#one day i will use this setting as more than just set dressing i promise

[honeyscara]

❝not a joke ❞ — Shoyo Hinata

-haikyu{manga spoilers}

Synopsis: childhood besties to lovers, hinata is finally back from Brazil and things take a turn when he's back.

C/w: fem! reader x timeskip!hinata, no smut in this part but it's suggestive

~4.2k words, this is part 1

You fidgeted with the hem of your sweater as you stood near the arrival gates, your heart pounding in anticipation. It had been two years since you last saw Hinata. Two years since he had left for Brazil, chasing his dream. You had kept in touch—video calls, texts, the occasional voice note—but nothing could compare to seeing him in person again.

Then, finally, you spotted him.

The moment he stepped through the gates, your breath hitched.

This wasn’t the same scrawny, hyperactive boy who used to race you to the convenience store or challenge you to impromptu volleyball matches at the park. No, this Hinata was different. He stood taller, broader, his frame filled out with muscle in a way that made your stomach flip. His tanned skin, sharp jawline, and confident stride made it clear—Brazil had changed him.And damn, he looked good.

Your legs moved before your brain could catch up. "sho!"

His head snapped up, and the second his eyes landed on you, his entire face lit up. "___!"

In an instant, you crashed into him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as his strong ones curled around your waist. He lifted you off the ground effortlessly, spinning you once before setting you down, his laughter ringing in your ears.

"You're real," you mumbled into his shoulder, squeezing him tight. "You're actually here."

Hinata pulled back just enough to look at you, his wide grin never faltering. "Of course I’m here! Did you think I was some clone?" He laughed, the sound warm and familiar, and you felt a lump form in your throat.

You smacked his arm playfully. "Shut up, you know what I mean."

Hinata chuckled, his grip on you tightening for a moment before he finally pulled back just enough to look at you. His bright eyes searched your face, as if making sure you were real too.

"And you haven’t changed at all!" he teased, ruffling your hair like he used to, though there was something softer in the way he did it now—more affectionate than playful.

You swatted his hand away with a pout. "Speak for yourself! What happened to the little tangerine I used to know?"

Hinata grinned, flexing his arm exaggeratedly. "Turns out playing beach volleyball in the sun every day does wonders!"

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. "Yeah, yeah, whatever, big shot. Let’s go—your mom’s been texting me every five minutes asking if you’re here yet."

His eyes widened. "Oh, crap. She’s gonna kill me if I don’t call her right now."

With a laugh, you grabbed his wrist and started dragging him toward the exit. The warmth of his skin against yours sent a jolt through you, a reminder that he was really back. No more time differences, no more lagging video calls. Just him. Here. Now.

As you walked side by side, Hinata glanced at you, a small smile playing on his lips. "I missed you."

Your steps faltered slightly before you caught yourself. The words were simple, but the way he said them—soft, sincere—made your heart stutter.

You swallowed, pushing away the sudden rush of emotions. "Yeah, me too, Sho."

~

The next day came quicker than you expected, and as you got ready, a strange mix of excitement and nervousness settled in your chest. It shouldn’t have felt like a big deal—you were just taking Hinata out for the meal you’d promised. But something about it felt… different. Maybe it was because you weren’t kids anymore. You had both grown, matured, changed. And though Hinata was still his usual energetic self, there was a newfound confidence in him that made your stomach flip.

You smoothed down the floral dress you’d picked out—simple, cute, just short enough to feel a little daring but not too revealing. With one last look in the mirror, you grabbed your bag just as the doorbell rang.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door.

And Hinata froze.

His brain seemed to short-circuit for a second as he took you in, eyes widening slightly before he quickly cleared his throat.

"You…" He blinked rapidly, trying to shake off whatever had just come over him. "You look—uh—wow."

You raised an amused brow. "Wow?"

A faint flush crept up his tanned cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean—you look really nice! Like, really, really nice."

Your lips curled into a teasing smile. "Thanks, Sho."

And just like that, his usual grin returned, though his heart still hammered in his chest as he stepped aside for you. What the hell was that? You’d always been pretty, but for some reason, tonight, seeing you like this, it felt like his heart might actually leap out of his chest.

~

The restaurant you picked was a cozy little spot, nothing too fancy but perfect for catching up. The two of you settled into a booth, ordering your food while slipping easily into conversation. Hinata had endless stories about Brazil—the intense training, the beautiful beaches, the culture, the food. His eyes practically sparkled as he talked, his excitement infectious.

At some point, between bites of your meal, the topic of dating came up.

"So," you leaned back, stirring your drink with your straw. "Did you see any hot girls in Brazil? You know, sitting on the benches watching you play?"

Hinata smirked, eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh yeah, plenty."

You hadn’t expected your stomach to twist at his response, but it did. You forced a laugh, taking a sip of your drink to mask the unexpected pang of disappointment. "Wow, look at you. Living the dream, huh?"

He grinned but didn’t say anything right away, just watching you with a knowing look. Then, after a beat, he leaned forward on his elbows. "I was just teasing, you know."

You blinked. "Huh?"

Hinata chuckled, shaking his head. "You looked kinda sad for a second."

You quickly waved him off. "Pfft, no way. I was just surprised, that’s all."

He didn’t seem convinced, but he let it slide. Instead, he tilted his head, curiosity dancing in his expression. "What about you? Did you like anyone while I was gone?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Please. No guys would go for me."

Hinata frowned. "What? That’s not true."

You gave a half-hearted shrug. "It’s fine, really. I mean, I guess I just wasn’t anyone’s type. Maybe I should start carrying a sign that says desperate and available might speed up the process." You laughed at your own joke, but Hinata didn’t.

Instead, his brows furrowed, and he leaned in just slightly, voice softer now. "You know, if any guy didn’t see how amazing you are, that’s their loss."

Your breath hitched, your fingers tightening around your glass.

He said it so naturally, like it was just a fact. Like it wasn’t something that made your heart stutter in your chest.

For a moment, you couldn’t speak. The way Hinata looked at you—earnest, unwavering—made your usual ability to deflect and joke disappear. You swallowed, breaking eye contact as you toyed with the rim of your glass.

"Well," you said, forcing a chuckle to lighten the mood, "good thing I have you to boost my ego."

Hinata huffed, shaking his head. "I’m serious." His voice was firmer this time. "You’re funny, kind, and you’ve always been there for me. I don’t get why some guy hasn’t already swept you off your feet."

Your heart pounded against your ribs. He said it so casually, like it was obvious. Like it wasn’t making your chest tighten in a way that felt dangerous.

You tried to brush it off with another laugh. "Guess I’m just too intimidating."

Hinata snorted. "Yeah, right." Then, after a beat, he grinned. "Maybe guys just think they don’t have a chance with you."

That caught you off guard. "What?"

He shrugged, leaning back in his seat. "I mean, think about it. You’re cool, you’re cute—maybe they’re just scared to confess."

Your breath hitched. Did he just—?

Before you could even process it, Hinata stretched his arms over his head, completely unaware of the effect his words had on you. "Anyway! Doesn’t matter. If they’re too dumb to see how great you are, then they don’t deserve you."

You stared at him, something fluttering in your chest. He was still the same Hinata—loud, a little clueless, always brimming with energy. But sometimes, just sometimes, he said things that made you wonder if maybe he saw you differently than he used to. And maybe… maybe you were starting to see him differently too.

As the two of you stepped out of the restaurant, a sudden downpour greeted you. The once-clear sky had turned dark, raindrops pelting down hard against the pavement.

"Ah, crap," you muttered, pulling your arms close to yourself as a chilly breeze followed. "I didn’t check the weather."

Hinata groaned, rubbing the back of his head. "Me neither." He glanced around before perking up. "hey, my place is closer. No one’s home either so you can stay over...maybe?"

You stared at him for a second before smirking. "Hinata Shoyo, are you trying to get me alone?"

Hinata choked. "Wha—?! No! I didn’t mean it like that!" He flailed his arms, face heating up. "It’s just—y-you always used to come over when we were kids, right? It’d be like a sleepover! But, uh, not in a weird way! Just—y'know—so you don’t have to walk home in the rain!"

You stared at him, amused by how fast he was unraveling.

He cleared his throat, still clearly flustered. "I-I have a spare pair of clothes you can borrow! So you don’t get sick!"

You bit back a smile, watching him trip over his words. "Relax, I’m just joking with you."

His shoulders slumped with relief. "Don’t do that to me," he whined.

You laughed, nudging his arm. "Alright, alright. Let’s go before we get completely drenched."

Hinata huffed, pulling his hoodie up. But as the two of you started jogging toward his place, you couldn’t help but feel that same strange flutter in your chest from earlier. Because as silly and panicked as he got… he still wanted to take care of you.

By the time you reached Hinata’s place, you were both soaked. Your dress clung uncomfortably to your skin, and Hinata’s hoodie was drenched, his damp hair sticking to his forehead.

"Okay, yeah, this was a terrible idea," he admitted between breaths, shaking out his arms like a wet dog.

You laughed, hugging yourself for warmth. "I told you we should’ve just called a cab."

"Where’s the fun in that?" He grinned before stepping aside to let you in.

You walked through the hallway, the familiar scent of Hinata’s home wrapping around you like a nostalgic hug. It felt like stepping into the past, except… everything felt different now.

His bedroom door was slightly ajar, and you peeked inside.

It was almost exactly how you remembered it—volleyball posters, random clothes on the chair, and his bed a little messy but still welcoming. The only real difference was the trophies and medals on his shelf, a testament to how far he’d come.

As you stepped inside, your fingers ran over the edge of his desk, your mind lost in memories of all the times you had spent in this room, whether it was watching dumb videos, challenging each other to games, or just lying on the floor talking about your dreams.

Then—

"Boo!"

"AH!" You jumped, spinning around just as Hinata burst into laughter, clutching his stomach.

"Hinata, you idiot!" You smacked his arm, but he barely flinched, too busy laughing at your reaction."Sorry, sorry! I couldn’t resist!" He grinned, holding out a towel and some dry clothes—a worn T-shirt and a pair of shorts. "Here, you can change into these."

You grabbed them, still glaring. "I should make you suffer for that scare."

Hinata smirked. "Oh no, are you gonna steal my bed and make me sleep on the floor?"

"Tempting," you muttered, looking down at the clothes. His T-shirt looked big—big enough that it would probably hang loosely over you. "Guess I’ll be swimming in these."

Hinata chuckled. "Better than staying in that wet dress."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue, making your way to the bathroom. The second you shut the door, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

This felt… weird. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made your heart race a little too fast. You’d stayed over at Hinata’s plenty of times as kids, but this was different. You weren’t kids anymore.

As you changed in the bathroom, you realized with a sigh that your bra was just as drenched as your dress. There was no way you were putting it back on as it clung uncomfortably to your skin, cold and heavy with rain. You hesitated for a second before deciding to go without it, pulling on Hinata’s oversized t-shirt instead. The fabric was soft, slightly worn, and it smelled like him—fresh laundry mixed with something undeniably Hinata.You ran your fingers through your hair, trying to make yourself look somewhat presentable before stepping out.

When you stepped out, Hinata glanced up from where he was towel-drying his hair, and just like before, he froze. His brain short-circuited.

At first, he had just been prepared to tease you about how his clothes practically swallowed you whole. But then his gaze caught on the way the loose fabric draped over you, how it shifted with your movements, and...oh

You weren’t wearing a bra. The way the thin material did absolutely nothing to hide the erect peaks poking out from underneath, and the soft swell beneath it.

Hinata’s face went up in flames.

Oh. Oh.

He ripped his gaze away so fast he almost gave himself whiplash, suddenly finding the most fascinating spot on the floor to stare at. Don't look, don't look, don't look—

But it was too late. That single glance was already burned into his brain, and no amount of panicked mental screaming was going to erase it.

"N-nothing!" His voice cracked, and he gripped the towel in his hands like it was a lifeline. "You just—uh—you look comfortable!"

You smirked, completely oblivious to the absolute war happening in his head. "What, jealous that I pull off your clothes better than you do?"

Hinata let out the most unconvincing laugh of his life. "Y-yeah! I mean, no! No way!" He could feel his ears burning, and he desperately tried to focus on literally anything else. "S-so, uh, movie?"

You stretched your arms over your head with a yawn, completely unaware of how his eyes almost flickered down again before he clenched his jaw and forced himself to stare straight ahead.

"Yeah, sure," you said, flopping onto the couch beside him.

Hinata grabbed the remote, fingers fumbling as he picked the first thing that appeared on the screen. He had no idea what he just put on. It could’ve been a horror movie, a documentary, or a three-hour-long ad, and he wouldn’t have noticed.Because no matter how hard he tried, he could not stop thinking about the fact that you—his best friend—were sitting next to him, wearing his clothes, and making his heart race in a way that felt far too dangerous.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, Hinata—still reeling from his internal meltdown—mindlessly pressed play on whatever movie popped up first. Big mistake.

Because barely fifteen minutes in, the screen suddenly shifted to a scene that made both of you freeze.

Heavy breathing. Slow, lingering touches. Clothes slipping off way too easily.

Oh. Oh.

You choked on your own spit. "Hinata—"

Hinata, already red as a tomato, practically threw the remote in his panic, scrambling to grab it again. "I—I DIDN’T KNOW! I JUST CLICKED SOMETHING!"

You clapped a hand over your mouth, trying not to burst into nervous laughter. "Oh my god."

Hinata, on the other hand, looked like he was fighting for his life. He was stiff as a board, eyes darting anywhere but the screen. "I’ve never watched this with you before!" he blurted out, as if that somehow made this less mortifying.

You raised an eyebrow. "So, you’ve watched this alone?"

Hinata nearly died on the spot. "THAT'S NOT—!" He smacked the remote until the screen finally blessedly went black. Silence.

Then you lost it, bursting into laughter while Hinata groaned, burying his face in his hands. "This is the worst."

Still giggling, you leaned back against the couch, wiping a tear from your eye. "Oh my god, Sho, that was so bad."

Hinata groaned again, dragging his hands down his face. "I swear on volleyball, I didn’t mean to put that on."

You smirked, nudging his arm. "So you have watched that kinda stuff alone, huh?"

"STOP," he whined, throwing his head back dramatically. "I’m already suffering."

You couldn’t help but laugh at how flustered he was, cheeks still red, ears burning. You’d never seen him react like this before—it was… oddly cute.

After a moment, Hinata huffed, crossing his arms. "You didn’t exactly change the channel either, y'know."

Your face heated up. "HEY! I was shocked! I wasn’t expecting to see—" You clamped your mouth shut, shaking your head rapidly. "Nope. Not finishing that sentence."

Hinata snorted, finally cracking a grin. "Yeah, let’s just pretend that never happened."

You nodded. "Agreed. Now, please pick something safe. Like, a cartoon. Or a volleyball match. Something that won’t make us want to die."

Hinata grabbed the remote again, determined. "On it. No more accidental… that."

But as he scrolled through the options, a single, dangerous thought crossed his mind...Why was it so easy to picture watching something like that with you… and not just as a joke?

As Hinata scrolled through the movie options, his mind was still stuck on what had just happened. The sheer embarrassment of it. The way you had looked at him, teasing but also—maybe—just a little flustered too.

And then there was the part that was really messing with his head… the part where, for just a split second, he’d wondered what it would be like if—

Nope. Nope. Absolutely not going there.

But then, you stretched beside him, adjusting the oversized shirt you were wearing—his shirt—and the movement drew his eyes right to where the fabric clung to you. His throat went dry.

And as if the universe wanted to make things worse, you turned to him, tilting your head. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah!" His voice cracked, and he quickly looked away, staring so hard at the TV that he was surprised it didn’t catch fire.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. "You sure? You’re looking kinda nervous."

"N-no! I’m fine! Totally fine!" He forced a laugh, but the way his knee was bouncing gave him away completely.

You leaned in a little, resting your chin on your hand as you studied him. "Hmmm… is it ‘cause of that scene?" Hinata froze.

A slow, knowing smile spread across your lips. "Oh my god," you whispered, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Are you still thinking about it?"

"I—*NO!" he practically yelled, face burning hotter than the sun. "Why would I—?!"

You let out a low hum, clearly enjoying his reaction way too much. "I mean, I get it… it was a lot," you mused, voice just a bit too playful. "Not really something we’ve ever watched together before, huh?"

Hinata swallowed hard. "Nope! Definitely not!"

You traced random patterns on the couch, pretending to be lost in thought. "Kinda makes you wonder, though…"

His brain screeched to a halt. "*Wonder what?!*"

You grinned, leaning in a little closer, your voice dropping just enough to make his heart stutter. "What it’d be like to watch something like that… on purpose."

Hinata nearly died on the spot. His whole body tensed, his mind scrambling to process your words, but all he could come up with was pure, unfiltered panic.

"WHAT?!" His voice shot up so high it cracked, and he practically threw himself back against the couch as if that would somehow put distance between him and the very questionable situation unfolding.

You bit your lip, clearly enjoying every second of his meltdown. "What?" you teased, tilting your head. "Just saying…curiosity is normal, right?"

Hinata's brain was short-circuiting. His hands clenched into fists on his lap, his ears so hot they could probably fry an egg. "Curiosity—?!" He gulped, shaking his head furiously. "Nope! Nope! I refuse to be a part of whatever weird mind game this is!"

You just laughed, plopping back against the couch. "Relax, Sho. I’m just joking with you."

But that did not make him relax.

In fact, if anything, the damage was already done. Because now, no matter how hard he tried, his brain was not letting go of the thought. Watching something like that with you.On purpose. Or worse...you and him doing— no. Absolutely not.

Hinata swallowed thickly, shifting uncomfortably. He was so screwed.

You shifted closer, resting your chin on his shoulder, pretending like you weren’t feeling the heat creeping up your own neck. "Shoooo," you dragged out his name, voice laced with amusement. "Why are you so red?"

Hinata tensed like a live wire, jaw clenched, hands gripping his knees like they were the only things keeping him grounded. "I—I'm not!"

You let out a small hum, eyes flickering to the way his ears were practically glowing. "Liar," you whispered, your breath brushing against his skin. He jolted, his whole body stiffening like you’d electrocuted him.

You smirked. "Ohhh, you’re totally flustered!"

"No, I’m not!" Hinata shot back, turning to face you—big mistake. Because now, your faces were *way* closer than he expected, and for a split second, neither of you moved.

Your heart pounded. His eyes flickered down—to your lips, to the slight curve of your smirk—before snapping back up to meet your gaze.

Dangerous. Very dangerous.

And you did what any reasonable person would do when faced with this much tension. You attacked. Your fingers darted out, finding that one ticklish spot on his side, the one you knew would break him.

"AH—HEY!" Hinata practically yelped, twisting away, but you were relentless. You pushed forward, giggling as you dug your fingers into his ribs, his stomach, anywhere you could reach.

"Admit it!" you laughed. "You’re so flustered!"

"*N-nohoho—!*" Hinata was losing it, squirming as uncontrollable laughter bubbled out of him. "Stohop! It tickles"

"Never!"

He tried to escape, but you were quick, dodging his weak attempts to grab your hands. He was laughing too hard, his strength betraying him.

Then, suddenly—

Hinata snapped.

With a burst of energy, he lunged forward, grabbing your wrists and flipping the whole situation on you.

You let out a surprised gasp as your back hit the couch, Hinata looming over you, pinning your wrists above your head. His breathing was heavy, his hair slightly disheveled from all the movement.

And that wasn’t even the worst part.Your shirt had ridden up way more than either of you had realized in the chaos, exposing the smooth skin of your stomach, the subtle dip of your waist. His hands were still pinning yours above your head, but his eyes—traitorous, stupid eyes—lingered a second too long.

Too long to be normal. Too long to be ignored.

And you noticed.You sucked in a sharp breath, your chest rising and falling a little too quickly. "Shoyo…"

Wow...this took a while and it's not complete. Second part coming soon which is gonna be smut so mdni!

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Your Secret is Safe with me... With US....

Doohan Sister Reader F1 Driver Reader Cadillac Formula 1 Reader

Returning to the track the next day felt like a chore, each step heavier than the last. Today wasn’t about the race—it was about honoring my uncle in the only way I knew how.

A long time ago, he had given me a custom pin chain designed for the collar of a suit—something sleek, something personal. Silver, with two outstretched wings as the pins. I had never worn it at a race before, but today, it felt right.

So I dressed accordingly.

A black button-up shirt, the collar adorned with the silver chain and its delicate wing pins. Over it, a baggy leather jacket, only half-buttoned to let the chain glint under the paddock lights. Straight-legged black pants completed the look, along with my usual Nike high-tops—one of the few constants in my life.

I walked into the paddock in silence, the hum of conversation and laughter faltering as I passed. The atmosphere of this track was bright, electric, filled with vibrant colors from drivers wearing bold outfits to match the energy of the weekend. And then there was me—dressed in something more fitting for a funeral.

The moment the media caught sight of me, the chaos erupted. Cameras snapped in my direction, the clicking and flashing intensifying with every step. I didn’t flinch, didn’t stop. Normally, I would have. Normally, I would have given them something, even if just a glance. But not today.

I could already see the headlines forming in their heads. They would twist this against me, paint me as distant, unapproachable, brooding. But I couldn’t bring myself to care. Not today.

Interacting with fans and media would only make it worse. I didn’t trust myself to keep up the act—to hide the weight pressing against my ribs, the ache sitting heavy in my throat.

By the time I reached the Cadillac garage, the usual hum of chatter inside had quieted. Mechanics and engineers paused mid-task, eyes flickering to me before quickly looking away. The concern was evident, but I ignored it, making a beeline for the one person I trusted most here.

Nico was waiting for me in my usual corner of the garage. The moment our eyes met, he gave me a sad smile, understanding without needing to ask.

"Hey, Ghost," he said gently. "I know today’s gonna be tough. Do you need anything from me?"

I nodded, my voice carefully neutral. I had been fighting the burn in my chest all day—I wouldn’t let it consume me here. Not now.

"Yeah. If you can find a way to minimize my media duties after the race, that would be great. I can do them, but… I don’t know how long I’ll last before I break."

Nico didn’t hesitate. "I’ll see what I can do, bud." He placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, a silent promise. "For now, take whatever time you need before the drivers’ parade."

I gave him a curt nod before turning on my heel. I could have gone to my driver’s room, locked myself away from the world. But something about the heat of the sun pressing against my black clothing felt grounding.

So instead, I walked.

Down the pit lane, where the media weren’t allowed, where I could breathe without feeling the weight of a hundred lenses on my back.

At least for a moment.

When it was time for the drivers' parade, I stayed in the back of the room, away from where the others had gathered. The air buzzed with conversation, laughter, and the usual pre-race energy, but I remained silent, still.

Any other day, I might have felt a pang of hurt at how easily silence made me invisible. How quickly I could fade into the background when I wasn’t cracking a joke or joining in on the pre-race banter.

But today, I was grateful for it.

Grateful to be overlooked.

At least, until I wasn’t.

Two sets of eyes found me, locking onto me like twin beacons through the haze of chatter.

I didn’t need to see their faces to know who they belonged to.

Both boys peeled away from their own groups without a word, their movements quiet but deliberate. When they reached me, stopping just two feet away, the energy between us shifted.

Their expressions, once lighthearted and carefree, had darkened—concern replacing whatever pre-race excitement had been there moments before.

Neither of them spoke right away.

They just stood there, looking between me and each other, waiting.

Waiting for me to let them in.

Oscar looked like he wanted to say something, but the moment was cut short. The call to head onto the trailer came, and like a machine set on autopilot, I fell into line with the other drivers.

I barely noticed that Lando and Oscar had taken up position on either side of me until Lando nudged my arm lightly.

“Alright, Ghost,” he said, his voice casual but playful, “I know you’re not much of a talker, but this is ridiculous. You’re usually at least pretending to enjoy this part.”

I blinked, forcing myself to focus as the three of us stepped onto the trailer.

Oscar leaned in slightly. “I was gonna say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this quiet. Are you conserving energy or just silently plotting something?”

Lando gasped dramatically. “Oh no, don’t tell me you’ve finally given in to your dark side. You’re planning world domination, aren’t you?”

I let out a slow breath, pressing my lips together to keep from smiling.

“Damn, he’s not denying it,” Oscar said, eyes widening in mock horror. “It’s over for us.”

Lando placed a hand over his chest. “We had a good run, mate. At least we’ll go out knowing we were kind of the fastest here.”

I exhaled through my nose, shaking my head slightly. They weren’t being pushy, weren’t demanding answers—they were just being themselves, trying to pull me back into reality.

“I hate to break it to you,” I said, voice quiet but even, “but if I wanted world domination, you two wouldn’t be my first recruits.”

Lando gasped again. “I’m offended. We’d make an excellent evil trio.”

Oscar crossed his arms. “Yeah, you’d need at least one of us for planning and the other for distracting.”

I huffed a small laugh despite myself.

Lando grinned like he had just won something. “There he is.”

Oscar nudged me lightly with his elbow. “Alright, now that we’ve got you talking, tell us—what’s with the dark-esk outfit? Did you finally snap and we are seeing a revenge arc?”

I stiffened for half a second before forcing myself to relax, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets. “Not really.”

Oscar and Lando exchanged glances, sensing something but wisely not pushing further.

“Noted,” Oscar said, shifting the topic. “Well, just so you know, Lando here has already almost fallen off one of these things before. So if he suddenly disappears mid-parade, don’t be alarmed.”

“Hey,” Lando protested. “That was one time.”

Oscar smirked. “One time that we know of.”

This time, I didn’t have to hold back the laugh. It was small, barely there, but real.

And for a moment, just a moment, the weight pressing down on my chest felt a little lighter.

By the time the parade had ended, just about every rookie had taken a moment to try and lift my spirits. They offered small jokes, lighthearted banter, and reassuring pats on the back, all assuming that the brutal criticism and the weight of the weekend had worn me down. But none of them—none—truly knew the ache my heart was trying to mend, only for it to tear open again with every quiet second I was left alone with my thoughts.

The only one who didn’t come near me was Jack. And maybe that was for the best.

How was I supposed to look him in the eye, knowing that the same grief that had shattered me was clawing at him, too? How could I lie to him, pretend I was upset from media critics, when we were both drowning in the same loss?

I couldn’t. I knew that.

So the moment the trailer came to a stop, I was the first to step off, weaving through the bustling paddock with only one thought in mind—get back to my driver’s room before the walls I had barely managed to keep standing finally collapsed.

The second I shut the door behind me, my chest caved, and I sucked in the first deep breath I had taken all day. It was shaky, unsteady, as if my lungs themselves rejected the idea of calm. But I needed to regain control. I needed to silence the storm in my head. I needed to go numb before the race.

I pulled out my phone, scrolling mindlessly through my playlists before my fingers hesitated over one I hadn’t touched in years. Indycar Rage+Ruin.

I pressed play.

The soft strum of a guitar hummed through the speakers, and immediately, my throat tightened. My uncle and I had made this playlist together during my first year in IndyCar. It had been our escape, the one thing that always seemed to drown out the noise of the world. He had built my music taste, shaped the songs I clung to in my hardest moments. This playlist, though—it was filled with his recommendations. Every song carefully chosen, meant to guide me through anger and exhaustion, to remind me of my worth when the world told me otherwise.

Back then, when I was ridiculed for being too young, too inexperienced, too different, he sat me down, placed an earbud in my hand, and said, "Let the music turn their doubt into your fuel. Show them what I already know you can do."

Tears burned in my eyes as the memories swelled, raw and vivid. His voice. His laugh. The way he always believed in me when no one else did.

I pulled off my helmet, my hands trembling as I changed into my fireproofs. But when I picked my helmet back up, my breath hitched.

It was another piece of him.

I ran my fingers over the design, tracing the lines and colors that hadn’t existed until he convinced me to take a risk. I had wanted to keep my old one—stick with something familiar. But he had pushed me to evolve. To make it mine. To leave the past in the past, to move towards my future, to the day I finally showed my truth to the whole world. 

So I had. Every stroke, every detail, had come from his suggestions.

I swallowed the sob creeping up my throat, forcing my emotions into the deepest corner of my mind. I couldn’t break here. Not now.

I wiped the last of my tears away, pulling my balaclava over my face and securing my helmet in place.

This is for you.

And with that, I stepped out, ready to race.

—

Lap 26.

P8.

I should be fighting. I should be pushing harder, clawing my way back up the field. But all I could do was exist in the seat, my body moving through the motions like a machine while my mind drifted elsewhere.

The world outside my cockpit blurred into streaks of color—flashes of the crowd, pit boards, and curbs passing by without meaning. The radio crackled in my ear with strategy calls, updates on gaps and tire wear, but they barely registered.

Numb.

That’s all I felt.

The weight of grief had settled into my bones, anchoring me to a darkness I couldn’t shake. Every turn, every straight, every second that passed only reminded me of the gaping hole in my chest.

My uncle should have been here.

He should have been watching from the garage, pacing back and forth with that nervous excitement he always had whenever I raced. He should have been waiting for me at the end of this, ready to pull me into one of his crushing hugs and tell me exactly what I did right, no matter the result.

But he wasn’t.

He never would be again.

I clenched my jaw, my grip tightening on the wheel. The ache inside me grew stronger, heavier, suffocating.

Then, without warning—

"You know why people look for flaws in you?"

A voice.

His voice.

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. But at that moment, it didn’t matter. It was as if he was right there beside me, speaking through the static of my own thoughts, cutting through the numbness with words I had heard before.

"It’s because they see something in you that terrifies them. You’re not just another driver. You’re proof that the future doesn’t belong to the same old faces they’re used to. You prove them wrong every damn time you put your hands on that wheel."

I sucked in a sharp breath, my vision focusing again on the track ahead.

"They will always find something to pick apart. They will say you’re too young, too reckless, too emotional. But that’s just what people do when they can’t deny talent anymore. When they know that talent is going to change everything."

A lump rose in my throat.

"I know you, kid. I know you better than anyone. You’re strong, you’re relentless, and you are more talented than you even realize. I can’t have kids, but from the moment I put you back in that kart and saw that fire in your eyes, I knew—I didn’t need to. You were mine. You are mine. My kid, my racer, my pride."

Tears welled up, blurring my vision for a split second before I blinked them away.

"I love you like a father loves his daughter, and I will always, always be with you. My sister has no idea the daughter she lost that day, but I know the one I gained. So show me, kid. Show me just how amazing of a daughter I got."

The numbness cracked.

Then shattered.

A fire erupted inside my chest, spreading through every inch of my body. My grip on the wheel tightened—not from despair, but from purpose. My uncle’s words weren’t just a memory; they were fuel, reigniting the part of me that had been drowning all day.

I would not let this race slip away.

I would not let grief steal this from me.

I would honor him the only way I knew how—by fighting with everything I had.

"Let’s go hunting." I growled into the radio.

The response was instant. I could almost hear the sudden excitement in Diego’s voice.

"Copy, let’s get it."

Lap 27.

I launched into attack mode.

The first victim—P7. I lined up the move through Turn 3, positioning myself perfectly for the switchback out of Turn 4. Late on the throttle, I powered past, slicing ahead just before the braking zone into Turn 5.

One down.

Lap 30.

P6 was trickier. They defended hard, forcing me to back off twice. But they were draining their tires with every aggressive move, and I was patient. Into Turn 12, I dummied left before diving right, catching them off guard. My front wing edged past their rear tire—just enough. I held my breath, committed, and sent it.

They locked up. I didn’t.

P6 was mine.

Lap 34.

P5 and P4 were in a battle ahead, slowing each other down. I used it. A perfect slipstream down the main straight, and with DRS wide open, I took them both into Turn 1 in a double overtake that had my heart hammering inside my chest.

Lap 39.

P3.

Only two cars stood between me and the top step of the podium. My tires were screaming, my body was running on adrenaline alone, but I refused to lift.

Lap 42.

P2.

A lunge down the inside of Turn 10. No hesitation. No second thoughts. It stuck.

Final lap.

The leader was just ahead, but I was closing. DRS on the back straight. Slipstream. My pulse thundered in my ears.

Turn 14—late braking. Aggressive entry. I forced them wide.

Turn 15—I pulled ahead.

Final corner.

I could see the finish line.

This is for you.

I floored it.

The checkered flag waved.

I crossed the line.

P1.

I won.

A cheer ripped from my throat as I screamed into the radio. The team’s voices roared back at me, their cheers barely audible over the pounding of my heartbeat.

I slowed the car, my hands shaking, my breath coming in uneven gasps as reality crashed into me. Unbeknownst to me, My sobs being played over the live broadcast, something that could come back to bite me in the ass. But I no longer would care. 

I had done it.

I had honored him.

Slowly, I rolled to a stop in parc fermé, the engine ticking as it cooled behind me. My chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, my hands still gripping the wheel as my body trembled with adrenaline, exhaustion, and something much deeper—something far heavier.

I had won.

But he wasn’t here to see it.

The roar of the crowd echoed around me, but it felt distant, almost muffled. Right now, the visor had become my barrier from showing the emotions racking my mind. That barrier felt like the only thing holding me together.

With slow, deliberate movements, I unstrapped my belts and climbed out of the car. The moment my feet hit the Halo, I stayed there, standing tall atop my machine.

Then, I placed my hand over my heart.

And I pointed to the sky.

My head stayed bowed, my gaze locked onto the carbon fiber beneath me. It wasn’t a grand gesture, it wasn't a show for the cameras or the fans—it was just for him. A silent message. A promise.

This win is yours, too.

The moment passed, and I finally stepped down from the car. The second my feet hit the ground, I turned toward the barrier, toward my team waiting on the other side.

They were already there, arms outstretched, shouting my name.

I barely made it two steps away before they pulled me in, wrapping me in a massive hug, their cheers filling the air around me. The warmth of their embrace, their unfiltered joy—it should have grounded me, should have held me together.

But as I let myself sink into them, the weight of everything crashed down all at once.

My breath hitched. My chest tightened.

I wasn’t ready to break here. Not in front of them.

Slipping away from the group, I ducked my head and moved quickly, weaving through the celebration before anyone could notice. I needed a moment. Just one.

By the time I reached my driver’s room, I barely had the door closed before my legs gave out. I sank onto the small couch, my hands trembling as I ripped off my gloves, pulled off the helmet and balaclava before I pressed my palms over my face.

A shuddering breath. Then another.

And then, finally, the dam broke.

Silent sobs wracked through me, my body shaking from the force of them. The grief, the joy, the pain—all of it collided in a way that stole the air from my lungs.

I had won.

I had done exactly what he always believed I could do.

But it would never be enough to bring him back.

And God, how I wished he was here.

Suddenly, I heard yelling from outside my door.

"You can’t go in yet!"

The warning reached my ears too late.

The door swung open before I could react—before I could pull my helmet back on, before I could even turn away.

Three pairs of eyes locked onto my tear filled ones.

Fuck.

Instinct took over. More voices echoed down the hall, growing closer. I didn’t think—I just moved.

Grabbing all three of them, I yanked them inside and slammed the door shut, twisting the lock into place.

Silence.

Only the sound of my own breathing filled the room, ragged and uneven. My heart pounded as reality sank in.

The gig was up.

There was no covering this up, no half-baked excuse that would save me now. They had seen me. Really seen me.

I dropped my head against the door with a quiet thud, the dull ache grounding me in the moment. A long sigh escaped me.

Shit.

I finally turned around, bracing myself.

Lando and Oscar were still frozen, their faces caught somewhere between shock and disbelief. Lando’s mouth hung slightly open, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Oscar just blinked, like his brain was still buffering.

But Franco—he looked different. His expression wasn’t one of shock, but something else. Guilt.

That’s when the dots connected.

Franco had been acting differently ever since the day my uncle passed. Ever since the moment I broke down in Nico’s arms. But… the door had been shut, right? No. It hadn’t. He must have seen me.

My breath hitched as I locked eyes with him, and in that instant, I knew. He didn’t say a word, but his gaze told me everything. He had known—maybe not the full truth, but enough to suspect. Enough to treat me differently ever since.

“This whole time…”

Lando’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts, calm but laced with something unreadable. My head snapped toward him, bracing for the inevitable backlash, the betrayal, the anger. But it never came.

Instead, the shock on his face melted into something else—wonder, maybe even admiration. Beside him, Oscar’s expression shifted in the same way, the disbelief settling but not turning to resentment.

“You’re actually a girl?” Oscar blurted, blinking rapidly. “This whole time we’ve been calling you a dude?”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, a small smile tugging at my lips. I nodded.

Lando let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Well, I guess the voice changer actually makes sense now. I thought maybe you were just embarrassed about your voice or something stupid like that.”

Oscar grinned. “Yeah, I figured it was just part of the whole mysterious Ghost persona thing. But damn—this is next level.”

Their easy acceptance caught me off guard. I had prepared for anger, disappointment, maybe even disgust. But this? This felt… light.

“I honestly wasn’t expecting this reaction,” I admitted, my voice softer than before. “I thought there’d be a lot more anger. Or, I don’t know… disgust.”

That wiped the smiles off their faces instantly.

“What? No!” Lando exclaimed, his brows furrowing.

“Why would we think that?” Oscar asked, genuine confusion in his tone.

I hesitated before answering. “Because I’m a girl. Or maybe because I chose to hide my identity instead of fighting my way into the sport the ‘right’ way.”

Lando let out a short chuckle, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Right way? What even is the right way? Every girl in motorsport has to jump through hoops just to get a fraction of the chances we get.” His gaze softened. “If anything, you found the only real way to prove the facts over the ideals—you proved you belonged before anyone had the chance to doubt you.”

Oscar nodded, crossing his arms. “Think about it. You’ve spent the last five years proving a girl can race with the best of the best. The only difference is that you were given a fair shot—without prejudice clouding people's judgment from the start.” He tilted his head, a sly grin forming. “Just imagine the absolute meltdown the anti-female racing fans are gonna have when you reveal yourself. You’re about to shatter every argument they’ve ever had in real time.”

My heart swelled, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through my chest. For the first time in years, I felt like I could breathe.

They didn’t just accept me.

They believed in me.

Franco finally spoke, his voice quieter than usual but steady.

"They are right," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "When I found out yesterday,"

My stomach twisted as he confirmed my suspicions.

"The door wasn’t all the way shut. I was walking past when I heard you sobbing, and before I could even process it, I saw Nico holding you. And… I saw you—not Ghost, not the masked driver everyone argued over—but you."

He let out a slow breath, like he had been holding it in for months. "At first, I didn’t know what to think. I mean, I had hunches that something was off—sometimes your mannerisms didn’t match up, your reactions felt… different from what I expected—but I never thought this was the truth. And when I did realize? Everything just… shifted."

I stiffened slightly, but his expression wasn’t one of judgment—it was one of understanding.

"I saw the way you carried yourself, how you fought for every inch in this sport, how you refused to back down even when the entire world was tearing you apart over baseless rumors. And then it hit me—" He shook his head, his voice growing more certain. "—if you had never hidden your identity, if they had known you were a girl from the start, you wouldn’t have even made it to IndyCar, let alone past it. You would’ve been written off, ridiculed, shoved into a marketing stunt instead of given a real seat."

I swallowed hard, because he was right. I had known it. But hearing someone else say it out loud? It made my chest tighten.

Franco ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "And that’s what pissed me off the most—realizing that you had to do this. That you had no choice but to race under a mask just to prove you belonged. And even then, people still found ways to tear you down." His jaw clenched. "It made me sick. That’s why I started acting different—I wasn’t mad at you, I was mad at the system that forced you to do this in the first place."

Silence hung in the air between us.

I had spent years preparing for this moment, expecting rejection, expecting people to be angry with me for lying. But instead, all I was met with was understanding.

A lump formed in my throat, and I had to blink hard to keep my emotions in check.

Lando let out a deep breath. "Damn… that’s actually insane when you think about it."

Oscar crossed his arms. "Yeah, it’s fucking bullshit is what it is."

Franco looked at me then, something unreadable in his eyes. "But you made it anyway." His lips quirked up in a small, almost proud smile. "You proved you belonged—without sponsors forcing a diversity hire, without a team trying to sell you as the next big ‘female trailblazer’ before you even turned a wheel. You earned this. And now that you’re here? No one can take that away from you."

Something in me cracked at those words.

For so long, I had braced myself for this truth to destroy everything I had built. But instead, these three—these friends—were standing beside me, not tearing me down but lifting me up.

For the first time in years, I wasn’t Ghost.

I was just me.

I took a slow, shaky breath.

“If I tell you the full truth… will you promise me something?” My voice was quieter now, uncertain.

Lando, Oscar, and Franco exchanged glances before nodding.

“Of course,” Lando said.

“Anything,” Oscar added.

Franco just gave me a firm look, waiting.

I hesitated, but I couldn’t stop now. The weight of the secret was pressing down on me, and for the first time in years, I wasn’t carrying it alone.

“I didn’t start hiding my identity because I wanted to,” I admitted. “It wasn’t some big strategy or grand plan. I did it because it was the only way I was ever going to race.”

Their brows furrowed, curiosity flickering in their eyes.

“My parents… they never wanted me to be a driver.” The bitterness in my tone was undeniable. “Jack? He got everything. He was the future of our family in racing. My parents invested everything into him, his training, his career. But me? I was their daughter. That meant a different future—one where I was supposed to be proper, ladylike, anything but a racer.”

Oscar’s mouth parted slightly in shock. Lando looked outright offended.

“But… then how did you start racing?” Franco asked, confusion laced in his voice.

A small, sad smile pulled at my lips. “My uncle. He helped me. He was the only one who saw how much I loved it—how much I needed it. He taught me behind my parents’ backs, found ways to get me into karting under a fake name. He made sure I had a shot.”

I swallowed hard.

“They never knew. Not my parents. Not Jack. And as I got older, the lie became my only way forward. The mask… it became necessary. If they found out, it would’ve been over before I even had a chance.”

Silence filled the room, the weight of my words settling in.

“I watched so many other girls get stuck,” I continued, my voice dropping to almost a whisper. “They had the talent. They worked just as hard, if not harder. But they were always seen as ‘a risk,’ as ‘a marketing opportunity’ instead of real drivers. Meanwhile, I just kept moving up—because they didn’t know. Because I was a mystery they could project their own expectations onto.”

I let out a humorless chuckle.

“And now? This is all I know. I don’t know how to race any other way. If I take the mask off now, everything changes. I change.”

I met their eyes then, desperation creeping into my tone.

“That’s why I need you to promise me. Please. Keep pretending you don’t know. Keep using male pronouns. Keep the secret alive—just a little longer.”

I could see the emotions warring in their expressions—concern, understanding, frustration at the reality of it all.

Then, Lando let out a long breath, shaking his head in disbelief before cracking a small, lopsided smile.

“This is fucking mental,” he muttered.

Oscar nudged him. “Lando.”

“What? It is! But…” He looked back at me, something more serious in his gaze now. “I get it.”

Oscar nodded. “Me too. It’s not fair, but if this is what you need… we’ve got your back.”

Franco was the last to speak, his expression unreadable. But then, he gave a single nod.

“We’ll keep the secret. No one’s gonna hear it from us.”

Relief flooded through me so fast I almost felt lightheaded.

"Thank you," I whispered, meaning it more than I ever had before.

Lando let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. "You know, we originally came in here to congratulate you on your first goddamn F1 win, but somehow, we ended up in a full-blown identity reveal."

Oscar snorted. "Yeah, this was not on my bingo card for today."

Franco shook his head with an exasperated laugh. "You literally won your first race, and instead of celebrating, we get emotional in your dressing room and drop the biggest plot twist of the season."

I couldn't help but chuckle at that, the tension in the air finally easing. "I mean… if it makes you feel any better, I also wasn’t expecting this to happen today."

Lando threw his arms up. "Oh, fantastic! That makes it so much better."

Oscar patted his shoulder. "Deep breaths, mate."

Lando shot him a glare. "I have been breathing, thank you very much."

"Could've fooled me."

"Shut up, P5."

Oscar smirked. "P5? Mate, you're acting like you didn't just get your ass handed to you by the ‘rookie’ we all thought was a guy five minutes ago."

Lando groaned dramatically. "And now that's gonna haunt me for the rest of my life."

Franco clapped his hands together. "Alright, as fun as this little existential crisis is, we have an awards ceremony to get to before the FIA starts hunting us down."

My eyes widened. "Shit, you're right." I rushed over to grab my helmet, shoving it back on my head before anyone else could see my face. The visor clicked into place, securing the secret once again.

Lando waggled his eyebrows. "So mysterious."

I smacked his arm.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"For being you."

"Wow. Rude."

Oscar sighed, already heading toward the door. "Can we please move this along? I'd like to see secret history being made sometime today."

Franco pulled the door open, peeking outside to make sure the coast was clear before gesturing for us to follow.

As we stepped out, Lando leaned in toward me. "Just so you know, Max is gonna be so pissed he lost to a literal ghost driver."I smirked under my helmet. "Then let’s not keep him waiting."

Taglist: @widow-cevans @honethatty12 @wierdflowerpower @imlonelydontsendhelp @thatsnotaddy

[mggslover]

Angel

In which Spencer sees his girlfriend fresh out of the shower for the first time, you looked angelic, and he was about to ruin you.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Girlfriend!reader Genre: smut (18+) Content warnings: spencer being horny, reader wears glasses, teasing, fingering, some spanking, p in v sex, facial, soft!dom spencer Word count: 3,8k A/n: this was supposed to be a short, smut no plot fic, but I got a little carried away...

The familiar goodbyes and sorrys were exchanged as you hung up the phone.

What was meant to be a romantic date out of town with your boyfriend had quickly turned into another one of those last-minute cancellations. It wasn’t surprising—Spencer’s work as a profiler came with its own set of unpredictable demands, and you were used to him being pulled away at a moment’s notice. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. You’d been looking forward to spending some time together.

You’d been dating Spencer for about three months, and things had progressed naturally from casual coffee dates to longer dinners and, eventually, a few trips to his place afterwards. As much as you enjoyed those nights, you wished they would last longer. You and Spencer made a habit out of quickies, knowing that at any moment his phone would inevitably buzz with a message or call from his colleague, Garcia. You couldn’t blame him for leaving, serial killers unfortunately didn’t work a nine to five. Spencer hated leaving you as well, making sure he offered you enough apologetic kisses and promises that he’d be back as soon as he could.

He always insisted that you could stay over at his place until he’d be back, but you never felt comfortable enough to do so. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy being at his place—you could already picture yourself curled up on the couch with one of his books, or take advantage of his bed, which was a lot bigger and more comfortable than yours. But it wasn’t quite home yet, at least not without him there.

With a resigned sigh, you decided to make the best out of the situation. It had been a long week, and you could use a night of self-care. As you set your phone down on the bathroom counter, you hit play on a playlist you’d made for such occasions—soft, calming melodies that would help you unwind. You pulled your hair back with a headband, took out your contacts, and started removing the makeup that took you half an hour to do earlier.

The bathroom mirror fogged slightly as the warmth of the shower filled the room. You hummed along with the song in the background, while you moved the cotton pads over your skin in a familiar motion.

As you finished, you carefully stepped out of your dress and turned toward the shower. The steam hit your skin as you slid into the stall, closing your eyes for a moment as the water hit your shoulders.

Without realizing, you spent a good hour in the shower. Once comfortably dressed, you let yourself sink into the plush cushions of your couch. A fuzzy blanket was draped across your just shaved legs, and the TV remote was within arm’s reach. You let out a content sigh, almost feeling as satisfied as you would be when being with Spencer.

—

Spencer’s signature melody of knocks broke your focus on the documentary you were watching. You swiftly moved up from the couch and checked the peephole on your door, just to be sure. A smile spread across your face as you saw Spencer rocking back and forth on his feet, plucking at the bouquet in his hands, straightening out each flower to perfection.

You opened the door with a big smile. “Hi, I wasn’t expecting you. I thought we cancelled tonight.”

He hesitates, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. “You’re right. I finished the case early, and I’ve been thinking about you all day. I just… wanted to see you.” His words came out more nervously than he intended. “I saw the lights were on, so I assumed you were awake.”

“I wasn’t asleep. Don’t worry,” you answered warmly. You glanced down at the bouquet in his hands. “Are these for me?”

“They are,” he replies, his voice softened as he handed them to you. “You said you liked lilies.”

“I do, thank you. They’re beautiful.” You accept the bouquet, moving to your tiptoes to give him a kiss. Having a boyfriend with an eidetic memory really is perfect.

“I’ll put them in water, come in.”

You moved to the open kitchen, so in awe of his sweet gesture that you were completely unaware of the way Spencer’s breath caught the moment you opened the door, how his pupils darkened when he inhaled your sweet scent and noticed the state you were in. Hair still damp from the shower you must’ve taken, wearing only a shirt, and your face bare besides the glasses you were wearing. Fuck… he didn’t even know you wore glasses.

He couldn’t deny how incredibly cute you looked. Spencer has only seen you during or after dates, and he loved how he could tell that you took the time to get yourself ready. Always wearing an outfit that fits you perfectly and having your makeup done in a way that enhances the features of your face. But it felt so intimate seeing how effortlessly beautiful you looked moving around in the comfort of your own home. You were beautiful in a way that seemed almost unfair, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the most captivating version of you he'd ever seen.

Spencer wasn’t able to take his eyes off of you as you walked to the kitchen, your breasts swaying with every step you took. The outline of your nipples were visible, because of the cold that escaped when you opened the door for him. Your bare legs reflected the warm kitchen light. He felt like he was about to lose his mind as you reached up to grab a vase from the top cabinet, the curve of your ass peeking out from underneath the shirt that you're wearing.

He felt guilty for the warmth that was spreading through him. He shook his head slightly, trying to reset his thoughts, but the temptation was there. Your easy grace, the way your bare feet padded across the floor, the gentle hum of the air between you—it all combined into something too alluring for him to ignore.

You could feel the heat radiating off of him as he moved behind you, placing a careful hand on your hip as he reached out to grab the vase. You turned around with a smile as he placed the vase on the kitchen counter.

“Thanks,” you beamed, and he mumbled a ‘You’re welcome’, though his response came out as more of a soft hum.

Before he could think better of it, he leaned down and kissed you. The kiss was slow, deliberate—his lips meeting yours with a tenderness that made his pulse race. His fingers tingle with the desire to pull you closer, but just before his hands slid around you, you pulled away, making him swallow back a groan.

“Ooh! I was watching this documentary that I think you’ll be really into,” you said, quickly putting the flowers in the vase and tugging him by the hand toward the couch. He followed like a stray pup, too caught up in the way you moved to protest.

“Oh, yeah? What’s it about?” He asked, hoping the conversation would steer him away from the other thoughts tugging at him. You settled on the couch beside him, and he instinctively pulled your legs onto his lap, cupping your feet in his hands to warm them.

“It’s about space. The universe, really. It’s fascinating, but honestly terrifying if you think about it for too long.”

Spencer nodded, though his mind was far away. He was more focused on the way that his fingers traced the soft lines of your calves. He gently started kneading the muscles, placing just the right amount of pressure.

“Would you go to space, if NASA invited you?” You asked, eyes still glued to the TV.

“Only if you’d come with me.”

His response made you turn around to look at him. The sincere and loving expression he gave you warmed your face. He squeezed your legs gently, and, just like that, you noticed the hint of desire hidden in his eyes.

“Come here,” he said in a whisper, patting his thigh. In a second you managed to crawl yourself onto his lap, and he held you steady by your hips.

You reached up to remove your glasses, but before your fingers could touch the frames, his hand found yours, halting the movement.

You noticed the slight squint in his eyes. “I can’t properly kiss you with my glasses on,” you explain.

"Then let me handle the kissing," he murmured, voice dropped low.

Before you could register his words, his lips had found your neck. His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing along the line of your jaw, holding you close as his tongue licked a firm stripe up your sensitive skin.

“Oh, god,” you shuddered in a breath.

“Shaking already?” he teased, voice laced with amusement as he grinned against your skin.

“No,” you lied.

“Are you sure about that? Then why are you doing it again?” He comments before squeezing your breast, your nipple caught in between his long fingers.

You jumped at his touch, a moan escaping your lips. You shook your head as you saw his satisfied expression. “You’re such a dirty tease.”

“I haven’t heard any complaints so far,” he smirks, making you roll your eyes.

His breath was warm against your skin as his lips found their way back to the soft curve of your neck. Slowly, with a tenderness that sent a shiver through your body, he placed several more kisses to your skin. Once pleased, he bends his head down to capture your clothed nipple in his mouth, his hand still kneading your other breast.

“Fuck, Spence,” you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders to steady yourself. He took his time, his mouth sucking slowly on your nub, savoring the feel of you beneath him. Tonight, he was in no rush—he wanted to taste every inch of you, show you just how much he loves every detail of your body.

You were writhing in his lap as he flicked his tongue against your nipple. Heat forming between your thighs with every stroke of his tongue. He removed his lips from your breast with a pop, and sat back against the couch. His gaze was locked on the now wet, see-through patch on your shirt. He licked his lips, watching you like you were a piece of art he just created himself.

“Beautiful,” he stated.

The compliment sent a rush of warmth straight to your core, your body responding with a soft shiver. Without thinking, you began to grind yourself against his lap, a surge of excitement rushing through you as you felt the firm bulge beneath his pants. Spencer exhaled a deep, satisfied sigh, his warm hands slipping beneath your shirt as he cupped your breasts, squeezing them gently.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” he said, his gaze lingering on you.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Oh, so that’s what this is all about, huh?”

His expression softened, “Actually, it’s about all of you.” The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, turning you almost shy.

“Can I take this off?” he murmured, his fingers teasing the hem of your shirt. You nodded wordlessly and raised your arms. Spencer pulled the fabric over your head, his eyes tracing the curve of your bare chest. He cursed under his breath, his hands immediately finding you—fingers digging into your skin as he leaned in, nuzzling his face between your tits with a satisfied moan.

A string of giggles and moans spilled from your lips as his curls tickled your skin. His pink lips grazed you gently, pausing to leave sloppy, lingering marks—each one a reminder that you’d carry with you for the following days.

You moved against him, rolling your hips, finding release in the way that your barely covered heat rubbed against the rough material of his pants. Spencer noticed the change in your rhythm, the need in your movements. He guided you with steady hands, his fingers moving to your hips and then sliding lower, finding the curve of your ass, tightening his grip to help you find the pace you craved.

“Can you handle more?” His voice was laced with desire. Without hesitation, you nodded, your body already screaming for more. His long fingers traced your inner thighs, goosebumps forming on your skin, his touch light but electrifying. When his thumb pressed against your covered clit, a jolt of heat shot through you, making you squirm helplessly. You moaned, your body arching toward him.

“You’re always so wet for me, angel.” The word slipped from Spencer's lips. It was the first time he’d called you anything other than your name or a shortened version of it, and somehow, angel felt more fitting than any word he'd ever used. You looked like heaven to him—your soft skin glowing in the light, your eyes sparkling behind the frames of your glasses, and the way you responded to his touch, every small brush of his fingers making your expressions change so delicately.

He slowly tugged the damp fabric of your underwear to the side, savoring the reveal of your glistening pussy. You lifted your hips, giving Spencer the access to slide a finger through your folds, spreading your wetness.

“Feels good,” you breathed out, your voice shaky as his fingers ran back and forth between your lips, each pass teasingly close to your entrance, but never quite slipping inside. The sensation made your hips buck against him. You weren’t used to being teased for this long—Spencer had a way of getting you dripping without even fully touching you. Usually that led straight to sex, which makes his slow touches feel almost torturous.

“Please, Spence,” you moaned.

“Please, what?” he mused, his eyes dark with desire as he watched how your arousal coated his fingers, his gaze never leaving your glistenings folds.

“I need more,” you begged, your voice a whimper.

“You can have more, angel. My fingers are right here,” he hummed.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you shifted, positioning yourself so his fingers were just below your entrance. Spencer’s breath hitched, and his mouth fell open as you sank down onto his fingers, inch by inch, taking him in. Your hand gripped his shoulder tightly for support as you moved, the sensation of fullness making your body tremble.

Spencer was the first to make a sound, his head falling back slightly as you adjusted to him. His moans only spurred you on. You pressed your forehead against his, your breaths shaky as he pumped his fingers in a steady, insistent rhythm.

His other hand moved to your ass, fingers spreading across your cheek as he squeezed, pulling you closer to him. You were grateful he was doing most of the work—your legs were already shaking, straining to keep up with the building pleasure.

Spencer’s fingers curled inside you, pressing deeper, and the angle was perfect—hitting spots you never managed to reach on your own. Spencer groaned at the sight. Your body was tightening around him, your slickness coating his fingers, and he couldn’t help but imagine it being his cock filling you up.

The sounds he made drove you crazy. Each deep groan, every stuttered breath, showed you how much he enjoyed making you feel good. His enjoyment only intensified your own pleasure.

You were so close, your nipples hard against his chest, your breath mixing with his as your hair tumbled over his face, the scent of it intoxicating to him.

Your breathing quickened, sharp and shallow, as the pressure built within you, pooling low in your belly. Your vision blurred, the edges of reality dissolving as you neared the brink of your climax.

“Baby…” you breathed, your voice a desperate whisper, barely more than a plea. You locked your eyes with Spencer, hoping—praying—he could see the need in yours, feel the frantic urgency building inside you.

And then, with a nod and a final twist of his fingers, you broke.

A flood of pleasure crashed through you. You gasped, your whole body seizing as your orgasm hit, sending shockwaves of heat through every inch of you. You cried out, unable to hold back the sounds of your release, your hips bucking against his touch, your hands gripping his wrist to anchor you to the world as it spun in a blur.

He withdrew his fingers from your heat, and the sudden absence left you breathless, a soft sound escaping your lips at the loss. When you blinked your eyes open, Spencer’s warm gaze met yours, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You smiled back at him, a little dazed, as he brushed your cheek with his untouched hand.

He carefully took your glasses off, placing them on the armrest of the couch. His thumb tenderly wiped away the tears that had escaped your eyes. He then cupped your chin, pulling you toward him, and kissed you deeply, his lips soft and lingering.

“Thank you,” he murmured, as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.

“I should be the one thanking you,” you softly laughed.

He shook his head, smiling. “No need for that,” he replied, his voice reassuring.

“But I want to,” you insisted. “Though… I think you’ll find I’m better at showing than telling.” You playfully whispered, as your nails grazed the outline of his dick.

You turned yourself around on his lap, your knees still planted on either side of him, but now with your back facing him. Leaning forward, you braced yourself on the coffee table, your elbows digging into the surface. You arched your back, making Spencer hiss sharply at the sight of your ass displayed before him, your arousal trickling down your thighs. The inviting shake of your hips made him lose his patience, and his fingers fumbled hastily with his belt.

“Fuck,” he groaned, hurriedly pushing his pants and boxers down his thighs. His cock sprang free, hard and eager, the flushed head brushing against the faint line of hair trailing up his abdomen.

He gripped himself firmly, pumping his length a few times before lining himself up with your slick entrance. The weight of his hand settled on your hip as he pressed the tip of his cock against your warmth, teasing you for the briefest moment before you sank down on him.

A sharp cry escaped your lips as he filled you, the new angle making him hit depths you’d never felt before. The stretch was deliciously overwhelming, stealing your breath as your fingers clawed at the table. You shakily tried to lift your hips, but your legs quivered under the strain.

Spencer noticed immediately, his hands finding their place—one on your waist, steadying you, and the other trailing down to your calf. He began guiding you, his strength effortlessly lifting and lowering you along his cock. The room filled with the symphony of your combined moans and the rhythmic slap of meeting skin.

“God, look at you,” he rasped, mesmerized by the way your body took him in. His gaze focused on the bounce of your ass, hypnotized by the way it moved with each thrust. On instinct, he brought his hand down in a firm smack against your cheek.

The sudden impact made you jolt, as you let out a sweet, startled cry. The sound sent a surge of need through him, and he swore he felt himself harden further.

“You liked that, huh?” he mused in curiosity. Without waiting for an answer, he did it again, revelling in your shivering response.

Pulling you against him, Spencer adjusted your position until you were seated in his lap, your back pressed flush to his chest. One arm wrapped around your waist to hold you close, while his other hand rose to cup your breast. His hips snapped into you roughly, each thrust pulling an uncontrollable whimper from your throat.

“You’re doing so good for me, angel,” he praised, his voice hoarse as his fingers pinched and rolled your nipple. The combination made your head loll back against his shoulder, surrendering to his touch. He seized the opportunity to claim your lips in a needy, devouring kiss. Tongues tangled messily, swallowing your shared moans.

As your pleasure mounted, your walls began to flutter around him, drawing a strained groan from his throat.

“Are you close again, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper against your lips.

“Yes,” you gasped, barely able to form the word. “Spencer… fuck, I’m so close.”

“Then cum around me,” he encouraged. “I know you want it.”

Your breath hitched. “Will you cum inside of me?”

For a heartbeat, he stilled. “I…” His gaze flickered with hesitation, cheeks flushed. “I want to cum on your face.”

Your pupils blew wide, desire sparking anew at his confession. A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

That was all the encouragement he needed. His fingers dipped between your thighs, circling your clit in rapid, precise motions. The pressure tipped you over the edge, and with a cry of his name, you let go.

Barely able to recover, you slid from his lap onto your knees, settling in front of him. Spencer’s breath hitched at the sight of you—flushed and disheveled, your sweat-slick skin glowing in the low light. Your lips, swollen from his kisses, parted expectantly.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathed, unable to tear his eyes away. You looked angelic… and he was about to ruin you.

It didn’t take long. His cock twitched, thick ropes of cum spilling over your face and dripping down to your chest. His jaw went slack, his chest heaving as he watched you collect some of his release with your thumb and slip it into your mouth. The sight of you sucking on your finger almost unraveled him all over again.

Unable to bring himself to leave your side, he grabbed his sleeve, using it to gently clean you up. Once satisfied, you leaned forward, resting your head on his thigh, basking in the comfortable silence that followed.

His phone buzzed suddenly on the couch, shattering the moment. Spencer groaned, grabbing the device and quickly silencing it with a flick of his finger.

You laughed softly, your voice tinged with amazement. “What was that about?”

Spencer shrugged, tossing the phone aside without a second glance. “I can be late for one day.”

[yuukiiqwq]

Satoru Gojo was more than ready to propose to you. For you to be his pretty little wife. For you to take his last name. To see you walk down the aisle in a white dress. He has spent weeks picking out a ring for you. Weeks finding the perfect place to propose. Weeks just for this moment. He knows you'll say yes.

Today was the day he would propose. He had everything all set up and ready. The ring box is in his pocket. He just needs to come home to you and get you ready for the date. He had long made a promise to himself. He'll make you happy because you are the world to him.

He then felt a vibration in his pocket from his phone, immediately snapping him out of his thoughts. He opened his phone to see that Shoko had called him. He accepted the call and was about to ask Shoko what she needed before she interrupted him.

"Satoru."

Satoru immediately freezes. Shoko had never called him by his first name. It was always Gojo.

"Come to my office," was the only thing Shoko said before ending the call. Her voice was shaking.

Dread filled Satoru's body. A chill was sent down his spine. Something was wrong, so he immediately teleported to Shoko's office. He was greeted with the sight of Shoko, his students, and you. The students' eyes red from crying. Shoko is unable to look him in the eyes. You covered in blood. Your curse energy completely diminished. Your lifeless body is on the table.

Oh. Oh.

"I'm sorry, sensei! It's all my fault!" Yuji apologies as he cries.

"She saved us." Nobara whispered as she continued to wipe her endless tears.

"We let our guard down." Megumi looks down. He was holding in his pain. "It's my fault. I was careless. They were wrong about–"

Satoru doesn't register the rest of Megumi's word. His ears were ringing, and his vision was blurring. A void in replacement of his heart. The ring in his pocket felt a lot heavier. He stares at your body before closing his eyes. He then turned toward his students with a smile.

"Hey, hey! It's alright, guys. It's not your fault. It was an accident! Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault at all. How about you guys take the next few days to relax! I'm sure this was very traumatic for you to lose a teacher in front of your eyes!"

"Gojo–" Megumi started, but he was pushed out the door with his friends before he could utter another word.

"Here, take my card and buy some stuff to help you take your mind off this, yeah? You guys need rest!" Satoru says as he closes the door. He's glad that he has his blindfold on so the students couldn't see the grief and pain in his eyes. He waited until he could no longer sense their curse energy before turning around towards you and Shoko.

"Shoko. Can you leave too? Just for a bit?" He asked. No. He pleaded. His voice was no higher than a whisper. He can't cry yet. Not in front of anyone but you. He's the strongest.

Shoko nodded and walked towards the door. "I'm sorry, Satoru. I tried to save her. I know today was suppose–" Shoko stopped before she finished the sentence. She bit the bottom of her lips before apologizing once more and then left.

Now, Satoru was left alone in the room with your lifeless body. He took off his blindfold and walked up to you. He held your once warm hand in his. He caressed your cheek as the tears that he was holding back finally fall down his face. He was going to propose to you today. You were supposed to be his wife. You were supposed to be with him until the day he died. But now... he would no longer see you. Your smile. Your laugh. You would no longer be smiling at him. In his arms. In his embrace. He wouldn't get to see your beautiful eyes open. Your voice. He wouldn't be able to hear your love for him. He won't be able to hear your "I love you, Satoru." You would no longer call his name. Oh, how he loved his name coming from your lips. It was supposed to be one of his happiest days. If he could only go back to yesterday. Where you were still in his arms, the two of you whispering your love to one another. Kisses being exchanged. Where you were still warm and alive. Where he can still stretch out his hand and reach you.

Fate loves taunting him with his loved ones. It loves to ruin him. To tear him apart. To rip his heart out and shred it to pieces because he's the strongest. So he'll always fail to protect the ones he loves. Fate is laughing at him because he is a joke. Fate is celebrating his grief. He has losted and fate has won again.

He doesn't know how much time has passed. Him next to your lifeless body, praying that you would just wake up. He wants to join you. Join you in the afterlife. To see you. To be with you. But he can't. He knows you'll never forgive him if he did. He still has his students to look after. A world to save. A revenge to sought after. He wiped his tears away because you would hate seeing him cry. He kissed you gently for the last time and whispered his eternal love towards you and a "I'll see you soon."

He then reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring. Your ring. He slipped it onto your ring finger and asked– "Will you marry me?"

A yes forever unspoken.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。YEARS LATER — GOJO SATORU. (rich boy au!)

contents. you and your rich husband, sitting and eating sushi years later on your wedding day. the end of one chapter, but the start of a new one. enjoy your happy rich boy gojo ending. with love, tee bee <3

satoru’s eyes are pretty when the sun sets, almost green instead of that usual icy blue—you can’t help but stare. it’s shamelessly, even. you watch as he brings the sushi to his lips, pausing just before he can take the bite as he notices your eyes on him.

“if you’re so busy staring at me, you might not notice it when your food is gone,” he hums, grinning cheekily at you.

you snort, rolling your eyes as you shake your head. “oh yeah? then i’ll just make you buy me more.”

“first day and you’re already admitting to marrying me for my wallet?”

you laugh—it’s a free, bright sound that he has memorized from plenty of experience. and it’s his turn to stare as the sun settles in the crinkles by your eyes, years and years of laughter and smiles evident in the lines of your skin. beautiful, he think, you’ve always been so, so painfully beautiful.

your wedding dress is expensive. a pretty, flattering little thing. you buy it yourself, despite his protests. some years ago, you’d have stared wistfully at the price tag and considered the purchase in another life. you’ve come a long way since then—satoru is proud. so proud, he feels an ache building in his chest from the way things have changed as time crept past the two of you.

not a bad ache, perhaps. a dull throb of nostalgia that settles under his heart, in that spot he has saved just for you.

“i don’t need your wallet, you idiot,” you grin, reaching over with your chopsticks to steal from his roll. he lets you, just like he always used to when you were younger.

satoru thinks now, if he could, he’d love to pat his younger self on the back. the version of himself that used to watch you walk out of class without sparing him a glance, the version of himself that ached so badly for a chance with you, he’d collect stars from the sky to trade for an ounce of your love. he’d tell his younger self that he made it—that he’s sitting here, years later with his grandmother’s ring on your hand, eating sushi go after your wedding.

for old times sake, you’d told him when you asked to stop by, we always celebrated with sushi go when we were younger, remember?

as if he’d forget, he wanted to laugh. but he drives over anyway, parking the car in the same old spot as he used to. this time, there’s newly wed! written on the back of the window—and the words miraculously enough crossed out underneath. (he thinks that’s courtesy of shoko, but she doesn’t fess up, and suguru insists it doesn’t matter. soon enough, he’ll get to the bottom of it.)

“are you sure?” he hums, “you’ll have a lot of fun with it, i promise.”

“i think i’d rather have fun with you,” you hum, giving him a small wink as you take a sip from your soda, making his lips curl into a wide grin.

“oh, isn’t that sweet,” he drawls, “i’m a lucky guy.”

“maybe if you’re on your best behavior, you’ll get extra lucky later tonight.”

“yeah?” he chuckles, folding his hands as he sits up straighter and nods seriously, “i’m a good boy.”

“you’re anything but that, toru,” you snort. and then you soften, staring at him as you reach over and grab his hand. he lets you, lacing his fingers with yours as your thumb brushes over his knuckles.

years and years worth of love resides in between your skin. the first time your hands touched him, you didn’t want him the way he needed you to. then one day, they touched him hesitantly, carefully, slowly exploring him with cautious gentleness. eventually they touched him like he was the world pressed in your palms, heavy with the weight of being your everything.

he likes being yours. more than he likes you being his—he’s always had more than enough. but there’s something about giving himself that feels better than taking, better than wanting, better than having.

satoru has always loved you. he thinks the first day you glared at him, he was doomed from the start. he thinks right now, as you stare at him with fondness, he’s even more doomed now.

he doesn’t mind it, not even a little.

“hey,” he murmurs, making you raise a brow for him to continue, “i’m your husband now.”

“i know,” you nod in amusement, “we just got married…like two hours ago. i didn’t forget that quickly.”

“good,” he wipes his forehead in faux relief, “i was getting worried for a second.”

“you’re too much,” you roll your eyes, squeezing his hand delicately.

“now that we’re officially married,” he starts, grinning cheekily as he bats his lashes, “we should list all the things we love about each other. in alphabetic order. you go first, of course.”

“i don’t have to alphabetize it.”

“why? you numbered it or something? is it organized by importance? i’ll accept that too, i suppose.”

“well, there’s only one thing,” you tease.

he huffs, grumbling a petulant, “so mean. all these years and you can only think of one thing? can’t you be a little nice to me in our wedding day?”

“i’ve worked smarter, not harder,” you shrug, “i’ve condensed all my reasons down to one thing.”

“and what would that be?” he pouts.

“everything.”

“that’s cheesy,” he snorts, but there’s a flush on his cheeks that makes you grin, snickering as you lean over and poke at his cheek.

“you’ll just have to deal with it. you’re my husband, after all.”

“did you ever think about it? when we were kids?” he asks softly, staring off at a young couple in the distance with a tiny grin. the boy pulls out the chair for the girl, pushing her in and tripping slightly on his way to his own seat. satoru chuckles softly at the sight.

“think about what?”

“us,” he mumbles, “getting married some day. before we got serious, at least.”

“i don’t know,” you admit, “i didn’t even think i’d date you, to be fair.”

“you hated me,” he pretends to sniffle, “you wanted me dead. you wanted me to blow up into smithereens and leave my poor mother a grieving mess, didn’t you?”

“maybe not then, but i might now,” you sigh tiredly.

“well, i knew i was going to marry you since the first time you insulted me,” he nods proudly, earning a loud chuckle from you.

“you were a little freak back in the day,” you laugh, “i believe it. only you’d be romanced by degradation.”

“baby,” he huffs, glaring at you (his eyes are soft, playful, even. so sweetly affectionate, your teeth could rot), “you should appreciate a man seeing the best at you. even when you put him through the ringer.”

he almost regrets saying it when your hand pulls away from his, but then one by one, your palms reach over to cradle his cheeks, brushing a thumb along his soft, familiar skin as you stare at him like he’s the only thing that matters.

he is, you make him believe. he’s the only thing that matters. the center of your universe. he fought tooth and nail to get there, of course, but he has no intentions of leaving.

ever.

“i will always appreciate you,” you say softly, eyes watering as you swallow thickly, chuckling when a small tear slips from your eyes. “thank you for loving me, satoru. even when it was hard. even when you had to fight to do it. no one has loved me like that.”

“aw don’t start with the waterworks now,” he mutters, looking away and blinking suspiciously enough that you suspect his own eyes are just as teary, “we can’t have you crying for me already—that’s for later.”

“never any decorum with you,” you huff out a breathless laugh.

his thumb reaches over to swipe at your tear, pinching your cheek affectionately as he grins. it’s toothy, boyish, hopelessly and completely in love. even back then, and even right now. he’s always so in love. it’s you—always, from the day you first rejected him to the day you said yes when he got in one knee, it’s been you.

“thanks for loving me too, sweetheart,” he whispers, his own voice choking a bit as he swallows, “it can’t be easy. i’m a handful.”

“at least you’re self aware,” you snicker.

satoru beams—and he’s yours. your rich, spoiled, beautiful boy. all yours to love for the rest of your rich, spoiled, beautiful days.

i cried writing this. what a man he is truly

[cheralith]

my serendipity ₊˚⊹♡

— promise yourself to him, and he'll love you forever tenfold. or... the blue lock boys and their proposals to you.

starring ; isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, shidou ryusei, michael kaiser content warnings ; gn!reader, alcohol consumption (isagi), reader wears a skirt (bachira), cursing (shidou/kaiser), reader wears a dress and heels (kaiser), lowk ooc shidou and maybe kaiser, possessive kaiser a/n ; happy late valentine's day everyone and a happy birthday to me hehe! i hope i'm not late by a mere day, but this is both my valentine's day event and my birthday gift from me to you all, so i hope that alongside this, you're surrounded by nothing but tender loving care amidst the season of love ( •◡-)-♡! there's also a collection of some of my favorite love songs i've added under each of the names that i think fit them/their scene, so take a listen for a more immersive experience, enjoy!

— love, isagi yoichi.

The freshness of the meadow's air was an atmosphere you think you can breathe in forever, for it was so much more pristine and clear than the air you were used to in the city. The setting sun overviews the seaside town that you and your boyfriend took the pleasure of visiting as a treat for you both since he was currently off season and you decided to make the most out of what you could do. It was a scene straight out of a painting, you think to yourself, as yellows and oranges paint the sky overhead, a sliver of iris beginning to take over as twilight sets.

The little town below you hustles and bustles about, its townspeople fluttering over to wrap up the seemingly mundane day. You're a little envious that they get to see such a beautiful sight like this everyday and get to breathe in fresh air without the mayhem of cars and salarymen scattering themselves. Closing your eyes, you take in the cooling spring air of the meadow, letting yourself linger amidst the peaceful atmosphere of the countryside.

You'll miss this. The peace and placidity of a place like this. You dream of retiring to a cottage somewhere similar to here, somewhere where the grass is greener and the sky is bluer. You think it'd do you some good.

"I think some wine would pair well with your daydreaming," a voice says playfully.

Opening your eyes, you see your companion holding a bottle of wine in his hands, gentle eyes softening at your serenity. Yoichi is glad he brought you here, knowing that you needed a break from city life to just simply get away to the tranquility of the countryside. The change in you was more than evident—the stiffness in your body was long gone upon arrival and you were much more laxed when it came to last minute changes on the itinerary. It was rare he saw this side of you, so he savored it with every moment he was able to get.

Smiling gently at your boyfriend, you nod and let him pour two glasses of white wine into the glasses you and him had brought for this picnic.

"How're the sandwiches?" Yoichi asks, handing you your glass. "I bought them at this local diner nearby the hotel, so I hope they're okay."

"I really was never much of a bologna fan until now," you say as you pick up your half-eaten sandwich and hold it out for him to take a nibble. "It's a little salty, but I like it."

"I'm glad," he affirms through chews before he hums in approval. "Did you try the charcuterie board yet? This place is known for their cheeses."

You shake your head. Yoichi grins and eagerly begins to throw together a cheese-and-cracker creation, topped off with a bit of crumbled nuts. He gently cups his hand underneath the one holding the stack and motions for you to come forward.

Biting gently and letting his hand catch the crumbs, you giggle when you thoughtfully chew on the combinations as Yoichi throws the extra crumbs in his mouth to not let anything go to waste.

"Hey! This was pricey," he claims, "I'm sure half a cracker cost one hundred yen each..."

You fight the urge to spit out your food at his exaggeration. Yoichi may be a world class soccer player, with the mere mention of his name lighting peoples' faces with pride as the ace of one of Japan's soccer teams, but despite his hefty salary, there was still that semi-frugal middle class boy who still debated in buying a yogurt drink or ice cream whenever you and him stopped by a convenience store—never mind the fact that he could buy fifty of each in one sitting.

His humbleness, however, is what made you so drawn to him in the first place. He knew, you knew, and everyone knew of his great skill and play on the field, but in interviews, he was always one to scratch his neck and say "I just did what I could, really..." post-games. Yoichi never let the fame get to his head, and his ability to stay so grounded to earth made you filled with love solely for him and him alone.

The mix of the sweetness of the cheese and the saltiness of the cracker blend beautifully together on your tongue. You mimic his actions from before and give a hum and nod with approval at your boyfriend's taste.

There's a few other assortments of food that you and him have collected prior to the picnic—some fresh fruit you had bought and cut from the farmer's market, a small pasta bowl made by Yoichi himself, little quiches you had grabbed from one of the bakeries, and a strange white box that peeks itself out of the picnic basket that you have yet to open that was brought by Yoichi.

Gently clinking your glasses together, the wine that goes down your throat feels just as mellow as the atmosphere that hugs you and your boyfriend. Everything feels just so perfect right now, you could bathe yourself in such contentment.

Some conversations float by between you and Yoichi, breezy and effortless for sometime as the sun slowly sets itself into the mountains. Talks about work, about his recent plays (you laugh out loud whenever his anger gets the best of him and a short fuse of cusses spit out from him when he talks about specific players' plays, throwing a stray at one of his teammates), about the latest gossips, everything that just comes naturally to you. There was no need for a filter whenever Yoichi was with you. His judgement barely shone through when you were around.

He finishes the last of his wine rather quickly. Yoichi places it down gently and grabs your hands in his own. "I have a surprise for you."

A brow raises as your lips curl. "Oh?"

"Wait here, yeah?" Yoichi asks as grabs the picnic basket and places it in front of you. "I have to go grab something from the car. Why don't you prepare the cake in the meantime, hm? Maybe do some cleanup with the food, too, since it's getting late."

"Oh so that's what's inside the box," you murmur.

"Uh huh, I had it specially made for us," he says with a pinch of excitement in his voice. Yoichi gathers up a few of the plates and juts them in your hands, a wobbly smile upon his face as he gets up and dusts himself off, beginning to jog off in the direction of the parking lot. "I'll be right back!"

You blink at his hastiness, a little out of character for him, but shrug as you return back to your original position facing the coastal town and sunset. You're glad he tasked you with cleaning up the leftovers, since you've grown accustomed to Yoichi's occasional messiness and clumsiness when it came to handling food. There was one time during a friend's dinner party that he dropped the pot roast in front of everyone, meat going everywhere to Bachira's delight and to Barou's disdain. You also grow a little weary whenever he's around ceramic, since he's broken quite a few bowls and plates without much effort since Yoichi doesn't seem to have a grasp of his own strength whenever he washes the dishes.

You shake your head at the memories, quietly laughing to yourself when you remember Barou forcing him to mop his apartment floor from the remnants of the meat as a punishment. Barou still invites you over to his house during group events, but you often have to plead with him to invite your boyfriend, now used to the pulled face he makes or the curse of, "Is the donkey really necessary to bring?" through the phone.

Tenderly, you open the picnic basket and carefully take out the white cake box to put it on the blanket. You go to prepare two plates together for the cake and take the cake cutter out of the basket, ready for slicing. Your fingers gently tug at the delicate silk ribbon right before you open the lid.

Your heart skips a beat.

It's a simple white vanilla cake shaped into a heart. Its framed with pale pink frosting on its side, as well as a couple of chocolate-covered strawberries placed in some places of the framing. But it's not the design of the cake that captures you.

It's what's written on it.

Four words written in delicate cursive so clearly and distinctly that it's hard to miss.

Will you marry me?

Your breath hitches as you read it with glazed eyes, your head whipping around to call Yoichi over, thinking perhaps he grabbed the wrong cake by accident from the cake shop, but your doubts suddenly dissipate when you're faced with Yoichi on one knee before you...

... with a velvet box in hand, a glimmering ring ready for you tucked carefully within it.

Words falter, and you can only stare at him in astonishment as he smiles at you, his lips still a little crooked in apprehension.

He bites his lip, grin growing a little wider as tears brim your eyes.

"Well?"

— with all my heart, bachira meguru.

"Meguru, that's cheating!"

"Since when where there rules to tag?!"

You huff in annoyance as your boyfriend hops off the railing of the staircase he just slid down from as his hand grazed your back to indicate you were "it" again.

You can feel some of the stares of the security guards that were left to babysit you and him as you dash your way down the staircase to chase after your boyfriend through the empty halls of the museum he had cleared out for you and him this evening. That's one of the many pros of being a professional soccer player—that anything can be bent at someone's will with a mere slide of stacks of cash. And Meguru had decided to use his own gain to entertain you and him.

By playing a game of tag between the two of you in amidst the massive art museum.

He claimed it was the perfect foundation for it; pillars to hide behind, a maze of rooms to obscure the tail that one may have on another, wide halls to run around in. For Bachira Meguru, this was the perfect battleground besides the turf of a soccer field. You suppose it also came from his early love of art due to his mother being a painter, with some of her collections even being shown for the season in one of the halls.

Anyone else of your ages would think such an activity was foolish. To an extent, yes, they were right. You and Meguru were both adults with adult responsibilities and adult lives... but you only live once and you and him lived by the philosophy to live it to the fullest. Childish whimsies came more often to you and your boyfriend, and that was the gravitational pull that drew you and him together to blossom a relationship filled with surprises and spontaneity. You felt unbelievably alive with him.

He'd call you in the middle of the night, asking you if you want to skinny dip in the nearby beach with him. He'd stop the car in the middle of a busy road as the view of an amusement park came closer, snatching your arm and tugging you out of it to run to its entrance. He'd show up at your door with concert tickets in hand unprompted, jutting one in your hand and telling you to get ready.

Bachira Meguru was a lightening bolt, sparking energy everywhere unsolicited. And you were more than happy to be struck over again and again if it meant you felt alive.

So now you're here. It's near midnight, and you're sure you and him have scattered almost all the interior terrain of the museum he cleared out in your game of tag that he brought up to you yesterday evening out of nowhere, telling you to dress nice, but to wear running shoes.

Meguru poked his head out from behind a wall that lead to the other room, giggling as you whip your head a few times to catch where he went before you spot his bright canary yellow eyes and run after him.

You weave through the plethora of statues that sprinkle about the corridor, sprinting after the flash of brown and yellow hair in front of you. It shouldn't be fair that you're currently chasing down a professional soccer player who clearly has the upper hand, but in all honesty, you think the challenge makes it all the more fun, more exciting.

Stopping to catch your breath, you hunch down for a bit, gathering your skirt in your hands to reveal the worn-out running shoes you wear that contrast heavily to the neat outfit you're wearing as you collect your energy.

"Don't tell me you're tired already," Meguru sings out, his voice rather close.

You lift your head up to see your boyfriend standing just a few meters in front of you, leaning on a pillar of a statue with a cocky smile, arms crossed as if this was the easiest thing in the world. There wasn't even a sheen of sweat on his forehead, unlike your misted one. Your chest heaves for a few moments, and he watches anticipatingly as you collect yourself before you take a swipe at him.

Meguru jumps back just in time, laughter ringing out as you gather up your speed and sprint. You manage to turn a corner that's shared with the hallway he had just turned on and take a shortcut, waiting behind the open wall before you jump out and tap his shoulder.

"Gotcha," you grin as he gasps in delight and looks back at you, mischief ever so clear in his face.

You attempt to muffle your many fits of giggles when you come up with a plan to try and escape him. There's two choices that unfold before you—either you can run up the flight of stairs into the Greek artifacts or you can enter into the inner garden.

With not much time left, you can hear his quickening footsteps growing louder and louder, and you go for the latter.

Your feet carry you into the dark garden, making you squint your eyes to get a proper view of where you're going, but you see a sheen of light the closer you get to the center of it. Deciding that might be where the common area is, you quickly dart towards it but gasp when the entirety of it comes into full view.

Candles light up the middle area of the garden with rose petals sprinkled about the ground. A large balloon arch of white and gold arcs over what seems to be small semi-circle of little flower bouquets with a small white rug placed delicately in the middle of it all. There's two words that spell themselves out in blocky letter lights.

MARRY ME?

It takes you awhile to register the scene before you, your heart thrumming faster and faster each time you scan it.

"Aw man, you found it too early..." Meguru's voice sulks from behind you.

Whipping your head around, you yelp at your boyfriend's sudden appearance, making him grin. You think you need to take a pause from all the excitement you've been absorbed in for the past few hours, a new one being blossomed at this very moment.

There truly was never a dull moment with Bachira Meguru.

Wordlessly, his smile turns less playful and more tender when you can't find the words to say. He takes your hand in his own grasp and gently leads you to the scene before you, getting down on one knee and pulling out a small box from his back pocket.

"(L/N) (Y/N)," Meguru starts slowly, his voice displaying the utmost sincerety he's able to muster and possibly the most serious you've ever seen him. "Will you do me the honor of marrying me and being with me for the rest of our lives?"

With someone as special and as enigmatic as Meguru, it really doesn't take you much debating to choose your answer. Someone like this only comes once in a lifetime, and you decide to cherish it as much as you can in this one.

You only live once after all.

You nod, whispering a "Yes..."

Meguru's smile stretches wide before he shouts out in happiness, jumping in the air. You laugh loudly at his antics before he plucks out the ring and puts it on your finger, letting you admire it before sharing a loving kiss. The security guards that oversee the garden let out claps of celebration and a couple of shouts of approval, making you and him laugh at the accidental audience.

Meguru goes to wipe away a fallen tear from your cheek before kissing your forehead gently. He suddenly goes near your ear and whispers,

"This still means you're 'it', by the way."

— sincerely yours, itoshi rin.

Rin always thought he was meant to be alone.

His own parents tended more of their attention to Sae, and Sae himself left Rin to his own devices when Rin was only eleven, just barely hatching into puberty. Much of life Rin had to learn the harder way, where he had no forewarnings from anyone and he had to be taught his own lessons. It was his own self-discipline that got him through much of his younger years that made him so sustainable solely by his own foundations.

Even during games, he tended to lean on his own instincts on what he thought was best rather than relying on his teammates for the best play possible. If it were legible, Rin would've taken an opportunity to play 1v11 in a match since he carried the majority of his teams anyway with his prodigal skills.

He thrived best in an isolated environment anyway. And Rin felt okay with it. No person is forever anyways, not even his own blood.

Until you came along.

It was in his second year during college. It was you and your stupid owl keychain on your stupid backpack that accidentally let out your stupid second volume of Ciguatera right in front of him. It was the stupid way how his hands lingered on the book just a little more than he should've. It was the stupid way that his eyes always gravitated to you during lectures. It was the stupid way that you and him were assigned as partners for a project. It was the stupid way your eyes lit up when you found out he played soccer.

It was the stupid way he felt able to breathe the air much more comfortable around you the more he spent time with you. It was the stupid way the days felt duller when he didn't see you on campus. It was the stupid way his heart fluttered when you laughed, when you smiled, when you said his name.

It was all so... stupid.

A feeling he never felt before had been born from your existence. Itoshi Rin usually had a pretty solid grasp on things he could control, but he didn't know how to handle such a feeling of affection because he hadn't ever felt it before, and it felt too slippery to try and get a firm grip of. You shook his core, and Rin hated it because only one other person in his life was able to do such a thing.

Learning it was best to do so after his last lesson to keep himself safe, he attempted to push you away before his heart broke a second time. Yet somehow, Rin felt more drawn to your pull every time he tried to create space between you and him.

They say that distance makes the heart grow fonder. Rin never really gave the feeling much thought in regards to you until he found himself dismal and in a grey area again without seeing your face at least once, but still ever so stubborn, he thought this was best. This is what he was used to—being alone.

"I don't have time for you anymore," he said to you one evening as he dropped you off at your dorm. This would be the last time he'd do this, he promised himself, just one more time to make sure you were safe to put himself at ease.

You had turned back to him with the saddest eyes he'd ever seen, but with a small smile still on your face. Without asking for a reason, you merely nodded. "I see. Well... goodbye then."

Rin tried to ignore the way his heart had clenched so tightly as he watched you disappear into your dorm hall without glancing back at him one more time, though there seemed to be a slight lag in your steps.

But the lines blurred. It wasn't him being alone that he reclused himself to during your absence from his life... but rather loneliness. He was back to being lonely, not alone.

He had to go back to watching movies by himself, conversing with his own thoughts instead of another voice. He had to go back to eating meals by himself without having a foot nudge his own under a table. He had to go back and stop looking for a specific pair of bright eyes and a wishful smile in the stands during games.

He went back to a world of grey of his doing. All because he was terrified to let another person handle his own heart. And he was doing a good job at altering his life back to the way it was, until you did what you usually did best and butt in and splash color all over his monochromatic canvas again.

It was before an away game, in the common-area just before he boarded the coach bus. There, just before you turned the corner, he spotted you saying goodbye to someone, where you had accidentally made eye contact with turquoise eyes that seemed to shine for the first time in a long time at your appearance before him. He couldn't stop himself from staring, feeling relieved that you were still within his radius despite him being the one to create space.

You lingered there for a moment, before swallowing and mouthing to him with that stupid gentle, forgiving smile of yours,

"Good luck. Do well."

Rin sprinted off the bus the moment they were back on campus after winning by a landslide due to his off-the-wall playing. His feet carried him to your dorm, where he rapidly knocked on your door despite it being near midnight. You opened the door to him and despite hating it when people touched him, Rin had held you so tightly with hitched breaths, whispering "I'm sorry..." over and over again into your ear.

And came Itoshi Rin's first love, blossomed on a random Friday night.

His only love at that. He can't imagine the ring in his pocket being for anyone else.

A couple years older now, he walks alongside you on the beach that he used to ponder about whatnot on as he listens to you talk about the latest gossip at work. This is the rhythm of how your dynamic usually works—you talk, Rin listens. He likes it that way. It's an adequate balance.

The air is cooling now, now that autumn is approaching. You're huddled in a light jacket (Rin's, respectively), and gently warm your hands by rubbing them together to let the created friction emit some heat. Rin silently grabs your hands and cups them together, embellishing a better warmth from his own breath instead of letting you do your own work.

Your eyes soften as you let his love language speak for him, his own gaze coming to meet yours as his hands envelope yours and clasps them tightly to keep the heat trapped in your skin.

"Is that better?" he asks quietly, eyes looking for any sign of your approval.

You nod contently. "Mm hm."

"I told you to dress warm," he says, sighing, "next time, bring gloves."

You know Rin long enough to know such a tone of phrase isn't necessarily scolding you, but rather cautioning you out of genuine care. It wasn't his fault his voice had a natural cutting-edge tone, but you've grown accustomed to the little bits of adjustments he does to indicate he's not being cold.

The soft sand feels more pliable than usual. Perhaps it was the heavier layers you wear, but you find yourself sinking into it more easily. Rin helps stabilize you by gripping your hand in his own, noticing your imbalance.

"It's just a little further," he murmurs softly, a little shy when he squeezes your hand in his jacket pocket.

He was never able to quite fully get over his fluster around you. You made his head fill with cotton, his heart pound a little harder, whenever you were within his vicinity, despite knowing every detail about you. Even after six years of being together as an official couple, he never was able to fully get over that high school crush feeling. Maybe that's a good thing, though. Maybe it was meant to be that way. It was probably life's way of telling him that you were made to last for him, as only you were able to emit such a feeling for him when no one else could.

They say the average relationship lasts two years and three months. Yet somehow, Rin has never gotten over the feeling of falling in love with you since the moment he spotted you for the first time during a home game. It's been six years and ten months since that incident, and he figures that if such a feeling hasn't expired yet, it might never will.

The trail of candles suddenly appear before you to your surprise. The sand trail that it frames is the only part of the beach that is untouched by feet, as though it was waiting for you to imprint on it. On the other side of the trail lies a half-circular structure of individual white roses, all standing up right from the sand, along with blanket and a basket of wine and chocolates.

"Oh my," you mumble quietly, clearly taken aback at the rather romantic scene. While your boyfriend always did the most when it came to your dates, this was another level of sentimental. Be it the isolation from other people on the beach or the sunset horizon in the background, you feel a wave of solitude when Rin trails you down the path.

"This is rather new," you say to him suddenly, your eyes wide with worry. "Um, I didn't forget something big, did I? We celebrated your birthday... our anniversary isn't for another month..." you count down all the possible major events that you and Rin celebrated together as a couple on your fingers, but Rin shakes his head.

"No," he interjects. "This... i-is something completely different."

You blink owlishly and tilt your head, leaning your face closer to examine your boyfriend's blushed cheeks.

"Oh, are you proposing?" you ask inquisitively with a sparking coy smile, as if it was the plainest thing in the world.

Rin tends to be rather flat with his emotions, but he can't help but gawk when you guess correctly. He supposes his reaction gives his plans away, since you burst out laughing when a choked noise comes out of his throat.

"So I'm correct?" you ask through giggles.

"How'd you know?!" Rin asks, his blush now spreading rapidly on his face, the back of his neck absolutely burning with heat. Upset that all the plans he kept repeating to himself for the entire last three days was suddenly disrupted by you picking up context clues, he feels his ego crumbling before you, going back to square one where he'd feel that familiar flutter in his chest.

"Meguru told me a week ago when we all went to that one bar," you mention. "He had a little too much to drink and ended up accidentally spilling the beans."

A vein pops on Rin's forehead with avid irritation, jaw gritting as the phantom of a familiar bob-cut throws a peace sign in his mind. This is what's bound to happen when Rin asks for help on a major life event from the one person that can't keep his mouth shut even with a gun to his temple. But Bachira was the only person in the friend group that had been married so far to who was essentially his twin flame, meaning he was ultimately the last resort.

Rin thinks that he should've just asked someone on the street instead, now that it's clear his decision went awry.

Stupid shitty, fucking lukewarm bob-cut... Rin curses in his mind, a fire burning behind his eyes. Next time I see him, I'll—

"My answer is 'yes', by the way, Rin."

Rin's violent daydreams are suddenly broken when your voice cuts through. Your sweet, supple voice that's able to calm him down just by the sound of his name falling from his lips. Your superpower, he thinks.

He suddenly loosens his fist that he was making in his hand and looks at you. Clear, smiling eyes gaze at his wide ones with affirmation so distinctly held within them. All the tension he had been feeling up until this very moment instantaneously dissolves, running through his now-loosened fist like sand from the beach you and him are posted on.

He wants to grab your face and kiss you with as much strength he can muster. Wants to whisper sweet nothings and loving promises into lips he's tasted over and over again, yet just can't get enough of. Wants to hold you so tightly in his arms to the point where you meld into each other.

But, nevertheless, he holds himself back. There's still something he has to do.

"At least let me say the damn thing first," he mutters and finally gets down on one knee, his gaze never faltering against yours.

You giggle, nodding and letting him take one of your hands as his unoccupied one goes to fetch the ring box from his back pocket.

Rin was, and still is, not a man of many words. He says what he needs to say the moment he needs to say them. He feels as though he can't waste his time on incessant words, but this time, he feels as though four words can carry all the meaning he needs to convey.

He swallows thickly, presenting a luscious, glimmering ring at you, noticing the way your eyes become hypnotized with the specialized gem settled in the middle of the band.

"(Y/N)," Rin states, smoothing over your precious ring finger. "Will you marry me?

— forever yours, shidou ryusei.

"Ryu, you're gonna get another ticket!" you yell out through the helmet as the motorcycle's speedometer's needle rapidly ticks up. Your arms wrap securely around his waist as he laughs off your concern, his grip on the handles tightening when he squeezes the throttle grip.

You know Ryusei loves to live life to its fullest—its the core of his way of living life. He's irrational and explosive, impulsive and eccentric. Anything that makes him tick is what captures his full attention.

Unfortunately for you, your complete opposite behaviors is uniquely what made him so magnetized by you for reasons unknown. Unlike Ryusei, who tends to stand out wildly in a crowd, be it his unconventional haircut or his obnoxious thoughts that he just can't keep to himself, you're demure and quiet. You keep to yourself at all times and you think that you're quite plain-looking. You don't sport wild hair or scattered piercings, nor do you remove your filter and say what you want to say, so you don't understand how someone like you have a spotlight in Ryusei's mind.

But you do, somehow. And you don't think that he's too intent on shifting it to anyone else soon.

So now you're here. It's eleven at night with an near-empty highway before you, backpacking your boyfriend that your parents heavily disapprove of in the middle of the night because he snatched you up from your apartment and told you to follow him. He tossed you his spare helmet for his motorcycle and off you and him drove into the night.

You should've known better, you really should've, considering it was Ryusei after all that you were dealing with. He'll do anything that his mind tells him to without thinking of the consequences. You can't think of another person in the world who has little to no judgement about his actions.

"Don't worry 'bout it, dolly!" he guffaws from his helmet. He lurches forward and you squeal when the motorcycle's speed suddenly jumps. "You know I'd never hurt ya!"

You very much want to protest against his claim, considering he's forced you to tag along with extreme experiences that have put you scraping at Death's door, but every time, Ryusei always tugs you back to reality, to him. Because your his before anyone else's, even the Reaper himself.

"Where are we even going?!" you ask out loud, trying to leer over his shoulder for any sort of familiar direction. To no avail, you're only met with the empty road of the highway, only lit by the streetlights. "I have a meeting really early tomorrow!"

"Fuck your meeting!" Ryusei hollers, giving another one of those joker-like laughs. "Fuck your job in general, but fuck your meeting specifically!"

You know Ryusei's hatred for your corporate job. Blame it on him hating the mundane or how you rant to him about your trashy bosses, he keeps telling you to ditch the position over and over again, even asking you if you quit every time you bring it up. You know that it's just him trying to be a good boyfriend, but when you try to bring up the fact that the job market for your skills is trash, he only shrugs and just tells you why even bother with working. His salary as a soccer player is more than enough to cover you and him.

"That doesn't answer my question!" you shout back through the loud roaring of the motorcycle's engine. "Where are we going?!"

"You'll see! You need to trust me!" he yells from over his shoulder. You can see those rows of menacing pearly whites from the shaded visor and your stomach stirs a little. From excitement or anxiety, that was up to fate to decide. You've placed your trust in Ryusei's hands a plethora of time and you still haven't gotten a good grasp of its pattern of consequences.

You merely sigh in defeat, placing your chin on his shoulder and placing your whims at his hands, letting him take reign of your late-night journey.

From a desolate parking lot, he introduces you to a lone hill adorned with flora, where a wooden staircase at the bottom of it waits for you and him to carry you to the top of it. It's rather a rough journey, with you counting a total of eleven flights of stairs of ten steps each that you have to take up in the dead of night where you were wringed out of all the energy you had from the day. Ryusei wastes no time, leaping through the first three with no problem. He waits for you as you heave through them at your own pace, your legs already starting to turn numb.

"Took you long enough," Ryusei remarks, not even waiting for a reply from you before he begins to climb another three.

By the time you've reached the sixth flight, he's already done with all of them to your discontent. He calls for you to hurry up from atop the stairs and you flicker back a frustrated middle finger back at him, to which he only answers back with an boisterous laugh.

"Oop, watch your step, doll," he cautions as he catches you last minute before you nearly face-plant on the floor when you trip on your last stair, your legs shaky from the exhaustion. "What took you so long?" he asks tauntingly.

You shove him off of you, deciding it was better to lean on a tree. "Screw you..."

"Mmh, you can do that later, if you'd like," he murmurs flirtatiously in your ear, laughing viciously as you swat at him. He lets you catch your breath before tugging at your sleeve and telling you to hurry. "Your surprise is waiting, c'mon."

Leave it to Shidou Ryusei to plan something spontaneous in the dead of the night. It was unfortunately very like him to do something as erratic as this, and you just hope whatever he has in store doesn't involve you facing a near-death experience like the one time he brought you bungee-jumping straight after work.

Yawning, you nod and follow him with fatigued limbs. It takes your tired eyes a little while to adjust to what Ryusei is pointing at, but the heaviness disappears the moment you understand why he brought you here so late.

The hill somehow overviews nearly all of the city and the lights it gleams out into the night. Your breath catches itself in your throat as you take in the glorious sight of the stars in the sky and the array of lights that dance about the city's skyline. The taller skyscrapers in the background loom over the rest of the city like guardians and the light of cars on the winding highway that circles around it look like little fairies dancing about.

It's a gorgeous view that you knew you would've never seen if it weren't for the interference in your normally-mundane life that is Shidou Ryusei.

A pair of arms goes to wrap themselves around your waist and bring you closer to a chest. Ryusei settles himself nicely in the divot between your shoulder and neck, inhaling a bit of your leftover perfume. "You like?"

You nod, eyes taking in the breathtaking view in full depth, scanning every inch that your field of vision lets you see. "Yes," you breathe.

"Good," he mutters, "Discovered this place randomly a few weeks ago after a post-celebration. I thought you might like it."

"It's gorgeous, Ryu," you warmly whisper, your heart melting a little at his consideration.

In any frontal aspect, no one would expect the Shidou Ryusei to be in a relationship, let alone be good at handling one. But after being with him for quite awhile, with your third anniversary coming up soon, you found a side to him that would be deemed almost unnatural to the unsuspecting eye. Underneath those layers of brashness, you were able to find a softer side of him, one that'd only be revealed to you and you alone.

Sure, there were times when his usual image would shine through when you were with him, most prominent when there were others around that were eyeing you ("Take a look this way and I'll bust your head in, bud!" he had shouted with a wicked smile to a passerby one time that looked at you with just the slightest bit too much of intent), but behind closed doors, a tenderness revealed itself dedicated for you.

Because in all honesty—Ryusei was a good boyfriend. Audacious and obnoxious, sure, but good. There was a reason why your relationship has lasted this long, after all. He'd come at your beck and call when you needed him most with no questions asked. He'd offer you advice whenever you complained about something, knowing that you didn't really care about sympathy. He always remembered important dates, even the miniscule ones like what date the new season of your favorite show released just so he can watch it with you.

That layer that only you got to see was the prime reason as to why you returned his affection in equal fervor.

You begin to feel his lips peppering a small path up the side of the neck, letting out a brief yelp when you feel his sharp teeth graze the lobe of your ear. You can feel him grin against your skin.

"You wanna elope with me, doll?" he asks suddenly.

Spine stiffening, you look at him from the side of your now-widened eyes. "Huh?"

"You heard me," he shrugs nonchalantly, as if it doesn't bother him. And it probably doesn't, knowing that he'll always have a way out eventually to get what he wants.

"I—" you start, your words suddenly knotting in your throat. "Ryu... that's a big decision."

"Well duh!" he exclaims. "That's the point! We gotta make it dramatic as possible. That's the whole fun of it."

"Are you only asking me to do this just so you can get some weird spark of adrenaline?" you ask, brows furrowing in anticipation.

Ryusei snorts. "You think that lowly of me? Hell no. I wanna marry you, for real. It's just..." For the first time since you've known him... you hear Shidou Ryusei falter. His head hunches a bit, a frown forming itself on his lips.

"Your parents will never approve of me, we both know that," he says, his grip around you tightening as though you'd slip away from him at any moment. "I'd never get their blessing."

Your eyes soften a bit as he stares intently at the view in front of you. The way his voice goes so quiet confirms the genuineness behind his words and you know what he says about your parents is true. Yes, he loves you and yes, he'll be able to provide for you, but when your parents learned about his reputation on the field as a soccer player, they exactly weren't the most pleased to know that your boyfriend was willing to start fights with whoever dared to cross him.

But... despite it all, despite all the headlines and the rumors, Shidou Ryusei was still yours. You still held him close despite all the challenges that came your way just for being at his side. It was that singular layer of himself that he'd unsheathe just for you to let you know that you mattered to him just as much as soccer did. While the questions of why were still left unanswered, since as much as you knew him, Ryusei was still an enigma to you, his actions spoke loud and true. Reckless as he was, at the end of the day, he was so, so good to you.

Sure, you could also get loving from some plucky nobody on the street, but Ryusei's form of love was different. It was vibrant, avid with colors and explosions of life, you don't think another person could dare paint themselves in the colors of Shidou Ryusei.

You could go about your mundane life. Settle down with someone that was just as enticing as you were, have a family, keep working at your corporate job, retire peacefully...

... but truly, where was the fun in that?

You don't think you can live life in that manner after meeting Ryusei. You don't think you should.

"... are you really serious about this?" you mutter softly. "Do you really intend on marrying me?"

Ryusei cocks a brow, as if you've just asked him if the sky is blue. "No shit I do. You think all those times me screaming 'This one's for you' right before I score a goal were for nothing?"

You sigh with a smile, memories of playbacks of your boyfriend shrieking out your name on the field when the ball lands in the net running through your mind and how you had to hide your face at times in embarrassment when he pointed a painted fingernail in your direction in the VIP section.

"Do you swear you'll treat me well?" you ask as your hand finds its way to his own.

Ryusei interlocks his fingers with yours. "When have I not?"

Your heart squeezes. "And do you swear that you'll love me forever?"

You can just hear the smirk in his voice as he titters. Suddenly, he removes his hands and repositions them on your waist, your feet suddenly not being rooted to the ground anymore.

"'Till death to us part, sweetness!" he shouts, twirling you around with his strength.

You yell at him to put you down, fists going to hit his arms as he nears the edge of the fencepost. "Okay, okay, I get it! Ryu, I'll fall—Christ, Ryusei put me down! I'll marry you, just put me down!"

Eventually, he does and his laughter ceases. Suddenly, your cheeks are being squished and your lips meet his in a semi-violent manner, teeth nearly clashing as Ryusei kisses you hard and passionately.

He holds you there for a minute, tasting your lips over and over again with his before he breaks apart from you and gives you a wide grin, smirking at your flustered breathlessness.

"Call off work," he says, giving a wet kiss on your forehead. "We're going ring shopping tomorrow first thing."

— promisingly yours, michael kaiser.

"I hate you."

... is what Kaiser said to you out of the blue one day, completely unprompted. You were standing at the entrance of his apartment, some food for him in hand, your journey to travel to his abode ending on a rather oddly sour note.

Despite the fact that it was him that asked you to come over to "hang out" at his place while he was off-season, Kaiser wanted to push you away, to get you as far away from him as possible. He could no longer stand to look at your face without his gut churning and his head spinning. Similar in the way that he'd watch his opponent score a goal during a high-intensity game, something about your presence made him feel queasy, as though there were a storm brewing up inside of him.

It wasn't always this way, which was the weird part. Or perhaps, for a better wording, wasn't always this intense. You and him had been friends since childhood, after he wandered into your father's bakery with the intent to steal to survive. You had graciously given him some spare bread rolls and told him that you'll see him later, in which his return to your father's bakery had bloomed a friendship. Leave it to the neighborhood baker's kid to befriend even the oddest of children, even the one that had a scrappy jersey and bruised knees with a busted lip that would send warning signs to most children. But no, you had to come in and swoop Kaiser into your life like the saint you were.

The problem is that Kaiser didn't know how a sickening feeling like this developed. Was it when you had baked him a small cake for one of his birthdays? Or perhaps when you started showing up to his soccer games to support him? He didn't know and that's what pissed him off—that he didn't have a definite answer to when this feeling started. He let go of that irritation quickly, however, choosing to dwell on the present and future instead of the past since he knew he couldn't change it even if he did have a framework of when. It wasn't like he could go back into the past and stop this horrid feeling from being born.

It was swiftly replaced instead by an annoyance of some kind. He'd get a tugging feeling at his chest whenever you smiled at him or whenever your hands would brush against his. His head would start to spin whenever you were near him, your perfume mingling in the air. The older you and him grew, the more intense such a feeling became and it became a more avid distraction as the years passed.

Like the time you had been sick and missed out on an extremely important match that would bring him to the German Cup. He remembers seeing the empty seat he reserved for you and how he kept looking back at it during each play. He'd score a goal in a miraculous play and would whip his head around to see if you witnessed him in such a glory, but then a frustration would stir up within him at the air that lingered in your seat. He remembers being more destructive on the field that day, his poor opponents having to be in the path of his chaos.

Or perhaps the time he had taken you on a trip abroad to New York, just you and him, where amidst all the sparkling billboards, one of his own sponsored by Adidas posted on the Times Tower, Kaiser's handsome face overseeing the business of Times Square. It was hard not to miss, if anything, and he got upset that you only complimented it with a mere "That's so cool!" as though the man standing right next to you wasn't the face for one of the top soccer teams in the world.

Or when poor Ness had to witness him throw a tantrum in his apartment when you texted him that you had to cancel plans since you were going on a date one evening. He saw red. Plates and glassware were broken, Kaiser's nails going to rip some of the canvases of the paintings that were hung up on the wall. Furniture perched for display suddenly taking on a newer, broken form as he'd punch and destroy them.

"A date?! A motherfucking date?! What the hell?!" he had shouted as another plate made contact with the wall, shattering it into pieces. "(Y/N) doesn't go on dates?! What the fuck is this! Who the hell is this shithead, even?!"

In his fit of fury, thoughts of all kinds had raced through his mind, and Ness had to use all of his strength to make sure Kaiser didn't hunt to the poor soul that you had a date with down. Thankfully, you had called him later that night and asked to go to his place, telling him your date had stood you up.

Peace be upon him. Ness had never seen Kaiser more serene after he ended the call with you, a content smile on his face despite the destruction around him.

Either way, you made Kaiser's body weaker with just the presence of you around him. And nothing made Kaiser hate himself more than feeling weak, hating how he was reduced back to that small child on the kitchen floor, staring up helplessly at a monster that he was half-created from. Your very essence made his core tighten and a heat bloom all over his cheeks, something that sickened him.

So he hates you. He hates you unbelievably so much for being able to bring him to his knees so pathetically, begging for your attention and your care and savoring every bit of it when you did grant it to him and only him.

Yet a twisted sense of shame would linger to him whenever he was reminded of your existence—as though you were his kryptonite.

He thinks this is the worse it's ever been—now that you and him are fully grown adults where maturity has blossomed something within you. You look more beautiful than usual lately, Kaiser notices. You're more confident and headstrong, your wit a little quicker. An aura of radiance seems to glimmer from you and you just have this magnetic pull that attracts many people toward your direction to both Kaiser's pride and disdain.

In a sinister sense, Kaiser wants to keep you all to himself. Wants to keep you trapped in his hold and keep you caged so he can admire you alone, away from prying eyes that might have similar intentions. No one should deserve to have such a beauty in their life, let alone gaze upon it. He's God's chosen emperor, only he should be allowed to have such a pretty, loving thing at his side.

But he can't obviously. You wouldn't be okay with it. And as much as Kaiser takes great pleasure in seeing faces of despair and misery from those he wants to bring down, he doesn't like it when you get upset at him. Loathes it, even, when you disapprove of something he does. You'd scold him for something small and he'd do everything in his power to reverse your disappointment, showering you in expensive gifts and lavish experiences to make up for it. It was pathetic, really, how quick he was to beg for forgiveness without even uttering the word "sorry."

He hates you for making him so vulnerable, for showing him a side of himself that he doesn't want to acknowledge. But he can't seem to push you away no matter how hard he wants to try to. Because he knows at the end of the day, he'll come crawling back to you in some manner.

You blink blankly at his irritated face, raising a brow at such a statement.

But you nonchalantly shrug, used to Kaiser's peculiar behavior. Surely something from earlier must've pissed him off, which is why you leapt to your feet when he essentially commanded you to come over, his bossiness and urgency clear in his tone over the phone call.

"Whatever man," you sigh, shoving your way through into his apartment without a care in the world. "Tell me something new for a change."

Kaiser opens his mouth to respond, brows furrowed, and ready to tell you to piss off and get the hell out, not wanting to be around you any longer, but words dissolve on his tongue when he watches you whistle a tune and unpack the package of food you bought along the way on the kitchen island. It's an oddly domestic scene that brings a solace back to him.

You hold up a plastic container, its contents making Kaiser's eye grow wider.

"Look," you cheer, opening up and holding a stick of seasoned bread crust. "Even got your favorite!"

He swallows thickly, feeling that weakness come to his knees again when you give that dazzling smile of yours. Call him a masochist, but even though Kaiser hates the way you make him feel like this, he can't help but savor in its pain oddly enough.

So he's here now. A few years later, officially your boyfriend after years and years of torturous pining in which the end of it came from what was essentially him spatting out a confession, on the rooftop of an ancient Parisian building with a white carpet before him as he stands on end of a white carpet. The other side of it, the elevator to the rooftop.

Blue rose petals that mimic the tattoo on his neck scatter the area with a flower arch stretching over the small stage he's on. The Eiffel Tower oversees the entirety of Paris, its lights glowing amidst the evening sky. The breeze is just perfect, Kaiser just hopes everything else will go according to plan as he stares intently at the elevator.

"Ness, it feels a little tight..." you mutter, trying to tug at the blindfold that covers your eyes.

"But you can't see anything, right?" Ness asks as his grip on your shoulders stays firm.

"No, but—"

"Good!" he retorts happily. "Don't worry, we've only got a few more floors to go."

Your lips warble. You feel as though this is somehow a weird murder set up Ness has planned for you, possibly waiting for the right moment to just shove you off the building while you weren't able to see. He always did happen to hold a small grudge against you, after all, since he had to practically fight for Kaiser's attention whereas you got it so naturally.

"Where's Micha?" you ask as the floors continue to ding out from inside of the elevator.

"Somewhere," Ness singsongs out, making the feeling in your gut churn.

You stay quiet, trying to think of an escape plan to get yourself out of this mess, but suddenly you hear the elevator doors shift and feel a cool breeze.

"Watch your step now," he says from behind you, lighting pushing you forward while making sure your heel didn't get caught in the little gap of the elevator and its doors. He promised that Kaiser that everything about tonight had to go right, and if he dared to mess up anything, Kaiser would have his head. Ness is sure Paris still has some guillotines leftover from the Revolution somewhere in the Palace of Versailles or deep in the catacombs, so Kaiser would surely find a way somehow.

So Ness, ten times more attentive than usual, gently leads you out of the elevator and onto the rooftop.

"Where are we?" you ask him, your head turning around rapidly to try and examine your surroundings despite the black blindfold. " Are we outside?"

"Leave us be, Ness," a familiar voice says.

Ah, there he is. The heavy feeling on your chest suddenly lifts, letting you breathe a little easier now that you know that your life has been spared from Ness's hands. Kaiser's voice, though it may bring impending doom to many, somehow had the ability to ease you and your worries. Perks of him being your boyfriend and not your enemy.

Ness goes to unravel the blindfold from your eyes, letting the warm glow of the many candles before you light up your field of vision. He leaves promptly, going back down the elevator and leaving you alone with the blurry figure some meters before you. Your vision clears eventually, and the scene unfurls before you much more vividly.

There stands Kaiser at the end of a magnificent carpet that tells you to come his way, dressed in a dark blue button up and black slacks with matching dress shoes. Ever the handsome fellow, you softly smile at him as you walk slowly down the carpet, never breaking eye contact with him.

It was good to make you wear white for tonight, Kaiser thinks to himself as he gets hypnotized by the way your dress flows behind you. This almost feels like practice to what's to come.

"This doesn't look like a dinner," you say softly as you take Kaiser's hand to help you up the platform.

"No, but it's something much better," he replies, a tightness in his voice that he tries to hide. "I hope."

"You hope?" you repeat, clearly amused with a singular brow raising.

"It's all going to depend on you, so don't ruin it for the both of us," Kaiser grumbles before you snort out a laugh.

Getting a hint of what's to come, you allow him to take your hand and watch as he gets down on one knee before you.

Kaiser strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, bringing it to his lips and kissing your knuckles softly, all the while gazing at you.

"You're the only person that's able to bring me to my knees, you know that?" he professes quietly.

You can feel a hitch in your throat when you nod, a heat forming on your cheeks.

Kaiser pauses for a bit before continuing.

"I hate you. You know," he states all too simply.

"Yes," you sigh gently, thinking about all the times that Kaiser spewed out the words whenever he got even mildly annoyed with you. "You make it very aware."

He chuckles, and you can't help but laugh as well.

"But I hate you for a good reason. You make me weak, you make my head spin with every action you do, with every word you say," continues Kaiser eventually. "You know me better than I know myself. And I don't know whether it's been in each other's lives for so long or... or if I just get so vulnerable around you."

You bite your lip in apprehension, trying to regulate your breathing when the words just flow from Kaiser's lips as he pulls out a white ring box from his pocket.

"I want to feel that way around you forever, even if it might kill me," Kaiser declares. He slowly opens the ring box to reveal a handcrafted ring that glimmers with a large sapphire gem in the middle whose blue hue reminds you of someone all the familiar. "I want you to keep making me feel so stupidly small, to keep putting me in my place when I need it. And I want to relish in it forever, just as long as its you. I want you all to myself, because only you, (Y/N) (L/N), can do this to me."

"Micha," you choke out his nickname with a voice just slightly above a whisper. The way he looks at you so dearly makes you want to burst into tears. You don't think anyone else has ever looked in your direction is such an adoring manner.

Kaiser takes a deep breath, his nerves easing themselves to a balance as he swallows his concern away, letting himself linger in the moment.

"Will you marry me?" he asks you tenderly.

He thinks that the tears that cascade down your perfect face gives him all the answer he needs, but his heart nearly leaps out of his chest when you whisper back,

"... yes."

a/n ; ITS DONE !!!! oooohhh i'm so tired asdfllksadfk my ass hurts from all the sitting

but hi if you've made it this far! im thinking of making a part two to this with a couple of more characters, but wow i will not lie this took some life out of me lolol but regardless! thank you for reading, reblogs and comments are always noticed and appreciated (っ´ω`c)♡ !!

[5sospenguinqueen]

Tastes Like Gin | Max Verstappen x Best Friend! Reader

Summary: Max turns 27, and his best friend surprises him with a birthday party. Unfortunately, a few shots from his fellow drivers gives Max more confidence than he expected.

Warnings: Fluff. Friends to lovers.

Requested: No. Just a birthday piece

F1 Masterlist

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

redbullracing just posted

liked by schecoperez, christianhorner and others

redbullracing so many max memories 🎂 here’s to 27. happy birthday 

2,331 comments

christianhorner happy birthday, champ

f1 happy birthday, max

user not rbr only using pics of max in team gear

user waiting (not so) patiently for yn’s bday post because she posts the softest pics of max 

user i love how this post is just fans complaining about max’s car

→ user it’s ‘cause all the drivers will be waiting for yn to post 

user here’s to hoping for more wins when the autumn break is over

user have a purr-fect day 🐱

yn_ln just posted

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and others

yn_ln happy birthday, maxie. no matter how old you get, or how many records you set, you’ll always be the goofball that peed in my paddling pool. happy 27th 🧡🦁

5,533 comments

user yn’s yearly dose of humbling

→ user she always posts the most ego destroying photos of him

→ user as a best friend should 

maxverstappen1 i was 5! and you promised you would stop bringing that up

→ yn_ln was i drunk when i made this promise?

→ maxverstappen1 yes…

→ yn_ln then you know it doesn’t count

→ maxverstappen1 for my birthday this year, i’d like a new best friend

→ yn_ln already bought your present and i can’t refund it. soz

danielricciardo why have you posted two pics of him with his tiddies out

→ yn_ln you mean you don’t like the vertiddies? i’m blessing the mv1 fan base

→ redbullracing and my timeline 

→ yn_ln see

landonorris 27 years means 27 shots

→ yn_ln only if you’re taking him home at the end of the night. he can puke in your bathtub 

→ maxverstappen1 that was one time! and tbf, i’d just won my first wdc 

→ charles_leclerc why do you keep desecrating this woman’s water features

lilymhe ew, is that a man?

→ yn_ln i’m only friends with him for his money, i swear! you’re the only one for me

→ user um, haven’t you been friends since you were kids

→ yn_ln it’s called playing the long game. i could tell he was going to be rich since he was little

→ maxverstappen1 i can’t tell if i’m insulted or complimented 

maxverstappen1 added to his story

yn_ln added to her story

landonorris added to his story

landonorris replied to maxverstappen1’s story wow. what a gorgeous date → i still think you should set us up → maxverstappen1 fuck off → landonorris with a sight like that, i thought you’d be in a better mood

maxverstappen1 replied to yn_ln’s story i can’t believe you pulled off a whole surprise party without me knowing → you’re phenomenal  → yn_ln you’re not mad at me for ruining our nice, quiet evening like you were expected  → maxverstappen1 no. i get to celebrate with all the people i love → and we still had our quiet dinner just the two of us → i can’t believe you’ve done all of this for me → yn_ln i’d do anything for you 

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

Tangled in the white bedsheets, you realised you hadn’t changed out of your dress from the night before. Max’s old hoodie, a 33 above the breast, covered the top-half of your frame, providing some semblance of warmth and comfort. Head propped up on the pillows, you squinted at the bright screen in your hand. Blinking furiously, you couldn't tell if the pounding in your head was from the lack of sleep or the disbelief at what you had done. A friendship of over two decades ruined in a single night. Thumb swiping at the screen, a wave of shame washed over you as you scrolled to another post. And then another. 

Another image. Another angle. Another trending tweet. 

All of them accumulated in one place, screaming at you. For years you had buried the feelings you harboured for your best friend. Shoving them deep down below the surface, hiding them under quick-witted remarks and fleeting touches. He had never shown even an inkling that he returned the way you felt. Laughing it off when the other drivers questioned the nature of your relationship. Shoving you at Lando when he joked he’d “take you off his hands”. Asking you for fashion advice a few hours before a first date. And you had endured it all, in order to remain under the light of his platonic love. In one night, you had torn down the wall you had sloppily cemented together. 

The shrill sound of your phone pounded against your skull, piercing through the destructive thoughts. Blurry images of his face pressed against yours were replaced by a professional photo. Max’s face grinning back at you, his cheek smushed against the sliver of your face caught in the edge of the photo. Another night. Another celebration. A very different ending. 

“Why are you awake already?” You muttered to yourself, looking at the contact picture filling up your phone. You thought you’d have more time. More time to think of an excuse, to plan a lie, to pretend you knew nothing about it. 

About his face going viral, her body going viral, the pair of them connected going viral. 

“Morning, old man.” You answered, attempting a light-hearted tone. “I thought you’d still be passed out.”

“I tried,” grumbled Max. “But my phone wouldn’t stop blowing up.”

“That’s odd.”

“Uh, huh. You been on Twitter this morning?” 

Silence fell. You didn’t know how to respond to that with a clear voice. Max didn’t need you to. He could read your silence almost as well as your words. 

“Did that really happen?” 

A sting shot through your chest. Here came the let down. “Well, it can't have been a very memorable kiss if you don’t remember it happening.”

A false laugh echoed down the phone. Max’s eyebrows scrunched together and the unspoken pain. 

“I remember every second of it,” he said vehemently. “I just thought I was dreaming again.”

You didn’t hear his words. Already having prepared your next line. Say the words before he can. That’ll make them hurt less. 

“It’s okay. I know they didn’t mean anything. You were just drunk. I’m sorry it’s gone viral. I can’t imagine the kind of PR mess this will be.”

“No! No, I wasn’t. I mean, I was intoxicated, sure. But, not drunk enough to do things I didn’t mean-” 

“Max, it’s okay. I get it. Nothing will change between us because you had a few too many G&Ts. I’m happy to speak to PR with you and see how we can fix this-.”

“Will you just stop?” Max demanded, voice too loud to both your sensitive ears. He winced as you fell silent, sharp intake of breath filling his ears. “Stop trying to brush this off as nothing. Yes, Charles filled me with shots, and I was more easygoing than normal but I remember every. second. of. that. kiss. You had a cocktail umbrella tucked behind your ear, and Alexandra’s lipstick mark on your cheek. Lando had stolen your hair clip so it was down and loose, just how I like it. I was intoxicated but just enough to give me the courage I didn’t have before.”

“You tasted like gin,” was the breathless reply he got.

“What are you doing this morning?” Max asked, desperate to break the heaviness between the two of you. Desperate to hear your usual answer after a night out; ready for him to take you for a greasy breakfast to mop away the alcohol. 

He could hear your smile - picture it in his head - when you said, “Waiting for you to pick me up, of course.” 

“I’ll be there in 20.”

“Make it 30. I have terrible morning breath.”

Max’s laughter eased the tension in her body. “Maybe this time you’ll taste like mint.” 

maxverstappen1 just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, alex_albon and others

maxverstappen1 the best birthday gift this year 

6,333 comments

yn_ln i love you 🧡 i can’t wait to spend many more birthdays by your side

→ maxverstappen1 mijn hart

redbullracing finally. we’ve been waiting for this to happen since abu dhabi 2021

→ user rbr so real for that because the way he grabbed her. i fr thought he was going to kiss her there and then

→ maxverstappen1 i wanted to

landonorris but i got you personalised gaming headphones :( 

→ oscarpiastri and i got you the ultimate guide to minecraft

→ danielricciardo yes but neither of you got him laid. yn did

→ yn_ln daniel! 

→ charles_leclerc i got him drunk enough to kiss her. does that count?

→ yn_ln no! 

→ maxverstappen1 yes

→ yn_ln you guys suck

→ landonorris sounds like that was your job

→ yn_ln @/redbullracing @/mclaren @/scuderiaferarri pr training for all of them!

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

Requests are open. Coming up;

Drunk and flirty Toto

K Mag Part 2 ‘cause it seems I’ve converted some of you

[queen-of-the-avengers]

An Enigma

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: angst, blood, threat of violence, unwanted touching, harassment

Summary: You and Bucky are in an arranged marriage set up by both your parents. It’s a way to keep the peace between your two families. You thought Bucky didn’t care for you, but when someone from your past comes back into your life, Bucky makes it known that all he ever thinks about is you.

Square Filled: au: no powers (2024) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

You step into the kitchen but keep to the wall in intimidation. Your husband is standing there with his back to you. He’s shirtless with only a pair of slacks on. You’re not sure what is more hot. Him being shirtless or dressed in a three-piece suit. He has his phone to his ear so you don’t dare interrupt him, scared of what he might do or say to you. It’s not that you’re scared he’ll beat you, it’s just that he’s always so stoic and rarely shows his emotions.

There’s something you want to ask him but you’re scared of what he’ll do when you ask it. He’s your husband for god sake. Just go up to him and ask him! Your inner personality isn’t as scared of him as you are. You wouldn’t be this way if you had married him out of love. No, this marriage was arranged by yours and his parents. You were forced to be his wife, so you’re not even sure he loves you much less likes you.

Still, your marriage meant a truce between your family and his, but that doesn’t mean he stopped hating your family.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to come in and say something?”

You snap out of your own thoughts and look at Bucky who is now facing you. His shirtless back is almost as delicious as his shirtless front, but you’re too nervous to appreciate the sight in front of you.

“I just wanted to ask you something.”

Bucky looks you up and down, studying your behavior and body language. You’re jumpy, your hands are sweaty and shaky, and you can barely meet his eyes for more than five seconds.

“Why do you look so scared?” He smirks. “I won’t bite.”

“My dad called.” His smirk is lost. “He’s having a family dinner next week. He wants both of us there.”

“I see.”

“I’d be really happy if you came. He won’t try anything, I promise. They’ll be on their best behavior.”

“Okay,” Bucky says after a moment.

“Wait, really?”

“You’re my wife. If my father-in-law is asking for dinner, then so be it.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you. It’s next Friday.” You take out your phone. “I’ll let him know you’re coming.”

You turn to leave but Bucky’s voice stops you. “One move.”

“What?”

“If he tries one move, my knife will be lodged in his throat.”

Your eyes widen but you hear the threat loud and clear. You nod and scurry off before he can make any more conditions. Your father is part of one of the biggest crime families New York has ever seen. He has power in every single corner of his jurisdiction. No one can do anything without him knowing about it. Bucky’s family is the other family that has ties to mafia dealings, making them just as powerful as your family.

Both families split New York in half, but they’re constantly fighting over drugs, property, clubs, money, etc. If it can be used to manipulate and exert power over people, both your families are greedy for the taking, especially if those businesses live on the border of both jurisdictions.

One day, your father met with Bucky’s father about a truce, something they both will want to agree to. This was when your mother was pregnant with you, but he loves to tell the story so you feel like you were practically there. If you were to marry Bucky, then both families would be able to come to agreement on those petty fights.

A truce would be made. The cost? Your freedom. Any children that you may will bear will be part of the biggest crime family this country has ever seen.

When you were old enough, you met Bucky through a family dinner. He came off as stoic, cold, and calculating. He didn’t let anything get under his skin. Then, his nieces and nephews joined the party and he became a different person. His hard resolve started melting, giving you a show of who the real Bucky was. It’s different when he’s in front of business partners and your family, but you have a good idea of who the real Bucky is.

He’s a mystery, something you’re desperate to solve.

To prepare for the dinner, you decide to go to the gym and hopefully shed a few pounds. You’ve always loved doing cardio, so the treadmill became your best friend. You go so often that the front desk lady knows you by name.

“Welcome, Y/N. Have a good workout.”

“Thank you, Betty. I will.”

You walk over to the treadmill and start with a walk to get your blood pumping. You put your headphones in and listen to your favorite podcast. You listen to all sorts of things when you work out but lately, it’s been about the podcasts. You’re an hour into your workout when someone touches your shoulder. You take out your headphones and look back to see someone you never thought you’d see again.

“Vince. What are you doing here?”

“It’s a gym. I’m working out.”

You look him over and notice he’s not sweaty or red. If he’s been here as long as you have, he hasn’t been working out.

“Right. I’ll let you get back to it.”

You’re about to put your headphones back in when he steps onto the treadmill next to yours. He leans over and rests his elbows on your handlebars, and you immediately stop your machine. It’s a good time to call it a day.

“I came over here to say hi.”

“I should get going.”

You step off the treadmill and walk over to the cleaning station to grab some paper towels when you feel him standing behind you. You used to feel so safe with him but that all changed when your father discovered a hole in your wall that came from his room which was right next door. He was your bodyguard, supposed to protect you from creeps, and ended up being one. He was truly a pervert.

The only reason why your father didn’t kill him was because you didn’t want to deal with it. You convinced him to just fire him, so he did. Now he’s back but you’re not sure why. Your father made it very clear that if he tried to come near you again, he would do more than fire him. You turn and find him standing closer than he should be.

“What do you want, Vince?”

“Just to talk. I’ve become better. I’ve worked on myself. I’m ready to go back to work.”

“Excuse me?”

“I want to be your bodyguard again.”

“Like hell, that’s going to happen. You shouldn’t even be here. This isn’t even your gym. Just go home.” You step around him to clean your machine but he grabs your upper hard harder than normal. “Ow, you’re hurting me.”

“Oh, sweetie, you have no idea what pain is. I’ll do more than hurt you if you don’t give me my job back. I’m a good bodyguard. I kept all the creeps away from you.”

“Yeah, except for you. Let me go.”

He does but he doesn’t move away from you. You have sensitive skin so you know you’ll have bruises on your arm from his grip.

“Don’t be so shocked if one day you find me inside your house. I know you don’t have a bodyguard now.”

You don’t need one. You have Bucky. He’s very possessive and protective over you. You’re not sure what he’s going to do when he finds out about this, but you can imagine it’s not going to be kind. Crew cleaning your machine. You drop your supplies and rush out of the gym in a panic. During the ride home, you think of ways to lie to Bucky. He’s going to take one look at your face and know something is wrong.

You’re a terrible liar, but you can’t think of anything because you’re too scared. Scared to the point of tears. Maybe if you sneak inside and run to your room, you’ll be able to calm yourself down enough to come up with a convincing lie.

You park in the garage and rush inside knowing Bucky has cameras and sensors for when someone enters the garage. You’re about to book it up the stairs when you run smack into Bucky’s chest.

“Where’s the fire?” He sees the panicked look in your eyes and immediately becomes on alert. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Just an intense workout. I’m going to take a shower.”

You go to leave but Bucky grabs your arm in the same place as Vince did. You wince and he lets you go immediately thinking he hurt you. His eyes narrow on the bruises Vince let, and the fire in his eyes tells you he’s not going to believe anything but the truth.

“What. Happened.”

You have no choice but to tell him the truth before you get in trouble for lying.

“Before you, I had a bodyguard. He was caught spying on me through a hole he created in my bedroom. He was fired and my father made it clear never to bother me again. Well, he was at the gym. He… threatened me… saying I shouldn’t be surprised if I find him in this house because I don’t have a bodyguard now. He… wants his job back.”

“Okay.”

Bucky moves around you to go to the garage but you jump in front of him and put your hands on his chest. He looks calm but you know he is fucking pissed. It’s taking all of your strength to keep him from entering the garage.

“Bucky, stop.”

“If you think I won’t pick you up and move you out of the way, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Bucky, please. I will bring this up to my father tomorrow at dinner. Please let my family handle this. He worked for my dad. He should deal with it.”

Bucky looks down and he sees the desperation in your eyes. It doesn't do shit to calm him down but he backs away knowing this is what you want.

“Fine.”

Bucky retreats to his office for the rest of the day. Before you know it, Friday has come and you’re walking up the steps to your father’s mansion. You’ve been dreading this moment since the gym but you know you have to tell your father about this. Bucky was supposed to ride with you but you hadn’t seen him all day.

“Oh, sweetheart! I’m glad you’re here!” your mother says when you walk into the house.

“Hi, mom.” She pulls you in for a crushing hug. “You just saw me last week.”

“I know, but it feels like a lifetime. Where is Bucky?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure he’ll be here. He said he would.” Your father walks in and you smile when you see him. “Daddy!”

“Princess,” he smiles.

You bounce over to him and hug him tightly. He’s a very tall and muscular man but he has always been gentle with you. You’re his princess. You’re his only daughter, so he takes your health and well-being very seriously. You have six brothers but he’s not the same with them as he’s with you. They’re just as scary as your father. You’re not sure why you ever needed a bodyguard when you had six living at home with you.

You join your family in the dining room and greet your brothers. The family butler brings out the food until there is a plate in front of everyone. You look beside you at the empty chair and wonder where Bucky is. He’s supposed to be here. He said he would. If he had to work, he would have told you.

“So, Y/N, when am I getting grandbabies?”

“Mom!”

“I’m not getting any younger over here.”

“You have grandbabies. Tony and Luke both have children. Gio has one on the way.”

“None from you, though.”

“Okay, well, when I get pregnant, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Where is Bucky?” Stefan asks, shoveling food into his mouth as he speaks.

“Stefan!” your mother scolds. “Don’t eat like an animal.”

“Sorry, mom,” he says with his mouth full.

“I don’t know. He said he’d be here. He’s probably caught up with work.”

Once your brothers are finished with their meals, they eagerly go for seconds. The dining room is filled with chatter about people’s plans, kids, and trips they have coming up. You never talk about work while you’re eating. That’s reserved for after dinner and always over a glass of top-shelf whiskey.

Suddenly, all chatter ceases when someone walks into the dining room. Bucky. Only he’s covered in blood. Blood stains his nice suit and spatters his smooth skin, but he acts as if he has nothing on him. His hands are clean though. He sits next to you and accepts the food the butler brings. He takes a bite of the meat and moans at how good it is.

“Is it taken care of?” your father asks.

“Yes, sir.”

Chatter returns as normal as if Bucky isn’t covered in fucking blood. Even your brothers don’t seem to care that blood is now on the table. Your mother doesn’t care that blood is getting on her nice white dining chair. You lean closer to him and grab your napkin. You grab his chin and start wiping the blood from his cheek.

“What the hell is the matter with you? Where were you? Why are you covered in blood? Whose is it?”

“Vince.”

Now everything makes sense. He must have called your father to tell him what you told him who then told your mother who then told your brothers.

“I told you I’d handle it.”

“He touched what’s mine.”

“Excuse me?”

“He touched my wife.”

You throw the napkin down knowing it’s useless. “Last I checked, Bucky, you don’t own me.”

“No, you but own me.” Your eyes widen in surprise. “I’d do it again and again to protect you.” He grabs your chin with his clean hand and kisses you. He pulls away from you and wipes away the drop of blood he got on your skin. “Eat.”

It takes you several seconds to wrap your brain around what just fucking happened. You grab your fork and take a bite slowly. Maybe there is some warmth to that cold heart.

x

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[atlabeth]

geyser

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: percy learns about the first girl luke castellan ever loved.

a/n: this is a lil sad. sorry about that. but i really like it and it came out of nowhere in like 2 days so i hope you enjoy despite the sadness. title from the mitski song

wc: 6.5k

warning(s): major character death; not shown but hangs over the whole fic. angst made angstier by fluffy flashbacks. mostly told through percy’s pov but includes luke, annabeth, and reader povs

also if you saw this before on another account DONT WORRY... that account was also me. im just doing some stuff behind the scenes right now as i figure stuff out lol i promise no plagiarism is going on

Percy thought that his head might explode. 

He didn’t know how he was still walking, honestly. His mom died, he killed a— no, the— Minotaur, all the Greek myths were real and his dad was one of them, and now he had to deal with that freak accident with Clarisse and the toilets. 

At least he would be ready next time she tried to beat him up. Percy had been the new kid enough to know there would be a next time.

All he could do was stare at the Minotaur horn in his hands, the only sign that what happened outside the border was real. The horn in his hands and the hole in his heart. 

Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d been thrown into the deep end, and the only thing on his mind was when he would start to drown. 

“Hey.” Percy looked up to see the counselor he’d met earlier with Annabeth—Luke. He tossed a ziploc bag at him and he caught it, taking a moment to look at what was in it. 

“I stole you some toiletries from the camp store,” he explained. “Thought it might make you feel more at home.” 

“…Thanks.” He didn’t know if Luke was joking, but the damage had already been done. And it was the nicest thing someone had done for him so far. He set it down next to his Minotaur shoebox. “Is this the best that it gets?” 

Luke’s lips quirked up in a slight smile. “For now. We’re a little crowded, if you couldn’t tell.” 

“Just a little bit.” Percy stood up from his sleeping bag and worked out the knot in his shoulder. “Where’s your bed? Assuming you have one.” 

“I couldn’t wrangle all these cats without some back support,” he said, and he pointed to a bed in the corner. It was the only one on its own without a bunk, and he had a fair amount of decorations. Counselor privileges, he figured. Percy walked over, Luke trailing behind him. 

“Nice place,” he said. Percy picked up the Yankee’s cap on his bedside table and nodded as he looked back at him. “Nice taste.” 

“It’s for Annabeth,” Luke said. “She wanted us to match.” 

Percy nodded again in approval. “Good taste for both of you.”

Luke had various other things around — an alarm clock knocked over next to the baseball cap, a huskie sticker on the wall half-scraped off, a poster for an album he didn’t recognize. 

But the thing that caught his eye was a polaroid hanging on the wall, surrounded by a smattering of others varying in size. 

The first one had to be an old picture—Luke didn’t have his scar, and the biggest smile stretched across his face. He had a girl close with an arm slung around her waist, and she might’ve been smiling even more than Luke. A bright energy emanated around her, something that must have transferred through the picture, because Percy found himself feeling a little better just looking at her. He wondered if she was a camper. 

His eyes flicked to the next picture, which was another one of Luke and that girl. They were both laughing as she tried to put a blue hat on Luke’s head, and he protested with a hand on her wrist. They were in the forefront of a baseball game, Percy noticed.

There were other pictures, too—Luke, a girl dressed all punk, and what looked like a young version of Annabeth, most notably—but a majority of them were either Luke and that girl, or the girl all on her own. In every single one, she beamed brighter than the sun. 

Percy pointed at the picture of Luke and the girl at the baseball game, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Who’s that?”

That seemed to catch Luke off-guard, his lips parting for a moment as if he wanted to say something. It barely took him any time to get back on track, but Percy found himself frowning. 

“That’s…” Luke cleared his throat, wet his lips, shook his head. “A friend. A very good friend.”

“Does she go here?” Percy asked. 

“She did.” 

He frowned. “Where is she, then?” 

“Percy—” Luke’s voice was strained, but he didn’t really notice as he went on. 

“I didn’t see her around,” he continued, “and you look pretty close.” 

Luke blinked a couple times, and Percy swore he could see the telltale glimmer of tears starting in his eyes. A muscle worked in his jaw, and suddenly Percy was worried that he’d said something horribly wrong. He had a talent for that, it seemed. 

Fortunately, he was saved by the bell—conch shell?—and something like relief flooded through Luke’s expression. Tension still coiled in his body. 

“Come on,” he said, that camp counselor smile coming back as he put his hand on Percy’s shoulder and guided him away from the enclave. “That means dinner’s about to start.”

Percy’s frown deepened as curiosity won out again. “Was she your—”

“You don’t wanna be late,” Luke continued, ignoring his attempt. “I assume you’re pretty hungry after two days spent out?”

Well, that only made him want to push harder. But Percy figured he wouldn’t get anything out of him—especially not now. 

“…Yeah,” Percy said. “Starving.”

An odd look flickered across his face, but again, it only lasted for a second before he was back to normal. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Eleven! Fall in!” 

Percy was at the back of the line by virtue of him being the new kid, and he found himself looking back at that picture of Luke and the girl. He didn’t know why, but something drew him to her. Before Percy could think about it more, the line was moving and his growling stomach drew his attention away. 

He would have plenty of time to ask Luke about it later. 

Or rather, ask him and piss off the only person who’d tried to be his friend so far. 

…Gods. 

Maybe he was going to drown sooner than he thought. 

-

“Luke—” 

“No!” 

“Luke, please!” 

“Annabeth will kill me if she knows—” 

“She won’t know!” 

“Alright, alright— stay still, you two!” 

Your mother laughed from behind the camera as you and Luke fought with each other, you trying your damnedest to get your Red Sox cap on his head as he tried his damnedest to stop you. The frantic laughter on both sides made it a little difficult for either of you to succeed in your quest, but eventually, you got the rock up the hill and the hat on his head. 

“Take the picture, Mom!” you exclaimed, pulling Luke even closer by his arms so he couldn’t get it off. “I need the proof!” 

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Luke groaned, staring at the camera as you wrapped your arm around his side and leaned into him. He could already imagine your victorious smile, brighter than the sun beating down on them in the stadium, and just the thought of it made one of his own flit across his lips. 

“Oh, shut up, Castellan,” you said. “You chose to come to this game. Everyone’s gonna know you’re a Red Sox fan now.”

“You said you wouldn’t tell her!” Luke defended, wrenching his arms free of your control to take the hat off his head. “I don’t even care about baseball!” 

“You care so much about it,” you said cloyingly, “and you’re ride or die for the Boston Red Sox.” 

“If you say a single word—” 

“Okay, kids!” Your mother pointed at the seats next to her. “The game’s about to start—you can keep arguing, but only if you sit down so I can see.” 

“Sorry, Mom.” You grinned at her as you pulled Luke over to your seats—they were a step up from nosebleeds, but they were the ones closest to the balcony so you could at least peer over the railing down to the diamond.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” She glanced at Luke with a smile, and he could really see where you got it from. “We’ve gotta make him a fan somehow.” 

“I guess I can live with the brand.” Luke set the cap back on your head once you were seated, purposefully pulling the brim a little over your eyes, and he smiled at you. “Even though it looks better on you, anyways.” 

“You just don’t have what it takes to be a Red Sox fan in the heart of Yank territory,” you mused, pushing the hat back up so you could see. “It’s fine.” 

Luke rolled his eyes, but he could hardly bite back his smile. 

“I am glad you came, though,” you said, glancing back at him. “I’m glad you came with me in the first place. This is gonna be the best semester.”

“Thanks for having me,” Luke said. “It’s… it’s been a while since I’ve left camp.” 

“Fingers crossed for no monster attacks, eh?” You held up your hand. “At least, not during the game. I could live with it happening any other time.” 

“Don’t speak it into existence,” your mom said. “We’re going to have a monster-free school year.” 

To humor her, you made a claw over your heart and pushed out. She hummed in satisfaction, and you looked over at Luke. “It’s gonna be fine.” 

“Yeah,” he said. “Because two kids like us aren’t gonna draw any attention.” 

“Oh, I know we will,” you said. “But I know it’ll be fine.” 

Luke frowned. “How can you be so sure?” 

You shrugged with a smile. “I’ve got you.”

And in that moment, he was thankful for the freakish heat that honestly made no sense in the spring—at least it covered up any sign of what your words did to him. 

Luke thought you were joking when you asked him if he wanted to come back home with you for the school year. He didn’t know why you wanted to go back in the first place, being a Big Three kid that apparently had a death wish, but the thought of him leaving camp was almost inconceivable. 

Even after you assured him you weren’t joking, he still wasn’t sure. He was on the run with you for three years, then… 

Well, he couldn’t think about it for too long. But Luke had been on the outskirts of regular society for so long, doing nothing but fighting for his life, that he didn’t know if he could actually function at a normal school.

But it felt right for you two to get some normal time together after you were separated for so long. It took him a semester to decide, but one day during your usual Iris message conversations, he told you he’d love to spend the rest of the year in Boston with you. Luke still remembered the grin you wore, your disbelieving but victorious cheers, the apology you yelled back at your mother for your noise. 

Luke watched you as you talked with your mom, discussing Boston’s chances and player statistics and baseball jargon he didn’t think he’d ever understand, and he knew he would sit through a thousand Red Sox games if it meant he would get to keep seeing your smile.

You must have felt his eyes on you, because you glanced over at him. “Are you okay?” 

Luke smiled. Gods, he was so glad you were here. 

“Never better.” 

-

“That one nearly got me,” Luke said. 

Percy huffed as he picked up his sword from the ground—he was pretty sure he would officially lose his mind if Luke disarmed him with that stupid move one more time. One benefit to the Hermes cabin being too scared to associate with him after getting claimed was that he wasn’t making a fool out of himself in front of other people. 

“Maybe I can only beat you when I pour water on myself,” he said. 

Luke chuckled as he took a bottle from the cooler on the side and held it up. “Wanna try?” 

He shook his head. “I think my arms will fall off if I keep going with you.” 

He tipped his shoulder. “Fair.” 

Percy stared at the ground as Luke gathered himself, trying to put the free range thoughts roaming around his head in order. It didn’t help that he’d gained a million questions after Poseidon claimed him, and it didn’t help that there’s been a newest addition to his dream last night. 

He still felt strange asking Luke about it, but he had to know more about her. Percy didn’t know why it felt like his mission to find out who this mysterious girl was, or why he felt that strange connection to her. Maybe it was the way Luke acted whenever he brought her up, maybe it was that she’d popped up in his dream next to him at the very end, maybe it was just plain old curiosity. 

“I’m not supposed to be alive,” Percy said, breaking the silence. “I could die at any time in a bunch of different horrible ways. So will you tell me more about that girl on your wall?”  

Again, Luke seemed to be caught off guard by it. Percy heard the crunch of plastic as his hand clenched ever so slightly around the bottle, and he tried to cover it up with an arched eyebrow. “Why do you want to know so badly?” 

He shrugged. What was he supposed to say? 

“I’m curious,” he decided. 

Luke huffed a dry laugh before he took a sip of water, and he stared off into the distance for a while. He did a lot of staring whenever this girl was brought up. They looked like they were best friends in those pictures, but maybe whatever they had ended badly. And if she was a demigod too…

Well, it would make sense why he didn’t want to talk about her. 

“You know that phrase about curiosity?” Luke asked. 

“And how it killed the cat?” 

He nodded, drinking some more. “It goes double for demigods.” 

“Everything else wants to kill me,” Percy said. “So curiosity’s gonna have to get in line.” 

Luke’s laugh was a little more genuine this time, and he shook his head. “I guess I can tell you a little about her. You actually probably have a right to know.” 

“Is she a half-blood?” Percy asked immediately. 

He nodded. “Yeah.” 

“Who’s her parent?” 

Luke capped his water bottle and looked at Percy for a good, long moment. His face glowed in the warm afternoon sun, his scar cast in a softer light than usual. The scar used to unnerve him, but he’d gotten used to it after weeks staring at it during sword fighting. 

“She was a child of Poseidon, Percy,” he said. “Just like you.” 

Percy felt short of breath, like Luke had just knocked his sword out of his hand and shoved him to the ground. But he stood on his own two legs that somehow still worked, and Luke hadn’t moved. 

He had a sister? 

“I have a sister?” 

“…Had,” Luke corrected. “She… she died a few years back.” 

A vice latched onto Percy’s heart. He was still having a hard time breathing. No wonder Luke always used past tense when he was talking about her. 

He had a sister, he wasn’t alone, but he was because she was dead. And if Luke was one of her friends, that meant she died young. 

Gods. 

“What about their oath?” Percy asked, trying to ignore the aching in his chest. “I’m already on thin ice for my whole existing thing. How did Poseidon get away with two kids so close to each other?” 

Luke shrugged. “I’ve never known why gods do things. Her mother was a great woman, though—I could see what drew Poseidon to her against the oath.” 

One half of Percy wanted to ask every question that kept popping into his head. The other side of him wanted to break down and cry. 

“How did you meet her?” 

“We ran into each other when we were both young,” he said. “Both child runaways, both demigods, both New Englanders—we decided to rough it out on the road together. Couldn’t be any worse than doing it on our own.”

Percy tried to imagine it. A young Luke and a younger version of that girl—maybe Percy’s age—living together in the wilderness and fighting monsters. Surviving off of nothing but their wit and skill, facing death each day before they’d even reached middle school. 

“It… it didn’t happen then, did it?” he asked hesitantly. 

Luke shook his head. “Couple years later. All we did was watch each other’s backs out there.” 

Percy couldn’t help himself. “What happened to her?”  

“The same thing that happens to everyone,” Luke said flatly. “There’s a reason I’m the oldest one here.” 

“That doesn’t make it better,” Percy insisted. “It— it makes it worse, Luke. You see that, right?”  

Luke stared at his empty water bottle then tossed it back into the cooler. When his gaze met Percy’s, he was shocked by how… tired he looked. Beyond exhausted—bone-weary. Percy wanted to say more, but he didn’t get the chance. 

“This isn’t good conversation,” Luke said, “and it’s getting late. You should hit the showers before dinner.” 

The sun still beat down on them, bright and angry in the sky, but Percy provided no argument. He had a lot to think about. 

Before they went their separate ways, Percy stopped and looked back at him. “I’m sorry she’s gone, Luke.” 

Luke’s gaze went unfocused for a moment, his eyes growing glossy. “So am I.” 

-

Percy sat on the floor of the Hermes cabin in the corner that used to be his, staring at his meager belongings. He had to decide what to take on his quest, which was made easier by the fact that he hardly had anything to his name. Things could always be worse, though. At least he would have a change of clothes. 

He should’ve been doing this in his own cabin, but it felt too empty, too suffocating in its silence. Eleven was still more familiar. He heard the door open and saw Luke walk in, and his eyes lit up when he saw Percy. 

“Hey,” he said. “I wanted to see you before you left. How’re you feeling pre-quest?” 

“Like the world’s about to end,” he said. 

Luke’s lips twitched into a smile as he sat on the bed across from Percy. “Understandable. It kinda is.” 

“It’s just overwhelming.” Percy shoved the unfolded clothes into his backpack. “I have to clear mine and my dad’s names and get Zeus’s bolt back, or else war will start. No pressure at all.” 

“You were chosen for a reason,” Luke said. “You may not see it, Percy, but you’ve improved a lot since you got here. If anyone can do this, I think it’s you.” 

Percy looked up at him, and he was reminded of the way their last conversation went. He was asking before he could really stop himself. 

“I could die on this quest and never see you again,” Percy said. “So could you tell me more about my sister before I go?”  

Luke smiled wistfully and sighed. “You really won’t let this go, will you?” 

“It’s not really something you just let go,” he said. “Besides, I… I saw her in my dream last night.” 

Luke’s smile faded. “You did?”  

Percy nodded. “For a split second, but I know it was her. I felt the same way I did whenever I looked at her pictures. And… it’s the second time she’s shown up.” 

He let out a long sigh and shook his head, his gaze trailing off to the wall. He always looked so much older when he talked about this girl, like he was a war veteran reminiscing on his lost love. And from what he’d gathered, it might not have been too far off. 

“I told you we ran together when we were young,” he said, and Percy nodded. “We were both nine, and it should’ve been terrible, but she had a way of making everything better. Always found the bright side of things, was always able to make me laugh.” 

“She was from Massachusetts—right in the middle of Boston.” Luke chuckled as he looked at Percy. “Huge Red Sox fan.” 

Percy grimaced. “We all make mistakes.” 

Luke smiled, though it faded a bit. “We got separated for a while, but we found each other again when I got to camp. Things were more peaceful than they are now, so she’d been claimed at camp pretty quickly. I figure Poseidon wanted her to have the protection of him openly standing behind her after what happened.” 

He frowned. “What do you mean, ‘what happened’?” 

Luke shook his head. “That would be an awful story to send you off on.” 

Percy wanted to protest, but he didn’t. Luke was probably right—Percy didn’t want to make him relive it and then have to go on a death quest right after.

“A happier part, then,” he suggested.

“She ran away from home as a kid to protect her mom, but now that she had an idea of what she was doing, she started going back to school. She invited me to stay with her during the school year one year, and I accepted. That—” Luke’s throat bobbed, and the other hand clenched into a fist— “that was when she died.” 

In his stunned silence, Luke got up and went over to his alcove. He pulled the drawer open on his bedside table and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. It must’ve been folded and crumpled a million other times in messier ways by all the creases he could see, but when Luke opened it, he could see handwriting all over the front. 

A letter. 

“We Iris messaged each other constantly while she was at school,” he said, “and we wrote back and forth when we couldn’t. This was the last letter she sent me.” 

Percy’s first instinct was to say he wouldn’t be able to read it, but he realized that he didn’t really care. These were words that his sister wrote—he would sit here the rest of the day forcing sentences to make sense if that was what it took. 

So he took the letter when Luke offered it. 

To the one and only Luke Castellan, 

My mom said yes! After a very long interrogation (she now knows basically everything about you) and a million promises that you would be as careful as possible and that you were good enough at sword fighting to take down anything that could come after us, she said you can spend the year here. We spent a couple hours every day making my mom’s study into a guest room, so you have a place to stay.

I’m an idiot that didn’t bring enough drachmas so that’s why I have to send this letter—hopefully it gets to you soon enough, because we’re gonna come get you a week before my winter break is over. Mom is letting me drive down because she says I have to get my permit soon. It makes sense that my first big test is getting to you. If we don’t make it, it’s because we died in a fiery crash. 

Just kidding. I’m a great driver. But tell me some of your favorite songs when you reply and I’ll burn a CD for the ride—I figured out how to use LimeWire. Oh, and throw in a couple drachmas with the envelope so I can Iris message you next time. I miss your face and your voice, and my hand is cramping up writing all of this. 

But this is so exciting! I can’t wait to introduce you to all my friends at school, and show you my favorite places in the city, and make you into a Red Sox fan. And you can come to my soccer games— I’m the greatest forward there is. 

Jokes aside, I’m going to make sure you have the best time. We’ll spend every second together, Luke. We’re gonna make up for the time we lost. 

I can’t wait to see you again.

Your hurricane.  

It took Percy a long time to get through it with the words swimming all over, and it didn’t help that his vision had grown blurry. 

Tears, he realized as he blinked, and he did it again to make sure they wouldn’t fall. He couldn’t cry in front of Luke, not over a girl he didn’t even know—even if she was his sister. But maybe he was grieving that—the fact that he would never get to know her. 

“God, man. I— I’m sorry.” Percy couldn’t think of anything else to say. “She sounds like she was great.” 

Luke couldn’t even manage a smile this time as he stared at the wall. Percy was surprised he could even talk to him about it. 

“She was,” he murmured. “You would’ve liked her. And gods,” this time, a bit of a smile broke through despite it all, “she would have loved a little brother.” 

“I’m gonna make her proud on this quest,” Percy vowed. “I’m gonna clear our dad’s name for her.”

Something in Luke’s gaze had changed—sadness, almost regret. “You’re a good kid, Percy. I hope your quest doesn’t change that.” 

I hope I come back alive, he wanted to say. But given the topic matter, he didn’t. Percy carefully folded the letter back up and handed it to Luke. 

“Thank you for telling me about her, man,” Percy said. “I… I know it can’t be easy.”

Luke let out a shuddering breath as he stared at the closed letter—Percy wondered how many times he must have sat in this same position, reading her words. “No better way to honor her memory than helping her brother.” He glanced at Percy. “I see a lot of her in you.” 

He’d been wondering if he had anything in common with her. Percy felt a sudden flare of anger shoot through him—it wasn’t fair that she was dead. Poseidon was a god, and she was a teenager. He should have saved her. 

Percy’s mouth was drier than a desert. A part of him wanted to curl up in a ball and sob over the sister he never got the chance to know, but the other part of him knew—from what little Luke had told him about her—that she wouldn’t want him to. 

“I should get going,” Percy said, standing up from the floor. “We have to leave for the quest soon, and Annabeth and Grover are probably wondering where I am, and…” 

Percy trailed off, and Luke nodded in understanding. He turned around and took one of the photos off the wall—one of you alone in the middle of a park, wearing a bucket hat and absolutely beaming. 

“You deserve to have a part of her with you,” he said. “For good luck.” 

He felt himself choking up, and he pushed it down as he accepted the photo. “Thanks, man. It means a lot.”

“Good luck, Percy,” Luke said. “You’ve got a lot of people rooting for you.”

Percy found himself studying the picture of you once he made it outside, trying to memorize your face. With your wide, infectious smile that emanated pure sunlight, he could have mistaken you for an Apollo kid. But when he looked at you, he got that same warmth that he felt every time he imagined his father. 

“I won’t let you down,” he murmured. “I promise.” 

-

After sleeping in his train seat for half the day, Percy vowed to never complain about his bed in Cabin Three again. He was gonna be going down to the Underworld with permanent cricks in his neck. 

Grover was still sound asleep—Percy envied him for how easily it came to him in the worst conditions—but thankfully, Annabeth wasn’t. Her gaze was focused on the view as their train chugged along. 

Percy cleared his throat in a flawless attempt at getting her attention, and it worked. 

“You’re awake,” she said. 

“Unfortunately.” Percy sighed. “How much longer do you think it’ll be?” 

“Another day, at least,” she said. “And we’ve got a layover in St. Louis.” 

“St. Louis,” he hummed. “Nice.” 

They sat in silence for a while—there wasn’t much to talk about when they were coming off of two— or was it three, now?—near-death experiences. But eventually, Annabeth cleared her throat, taking a page from his book, and it worked again. 

“There— there’s probably something you should know,” Annabeth said, and that worked even better than clearing her throat. “You’re not the only Big Three kid to come through Camp Half-blood lately.” 

“I know,” he said. “Grover and Luke explained it.” 

Her eyes widened slightly and she leaned forward in her seat. “Luke did?” 

“…Yeah. You all already told me about Thalia.” Percy glanced away, suddenly feeling a chill in the train car. “Luke told me about my sister.” 

Annabeth went silent. 

“It’s okay,” he said. “I kind of annoyed Luke until he told me. Doesn’t really seem like a subject people at camp like to talk about.” 

“I’m just surprised he did,” she murmured. “They were… they were close, Percy. Her death destroyed him—Thalia and your sister. All of it’s complicated.”  

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I got some of that.” 

“I only knew her for a year at camp, but everyone loved her,” she said. “She was nice. Popular. Always helped when she could, always had the biggest, most infectious smile on her face.” Annabeth looked down at her hands. “She didn’t deserve the fate she got.” 

Percy didn’t think he’d ever grieved so much for someone he never knew. “But her and Luke—were they…?” 

“Yeah,” Annabeth said, “they were a thing, later on.” 

That seemed to be all she wanted to say on the matter. Percy decided not to push. 

“How did you meet her?” he asked. 

Annabeth’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I met her on the day I thought I would die.”

-

For the first time in her life, Annabeth Chase couldn’t think. 

It had all happened so fast. One second she was running with Luke and Thalia and Grover, praying to her mother and any other gods that would listen to make the horde of monsters let up even a centimeter.

The next, she’d collapsed on the ground, never so grateful to have grass and dirt and dust in her face. But she could hear Luke yelling, barely able to make it out in her delirious state—she didn’t know when she’d last had a sip of water, and they’d been running for at least three miles—but he sounded hysterical. 

She remembered her last clear thought: they weren’t going to make it. 

But they had. They had, so why was Luke losing his mind? 

Annabeth pulled herself up from the ground—how long had she been bleeding out of those slashes on her arm?—and looked for the rest of her friends. Luke wasn’t yelling anymore, instead arguing with someone she didn’t recognize in a bright orange shirt. Grover’s furry legs trembled as he stared down the hill they’d just gotten up, completely silent, and Thalia— 

Where was Thalia? 

Annabeth tried to get up but her legs gave out almost immediately, and steady arms caught her before she could fall to the ground again. Kind eyes served to ease some of her panic—she was older than Annabeth, maybe around Luke or Thalia’s age. 

Thalia— 

“Hey, you’re okay,” the voice said, and Annabeth’s attention was drawn back to you. “I’ve got you.” 

“Where’s Thalia?” she blurted out, because now she couldn’t think of anything else. 

Your brows creased and you glanced back down the hill—Annabeth did too, and she saw Grover and Luke arguing with each other. Or rather, Luke was yelling at him as Grover anxiously hooked his hands through his hair. 

“I don’t know,” you said, “but right now, I need to make sure you’re okay. Are you hurt?” 

Annabeth absentmindedly held up her arm, but she was only focused on her friends. Why wasn’t Thalia with them? Why was Luke so upset?

You cursed under your breath in Ancient Greek as you cradled her arm, and you looked back down the hill. Annabeth could see at least half a dozen other kids. 

“We’ve got two half-bloods and a satyr, one injured!” you yelled back. “Get Molly and Brayden!” 

“Three,” Annabeth found herself saying. “There’s three half-bloods—” 

“Annabeth!” 

Her head shot up at the sound of Luke calling her name as he bounded over, and her eyes widened at the blood steadily spidering across the fabric of his shirt. 

“Luke, you’re hurt—” 

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “It’s fine.” 

“We have Apollo kids coming,” you said, looking up at him, still cradling Annabeth’s arm. “We’ll get y—” 

Your sentence stuck in your throat, and Annabeth could see tears welling in your eyes as your brows furrowed. She thought Luke’s eyes might burst out of his skull as he stared at you, his lips parted but nothing coming out. Neither of you were able to form words. 

When he finally did get something out, it was a single name. One Annabeth knew by heart, one that he’d mourned for years. 

“Luke?” you whispered. 

Before he had the chance to do anything, two teenagers got over the hill and called out your name, the same one Luke used. He always said you were dead, but you clearly weren’t dead, because you were here and you had her arm in your grasp and while your hands were cold, they weren’t cold enough to be dead— 

“Molly’s gonna take care of you,” you said, looking back at Annabeth and cutting off her inner dialogue. “She’ll get you to the infirmary and heal you up, okay?” 

“My friends—” 

“They’re gonna be okay too,” you said. “I promise.” 

Annabeth looked up at Luke, and he nodded. “We’ll be with you soon, Annabeth. We— we have to talk about some things.” 

So she went with Molly down the hill, and Annabeth put pressure on her bleeding wound when she told her to—it had started to sting like hell now that her adrenaline was fading. 

She looked back just in time to see you and Luke share the tightest hug ever. 

The hug of two people who realized they weren’t seeing ghosts, Annabeth thought. 

-

You bolted up in bed, eyes wide and your chest heaving as you rapidly sucked in air. Your fingers found purchase in your bedsheets, desperate for something familiar—it took a second for you to recognize your surroundings, that you weren’t in an endless void, but your childhood bedroom offered little comfort.  

You ran a hand over your forehead, damp with sweat, as you tried to calm down. Your breathing slowed, but you couldn’t shake that awful feeling that hung over you in your sleep. 

Your nightmares were getting worse, you knew that much. That raspy, demented voice used to be a rarity, and now it appeared every night. You could usually deal with your nightmares, but the sense of absolute dread that voice and the pit fostered in you was too much. You hadn’t managed to sleep through the night once since you came home for the school year.

You could deal with the monsters—to you, this was the worst part of your godly blood.

A knock rattled on the door out of nowhere, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. The only thing that calmed you down was the thought that monsters didn’t knock. 

“Come in,” you croaked, your throat drier than a desert. 

Thankfully, a monster hadn’t come to make your night even more miserable. Luke stood in the doorway, his eyebrows creased in concern, messy curls hanging just above his eyes. He wore the Red Sox t-shirt you’d bought for him at the game you dragged him to, and in your addled state, you didn’t even think to tease him about it. 

“Are you okay?” He should’ve been as disoriented as you, but his alerted eyes told a different story. 

You could only think of one thing. “How did you know?” 

Luke’s lips parted for a moment, as if he hadn’t even considered it. “I could just feel it.”

You managed a smile despite every atom in your body screaming at you. “I think that means you can come in.” 

He closed the door behind him, and you shifted over in your bed to make room for him. There wasn’t much in a twin, but you made it work. Luke’s weight pressed into the mattress, making you adjust your position, and it was more comforting than any amount of blankets. 

“You’re so cold,” he murmured, laying the back of his hand against your arm. “How do you live like that?” 

“Blame my dad,” you said. “I’ve got water in my blood.” 

“I think that’s probably a bad thing,” Luke said, and you knocked your shoulder into his with a huff. 

“You know what I mean.” 

Luke let his hand fall back in his lap, and as you brought your knees up to your chest, you pulled the covers with them. 

“So,” Luke said, glancing at you, “what’s got you awake at the witching hour?” 

“The usual,” you mumbled. 

“Nightmares that might be prophetic?” he asked. 

You made a lazy gesture with your hand. “Bingo.” 

“The worst sense of dread imaginable?” 

“Bullseye.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

You shrugged. “It’s nothing I can’t deal with.” 

“You don’t always have to put on a front, y’know,” Luke said. You felt his eyes on you. “You don’t always have to be strong.” 

“I’m naturally strong,” you said with mock austerity. “Comes with the god for a dad.” 

Luke chuckled and shook his head. “You know what I mean.” 

“Yeah,” you murmured. 

You leaned into his side, fitting your head into the crook of his neck. Luke wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer, and you let out a contented sigh. 

That voice in your nightmares seemed so small when you had Luke. 

“Can you stay?” you asked softly. 

He didn’t hesitate. “Of course.” 

“Just like old times,” you whispered. 

“Just like old times,” he agreed. 

Luke ran hot, and you’d never been more thankful for it as you fully settled into his side. Icy blood ran through your veins, and you let out a shaky sigh. You could hear his steady breathing, feel his heartbeat through his chest, and the anxiety from earlier began to steadily fade. You never felt safer than when you were with Luke. 

There was something between you—you weren’t that stupid—but you hadn’t talked about it. With you and Luke, it was just… you and Luke. You didn’t have to put a label to it. 

How could you put a label to your relationship, when you’d spent your first few years together fighting for each day, and then the next few thinking the other was dead? 

Maybe someday, you would talk about it. But for now, this was more than enough. 

“Don’t worry,” Luke murmured in your ear as your eyes began to droop. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” 

And by the gods, you believed him. 

[delusional-day-dreamer]

U My Everything - p.b

‣ paige x grumpy reader: part two here!

‣ wc: 3178

‣‣ synopsis: paige's harmless joke is taken a little too personally by her sensitive and grumpy girlfriend; slight angst? but very fluffy by the end! (the song is most relevant for the end part of the fic as it's inspired by KK's 05/31/24 live, can u tell I live for uconn lives?)

‣‣‣ a/n: I'M SORRY, i know y'all chose emily in the poll but I alr finished this one and I've promised myself I would try to release at least one fic a day; emily's will be out very very soon, writing smut for the first time is just very nerve wracking lmao. this is lightly based off the, good morning gorgeous, tiktok trend going around rn; Also, I'm so sorry for the amount of times I use y'all, like, literally, and really because I try to make my dialogue and what not as realistic as possible, but as a Southern Californian they're literally engraved into my vocabulary 😭😭.

Rolling over in bed half-conscious, your arms reach out, patting around the bed in an attempt to locate your girlfriend's warmth without having to open your eyes. However, to your sheer disappointment, your fingers are met with cold, rumpled sheets on Paige's side of the bed.

Now fully conscious with confusion as to how your girlfriend managed to slip from bed without you realizing, the pounding in your head became all the more severe as you sat up in bed, frustrated that the one person who could comfort you simply with their presence was nowhere to be found.

With your right hand massaging the temple, attempting to soothe the deep ache that had settled into the front portion of your head, your left hand blindly felt around your nightstand for your phone, knowing Paige wouldn't have left you alone in bed without so much as a simple text message. But to your surprise, her name was absent from your list of notifications.

Even more annoyed than before, you forced yourself out of her bed, stumbling your way to her adjacent bathroom, wincing at the sudden intrusion that was fluorescent lighting. By the time you began brushing your teeth, you heard the front door open, hearing Paige call your name as she entered the dorm.

"Bathroom," you yelled out to her, despite your head screaming at you to shut up and crawl back under the safety of Paige's comforter.

"Hey baby," Paige greeted as she entered the bathroom while you spit toothpaste into the sink, coming up behind you to hug your waist, resting her head on your shoulder. As you stood back up to meet her gaze in the mirror's reflection, you saw her tuck her bottom lip into her mouth, clearly trying to hide her shit-eating grin.

"Well don't you look... interesting this morning," she teased, the sarcasm apparent in her low voice. You knew her mocking was all in good fun, the two of you often poking fun at each other for little things. But perhaps it was the headache still waging war in your skull, or the final three midterms you had to take later today, or your remanent annoyance at having to wake up alone, despite her knowing your favorite part of the day was waking up, warm and all loved up in her arms, or perhaps it was the fact that looking in the mirror, you genuinely looked wrecked this morning.

Your curly hair was reduced to nothing but a puff of frizz overnight, sticking out in all directions, your eyebags particularly prominent this morning, combined with the pesky anxiety breakout that had settled into your forehead a few days prior, you just couldn't handle her jokes today.

"Yes, thank you for pointing that out Paige," you shot back, setting your toothbrush back in its cup holder, exiting her hold to wipe your hands on the small towel before pushing past her to get dressed in her room.

Paige followed close behind you, curious as to why you were giving her so much attitude so early in the day, especially over such a harmless statement.

"What's up with you, this is the first time I've even seen you this morning," She questioned from her seat on the unmade bed as you began changing your clothes with your back facing her, which was another thing that struck out to her as odd. After dating for over a year now, the two of you were incredibly comfortable with each other, and it was rare for you to completely turn your back on her, even when changing.

"Nothing, I'm just not in the mood today," you grumbled, tugging your, her, sweatshirt over your head. Heading over to her floor length mirror with your makeup bag and necessary hair products in hand, you settle down on the floor in front of it, convinced to improve your appearance a bit before you head off to your exams today. Still ignoring Paige's presence in the room, you began getting ready.

Hearing her scoff as you started applying your makeup, she got up and began making the bed, intent on ignoring your bratty mood until you fixed it. You knew you were being petty and acting bitchy to your girlfriend, who had technically done nothing wrong, you just couldn't force yourself to drop the attitude. By the time you finished your makeup and smoothed out your slickback, you managed to go the entire twenty minutes without so much as looking at your girlfriend through the mirror, who had now perched herself on her side of the bed, scrolling mindlessly on her phone.

Your headache hadn't subsided yet, but now that you were more awake, you had gotten used to the throbbing sensation. Making your way over to your side of her bed, you collected your phone, headphones, watch, school bag, and other items from your nightstand and around the area to get ready to leave.

"Your heading out already? You still have over an hour before your first class," Paige finally addressed you, putting her phone in her lap to look at you as you packed your things.

"Yeah I'm gonna head to the library early so I can review before my first midterm," You answered, speaking to her normally for the first time in the last hour she had returned.

"But what about breakfast, you're not gonna be able to concentrate and stuff when you're all hangry," she said, only slightly teasing you with her statement.

"I'll just grab something to eat from the coffee shop next to the library, I was gonna stop by and get matcha from there anyways," you responded, a small part inside of you glad that despite your attitude, Paige made sure that you were well taken care of.

"Dude I still don't understand how you drink that stuff, tastes like straight grass," she had dropped her concern and switched back to joking, her automatic setting. "But I guess it's fitting," she continued, "cause yk, cows just love their grass," she sighed, holding back her laughter at what she thought was a brilliant joke.

In her defense, if it was any other morning, you would've joined in on her teasing, either mooing at her in response or poking fun at her in return.

But today, it just ticked you off even further. I mean, you were clearly already in a bad mood, stressed the fuck out, hangry (but Paige didn't need to know she was right), and the sharp pressure in your head was only getting worse. Plus, Paige had already easily finished off her midterm exams two days prior, which meant she didn't truly understand why you were so worked up over your exams. And the worst part, your bloating and exhaustion really did make you feel a little bit like a cow.

“P I'm just not in the mood to deal with you right now," you sighed, exasperation laced in your tone. "I already feel bad enough this morning, I can't handle you piling more onto my plate, I'll see you later," you barely even said goodbye to her properly as you gathered your stuff, put on your shoes, and left her dorm.

The second you closed her door behind you, you could feel the pit forming in your stomach, full of regret and shame. You knew it was unfair to be so rude to Paige when she was just trying to lighten your mood, but your anxiety always caused you to last out at anyone who tried to help you. You made a mental note while walking to your favorite coffee shop to apologize and make it up to her when you saw her in the evening, after the stress from midterm week had diffused and your raging headache calmed down.

***SMALL TIME SKIP***

You were flipping through your study notes and flashcards while listening to one of Paige's playlist on the lowest volume possible when you saw your phone screen light up from next to you. Deciding it would be good to take a quick thirty second break, you reach for your phone and matcha latte at the same time, clicking on the text message you received from Paige.

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

From P 💜:

I'm so sorry for making fun of you this morning baby, I know you're stressed about your tests today and I had no intentions of making you feel worse with my jokes, I just wanted to cheer you up a bit because I know how bad your anxiety can get. Good luck on your test today killer, i love you 🤍.

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

Shit, now you really felt bad for snapping at her earlier today. All remnants of your misplaced anger had long since disappeared, now replaced with embarrassment. She was right, your anxiety was hitting you hard today, but that was no excuse for bitching out your girlfriend just for trying to improve your mood. You quickly hearted her message and began typing out a short response, as you knew you needed to apologize in-person for your behaviour.

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

To P 💜:

Thank you so much P, I'll see you later tonight baby. I love you too 🤍

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

***SMALL TIME SKIP***

You breathed a sigh of relief as you finally reached the floor of Paige's dorm room, exhausted from your long and mentally tiring day of midterms, but you were finally done, your headache was finally gone, and you now had the weekend to relax and spend time with your girlfriend.

As you reached for your keys in your pocket, you heard the loud commotion of voices that you recognized to be KK, Aubrey, Sarah, Allie, and Paige in the living room. It wasn't uncommon for the girls to be over, as the team always spent hung out together outside of practice, and since you started spending more time at Paige's dorm, you had quickly stocked her near bare kitchen full of snacks, baked goods, and home-cooked meals the girls loved to steal.

You entered the living room greeting everyone as you took off your shoes, making a beeline straight to where Paige was sitting on the couch. You stood in between the space of her legs, wrapping your free arm around her shoulders to lean down and plant a kiss on the top of her head.

"Hey P," you spoke softly, looking down at the small smile that had settled on her face.

"Hey yourself, how were you midterms? Today was your last day right?" She questioned as her fingertips began running up and down the back of your legging covered thigh.

"They were fine, I think I did good on majority of them. My math midterm was a little shaky, but not too bad yk?" You answered her quietly, afraid to pop the little bubble of peace you two had created around yourselves among the chaos of the living room's occupants.

"I," you began, as your hand had made its way to the front of her face as you pushed back a small piece of hair that had escaped out of her bun. "Will you come in the room with me real quick?" You asked her, practically whispering at this point.

"Yeah of course baby," she answered quickly, letting her hand travel up your body to rest at the small of your back as she stood up, leading you past everyone to her bedroom.

"We'll be right back," she announced to the group as the two of walked by. "Oooo, Paige is in trouble," KK sang out as the two of you reached her closed room door, Paige still standing behind you. She turned the knob quickly, gently pushing you into the room first as she turned around to stick her tongue out at KK before she closed the door.

By the time she turned around from the door to face you, she barely had a moment to adjust to your body barreling into her, as you had already dropped your bag off next to her desk. She quickly wrapped her arms around you, being able to sense that you just needed to be held for a minute before speaking.

She lightly rubbed your back and shoulders with her hands, knowing exactly what it was that immediately calmed you down. You stayed silent in her comforting embrace for a few more minutes, having craved her touch all day when you were around campus.

"I'm sorry," you finally spoke up, unburying your head from her chest to look her in the eyes. "I was really rude to you for no reason this morning. My headache when I woke up and all the stress I had was completely unrelated to you, but I still ended up taking it out on you," you sighed before continuing, "I really appreciate the fact that you were trying to cheer me up this morning, even though I was being a total bitch. And you are never a burden or someone who adds more onto my plate, I love you and I'm so sorry I said that to you, I would never want you to feel that way and-" as your eyes began to well up with tears, the last of your apology was cut off by Paige.

"Hey hey it's okay baby," she pulled you slightly away from her as the tears began flowing from your eyes. "I know you," she maintained eye contact as she reassured you, "And I know you would never act like that normally, you are not a bitch. You were just stressed out and not feeling well. I understand, and I promise I'm not mad at you at all," her right hand moved up from your back to your face, wiping the tears streaming down your face.

"Thank you P, I have no idea what I would do without you," you sniffled lightly, your hand coming up to wipe your face as well. "I love you so much, you have no idea," you professed.

"I love you too y/n/n," she whispered as her hands wrapping around your waist as she pulled you into her, leaning down slightly to kiss you. Your hands flew up the moment your lips connected, one cradling her jaw while the other rested on the base of her neck. The kiss was slow and languid, an apology met with forgiveness as your lips moved together.

The loud rumbling of your stomach, interrupted your sweet moment with Paige, forcing the two of you to separate as a giggle slipped out of her.

"Didn't realize a small kiss made you that hungry for me," she smiled, now at peace knowing that you were no longer upset. "Shut up," you smiled back, lightly hitting her chest as you broke away from her. "I am for real hungry though, but I need to shower first," you told her as you moved around the room, grabbing your towel and a fresh pair of pajamas to change into.

"I'm pretty sure Aubrey is ordering Domino's so I'll tell her to add in something for you, and it'll probably be here by the time you get out," she kissed your cheek as you went to exit the room, heading for a quick shower as she remained in her room.

***SMALL TIME SKIP***

As you entered the living room, curls freshly washed, a soft pair of Paige's sweatpants resting low on your hips, and a small off the shoulder sweatshirt over your sleep tank top, you witness KK showing her tik tok live her "hips dance", if it could even be referred to as that.

"Oh wow," Paige commented dryly at the sight while getting up from the couch so she could grab her laptop from the kitchen counter. You moved past her to Aubrey's desk, grabbing a piece of garlic knots from the Domino's box she left partially open (i don't think she actually bought any but I'm craving them so i added it in here). You rested your hip against the table, waving at the live while KK queued up Sexyy Red on her Siri.

Everyone knew you and Paige were a couple, when Paige accidentally hard-launched you by posting a cute couples pic on her main instagram story instead of her close friends. But since then, the two of you kept a private but not secret relationship, very occasionally posting together, but fans often saw candids of the two of you on dates or together in the team's lives or other events.

You licked the remaining cheese and butter off your fingers as you watched Paige, KK, and Aubrey dance in front of the camera to "U My Everything", smiling at their so-called dance moves, especially Paige's.

"Man we go together tell them hoes we go together," Paige sang, before doing her little "attitude now walk" move, making you double over with laughter at her with the other two girls.

You scratched the back of your neck as you continued to watch the girls mess around, too tired from your day to join them, but content just from watching them. As the second chorus approached, Paige walked up to your leaned figure on the desk, grabbing your bare waist and pulling you into her as she sang.

"Bae, I love you, you my everything, I'm your main bitch, fuck a wedding ring," you laughed at her awful singing, but you couldn't deny the blush that rose to your cheeks at the thought of her singing you the lyrics while very clearly in the live's frame. "We both in fast cars and we switchin' lanes, when I'm away from you, you always on my brain," she continued, adding in her sassy facial expressions with the corresponding lyrics.

You couldn't help but laugh at her actions, the pure giddiness coursing through your veins was a complete 180 from your mood this morning, and you couldn't help but think there was nowhere that would make you happier than in her arms.

Thank you for reading all the way through! The recent support has been crazy and I appreciate all of you! Should I make a part two to this with smut so r can properly apologize to p.... 😏😏😏

[sturniolothinkr]

sleepy ⋆ matt sturniolo

summary: you’re drained after work, seeking to cuddle matt. instead, you mistake chris for him.

contains: fluff, a bit of jealous!matt, best friend!chris, light cursing, use of y/n.

word count: 968

a/n: based off the ask i sent to @dazednmatthews a while ago :) im sorry if its not good, im still nervous about writing on here 😭

the day felt never ending. you were on your feet the entire day, having to do more than usual at work due to the amount of call outs that happened.

you were exhausted, and feeling very drained overall. you promised matt you would go over there to hang out when you were off, and all you wanted to do was take a hot shower then take a nap with him.

as soon as you made it to your boyfriend’s house after work, you let yourself in and headed straight for his shower before anything else.

the hot water felt soothing against your sore muscles, your eyes shutting as you grew more and more tired. you did your best to hurry up with your shower, washing your hair and body quickly and rinsing yourself off. the sooner you got out, the sooner you could sleep.

once you were done, you shut off the shower and stepped out. you dried yourself off, before hurrying into matt’s room with the towel wrapped around you.

a frown made its way onto your face when you took notice that matt wasn’t in his room like you thought he would be. you figured he was in the living room, so you shrugged it off as you dressed yourself in a pair of shorts and one of his shirts.

as soon as you were done, you tossed the used towel into his laundry basket before you left his room. you rubbed your eyes tiredly as you walked to the living room, hearing the tv playing an episode of spongebob.

there was a sleepy smile on your face as you spotted who you thought was your boyfriend sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone. you plopped down next to him, immediately curling up beside him and resting your head on his shoulder as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

“uh..” chris began, looking away from his phone to look at you then around the room in confusion. “y/n? what are you doing?” he added, his eyebrows furrowing as he was processing what was going on.

you reached a hand up and put your finger to his lips, “sh. tired.” you mumbled, dropping your hand as you let your eyes finally fall shut.

chris let out a quiet laugh, wondering if you knew it was him and didn’t care or if you were just so tired that you thought he was matt. either way, he found it funny and he felt too bad to reject your sleepy state.

he could tell you were very clearly exhausted and must’ve had a long day, so he was letting it slide.

“love you, matt.” you mumbled, your hand holding his arm now.

chris held back the loud laugh that threatened to escape, pressing his lips together as he used his free hand to pat your head. “yup. love you too, y/n.” he replied, knowing matt was going to be so confused when he came back from the store.

it didn’t take long for you to completely fall asleep, your weight leaning into chris as he returned to his scrolling on his phone. he lowered the volume on both the tv and his phone, as a way to not disturb you, remaining unmoving so you could continue to rest peacefully.

about twenty minutes went by, when he heard the garage door opening and the sound of matt’s car pulling in. chris held back his laugh as he imagined the look on his brother’s face, seeing his girlfriend cuddling him instead as she slept soundly.

the sound of matt and nick bickering was heard once they entered the house, footsteps making their way up the stairs.

“no, i’m just saying that-“ matt cut himself off when he rounded the corner and caught view of you and chris together on the couch.

matt stopped in his steps, taking in the sight with an eyebrow raised and the grocery bags hanging from his hands.

“alright, so i must be seeing things cause what the fuck?” he finally spoke up, as chris began to laugh.

your boyfriend set down the groceries as he made his way toward the couch, taking in the view of you cuddling up to his brother with his arm locked in your grip and your head resting on his shoulder. your lips were slightly parted, and it was obvious you were deep in sleep.

“listen, okay, she’s so tired that she thought i was you. i didn’t want to move her or some shit! look at her, she’s so peaceful.” chris began to defend himself, trying to keep his voice a bit quiet.

matt shook his head, while nick laughed from behind him.

“oh, this is so good.” nick said, giggling as he pulled his phone from his pocket and snapped a few pictures.

matt huffed and made his way around the couch to sit down on the other side of you. his hands were on you in seconds, protectively pulling you into his side instead.

a noise of complaint left your lips, a sleepy mumble of “fuck off” coming from you as your comfortable position was being moved by your boyfriend.

that only made chris laugh harder, as he threw his head back against the couch cushion and clapped his hands together.

your boyfriend hushed you, wrapping his arm comfortably around you. “sorry, baby. i’m here.” he whispered, feeling your body relax as you heard his voice in your half asleep state.

you mumbled something he couldn’t pick up, easily falling back asleep as matt glared at chris who kept bragging about you cuddling him.

“yeah, yeah. enjoy it while you had it. that was the first and final time.” matt stated, his hand gently playing with your hair while a scowl was on his face.

[plethorawrites]

Guys! Clark has started to invade too!!! Anyway, today I was thinking about Smallville Clark Kent (personal go to when thinking about the character) with a new neighbor from the city...

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Clark Kent: Who sees you by the fence, petting his family's horses, and doesn't recognize you, which is odd because he recognizes everyone in such a small town.

Clark Kent: Who quickly realizes from the way you dress to the lack of an accent that you're not just new in town, but from some larger city that probably has apartment buildings with more tenants than the entire town has people.

Clark Kent: Who brushes off your apology for petting the horses, which you'd only done because you've never seen any in real life and couldn't resist how sweet they looked.

Clark Kent: Who watches you insist on going home to unpack instead of keep talking, but runs into you at school the next day and offers to show you around.

Clark Kent: Who you offer a ride home in your car as a thank you for being an extremely patient tour guide.

Clark Kent: Who accepts, under the condition that you let him show you the town too and when you tell him you pretty much have with how small it is, shakes his head and tells you there's a lot of places people don't know about aside from him or a few other kids.

Clark Kent: Who not only shows you his favorite places the next time you're both free, but also says he would be glad to teach you to ride, if you ever wanted.

Clark Kent: Who is thrilled when you take him up on it and spends several hours on a trail with you at a calm pace, keeping close in case anything suddenly spooked your horse. Although they were incredibly good horses so there weren't any problems.

Clark Kent: Who was fascinated by watching you slowly get more accustomed to the town—wearing clothes that were from a local boutique instead of a designer brand, engaging in the rather silly but beloved town traditions, even cutting off some of the friends from the city who you realized weren't really your friends at all after they once visited and immediately started making fun of Clark and his friends.

Clark Kent: Who was surprised at first, when you showed up at his family's door one day asking to help with the animals, but quickly got used to you coming over to help him feed or bathe them, which you claimed was your way of thanking him for the riding lessons but he suspected you just wanted an excuse to be with the animals.

Clark Kent: Who knew you'd fit in with his friends after they got over their own prejudice of you being rude or pretentious because you're from the city and likes hanging out with you with them but likes it just as much, maybe more, when everyone leaves and you're able to stay a bit longer in the barn.

Clark Kent: Who leans out the window next to you, enjoying the breeze as the sun sets and tells you he's glad you moved to Smallville.

Clark Kent: Who sees you shudder from the cold and instantly wraps his jacket around you, conveniently ignoring your blushing cheeks in case he was misreading the situation.

Clark Kent: Who still carefully tucks a piece of hair out of your face—while the voice in head screams not to ruin things—just to see it better and wets his lip while staring at yours.

Clark Kent: Who leans in slowly, waiting for the moment you'd slap him and walk out for daring to try something with you, but only sees you leaning in too.

Clark Kent: Who kisses you for the first time while you're in the barn, wearing his jacket, but promises himself then and there that it wouldn't be the last.

[unriding]

KINKTOBER DAY 15 — IN UNIFORM. kuroo tetsurou x f! maid cafe! reader ﾉ there’s about five minutes left on the clock before your coworker comes back.

contains — semi-public sex, choking (not quite, but just to be safe ^^), squirting, traces of exhibitionism, reader wears a cat costume (but it’s just ears!)

Closing doesn’t typically take you this long. Though it makes sense, seeing as how your shifts lately have been anything but typical. It never is whenever Kuroo decides to pay you a visit.

Actually, it hasn’t been just ‘typical’ ever since the night Kuroo found out about your work. You’ve brought it up to him a couple times, vaguely, before the two of you had officially started dating. Never explicitly. Maybe that’s why he was so intrigued as soon as he saw your uniform in your washer.

“A maid, huh?”

It’s never been the same since then. On some days, he has the time to visit you. Requests that the ‘pretty girl over there’ help him out, and laughs when you’re shoving a menu into his hands with an embarrassed huff. Seeing you like this never seems to get old to him. Sometimes, he’ll tug on your dress to ask for a quick photo to commemorate— like a fan meeting their lifelong idol.

And on other days, your wrists are pinned behind your back— only one big hand needed to hold you still as he fucks you over the same table you served him at only an hour ago. Such as tonight.

“I was almost finished here,” your voice trails off into a breathless sigh when he bottoms out, “y-you’re always so impatient.”

You only hear him sheepishly laugh from above. “Sorry, sorry. Couldn’t wait until you finished up. Not when you had on such a cute costume today.”

Your cheeks heat up through a glare. Cat ears. You remember telling him not to visit you today for this exact reason. Of course, a part of you was already expecting for him to clear his schedule as soon as he caught a glimpse of the embarrassed look in your eyes.

That’s why when he finally came through the doors with a cheeky grin, you weren’t surprised in the slightest. Though it didn’t make serving him as a cat any less embarrassing.

“Someone could see us like this…!” Each word that leaves your mouth comes out unsteady from how deep he reaches inside you with each thrust. It’s a bit hard to breathe— and you’re not sure if it’s because of the heat flooding your cheeks, or if it’s from the way you think you might be feeling him in your stomach.

“Yeah? Let’s hope no one decides to pay my favorite maid a visit an hour after closing,” he lets go of your hands only to loop his arms around your chest and hug you tight against himself, “because you’re already busy. With me, that is.” You feel his lips tug into a smile.

“No. Not that…my coworker— ‘s coming back. I-I could get in.. trouble…!”

Your coworker? He didn’t hear about this. “..Eh? You’re not closing alone today?” Kuroo slows down a bit, chuckling when you whine at the change in pace.

“No,” you push your hips back against Kuroo, trying to urge him to continue anyway, but he slows down more at this, much to your dismay. “I think…. she’ll be back in five minutes. Five minutes max. So…”

A challenge. He understands right away. “Ah, ah, I get it. How mean of you. Only a few minutes?” There’s a teasing lilt in his voice, as if not concerned in the slightest about the time crunch. You know he isn’t.

His fingers dip down and ghost over your clit a second after and your hips buck, a loud whimper slipping out that makes the both of you freeze in place. “Then… better be a bit quieter than that, yeah? We should hurry. I’ll make it quick. Promise.”

“So you,” your mouth falls open when he pulls out, thickness dragging perfectly against your walls until only the tip is inside, and then he slams back inside in one rough movement— ripping a loud gasp from your lungs. “..Just have to hold tight and take it.”

You don’t even get a chance to respond.

Not when he sets such a brutal pace against you as soon as the words leave his mouth. He has your body mapped out, each sensitive spot inside you ingrained in his head and he finds it with ease— only smiles to himself when your hands desperately scramble to grasp onto the table in a weak attempt to keep yourself grounded.

You have to take it all, take every inch of him even when your legs start to tremble and buckle beneath him like clockwork. “Looks like I’m doing good with time,” he laughs, two big hands coming to hold your hips— keep you up for him so he can have his way with you, “aren’t I? Doing so good for me. Keep letting me win this, okay?”

A strained moan is all you can respond with. Not even a snarky comment that you wish you could manage to get out. Kuroo thinks you might be trying to moan out his name, and maybe something along the lines of “too rough!” as well.

A very normal thing for you to say when you’re close. Only means he’s doing good. The hold around your hips tightens, each drag of his cock making it that much harder for you to stay quiet and even harder to fight the tightening knot growing in your core.

The thought of your coworker overhearing the two of you briefly crosses your mind, but you can’t find it in yourself to want to stop. He feels so good— surely she wouldn’t mind. She would understand if she was in your shoes. You’re certain of this.

One hard thrust directly into your spot pushes you over the edge. Your eyes go wide as soon as the knot in your belly abruptly snaps— nails digging into the wood of the table and a loud cry you know you’ll regret later slips out.

“Oh, there she is,” Kuroo’s hand loops underneath you, lands on your throat and pulls you until your back is flush against his chest. “Let me make it a good one.”

He reaches deeper with the angle. You choke on your own voice, hands frantically moving to push against him to ease the stretch and rid of this weird feeling, but you’re not fast enough. “T-Tetsu— ‘s deep!” You yelp, eyes slamming shut before you suddenly start gushing.

You can tell he’s smiling even when you collapse back onto the table with heavy pants. Can tell he’s amused with the way you shift your weight under your arms instead of your legs. “You…..” your chest heaves up and down as you try to catch your breath, “…made me squirt.”

“Just proof that I won, kitten.” He leans down, resting his elbows on the table beside you with a grin. As if the two of you are friends catching up on the latest gossip. “Don’t be mad though. I’ll help you clean up, okay? We still have time. Look.”

Your eyes follow his finger to land on the clock hanging on the wall, and your mouth falls open.

“I was pretty fast, huh? Think we have time for more once I take you home?”

[sushiyuzu]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐀 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄

type: special halloween oneshot

pairing: sylus x fem!reader

cw/genre: nsfw/smut (*mdni)，fluff，romance，tension

summary: when celebrating halloween together, sylus wants to show you how a true dracula indulges in the night 🦇🖤

start to end: 27/10/2024 – 29/10/2024 ᝰ.ᐟ

a/n: hey everyone! i just wrapped up a special halloween oneshot that took me three days and probably more caffeine than i care to admit. it’s a super long read—over 7,000 words! (i think) so, grab your fav snacks, get comfy, and prepare to be entertained. i promise it’s worth your time, or at least that’s what i keep telling myself 💀

happy (early) halloween, and enjoy the read! 🎃

halloween night has finally come, and your heart beats faster with excitement and nerves as you step into sylus’s mansion in your 6-inch heels.

the grand entrance is decorated beautifully, with soft cobwebs and candles flickering everywhere. shadows dance on the marble floor, and you catch the faint scent of pumpkin spice in the air. it feels perfectly festive, and you wonder if sylus is the one who set it all up.

you hope he is.

you take a final look in the mirror. your costume is a stunning female vampire. your dark red dress fits perfectly, hugging your curves, with lace that adds a touch of elegance. the high slit on the side reveals just enough of your leg, and your makeup is bold with dark eyeliner and deep red lipstick. your hair is neat, framing your face. you even added fake fangs to complete the fierce look.

you and sylus had been discussing and planning to celebrate halloween together a few nights back. though onychinus and linkon city were far from each other, the distance felt like a small obstacle in your high-tech world, where the cities glittered with neon lights and transport drones zipped between them.

“we’ll make it special,” he had promised over the holo-call, his figure flickering slightly in the blue light. you could see the excitement in his crimson eyes, even through the hazy, digital screen. he described his plans with that rare spark in his voice, talking about turning his mansion into an eerie, gothic wonderland for the night.

“and i want you there,” he’d added softly, his voice barely a whisper, almost like he feared the city might hear him. “just us, no distractions, no noise.”

you’d laughed, feeling the warmth in his words despite the sci-fi distance between you. “i wouldn’t miss it for anything,” you’d replied, already counting down the hours to leave the metallic bustle of linkon city behind and step into sylus’s world for halloween.

now, as you walk through the mansion, you notice the dim lighting and rich decorations, making everything feel warm but mysterious. paintings line the walls, and antique furniture adds a timeless charm. each corner is dressed up for halloween, from the grand dining room to the cozy living room.

then, you hear footsteps.

sylus steps into view, and your breath catches. he looks absolutely breathtaking in his dracula costume. his black suit fits him perfectly, and a long red cape flows behind him. his silver hair is slicked back, making his red eyes shine even brighter in the candlelight. he has this confidence and elegance that makes your heart race.

“ah, my enchanting vampire,” he says in a smooth, inviting voice. “you look absolutely captivating tonight.”

you can’t help but blush at his compliment. “thank you, sylus. you look incredibly dashing as well.”

he strides closer, his presence both bold and intimidating. you feel a thrill of excitement as he reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “i must admit,” he says, his gaze intense and appreciative. “the sight of you is almost enough to make me forget my role.”

you smile, feeling a flutter of joy in your chest. “i can’t wait to see what you have planned for us tonight.”

he smirks, a playful glint in his eyes. the mixture of confidence and charm in his voice earlier sends a thrill down your spine.

sylus gestures for you to follow him into the grand living room. the space is decorated with elegant orange and black accents, the walls are adorned with gothic decorations: carved skulls, and eerie portraits, and a table filled with treats waits for you. there are chocolate-covered strawberries, ghost-shaped cookies, and a large bowl of punch with floating eyeball-shaped fruits. it all looks delicious.

you smile, looking around at everything. huh, sylus really does have a talent for detail.

“let’s indulge in some delightful treats before the festivities commence,” he says, his voice filled with charm. he leads you to the table, pouring a glass of punch for each of you.

as you snack on the treats, the cozy atmosphere wraps around you like a warm blanket. the candlelight flickers off the walls, creating a magical, mysterious feeling. sylus leans back against the plush sofa, his confident demeanor making him seem both bold and relaxed. he lifts a chocolate-covered strawberry to his lips, and you can’t help but watch as he bites into it, the sweet juices spilling slightly.

“do you know what happened during my first halloween?” he asks out of nowhere, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. you nod, intrigued.

“i was dressed as a ghost—an elegant one, of course,” he continues, his crimson eyes sparkling with mischief. “but instead of scaring anyone, i tripped over my own cape and ended up falling into a pumpkin patch.”

you burst into laughter, picturing the usually composed sylus tumbling into a sea of pumpkins, his serious nature shattered for a moment. “i can’t imagine that! you falling into pumpkins sounds hilarious!” you exclaim, your laughter echoing in the cozy room.

he chuckles softly, the sound rich and deep, making your heart flutter. “oh, it was quite embarrassing. luke and kieran still tease me about it to this day.” his expression turns nostalgic as he recalls the memory, and you notice a rare, softer side of him—a side that allows himself to be vulnerable with you.

only with you.

“i can picture it now,” you say, grinning. “you covered in orange goo and trying to act dignified.”

“not my finest moment,” he replies, but his tone is light, and you can see the amusement in his eyes. “but it did teach me that even a dracula can have a silly side.”

you feel at ease with him, laughing as he shares more stories. each one shows you a little more of his real personality, the layers beneath his calm, mysterious exterior. he has a way of making you feel special, like you’re the only person in the room. with every shared laugh, the connection between you grows deeper, and the rest of the world fades away.

and in that moment, you realized how lucky you are to be spending halloween with him. it’s not just about the costumes or decorations; it’s the way he makes you feel—cherished, understood, and completely at home.

and you love him for that.

“do you like the decorations i made?” he asks, his crimson eyes searching yours.

you smile, realizing you were right.

he made them.

“they’re beautiful,” you reply, looking around. your heart flutters at the thought of sylus’s effort. “everything feels so magical here.”

“that was my intention,” he says, a hint of pride in his tone. “i wanted this evening to be enchanting, just like you.”

as the night progresses, the two of you find yourselves getting lost in conversation. you move closer together on the plush sofa, the warmth between you growing more intense. sylus’s big hand squeezes the soft flesh on your inner thigh, pulling you snugly against him.

you notice his gaze lingers on your lips, and it sends a thrill through you. your heart races, pounding like a drum in your chest. the air around you feels heavy with anticipation, as if the world outside has disappeared, leaving just the two of you in this moment.

sylus leans in closer, and you can feel the warmth of his body radiating toward you. his breath brushes against your skin, warm and inviting. the closeness makes your cheeks heat up, and you can hardly breathe. every inch between you feels charged with an unspoken desire, pulling you together like magnets.

you watch his eyes as they darken with longing. there’s a mix of seriousness and softness in his expression that makes your heart flutter even more. time seems to slow down, and all your worries melt away. in this moment, nothing else matters except the two of you and the unspoken words hanging in the air.

he inches closer still, and you can feel the heat rising between you. your breath catches as his lips are mere inches from yours. it feels as if the whole world has disappeared, and you’re both lost in a bubble of intimacy. you can sense his heart racing as well, matching your own rhythm.

“do you know what happens when a vampire and dracula meet on halloween?” he asks, his voice low and teasing.

“no, what?” you reply, unable to hide the excitement in your tone.

he smirks, a playful glint in his eyes. “they share a kiss under the moonlight.”

with that, he closes the distance, capturing your lips with his. the kiss starts soft but quickly deepens with passion. his hands find your waist, pulling you closer as he kisses you deeper. you can feel the heat rising, igniting every nerve in your body. you melt into his embrace, feeling the intensity of the moment. your hands tangle in his silver hair, holding him close as you kiss him back with equal fervor. the kiss is electric, full of longing and desire, and you lose yourself in him.

after a breathless moment, he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes with affection. “i have always wanted to share this moment with you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

“me too,” you whisper, feeling shy yet excited. you can see the hunger in his eyes, sending shivers down your spine.

“let’s not let the night end just yet,” he says, his tone becoming more commanding. he stands, extending his hand to you. “come, there is more to experience.”

you take his hand, feeling the warmth radiating from him as he leads you deeper into the mansion. he leads you through the dimly lit corridors until you reach a large door. he opens it to reveal a lavish library filled with towering shelves of books and soft, plush seating. the room smells of aged paper and wood, creating a sense of intimacy that draws you in.

“this is my favorite spot,” he says, gesturing to the plush cushions scattered around. “it’s where i come to think,” he explains, his voice softening as he gestures around the room. “it holds my secrets and desires.”

the tension between you thickens as you step inside. you can’t help but admire the way he looks in this dim light, the shadows playing off his sharp features. as you sit together on the cushions,he turns to you, his expression serious yet tender. sylus leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, “a place where we can escape from the world.”

you feel a rush of heat at his words. the tension in the room grows, and you can’t resist leaning in closer. your lips barely brush against his, igniting the fire that has been building all night. sylus responds with a soft growl, his hands finding your waist again, pulling you onto his lap.

he looks at you, his expression serious yet tender. “do you feel the darkness of the night, my vampire?” he asks, his tone lowering as he leans more closer now. “it invites us to embrace our true selves.”

your heart races at his words, and you nod, feeling the thrill of the moment. “i do. it’s intoxicating.”

“then let us indulge in it.”

before you can respond, he pulls you closer, your chest pressing against his. his lips crash onto yours with a passion that ignites the air around you. the kiss is fierce and commanding, leaving you breathless as you melt against him. his hands grip your waist tightly, and you feel the heat radiating from his body.

the kiss deepens, tasting of desire in every movement. sylus’s fingers slip into your hair, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss. you respond eagerly, your hands roaming over his strong shoulders, pulling him even closer. “you make it hard to control myself, sweetheart,” he breathes against your lips, his voice low and thick with need. “but tonight, i want to savor every moment.”

as he pulls away, his crimson eyes darken with longing. the tension crackles between you, thick and electric. “let me show you how a true dracula indulges in the night,” he whispers, his gaze smoldering, a seductive promise in his voice.

sylus leans in again, capturing your lips with a slow, passionate kiss. his hand trails down your side, fingers dancing over the fabric of your dress, sending shivers through you. he takes his time, exploring and teasing, igniting a fire within you that grows with every touch.

every. single. touch.

the atmosphere is thick with desire, and you can feel the heat rising between you. sylus’s lips move down your neck, his breath warm against your skin. you arch your back, craving more of his touch, more of his presence.

“you are exquisite,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and filled with longing. “i want to lose myself in you tonight.”

his words send a thrill through you, and you can’t help but respond with a soft moan. “please, sylus. don’t hold back.”

the intensity between you peaks as he captures your lips once more, and the kiss deepens, and you can feel the heat rising between you. sylus’s big hands roam your body, exploring every curve and inch of you. each touch sends electric shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within. his lips travel from your mouth to your jaw and neck, kissing and nibbling softly. you arch your back, craving more of him, wanting to melt into his embrace.

“you taste so sweet,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire. you feel your cheeks flush, a mix of embarrassment and excitement. the way he looks at you, with those dark crimson eyes filled with passion, makes your heart race even faster.

“sylus,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper. “i need you.”

his eyes darken at your words, a hungry glint flashing in them. with that, he kisses you again, this time with a deeper, more urgent passion. his hands grip your waist, pulling you against him as if he never wants to let go. you can feel the heat of his body radiating onto yours, and it makes your skin tingle with excitement.

the kiss grows more intense, and you lose yourself in the moment. every touch, every kiss, feels like a spark igniting a flame inside you. he presses you closer, and you can feel the hard lines and muscles of his body against yours. it sends waves of pleasure through you, and you can’t help but moan softly into his mouth.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs between kisses, his breath hot against your skin. “i want to feel you, all of you.”

your body responds to his words, a rush of heat flooding your cheeks. you nod, unable to find your voice. all you can think about is the need building inside you, growing stronger with every passing moment.

sylus’s hands move from your waist to your thighs, sliding up and down slowly, teasingly. his fingers press into your soft skin, igniting every nerve ending. you can feel a warmth pooling deep inside you, a desire that makes you ache for him.

“please,” you whisper, the word slipping out in desperation.

he grins, a wicked smile that sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “you don’t have to beg, my sweet,” he replies, his tone playful yet serious. “tonight is ours.”

with a swift movement, he lays you back onto the plush cushions, his huge body hovering over yours, making you feel small. the world outside fades away, and it’s just the two of you in this intimate moment. the tension between you thickens, almost tangible, as he leans down to kiss you again, his lips capturing yours in a passionate embrace.

his kisses grow more fervent, more demanding, and you can feel yourself responding in kind. your hands explore his body, feeling the strength beneath his clothing. the heat between you builds, a fire that consumes everything in its path.

“let go,” he whispers against your lips, his breath warm and inviting. “let me take care of you.”

his words send a thrill through you, and you surrender to the moment. every worry, every doubt, fades away as you give yourself to him completely. you lose track of time as his kisses grow deeper, his hands exploring, igniting every inch of your skin with pleasure.

his fingers then trace along your shoulders, reaching for the shoulder yoke of your dress. he moves slowly, almost teasing, as he slips one sleeve off, then the other, his touch light and careful. his eyes never leave yours, watching you closely. he keeps his gaze on you, his fingers moving slowly down, inch by inch, sliding the dress lower, and down to the ground. the fabric feels cool against your skin, but his touch is warm, steady, and sure.

“such a work of art,” sylus murmurs, his voice low and reverent. his touch gentles, becoming almost worshipful as he bares more of your skin to his gaze. his fingers trail along your collarbone, then down to your breasts.

sylus’s eyes darken with lust as he takes in the tantalizing sight of your cleavage. “oh, i missed this,” he growls softly. his fingers trace the edge of your bra, teasing the soft skin just above the lacy cups. he leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. “so much,” he whispers.

his eyes meet yours, filled with a silent command. his hands move to your back, searching for the clasp of your bra, slowly peels back the fabric, revealing more and more skin, inch by inch. once your bra is completely undone, he tosses it aside, letting it fall to the floor. his eyes feasting on your now bare breasts, a slow smile spreading across his face. “so perfect,” he murmurs, his hands coming up to cup the tender flesh. “like they were made specifically for me.”

exactly, just for him.

as his hand cups one, his thumb rubbing over the hard peak. so sensitive. he leans down, taking the other peak into his mouth and sucking gently. his tongue flicking out to caress the hardened bud. a soft gasp tears from your throat, your back arching as pleasure shot through you.

his touch is gentle, almost worshipful. his hands slide down to your waist, his fingers curling around to squeeze your bottom. he lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. carrying you, sylus walks towards his study desk, never breaking the intimate contact. he lays you down gently on the cold surface, his warm body covering yours, your ample breasts jiggle with each movement. his lips trail from them up to your neck, his tiny fake fangs grazing your pulse point. “you’re mine,”

completely and utterly his.

he continues to worship your breasts, his mouth and hands moving between them, alternating between gentle kisses and firmer sucks, his fingers rolling and pinching your other nipple. “so delicate,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your skin. “so mine.”

“s-sy...” his name escapes your lips in a breathless moan, and you feel him smirk against your skin, clearly satisfied by your reaction.

he didn’t stop. his mouth is completely relentless, switching to the other breast and another once more, giving it the same equal attention, sucking and nipping at your sensitive skin until you are squirming beneath him, every nerve in your body alight with desire.

his hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips possessively. his touch becomes more demanding, his fingers digging into your flesh. he kisses down your stomach, his hands guiding your thighs farther apart. his breath is hot against your core as he murmurs, “and this...”

his hands grip your thighs tighter, holding them apart as he leans down and presses his mouth to your center before biting the edge of your now soaked lace panties and sliding it to the side, revealing your wet cunt. “...belongs to me.” his tongue delves into your wet folds, parting them to lap at your nectar.

without any further hesitation, he dips his head and buries his face between your thighs. his tongue laves at your entrance, gathering your juices before thrusting inside you, fucking your hole with his tongue. your hands fist on the edge of the desk as he continues, the slow, torturous rhythm of his tongue driving you closer and closer to the edge. every stroke, every flick of it sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, and it was all you could do to hold on, your body trembling beneath him.

sylus growls against your sex, the vibrations intensifying the pleasure. his tongue circles your clit before he suckles it between his lips. two long fingers plunge deep inside you, curling to stroke your inner walls. and in that moment you realize, he had come prepared. his nails on both of his middle and ring fingers are cut short, smooth and neat. he made sure to trim them carefully, knowing it’s important for what’s to come. the clean tips of his fingers shine softly in the light with each pull outs from your sweet hole, showing he thought ahead, fully caked with your pussy juices. he feels ready, knowing he can focus on the moment without any worries.

my, my, so thoughtful. yet so naughty.

sylus pumps them steadily, matching the rhythm of his tongue. he sets a steady pace, his fingers plunging deep and curling to hit that special spot inside you with each thrust and rub. his tongue dances over your clit, alternating between rapid flicks and slow, deliberate licks. he can taste your arousal, feel your walls starting to flutter around his fingers. your hands fisting in his hair as you try to keep yourself grounded. but it is impossible. every flick of his tongue, every suck, every moan and groan that vibrated through you only push you closer to the edge, your body trembling with the need to fall.

he hums against your sex, the vibrations almost too much to bear. his fingers curl more deeper, rubbing firm circles against your g-spot as he teases your clit with the tip of his tongue fast. the pressure builds, his mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony to drive you wild.

sensing your impending orgasm, sylus doubles his efforts. he adds a third finger, scissoring them inside you to stretch your pussy even further. his mouth closes over your clit, and he sucks hard, his fangs grazing your sensitive flesh as he hums a deep, vibrations-rich note.

as your walls tighten around his fingers, he lifts his head, his mouth glistening with your essence. “look at me, sweetie,” he murmurs, his accent thick. you meet his gaze, feeling a rush of warmth wash over you. his fingers continue to move inside you, thrusting deeper with a steady fast rhythm. his palm presses against you, applying just the right amount of pressure where you need it most. each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. he watches you closely, taking in every gasp and shudder that escapes your lips. you can see the hunger in his eyes, the way he craves every reaction from you. it makes your heart race even faster.

“that’s it, just like that,” he says softly, encouraging you as his fingers curl at the perfect angle. you can feel him hitting that sweet spot, and it makes you moan even louder. the room feels like it’s spinning, and all you can focus on is him and the pleasure he’s giving you.

“you feel so good,” he adds, his voice low and sultry. the heat between you grows stronger, and you can't help but squirm beneath him, craving more. you feel a wave of bliss building inside you, ready to break free. you want to feel everything he has to give.

you lock eyes with him as he slowly continues to work you with his hand. his face is unreadable, but his eyes blaze with intensity. he brings his other hand up to your mouth, slowly sliding two fingers past your lips. “suck,” he commands softly, his voice low and sultry.

you obey, your tongue swirling around his fingers, tasting yourself on him. the sensation makes your cheeks flush as you feel the heat rise within you. “mmm, sylus,” you murmur around his fingers, the name spilling from your lips, filled with longing. he watches you closely, his gaze intense and filled with desire.

“good girl,” he praises, his voice thick with approval. the way he looks at you makes you feel both exposed and exhilarated. you continue to suck on his fingers, drawing them deeper into your mouth, trying to please him as much as he pleases you.

as you do this, he quickens the pace of his fingers inside you, moving with purpose. every thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, and you moan around his fingers, the sound muffled but filled with longing.

“that’s right,” he encourages. “let me hear you.”

the combination of your soft moans and the way he works you sends you spiraling deeper into ecstasy. you can already feel the tension building inside you, tightening with every movement. it’s intoxicating, the way he knows exactly how to push your buttons.

and how to push you closer to the edge.

he grins, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. “keep going, sweetheart,” he urges, his voice a low rumble. “i want to see you lose control.”

“i... i can’t hold on much longer,” you confess, feeling your body tense and quiver with anticipation. the world around you fades as all you can focus on is the pleasure he gives you, making you feel alive and wanted.

his eyes flash with hunger as he watches you unravel, your desperate moans and the way your body trembles igniting a primal urge within him. he curls his fingers inside you, stroking that perfect spot, determined to push you over the edge. he pumps his fingers into you once more, his palm pressing against you as his hand works between your legs. his other hand pulls away from your mouth, instead gently caressing your cheek. his touch is tender, a stark contrast to the way he’s working your body. with a final, firm stroke, he tips you over the precipice. you shatter, your back arching as waves of intense pleasure wash over you. he silences your cute cries with his lips, kissing you deeply as you convulse around his fingers.

his tongue tangles with yours, swallowing your cries as he draws out your release, his fingers continuing to move inside you, milking every last drop of pleasure from your body. he breaks the kiss, his breathing heavy as he gazes into your eyes, mesmerized by the vulnerability and raw passion he finds there. slowly, he withdraws his fingers and brings them to his mouth, licking them clean while holding your gaze. he savors the taste of your essence, his tongue swirling around his fingers as he maintains intense eye contact. a low, approving growl rumbles in his chest at your exquisite flavor. “you taste divine, my dear.”

you barely manage to breathe, your bare chest heaving up and down as you try to catch your breath. his gaze then drops to your heaving chest, admiring the way your full breasts rise and fall. he reaches out, gently cupping one in his large hand, his thumb brushing over the hardened peak. “and these pillows of mine,” he murmurs, “they’re absolutely beautiful.”

he lifts your breast, his thumb continuing to tease the nipple as he leans in to capture it between his lips. he sucks gently, his tiny fangs grazing the sensitive flesh before he releases it with a soft pop. “so perfect for me to play with.”

he switches to your other breast, giving it the same attention as the first. his free hand reaches out to gently pinch and roll your other nipple between his fingers. “and these cute little nubs,” he murmurs against your breast, “they’re just begging to be played with as well.”

“s-sy!” you whimper, your cheeks flushing with warmth as you playfully swat at his chest, feeling a mix of embarrassment and submission.

with one swift, fluid motion, he removes your soaked panties, leaving you bare before him. his eyes darkens as he took in the sight of you, laid out on his desk, your skin flushed, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. the hunger in his gaze was almost predatory, and you shivered beneath the weight of it.

a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body, even though you could still feel the remnants of your orgasm pulsing faintly between your legs. and no, it’s not just a want anymore.

it’s a need.

the need, the aching desire for him, was only growing stronger. he knew exactly how to make you come undone.

“sy…” you whisper, your voice a mix of exhaustion and need. you reach out, your fingers brushing over the sharp lines of his chest as you tried to pull him closer, your body already craving the press of his weight against you. “please… i want you inside me.”

his gaze flickers up to meet yours, his irises swirling with unbridled hunger and desire. his broad chest heaves with a deep inhalation, as if he was trying to draw your scent into his very soul. his fangs descend, his eyes flickering red as the scent of your arousal and the sound of your plea stoked the fire of his hunger.

“my sweet, desperate kitten.” he chuckles darkly, his fingertips tracing up your inner thigh before he gently slipped a finger inside you, testing your readiness. he hummed against your thigh, his breath hot and tantalizing against your damp flesh. his fingers trace up and down your folds, gently exploring as he watches your reactions.

your hips buck against his fingers, desperate for more friction. you muffle your moans with the back of your hand. “p-please, sylus... i-i need... i need more...”

his smirk deepened, a glint of satisfaction flashing in his crimson eyes. “such a good girl when you ask so sweetly,” he murmured, his fingers trailing up your waist, brushing your skin with a tenderness that contradicted the raw hunger burning between the two of you.

he slowly removes his fingers from your heat, leaving you feeling empty and aching. he rises to his knees, his eyes locked onto yours. “think it’s time to give you exactly what you've been craving,” he said, his voice low and commanding as he reaches for the hem of his shirt.

sylus slowly sheds his clothing, his eyes never leaving yours, and each inch of his body revealed only makes the fire inside you burn hotter. the sculpted muscles of his chest, the firm ridges of his abs, the silver trail of hair that leads lower—all of it is designed to drive you wild. his presence is overwhelming, his dominance palpable, and yet there is something undeniably intimate in the way he undresses before you, his gaze softening just enough to let you see the depth of his desire.

his hands trail over his own body, his touch almost reverent as he reaches for the belt on his pants before unbuckling it then slowly unzips, pushing them down his hips. his manhood juts out—hard, thick and heavy—the tip already glistening. he wraps a hand around himself, giving himself a slow, purposeful stroke.

it’s been a while since you and sylus shared an intimate moment together, so the longing between you both has only grown. with the time apart, every small touch, look, and kiss now feels even stronger, like there’s a build-up you can’t ignore. the excitement is thicker, and there’s this unspoken eagerness to reconnect. you can feel the tension between you, each moment making the anticipation even harder to resist as both of you are pulled back together.

you remember the last time you were together, the warmth of his body pressed so close to yours, every touch lingering like it was meant to last forever. in that moment, his hands had explored every inch of you, memorizing every curve and line as if he couldn’t bear to forget. his voice, soft and deep, had whispered your name like it was something precious, each kiss leaving you feeling cherished and entirely his.

the memory sends a wave of warmth through you, making the present even more intense as you realize how much you missed this closeness. now, with him here again, that same longing stirs inside you, stronger and more eager than before.

when sylus is finally bare, he steps closer, his hands gripping your thighs and parting them even wider. the head of his erection brushes against your core, and you gasp, your fingers tightening on the edge of the desk. “look at me,” he orders softly, his hand sliding beneath your chin, tilting your face up so you are forced to meet his red eyes.

the intensity of his gaze sends shivers down your spine. you can see the hunger burning within him, a dark desire that makes your heart race. “i want you to remember this moment,” he continues, his voice low and smooth. “i want you to feel every inch of me inside you.”

you can barely find your voice as you whisper, “i want that too.” the words come out in a breathy rush, your excitement mixing with nervousness.

he brushes a thumb over your cheek, a teasing smile on his lips. “good. because waiting has made me even hungrier for you.” he leans closer, and you can feel his warm breath against your skin, making you tremble. “tell me what you need.”

you swallow hard, trying to gather your thoughts. “i need you… now,” you finally say, your voice firmer than before. the words come out almost like a plea, and you can see the satisfaction in his eyes.

“that’s my girl,” he replies, his voice thick with desire. he presses the tip of his erection against your entrance, teasing you just enough to make your body ache with need. “are you ready?” he asks, his voice low.

“yes, please,” you respond, feeling the heat in your cheeks. you can’t help but feel a little shy, but his presence makes you feel safe. he gives you a wicked smile, the corners of his mouth curling up in a way that sends a thrill through you.

“good.”

sylus shifts, his hips settling between your thighs, and you could feel the hardness of him pressing against your entrance, slick with your need. the anticipation was almost unbearable, your body trembling beneath him as you wait for him to finally take you.

and then he did.

with one slow, deliberate thrust, sylus sinks into you, the stretch of him filling you completely, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. your mouth fall open in a soundless gasp, your nails digging into his back as he fills you inch by agonizing inch. he is big—almost too much—but the delicious pressure was exactly what you needed, the perfect combination of pain and pleasure that left you breathless.

“fuck…” sylus groans, his voice rough and thick as he buries himself more to the hilt, his hips pressed flush against yours. he pauses there, his forehead dropping to rest against yours as he gave you a moment to adjust, his breath hot and ragged against your lips.

“how does that feel?” he asks, his breath hot against your ear. the sensation is electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. you whimper softly, your back arching instinctively as he fills you, stretching you perfectly.

oh, horrendously big it hurts.

very enjoyable, however.

“i-i can’t,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “it... h-hurts.”

his body tensed as he slowly pushed forward, his thick length filling you inch by delicious inch. “relax, my love,” he promises, his thumb caressing your cheek as he watches your face for any sign of discomfort. “you can take me, you were made for me,”

he begins to move, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm as he thrusts deep inside your welcoming heat. each powerful stroke stretches you deliciously, filling you completely. his hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he claimed you thoroughly. “you can handle it,”

your heart pound at his words, your body responding with a fresh flood of arousal as you nod submissively, too breathless to speak.

with each pass of his hips, he hit that sweet spot inside you, making you cry out in pleasure, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your core. your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. the feeling of him inside you, stretching you, filling you so completely—it is intoxicating. you could feel every pulse of him, every twitch, and it make you desperate for more. he leans down to capture your luscious mouth with his own, kissing you deeply as he continues to move within you. his pace quickens, his breathing growing harsher with each passing moment. “you feel so good,” he hisses against your lips, his long fingers tangling in your hair.

it was almost too much—yet not enough. you want more. you need more. “faster, baby…” you gasp, your hips bucking up against his, desperate for him to give you what you crave.

his face contorts with passion, a guttural growl echoing from his chest as he speeds up his rhythm, his hips slapping against yours with each powerful thrust. the sound of flesh meeting flesh fills the room, accompanied by your moans and his ragged breath. “like that, love?”

you nod eagerly, your fingers digging into his back, your nails scoring his skin. the pleasure is almost too much to bear, the sensation of him moving inside you so intense that your vision begins to swim. he leans down and sinks his teeth gently into your shoulder, making you. the gentle pain pushing you right over the edge.

“more?” he rasps, his fingers sliding down your body to find that sweet swollen nub between your legs. as he pounds deep inside you, he begins to circle it with his fingertips, coaxing you closer to release. his crimson eyes burn into yours.

you bury your face in the crook of his neck, your breath hot against his skin. “s-sylus... i’m so close.”

with that, his touch becomes more insistent, his fingers working you into a frenzy as he continues to thrust hard and fast. he can feel you tensing around him, hear your breath hitching in your throat. “look at me,” he commands softly, his voice laced with dark promise. “i want to watch every expression on your beautiful face as you reach your peak.”

with great effort, you lift your head and lock eyes with him. his face is a mask of concentration, his red irises are dilated, his pupils blown wide with passion. his gaze bores into yours, intense and demanding. one hand grips your hip bruisingly tight as he slams into you, while the other continues its torturous circles.

“sy—!” you are close. so close.

as the pleasure becomes too much, you finally reach the brink, his name spills from your lips like a prayer, your back arching, your nails digging into his flesh, a tidal wave of sensation that leaves you trembling beneath him.

his own control shatters at the sight of you coming undone beneath him. his expression tightens, jaw clenched and little fangs bared as he continues to drive into you, his hips moving like a piston. the hand on your hip slides down to grip your jiggly thigh, hiking it higher around his waist as he growls, “that’s it, love. milk me dry.”

he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath washing over your skin as his movements become jerky, his tempo faltering.

then, without warning, sylus’s strong hands are on you in an instant, flipping you onto your stomach with an effortless motion. before you could even process what is happening, he is now behind you, pulling your hips up so that you were on all fours, your bare chest pressing into the cold surface of his desk and your ass raised high for him as you stand on his shoes on your tiptoes. his deep voice drips with dominance as he growls, “stay there, hands planted flat on my desk, back arched... just like that.” his hands roam your curves possessively, squeezing your backside before spreading your cheeks apart to reveal you to his heated gaze.

“sy…” you moan, your body responding instantly to the new position. you could already feel yourself throbbing with need again, the ache between your thighs demanding more of him.

he admires the view for a moment, taking in the sight of your pale, vulnerable ass presented to him. “don’t move.” he rasps, his voice hoarse from exertion. his hands roam freely over your curves, tracing the curve of your backside before giving your ass a light slap. his long fingers trail down your spine, tracing each vertebrae. “you look so beautiful like this.”

you moan, biting your lip in response.

he leans down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your spine, his touch gentle yet firm. his fingers continue to caress and pet you, slowly parting your sweet cheeks again. his breath hitches as he takes in the sight of you, so exposed, so vulnerable. his touch becomes more intimate, his fingers parting your flesh once more to toy with the sensitive pucker hidden between your cheeks. you gasp at the sudden, new sensation, your knuckles turning white as you grip the edge of his desk. “sylus...”

he chuckles darkly at your needy whimper, the sound vibrating against your skin. “shhh, just feel...” he hums against your spine, the vibration sending shivers through your body. his fingers continue to tease your ass, occasionally pressing a gentle kiss to the sensitive flesh. “let me worship you like this for a moment,” he murmurs, his voice a low, rumbling purr. his fingers continue their teasing exploration, circling your tight hole with maddening slowness before pressing inside ever so slightly, breaching you with a low groan.

he slowly works his thumb deeper, his other hand coming up to splay across your lower back, holding you in place as he claims your body inch by tantalizing inch. you feel so tight, so perfect around him. “mm, you take my finger so well, m’love.”

with his thumb still inside your butthole, sylus uses his other hand to guide his big cock to your entrance, the thick head sliding through your slick folds with ease. your breath hitched in anticipation, your body already quivering as you wait for him to fill you again.

he teases the swollen head of his cock along your slit, coating himself in your arousal. the tip catches on your entrance with each pass, promising penetration. “such a pretty pussy, baby,” he growls, giving your ass a sharp smack, causing you to squeal.

“syyy!” you huff, your voice shaky and breathless as the pleasure begins to build inside you.

he slowly starts to push into you, his thick head stretching you wide, his thumb moving in tandem to stretch you even further. “i’m going to fill you completely, satisfying every inch of this needy little space.”

oh god.

the sensation of being filled in both holes is overwhelming, even deeper than before, is overwhelming. you let out a desperate, mewling cry, your fingers clawing at the desk beneath you as your body adjusts to the new angle, the stretch even stronger like this. his one hand on your hips hold you firmly, keeping you in place as he moves deeper, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your whole body.

the new angle allows him to go deeper, the head of his cock brushing against a spot inside you that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your core. every time he pulls out and thrusts back in, it feel like he is reaching parts of you that had never been touched before, and the pleasure is almost too much to bear.

his pace quickens, his hips snapping forward as he buries himself to the hilt within you. the dual sensation of him filling both holes drives you to the brink of madness. you can’t help but push back against him, silently begging for more. your moans fill the room, making him want you even more. sylus’s thrusts grow harder and faster, each one stronger than the last. his hips press against yours with a force that leaves you breathless. the sound of your bodies, the warmth between your thighs, and the heavy breaths you both take—it all comes together in a rush of pure need and desire.

“look at you, taking me so well,” sylus growls, his voice filled with approval as he watches your body move under him. his hands then glide up your sides, moving over your waist and back, before tangling in your hair and gently pulling your head back. this makes your back arch even more. “such a good little slut for me.”

his words send a thrill of heat straight to your core, and you can’t hold back the desperate moan that escapes your lips. your body is on fire, every nerve ending tingling with pleasure as sylus continues to pound into you from behind, his cock filling you over and over again with an intensity that makes your knees weak. with each powerful thrust, the pleasure builds higher and higher, coiling tightly in your core like a spring ready to snap. sylus’s hand tightens in your hair, his other arm wrapping around your waist to hold you even closer as he grinds into you with hard, deliberate strokes. his free hand reaches down to grab one of your bouncing breasts, squeezing it roughly as he continues to fuck you mercilessly from behind. he pinches your nipple between his fingers, rolling it between his thumb and index finger as he growls in your ear, causing you to moan in pleasure. “fuck, just look at those tits bouncing around, baby...”

he smirks at your desperate moan, loving how he can make your body react so intensely to his touch. how cute. his hips snap forward again and again, his thick cock stretching you open and hitting that perfect spot deep inside that makes you see stars.

his gaze fixes on your bouncing tits, his eyes burning with a feral hunger. he suddenly pulls out of you and carries you off the desk, finally pinning you against the nearest wall. he spins you around and grabs your legs and throws them over his arms, his cock slamming back into you with brutal force.

holy fuck.

“oh god…” you gasp, your voice shaky and breathless as the pleasure builds inside you once more. you can feel another orgasm approaching, your body teetering on the edge of bliss, and you know it won’t take much to push you over.

his strong arms hold onto your thighs as he lifts you higher, his hips bucking against yours as he drives into you with raw, animalistic need. his face is buried between your breasts, and he growls like a beast, the vibration against your skin sending shivers down your spine.

his fangs graze over your chest, leaving a trail of fire in their wake before he latches onto your breast, sucking hungrily. mmh, so good. his body rocks into yours, each thrust deliberate and powerful, his body grinding against yours as he buries himself deep inside you.

“come for me, baby,” he growls, his voice low and demanding, muffling against your skin. “i want to feel you come around my cock again.”

his mouth stays latched onto your breast, sucking and nibbling as he continues to fuck you against the wall. the combination of his mouth on your tits, his cock pounding into you, and his arms holding your legs up is too much for your body to handle.

as you reach your climax, your inner walls clench tightly around his throbbing cock. he lets out a satisfied groan, his teeth biting gently into your breast as he sucks in your sweet skin. his hips continue to piston into you, fucking you through your orgasm and prolonging the intense pleasure. his own release barrels through him moments later, his face contorting in ecstasy as he buries his face in your cleavage and roars out his pleasure. his arms tighten around you, his whole body shuddering against yours as he spills himself inside you, their combined fluids dripping down his balls. for a moment, the only sound in the room is the heavy, labored breathing of both of you, your bodies still shaking after your intense release. sylus holds you close, pulling you against his strong chest, his arms wrapping around you possessively as you both stay in the dark, your bodies still tangled together.

slowly, he lets your legs down, his arms still wrapping around you to support your boneless body. he nuzzles into your neck, planting soft kisses along your collarbone. “mine,” he murmurs possessively, his voice laced with satisfaction. carrying you to his desk, he gently sits you down and pulling you into his embrace. his hands roam over your body, caressing your curves with gentle affection. “no one else will ever touch you like this. you are my soulmate, my beloved.”

you melt into his embrace, your fingers tangling in his silky silver hair as you pull his face to yours for a gentle, loving kiss. “and i am yours, forever and always,” you whisper against his soft lips, your heart brimming with love and devotion for the ‘dracula’ who stole your heart since the day you met him.

with a soft smile, sylus gently carries you to the bathroom, cradling you in his arms like a precious princess before removing the fake vampire fangs that both of you wore—along with your high heels.

“let’s get you cleaned up, my love.” he sets you down on the edge of the massive shower, turning on the rain shower head and adjusting the temperature. the warm water begins to cascade down, creating a soothing mist around you. sylus steps in with you, pulling you close so you feel his body heat. he runs his fingers through your hair, the gentle touch calming you as the water washes over both of you.

“are you feeling sore, my love?” he asks softly, his voice filled with concern.

“a-a little,” you admit, feeling shy, wincing a little as you shift. it’s true; the experience was intense, leaving you with a pleasant ache. “but it was worth it.”

he chuckles, clearly finding your response cute. “you are such a brave kitten,” he says, brushing his fingers along your cheek. “i admire your strength.”

the water glistens on your skin as he moves down to your waist, his fingers brushing lightly over your body. every touch sends small shivers through you, and although you feel sore, his movements are gentle and soothing.

after a few moments, he steps back and takes a look at you, his expression softening. “you are so beautiful,” he says, his voice filled with awe. you smile shyly, feeling the warmth of his words wrap around you like a soft blanket.

as the shower continues to rain down, sylus pulls you close again, wrapping his arms around you tightly. you rest your head against his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat. it feels safe and comforting.

sigh.

“i love moments like this,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “just you and me, away from the world.”

“me too,” you whisper back, feeling a sense of peace wash over you despite the lingering soreness.

he tilts your chin up gently so you meet his eyes. “i want to take care of you always,” he promises, his gaze serious but warm. “you are my everything.”

you can’t help but smile at his words, feeling a warmth in your chest. “and you are mine,” you reply softly.

as the water continues to flow, he leans in and kisses your forehead gently, a sweet gesture that makes your heart flutter.

after a while, you both step out of the shower, wrapping yourselves in soft towels. as you step into sylus’s massive closet, the walls are lined with perfectly organized clothes, shoes, and accessories. the light from the elegant chandelier casts a warm glow, making everything feel cozy despite the opulence surrounding you.

“feel free to pick anything you like,” he says, his tone stoic but with a hint of playfulness as he watches you browse through the neatly arranged clothing. “though i doubt anything will fit you as well as my shirt.”

you chuckle, appreciating his teasing nature. “well, i’ll take that as a challenge,” you reply, pulling out a few pieces, including a pair of his boxers. you can’t help but smile at how big they are compared to your small figure.

sylus raises an eyebrow, a small smirk forming on his lips. “are you sure you can handle all that fabric? you might get lost in it,” he teases, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning against the closet door in a way that exudes both confidence and charm.

“i think i’ll manage,” you say playfully, deciding to slip into the oversized shirt first. as you pull it over your head, you feel the soft fabric drape over you, engulfing your body. it’s comically large, and you can’t help but laugh as it falls past your hips, almost like a dress.

“you look like you raided my wardrobe,” he quips, his voice smooth yet playful as he takes in the sight of you in his shirt. “a very cute burglar, i must say.”

“maybe i’m just here to steal your heart,” you say with a wink, feeling confident in your playful banter.

“clever, but i think you’ve already succeeded in that regard,” he replies, his gaze softening slightly, though he maintains a stoic facade. “now, let’s see what else you can find.”

you rummage through the boxers, holding up a pair that’s comically large. “do you think these will work?” you ask, smirking at him.

“they’ll definitely work. in fact, i might be a little jealous,” he says, feigning seriousness. “but i suppose i can let it slide this time.”

after a few more moments of playful teasing, you finally change into the boxers, feeling even more comfortable. you step back to face him, striking a playful pose. “how do i look now?”

“like you belong in my closet,” he responds, his voice steady yet playful, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “though i must say, you should have the decency to keep your eyes on me instead of my clothes.”

“and why is that?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“because,” he steps closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone, “i’m the one who wants to see your pretty little face when you wear my clothes.”

you blush at his words, and despite the teasing, there’s something undeniably sincere in his gaze.

“now, how about we get back to that cozy spot in the living room?” he suggests, motioning toward the door.

with a smile, you nod, feeling a warm sense of connection as you both leave the lavish closet behind. sylus leads you to the living room, where he has prepared a little cozy setup with blankets and pillows. “i thought we could have a little halloween movie night,” he says, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

you beam at him, feeling grateful for the thoughtful surprise. “that sounds perfect,” you reply, snuggling into the pile of blankets he made for you. sylus settles in beside you, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you close.

he picks out a classic horror movie, and as the opening credits roll, you can’t help but glance up at him. “are you scared?” you tease, noticing how he looks slightly more serious than usual.

“me? scared? never,” he replies with mock bravado, a smirk playing on his lips. “but i will protect you if it gets too intense.”

you laugh, feeling warm and safe next to him. the movie plays on, but every so often, you steal glances at sylus, admiring how comfortable and warm he feels against you. the tension from earlier has melted away, leaving only warmth and affection between the two of you. as the plot thickens and the jump scares come, you find yourself leaning closer to sylus, burying your face in his shoulder during the most suspenseful scenes. he chuckles softly, holding you tighter, his fingers brushing through your hair. “it’s just a movie,” he reminds you gently, but you can hear the playful note in his voice.

after a few movies, you both take a break, sitting in comfortable silence as you munch on halloween-themed snacks he prepared—pumpkin cookies and candy corn. “this is the best halloween ever,” you say, a content smile on your face.

“i agree,” he replies, his gaze softening as he looks at you. “being with you makes everything better.”

as the night goes on, the atmosphere feels intimate and special. you feel a sense of closeness that only deepens with every laugh and shared moment. when the clock strikes midnight, sylus leans closer, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. it feels soft and gentle, filled with the warmth of the connection you both share.

“happy halloween, my love,” he whispers against your lips, a soft smile gracing his features.

“happy halloween, sylus. thank you for tonight,” you reply, your heart fluttering at the sweetness of the moment.

“i guess we really made this halloween unforgettable,” he adds, a teasing smirk on his lips.

you laugh lightly, nodding in agreement. “definitely unforgettable.”

with a soft laugh, he pulls you back into the warmth of his embrace. “here’s to many more halloweens together,” he says, his voice filled with promise as you both sink into the comfort of each other, knowing this night will be a cherished memory for years to come.

the end.

hi, thanks for reading all the way to the end! your support means so much to me. i hope you enjoyed this halloween oneshot! feel free to leave your thoughts or feedback; i’d love to hear from you! <3

[ddejavvu]

'oh, you LOVE me!' - send me a request for a baby blurb! give me a character, and a plotline, and i'll write you a little fanfiction :)

The team visiting Spencer for one reason or another on their day off & reader opens the door (maybe even wearing one of Spence's shirts) and that's how they all find out Spencer is in a relationship?

The doorbell rings, and even if Spencer weren't hobbling around on crutches with a rolled ankle, you'd have bolted to answer the door. You've got new shoes coming, a treat from your boyfriend himself, and they're set to arrive today before 9PM. It's 6, and you're eager to finally put them on.

However, it's not the mailman at the door, not unless the US Postal Service has gotten a huge budget increase. The man that stands at the door is dressed in a fine suit, something you're sure cost more than double what your shoes had, and he seems mildly surprised to see you behind the door.

There's a posse of people behind him, and you wonder if this is some sort of special delivery system. But no one seems to have your package, and you tilt your head at an angle, "Can I help you?"

His eyes narrow infinitesimally, curiously, "Yes, we're here to see Dr. Spencer Reid," The man speaks up, his voice deep and smooth, "Did we have the wrong address?"

"No- No! Hotch," Spencer shouts from his place on the couch, and you hear the clatter of crutches, "Hotch, wait!"

"Spencer," You gush, ditching the door to make sure he doesn't tip himself over in his sudden pursuit of his callers, "Spence, go slow, you'll trip."

"I'm fine," He pants, moving as fast as he can to the door, his cheeks unusually rosy, "Uh, what- what do you guys need?"

Upon sighting him, the rest of the people behind the door exchange glances with each other, like they hadn't quite believed just his voice. You're hovering awkwardly behind Spencer now, looking up at your houseguests curiously, and waiting for them to speak.

"We brought you cookies," A blonde woman behind the man in the suit pipes up, hands decked out in jewelry as she brandishes a ziploc bag of treats, "And- and Morgan has medical tape he thinks you should use on your ankle, and JJ made a casserole, and we just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I was going to offer to hire you a live-in nurse," An older man pipes up from the back, a suit jacket draped over his shoulders, glancing back at you with a small smirk, "But I'm not sure that's necessary."

"Thank you for the stuff." Spencer reaches out for the bag, keeping his crutch stabilized beneath his shoulder, "Y/N, can you- the casserole, um-"

"I got it," You jump forward to help, taking a dish from another blonde woman standing beside the first. The bottom is warmed, and she smiles kindly at you as she passes it off, nodding at your thnaks.

"Here's the tape," A man pipes up, muscles straining the t-shirt he's wearing as he sets a roll of medtape over the foil on the casserole. He grins at you, and the expression shifts more into a teasing one when he speaks to Spencer, "Sorry for interrupting."

"Oh, you weren't interrupting," You shake your head, "Are you- you're Spencer's coworkers, right?"

At their round of nods, you readjust your grip on the casserole, "Would you want to come eat with us? We could-"

"Our apartment is messy," Spencer cuts you off, hand already on the door to shut it on their shit-eating grins, "Thanks for the food, sorry you can't stay. See you tomorrow."

He shuts the door without offering them another word, and you gasp, "Spencer! That's rude, open the door!"

"They are relentless," Spencer locks it, heading towards you and backing you against the kitchen counter where you set the casserole, "If you let them in, they'll tease us both until our ears bleed, angel. They're not offended, and you can meet them some other time," He promises, kissing your forehead where you stand frowning at him, "When we're at someone else's house, and my ankle is healed so that we can run to the car and leave early when they lay into us."

[redroomreflections]

Let's Make A Movie

Natasha Romanoff xfem!reader

The Loud House Universe

The one where they make a tape ;)

Warnings: bondage, strap use, penetration, things only married couples do of course /s ;)

w/c: 2.9k

Making a sex tape was never on your list of things to do. It's just one of those ideas that fell into your lap. The idea of being able to watch and replay your time with Natasha became more enticing the more you thought about it. When you brought it up to her she'd been weary of your requests but on board. She had stipulations though. You couldn't show her face, and it could only be viewed in the bedroom. That was all well and fine. If anything, those two rules were a turn-on. Oh, and she wanted to top you.

It couldn't be a manufactured moment. It needed to be organic and real. It had to be raw and unhinged.

So, you waited. It didn't take long. Your sex life was great so it wasn't like you had to wait for her to initiate anything. The opportunity presented itself within a month. You were in the tower this time, the high-security building feeling more private than your own apartment somehow. You had been in the midst of a heavy makeout session when she reached for the camcorder. You were a little embarrassed by how fast you'd set up the camera but it had paid off.

"Is it recording?"

"Uh-huh."

Natasha hummed, taking the camera from your hands and moving away to get the right angle.

"You have a minute to get naked, baby," She teased.

"What happens if I don't?"

"Then I don't get to fuck you and you don't get to fuck me"

That was an empty threat, she would let you fuck her either way. Still, you complied and stripped, the cool air of the room making your nipples perk.

"On the bed," She commanded.

You moved to lay back on the bed, looking up at her with anticipation. You were already wet, pussy clenching at the sight of her. knowing that the camera was there somehow added to your heightened senses.

She was dressed down in a tank top and underwear, and her hair was wild. Her makeup had smudged slightly, her lips swollen from kissing. Her green eyes looked black, her pupils blown. She was beautiful. She set the camera down and crawled on the bed, kneeling over. She stroked your neck with one hand, managing to keep her balance, as she pulled you in for another kiss. You could taste the vodka on her tongue.

Her kisses were aggressive and possessive. She kissed you like it was her only chance. Like the world would end in a second. Like it was her last meal. Her hand gripped the side of your face as her other moved down to play with your nipples. it would be a lie to say you weren't already wound up. Natasha kneaded and pinched, noting how your kisses became sloppier as you struggled to breathe through her ministrations. She gave your nipple one last tug before traveling further down, running her fingers along your ribs, then your hip bones, finally dipping a single digit into your dripping heat with no warning.

"Shit, Nat," You whined, head falling back onto the pillows.

"God, baby. You're so wet already."

Natasha was the most observant woman you'd ever met. She could tell if your day was off or if something was bothering you with just one look. The same skills translated to the bedroom, or at least, the porn studio. You smiled in your head at the inside joke.

"What's funny?" She asked as she took her finger from your pussy, collecting your juices, before swirling it over your nipple.

"Nothing. You're just driving me crazy."

"Good." She said before dipping her head to take your nipple into her mouth. She flicked the nub with her tongue before biting down softly.

"Fuck," You hissed, bucking your hips up into her.

"Easy, sweetheart. We're gonna take our time tonight."

The promise of a drawn-out night made you clench. She chuckled, her breath tickling your breast. She switched breasts, sucking the other nipple into her mouth. She wanted to tease you. Wanted to see how needy she could make you. It was hard for her to not give in and fuck you herself. She knew she'd cave eventually.

"Mmm," You moaned, your hand going to the back of her head to get her closer. She suckled your breasts, licking, biting, and pulling at them. By the time she was done, they were hard and swollen.

She moved her head lower, licking your skin until she got to your belly button. You were a mess of arousal and her spit, your pussy aching for her attention.

"You want my mouth?" She asked, lips trailing even lower.

"Yes."

"Where? Be specific."

"I want your mouth on my pussy."

"I think I have other ideas," She said.

You were confused at first until she began to move her mouth up again. Your disappointment must've been evident because she chuckled, kissing the tip of your nose.

"Don't worry, baby. I'll give you what you need. But not yet. You can handle a little more teasing, can't you?"

You nodded and she grinned, "That's what I thought." She leaned over to the nightstand, rummaging through it before pulling out a few items.

"You're tying me up?" You questioned.

"Only for a little bit."

She moved the pillow you'd been leaning against, moving it off to the side.

"Hands up," She ordered.

You followed her directions, lifting your arms above your head. She bound your hands together, securing them to the headboard.

"Comfy?"

"Yeah,"

She kissed you again, softer than the previous ones. It was tender and loving. When she pulled away, her expression was one of pure adoration.

"What do you say, if you need to stop?"

"Red."

"Good girl."

Natasha's fingers trailed down the valley of your chest and stomach, stopping just shy of your throbbing pussy. She spread your legs and positioned herself between them. She lowered her head to your left thigh, peppering it with kisses. Then she nipped at the flesh.

"Ow!" You squeaked.

She did the same to the other thigh. Then the next. The bites got harder each time. Soon enough, there was a ring of teeth marks on your thighs. They stung, and you were sure they'd leave bruises.

"You're marking me up, Tasha."

"I know," She said. She moved down to your thighs and positioned them so that you were open just enough to place the vibrator between them. Then she tied your ankles.

"Are you gonna fuck me with that thing?"

"Yes. But I'm not done yet."

"Not done with what?"

"With you," She answered.

She placed the vibrator on the first setting and held it against your pussy, making sure to press it against your clit. The feeling made you gasp. She moved the toy up and down, slowly.

"Wait, wait, Nat, fuck, wait," You begged. She had the decency to wait.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine it's just..." You breathed.

She removed the toy and kissed the side of your head.

"Thank you," You sighed.

"Do you want to stop?"

"No. Not yet."

"Okay,"

Natasha kissed the corner of your mouth. It was so innocent. She kissed your cheeks, and then your forehead, and the tip of your nose. Her lips brushed against yours as she spoke, "I'll try to be easy. But I'm not promising anything."

"Okay,"

She pressed the toy against your clit again. The vibrations were soft, but you were already sensitive.

"Oh God," You groaned.

"Too much?"

"No, keep going,"

Natasha moved the toy from your clit to your entrance. She pressed the toy inside you. The stretch was nice and you clenched around the object.

"Shit," You arched your back. With your legs and feet bound you couldn't move as much as you wanted. She removed the toy to place it at your clit again, readjusting your hips, before allowing the vibrator to rest there. Your hips twitched.

"Fuck,"

"Good?"

"Mmmhm," You nodded.

She kept the vibrator at a slow pace, watching as your eyes fluttered. She loved seeing you like this. Helpless.

"You look so pretty, baby,"

You were too busy concentrating on the pleasurable sensations to respond.

She reached over to the nightstand, taking the camcorder in her hand to get a closer look. Her rule of keeping your faces out of it had gone out of the window. She wanted to capture everything about you that made you sexy.

"Open your eyes," She whispered.

You listened, opening your eyes and staring up at her. Her hair was mussed and her lips were plump and shiny. Her breasts heaved with every breath she took.

"You're so beautiful," You told her.

She blushed, smiling, "Flattery will get you nowhere."

"You're the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen,"

"Sweet talker," She said. She directed the camcorder to your face, focusing on your lips. Then she directed it to your breasts hard and shiny with her saliva, the toy, and the apex of your thighs.

"How are you doing?"

"Feels good, Tasha,"

"You look like you're having a good time,"

Your only response was a nod.

"Can I go harder?"

"Please."

She turned the vibrator up. The sensation was overwhelming. Your toes curled. You didn't know what to focus on. The toy, her stare, or the camera.

"Jesus, Tasha," You cursed. The sensations felt overwhelming yet so damn good.

"How many times do you think I can make you cum?" She asked.

"Fuck, Tasha. I-I don't know,"

"I think I can get at least three."

"Shit, I-" You couldn't finish your thought, the orgasm hitting you out of nowhere. You hadn't realized how close you were.

"Oh fuck, Tasha." You moaned. Your thighs tried to close but they were tied down, your pussy pulsed, and you arched your back, the toy only pressing into your clit the more you bore down.

"God, look at you," Natasha murmured.

When the pleasure finally subsided, you were a panting mess. You couldn't speak, not that you could even if you tried.

"Are you okay?"

"Uh-huh."

"Did you like that?"

"Mmm."

"You came so hard, baby." She placed the camera down again. "Can you give me another one?" She pushed the toy back to your entrance, thrusting it into you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Nat." You were hypersensitive, but the pleasure was worth the ache.

"Does it hurt?"

"A little,"

"I can stop,"

"No, please don't,"

"What's the magic word?"

"Please,"

"Good girl," She praised.

Natasha was rough, her thrusts unrelenting. She was focused on nothing else but the way you moaned and squirmed, the way you cried out. Her nails scraped against your belly, digging into your sides.

"Fuuuuck," You keened.

"God, you're so perfect, baby."

You couldn't even respond, you were too consumed with the ecstasy. She reached for the camera again, recording your flushed and sweaty face.

"I love you," She told you.

"L-love y-you too," You gasped.

"I'm gonna make you cum again. Are you ready?"

"Yeah,"

She thrust the toy in and out of you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," You chanted. Your thighs trembled and your hips jerked, but she kept them in place with her free hand.

"Open your legs," She demanded as you struggled against your restraints. You did as told and she repositioned the toy. She turned it up to the highest setting.

"Tasha, Tasha, oh God,"

"Just let go," She urged.

Your eyes squeezed shut and your jaw fell open. Natasha's voice was distant as the blood pounded in your ears. It was too much.

"I-I-I'm gon-gonna,"

"Go ahead, baby."

You came. Your vision went white, your body seized, and you cried out.

"Shit, baby," Natasha cursed.

The waves of pleasure hit you again and again. It felt like an eternity before the high began to fade. She allowed you to come down this time, watching as your chest heaved, before she placed the camera down again.

"What's your color?"

"G-green."

"Good. Can I get another one? I'll be gentle."

You were exhausted, but the thought of her bringing you to another climax was too tempting.

"Yes,"

Natasha removed the toy from your entrance. You felt empty. She crawled over you, straddling you, reaching down to expose her clit. She positioned herself just above your pelvis bone.

"Ready?"

"Mmmhm,"

She rubbed her clit against you, grinding her hips. It wasn't about getting you off this time. She needed to chase her own orgasm. And, well, you had to admit that it felt really fucking good.

"F-fuck," Natasha moaned. Oh, how you wished you could touch her. She spread her wetness over you, her juices mingling with yours, as she dripped.

"You feel so good, baby,"

Her hips jerked and stuttered, and you could tell she was close. She placed her hands on your shoulders, effectively pinning you down, as she used you for her pleasure. She rutted against you harder, faster, her clit catching the right spot, and she came.

"Shit," She gasped. Her mouth was parted, her head falling back. She rode out her orgasm before her body collapsed. She buried her face in your neck, still breathing heavily.

"You're amazing," You praised, "So good. So pretty."

Natasha smiled, kissing your shoulder, before laying her head on you.

"Are you going to untie me now?" You asked.

"In a minute." She breathed. It was almost like something else entirely came over her. "You're like my doll." She mused.

"Am I?"

"Mmm, my favorite plaything." She said. "I could just fuck you all night if I wanted. Make you come until you beg me to stop." She leaned up, planting a kiss against your lips. Then another one. And another.

"I would let you, if you wanted,"

"That's good. Cause I'm not done." She said, "I'll never be done with you. You're mine."

"I am," You agreed. She reached up to untie you, massaging your wrists.

"Turn over," She demanded.

You were exhausted.

"It'll feel good. I promise."

You rolled over onto your stomach.

"Are you okay?"

"Green,"

"Good,"

Natasha positioned her body against yours, her breasts resting on your back.

"I'm going to fuck you so good," She whispered. You could tell by her fumbling around that she'd gotten the strap. A rare occasion for her to wear it. You guess for your sex tape it would be appropriate.

For the next few minutes, Natasha treated you like a doll. She used her strength to position you, your face resting against the pillows, as she forced you to arch with your ass in the air, perfectly ready for her. She rubbed the toy against your wet slit.

"Ready, baby?"

"Fuck, please."

"Mmm, that's a good girl."

Natasha thrust into you. You were a bit overstimulated. Her thrusts were rough and the angle allowed her to hit deeper. You didn't know if you'd be able to handle it. But she promised you would feel good. You trusted her.

"Fuck," She cursed, "You're so tight, sweetheart."

"Tasha,"

"I got you."

She thrust harder. Faster. One of her hands moved to grip your hip, the other tangling in your hair.

"Shit, shit, shit," You whined. The slight ache had turned into something new. You felt so full and hot. The pleasure was so intense that you could feel it at your fingertips.

"You take me so good, baby. So fucking good."

"Fuck,"

"You look so beautiful, all tied up and fucked out,"

"Mm,"

She opened your ass cheeks, never stopping her thrusting but to spit on the puckered hole.

"Tasha,"

"Shh, I'm taking care of you,"

Natasha's finger probed the area before pushing in. The feeling was new. Her thrusting became softer and the pace slowed but never stopped.

"Does it feel good?"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, feels so good, Tasha. Oh, fuck."

"I knew you could handle it,"

She used her other hand to take control of your hips, all you could do was grab onto the sheets, as you laid open-mouthed.

"I'm gonna make you cum again."

"Yes,"

"Yes what?"

"Make me cum. Please."

Natasha leaned down to rest against your back. Her breath was hot and the added weight made you feel pinned. It was the last push you needed. Your body seized and you cried out. Your eyes fluttered, but she didn't stop.

"Tasha, wait, it's-"

"It's okay. I'm not done."

The pleasure was blinding. It hurt. But it was the most satisfying pain. Natasha pulled her finger out, changing hands and reaching down to rub your clit.

"Shit, fuck,"

"Good?"

"Mmhm,"

"Are you going to cum again?"

"Mm, I can't."

"You can," She insisted.

Her movements were sloppy, and you were sure the bed would collapse soon.

"Cum for me," She begged.

"Fuck, Nat, oh God, I-I'm-I'm-fuck, fuck,"

You came. Your orgasm is more intense this time. Your hips moved of their own accord, not knowing whether to push her away or keep her close. Natasha's thrust never faltered.

"One more, sweetheart. Come on."

"Tasha," You sobbed, "I can't,"

"Yes, you can,"

Her thrusts got slower, shallower.

"Breathe," She said, leaning over to whisper in your ear. Her thrusts slowed. She ground into your ass, drilling the cock into you, while her fingers toyed with your clit.

"That's it, baby. Just let go."

Your body went rigid, and a scream caught in your throat, as the orgasm ripped through you. You collapsed. Your legs gave out. You couldn't think. Natasha fucked you through it as she sweet-talked you.

"I know baby," She said. "I know your pussy feels so good right now. It's what you needed." She eventually slowed her hips.

"Thank you," You slurred, barely able to stay awake.

"No, thank you," She laughed.

Natasha pulled the cock out, undoing your restraints.

"You were so perfect."

"I feel drunk." You sighed. She leaned over to kiss your back, rubbing your ass cheeks, and pressing her thumb against your hole. She wanted more but she knew tonight this was your limit.

"Tasha,"

"I love you."

"Love you, too,"

(if you know how many times Natasha made R cum you get a cookie)