who doesn’t post and doesn’t get papped.

They met at a fashion after party, no one knew. Mystery person sent her the bag after they had a “moment.” She ghosted them three months later.

the we don’t talk anymore, but i still carry the love theory (aka her bittersweet bag)

It wasn’t a messy breakup, just two people growing apart. The mystery person gifted her the Birkin during their peak. She still uses it because it reminds her that not all love ends in a disaster.

And because in a weird way, the bag symbolizes the best version of their relationship — elegant, thoughtful, unspoken.

So who do we think bought her that Birkin? 👀

[that-one-girl2020]

Role Reversal Pt. 4

Saja Boys x Rumi’s Sister! Reader

A/N: Oh my gosh, this one was a doozy. The reader and the boys’ personalities are just the slightest bit different from them in the original series because they have different experiences now. So Jum is less curious and childlike and the reader is more proactive in getting to know them instead of the other way around. Also, I promise I see all of your guys’ requests, even the ones in comments, I read all the comments. I just take time to get to each one depending on my inspiration, I have like fifty requests sitting in my inbox right now and I will try my best to get to each of them.

Synopsis: With Gwi Ma’s orders hanging over your head and the girls not being much help, you take your own steps to get to know the boys on your own.

CW: Low self esteem, insecurity, suicidal ideation (?), violence, bug eating (yes, you eat a bug), swearing/cursing.

Word Count: 6.1k

<< Part 3 || Master List

(Reminder: Baby = Jum, Romance = Chungae, Mystery = Hyeon, Abby = Kwan)

The competition began. The two idol groups clashed fiercely, promoting their music and performing with a ferocity that would be more apt for a gladiator ring and not what was viewed in the industry as friendly rivalry.

Not long after you had met with Jinu and Jum, the other girls made their own reluctant moves. Your sister sent Jinu a note to meet—when she came back she seemed more thoughtful but when asked, she said that she felt like she would have a hard time dealing with Jinu. Mira, in her own passive aggressive way, ambushed Abby and Romance which led to a two hour long chase through the city where she cackled and taunted the boys. She had fun, but it didn’t seem very productive. Zoey had crashed into Mystery’s room—not literally—and bombarded the man with nail polish, random movies she had grabbed at the store, and a desire to know all the gossip that he knew. Also not very productive.

The girls spent more time with each other than working on their mission so you decided to broaden your task.

Before the end of the week, you had Arson and Sprite tailing the boys, keeping watch on them. So when they told you that one of the boys had left the Tower on their own, you jumped at the opportunity.

You teleported into an alley and easily slipped into the crowd of people on the sidewalk, walking beside the quiet man. Ever the observant one, he didn’t even need to turn his head to notice you there.

”Jinu and Jum have been acting weird.”

”Who?” You asked before really thinking about it.

“Baby. They’ve been off since the bathhouse. What’d you guys do?” Mystery asked you bluntly.

“Why didn’t you ask Zoey?” You dodged the topic, stuffing your hands in your pockets casually. It seemed like the two men hadn’t told the others about what had happened or about their meetup with you. Interesting. The boys didn’t fully trust each other, it seemed.

Mystery’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile, “She was a little too energetic. Couldn’t get a word in edgewise before one of the guys came to ask what all the noise was about.”

You nodded, a hesitantly fond smile pulling at your lips, “Yeah, sounds like her.” The two of you walked along quietly for a few more minutes. You found it surprisingly peaceful. The people around you were just going about their own days and the sun was shining down and warming your skin. It was nice.

Hyeon glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. It was a little jarring to see you in casual clothes since he had really only seen you in your idol persona. Especially since the scars he had thought you and your sister had been hiding with makeup were actually demon patterns glamoured to look like faint scarring.

Hyeon didn’ t know that you and Rumi were actually unable to fully conceal your patterns with demonic means, even now. Gwi Ma’s idea of a joke since you both had tried so hard to run from them in the past.

“Can I ask?” You spoke, shaking you and him from your thoughts. “What’s with the stagenames?”

Mystery turned his head to look at you, not that you could tell. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know, they just feel a little… off?”

Mystery turned his head to look forward again after watching you for a long moment. “They give us personas, safety nets when we’re performing or interacting with fans. At least, that’s what the company told us. Some of us picked our names and some of us didn’t.” You nodded at his answer, mulling the information over in your head and trying to guess which of the guys chose their names and who didn’t.

“Why don’t you guys have stage names?” Mystery asked curiously.

“I’m not sure,” You shrugged again, rolling your head back to look at the sky thoughtfully. But then you almost tripped over your own feet so you looked straight again. “The girls didn’t want one so I didn’t either. They’re trying to be more human, I guess.”

Mystery hummed for a moment. The two of you fell into a peaceful silence again. You paused when he turned into a building with dark lights inside, “What is this place?” You asked curiously, looking around at the game boxes and flashing lights curiously.

“Arcade,” Mystery answered simply and you followed behind him. “I come here to destress and get out of my head when I’m thinking too much.”

“Oh,” was all you said. Your head was turning this way and that as you tried to take in everything around you.

“Jum sometimes comes too, but he usually prefers pc and console games.”

You nodded, pretending like you knew what any of that meant. You were surprised when he handed you a plastic card full of prepaid tokens. You weren’t sure what to do with it so you just followed him.

It was surprisingly fun once you got the hang of it all. You won yourself a cute keychain from a claw thing. You didn’t win against Mystery though, not during any of the games he showed you. He let you pull him curiously into a Photo Booth, letting you choose the border and the effects. Though you weren’t sure, but he might have growled at some guy who was staring for longer than you felt comfortable with.

Hyeon didn’t know what to make of you. He couldn’t help but find it endearing how you looked at everything in the arcade with open curiosity and how you smiled unrestrained when you were focused on a game. Even when you pouted, sulking when you lost, he should’ve felt nothing for you, a demon, but his heart was light with you.

By the time your tokens ran out—after the second time he refilled your cards—it was late and the two of you had called it a day. Before the two of you parted, you held out the keychain you had worked hard to get from the claw game, “Here.” He held out his hand and you dropped it, giving it to him as he blinked down at the keychain. “Thanks for today, Mystery.”

“Hyeon.”

You tilted your head in surprise that he had given you his actual name. It wasn’t like their actual names were secret, they were online and on their biographies. But you and the girls stubbornly called them by their stagenames as a reminder that this was a mission and they were just targets. However, if Mystery was insisting you call him by his actual name, that meant you were getting closer to him, like you were supposed to, right? It…made you feel…warm.

You smiled, “Thanks Hyeon.” You teleported away.

Hyeon lingered, watching the spot you had just disappeared from for a moment longer. Somehow, he found himself missing your presence. Your perfume lingered in his senses. He looked down at the keychain again before carefully tucking it away in his pocket.

Maybe he would try and find what perfume it was that you were wearing. Just to have around…

~~~

Your time with Mystery—Hyeon, went surprisingly well, in your opinion. Though, there was tension when at an award ceremony, Huntr/x was awarded the most listened to of the week thanks to the climbing popularity of ‘The Baddest.’ Plenty of demonic charm helped with your growing popularity as well.

Your next chance to become closer with the boys came just after the award ceremony. Sprite was covering for you with the girls by making an illusion of you sleeping in your room. Abby—according to Arson, your precious baby boy—had left the Tower on his own to get some air since he was so frustrated at losing to you girls that day.

The man was heading towards the river to clear his head and you teleported ahead, sitting on the edge of the river with your legs dangling over the water. It was a peaceful place. Especially at night when there weren’t a whole lot of people around. Looking out, the city lights reflected off of the water like a wobbly reflection of the night sky.

You heard footsteps approaching you and looked up, locking eyes with the startled Abby. Neither of you said anything. Honestly, you hadn’t really thought this through.

Abby grit his teeth and suddenly leapt at you, summoning his battle axe while you scrambled to dodge the brutal strike with a yelp. You took off running down the sidewalk. “WHAT DID I DO?!” You shrieked. You weren’t Mira. You didn’t enjoy running for your life as men with rainbow star weapons chased you.

Kwan continued chasing you, his teeth grit and his muscles flexing as he pumped his legs as hard as he could. He was sick of these demon girls putting their fans in danger and keeping them from sealing the Honmoon. The pink haired demon girl had been annoying enough when she had led him and Chungae on a chase through the city, mocking them the whole time. “You existed!”

You groaned, your mouth running before you could really think about it, “Ugh, you’re just like my fucking Aunt!”

Abby came to a screeching halt, completely thrown off by what you had just blurted out. He almost fell over with how hard he braked but he was able to catch himself. “Wait a fucking minute, you have an aunt? Demons have families?” He questioned incredulously.

You also slid to a halt, turning to look at him but still ready to run if you had to. “Uhm, yeah? Obviously. Rumi is my sister, you know. Did you seriously think we didn’t?” You couldn’t help but deadpan at him a bit. Hunters really didn’t know anything about demons besides how to kill them.

“No,” Abby shook his head, denying it like it was obvious to assume that living creatures had no other relatives or familial relations of any kind. “I thought it was just a ruse. How do you have an aunt?”

This time you really did deadpan at him. “Well, when a man and a woman love each other very much—“

Abby snarled, cutting you off, “You know that’s not what I meant!” Abby took a deep breath, settling his temper so he could get the answers that he wanted. “Demons don’t have families,” He said stubbornly.

You shook your head, “Most demons come from human souls in one way or another. It’s just a matter of if they remember their human lives.”

Abby made a skeptical face, his grip on his weapon never wavering for a second. “And you do?”

You nodded, re-explaining what you had already told Jinu and Baby. “Three types of demons: first, the kind that are created from the souls Gwi Ma consumes are more inhuman because they don’t remember their human lives. Second, the kind that are born to two demons, they don’t know anything else besides the demon realm. And finally, the kind of demon that humans are turned into after they make a deal with Gwi Ma out of desire or desperation.”

Abby scoffed, intuitively knowing which one you and the other three girls were. The four of you were able to mimic human emotions much better than the other demons the boys had killed. “So what? You made a deal with Gwi Ma for fame? Power?”

Your face fell flat. You didn’t want to talk about it. It still hurt. But it wouldn’t hurt for much longer as long as you fulfilled your mission. “Love, actually,” you answered stoically.

Abby actually did falter, his axe lowering just the slightest bit before he steeled himself and lifted his axe back to aim at you. “You were so desperate for love that you asked the demon king to make someone love you? What? A guy didn’t love you back or something?”

You frowned at Abby’s intentionally cruel words, snapping back at him, “Nobody loved me! Just because I was born different, because I didn’t look how they wanted, nobody loved me.” You looked away from him, a stupid move to make as he still had his weapon. But the old bitter memories choked your throat and left you aching and vulnerable in a way that made it feel like you couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t see his reaction to how pitiful you were.

Meanwhile, Kwan slowly lowered his axe, letting it fade away. It was too familiar. It brought to the surface his own memories that he did his best to keep out of thought, reasoning that it was in the past and didn’t matter anymore. But it still did.

When he was younger, he was the outcast no matter where he went. After he lost his parents when he was young he was put into foster care. All the other kids always avoided him due to his taller height, bigger frame, and frightening features. As he got older, it got worse. Even adults started avoiding him, labeling him a violent delinquent just because of how he looked and how quiet he was. Dance had been his only reprieve.

So he got it.

Quietly, he spoke, “Sorry…” He didn’t know where to look or what to do now. At that moment, you were just a girl that he could relate to.

You shook your head, “Don’t worry about it.”

“No, I…” Abby sighed, clenching and clenching his fists, frustrated at himself. “I do get it.”

He didn’t say any more about the matter. So you simply nodded slowly, “Okay.”

“Do you wanna get something to eat?” Abby blurted out and you could see panic flash through his eyes. He was cursing his own impulsivity. But you chuckled and nodded, “Sure. Anywhere in mind?”

He nodded, “Yeah, c’mon.” He gestured with his head and you slowly joined his side, the two of you walking together, quietly to wherever Abby had in mind for food—his own small peace offering after saying things he did.

You guys ended up at a street market. It seemed like he came there often as he talked to the elderly stall owners as familiarly as one would with their own grandparents. The two of you had a few different dishes like chicken skewers and tteokbokki. You grimaced when he stopped to get a cup of beondegi. Silkworm pupae.

He noticed your look and held them out to you, chuckling when you stepped back, “What? Never had them before?”

You just eyed them skeptically, “They came way after my time.”

Abby snorted, “Okay, grandma. Here, just try it once.” You whined unsurely but he merely held it out closer to you. “Come on, granny, just one.”

You slowly took one in your fingers, eyeing it with a grimace. Finally, you bit the bullet—or, well, bug—and popped it in your mouth, biting down. You flinched slightly when all the juices came out but then you actually tasted it and calmed down. You hummed.

“And?” Abby asked curiously. “How is it?”

You swallowed. “Not bad. Kind of nutty. But I’m not eating it again.”

Abby shrugged, “Fair enough. At least you tried it.”

The two of you continued on, eating different foods. Whatever you didn’t finish went to his never ending appetite, which was slightly disturbing to see. Eventually, you both were full and had to part ways or else your groups would come looking for you. That is, if the girls realized it was just Sprite back at the apartment.

“Thanks,” You told him softly, not looking directly at him. “For giving me a chance, Abby.”

He didn’t respond for a moment so you started walking away. But then his voice stopped you. “Call me Kwan.” You turned to look back at him in surprise but he put on an air of nonchalance, like it wasn’t that big of a deal. “Don’t think this means we’ll go easy on you. We’re still gonna crush you and those other three at the next awards.”

You chuckled, “Sure, Kwan. See ya,” you waved and walked off to find a good spot to teleport from.

Kwan watched you go, conflicted. It was weird how normal and…understood he felt with you. Maybe it was because you both had similar experiences with your appearances. But he didn’t know why nobody would love you, you were beautiful. You must have been gorgeous before your demon patterns.

~~~

Things were going well for you. Almost frighteningly so.

You had made close contact with four out of five of the boys. Well… Jinu and Baby had come to your meetup and hadn’t tried to kill you. You hadn’t really done any actual bonding like you did with Hyeon and Kwan. You might have to do some one on one interactions…

Anyway, you were at least glad that you were able to turn Kwan trying to kill you into him empathizing with you and getting food together. The girls were working on another song to release in case their one song wouldn’t get them high enough on the charts. You also made some progress with your own ideas when you had free time.

But today, Sprite had let you know that the other male pinkette had ventured outside of the Tower on his own. So you changed out of your practice clothes and teleported over. Said male was at the park, breathing in the fresh air and people watching. While also sitting on the most picturesque bench in the whole park since it was surrounded by flowers and shaded trees.

So, you picked a flower and made your way over from behind, leaning your arms on the bench while he was too distracted to notice you. You poked his cheek with the flower and he practically jumped a mile into the air, ending up on the other end of the bench.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, “Hey.”

Chungae looked at you with wide eyes, his gaze darting from the civilians around the park and then to you. You were here. Why were you here. With a flower. He wanted to summon his fans—his weapons fans, not his fanatic fans—to kill you before you became a bigger problem than you already were but he couldn’t do it out in public like this.

“What’re you doing here?!” Romance hissed as you rounded the bench to sit on the opposite end from him.

“Getting some air,” You shrugged your shoulders, fiddling with the stem of the flower.

He narrowed his eyes at you dubiously, “Y’know, you can get in trouble for picking the flowers here.”

You eyed him, “Really? And who’s gonna yell at me?”

Romance deadpanned at you. Then he nudged his head to the side, “They will.” You turned your head to look and, sure enough, there were some park workers walking down the sidewalk.

Your eyes widened and you cursed, “Here, you take it!” You shoved the flower into his hands. “Happy birthday!” You spat out the first words that came to mind, ready to run so you could avoid getting in trouble.

Romance blanched, pushing it back towards you, “Birthday? It’s not my birthday! Take back your felony!” He hissed at you.

“Happy Valentine's Day,” You gritted at him, pushing the flower back towards him.

“It’s not Valentine’s Day!”

“Well, just take it!”

“No!”

The two of you froze a little comically when the park workers walked past the two of you. They were chuckling but they didn’t give the two of you a second glance. When neither of you faced the wrath of the workers, you both sighed a breath of relief, Romance actually taking the flower, “Well, in that case, thanks for the flower, darling.”

You snorted, “No problem, handsome,” You cooed in return jokingly.

You weren’t prepared for the man to blush, looking away shyly to cough into his fist.

Chungae quickly changed the subject, stiffening as he reminded himself that you were a demon that wanted to suck the souls of his fans. “What’re you doing here, again?”

You leaned back against the bench. “I told you, I wanted some air,” You repeated yourself.

“Right,” Romance drawled, looking at you suspiciously. “And I’m here to slaughter children.”

You gasped dramatically, looking at him scandalized, “You are? And here I thought you were this morally upright demon hunter!”

Romance couldn’t help but snort at your dramatics. “It’s called sarcasm, darling. I’m people watching.”

The both of you turned to look around. You looked at the people going about their days, peaceful and content for the most part. “Why? What’s so interesting about it?” You asked.

It’s not that you didn’t people watch either. But you did it because you wanted what normal humans had. Love, happiness, acceptance, safety, comfort. Take your pick, you wanted at least a sliver of one of them. You were curious why the man did it though.

Romance was quiet for a moment, thoughtful. “They have something I don’t,” was all he responded with.

And you could understand that.

You merely hummed in understanding, the two of you sitting in silence for a while as you both watched the people around you. There was a woman on the swings with a baby in her lap. Some girls were having a picnic, taking pictures and giggling over their phones. An elderly couple was shuffling down the sidewalk arm in arm. A married couple was sitting at a table with their kid.

Chungae was uncertain about you. He kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. You were just quietly sitting there, watching people go by about their days. There wasn’t a glimmer of demonic plotting in your eyes, you were just watching… He wasn’t sure what, but there was something about you that he recognized in himself. He should’ve hated it, hated that he could see a part of himself in you, a demon. But, he couldn’t. Because it was a part of him that was still a child on the inside.

“Why are you doing this?” Romance broke the quiet between you.

You didn’t look at him, your eyes on two little girls running through the trees. “I have my reasons.”

He scoffed, “That’s not an answer.”

“It is, it’s just not the one you wanted.”

Romance huffed, the two of you falling into silence again. Despite the slight tension between you, it wasn’t a stifling silence. It was just thoughtful.

You sighed, reminding yourself that in order to succeed you had to have some semblance of vulnerability. “Gwi Ma said he would get rid of a certain memory if I do this.”

Romance turned his head to look at you in surprise. “A memory?” He echoed questioningly.

“From my human life. Before I was a demon,” You explained to him. It was just another point in your theory that the boys didn’t communicate with each other very well. “Not all demons were demons forever. A lot of us still remember our human lives.”

“And…” Romance drawled unsurely, “What’s the memory you want gone?”

You answered vaguely, “Somebody I thought loved me betrayed me.” Everyone you thought loved you ended up betraying you.

“Oh,” Romance answered dumbly. “Well, then it wasn’t real love.”

You looked at him, furrowing your eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“Love isn’t like that. If someone really loves you, then they would never betray you,” Romance explained.

Chungae hoped he sounded sure in his words because he absolutely was not. How could he when he had no idea what love was like? He didn’t remember familial love, friendly love, and he had never experienced romantic love. He was just using his own flawed fantasies and media he had consumed as his expectations for love. That was all he could do.

You weren’t aware of his thoughts as you took his words in. They were comforting, in their own way. You felt validated in your anger and frustration but the hurt was still there. It was okay though. The hurt would go away soon, you reminded yourself.

For now, you simply smiled at the pink haired man, “Thanks Romance.”

“Chungae,” He found himself correcting you. He was surprised at himself but he didn’t take it back, “Call me Chungae.”

Your smile became more genuine, “Thanks Chungae.”

The two of you turned back to watch the people in the park around you. You two were still enemies, but right now? You two were comfortable in the soft space that had formed around you.

~~~

You decided that you should try and get some one on one time with Jinu and Baby.

But it seemed like the two didn’t leave the Tower often—on their own or otherwise. So you would have to have them come to you or you would have to go to them. Your choice was made when Arson left Sprite alone.

You followed Arson to the Tower and teleported up to the balcony. Sprite’s eyes were glowing faintly, a sign that he was using his illusion powers. “What’re you doing?” You muttered to the bird quietly. Sprite merely made his little ko-aw noise. So you peeked through the glass to see what the mischievous little bird was doing and slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from bursting into laughter.

Jinu was standing on top of a chair in the middle of his room, swinging a pillow pathetically at the floor every now and then before instantly regretting it and going back to using it as a shield. On the floor, maybe a dozen or two dozen spiders were crawling along the floor. They weren’t that big, maybe an inch or so big, but they were black and fuzzy with little pincers. One stopped at the base of the chair, looking up at the man. The two stared at each other for a moment, Jinu’s eyes wide and his pupils shrunk. Then the little spider hissed and Jinu jumped, shrieking.

You snorted, sliding the balcony door open easily, “Okay, Sprite, that’s enough. Don’t want to make too much of a ruckus." Jinu’s head whipped around to you as Sprite made a rattling noise that kind of sounded like a laugh before all the spiders faded out of existence. After a moment, you spoke again, “Y’know, you should lock your balcony. Never know who might just come in.”

Jinu still didn’t say anything.

“Nice pants.”

Jinu looked down, his face turning red when he remembered that he was wearing his custom Derpy and Sussie lounge pants that had little hearts and hats around their chibi figures. He tried to scramble down from the chair, “What’re you—“

You winced when he tripped and tumbled from atop the chair as the desk chair with wheels rolled while he was trying to get down. “…Are you okay…?”

He continued to lay face down on his carpet. “…Yeah.” After he took a deep breath, Jinu pushed himself up and looked at her. “What are you doing here?”

You nodded to where Arson was sitting at the bottom of Derpy’s cat tower, the two animals in a strange staring contest. “Arson came to get me when Sprite started his mischief. Sorry about that, by the way.”

Jinu shook his head, habitually answering, “It’s fine.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. He had never had a girl in his space like this before. He wasn’t sure if you being a demon made it better or worse.

You pursed your lips awkwardly and wandered further into his room, “So… what’cha doing?”

Jinu stuttered, darting to his desk to shove some papers in a drawer. For some reason, he didn’t want you to see the draft of lyrics for the Saja Boys’ new song. And not because he didn’t want to ruin the surprise of the diss track. But because he…didn’t want you to see the hateful lyrics. “Nothing. Just, uh…just working on some songs.”

The two of you froze when there was a knock on his door. “Jinu? You alright in there?” Kwan’s voice sounded from the other side of the door.

“Hide!” Jinu hissed at you, grabbing Arson and shoving the two of you into his closet where all his casual clothes were kept. He slammed the door behind you and you heard him open the door, greeting his member.

You were a little frazzled, turning the flashlight on your phone on so you could see where Jinu had shoved you. You stopped when your light shined on a bookshelf against the wall across from you. It was full of containers. Full of tiny hats.

Meanwhile, Jinu was trying to smile normally at his fellow group member, “Hey, Kwan, what’s up?”

Kwan dubiously lifted a brow at his leader’s shifty behavior. “I heard you screaming like a girl.”

Jinu flushed at the reminder, “I saw a spider…” He admitted quietly.

Kwan snorted, teasingly pushing at his shoulder, “Dude, seriously?”

“It was big!” Jinu defended himself, “And I was working on the song so I didn’t notice it until it was two inches from me!”

Kwan just shook his head in amusement, “Do you need me to get it for you?”

“Nah, Derpy ate it,” Jinu fibbed. The two boys grimaced at the mental image of the cat eating a spider.

“Okay, well I’m heading to bed,” Kwan dismissed himself.

“Kay, night man,” Jinu waved him off.

“Night.”

Jinu shut the door with a sigh of relief, leaning his head against the door as he took a second to calm down. Then he went to the closet to let you out, only to pause when he opened the door. You were sitting on the ground with one of the containers from his shelf next to you, your phone flashing as you took Arson’s picture. The demonic canine was wearing one of Derpy’s crochet mushroom hats. It was too small for the dog but it was still absolutely adorable. Your delighted giggles were quiet and your smile was illuminated by the light of your phone screen.

It was endearing. Cute. Adorable even—and he didn’t mean Arson.

Jinu couldn’t help but smirk fondly and cross his arms, leaning against the doorframe, “Having fun?”

You nodded without looking at him, switching hats so you could take more pictures of Arson, “Yup.”

Jinu chuckled and shook his head, “Come on, you should go before one of the guys catches you here.” He ignored your little whine and pouty lips as he put the hats away and slid the container back into place on his shelf.

Despite your whining, you still stood with a little huff, “Fine. But I will be back for more tiny hats.”

“Sure,” Jinu agreed easily enough and walked you to the balcony, scratching Arson’s head in goodbye.

“Bye Jinu,” You waved with a smile.

He waved back, “Bye (Y/n).” Jinu watched you teleport away and Arson leapt from the balcony, Sprite flying off as well. He slid the balcony closed slowly, pulling the curtains shut once he did.

It was strange how normal he felt with you. His whole life revolved around hunting demons, sealing the Honmoon, and being an idol. But, with you he somehow felt like just another guy.

Sussie chirped and he looked at the bird. Sussie gave him a judging look.

“What?”

Sussie sighed.

~~~

The next time the awards rolled around, the Saja Boys ended up winning as most listened to that week thanks to their new song, ‘Stay Gold.’ As they were given flowers, the four of you clapped with smiles while the boys looked at you smugly. You girls remained unbothered though.

You finally got your chance to talk with the maknae of the boy group when the man left the Tower on his own for once and made his way into the city in disguise. He ducked into a grocery store and you followed him in, the maknae making a B-line straight to the snack and candy aisle.

You wandered past him casually, looking at all the different candies and snacks that you had no idea what they were. You grabbed a bag of rosé topokki chips. He was looking at spicy candies. “Those can’t be good,” You couldn’t help but remark.

Baby looked at you, surprised at your presence. But then he shrugged and went back to deliberating spicy candies. “I like it.”

You shrugged as well, going back to looking at the shelf full of candy for something sweet next. “To each their own.”

The two of you stood there, quietly for a long moment. You kept glancing at each other. “Any recommendations for something sweet but simple?” You eventually asked him, lost in all the flavors and brands.

He sighed like you asked him to do the most difficult thing in the world. He scanned over the options for a second before grabbing some chocolate, “Here.” He tossed it to you and you barely caught it, your heart stuttering at the sudden panic that you would drop it. He chuckled and finally made his own choice, putting one of the bags of candy back. He grabbed a drink, pointedly avoiding the Saja Boys themed soda just in the other cooler. The two of you quietly went to check out.

Jum didn’t have a lot of thoughts about you. You were very human but some moments reminded him that you were a demon. Like, struggling to choose what to get out of a sea of modern flavors. But he couldn’t get that look out of his head. When you had given up fighting them at the bathhouse or when he had asked you why you gave up when you asked them to meet you.

The two of you found a quiet spot to eat your snacks. He chuckled when he heard you hum when you first tried your chocolate. It seemed like you liked it. “We’re writing a song,” He found himself blurting out. “About demons.”

“Oh,” was all you could respond with, chewing slower. “Can’t imagine it’s a very nice song.”

Baby snorted, “It’s not. I can’t say I’m very happy about it.”

You looked over at him in surprise, “Why not?” You asked curiously.

He shrugged, “I worked hard on ‘Stay gold,’ we all did. It’s a song meant to bring us closer together and to our fans but…” he trailed off, shrugging again. “And I work hard on my rapping, our lyrics and a lot of it gets censored or shut down by production because it doesn’t ’fit the image.’” Baby rolled his eyes, citing words it seemed like he had heard a million times over. “The trainers’ idea.”

“I get it,” You told him. He turned his head to look at you dubiously, “I do. I understand some of how you feel. You gotta play a part, a role you don’t like or really fit but you still have to play it.”

Baby was quiet for a moment, just looking at you. Observing and analyzing your expression for a sign that you were lying. But you weren’t. So he nodded, “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Can I call you Jum…?” You slowly asked him, fidgeting with the wrapper in your hands. With the other guys, they had given their names to use, but with Baby, after what he had just told you, it didn’t feel right to refer to him as the role he didn’t like to play.

His lips twitched up into a smile, “Yeah. Just when we’re alone though.”

You jokingly rolled your eyes, “Obviously.”

He snorted fondly, “Obviously.”

The two of you continued to eat your snacks contently.

~~~

That night, you ended up staring up at the ceiling above your bed for a long while, mindlessly running your fingers through Arson’s fur.

You were doing good. You were getting closer to the boys like you had been told to do. You were one step closer to finishing this and forgetting all the memories that still gripped your heart like barbed wire. But… there was a growing sense of wrongness.

It was hard to hear yourself think over the quiet hiss of old memories and whispers of Gwi Ma’s voice. However, with the boys, the volume became quieter, duller and easier to ignore somehow.

You felt like you were going crazy.

You couldn’t let your mind linger on them like this, not when the next step of the girls’ plan was coming up. The Saja Boys were having their first fan event in a while soon and you all planned to crash it and take it over. You had to be ready to see all of them at once, to watch for the little cracks in their group so you could split them open when the time came.

You ignored the twisting in your chest.

A/N: When Kwan says that you must’ve looked gorgeous before your patterns, he’s not trying to be an asshole, he’s just thinking in the context that you must’ve grown up in where society wouldn’t have accepting any ‘deformities’ like the patterns. If that makes sense…?

Outtakes:

…

Bobby: “So what’ve you guys been up to lately?”

Hyeon: *Spending time with you*

Kwan: *Spending time with you*

Chungae: *Spending time with you*

Jinu: *Spending time with you*

Jum: *Spending time with you*

Saja Boys: …

Saja Boys: “Nothing much.” “Boring stuff.” “Gym.” “Sleeping.” “Song stuff.”

…

Zoey: “Hey, should we be doing our jobs and trying to get closer to the boys?”

You: *Emotionally conflicted, struggling, juggling five men*

Polytr/x: *cuddling on the couch watching romcoms*

Polytr/x: “Nah, it’s fine.”

…

Saja Boys: *side eyeing each other while contemplating sharing that they’ve been spending time with you but don’t want to admit they have for fear of being yelled at for not killing a demon*

You: *narrowing your eyes at the idiots* “Guys. Communication.”

…

Tag List: @jaybbygrl @aurorab-0-realis @minthoneynbasil @thatonegrimm @n0tbelle @reverie-sxno @gremlinartstudio @littlepotaaatosimp @mvskedxrtist @lluxentzz @closehereyes @lyunsafebubble @ashleygryffindor @whimsiecat @towfuu1 @thesimpbella @fries11 @lov3ly-3m @teenyfinds @arieslucy @boldlyenchantingfox22 @mel3484 @lizzymizzy-blogg @fastleopard1521 @cultish-corner @kitkatpattywack2808 @tsukimoon-chan @alleakimlala @yandereobsession @sherzzzzz @otherworldlover @hawarun @f1shst1xx @avadakadabra93 @moonthesleepyhead @sra7riddle-malfoy @beautifulpeoplebeautifulpr0blems @boo-shalala @venommie @magical-spit @neverending-animelove @nerdsconquerall @eli1412 @imjusthereforthecake @moochiwoochi @a-writer-with-anxiety @sexually-attracted-to-pans @katzline @uniquecutie-puffs @forgetfulsmols

[allsteddie]

And what about a soulmate AU where everyone sees in black and white until they finally touch their soulmate for the first time?

Steve is disappointed when nothing changes after he and Nancy start dating, and even more disappointed when Nancy and Jonathan turn out to be soulmates not long after she breaks up with Steve.

He goes in a lot of dates, with a lot of girls, makes sure to always touch them somehow to see if something happens. Still nothing.

Then one day he’s working at Scoops Ahoy when Eddie Munson walks in, a bunch of his nerdy friends tagging along. Robin is on her break, so it’s just Steve there to deal with everybody’s orders. Fifteen minutes, a lot of arguing between the nerds and four satisfied costumers later, Eddie hands Steve a couple of bills to pay for everyone’s ice cream and that is the moment Steve’s life changes.

Their fingers brush and, suddenly, his black and white world explode in color. It’s so overwhelming the money slips from his hand and Steve has to grab the counter to steady himself, the world around him seeming to spin.

“Hey, Eddie, are you okay?” one of the nerds (Gareth?) asks.

Steve blinks, still dizzy and trying to understand what the hell is going on. When he lifts his head, he sees Eddie pretty much in the same state as him, two of his friends holding him up and supporting him as the man looks dazzled, the third one holding his forgotten ice cream and looking lost and distressed.

“What the fuck did you do to him, Harrington?”

But Steve can’t bring himself to say anything, he’s too busy freaking the fuck out. Because Eddie Munson is his soulmate, apparently. Eddie fucking Munson. What kind of joke is that!?

“Get off me,” Eddie says, pushing his friends away until he’s standing by himself.

He’s still struggling, that’s quite clear, but Eddie Munson has always been stubborn and has always refused to show any kind of weakness. He’s not gonna start doing it in front of Steve of all people.

“Look, man,” Steve starts, not really knowing what to say, but needing to say something. Eddie doesn’t let him finish, though.

“No, shut up. Don’t even start,” he says, fierce. If looks could kill, Steve would be dead right now. “I don’t wanna hear anything, I refuse. Fuck this. It doesn’t change a single thing, you hear me? It changes nothing.”

“And who says I want it to change anything? You’re not exactly my dream come true, Munson.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you.”

“You wish, Harrington.”

“What is happening here?” another one of Eddie’s friends whispers to the others, who are just as confused.

“Shut up, you too!” Eddie snaps at them. He takes a last look at Steve, then turns his back. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Steve watches as Munson marches out of the shop, his friends trailing behind him and trying to catch up with his pace, and that’s all he can do; watch. Because what else would he do? Ask Munson to wait so they can talk about the fact that they are fucking soulmates? As if. Steve would rather flush his own head in the toilet.

After that, they avoid each other like the plague. And if not knowing who his soulmate was had been bad, knowing it is not much better. Steve still can’t understand how the universe, or whatever force chooses this soulmate shit, came to the conclusion that Eddie Munson would be his perfect match. For the first time in his life, Steve wonders if these things could be wrong somehow; if maybe some soulmates were just not meant to be.

The next time Steve sees Eddie, the man is holding a broken bottle to his neck and threatening to kill him. Eddie is terrified, eyes frantic and the hand holding the bottle is trembling, and Steve is so relieved he’s okay he would probably hug him if the risk of getting stabbed wasn’t so high.

“We’re on your side,” Dustin pleads. “I swear on my mother. Right, guys?”

And there’s a change there, in Eddie’s eyes. A flicker of recognition and hope as he looks at Steve before letting him go. The others don’t notice, but Steve does. He’s hyperaware of everything Eddie does, every small movement and look. He sees the nervous fidgeting and the touch of hysteria in Eddie’s words, but also the trust the other man shows when he agrees with Dustin’s plans, and how it helps him with the anxiety. And it’s weird for Steve, being so in tune with whatever is going on in Eddie’s mind that he can actually read the guy like a book, but is also comforting somehow.

By the time Dustin finishes explaining his plan, Steve’s not so sure the universe was trying to fuck with him when it chose Eddie as his soulmate. Not anymore.

[pyromaniacbibliophile]

mwahahaha doing this because literally no-one asked hehe

One was barely an adult, holding up horses on a dirt road to pay the rent. The other had just cast away his identity to join the Officers of Law, and was sent to patrol the town border. They met, both masked, shots fired. One escaped, the other made excuses to his boss. Both thought about the other for the next week.

The above kind of indicates, but since they were about 18. Beforehand they had seen each other around town, but that was the first conversation they had had.

Bandit thought Officer was too arrogant for his horse. Officer thought Bandit was nothing but a jumped up kid with a gun. Now Bandit thinks Officer is the funniest bastard ever to wear a mask, utterly stunning, and unreasonably loyal. Officer thinks Bandit is the most attentive person he's ever met, utterly stunning, and far too caring.

Due to the nature of their relationship, it would depend on who's asking. Saying that it's a friend who knows both of their identities and relationship- B would describe O as handsome, tall, and brown-eyed. He would say that O was far too devious for his profession, far too good for him, funny, charming, and happy. O would describe B as beautiful, looks incredible on a horse, eyes like the moon on the sea, like something out of a story, like a broken mirror. He would say that B was far too good at his job, confident in his self, healing, rightfully cocky, charismatic, and his love.

Personally yes. They are married, so very well. They know each other better than anyone else does, which means a lot to each of them as their respective jobs both require anomity. Their personalities fit together, and they've had chemistry since the day they met. Professionally yes but they'd both deny it, liars that they are. They're jobs require them to dislike each other, and even though they're laughing their heads off at home that afternoon, their professional characters are foes, albeit foes with far too much UST

Horses, guns, and each other. Yes to horses, especially on days off. Yes to guns, usually pointed at each other at work. and certainly yes to each other *ahem ahem*

Every day, as they are married. They usually meet in bed, in the kitchen, the living room, or at work.

Fairly well. They are rather prone to fist-fighting for a good hour or more after a disagreement, which actually works out well for both of them. Professional disagreement fights tend to lead to their bed, and then after a long sleep they've either entirely worked thing out or are in a good headspace to talk. Personal disagreement fights lead to the pub and conversations, followed by patching each other up, and moving on. It's not an advisable dynamic, i suppose, but it works out for them. At work they communicate with a made up sign language as well :)

A fairly healthy amount of Not Being Sane

One works for the law, and the other breaks it daily

Oh they absolutely are each other's foils. So much. It's basically police officer x criminal. One works day in, day out, to capture the other, and the other works as hard as he can to evade him.

So much affection. They are the worst for PDA, they will literally hang off each other when out, and it is rare you see them together not holding hands. Both are very prone to waving weapons and threats at anyone who either threatens or tries to seduce their partner. At home they cook together, read in silence curled up on armchairs, stargaze from the roof, go out drinking together.

So much. Professionally they never miss a moment to get a dig or an insult in at the other, they shittalk each other to their collegues, they threaten each other at gunpoint, pistols at dawn. death threats- you name it.

Yes and no- to become fabulously rich, build proper houses for everyone in town, retire together to the sea and run a resturant, live peacefully without juggling two identities. - no is really nuanced and i don't have the brainpower to type it right now.

Unequivalently. Completely. Without hesitation. They laugh about it but each of them would trust the other with their life. Why- because they revealed their anonymous identities to the other and they did nothing about it, because they've known each other longer and better than anyone else, because they've never betrayed the other despite having more than enough chances to.

They are not.

Yes, that of their identities and their relationship (Kinda). They don't mind it, know it's neccecary and that, but find it really fiddly not to reveal their identities by accident.

They. Are. Husbands. as permanent as it's going to get, here.

Yes. They like it how they are.

That time a few years ago on Fool's Day when no-one in the town was working, not even the police or the criminals. they dressed up in their best clothes, did their hair, looked immaculate, and went out for a walk along the river. Halfway along they got too hot, dived in, and wound up having a water fight for the majority of the afternoon, then trudged into the bar soaking wet, took their drinks home, and laid around until sunset in their underwear with their clothes drying on the roof. Oh, and their wedding.

The jagged, aching, bitter fight they had after revealing their identities to one another.

Bandit had trauma flashbacks one night. Will elaborate later.

They have many friends in town, but only one who knows who they both are- an old woman called Grandma, who fences all stolen material and sells it to the right buyers. She found out by accident, and six months later was the maid of honor/witness/best man at their secret wedding

ohohoho. See, in 'public' when their working, they act like sworn enemies. Pure, unrivalled hate. When they're not, they act like any other married couple in love. At home they're what can only be described as an Old Married Couple. They bicker relentlessly, annoy the hell out of each other, and fall asleep saying i love you.

Far too many nuances to answer at two am

They'd have a whale of a time

To the end of the world. They would die, kill, and live for each other. They would march down to Hell Orpheus-style for each other, drink poison for each other romeo and juliet-style, live when everyone else around them is dead marisette-style. Anything.

Questions about two of your original characters about their relationship. Should work for friends/lovers/coworkers/enemies/etc, maybe not so much for family, but you're welcome to try!

How did they meet?

How long have these two characters known each other?

What were their first impressions of each other? How does that compare to their impressions of each other now?

How would they describe each other if asked? Physically? In personality?

Do they get along? Why or why not?

Do they have any shared interests/hobbies? Do they ever do these hobbies together?

How often do they see each other? Where do they usually meet?

How do they communicate with each other? Are there any recurring phrases or gestures unique to their relationship?

What is one quality they have in common?

What is one major difference between them?

Does one act as a narrative foil to the other? How so?

Do they have any affection for each other? How do they show it?

Do they have any disdain/contempt for each other? How do they show it?

Do they share the same goals in life?

Do they trust each other? Why or why not?

Is one of them keeping secrets from the other? Why? How would they react if the secret was revealed?

Are they keeping a secret together? How do they feel about that?

Do they view their relationship as temporary or permanent?

Are they satisfied with their relationship? Do they wish they were closer/more distant?

What is their best memory together?

What is their worst memory together?

When were they the most vulnerable with each other?

Do they have any mutual friends? Mutual enemies?

How do these two interact with each other in public versus in private?

If a stranger saw them together, how would they describe their relationship?

How would these characters react to being stuck in a small room with each other?

How far would they go for each other? Would they risk their own lives for each other?

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Enemies Prompts

They are generational enemies. Their parents are enemies, just as their grandparents were.

Can these enemies put aside their past to save the world?

Realizing that their ally is actually their enemy's spy is worse than anything else their enemy could have done to them.

What do you do if your child becomes best friend with your enemy's child?

Maybe these two enemies don't even know anymore why exactly they are each other's enemy. And maybe they don't actually care anymore.

One of the enemies decides to turn over a new leaf and seeks redemption, leaving the other enemy in a state of uncertainty. Did they truly mean it? And what does that say about their relationship with each other?

It's not a power play in the physical sense. These enemies enjoyed psychologically torturing each other.

When one of the enemy infiltrates the other's network by disguising themself, they get to know their enemy much better than they ever thought possible.

More:

Hero x Villain

Enemies to Lovers Masterpost

[gentlelovingsiscon]

saturday passes without much further incident. you and your sister spend the whole day in bed, except the usual breaks one needs. you make her get up and do some stretches at one point, which she dismisses with a grumble until you make it clear you're serious (you end up having to tickle her, which gets the message across).

with the exception of bathroom breaks, you spend on average a few seconds at a time separated from your sister, happy to waste the day away cuddled up next to her, or on top of her, or underneath her. that's something that hasn't changed. Lena seems to sleep best when she's laying on top of you.

Sarah brings you dinner, too, along with another question about what you and your sister have been up to. you evade again, a little more convincingly this time (you think).

consciously, you know you can trust her. she knows that you're in love with your sister. you confided in her about it one night when you were drunk. you also suspect that might be why she didn't put up a fuss when you proposed Lena coming to live here. but there's something else, deep deep down. a fear that even Lena's earlier words can't fully dispel. safe with her, but what if she's the one who isn't safe with you?

all that to say that saturday passes without much further incident.

on sunday, around dinner, you manage to coax Lena out of your room for some socializing. sunday is the designated bonfire night during the warm months, so dinner is camp food, more or less. you're in the middle of one of the outdoor couches, with Sarah on your right and Lena on your left. Moss sits on one of the camp chairs. Lacy is standing at the grill tending to some burgers, and both Sarah and Moss have hotdogs on long metal sticks roasting over the bonfire. Sarah is making yours and Lena's, because you both like them burnt and Sarah can't cook a hotdog anywhere except the microwave without burning it, while Moss is cooking Sarah and Lacy's, because they like theirs cooked properly and Moss doesn't have Sarah's freakish ability to destroy food.

(when you say this out loud to the group, Lena guffaws, offended on Sarah's behalf. Sarah ducks her head shamefully and admits that it's true. the only thing she can do with confidence and competence in the kitchen is chop vegetables.)

Moss exclusively eats hamburgers, claiming “ethical concerns.”

“ethical concerns?”

you groan along with Sarah and Lacy.

“here we go,” Lacy grins.

“ethical concerns. it's simply an insane configuration for food to be in. at that point, i may as well eat a taco! plus you can't distribute everything evenly like on a hamburger; you're always doomed to get some lopsided, which means you're gonna get too much topping on one bite and not enough on another. i cannot stand for it.”

by the end of the rant, the housemates are speaking along with her, while Lena watches on, bewildered. you grin and lean into her side, “Moss has very strong opinions on food, and they cannot be swayed. we've tried.”

Moss sends everyone a shit eating grin as she takes the hotdogs off the flame. Sarah startles and looks at her stick, finding all four hotdogs black and charred. “fuck.”

“told you,” you tell Lena.

Lena doesn't react, just looking at the hotdogs with gluttony in her eyes.

>-<

in the end you slam half a dozen hot dogs and two burgers, while Lena struggles to finish her second. nobody says anything, but you see them looking at you and at each other with concern. you resolve to talk to Lena about it later. for now, you have a different idea to get her hungry.

“hey Lacy. wanna help me corrupt my big sister?”

Lena gives you a panicked look, but you grin back at her wickedly.

Lacy gives you a wink and a peace sign, saying “you know it babes. what're we thinking?”

“baby shit. we'll do more later.”

“hell yeah. one joint for babies, coming up," Lacy says with an easy grin.

Lena's panicked look changes, and she grabs you by the hoodie. “you smoke?!”

you imagine her slipping her hands beneath your hoodie, and you drift a little closer. “mhm.”

in hindsight, you're not entirely sure who catches it first. Sarah, when you start to go a little hazy, or Lena, when you start to lean in. you're not sure if Sarah grabs you from your other side first or if Lena pushes you away. you're floating for a second, until Sarah whispers into your ear, “heel,” and you pull up short, your posture stiffening a little bit.

Lena pulls away with an uncertain frown in your direction. you lean back into Sarah with a grateful sigh and let her arms fall around you, looking to Lena and telling her “yes. i smoke. these absolute degenerates got me to start smoking not too long after i moved in with them."

“hrm. fine. at least it's not something worse,” your big sister, the eternal watchdog and worrier, says. she seems to have forgotten why you're on this topic, going by her reaction when Lacy comes back with a joint in her hand. she sits in the camp chair next to Lena's side of the couch, leaning in to show her how it works and what to do.

you start to lean toward Lena, getting possessive and wanting to take control, wanting to be the one who shows her what do. but Sarah keeps you grounded and in place. she growls under her breath into your ear, “heel, puppy. do i need to get your collar?”

you whine quietly and shake your head insistently. Moss notices and smirks at you, blowing you a kiss with a wink. you turn to hide your face in Sarah's shoulder, and she runs her hand through your hair, pressing you into her collar gently. when Lena starts coughing and you try to turn to helpher, Sarah's hand goes firm, keeping you where you are. she murmurs into your ear once again, “she's okay, baby. let Lace take care of it.”

“okay…” you whisper back, whining slightly. your eyes close, and you lose yourself with Sarah's hand running through your hair for a second. when she tugs on your hair she also tugs you back to awareness, guiding you to sit up straight next to her again. you look over at your big sister, and find her frowning, her brow furrowed.

she's holding the joint out to you. coming back to yourself just a little bit, you take it, bringing it to your lips and taking a couple of drags. you lean your head back on the last one, exhaling the smoke into the open air above you and casually handing the joint off to Sarah. your sister gives you a look of wide eyed astonishment.

Lacy takes notice, saying “yeah, Penelope took to it like a duck to water. barely ever coughs.”

you flush and grin with a strange sense of pride. Lena looks like she's going to say something, but then you see it hit her. she stops talking for a second and giggles. the casual conversation between Sarah and Moss goes quiet along with you and Lacy as you all watch with rapt attention.

“feeling good?” Moss asks.

“heh… yeah…” Lena giggles, relaxing into the couch. Sarah nudges you, and you gratefully lean a little further into your sister's side.

“hey babygirl,” your big sister whispers, and you smile.

the joint comes back to you, passed by Sarah. you take a few more hits, then pass it to Lena, whispering “moderation.” Lena nods seriously, taking the joint from you and taking another hit, then passing it off to Lacy again.

after a few more passes, Lena suddenly speaks up.

“i'm hungry!” she announces with a grin. the entire group cheers, and Sarah gleefully goes about burning two more hotdogs for your sister.

the night passes like so many other Sunday nights at your house. the four of you, now five, sit around the fire, talking about what went on last week and what you have planned for next week. the pleasant buzz from smoking keeps you floating, your social battery in a funny kind of stasis. you alternate between sitting up straight and laying back against Sarah, who gladly envelopes you in her arms every time.

(you want to cuddle with your sister, but both her and Sarah have too much control over the situation for your own control to slip.)

you're not entirely sure what time it is when, a couple joints later, Lena excuses herself from the fire, citing that she's sleepy and would like to go to bed. you think it's probably around 10 or 11 at night, but everything's a little hazy. you think a few minutes pass before Sarah nudges you, nodding in the direction of the house. Lacy and Moss are preoccupied. at some point, Moss left her camp chair to pin Lacy to hers and is now making out with her furiously. classic. you push yourself off of the couch, staggering inside and heading towards Lena's room.

the door opens, revealing a dark, empty room. you make a quizzical noise. confused, you head back to your room. you'll grab your phone and text your sister.

your big sister. who is, when you open your door, buried in your bed, deep under the covers and surrounded by pillows. she's making noises, and she's holding something to her face. with the kind of slowness of thought that comes from smoking for several hours straight, it takes you a moment to realize what you're seeing. in the time it takes you to formulate a response, Lena has gone stock still and started blushing.

you kick your door closed with one foot, eyes not leaving your big sister, who you're pretty sure has one hand deep in her pants, while her other hand holds a pair of your panties up to her face. a pair of panties that you discarded into the wash yesterday, after cumming in them while grinding on your big sister's leg.

she panics, tossing the panties away with gusto, but you don't care. still high and a little clumsy, you reach behind you to lock your door. Lena flinches at the sound, but you don't care. you stalk towards her, and her eyes go wide.

“you wanna smell me?” you ask.

your sister nods uncertainly. “it smells… nice… like you used to…”

that brings you up short for a second. “are you saying… you used to sniff my boxers?”

“yes…”

a shiver runs down your spine, and you start to salivate. you crawl onto the bed, stripping off your pants as you go.

“here, big sis. take as deep of a breath as you want,” you tell her. you haven't showered since yesterday, and you've been cooped up in your warm room for most of the time since then. your sister emerges from the blankets and crawls forward. you place your hand in her hair and gently guide her closer until her nose is pressed to your bush.

she takes a deep, deep breath, and your hand gets tighter in her hair. “Pen… please… can i…”

she trails off, so you pull on her hair gently, making her look up at you. her eyes are a little hazy, and her mouth is open. “yeah, love? what do you want?”

“i want… i want my little sister to… fuck my mouth…”

you groan, delicate control slipping. your grip on her hair gets tighter, and you pull her back from your bush until her mouth is near the tip of your cock. your other hand comes up, gripping it at the base. a string of precum on the tip breaks, falling onto Lena's stomach. you maneuver your cock gently, telling your sister “stick out your tongue.”

she opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue excitedly.

“good girl," you grunt. your hand leaves her hair and comes to her cheek, guiding her toward your cock gently. "you wanna taste my pre, love?”

more had already built up, leaving a thick bead at the end. you lower your cock head until it rests on your sister's tongue. it takes a second for it to register, but after a moment Lena's eyes cross, and she shudders. like a good girl, though, she keeps her mouth open for you.

“do you think you can take me, love? if you start to gag, smack my leg with your hand, okay? i'll pull back.”

Lena's tongue retreats for a second so she can say “don't worry, babygirl, i don't have a gag reflex.” you growl and grab her by the hair again to push her head down onto your cock. you almost cum immediately. she's eager, and she's good. you're huge, and you have a lot of cum, even after E. but somehow, she still takes you all.

“fuck, Lena!” you groan, trying to hold back. “fuck, please, i-”

she pulls back, a glimmer of clarity in her eyes, and says “what did i tell you when we woke up yesterday? you can cum for me any time; little sister privilege.”

you growl at her, immediately sticking your cock back in her mouth. she stays upright, but you see the trembling in her shoulders, so you surge forward and pin her against the wall. she relaxes, and you follow her down, bucking your hips and burying your cock in her throat. every time, she takes it all the way to the base, breathing deep and even somehow.

after a moment, you notice that she inhales every time her nose is in your bush. you growl again, grabbing her head with both hands and thrusting one last time, burying her in your bush and burying your cock in her throat. you cum, rope after hot, sticky rope. your big sister gulps it down eagerly, her throat clenching around your cock and sending you into spasms.

eventually you pull your dick from your big sister's throat, and she takes deep, shuddering breaths. there's tears in her eyes, and you rush to wipe them away as gently as you can while shaking like you are. she smiles and leans in to kiss you. she tastes like cum. your big sister's mouth tastes like your cum.

[onyxluvjiro]

What if…. Betty x Reader x Mateo????

I actually saw a fic about this on ao3… was really good so shout out to that fic!

—

- gender neutral reader

- tit sucking, fondling, cock warming, somnophilia if u squint, threesome

—

The softest sex you’d ever get to experience in your life was with these two. Individually they were both stereotypically soft, i mean they are your bed and blankets. But when it comes to the both of them, at the same time, it was almost dizzying how soft and loved you felt in this moment.

your face was stuffed in between Betty’s tits right now, you had used the glasses on her to warm up during the cold winter. The repair man was coming to fix Hector after he had broken, so while he wasn’t fixed, you had to find other ways to stay warm.

Lucky for you, your bed is always up for a cuddle, and what better way to warm up than to have your face shoved in between her soft tits. You had a blanket thrown on top of the two of you, not bringing him to life using Skylar, yet you could still feel his warmth resting above you.

So it doesn’t come as a surprise when you feel him practically materializing on top of you, his cheek squished against your back as betty lets out a cute giggle. You just groan, the warmth of his body only making you feel even better.

“Well hello sweet boy.”

you hear Betty coo, a hand lifting from your back to where you assume to be mateo’s head. You hear a soft sigh, and the body on top of yours relaxing further. You mostly feel the mumble of Mateo saying hi back, too relaxed to to much.

That was until another burst of cold air hits your skin, forcing a shiver to rack through your body. The two others find themselves wrapping their arms closer to you, just to try and warm you up more.

“You know, there’s other ways to warm up.”

Betty suggests with that oh so teasing tone of hers.

So here you were now, Betty’s own bare chest pressed against yours as she sloppily makes out with you, the feeling of Mateo’s lips lazily lapping at your sex has you reeling. Both of them, lazily fondling your pretty body, soaking up each whine and moan.

It wasn’t until you were promptly flipped onto your knees and chest, your own face burried into Betty’s pretty cunt that you truly felt warm. Especially when you felt Mateo’s pretty cock sink into your hole, hitting all the right spots with each thrust.

You were in heaven, there was no doubt about it. How gently Betty tugged at your hair, cooing praises down at you while Mateo slowly fucks you, the sounds of smacking hips as he lets out the cutest moans known to man. This was truly the only place that could warm you up.

You try your best at lapping at Betty’s pussy, sucking and licking up all the juices. It was so sloppy, your lower face covered in her slick, but you were determined to please, and that you did.

Even after Betty and Mateo cum, filling you up with his sweet fluids, Betty finds her fingers pressed into your hole, just to keep you oh so warm as you snuggle in between them. Your cheek once again pressed against betty’s breast, Mateo’s hand massaging your chest as Betty’s fingers stuff your hole. They tell you it’s to keep you oh so warm filled with his cum, but you know better.

It’s not until you feel Mateo’s cock poking at your back do you realize it wasn’t over. Not until Mateo’s cock was burried deep inside you, Betty’s hands rubbing your back as you rest on her tits, completely tired out. You were ment to stay there, to cock warm Mateo until you dozed off. And that’s exactly what happened.

—

the need for them to smother me in love n tiddies is so real

also i went on a date recently and might be going on a second one with her :3

[on-the-clear-blue]

Unlike the others, Connor wasnt very excited about having a new "brother".

He had only really truly started to get along with Clark (yes he refused to call the man anything else) a few months ago after years of emotional will tehy won't theying, and it was only now that Connor actually had a room at the Kents.

But as always, they were firmly still awkward around each other, usually needing another person there to be social lubricant to make sure neither of them said something random like "Why dont you love me" or "I never wanted you to exits but-"

Anyways...after the sudden outburst of swearing and cursing to flipping Batman of all people, Connor was looking forward to at least introducing Danny to Tim...not the other Bats or Birds just yet, no body needs that kinda attitudes or bullshittery without deserving it.

His eyes flicked between this Maddie lady and Clark, he could see the resignation on her face, along with guilt and a swiftly crushed hope.

('Wow, great job Clarkie, way to just harsh the vibe')

The boy, or really, teen was standing by his mother looking he would rather be anywhere else, and Connor could understand that too a T.

He was told that Danny had powers and a lab accident, so at least the usually Kryptonian suite of weirdness mixed with whatever kinda crazy science that the Fentons had cooked up (Clark had been tight lipped with just what exactly the woman and the husband she cheated on were doctors of, though he was sure a quick stop to Titans Tower or a YJ base to run a search)

What Connor was trying to get at was...Danny would 100% get a "Super" title and some blue spandex in a week tops, maybe sooner. Something about being around Clark just made perfectly sane people decide to be heros and vigilantes.

(For fucks sake he is sure he had caught Lois brainstorming a hero name out loud before she saw him and blushed harder than he had ever seen her do before telling him to go clean his room)

---

Clark stared into Madelines eyes, daring the woman to say something else, to try and insulate that he could have been cared the least bit about her still.

There was a time, years back, that he would have dropped everything in his life to see this woman again, he had built her up to be some sort of goddess in his mind and yet.

The second he actually saw her again all he could feel was apathy for her, and anger at being denied access to his son.

He watched as she nodded, eyes squeezed shut before letting out a long sigh, before finally turning away from Clark, and to the son he never knew he had.

"Daniel, I love you. More than you ever could know...Jack and I will fix this, we...it was our fault this is happening. I will call you when I can okay? Jazz will be coming up next week with some supplies and a few..." the woman turned to the Kents, then to the people milling in the street, it seemed the Fenton sized tank was gathering more attention the longer it stayed there on the busy city street.

"She'll have some vials, it should speed up the healing process, dont use any of *those* powers dont turn, anything with ecto can alert them, just..." the woman's eyes flicker to the Kents once more, "Learn from your...learn from Clark how to defend yourself, he will know a bit more than I do about what you can do."

The two, mother and son, shared a long hug before they pulled apart, and like that Madeline Fenton was out of his life once again.

---

Okay yeah Jon had so many questions and he was going to explode if he cant ask any of them.

But a quick look to his mom and- Yeah the clouds look great today, totally not going to just blurt stuff out, it would be...untactful.

He watched as the silver hulking beast actually crunched down the street, leaving some cracks on the pavement as it sped off...

Yeah the Mayor was so going to hear about that...at least this time it wasnt one of his family members that caused the destruction of public property!

Wait tho if it was Danny's mom then...technically it was...

"Dad can I show Daniel around the house! I want to give him the tour!" Jon decided that, it wanst worth worrying about the city's budget when he had a new brother to show around!

His Dad looked towards him, having stared after the silver tank as it left until he called out, and he only gave a small smile when Jon usually would have gotten a grin, "Of course kiddo, just go slow with him...Daniel is still healing."

Right, he was hurt...wait what even hurt him? Like he was a half Kryptonian right? Did this GIW group find Kryptonite? Ughhhhh that would totally, utterly suck dealing with...

But thats Later Jon's problem, right now he had something better to do!

"Come on! We're sharing a room since Kon is a jerk and didn't want to share! Mom and I built a bunk bed and I'll even let you get the top bunk if you want! Oh this is gonna be so cool!"

Grabbing his new brothers hand, Jon started to, carefully, drag him into the condo building.

---

After one awkward elevator ride up, filled with the youngest chattering away about anything that seemed to pop into his mind, Danny was very quickly realizing just how much the low ecto in Metropolis was affecting him.

Danny was usually pretty good with kids younger than him, having done his fair share of babysitting jobs and dealing with Young Blood, and hell, Jon wasnt even that much younger than him, barely a year and half younger (if Tuckers super secret technique of scrolling through Clark and Lois's Facebook accounts were correct)

But by the time the elevator stopped, and he was able to step out, Danny was utterly drained.

Maybe it was the cross country road trip at break neck speed, dodging their GIW tails and fighting anyone that they couldn't go around, plus the extra burden of healing...

Danny only wanted to eat a dozen Nasty Burgers, down a gallon of cola and hibernate till next spring.

Though, he didnt have the heart to phase through Jon's grip on his arm, and let himself be pulled along.

Once inside the apartment he would be staying in for an undisclosed period of time (about long enough for his mom and...yeah Jack is still his Dad, to dismantle the GIW), Danny could see that it was a pretty average place, nothing super fancy but still better than his house. Though not as fancy as Sam's mansion.

"Okay so this is the living room, Mom says we can watch what ever we want as long as it is pg-13 or keep it down if it's R, the dining room is over there, we only really eat then on Sundays." Danny nodded along, walking with yhe younger boy before pausing as he felt his phone vibrate in him.

Yes, inside of him.

He had lost the damn thing so many times between fights, extra dimensional hops and governmental black site medical exams that he had found it just so easy to keep inside of him for safe keeping.

Looking over to Jon to pull his hand away, he was met with a barely, pathetically hidden look of horror.

Then he felt a large hand on his shoulder and suddenly he was spun around, looking at his bio dad and oh shit he looks pissed...oh not pissed, okay many a bit angry but very concerned it seemed.

"Daniel...what is ringing inside of you?"

Ugh...he really didn't want to deal with this....

Maddie looked down at the floating, giggling baby boy in front of her, and felt old guilt bubble up inside of her.

It had been at first time Jack and her had fought, disagreeing on theories and neither of them left the arguments at the lab, Jazz had just been a little girl then, barely tottering around with a big gummy smile.

They had tried to patch it up, to pretend that the words they said in their rants didn't hurt, but in the end...Jack had taken Jazz up state, vist his family for the summer and leaving Maddy all alone.

It really was a moment of weakness, she had met Clark Kent and it was a whirlwind of emotions almost instantly.

She had a type, sue her, big nerdy farm boys that stuttered when they got kissed, who looked at her like she was the only thing that ever mattered...

She saw Jack in Clark's sky blue eyes, and the guilt built up.

The romance was wild and fast, like a runaway train hurtling towards a cliff. They moved fast, skipping through the long talks and planning that she had with Jack, and going right to the down and dirty.

Even though she loved it (even though she loved Him) Maddie knew that she couldn't keep it up, she admitted in the end, that she was married, that she had a child and neither of them wanted to tare that family apart.

She still remembered the betrayed look on Clark's face when she told him, when he found out that she was cheating on her husband, the kind of hurt that echoed in her mind, those sky blue eyes that she fell so hard for were like icy flakes as she held her head in her hands and cried.

She didn't know what she had wanted from.him then, to fight for her, perhaps to even comfort her at that time, even though she had spent the last months living a lie. In the end Clark just stood and left, his shoulders tight and back straight, walking out of the small apartment that Maddie rented in Metropolis to get away from it all.

It was for the best, she knew that. When Jack came back they managed to work the relationship out, Jazz had been young enough not to remember the fighting.

And by the time that the baby bump started to form, she didn't doubt that it couldn't have been Jacks child.

(A lingering in the back of her mind, a dark nothingness whispered, "its not his. It's the man you toyed with and threw away")

She had managed to push those thoughts aaway, convincing herself that it had to be Jacks, that the child (Daniel, after her grandfather) would bring them together, mend the cracks even more.

When the boy was born she could only see His eyes. Not Jacks cloudy, ocean blues, but Clark's stark sky colored ones, the same small curl in his downy baby hair.

She had never felt more in love, and never had felt more disgusted in herself.

Maddie let Jack think Danny was his, trying to keep the grimace off her face each time she saw her husband, the man she had spent so long building up a new branch of science with, coo and tickle the child that was proof of her infidelity.

When the boy started to float, that was when she felt a pang of panic, she didn't have the meta gene, she had tested and double tested to make sure, and came to the conclusion that it was Clark. That Clark had powers and never felt comfortable enough to tell her.

(Little did she know, that on the day she told him, Clark had a ring in his pocket, his mother's simple band that held a small diamond, he had planned to propose, to tell her his biggest secret, but the words died in his throat at her confession, and the box now sat, in the dark corner of his bedside table, only to be gazed at with a sorrowful heart in days he is reminded of the woman he thought he knew)

It was when the boy, Danny was age 14, bloody and delirious, with scars in a Y shape across his chest that oozed green instead of red, when she had to pull him out from a lab that used her own technology to torture her son that she finally pulled out her phone, with shaking hands she typed out the same number that even after all these years she still remembered.

"Hello Kent residency! How can I help ya?" A young voice answered, and she could hear the cheery sunshine smile through the line.

("He has a family now. Don't you dare feel jealous Madeline, you did this to yourself")

"Hi there, is Clark there? I-i need to speak to him about something." She managed to say with an even voice, even though her heart pounded in her chest.

"Uhhh...yeah I think Dad is around. Lemme-oop here he is" there was a rustling as the phone was passed between hands, a whispered conversation.

("Who is it Jon? *I dunno Dad, just some lady asking for you?* sigh, dont just answer my phone son, now go help your mother, it isnt fair that she does all the house work")

There was a shuffle of feet and then- "Hello, Clark speaking, may I ask who is calling?"

That voice. It was deep but gentle and caring, smooth like velvet with a hit of that country still in him.

"Clark...its been a while....I-its Madeline. Please dont hang up. I am just...I just need you help with something." She hears a sharp drawn in breath, the perfect stillness that she could have thought that he had hung up until-

"What do you need." It was clipped, words controlled and even, though there was something behind held back, old emotions and hurt dug back up with just a simple phone call.

"After...our-our relationship. I got back with Jack. I am not...not calling to get back together. It's just...Clark I was pregnant. It...he was yours."

There was another drawn in breath, then a sound closer to a whimper than a sigh "W-what?" (On the other side, the Man of Steel was hunching over the living room coffee table, glasses thrown to the side as he massaged the bridge of his nose, breath speeding up as his brain raced) "How...how can you be sure it is mine..."

She presses her back agaisnt a wall, her head leaning agaisnt it as her eyes closed, "Clark. He can fly. And lift cars. And...and lived when thousands of volts of electricity ran through his body...I dont have the meta gene, neither does my parents or Jack and his. The only conclusion i can come is that..."

"He's mine..." Clark's voice was limp, sounding far away yet all the same still there.

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, both clearly going though the motions, before Clark finally spoke "Why did you never tell me till now." There was a longing in his voice, one that Maddie couldn't fully understand.

"It wasnt until he was born that I knew for certain Danny was yours Clark. I didn't want to...to risk everything that Jack and I had built again after it all just to call you...I knew how much you had wanted to be a father but i...I was scared Clark."

The mans stuttered breathing was the only way that Maddie knew that he hadn't hung up, "I am only reaching out now that...that Danny is in danger. Things have been happening and...he needs to get away from Amity Park, the GIW have been hunting him. I have managed to stem most of the attempts but they are getting annoyed at the lack of results. I dont ask you this lightly Clark...but I have no body else to ask."

The line was quiet for a while, before Clark breathed out slowly, "I would love to meet him...a-and if he is in danger...i-i would be honored to take care of him."

---

Danny clutches his bag as he stares up at the tall condo, his nose scrunching up as he makes a face, "...Y'know mom when I said I wanted to cosplay Percy Jackson for Halloween I was thinking, more letting me dye my hair silver for the stripe thing and getting an orange t-shirt and a sword, less finding out my dad isnt actually my dad and getting shipped to New York..."

Maddie sighs as she rubs at her eyes, "Daniel...please. this is hard for me enough already. I really do not have the patience for the sass...Clark is a good man, he will take care of you while Jack and I take care of the GIW..."

Neither of them get the chance to respond as a tall man with curly black hair steps out from the condos entrance, flanked by a dark haired woman, a young boy with a big smile and a punkish looking teen that seemed to want to be anywhere else.

"Here they are Danny, the Kents."

[finelinevogue]

i had a thought for a part 2 for the 'ridiculous' lando fic (obvs don't have to do it if it's crap) but maybe you could write about them being together like a year later at the next monaco gp and her friends who were being horrible to her like trying to get back in touch with y/n so they could get gp tickets because shes going out with lando

i genuinely love all your fics though, i've been here for timeeee ahhaha

makes sense to be with you

yesss let’s do it my love!! and don’t you worry, i know you’ve been here with me since the beginning <33 i never forget a name!

pairing - lando norris x girlfriend!reader

word count - ~2k

It’s race day.

The nerves were high for everyone. Sometimes you felt like your nerves were even higher than Lando’s - which was a silly thing to think.

Lando had driven you to the Monaco Grand Prix this morning, spare hand on your thigh the entire journey. You had gotten ready together this morning and Lando had calmed your nerves with a few soft morning kisses in between stolen moments.

Pulling up outside the venue though, the tension felt high.

Lando stopped the car and sat with you for a moment.

“You good?” He asked, not letting your hand go.

“Yeah. Just thinking about this time last year.” You rested your head on the back of the headrest and turned to face your boyfriend.

He watched you with a handsome smile.

“A lot’s changed since then.”

“I know.”

He chuckled which caused you to laugh back.

“I’m nervous but I’m excited for this weekend.” He told you honestly.

“You’re going to be amazing.”

He looked from you to the crowds outside the car, snapping photos and recording videos of the two of you. It was busy out there, but nothing that the two of you couldn’t handle.

It had been difficult the past year trying to fit in beside Lando and keep up with his pace of life, but he had been so patient and caring with you. Because of him the last year had been easier than it could’ve been.

Your phone beeped.

You chuckled to yourself as you opened the WhatsApp notifications.

“Who is it?” Lando asked, peering over your shoulder because he knew you’d have nothing to hide. “Oh they can fuck right off.”

“Lando!” You laughed.

It was from your ex friends and their whole group. They had added you to their group chat last minute, knowing they needed you for what they wanted.

Rochelle : How are we supposed to get tickets for the Monaco GP?

Eva : Let’s ask Y/N now she’s with Lando

Jemima : so true

Rochelle : OMG yes!!!!

[ Y/N has been added to the chat ]

Eva : Hey Y/N! Long time no speak!

“Do they realise that you can see all the conversations above?” Lando scoffed beside you.

“Probably not.”

“Bunch of….” Lando started to mutter.

“Hey, don’t,” You stopped him before he could say something he would later regret, “I’m okay.”

You deleted the group chat from your phone and left it alone, placing your phone in your lap as you squeezed Lando’s hand tightly. You used your other hand to guide his face to yours.

“I’m okay.” You promised him.

He nodded.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like them though.”

“Enough now. Don’t let them ruin your day.” You softly brushed your thumb over his cheek and he leant into it a little more.

“Don’t want them to ruin yours either.”

“They can’t.” You shook your head.

Lando was confident with your answer and leaned in to give you a soft kiss. Neither of you noticed the influx of camera flashes as you kissed because both of you were too into each other.

He had this very special, unique, talent of making you feel like the only girl in the world.

“I love you.” He whispered close to you.

You kissed him again quickly this time, “I love you too. Now go win.”

“Don’t give me too much to do.” He joked, pulling away from you to continue the day and win this damn race for you.

• 🏎️💨 •

He fucking won.

He actually did it.

You had a pair of headphones wrapped around your neck as you cupped your hands over your mouth. You were in a state of shock and wonder.

Your Lando had done it. He had won Monaco and part of you liked to believe he had done it for you.

Engineers and teammates alike were all cheering in the garage. This was a huge win for them too.

Everyone swarmed outside to go and meet Lando and congratulate him. You weren’t sure whether to follow or to meet him later.

Your phone beeped in your pocket.

[ Y/N has been added to the chat ]

Rochelle : Congrats on Lando’s win Y/N 🍾

Eva : Yeah totally! Any big plans for tonight?

Jemima : OMG yesss we should all totally meet tonight & celebrate!

Rochelle : YEASSSS

You sighed, biting your lip as you questioned how to respond.

They had really texted at the wrong moment because this was supposed to be your time celebrating with Lando, not feeling bad for people who used to be horrid to you that you still sort of felt bad for.

You texted back, wanting this to be done.

You: hi :) thank you for congratulating lando! still not ready to be friends with you guys yet, but thanks for thinking of me.

A minute later you had been removed from the group chat.

You shook your head in disappointment.

Yes, they had been the ones to get you an invite onto a Monaco yacht party where you had first met Lando but that’s all they had ever done for you. The rest of the time they had been the type of friends to bring you down. You had often been the ‘one of these friends is not like the others’ friend.

Lando had helped you realise that you didn’t need them in your life and had supported you when you’d cut them out of your life.

It stung that now all they wanted you for was your connection to Lando and his fame.

It made you feel used.

No doubt Lando often felt the same. Hopefully never from you.

You pocketed your phone, remembering you were missing all the celebrations outside.

Before you could leave the garage to walk around to the podium, you heard Lando call your name.

He was jogging down the road and dodging people who were trying to give him a hug or a congratulatory handshake. His eyes were dead-set on you.

His hair was sweaty and his face was beet-red.

He looked so good though, with his jumpsuit folded over at his waist and his black fireproofs on underneath. He ran a hand through his messy hair as he approached you.

You took off the headphones around your neck, dropping them onto the table.

Lando reached you first, picking you up around your waist and spinning you around excitedly. Your arms held tightly around his neck with your face smushed into his head. He smelt of sweat and hair products.

You could feel him laugh into your chest and you couldn’t help but let the few tears that wanted to fall soak into his hair.

“I’m so proud of you.”

He squeezed you tighter, slowly stopping the spinning to put you safely back on the floor.

“You did it. You fucking did it.”

“I did it.” He smiled so big.

You untucked your head from where it had been hiding, but keeping your arms securely around his neck for closeness. His stayed around your waist.

You used one hand to brush some loose curls back into formation.

“Knew you could do it.”

“It’s ‘cause my lucky charm was watching on.” He nodded his head to you.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“The Monaco Grand Prix, honey.” You whispered excitedly like you couldn’t quite believe it. “What more could you want?”

He raised his eyebrows at you like that was a stupid question. You rolled your eyes before he could say something ridiculously lovely.

You tucked your head under his chin and moved your arms down so you could hug him around his waist. He hugged you closer, kissing the top of your head a few times before letting the moment sink in with his favourite person stood beside him.

“Lando! We need you for the podium!”

“Two minutes!”He shouted back, not giving you up.

“No… Now!”

Lando sighed loudly. You untucked yourself.

“Go. I’ll be right there. Enjoy this moment, okay?” You cupped both of his cheeks and brought his face down to kiss him softly. He deserved it.

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yourinstagram enjoy this moment 🍯🧡

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fan1 INSANE!!!!!

fan2 we 🧡 you y/n

oscarpiastri Well done mate!

fan3 🍯 because y/n calls lando honey?!!?????

♥️ by the author

fan4 LANDO FOR THE WIN

fan5 i love them ur honour

rochelle0110 Congrats 🥂 Let’s celebrate?

fan6 I WANT TO CELEBRATE WITH THEM

yourinstagram @/fan6 ur very welcome to xo

lando Going to enjoy this one for a long time to come (especially with you) 🧡

♥️ by the author

• 🏎️💨 •

Lando opened the door for you and held a hand out to help you leave his car.

He passed the car keys off to a valet and then returned his attention to you. He had already watched you get ready and had litterally sat next to you in the car on the way here, but seeing you step out of his car in that black dress made him want to drop to the floor and pray.

The paparazzi went crazy for you both, begging for a photo.

Unfortunately Lando wasn’t interested in giving them the time of day as he was still angry about previous things the tabloids had said about you and him.

He held onto you hand as you walked past everyone and into the club venue.

It was celebration night, post-race, and it was going to be a big one.

You didn’t need to show ID upon entry because everyone, especially bouncers, knew who the F1 people were in Monaco.

Lando gave the bouncers a handshake and wished them a goodnight whilst still holding on to you. He also slipped them a piece of paper and asked them to read it carefully.

“What was that?” You asked as you followed behind him.

“My ‘no entry’ list.”

“What?” You stopped short, your high heels digging into the floor as you did so. Lando bounced back towards you.

“I’ve asked that certain people are denied entry.” He shrugged.

“Like who?”

“Does it matter?” He asked.

“Yes. I don’t want to start some sort of feud.”

“Well, they started it when they decided to sell a story to the tabloids last year which made our relationship difficult for a while.” He was growing frustrated you could tell.

“Oh my God, will you let it go?” You stressed, dropping his hand to which he looked visibly offended by.

“No, Y/N, I won’t. They’re a bunch of arseholes and what? You want them to be a part of my celebration? I don’t think so.” He scoffed.

“I just don’t want this to be a big thing for us forever. Just let it go.”

He shook his head again before heading into the club. Without you.

Fuck.

You didn’t mean to get into an argument about it, but ever since your ex friends sold a story about Lando being a misogynist prick to the tabloids there had been a rift between everyone.

You had immediately dropped your friends and Lando had done damage control for weeks after.

You’d never believed the tabloids, but it was Lando that felt like he had to prove that he was nothing like what they were saying he was. Lando thought he had to make it up to you, as if he’d done something wrong. So it was easy to understand why they still got under his nerves.

You just wished they didn’t still taunt him.

You wanted him you find peace from all of this now like you had.

You followed him into the club a few minutes later, trying to calm your nerves after your stupid argument.

The club had cheered and roared when Lando had stepped into the main room, leaving you to slip in from the side unnoticed.

The room was dimly lit with orange strobe lights dancing around. A layer of smoke filtered through the air, along with the smell of vapes and sticky alcohol on the floor.

The music was all for Lando. The playlist included all his favourite songs.

You walked around the edge so you could go and grab a quick drink from the bar.

“Limoncello spritz please.” You asked the bartender.

A couple minutes later you had your drink in hand and slipped back into the corner of the room, a standing table available for you to rest your drink on.

All of Lando’s friends, family and fellow F1 mates were here celebrating. Lando was so loved and it was amazing to see.

He was currently stood on a raised platform with Oscar by his side. They were both bopping and singing out of tune to one of his favourite songs. You smiled as you watched on.

Then Lando caught your eyes.

He made his way off the platform and walked over to you. The crowd easily parted for him.

He didn’t stop until he was right in front of you.

“I’m sorry.” He said.

You nodded.

“I’m a dickhead sometimes.”

You pursed your lips to stop from smiling.

“But I love you too much to fight over something so boring.”

You nodded in agreement.

“So will you accept my apology and come dance with me? I did win the Monaco Grand Prix for you after all.”

You held out your hand like it was a white flag.

He took it was a grin, only to be shocked by the force of you pulling him closer so you could give him a proper kiss.

Your arms snaked around his neck and his felt their way across your waist, both of you sinking into each other and letting the rest of the room drift away.

You tilted your head to let him have a little extra room to kiss you and he followed. You could feel him smirking into the kiss, but he didn’t pull away. Not when he had you like this.

You tugged on his curls a little and his mouth opened with a gasp, allowing you to kiss him deeper. He tasted like some sort of berry flavoured alcohol, because it was known he was still a kid at heart. It made the kiss all the more delectable.

He pulled away breathlessly.

You tried to go in for another, still in a love haze.

“Later.” He whispered against your lips, but giving you another kiss all the same.

“Now.” You argued.

“Dance with me first.”

“Okay.” You tucked your face into his neck and gave him a kiss. He felt like home when you held him like this. Safe and comforting, even though you were in the middle of a club.

“Love you.” He spoke softly but loud enough for you to hear.

“Love you right back.”

“We okay?” He double checked.

“We’re okay.” You nodded. “Now let’s celebrate!”

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lando We won 🏆

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fan1 no lando, y/n won fr

fan2 THAT SHOULD BE ME

fan3 the hand placements… oh i’m dead

yourinstagram go go lando!!! so proud 🍯

♥️ by the author

lando @/yourinstagram My no 1 fan 🧡

lewishamilton 🧡

oscarpiastri Where did you & Y/N go….??

lando @/oscarpiastri 👀

fan4 deserved 👏

fan5 not y/n and lando flirting in the commentd

fan6 those are literally my parents wdym

[piastriprincess]

lovesick all over my bed  ⸻  lando  norris  x  reader  .

featuring  lando  norris  ,  new  relationship  ,  sickfic tw  illness  (non  major  just  gross  again) word count 2.5k author’s  note  the  HIGHLY  requested  part  two  of  burnin’  up  (for  you  baby)  is  here  and  she’s  beautiful  …  this  time  lando  is  taking  care  of  reader  <3  thank  you  guys  so  much  for  loving  these  two  ,  i  can’t  tell  you  how  much  it  means  to  me  that  you  like  any of my  work  enough  to  ask  for  more  .  special  thanks  as  well  to  @tsunodaradio and  @daydreamsharry  for  the  inspiration  for  this  one  !!  as always lmk what you think !! title  is  from  slut!  by  taylor  swift  (i’m  really  in  a  taylor  writing  era  aren’t  i  …)

The thing no one warns you about when you start dating your best friend is that they somehow become even more insufferable when you’re sick. 

You and Lando have been officially together for six days. Six days since he woke up and remembered absolutely everything he’d said in the feverish haze of the day before, poking you in the side until you opened your eyes so he could nervously ask you if you wanted to “give it a proper go.” Six days of napping tangled together, of sharing lazy cough syrup kisses, of nursing him back to health. One hundred and forty-four hours of learning how to be something more than friends. 

Not that you’re counting, of course. 

The thing is, being Lando’s girlfriend is not all that different from being his best friend. You still steal his hoodies. You still bicker with each other about what takeout to order. He still tells stupid jokes just to see you roll your eyes. Now, he just kisses you after you inevitably laugh at them anyway — soft, tentative, like it’s still surreal to him too. Nothing changed, and yet everything did, all at once. It surprised you, how easy it felt right from the start.

Easy, that is, until you started feeling the telltale scratch in your throat, throbbing pressure in your head, and exhaustion that sunk bone-deep. Easy until you had to come up with a mundane excuse to flee your new boyfriend’s apartment and go home so he wouldn’t see you getting properly sick. Easy until he woke up this morning apparently completely fine, and you woke up feeling like you’d been hit by a bus.

You’ve been back at your place for under twelve hours, and you already feel a hundred times worse. You’re curled up in bed, buried under every blanket you own with an episode of trash TV queued up that you barely have the energy to pay attention to, when your phone buzzes on your nightstand with another text from Lando.

[10:30 AM] barely coughed AT ALL this morning [10:31 AM] live look at my immune sistem → 🐶 [10:32 AM] get it?? cos i got that DAWG in me [10:49 AM] wanna grab lunch later?? that new place by the harbor?? [11:03 AM] stop ignoring me i miss youuuuu xxxxx

You stare at the messages as your episode of Love Island plays on, forgotten. The sappy part of you wants to say yes just to see him, but the much more rational part of you knows you can barely sit up without feeling dizzy. 

There’s something else, too. The thought of him seeing you like this — in yesterday’s clothes, unshowered, looking properly awful — sends your stomach roiling with something like nerves. Which, objectively, is ridiculous. You’ve been best friends for years. He’s seen you after your worst hangovers, your biggest heartbreaks, even during the Great Food Poisoning Incident in Baku 2022. But it feels… different now, somehow. 

When you were just friends, being gross around each other felt like a badge of honor, some kind of award you could pin to your unshakeable bond. Best friends through anything. Now that you’ve crossed the invisible threshold into something more, you can’t silence the tiny, annoying voice in your head that’s wondering if he’ll look at you differently. If seeing you like this might make him reconsider before you have the chance to really get started together. 

You sigh. Roll over. Tap out a quick response.

[11:05 AM] sorry bub i can’t [11:05 AM] i think i caught your plague :(

He texts back almost immediately:

[11:06 AM] WHAT [11:06 AM] why didn’t you say anything??????? [11:07 AM] is that why you left so fast last nite [11:08 AM] im coming over rn

Exactly what you were hoping to avoid. You groan, typing as fast as your sluggish fingers will allow.

[11:10 AM] lan i’m fine!!! promise [11:11 AM] stay home stay well

His reply pops up before you can even put your phone down.

[11:11 AM] too late i’m alredy in the car! [11:11 AM] see you soon love xx

You let out a sigh, muffled into your pillow. Of course he’s coming over. Of course he’s acting like a new boyfriend who has something to prove and completely ignoring your very reasonable request. 

You’re in the middle of contemplating the opportunity cost of dragging yourself to the bathroom and washing your face so that you look marginally more human when you hear a key turn in your door. Probably the spare key you gave him years ago after one too many times of banging on your door at 3 AM after Jimmyz. You mentally kick yourself for that moment of weakness as the door slams shut; you’d take a hundred more nights of interrupted sleep if it prevented Lando from seeing you like this right now. 

“Hiiiii, love,” he singsongs, voice carrying down the hallway to your room. “I’m coming in. Hope you’re decent.”

You are affirmatively not decent. You can feel the grease in your hair, damply matted to your forehead. Your nose is achy and probably rubbed red-raw by now. You’re practically drowning in one of Lando’s old hoodies, holes at the cuffs, front pocket filled with used tissues. 

“Lan, you can’t,” you croak, pulling your duvet over your head. “You don’t want to see me. I’m disgusting.”

“Impossible. I always want to see you,” he calls, undeterred, and you can hear his footsteps getting closer. “Also, I’ve seen you vomit tequila all over the sidewalk and my shoes after Miami last year, so I think we’re past the point of you being embarrassed around me, yeah?”

“That was different! I was drunk, not diseased.”

“You’re not diseased, you muppet, you’ve got the flu,” he says softly. The mattress dips slightly as he sits beside you, and you can feel his hand smoothing over the duvet where your head is. “Come on, love, covers off.”

“No,” you say, voice muffled through the bedding.

“Please? It’s been, like, a whole day since I’ve seen you. I miss your face.”

Unfortunately, fifteen years of friendship means he knows exactly what to say, exactly which button to push to get you to cave. Despite yourself, you peek out from under the covers. Lando is sitting on the edge of the bed, faded tee clinging to his biceps, cheeks pink from the sun. He looks annoyingly healthy. Practically glowing, the bastard.

“There she is,” he murmurs with a smile that’s impossibly soft, eyes crinkling at the corners as he looks down at you. “My pretty girl.”

You frown, pushing the covers off. “Don’t flirt with me when I look like death.”

“Don’t tell me what to do. I will flirt with you any day of the week, in any condition,” he scoffs theatrically. “In fact, I think flu-you is extra cute.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you rasp, as your heart does something like a backflip in your chest.

“Well, that’s tough for you, ‘cos you’re stuck with me now,” he replies lightly. “Your personal nurse, until you get better.”

You push up onto your elbows. “Lan, I’m serious. I’ve got tea in the kitchen and cough syrup in the medicine kit and, like, three full boxes of tissues. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” The speech probably would have landed better if you didn’t immediately dissolve into a coughing fit that wracks through your body, leaving you breathless. 

“Right,” he says, clearly unconvinced. “Tea in the kitchen, yeah? Have you made any of it?”

“Well, no, but —”

“Taken any of that cough syrup?”

You scowl. “I was going to. Eventually.”

He gives you a knowing look. “And how many of those tissues are currently living in the front pocket of my hoodie?”

You glance down, grimace slightly. “That’s not the point.”

“It’s exactly the point,” he says softly, smoothing your hair off your forehead. “It’s okay to let someone take care of you. Stop being stubborn.”

“I’m not being stubborn, I’m being practical. Look, I know you want to help, but I’m completely gross and miserable and I promise, I can —” 

“Love, I get it,” he interrupts, grabbing your hand and lacing your fingers with his. “I know you’re tough as nails and you don’t need a nurse and you can do it all yourself. But you don’t have to. I’m here and I want to take care of you like you did for me. Please, just… let me?”

He’s rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, and his eyes are full of the kind of tenderness that makes your chest ache, and it’s like the fight goes out of you all at once. You sigh, flopping back onto the bed (half for dramatic effect, half because it’s starting to make you dizzy to hold your head up for so long). “Ugh. Fine. You’re very persuasive when you want to be, you know.”

His smile lights up his entire face. “Right? It’s one of my many talents. Up there with driving fast and being absolutely devastatingly handsome.”

“Don’t forget humble,” you say dryly.

“The most humble,” he agrees cheerfully, leaning over to give you a kiss on the forehead. His lips are cool against your skin, steady and sure, and somehow they make you feel a little less awful. “Right. First things first, you’re getting a proper shower, because I know you’ll feel better clean, and while you do that I’m going to make you something to eat.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You nearly burned down your apartment trying to boil pasta water, bub. What are you about to terrorize my kitchen with?”

“Your mum’s weird soup,” he shrugs. “Already called her for the recipe. Reckon it’s not too hard.”

You blink at him, surprised. “You called my mum?”

“Well, yeah,” he mumbles, sticking his hands in his pockets shyly. “I knew it’s what you’d want. That’s what people do when they lo-” 

He stops short, color flaring high in his cheeks. “When they care about each other,” he finishes, eyes darting away from your face to the floor. 

When they love each other. It’s not like he said it, not really. But he almost did, and even though you’ve only been officially dating for less than a week the concept isn’t nearly as frightening as it should be. You don’t say it either, not now. Your fingers find his, though, and you squeeze his hand gently, like you’re telling him me too without saying anything at all. 

“Okay,” you say finally as you sit up slowly, trying to sound normal despite your racing heart. “Shower it is, then. But I swear, if you mess up my soup…” 

“You wound me,” he says, dramatically clutching at his chest. “I’m going to make you the best weird lemony broth thing this side of Somerset.”

You snort, rolling your eyes as you get to your feet. But as soon as you stand, the world tilts sideways and you wobble dangerously. Lando’s there in an instant, steadying you against him. 

“Careful, love,” he says softly into your ear, hands bracing on your waist. 

“I’m fine,” you mumble even as you cling to his arm like a lifeline. “Just a head rush.”

“Are you gonna be alright to shower alone?” he asks. “Because I could definitely supervise. You know. For medical reasons.”

“Lando Norris,” you gasp, faux-scandalized.

“Nursing purposes only,” he grins down at you, goofy. “Naughty nursing purposes.”

“Ew, freak,” you snort, shoving him lightly on the chest and heading to your bathroom. 

“Still not hearing a no!” he calls after you, his giggle echoing down your hallway from the kitchen.

By the time you emerge from the shower fifteen minutes later, hair damp and feeling vaguely less awful than before, Lando’s ladling soup into an ugly kangaroo-shaped mug he got you in Australia years ago and you promptly buried in the back of your pantry. “Perfect timing,” he grins, holding out the mug to you. “Bon appétit.”

You take the mug, inspecting it carefully as you settle onto a kitchen stool. “This actually smells right.”

“Oi. Have some faith, please,” he protests. “Your mum gave me very detailed instructions. Don’t think I’ve ever had so many directions on how to cut up ginger.”

You take a tiny sip of the soup. It tastes perfect — like home and comfort and being cared for. You close your eyes for a moment just to savor the taste, the feeling of being known so well. 

“Is it okay?” Lando asks, eyes wide like he’s terrified he’s somehow managed to mess it up. 

“It’s perfect,” you admit. “Thank you.” 

He beams so bright it feels like you’re looking at the sun. “‘Course, love. Anything for you.”

You finish the soup slowly, your boyfriend watching the entire time, claiming he can see the nutrients working their way into your system. You try to protest that’s not how it works, but you’re too tired to keep up the banter for long. He senses it immediately, and you let him lead you back to your room, draping your weight across him as your world goes soft around the edges. 

“Budge over, yeah?” Lando grins as you crawl under your duvet, kicking off his sneakers before climbing into bed beside you and unpausing your episode like he’s in it for the long haul. “So. What’s going on with Harry and Helena?”

You’re just drowsy enough to gravitate into his side, resting your head on his shoulder and throwing your leg over his waist. “Who knows with those two,” you say, stifling a yawn. “But they’ll recouple, I think.”

He giggles softly, fingertips tracing against your thigh. “You’re tired, aren’t you? I give it ten minutes before you’re out cold.”

“No way, there’s a recoupling at the end of this episode. ‘Sides, I’m not that tired,” you mumble. But even as you say it, your eyelids are getting heavy. The combination of his warmth, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and the comfortable weight of his arm around you is better than any medicine you could buy.

“Sure, love,” he agrees, fingers threading gently into your hair. “Whatever you say.”

Apparently, he knows you better than you know yourself, because by the first commercial break, you’re fighting to stay awake, curling further into his chest. 

“‘M sorry. You’re so gonna get sick again,” you mumble, practically on top of him and burying your face into the crook of his neck as your eyes finally slip shut. 

He sighs happily against your skin. “Totally worth it.”

[mishappeningss]

omg i’m obsessed, we need more scene of our driver with the rookies!!

oh, yes. the rookies love her. if max were their grid dad, that automatically makes her their grid momma. everyone lives for this family, even your favorite drivers!

more about driver!yn

Max is the tired father figure who just wanted a quiet career but now walks into media pens like he’s about to say, “I’m not mad. Just disappointed.” He’s always asking, “Where’s YN?” like she’s the only one who can keep their wild children from zip tying each other to garage doors.

YN is the emotionally unavailable but fiercely protective mom figure who drinks energy drinks at 9 am and tells the rookies, “You didn’t see me.” She’ll scream at them while also giving them the key to her car and a pack of Oreos. Grid wife energy. Always has somebody’s glasses.

Together? They co-parent the rookies like it’s their full time job they didn’t apply for.

Ollie calls YN ‘mum’ with full British sincerity. He clings to her arm post race like a victorian orphan. Max pretends not to enjoy it but gave him a ride on the scooter once. Gets bribed with pizza to stop live-tweeting things he shouldn’t.

Kimi is the baby genius. Quiet, a menace. Sits beside YN on planes and asks philosophical questions. Max says, “Don’t encourage him.” But she immediately does. Once made Max google “existential dread.”

Isack is constantly plotting something. Probably a fake ID ring, or ordering a bunch of merch and blame it on another rookie. Calls Max ‘dad’ as a joke until Max actually grounds him. Has the biggest soft spot for YN, brings her weird snacks.

Liam is only stable when YN’s present. Big middle child energy. Can be seen screaming “I didn’t start it!” across the paddock as Max is counting to ten in his mind. Definitely the one who almost set something on fire at the Red Bull motorhome.

Gabriel’s the one who says “Let’s do something stupid,” and is already halfway up the scaffolding when YN says no. Max doesn’t understand the point he’s trying to make, but nods like a disappointed professor.

Franco is the golden child. Follows Max around like a duckling but worships YN like she’s a Disney princess. She calls him ‘baby’ and makes sure he eats right. The others throw chips at him because he’s clearly the favorite.

Honorary mention: Lando. The loud cousin who keeps getting “advice” from YN and “judged” by Max. Somehow is the always the reason why someone’s crying. Thinks he’s one of the rookies. He isn’t. Max reminds him of that weekly.

a small moment from our grid family :)

They’re in the Red Bull hospitality, long after the race is over. The paddock is thinning out. Max is sitting on a folding chair, half-lidded eyes trained on the floor, sipping water from a lukewarm bottle.

He looks exhausted — his fireproofs peeled halfway down, hair a little damp, the kind of tired that comes only from wrangling points and rookies in the same day.

YN walks in holding a tray. Not for herself, she’s already eaten. She just knows none of them have.

“Eat,” she said simply, placing it on the small table in front of him.

He doesn’t even look up. “What is it?”

“Something with protein. Don’t be difficult.”

He sighs, and she doesn’t push — just sits beside him, crossing her legs beneath her and leaning back in a way only she can: careless, relaxed, absolutely unbothered by the chaos she probably caused earlier.

Then— a crash. A yell. And a voice.

“Franco took my snacks!” — “He pushed me first!”

Max closes his eyes, “No.”

YN doesn’t even blink. She reaches into her hoodie pocket and pulls out two lollipops. “Go fix it,” she says, handing them to Max.

He looks at her like she’s lost her mind. “What am I supposed to do with these?”

“Bribe them.”

“I’m not bribing children.”

“Fine.” She shrugs. “Then I will.”

Before she could stand, Max stops her. “Just five minutes,” he says. “Before you go stop World War Three.”

She sits back down. Doesn’t say anything, just nudges the tray closer to him.

Outside, Liam’s yelling something about sabotage. Oliver is calling someone a traitor. Isack’s laughing. Inside, Max finally picks up the fork. YN closes her eyes.

Just five minutes. That’s all they’ll ever get, but it’s enough.