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hyewka · 1 year ago

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—what a loser! | c.bg

୨୧ synopsis. hearing rumours of your sex life travel around your campus for the first time has you standing in front of the very person that you’re convinced is responsible. your secret fuck buddy.

୨୧ warnings. stoner!gyu, bratty sub!beomgyu, mean femdom, humiliation kink, VERY public, hair pulling, hate sex kind of, cunnilingus, use of pet, fuck buddies, reader has a priest dad, bit of a toxic dynamic

“Why’re you here?” he mumbles casting his eyes down to his feet as he idly skates around, not paying you even a little bit of eye contact or actual acknowledgement.

“Can we talk somewhere else? More private?”

He ignores you.

You huff, rolling your eyes, adjusting the bag on your shoulder. The sun had already set, there were even less people out—no one was skating around at this hour but Beomgyu. “Why—" you take a breath, already feeling yourself get emotional and angry, “Why did you go around telling people about us?”

There’s a few reasons circling your head. Attention, bragging rights—attention was a big one but you hoped, no, a part of you believes it was an accident. That he let the information slip from his lips when he was drunk, or out of his right mind. But with the way he’s acting, it’s getting harder to hold on to the belief that Beomgyu was misunderstood and not just a fucking asshole.

Too much time goes by with silence and you think hes blatantly ignoring you again, but then he halts his skating, taking the time to run a hand through his hair. Hair that you’ve regretfully played with days on end, twirling strands around your finger, giggling as if the foundation you’ve built your relationship on wasn’t such a fragile fire that could be snuffed out in seconds if not the tiniest bit careful.

Look where you are now.

“Dunno, ‘cuz I can.”

His eyes are on you, bangs parted, looking straight at you. You can’t get it out of your mind, how the ends of his lips twitched up as he said that. Bitch. Fucking bitch.

He finds this amusing. A game. Your reputation was a game to him. Of course it is. He never took anything serious, not his career, not his relationships, not his future—he never cared.

Your nostrils flare as you stomp large strides towards him, charging and shoving his chest, having him stumble backwards off his board, dryly laughing. “The goody two shoes about to commit an assault?”

“Oh fuck off, you wouldn’t dare try suing me. God, I hate you so much. You’re such a—such a fucking loser!” you yell.

That wiped off the cocky demeanour.

“Here’s some two cents for you, I couldn’t give less of a fuck about whatever this is between us. I really couldn’t. But you—” your face gets heated up, pointing a finger at him. “You will never find anything better than what I gave you. And you’re going to live with that.”

He scoffs like he’s unbothered but it’s so clear with the way he clenches his jaw afterwards he’s pissed—it hit a spot. Good. Good, let him be hurt.

“What do you even—what did you gain by telling everybody my sex life? Having people call me a slut? Some sick pleasure from being superior to me for once? Attention? Huh? Why’re you acting out now?” Your eyes are narrowed as they implore answers out of him, searching his face and eyes, anything, anything that you can read from his unbearable silence.

“Yeah.”

You blink confused. “What?”

“Yeah, I wanted the attention. Happy now?” He walks to shoulder you but you let out a scoff, holding him back by his arm and pushing him in front of you again.

“You can’t for one second act like a man can you? You just run away from everything!” you feel like you could rip out your hair with how frustrating hes being.

“If you’re just going to stand there and insult me like a bitch I might as well just go and do something fucking productive.” he spits.

Your cheeks heat up and you think for the first time you understand the phrase of seeing red. Hes been poking and poking and poking with his nonchalance then later smugness then going onto just straight up disrespect—he was really pushing you. So he should’ve expected the hand that goes to strike him against his face—your chest rising up and down, brows furrowed deeply.

A faint red hand print blooms across his cheek, and his jaw falls slack, eyes blown out and wide. You suddenly grab him by the back of his hair, no doubt burning his scalp with the way he lets out a loud hiss. “I fucking hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”

You’re so close to his face and everything about the way he’s looking at you gives you the chills. You hate him. You do. He’s insane, he’s selfish, he’s rude, he’s—

A shaky lopsided grin still manages to break from his face, “No you don’t.”

And that was your last straw.

The addictive nature about Beomgyu is what kept you coming back over and over again—he never lead, he just let you…take him. And sometimes, at a point of your life where you feel like everythings being controlled for you, not having the choice to make the decisions you like, this somewhat served as an outlet.

That’s the more…reasonable explanation.

The other explanation is simple. He’s so fucking sexy.

The way he still melts into a kiss so harsh and mean, attempting to cup your cheeks, but immedietely dropping it when he feels your disapporval, his whimpers already picking up, not taking any incentive to breathe as if this kiss was enough to keep him alive; it’s those little things that have you up in the middle of the night thinking about him. Him.

Beomgyu, the stereotypical bad-boy stoner hipster outcast—the antithesis of everything present in your picture perfect life—he keeps you up at night. The mix of weed and his hilariously bad attempt at covering it with febreeze and cologne wafts your scent, it overwhelms you, but you still can’t get enough. Everything annoying about him disappears when he’s touching you.

“Why? Why do you keep doing this?” you say, finally being able to pull away from him—only after you had jerked on his hair harsher.

His lips are swollen, red and glistening—he looks pretty like this. He really does. But those lips always end up saying something to piss you off. “Keep doing what? Letting everyone know how you really are? Not actually the good girl you pretend to be, huh.”

You don’t know if he’s goading you on purpose because he likes it rough, or if he’s just being an asshole in general. It doesn’t matter. If he’s going to act like a brat, he’ll get treated like one.

Your knuckles had turned white with how hard you were gripping his hair so it feels relieving when you finally let it go. He tries to lean in to chase after your lips again, but you have your hands on his chest to stop him.

The flash of panic in his eyes when you step back from him is hilarious, it really is. It tells you everything you need to know. He wants you. He really wants you. He doesn’t care if you hit him or ruin his life, he wants you.

If his next words are any indication. “Hey, hey what are you doing? Where are you going?”

You walk to sit on a step of the stairs. “Do you think I’m a slut? Is that why you thought you had the audacity? Surely because otherwise if you respected me you wouldn’t have spread those rumors about me.”

He huffs out a laugh, the biggest reaction you’ve gotten out of him so far. He also walks to get closer to you. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You haven’t even come up with one single reason that would paint me in a better light. You really do see me as a fucking douchebag loser.” He’s clearly getting emotional with the way his voice gets higher pitched, the nonchalant front cracking, his lips slightly trembling.

“Because that’s what you are. Douchebag. Loser. You’re. A. Loser. Choi Beomgyu.”

You can see his fists clench at his sides, tight lipped. If you knew any better, you think he might’ve just started crying, but you’re not interested in tears. You angle your feet to point to the ground, “On your knees.”

He only hesitates for a second, he only stands there staring at you for a second, only a second before he crumbles and does as you say, getting on his knees in front of you, between your legs. “Closer.”

“But-"

“But what?” Your skirts already half way ridden up and you stare him down, keeping your eye contact intense.

“We’re in p-public. Anyone can see.”

You know hes blushing when you see the tips of his ears peek out, bright red. Aw, he’s nervous? Embarrassed? Shy?

“You’re never seeing me after this Choi. Make of it what you can or piss off.”

His eyes widen comically at that. “What? What does that mean? Are you leaving me?”

You can’t decipher or understand why exactly hes so surprised but you shake it off, you don’t want your good time to be spoiled. Not when your underwears’ already sticking to your pussy seeing him on his knees, on the ground, with his ripped baggy jeans, no doubt a pavement burn getting to him. “Are you going to eat me out or should I get up and leave?”

He shakes his head vehemently, hands on your knees spreading your legs. “Sorry, ‘m sorry. Don’t leave. Gonna make you feel good, promise.”

He’s already rambling like he’s dumbed out, like he’s about to be a goner. But he’s still hesitant in his actions and you groan, throwing your head back. “What the fuck Beomgyu?”

A pout rests on his lips, “I—…I don’t want anyone seeing you..”

You think he’s giving a fuck for your decency, you think its about you for once. But then another thought pops up in your head and your lips twitch. It’s not for you. It’s for him. He doesn’t want any possible pedestrian to see what only him so far has been able to see.

This isn’t worth it.

You make an attempt to get up before Beomgyu immediately has you sit back down, wasting no time to press his face between your legs, skirt over his head. His tongue pokes out to lick on over your panties, gradually wetting it and you sigh, the tenseness of your body evaporating. “Yeah, thats it. Be good for me pup.” He whines at that.

Beomgyu doesn’t tease any longer the moment your hands go to grab his hair because suddenly he bunches your panties to the side and you feel the contact of his hot tongue on your cunt, already lapping away like a dog. Dumb dog. Dumb dog. Dumb dumb dumb—but shit he’s having you curl your toes at the speed he’s going, the way he moans against your pussy like hes somehow enjoying eating you out more than you are.

“You’re my toy, nothing else. But you just keep—you keep irritating me, you keep being a dick, you keep provoking me.” you breathe out, tightening your fistful of his hair in your hand, making his moans even louder, nuzzling closer in your pussy you think he might genuinely suffocate at this point. But knowing him, he’d probably like that. “God, you absolute loser.”

He whines something intelligible, wet eyes looking up at you with his brows pulling up—it makes you gasp as you bite down on your bottom lip. He’s so pretty it’s unfair. Why’s such a sinful person so pretty? God must really have the time of his life making this hell for you.

You take it upon yourself to lift yourself a bit, grinding on his face harder, trying to reach your high, obstructing your view of his face—even with the anxiety of doing this so out in the open resting at the pit of your stomach. He’s practically mewling in your pussy, and the sounds send vibrations, his nose bumping up your clit every now and then. He lets you use him, he just lets you.

When Beomgyu fully submits like this to you…you see stars, you come hard. “More…more”, he groans, licking up your arousal. It’s so dirty, it really is, but you can’t help but nod.

Having the skater eat you out till your legs were jelly at a skatepark late at night would surely guarantee your place in hell.

“You’re such a whore, letting me fuck your face like this baby—don’t soil your pants yet, I know how you get. Probably getting off at the fact that we’re out l-like this…h-hah—dirty, dirty boy.”

He shakes his head, the glistening sweat of his forehead and the matted strands on his temple proof of how hard hes really going at it. “Not dirty. Just wan’ your attention..”

The second you tut at him for stopping he immedietely dives back in—you don’t know if it’s more him being afraid of a punishmet or because he himself doesn’t want to stop. Never mind that, because now hes wrapping his pretty lips around your clit and you’re fucking losing your mind with how quick your head clouds.

There are so many things circling your head right now. And this always happens whenever he starts talking during a hook up. Yes, it helps you get to an edge even faster but its for all the wrong reasons. He’d dirty talk for a bit before switching up, and suddenly all of his words are loving and cute and adorable and, and that’s bad. When you see him other than the image he’s curated for himself—that’s when you start feeling the unfamiliar butterflies fluttering.

You don’t like it. He’s not good for you.

“Stop thinking, only focus on me.” You gasp, your fingers digging into his tangled hair, disheveling it even more. Only him.

He makes you orgasm again, and when you catch your breath you gently push his head away, then harder when he can’t seem to stop kissing your inner thighs. He sighs, dropping it, but not without giving you one last puppy plea. You avoid his eyes, pulling your panties up and scoping around the area, all of a sudden feeling exposed. Did you really just let this punk eat you out on a staircase?

You stand up, dusting your ass, taking note of the redness of his knees and the large wet patch in between his crotch when Beomgyu follows, getting up from his knees, wiping his ridiculously wet lips. You tuck a strand behind your ear as you awkwardly stand, thinking over what you’re going to say now.

We’re over, bye.

I’ll go home now, don’t call me.

I hope you know how bad you messed up. Bye.

I’m blocking you on everything so don’t even think of contacting me.

“Don’t leave me.”

…That has you snap out of your reverie.

His voice is low, no doubt vulnerable. This is the worst. This is bad. Shit.

You clear your throat. “Why? Why shouldn’t I? Even if I didn’t want to I’d have to…my dad knows about you now because of the little stunt you pulled and he definitely doesn’t approve of you.” You mumble the last part, crossing your arms and keeping your distance. But that’s not of any use when he steps forward every time you take a step back.

“I’m—” He runs a hand through his hair again, clearly frustrated. And you don’t understand why, does he really operate life thinking there aren’t consequences to his actions? If he didn’t want to stop this so bad why’d he tell people about your relationship when you explicitly told him not to? “We can—we can do it in secret like we did this entire time. He doesn’t have to know.”

You sigh, also frankly frustrated. “Beomgyu! Why can’t you just-"

Suddenly you’re in his embrace, engulfing you so gently and yet the desperation in it couldn’t have been any more tighter. “Please, please don’t leave me. I’m sorry. I’ll—I’ll really do everything you want, I’ll be your toy, your pet, whatever shit you’re into—just don’t leave me."

You really shouldn’t give in. You really, really shouldn’t.

But then he nuzzles into your neck, mumbling with that slight whiny drawl in his tone, “I’ll be your good boy, I promise. Won’t misbehave anymore.”

Of course you give in. Again.

୨୧ note. honestly don’t know where this came from, i was just making up backstory as i was writing. literally only had one thought and one thought only, what if sub!bad boy x dom! good girl? and that was the small attempt made here lol, i love hearing any feedback or even a theory or two concerning the story’s world as i might explore these characters again 🙏

#txt smut #beomgyu smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #sub!idol #beomgyu hard thoughts #beomgyu x reader #txt x reader

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be4chywritez · 20 days ago

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matchmaker | oscar piastri

oscar piastri x fem!reader

You needed a date for a wedding, and somehow, Oscar Piastri ended up in the role. It was supposed to be pretend—just for the weekend…

"Please," you’re quite literally gripping Lando’s arm, borderline begging. He shrugs you off like you’re a minor inconvenience. “No.”

You groan, throwing yourself back against the couch in his driver’s room, where you’ve been holed up, waiting for his PR manager to call him. "Lando, do you want me to die?"

His eyes flicker up from his phone, unimpressed. “Hmm.”

You straighten up, determined. “So let me get this straight,” Lando says, finally putting his phone down to actually look at you. There’s a flicker of amusement in his expression, which gives you hope. “Your bum of a boyfriend dumped you last week, but your cousin still expects you to bring a plus one.”

You tuck your hair behind your ear and nod.

“So you decided to recruit me as your fake boyfriend for…” He holds his hand out, and you quickly place your phone in his palm, the virtual wedding invitation already open. His brows lift as he scans it. “Three days in the Maldives?”

You nod again, putting on your best “Please do this, or I’ll die” face.

Lando gives you a flat look. “Absolutely not.” He shoves your phone back at you like you just asked him to commit a felony.

You let out a strangled groan, throwing your head back. “Why not?”

“Because, one, I have better things to do than play house with you in a five-star resort.”

“Rude.”

“Two,” he continues, ignoring you, “I’m not an asshole like all the muppets you’ve dated. Which means I have self-respect.”

You narrow your eyes. “That feels like a personal attack.”

He grins. “That’s because it is.”

You groan, flopping against the couch dramatically. “Come on, Lando! You know my family—they’ll rip me to shreds if I show up alone. And my ex is going to be there.”

That gets his attention. His lips curl like he just smelled something bad. “That dickhead? Why?”

“Because he’s the groom’s best friend,” you mutter, rubbing your temples. “So not only will I be subjected to my cousin’s judgmental stares, but I’ll also have to watch my ex parade around, acting like breaking up with me was the best decision of his life.”

Lando leans back, arms crossed. “Yeah… still not seeing how that’s my problem.”

You glare. “Wow. Remind me why we’re best friends?”

He grins. “Because I’m incredibly charming and bring joy to your life.”

You grab a pillow and chuck it at his face. He dodges it effortlessly, still smirking.

“Fine,” he says, stretching out his legs. “I won’t go. But I have a better idea.”

You blink, wary. “…I’m listening.”

Lando’s grin turns absolutely devious. “Entice Oscar.”

Your brain short-circuits. “I—excuse me?”

He shrugs. “You’re hot. Oscar’s a guy. Use your powers.”

You gape at him. “Lando—”

“He’s got the personality of a brick, but he’s a good guy. And more importantly, he’s free.” Lando pauses, then grins. “Probably.”

You groan. “You think I can just bat my lashes at Oscar, and he’ll agree to drop everything and play my fake boyfriend?”

Lando looks at you like it’s obvious. “Yes.”

You stare at Lando like he’s grown a second head. “You want me to seduce Oscar into coming to my cousin’s wedding?”

“No, no,” he says, waving a hand. “I want you to persuade him. The seduction is just a bonus.”

You groan, rubbing your temples. “Lando, be serious.”

“I am! You’re underestimating the power you have. Oscar is a man—he’s not immune to a gorgeous woman asking for a favor.” Lando leans in like he’s telling you the secret to life. “You just have to be a little… convincing.”

You roll your eyes so hard you almost see your brain. “Oscar doesn’t even like me like that.”

Lando snorts. “He doesn’t have to like you like that. He just has to like you enough to say yes.”

You open your mouth to argue but stop because, annoyingly, Lando has a point. You and Oscar have always been friendly—he’s quiet, polite, and unbothered by your chaotic energy. You wouldn’t say you’re close, but there’s mutual respect.

…Would he say yes?

Lando must see the wheels turning in your head because he grins. “So, you’ll ask him?”

You sigh dramatically. “Do I even have a choice?”

“Nope.” Lando pops the ‘p.’

You glare, but he just stretches lazily, reaching for his phone again, looking very pleased with himself. “You better pray he agrees, Norris. If he says no, I’m coming back and making your life hell.”

Lando doesn’t even look up. “Yeah, yeah. Go work your magic, bombshell.” he chuckles to himself, “Use your assets,” his finger wiggles towards your chest you give him a shove before getting up.

You flip him off as you grab your bag and storm out.

—

You’re not sure why you ever listen to your idiot best friend.

Sitting at some semi-fancy restaurant, you adjust the hem of your dress, cursing Lando under your breath. He had insisted you wear something “enticing,” which meant your neckline was just a little lower than usual, and the dress hugged your figure in a way that was definitely deliberate. You had rolled your eyes at him, but you still wore it. Because, unfortunately, he had a point—if you were going to convince Oscar Piastri to drop everything and play pretend with you in the Maldives, you needed to come prepared.

Oscar sits across from you, looking painfully neutral as he stirs his drink. He’s dressed casually, his posture relaxed but his expression unreadable. You can’t tell if he’s amused, confused, or simply waiting for you to get to the point. Probably all three.

You clear your throat. "So, Oscar."

His eyes flick up from his glass. "So, you."

You flash your most charming smile. "How do you feel about tropical destinations? Luxurious resorts? The opportunity to make me eternally grateful?"

Oscar blinks, then exhales through his nose like he already regrets being here. "Lando put you up to this, didn’t he?"

You scoff, feigning offense. "Excuse me? I am a grown woman fully capable of making my own questionable decisions."

Oscar’s lips twitch. "Uh-huh. And this questionable decision is... what exactly?"

You lean forward slightly, resting your elbows on the table. "My cousin’s wedding. Three days in the Maldives. I need a date."

Oscar stares at you like you just told him you need a kidney. "...And you’re asking me?"

"Lando said no," you admit. "But! He also said—and I quote—'Oscar’s a good guy, probably free, and susceptible to a pretty face.'"

Oscar shakes his head, muttering, "I’m going to kill him."

"Join the club." You sigh, shifting in your seat. "Look, I know this is random, but I’m in a bit of a situation. My ex is going to be there, my family is impossible, and showing up alone is basically social suicide. You’re my best shot at making it through the weekend with my sanity intact."

Oscar tilts his head slightly. "I feel like I should be offended that I'm your second choice."

"Think of it this way—you’re my best choice now."

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. "And what exactly do I get out of this?"

You smile. "A free vacation. Fancy food. The satisfaction of knowing you single-handedly saved a poor, defenseless woman from familial humiliation."

Oscar arches a brow. "Defenseless?"

"Okay, maybe not defenseless," you concede. "But I am in distress."

He considers you for a long moment, eyes scanning your face like he's trying to decide just how much trouble you're about to be. Then he sighs, leaning back in his chair. "Fine. I'll do it."

Your eyes widen. "Wait, really?"

"Yes, really. Before I change my mind."

You break into a grin. "Oscar, you are officially my favorite person."

"Don't make me regret it," he mutters, but there’s the smallest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

—

The reality of what just happened doesn’t fully sink in until you’re back in Lando’s apartment, flopping onto his couch with an exaggerated sigh. Lando, who’s mid-game, barely glances up from his controller.

“Mission accomplished?” he asks, lips twitching.

You groan, rubbing your temples. “Yes, but at what cost?”

Lando barks out a laugh. “What, he agreed? Just like that?”

“Not just like that,” you huff. “I had to work for it.”

Lando smirks. “Did you bat your lashes?”

“I—shut up.”

He grins. “See? Told you he wouldn’t say no.”

You groan, throwing a pillow at him, which he expertly dodges. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

Lando just laughs. “Oh, you’re definitely gonna fall for him.”

You roll your eyes so hard they nearly get stuck. “I am not.”

“Uh-huh.”

You ignore him, crossing your arms. “This is just a business arrangement.”

“Sure.”

A pause. Then, “...Do you think he likes me?”

Lando cackles. “Oh, this is going to be interesting.”

—

The next morning, you arrive at the private airport, where your cousin has so generously arranged a jet for you. Because, of course, she has—she wouldn't be caught dead flying commercial.

Oscar is already there when you arrive, leaning against the sleek black car that brought him. He’s in a plain white tee and jeans, looking effortlessly put together, while you, in your carefully curated “I woke up like this” airport outfit, feel like you’re trying way too hard.

You clear your throat as you approach. "Ready to be my fake boyfriend?"

He pushes off the car, giving you a once-over. "Not sure I’m prepared for the mental toll, but sure."

You flash a grin. "Too late to back out now."

Minutes later, you’re settled inside the jet, the flight crew making final preparations. Oscar takes the seat across from you, stretching out like this is just another day at the office.

“So,” you say, breaking the silence, “we should probably set some ground rules.”

Oscar raises a brow. “Ground rules?”

“Yeah, you know. Boundaries. Expectations. What we need to do to sell this.”

He nods, intrigued. “Alright. Lay it on me.”

You tap a manicured finger against your chin. “Obviously, we have to be affectionate. Hold hands, sit close, the occasional casual touch.”

Oscar hums. “Got it.”

You hesitate for a split second before adding, “Kissing might be necessary.”

His expression doesn’t change, but you swear you see his fingers twitch against his knee. “Necessary, huh?”

You lean forward, resting your chin on your hand. “Can’t half-ass it, Piastri. If we’re going to be convincing, we have to be all in.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then he nods, a little slower this time. “All in.”

You smirk. “Good. Now, pet names. Do you have a preference?”

For the first time, Oscar looks mildly flustered. “A preference?”

“Yeah. Babe, honey, love—what feels natural to you?”

His ears turn pink. “I—uh—does it matter?”

You grin, victorious. “Of course, it matters. We have to sell this.”

Oscar clears his throat. “I’ll—uh—defer to you on that.”

You tilt your head playfully. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

His jaw tenses as he looks away. “This is going to be a long trip.”

You smile to yourself. Oh, this is going to be fun.

—

Oscar shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the sudden deep dive into fake relationship logistics. He scratches the back of his neck. "I don't know... whatever you usually use?"

You hum, tapping your chin. "I feel like 'babe' is a safe bet. It’s cute, casual, and doesn’t sound forced. Thoughts?"

He shrugs. "Babe works."

You squint at him. "That was suspiciously easy."

Oscar raises a brow. "Would you rather I argue?"

You consider it for a second, then shake your head. "No, actually. Let’s keep this cooperation going."

The flight attendant swings by to offer drinks, and you order champagne—because if you're going to be fake engaged in the Maldives, you might as well start indulging now. Oscar, ever the responsible one, sticks with water.

As you sip your drink, you eye him over the rim. "We should probably come up with a backstory."

Oscar exhales. "A backstory?"

"Yeah, like, how did we meet? How did you fall madly in love with me? What’s our adorable, rom-com-worthy relationship story?"

He gives you a look. "Can’t we just tell the truth?"

You scoff. "Oscar, the truth is that we vaguely tolerate each other, and Lando bribed you into this."

His lips twitch. "He didn’t bribe me."

"He used me as bait," you correct, waving a hand. "Which, frankly, makes me feel like a sacrificial lamb."

Oscar finally cracks a small grin. "Fine. What’s our story?"

You think for a moment, then snap your fingers. "We met at a race. Lando introduced us. You were immediately obsessed with me."

Oscar’s brows lift. "Obsessed?"

"Enamored," you say dramatically. "Hopelessly in love. Couldn’t take your eyes off me."

He leans back, arms crossed. "Right. And you?"

You smirk. "Oh, I thought you were hot, obviously."

Oscar blinks, and you swear you see the ghost of a smirk. "Obviously."

You wave a dismissive hand. "But I made you work for it. You had to woo me. Beg me to go on a date with you. You sent flowers, love letters—"

"Now it’s just getting unrealistic," he interjects, shaking his head.

"Excuse you," you gasp. "I am 100 percent love-letter worthy."

"I don’t doubt it," Oscar says, amused. "But I’m not a love-letter guy."

You narrow your eyes. "What kind of guy are you then, Piastri?"

He thinks for a second, then shrugs. "I just say what I mean."

Something about that answer makes your stomach flip, but you shove the feeling down, refusing to analyze it.

"Fine," you say, shifting in your seat. "No love letters. But you were still the one who chased me. That’s non-negotiable."

Oscar hums. "We’ll see."

You squint at him. "What does that mean?"

But he just reaches for his water, eyes twinkling with something unreadable. "Guess we’ll find out."

The flight settles into a comfortable lull. You lean back in your seat, stretching your legs out as the cabin lights dim to a soft glow. The hum of the engine, the occasional clink of glasses from the flight attendants—everything feels oddly serene.

You glance at Oscar, who’s scrolling through his phone, his fingers moving idly over the screen.

"Okay," you say, breaking the silence. "We’ve got the basics down, but we need details. What’s my favorite thing about you?"

Oscar looks up, clearly unimpressed. "You’re making this more complicated than it needs to be."

"This is called preparation," you counter. "What if someone asks me? I can’t just sit there and say, ‘Uhh… he drives really fast for a living?’ That’s boring."

He sighs, setting his phone down. "Fine. What is your favorite thing about me?"

You purse your lips, pretending to think. "Your freckles."

Oscar blinks. "My freckles?"

You nod, fully committing now. "Yeah. It’s cute. Gives you that whole boy-next-door thing. Makes you seem less… stoic."

His expression remains neutral, but you don’t miss the way his fingers twitch slightly against the armrest.

"Alright," he concedes. "Your laugh."

Your brows lift in surprise. "What about it?"

Oscar shrugs. "It’s loud."

You huff. "That’s not exactly a compliment, Piastri."

"It is," he insists, a small smirk playing on his lips. "It’s loud in a way that makes people turn their heads. Infectious, I guess."

You stare at him for a second, thrown off by the sincerity of it. He doesn’t look away, just meets your gaze like it’s no big deal. Like he didn’t just say something that made your stomach do an actual somersault.

You clear your throat. "Not bad. We’ll go with that."

Oscar simply nods and goes back to his phone, as if the moment didn’t just knock you slightly off balance.

You shake it off, taking another sip of your champagne. You need to keep this light. Playful.

"Okay, next question," you say, regaining composure. "Do we have pet names for each other, or do we stick to babe?"

Oscar sighs like you’re exhausting him, but you catch the flicker of amusement in his eyes. "You can call me whatever you want. Just not ‘Oskie.’"

Your grin is immediate. "Oskie, huh?"

"I said not ‘Oskie,’" he warns.

"Which means I absolutely have to call you that now," you tease. "Oskie, my love, my darling, my sweet baby angel—"

Oscar groans, tilting his head back against the seat. "I regret everything."

You giggle, nudging him with your knee. "Relax, Oskie. It’s just for show."

He levels you with a look, but there’s a reluctant twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Yeah. This might actually be fun.

The moment you and Oscar step into the grand hotel lobby, the air shifts—opulent chandeliers, the distant hum of chatter, and a lingering scent of fresh lilies. You barely have time to admire the luxury before a voice cuts through.

“There you are!"

You turn to find your cousin, Jaime, impeccably dressed, exuding the kind of politeness that borders on distant. You force a smile, the kind reserved for family obligations rather than genuine excitement.

"Hey!" You feign warmth as she pulls you into a quick, stiff hug. "Long flight, but we made it."

Her eyes flicker to Oscar, assessing. "And this must be...?"

"Oscar," you introduce smoothly, feeling his presence steady beside you. "My date." The word feels foreign, like you’re testing it out.

Your cousin nods approvingly but doesn't press. "Well, everyone's eager to see you. Welcome dinner’s in an hour. Dress formal."

With a parting nod, they’re gone, leaving you to exhale sharply.

Oscar leans in slightly. "That was... efficient."

You snort. "That was warm, for them."

—

The dining hall is grand, but the atmosphere is stiff. Soft clinking of silverware, murmured conversations, and a painfully polite undercurrent. You navigate it with the ease of someone used to playing a part. Oscar, ever composed, fits right in—but you notice his occasional side-glances, quietly observing the interactions around him.

Dinner is a blur of introductions, pleasantries, and forced smiles. Your cousin’s polite but detached, and other family members either fawn over Oscar’s "charm" or barely acknowledge him. You catch yourself watching him too much—how effortlessly he handles conversation, how his fingers drum lightly against his wine glass, how his eyes flick to you in between bites like he's making sure you're okay.

And then, mid-conversation, your stomach twists.

Across the table—your ex.

Oscar follows your gaze, his expression unreadable. He doesn’t ask, but something in his posture shifts, a subtle straightening of his shoulders. You force yourself to look away, laughing at something someone else said, even if you didn’t quite hear it.

Oscar leans in slightly. "You alright?" His voice is low, just for you.

You nod quickly. "Yeah. Just—family stuff."

He doesn’t push, but his presence alone steadies you.

—

By the time you make it to your shared room, exhaustion settles in. The suite is beautiful—large windows, a sprawling view of the ocean, and... one bed.

Of course.

You stare at it for a second too long. Oscar, setting his bag down, follows your gaze and huffs a soft laugh. "Guess we’re really committing to this."

You roll your eyes, flopping onto the edge of the mattress. "I’ll build a pillow wall."

"You do that," he says, smirking as he pulls out clothes from his bag.

—

After the long day, a hot shower sounds like heaven. You grab your toiletries and slip into the bathroom, closing the door behind you—at least, you think you did.

Steam fills the space as you let the water wash away the tension. You take your time, fingers combing through your hair, mind drifting—until a sharp intake of breath jolts you.

You whip around.

Oscar stands frozen in the doorway, eyes wide, mouth slightly open—because, oh god, the door wasn’t shut.

For a split second, neither of you move. Then—

"Jesus—!"

"Oh my god—!"

Oscar spins on his heel so fast he nearly crashes into the doorframe. "I didn’t— You didn’t— The door—"

"OUT!"

"Yep, leaving—" He slams the door shut behind him, making the walls rattle.

You stand there, naked and fuming, heart pounding.

He saw you.

Oscar Piastri just saw you in all your glory.

And somehow, that’s not even the worst part. The worst part is the fact that you are still fuming about it while he’s probably out there pacing in distress.

So naturally—because you are you—you decide to make it his problem.

You grab your towel, wrap it around yourself with maximum dramatic aggression, and storm out of the bathroom, still damp and seething.

Oscar, who is currently standing in the middle of the room looking like he’s processing war flashbacks, snaps his head toward you.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he mutters.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!” You throw your arms out, the towel barely hanging on.

Oscar rubs a hand down his face, still looking vaguely traumatized. “I DIDN’T KNOW THE DOOR WAS OPEN! Why are you yelling at me?”

“Because you just got a full view of me! And you—you stood there!”

“I DIDN’T MEAN TO!” Oscar yells, exasperated. “Do you think I wanted to walk in and just—just—” He gestures wildly, face bright red.

“Oh, so now you’re disgusted by me?” You slap a hand on your chest, gasping dramatically. “Wow. Wow, Oscar. First, you see me naked against my will, and now I’m offensive to look at?”

“That is not what I said!”

“Fine,” you huff. “You’ve seen mine—show me yours.”

A beat.

Oscar just stares at you.

The room goes dead silent.

Then—

“WHAT?!” His voice cracks so hard it’s almost impressive.

You cross your arms. “I’m just saying—it’s only fair.”

“NO, IT IS NOT.” He takes a full step back, looking at you like you’ve lost your mind. “Are you—are you actually insane?”

“You’re not even a little bit sorry,” you accuse.

“I AM EXTREMELY SORRY,” Oscar says, voice still too high-pitched. “But that does not mean I’m about to just—just whip it out for fairness' sake!”

You narrow your eyes. “Coward.”

Oscar looks like he’s going to pass away on the spot. “You need to calm down.”

“I am calm.”

“You are not calm.”

You huff, throwing yourself onto the bed in frustration. “Fine. Do whatever you want.”

“I will,” he says, still clearly panicked. “And what I want is to go on a walk before I lose my mind.”

You wave a dismissive hand. “Enjoy your guilt walk.”

He lets out the most exasperated sigh and grabs his jacket, throwing the door open. “Unbelievable,” he mutters as he steps out, slamming it shut behind him.

You flop onto your pillow.

Oscar Piastri has seen you naked.

This weekend just keeps getting better

.You’re already in bed when the door creaks open again. You don’t move, pretending to be asleep, but you feel him hesitating near the doorway.

A beat.

Then—

“…Are you still mad?”

You peek one eye open. Oscar is standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, looking a little less mortified but still deeply uncomfortable.

“I mean,” you say flatly. “I did offer you the chance to make things even.”

Oscar groans, dragging a hand over his face. “Can we never speak of that again?”

You roll onto your side, watching him. “You gonna apologize properly?”

Oscar exhales through his nose, looking pained. “I’m sorry for walking in on you.”

You raise an eyebrow.

His jaw clenches. “And for… standing there… like a stunned idiot.”

You nod, satisfied. “Good. Now, was it at least a nice view?”

Oscar makes a strangled sound, turning bright red. “I hate you.”

You grin. “Goodnight, Oscar.”

“Unbelievable,” he mutters under his breath, flipping off the light before climbing into bed.

There’s a very obvious space between you both.

But you swear, in the silence, you hear him exhale a quiet, amused chuckle

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the gentle waves lapping against the side of the yacht. The rest of the wedding party was scattered across the deck—some lounging, others chatting, a few already a little tipsy off midday champagne. It was the kind of scene that should have felt easy, carefree. And yet, you found yourself standing near the railing, swirling a mimosa in your hand, more caught up in your own thoughts than the view.

Oscar stood beside you, arms folded as he stared out at the horizon. He wasn’t much of a talker in group settings, but you could tell he was at least trying. Making the occasional polite comment, responding when spoken to. But right now, with just the two of you tucked away in your own little corner, the silence stretched comfortably between you.

You turned slightly, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. The sun had deepened the color of his skin, freckles even more pronounced, and a few strands of his hair stuck out from the salty wind. He looked good—too good.

God, this was bad.

"You okay?" Oscar’s voice broke through your spiraling thoughts, eyes flicking toward you.

You forced a small smile. "Yeah, just… taking it all in."

He hummed, nodding toward the water. "It’s nice out."

You exhaled, your grip tightening on your glass. You weren’t sure what it was—the warmth, the soft lull of the boat, the way he stood just a little too close—but something in the air shifted. You should have backed away. Should have made some sarcastic comment, broken whatever was lingering between you. But instead, you found yourself tilting your head, eyes tracing the sharp edge of his jaw, the way the sun kissed his cheekbones.

He turned toward you slightly, and for a second—just a second—you thought he might say something. But instead, his gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there, before quickly darting away.

Your heart did something stupid in response.

Stop it. He’s pretending.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to look away, to focus on the horizon instead of the way your skin burned under his proximity. This was a game. A favor. Oscar wasn’t yours.

But God, in moments like this, he sure felt like it.

Slipping out onto the balcony of your hotel room, you pulled your phone out and hit Lando’s contact, bringing it up to your ear. It barely rang twice before he picked up.

"Well, well, well," Lando greeted, amusement dripping from his voice. "If it isn’t my favorite wedding guest. Tell me, how’s fake married life treating you?"

You groaned, leaning against the railing. "Lando, I’m freaking out."

"Freaking out how?" he asked, clearly entertained.

You hesitated, running a hand through your hair. "I think—I think I might actually like him."

There was a pause. And then, Lando burst out laughing.

You scowled. "I’m serious!"

"Oh, I know you are," he wheezed. "Which is why this is even better."

"It’s not funny!"

"It’s hilarious," Lando corrected. "You—Miss ‘I Only Fall for Walking Red Flags’—are catching feelings for Oscar Piastri. Do you know how ironic that is?"

You groaned again, slumping against the railing. "It’s not ironic, it’s a crisis. I need to shut this down."

"Uh-huh. And how exactly do you plan on doing that?"

"I don’t know! Ignore him? Avoid eye contact? Wear a chastity belt?"

Lando snorted. "Or, and hear me out, you could just bone him and get it over with."

You gasped. "Lando!"

"What?" he said, feigning innocence. "I’m just saying, you’re obviously into him. And unless I’m reading this wrong, he’s clearly into you, too."

Your stomach flipped at that. "He’s not."

Lando scoffed. "Please. The man looks at you like he’s one second away from writing poetry about your existence."

You went silent, chewing on your lip.

Lando sighed dramatically. "Look, I love you, but I also know you. And you overthink everything. Just—don’t let your brain ruin this, okay?"

You exhaled slowly, closing your eyes.

It was easier said than done.

If your family wanted to see you madly in love, you were going to give them madly in love.

Oscar played along seamlessly. His arm stayed wrapped around your waist, his lips brushed your temple whenever someone was watching, and he let you intertwine your fingers with his under the table. The whole thing was a production, and your family ate it up.

Your cousin grinned at you over the table. "I’ve never seen you like this."

"Like what?" you asked, taking a sip of wine.

"In love," she said, nudging your arm. "I mean, I always knew it’d take someone special to tie you down, but I have to say—Oscar’s a good one."

You nearly choked. Across from you, Oscar raised a brow, clearly amused.

"She’s right, you know," Oscar said, his voice just smooth enough to be believable. "I am a catch."

You gave him a look. "Don’t push it."

He smirked, and God help you, you almost smiled back.

The wine had made you bold. Which is why, when you and Oscar got back to the room, you turned to him with a wicked grin.

"I wanna go swimming."

Oscar frowned. "Right now?"

"Yes, now," you said, already reaching for the zipper of your dress.

Oscar’s eyes widened. "Okay—hold on—"

Too late. The dress hit the floor, and you were already reaching behind your back, unclasping your bra.

"Jesus Christ," Oscar muttered, immediately looking away.

"You’re so dramatic," you giggled, stepping out of your underwear.

"I cannot believe this is happening," Oscar groaned.

You shot him a grin over your shoulder before sprinting toward the water.

"Oh, for fuck’s sake," he muttered before stripping off his shoes and following you in.

The water is warmer than expected, but the chill of the night air still prickles over your bare skin. You drift further out, arms moving lazily through the gentle waves, laughter spilling from your lips as you spin in the water. The world feels hazy, edges blurred by the wine humming in your bloodstream.

Oscar stands at the shoreline, arms crossed, shoes abandoned somewhere in the sand. His tie is loosened, top buttons undone, and he looks… worried.

"You've had your fun," he calls out, voice edged with both amusement and exasperation. "Come back before you float off to sea."

You giggle, flicking water in his direction even though he’s too far for it to reach. "I’m a great swimmer, thank you very much."

He sighs, running a hand down his face. "That’s not the point."

"Then what is the point, Piastri?" you tease, bobbing in the water, eyes glinting under the moonlight.

"The point is you’re naked, in the ocean, while very, very drunk," he deadpans. "And I’d rather not be responsible for fishing you out when you inevitably start shivering and regretting all your life choices."

"Such a fun-sucker," you pout, but as you kick your legs, you realize he’s right—your body is starting to feel the cold. You open your mouth to say something snarky but, before you can, a wave rolls under you, pushing you forward. You yelp, momentarily losing your balance, and in an instant, Oscar is in the water.

The splash is sudden, and you blink as he surfaces, suit pants soaked, dress shirt clinging to his frame. "Oh my God," you laugh, "you didn’t have to—"

"Let’s go," he interrupts, tone firm but gentle. He reaches for you, steady hands finding your waist, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe. His grip is warm, solid, and when your eyes meet his, something flickers there—something unspoken.

"You’re always saving me," you murmur.

"Yeah," he says, voice quieter now. "And you’re always making me."

His hands skim your arms, guiding you closer, and before you can stop yourself, before you can think—

You kiss him.

It’s clumsy, tasting of wine and saltwater, but it’s real. For a second, just a second, he doesn’t pull away. But then—

"Not now."

His words break through the haze, his hands steadying you as he gently leans back. His breathing is uneven, eyes darker than usual, and his grip lingers longer than it should.

"Not now?" you repeat, heart hammering.

He exhales, thumb brushing over your wrist before he shakes his head. "You’re drunk."

"So?"

"So, no."

You stare at him, something aching in your chest, but before you can argue, he’s already peeling off his soaked dress shirt, draping it over your shoulders. "Come on," he says, softer this time. "Let’s get you back."

—

The walk to the hotel room is quieter than expected. Your head is buzzing, but not from the alcohol anymore. Oscar’s hand is on your back, steady but cautious, and you swear he’s holding his breath the entire time.

Inside the room, he sighs, running a towel through his damp hair. "You should change before you freeze."

You glance down at yourself—shirt clinging to your skin, legs still damp. "Right," you mumble, fingers fumbling with the buttons.

He clears his throat. "I’ll turn around."

You roll your eyes but don’t argue. As you reach for your pajamas, the moment lingers—charged, unspoken. He stays at the door, hand gripping the handle like he’s holding himself back.

Before you climb into bed, you glance at him. "Are we gonna talk about it?"

His jaw tenses. "Go to sleep."

You scoff, flopping onto the mattress with a huff. "You’re annoying."

"And you’re drunk," he mutters.

Silence settles. The air between you feels heavier now, something shifting in the space that wasn’t there before.

As you close your eyes, you hear him exhale sharply. Then, softer—almost hesitant—

"Goodnight."

—

Oscar is already up, standing near the window, arms crossed over his chest. His posture is stiff, tense in a way that makes your stomach twist.

"Morning," you mumble, voice hoarse from sleep.

"How are you feeling?" His voice is controlled—too controlled.

You stretch, groaning. "Like I got hit by a truck. A truck full of wine." A dry chuckle escapes him, but it’s short-lived. The weight in the air hasn’t lifted. He’s not looking at you, and it’s driving you insane.

You sit up, rubbing your face. "Okay, what’s with the whole brooding thing? You’ve barely looked at me."

His jaw tightens. "We should probably just… move past last night." You blink, caught off guard.

"Move past it?”

"It was a mistake." The words sting.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed, suddenly much more awake. "A mistake?" you echo, trying to keep your voice even.

"You were drunk."

"And?"

"And I don’t want it to mean something to you when you weren’t thinking clearly."

A bitter laugh bubbles up.

"Right. Because I obviously wouldn’t want you sober.

He finally looks at you then, and for a split second, you see it—hesitation, conflict. But it’s gone as quickly as it appears.

"Let’s just get ready," he says. "It’s your cousin’s wedding day."

You watch as he disappears into the bathroom, the door shutting with a little too much finality. Your chest feels tight.

So, that’s how it’s going to be.

Fine. If Oscar Piastri wants to pretend like last night didn’t happen, then you can play that game too.

—

The ceremony is beautiful, but you barely register it. You go through the motions—smiling, clapping, taking pictures—but your mind is elsewhere.

Or rather, on someone else.

Oscar is right beside you, ever the perfect fake date, but there’s a difference now. Last night changed something. His touches are still there—his hand resting on your lower back, the way he leans in when someone asks about your “relationship”—but they’re measured.

Restrained.

It drives you insane. Dinner stretches long, speeches are made, and the wine is poured generously.

You lose track of how many times someone toasts to love. Somewhere between courses, you lean into Oscar, letting your hand linger on his thigh, just to see if he’ll react. He does. His muscles tense under your touch, but his expression remains neutral.

You tilt your head, voice saccharine. "You’re acting weird."

"I’m acting normal," he replies, sipping his drink.

"No, you’re acting like I’m going to pounce on you at any second." His lips press into a thin line.

"You’re drunk again." You scoff, swirling the wine in your glass.

"Not drunk, just… enjoying myself."

"Yeah, well," he exhales, setting his drink down. "Try not to enjoy yourself into another late-night swim."

You smirk. "Would you come save me again?" His gaze flickers to yours, and for a moment, you swear you see something crack in his resolve. But then he shakes his head, amusement ghosting over his lips.

"You’re insufferable."

"And you love it," you counter, grinning.

But he doesn’t answer. Instead, he looks away, fingers curling against his knee. Something in your stomach flips.

—

The flight home is silent. Not awkward, but not easy either.

You sit beside Oscar, arms crossed, staring out the window as the plane hums beneath you.

Last night, after too much wine, you had curled into bed, still in your dress, and barely registered Oscar pulling the blanket over you before he turned off the lights.

Now, in the harsh light of day, everything feels… off. You glance at him.

He’s focused on something in his hands, jaw tight, lost in thought.

You shift. "So… are we gonna talk about it?" He doesn’t look up. "There’s nothing to talk about."

A sharp laugh escapes you.

"Right. Of course. Because nothing happened."

His fingers twitch. You lean in slightly. "You kissed me back." His eyes snap to yours, sharp and unreadable.

"You were drunk," he repeats, but there’s something strained in his voice now.

You shake your head. "I know what I felt."

"Look, we had fun," he says, voice measured, like he’s carefully constructing each word before it leaves his mouth. "Let’s not make it something it wasn’t."

Something tightens in your chest.

"Something it wasn’t," you repeat, more to yourself than to him.

Oscar sighs, shifting in his seat. He’s trying to be logical. Practical. But all it does is make you want to shake him.

You lean in closer, lowering your voice. "You can lie to yourself all you want, Oscar, but don’t sit here and lie to me."

His eyes flicker to yours, something unreadable in his expression. "I’m not lying."

You huff out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "Right. Sure."

Silence.

The cabin hums around you, the quiet murmur of other passengers filling the space between you both. You grip your armrest, fingers drumming against the plastic.

Then, barely above a whisper, he mutters, "I don’t want to be just another guy you move on from."

The words hit you like a slap.

Your breath catches in your throat. "What?"

Oscar’s jaw is clenched, his knuckles white where they grip his knee. He won’t look at you.

You stare at him, feeling the weight of what he just admitted settle deep in your bones.

He thinks you’ll move on. That he’s just another name to add to your list of failed romances.

Your lips part, but no words come out. Because if you say it—if you tell him he’s wrong, that he’s different—then you’ll have to admit what you already know deep down.

That this isn’t just fun for you. That he’s not just a placeholder in your life.

And that terrifies you.

So instead, you turn away, staring out the window, swallowing the words that sit heavy on your tongue.

And Oscar doesn’t push.

Because maybe he’s just as scared as you are.

—

The apartment is eerily quiet when you get back.

You toss your suitcase into the corner, kicking off your shoes with more force than necessary. You don’t even bother unpacking.

The second you flop onto your bed, your phone buzzes.

Lando.

You stare at the screen before sighing and answering.

"You sound like shit," he greets.

"Good to hear your voice too," you deadpan.

"Okay, spill. What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Liar."

You close your eyes, pressing the heel of your palm to your forehead. "Oscar’s just—"

"A dumbass?"

A small, exhausted laugh escapes you. "Something like that."

Lando hums. "Yeah, well. He’s probably overthinking everything, as usual."

You groan. "Why do I even like him?"

"Oh, so you do like him?"

You freeze.

Shit.

Lando cackles. "Wow, that was too easy. You’re down bad, huh?"

"Goodbye, Lando."

"Wait, wait—"

You hang up, throwing your phone onto the bed.

You don’t want to talk about it. Not with Lando, not with yourself.

But that doesn’t stop you from replaying every moment in your head. The way Oscar had looked at you. The way he had pulled away. The way he had felt—warm, solid, real—before he decided to shove it all aside.

You groan, rolling onto your stomach, willing yourself to stop thinking about it.

Then—

A knock at the door.

Your heart jumps.

You already know who it is before you even open it.

And when you do, Oscar is standing there, looking like he’s been battling himself the entire way over. His hair is damp from a run, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

Neither of you speak for a moment.

Then, finally, he exhales. "Can we talk?"

You stare at him, pulse hammering in your ears. His face is flushed—whether from the run or something else, you’re not sure—but his eyes are fixed on you, searching, hesitant.

A thousand responses run through your mind. You could tell him to leave. You could pretend like you don’t care. You could close the door and shut him out the way he’s been shutting you out since the wedding.

Instead, you step aside.

He takes the silent invitation, brushing past you into the apartment. You close the door behind him, arms crossed over your chest as you turn to face him.

Oscar runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “I shouldn’t have said that on the plane.”

Your jaw tightens. “Which part? The part where you called last night a mistake, or the part where you assumed I’d just move on like none of it mattered?”

He flinches.

“Yeah,” you say bitterly. “Thought so.”

He looks away, shaking his head. “That’s not what I meant.”

You scoff. “Then what did you mean, Oscar? Because from where I’m standing, it sounds a lot like you’re trying to push me away before I can do it first.”

His silence is answer enough.

You let out a humorless laugh, throwing your hands up. “Jesus, do you even hear yourself? You act like I just bounce from guy to guy, like I don’t—” You stop yourself, shaking your head.

His eyes snap to yours. “Like you don’t what?”

Your breath catches.

This is it.

The moment you either tell him the truth or let him walk away.

You swallow hard. “Like I don’t feel anything for you.”

The air between you shifts, thick with unspoken words. Oscar’s expression falters—just slightly—but enough for you to see it. The cracks. The hesitation. The part of him that wants this just as much as you do but is terrified of it.

Then, quietly, he murmurs, “Do you?”

Your chest tightens. “Do you?”

Oscar exhales sharply, his shoulders slumping. He takes a step closer, eyes flickering between yours. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

The confession is barely above a whisper, but it’s enough to send your heart into overdrive.

You search his face, trying to find any trace of doubt, but all you see is exhaustion. Hope. Something deeper than either of you are willing to name just yet.

Slowly, you take a step forward, closing the distance. “Then why are you running from it?”

He swallows hard. “Because if I start… I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

Your breath catches.

And then, before you can overthink it, you reach for him.

Oscar doesn’t hesitate.

His hands find your waist as your lips crash into his, months of pent-up tension unraveling between you. It’s not soft, not tentative—it’s messy and desperate and real. His fingers dig into your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you tangle your hands in his hair, grounding yourself in the way he feels, the way he moves against you like he’s been waiting for this just as much as you have.

He backs you up until you hit the wall, his body pressing into yours. His lips move from your mouth to your jaw, down to the curve of your neck, and you tilt your head to give him more room, exhaling a shaky breath.

“Oscar,” you murmur.

He stills, his forehead resting against yours, breath heavy.

You don’t realize how hard your heart is pounding until there’s a beat of silence, both of you just standing there, catching your breath.

Then, softly, he says, “Not a mistake?”

You shake your head, fingers tightening in his shirt. “Not even close.”

His lips brush against yours again, slower this time, as if committing this moment to memory.

And for the first time in days, everything finally makes sense.

—

The paddock is a blur of movement—mechanics rushing between garages, team personnel checking final details, and the distant hum of engines roaring to life. It’s race day, and the energy in the air is electric.

You’re standing outside McLaren’s hospitality, wearing Oscar’s team shirt—his number printed on the back, the fabric slightly oversized but comfortable. Sunglasses perch on your nose, shielding your eyes from the midday sun as you scroll through your phone, waiting.

Then, an arm slings around your shoulders.

“Ah, there she is.”

You don’t even need to look up to know who it is.

“Lando.”

“Missed me?” he asks, squeezing your shoulder before dramatically sighing. “Probably not, considering you’ve been suspiciously unavailable for the past month.”

You roll your eyes, prying his arm off you. “Sorry for not prioritizing you over my boyfriend.”

Lando fake gags. “Ugh, don’t say it like that. Makes me feel like I’ve lost you forever.”

You smirk. “You have.”

“Pain,” he mutters, clutching his chest like he’s physically wounded.

Before you can retaliate, another familiar presence appears beside you.

“Are you harassing her already?”

You turn, smiling as Oscar steps up, looking effortlessly cool in his race suit, sunglasses on, and a drink bottle in hand. His free arm loops around your waist instinctively, pulling you against him.

Lando makes a disgusted noise. “Oh, this is repulsive.”

You tilt your head. “What is?”

“That,” he gestures vaguely at you and Oscar. “The… the couple-y standing. The arm thing. The way he’s looking at you like you hung the damn stars in the sky.”

Oscar raises a brow. “Would you rather I not look at my girlfriend?”

“Correct.”

You laugh, leaning into Oscar slightly, just to be extra. “I think someone’s just mad he’s the third wheel now.”

Lando scoffs. “I am not—”

“You absolutely are,” Oscar cuts in, smirking.

Lando glares between the two of you. “I hate this. I hate whatever is happening here.”

Oscar just shrugs, looking smug as hell. “You’ll get used to it.”

Lando grumbles something under his breath, kicking at the ground like a child. You swear you hear him mutter disgusting as he dramatically turns away.

Oscar chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “I think he’s struggling.”

You grin, watching Lando dramatically flop onto a nearby bench. “Oh, he definitely is.”

But hey, you were enjoying every second of it.

#be4chywrites #f1 x reader #oscar #osc #oscar piastri x fem!reader #oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri angst #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar x reader #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri

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wannaeatramyeon · 5 months ago

Text

Being Goo Kim's Secret Friend: Gitae Kim

2.2k. G/N. Gitae Kim x reader. Reader is morally grey. Gets spicy (Prequel-ish: An Introduction) Other Masterlists

��So, let me get this straight."

"Mm." Goo hums, meaning go ahead.

"You're paying me to babysit?"

"Man-sit," he interjects.

"Whatever." You flap your hand, "but I am looking after this person, correct?"

"Yes my little sweetpea." Goo rests his head on your shoulder, so close you could count his eyelashes and see the way his pupils dilate. "It's my secret friend's first time back in Seoul after being away. It'll be good for you to show him around."

"...I'm charging my usual rate."

"Sure-"

"And you're covering our expenses."

He rolls his eyes, "Ugh, fine."

Gitae Kim, from what you have managed to find out, is patricidal and a powerful man with unsavoury dealings.

"Play nice," was Goo's parting advice when you came to him with your concerns.

"Play nice?!" You say, voice shrill. Goo grins.

"Fuck you, my rate just tripled."

The grin drops and is replaced by a scowl.

"I thought we could try this place. It serves the best yukhoe." You gaze over to Gitae sitting in the passenger seat as you navigate the roads, checking if there's any response.

Nothing.

"Raw beef tartare." You explain, "I've heard you can be bloodthirsty."

His eyes flicker to you and you give him your most charming smile.

Head resting in your palm and elbow on the table, you observe him.

You find his table manners leaves a lot to be desired and watching him has put you off your own meal.

He eats like a beast but if the ferocity that he attacks his food is anything to go by, you're right on the money with guessing his taste.

"Let's get you another drink," you murmur, signalling for the staff. "Goo will kill me if you choke to death and I'm not practised with the heimlich."

"That was good, right?" You ask, striding alongside and trying to match Gitae step for step as he ignores you.

"I think you enjoyed it. Or you look like you did. I'm not really a fan of raw anything to be honest but gotta be a good host." You direct a smile his way and he hasn't even glanced over at you. You shrug it off and continue to ramble. "I'm still pretty hungry. There's a really good bubble tea place round here and they have a limited edition drink I want to get-"

"No," Gitae cuts in rudely.

"It won't take five minutes."

"No." He repeats, indicating there's no room for argument.

"Aww, cmon," you pout and he once again continues to ignore you. You consider going anyway, with or without Gitae.

Goo, face scrunched up in anger and shrieking obscenities, pops into your mind's eye when you imagine telling him that you might have lost his secret friend because you wanted a bubble tea.

"Fine," you grumble and throw Gitae a dirty look.

Gapryong's eldest is a man of few words and it only adds to his intimidating and menacing aura.

You've seen his list of achievements and he is not someone you want as an enemy. But when someone is this difficult, your default is to try and see what response you can get out of them.

"You know they have vapes now," you signal at the pipe hanging from his belt as you continue to walk next to him.

"Do you smoke?" you ask, and expectedly, he doesn't respond,

"No? I guess it's cool you're committing to it for aesthetic reasons." Then dammit, you wonder what has gotten into you. Maybe it's hanging out with Goo too much because you can't help but add, "Even if it makes you a bit... y'know."

He slows, looking over at you at the same time that you pull a face. Indicating clearly you meant 'cringe' even if you didn't say it aloud.

"You do you though," you say, giving him a thumbs up.

He looks at you for a beat longer, head tilted and eyes narrowed, before continuing on his way with you scurrying to catch up.

By the end of the first week, Gitae has responded to exactly three things that you've said.

The second week, he's still mostly silent but he actually looks at you sometimes when you talk.

The third week, he calls you by your name when he demands your attention and you're surprised that he even knows who you are.

And the fourth - you manage to make him laugh.

Ok, maybe laugh is a bit generous, but he exhales harder than usual and you're sure he's at least amused.

GItae thinks you're strange.

You run your mouth like you don't know who you're talking to, though you anticipate his needs and preferences like you've been studying him for most of your life.

You're this side of irritating, but not irritating enough that he wants to kill you.

And, the few times he tunes in to your comments, he admits that he finds you quite entertaining.

No-one has spoken to him like you do in a long time. There's a refreshing honesty to your words, and he's also confident that you're not going to stab him in the back at any second to wrest control of his cartel territory, which is also a welcome change from his usual company

It means that he can relax around you, or relax as much as someone like him can..

All in all, progress. Gitae finds himself trusting you like you're his second-in-command.

"What do you do for fun?" You ask. Gitae doesn't respond.

Right, you think, back to ignoring me.

You roll your eyes and start to ramble about this and that. You tell him that you're chronically online, giving a wry smile, and say it's a general side effect of your job but at least it's interesting to know the ins and outs of a few things.

Really though, maybe you should consider taking up some exercise to get fit or even as a form of self defence with your line of work and the people you come into contact with (you give Gitae a side eye at this) but it's kinda hard to find the time and-

"I can teach you," comes Gitae's low voice.

"What?"

"I can teach you," he repeats and your mouth drops open in shock.

Ok, as far as bad ideas go, this is a terrible one.

First, Gitae is huge. There is no chance you could even win in a spar or anything against him. You doubt even bullets would be able to penetrate that muscle.

Second, there is a lot of close contact and even more touching.

You aim a punch with all your might at him, any part of him. He deflects without effort, capturing your fist in his palm and he pulls you to his body. Chest against your back, wrapping his arms around you and pinning your own to your side as you try to wriggle out of his grasp.

He leans down to murmur into your ear. "You're very weak." You can feel his voice rumbling through his chest. "But you're very fun."

Your eyes snap to his at his words.

He's grinning, for the first time you've been with him. Eyes crazed and pupils blown, breath hot on your skin.

"Thanks!" You dip your head just before throwing it back sharply, connecting to Gitae's nose with a loud crack.

Gitae's nose isn't broken though it is bruised.

You apologise profusely and he tells you you have nothing to apologise for.

"It's a great hit."

You halt in your apologies, peering up at him through your lashes with a smug smirk, "I know."

Your response plays on his mind.

The lift of your lips, the sharpness of your smile, the confidence in your eyes, that half-lidded gaze.

"I know."

Gitae sees you in a new light.

He has enough of an understanding of Goo Kim to know that he's selective with his secret friends, and you have talked enough that Gitae also understands you play the role of brain rather than brawn.

Though he did not expect such viciousness to hide under your veneer, or you to be capable of such an underhanded move.

He's impressed.

"Why do all these shows make Mexico so blue?" You ask, watching a scene unfold on your phone. "Is it actually?"

You hold out the device to Gitae, some drama show playing and Mexico is indeed blue tinged.

"No."

"Hmm. It'll be cool to see for myself." You murmur, pulling your phone back.

Gitae pauses. The idea of you in his territory is very appealing. He can demonstrate to you exactly the kind of man he is, the power he wields. He can relish the impressed (or horrified) look on your face.

"I can show you," he says and you beam at the offer.

"Deal!"

“How many people have you killed with this?” you flex your hands, signalling ‘gimme’ and Gitae passes over his axe.

“Too many to count.”

“Cool,” you say nonchalantly, testing your grip. Gitae gives you a strange look.

“I gather intel, remember. That’s my thing,” you say, swinging the axe experimentally a few times and appreciating the heft behind it.

The meaning is clear: I know all your secrets and Gitae, to his surprise, feels some respite at this fact.

"Fuck," you squirm to no avail, trapped underneath Gitae as he looks down at you lazily, inches from your face.

Your wrists are pinned above your head, held in place by his grip as his other hand rests, light but threatening, on your throat.

You have had a few other training sessions since the first one, and the way they had gone was all pure luck. You had managed to gain the upperhand by complete fluke.

This time you feel completely stuck. Movement completely restricted. Gitae straddles your hips and you’re left unable to escape. You have no way to get close and cause any damage.

"Looks like you lose," he says.

You buck your hips, trying to throw him off but the weight and strength difference is too vast. He barely moves even with all your effort and you’re left more dishevelled than before. Shirt riding up and hair in your eyes and mouth.

“Fuck,” you groan again, elongating the word and pouting.

You peer up at Gitae and find his eyes flicking between your jutted out bottom lip and your sliver of skin on show.

An idea pops into your head. It may be your worst one yet.

Throwing caution to the wind, you tilt your head up in one swift movement and kiss Gitae full on the mouth. You make contact harder than anticipated, almost clashing your teeth painfully together but adjusting the angle just in time.

His body stills when he realises what you’re doing.

“Why-” he asks, pulling away, and you take advantage of the distance to nip at his bottom lip and reel him back in.

Gitae’s thoughts are cut off.

You bite down roughly, feel your sharp canines punctuating skin.

Blood bursts onto your tongue and he lets out a guttural groan, eyes boring into yours and darkened with lust.

His other hand releases your wrist, caressing over your body, slipping down until it reaches your bare exposed skin. He slides his palm under your top, long, thick fingers splaying over your ribs.

With your hands now free, you continue kissing him, mingling spit and saliva and bursts of metallic tang.

You squirm and this time, Gitae gives in to what you want; rearranging his position without breaking contact. Tongue delving into your mouth. Tasting you as you wrap your legs around his hips.

Taking advantage of the situation, you hug your arms around his neck and use your body as leverage to flip him over. Straddling him as his hardness grinds into you and his hands circle your waist to press your body close.

You can feel exactly how turned on he is, how much he wants you. And god, you’re just as fucking horny. You want him just as badly, except now you’ve managed to climb on top, the whole point of this came rushing back. You absolutely hate yourself for stopping this but-

It’s the principle.

“You know,” you murmur into his mouth, then pushing up off his chest to sit up, “I think I’ve won. Again”

Gitae frowns at the sudden loss of contact, “What?”

“I’ve won. Pretend this is a knife,” you smirk, holding your hand against his throat, in an almost-mirror image of your previous position. “I would have killed you.”

Gitae’s eyes widened in surprise, “You did this… to win?”

“Yep!”

“I didn’t expect you to play so dirty.” He says, grinning maniacally as the pieces click into place and he finds himself completely captivated.

“I play as dirty as I need to,” you tell him, tongue swiping out to lick the remnants of his blood from your lips before dipping your head down to kiss him and continue where you left off.

#lookism #lookism x reader #gitae kim #kitae kim #kim gitae #gitae kim x reader #kim gitae x reader #a little bit of the classic ->#goo kim x reader #lookism fic #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #wannaeatramyeon

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heirofnight · 6 months ago

Text

five more sets

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 1.3k

based on this request: Can I request something? Could it be Azriel x reader and either you are Illyrian and want to learn to fight or someone who joins the Valkyries and you get to know each other through training ?? Does that make sense?

warnings: talks of alcohol consumption, feeling sick, sexual tension

a/n: this is probably going to end up being a mini-series because i'm loving the dynamic & i'd love to see where i can take this as it progresses! let me know what you think, and thank you for the request <3

you were about three seconds away from throwing a right hook into this male's jaw.

your chest was heaving with ragged breaths, and you were fairly certain that you could fill a bucket with the sweat that was accumulating underneath your training leathers. it was a viciously hot summer day in velaris, and you were really not in the mood to train - especially considering your indulgent night out at rita's that only found you returning home ... four hours ago.

you flickered your eyes up towards him, his wings were flared - your gaze was narrowed, your cheeks were flushed, and you were pissed.

you were hunched over, hands resting on your thighs as you fought to catch your breath.

azriel watched you carefully. he was so composed, as though he could perform this training regime in his sleep. his eyes flashed with amusement at your disheveled and agitated state, and that alone almost actually made you punch him.

"up," he ordered, voice firm, "another five sets of ladder drills," he nodded his chin towards the rope ladder that was spread on the ground in the middle of the training ring. you were meant to sprint across the ladder as quickly as possible, pulling your knees towards your chest as you did so.

you scoffed, standing up straight to place your hands on your hips indignantly.

"listen," you started, unfazed by his stoic demeanor, "i'm hot, i'm exhausted, and i'm still partially drunk," you finished, hoping he'd allow you to just call this entire session off early.

it'd been three weeks since nesta had convinced you to join the valkyries. you'd met her at a bookstore in the rainbow about six months ago, and had become fast friends - bonding over a similar taste in novels, and a very similar no-bullshit attitude. this facet of your personality was coming out to play today, especially as this male continued to push you to your limits when you obviously were not in the best shape.

she'd divulged information about the female clan of warriors that she'd been a part of, and you couldn't help but be interested - but she'd warned that the training regiment would be intense.

"you'll be training with azriel," she'd mentioned before your first session two weeks ago, "good luck," was the only warning she gave before you'd stepped foot into the ring to stand before the largest male you'd ever seen. he was swathed in shadows that rippled from him like smoke, and he assessed you as though he was committing your body to memory.

he then proceeded to put your ass through the wringer, and it seemed like he was having fun doing it.

you continued to watch azriel with a leveled gaze this morning, hoping to the gods that your list of reasons to cut this session short would hit home.

azriel just blinked once, shrugging his broad shoulders, "and?," he grumbled, as though he didn't understand why you'd divulged that information.

you rolled your eyes, dropping your hands to your sides, "and, i'd like to leave now," you sneered, pushing sweaty strands of hair from your face.

he smirked at your words, but there was minimal humor behind the action.

"no," he stated simply, "we still have another half hour," he continued, nodding back towards the rope ladder once more.

you bristled, annoyed by azriel's utter obsession with pushing your buttons - he'd been thoroughly enjoying riling you up since you became his training partner. he reveled in the reactions you'd give him each time he pushed you to your snapping point.

you turned on your heels and stalked towards the center of the wing, preparing to take on another five sets of this hellish exercise.

you assumed your stance on one end of the ladder, taking a deep breath, and then -

"perhaps you should learn to break the habit of drinking the night before an early training session," he mused, arms crossed across his chest. that stupid smirk had found its way to his full lips again, and if he weren't so annoying, you'd probably find his current stance sexy.

you glowered in his direction, and his smirk only grew. was that a dimple? gods alive.

"perhaps you should mind your own business," you spat, beginning the first set of ladder drills. you huffed, puffed, and your legs felt like they were going to give out beneath you.

azriel watched intently the entire time, and he'd deny it if he were ever asked, but he thought your ass looked delectable in your training leathers.

he cleared his throat, forcing himself to break his less than innocent train of thought.

"knees higher," he commanded, voice steady.

your temper flared but you complied, straightening your form and lifting your knees.

"there you go," he praised, "very good," his voice had lowered marginally, and you felt your cheeks grow even hotter at the sound.

you struggled your way through the last three sets, dizzy and stomach roiling. i'm never drinking again, you cursed to yourself.

you were adamant about ending training now, you didn't care what qualms azriel may have about it. you hobbled towards the black stretching mat, not giving the male even a fraction of a chance to add some other hell-sent workout to this morning's agenda.

az followed, stopping near the edge of the mat to peer down at your exhausted frame.

"that's it then?," he rumbled, huffing out an amused breath through his nose as he observed you.

you covered your eyes with the back of your arm, inhaling deep breaths through your nose. you didn't deign to give him an answer, choosing instead to focus on not spilling the contents of your stomach all over his feet.

he sighed, lowering on his knees before you to assist you with your stretching. he wrapped a firm, scarred hand around your left ankle, pulling your leg straight in order to begin working on your hamstrings.

you groaned, wincing through the pain that was shooting through your legs and lower back. azriel watched intently, trying his best to ignore the fact that he was knelt between your leather-clad legs.

this part was always the hardest for him - the part where he had to divert his attention literally anywhere else to avoid imagining what else he could do to you in positions very similar to this.

your eyes met his form, watching him carefully. the beaming sunlight allowed you to admire the glistening sheen against his golden skin, the freckles smattered across his cheeks and nose. his boyish curls that fell against his forehead and tucked around the nape of his neck.

the light was caressing his skin, almost as if it couldn't help but touch him. you couldn't blame it. azriel was the prettiest male you had ever seen.

he lifted your leg straight, scooting closer to rest your calve against his hard chest. his hips were pressed into your thighs now, and you had to clear your throat to distract yourself from the feeling.

he sensed the tension, and it almost made a smug smile creep across his features, but he refrained.

this was such a common theme between the both of you: he'd annoy you on purpose, you'd react, he'd revel in it. so much tension, and you both knew it. as soon as the both of you were close enough to share the same space, you'd falter, and he'd try his damndest to not do the same.

his hips accidentally jutted against yours as he switched to your right leg, and you'd had to close your eyes to avoid scooting down in order to prolong the contact.

gods, you'd thought to yourself, i'm so fucked.

"you're so tight," he'd mumbled mostly to himself, working his hands against a knot in your leg. your eyes snapped open immediately - you'd pay hefty amounts of gold to hear him utter that phrase again.

and of course, smug-ass azriel knew exactly what he was doing.

a/n: will this end up being a series? probably. i can't help myself. let me know what you think!

#azriel #azriel acotar #acotar #azriel fic #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel drabble #azriel shadowsinger #azriel angst

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eggyrocks · 2 months ago

Text

DRUNK WALK HOME

chapter eight: mistakes

masterlist

“and i was so young when i behaved twenty-five / yet now i find i’ve grown into a tall child” -fist love/late spring by mitski

It’s Wednesday, and Akaashi is reading her essay.

It’s clear that she actually tried this time, his pen marking up less of it than he normally would. He can tell she’s out of practice, some sentences rusty and awkward, blunt transitions and thoughts that trail off. But he can see her ideas better than before, more fleshed-out, more consistent.

He keeps looking up at her, stealing a glance between every other sentence or so. She’s slumped in her chair, arms crossed over her chest and staring off ahead, frowning. Akaashi can’t stop himself from thinking about how much she looks like her mother. She doesn’t look back at him.

“This essay’s a lot better than your last,” Akaashi mumbles, almost like he doesn’t want her to hear him. It makes him blush to say it, and he’s grateful she refuses to look at him. “Looks like you actually tried this time.”

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t react at all. She just sits there, with her jaw locked and her arms crossed, and does her best to pretend that Akaashi isn’t there.

He feels guilty. It gnaws away at him, and he has this impulse to apologize, which disgusts him. He doesn’t like that he’s wronged her, and now his sense of moral superiority has slipped. He doesn’t like that he wants to fix the damage he caused.

He looks up at her again, and sees no change in her posture, in her demeanor. He bounces his knee, and he can’t bring himself to look back down at her essay. Akaashi studies her, for a moment, the lines of her face, her narrowed eyes, the slow, deliberate breaths she takes.

She doesn’t notice him staring. Or, maybe she does, but is so committed to ignoring him that she chooses not to comment on it. He wants her to. He wants her to snap at him, call him a freak for staring, accuse him of being obsessed, insult him, belittle him, something.

But she just stares straight on, and Akaashi can feel himself starting to get desperate.

“How’d your visit with your mom go?” he asks, hoping to provoke her to respond, hoping she’ll say something vile to assuage his guilt.

“There’s only one more page left in the essay,” is the only response she gives him, though, and Akaashi is stuck.

He turns his attention back over to her essay, and rushes through the end of it. Akaashi rushes through correcting a run-on sentence or two and then slides the essay back over to her. “There, now you can-”

She slams her hand down on top of the stack of papers and snatches it away, standing at once. “Great, see you Friday,” she says, ready to leave.

“Wait,” Akaashi says, standing, “listen, I’m so-”

“I said I’ll see you Friday,” she interjects harshly, finally turning to face Akaashi. He notices the tears that build in her eyes then. He can’t tell if they’re from sadness or anger.

He’d never seen her cry before. There was a time when he didn’t think she was capable of it. Something in him softens, then, and he thinks that the damage he’s done is the kind that he wouldn’t be able to fix.

She turns on her heel and leaves, leaving Akaashi to stand there, at their table in the library.

It seems futile, then, to hate her. To hate someone so hated by their mother. To hate someone who so clearly hates herself. He hopes the feeling passes.

extras->

is akaashi genuinely remorseful for what he did? yes

is he mostly just trying to appease his guilt so he can go back to just plain hating yn? also yes

he sort of knew immediately that he fucked up; he picked up on the dynamics of yn and her mother before he even realized it was her mother

he was feeling defensive when kaori messaged him but it's been eating away at him since then

been quiet on the bokuto front

yn's roommates banded together when they realized her mom was coming to visit bc yn is always a complete mess afterwards and going out and drinking always makes it worse

once yn realized though she figured kaori and yukie were probably in on it and went straight to kuroo

kuroo always has a good time when he goes out with yn so he's always down

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @needtoloveoutloud @causenessus @kawaii-angelanne @thatonecroc @v1oletfury @lonesomedrive @nnnyxie @crownj1min @frvppe @mollyrolls @karasyuu @ciderscape @phoenix-eclipses @s1ckntw1st3d @cnnmairoll @soobin1437 @worldgyu @snail-squasher @dragonictears @ferntv @reignsaway @Lisoozi @staygoldsquatchling02 @gsyche @yuminako @spicana @hermaeusmorax @shoyostar @whorefornoodles @hqsimprevival2024 @atsumuenthusiast @lemonocityyy @itsdragonius @robinphobia @aboveasphodel @savemebrazilhinata @lllaw @dreamingofyeo @milesmoralesluvs @miliondollagirl

taglist is open, complete this form to be added

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq x you #haikyuu smau #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #hq x y/n #akaashi smau #akaashi x reader #akaashi x you #akaashi x y/n #akaashi keiji smau #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji x you #akaashi keiji x yn

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best-seungkwality · 3 months ago

Text

love to hate you

pairing: ellie williams x reader

summary: freshman mishaps led to the relationship you had with ellie today, but you don't know the other feelings she harbored for you.

contains/warnings: swearing, flirting, ooc fluff for ellie maybe? (but she was also so sweet in some scenes so cmon), enemies to lovers, college!au

word count: 2.7k

author's yap notes: i haven't actually immersed myself in tlou universe but like ellie's kinda cute or sumn and it takes a lot to inspire me into writing so im gna take advantage of this LMAO also i know abby n ellie r enemies but this is an au pls dont shoot me

would like to give credits for the dividers ofcc: c saradika, magnusthemes here in tumblr!

the sound of clicking against keyboards rang across the hall where your economics class was being held that early in the morning. honestly, it should've been banned to take such a complicated subject at an ungodly hour, and you haven't even began with the professor you got for this class. the only thing nice you got from this experience was being friends with someone as reliable as abby anderson.

"class dismissed."

abby was not the friendliest out there at first glance-- heck, you would've steered clear of her your whole college life if she didn't approach you first to make friends since she was in a different class from all her friends. you were just thankful you had someone to suffer through the class with at this point because you would not have survived otherwise.

if you were anything in college, you were the fastest campus leaver. but this was economics, a class where you actually had a friend to hang out with after enduring the lecture. only, you weren't feeling the extroverted introvert you were today, so you were already racking up your brain for some excuse to abby to go straight to your dorms while you two were on your way out.

"hey, n/n, raincheck on lunch today. need to meet up with someone for another project," abby told you, slinging her backpack on while messaging someone on her phone.

she truly was an angel in disguise. she made the excuse for you even without knowing you needed it.

"oh, no problem. was thinking of staying in in the dorm anywa-"

"abby, hey."

you looked over your taller friend's shoulders and saw the infamous ellie williams sauntering towards you two with her usual slightly grumpy expression. you clicked your tongue in annoyance, seeing the one person you hoped you wouldn't bump into at least this week. it was hell week in your department already, and you thought the fates had spared you because it was already friday, but you guessed they were saving their worst surprise for last.

"ah great," you mumbled under your breath, but abby still managed to catch it. she chuckled at the switch of expressions on both her friends' faces once they had seen each other and took a step back for their usual greeting-- or square off.

"what are you doing hogging abby again, princess pansy?" ellie stuck out her tongue, pocketing her hands.

you narrowed your eyes at her and attempted to slap her shoulder, but she was quick on her feet and moved away seconds before you could even land a finger on her hair. like a child, she repeated her earlier gesture, making abby step in front of you to block you. with your hands balled like that, she was sure you were about to commit a violation just to get even with ellie’s taunts. abby was well aware of your goals of graduating with latin honors, and there was no way she was going to let you waste that on a sick punch on ellie, no matter how much she wanted to see it.

you huffed and turned to look at abby instead, pretending that there was no ellie williams trying to annoy the hell out of you. “i seriously don’t know how you’re still friends with that loser.”

“you’re the loser!”

abby playfully pushed ellie aside for a moment before replying, “she’s rough around the edges, but she’s nice, trust me.”

a scoff left your mouth before you shook your head and muttered your goodbyes to your friend before walking away, ignoring ellie’s last words like a new agnostic to jesus.

you actually thought ellie was truly nice when you first laid your eyes on her until she proved that that stopped at her features (yes, you weren’t going to lie and say she didn’t look good— she was hot, for goodness’ sake). she had become your sworn enemy one day when you were partnered up randomly for a pairwork in one of your common general education subjects. you had tried your best to include her in the project and get her to help, but you would only see on her facebook stories that she was either clubbing, drinking, or doing other shit college students did. you had a social life too, but you would never inconvenience anyone for it unlike her.

that was why you thought it would be best to save all the receipts you had on her, deliver the report on your own, and submit the written work with the proof that you indeed tried your best to get ellie’s cooperation until you had the right to give up on her. the professor accepted your reason and didn’t dock off points on the rapport criterion, but ellie had other qualms. she had the audacity to object to what you had done, claiming you didn’t try enough, but your proof were too solid versus her claims, so ellie had failed that requirement and needed to take removals.

she confronted you about, and you two ended up bickering at the back of one of the oldest buildings in university so that neither of you would be documented. but even when the fight was kept hidden, it eventually became known in school because ellie had decided to humiliate you one lunch, telling people about how you threw her under the bus. being unable to deal with the public humiliation, you ran out of there and swore ellie williams was nothing to you, no matter how hot of a person she was. she was an asshole to you forever, end of story.

you entered your shared room with a scowl on your face, bringing out your laptop and opening up a streaming site to watch modern family. you deserved to cool off with your comfort sitcom before delving into the pile of homework you had to do for the day.

ellie typed furiously on her laptop, mind still fresh from her encounter with you yesterday. it annoyed her so much that she couldn’t even cram her lab report with abby in peace, and the deadline was in two hours! god, if she could just get in your face and-

she froze. she knew exactly where that thought was already headed before it even finished. she groaned out loud, even more annoyed this time, which caught her friend’s attention. abby raised an eyebrow, but she simply let out a ‘tch’ and tried to continue filling in the tables with values she knew were going to yield an extraordinary error. she just couldn’t get you out of her mind even if she wanted to— even if you loathed you. there was something about you and your little interactions that excited the hell out of her that she felt she even loved to hate you because of it.

she wanted to punch herself. that was gradeschool ellie discovering she liked women. why can she not get a grip now?

“i don’t know how you put up with miss uptight two days a week. i can’t even stand her for a minute,” ellie began, eyebrows furrowing, but she wasn’t sure whether the frustration was towards her missing the deadline or the girl that would not leave her head.

“still thinking about her, i see,” abby teased, humming a romantic tone right after. “just admit you’re down bad and would like her on your bed, el.”

her head shot up, face obviously distressed at what she just heard. “gross! grow up, abby.”

abby rolled her eyes and looked up from her screen. “you grow up. you obviously have feelings for her. you can fool anyone but me. you like y/n.”

ellie felt that she was getting too red, so she shut herself up first before she could say something that abby would obviously know how to retort at. it was like she was an open damn book whenever this certain friend of hers was around. maybe it had to do with the fact that they went through shit first before becoming people they feel could be relied on. that, or ellie was really just that easy to read.

“what even happened that y/n hates your guts that much?”

she stopped typing and slumped down in her seat. “i messed up little miss perfect’s sched then humiliated her for it.” she sighed at abby’s raised eyebrow. “i promised to help with one project we were partnered up for, but i was a stupid freshman who just wanted to have fun, so she ended up adjusting her whole month to do everything by herself. i hated how she ratted me out because i thought that was so uncool in college, so i humiliated her in a college cafeteria. are you satisfied?”

her friend shrugged her shoulders. “nah. i haven’t heard the part where you said you were sorry. and why you still hate her.”

ellie pulled the hood of her jacket up and then on the strings to squish the clothing over her face, hiding in embarrassment. “i act like i hate her. it’s the only way i can talk to her now. i haven’t really said sorry too.”

abby laughed, making her jaw drop slightly in offense.

“she was right. you’re such a loser.”

speaking of who was right, ellie, from the corner of her eyes, saw you dragging yourself into the same library they were in. (she hated how automatic it was for her at this point to catch her silhouette). apparently, her college’s library was your favorite library, and she couldn’t blame you. it had good comfort rooms, chilly ac units, endless charging ports, working areas for all kinds of people, and you could bring coffee in it.

she watched the girl begrudgingly walk towards one of the desks for sharing, making sure you got the outlet that came with it. it seemed to be your spot because knowing you somehow, you would need optimal conditions to work.

“who- oh, your crush is here,” abby cheered quietly, making ellie clamp a hand over her noisy mouth. they nonetheless got the stare from the young librarian, who seemed to be stricter than the senior librarians. they both nodded their heads in apologies before ellie could look over to where you were again.

“you should talk to her. ask her if she wants coffee or something, cos she’s not looking too good.”

abby looked at her like she was nuts. “why are you ordering me around as if i’m your servant. go do that, since you’re so lovestruck and concerned for her.”

“isn’t she your friend?”

“yeah, but she needs a lover more.”

“shut up!”

ellie groaned, planting her face onto the laptop, not minding how much it hurt. these moments reminded her how much of an ass abby could be to her. but it looked like she wasn’t going to budge in her seat, because she was now back to typing away on her laptop.

hesitantly, she got up and walked towards your table, trying to act confident even though she knew you might eat her alive with your smart mouth. god, you could just e-

she shook her head, hoping those thoughts would be gone too. she was standing by your table, hoping as well that she didn’t look that much of a creep from an outsider’s perspective. your back was facing her, since you were face down and probably resting for a bit before locking in for whatever you had to finish. ellie mustered her courage, took in a huge breath, then tapped your shoulder lightly. she became a bit bewildered when you had not responded to the fifth tap, wondering if you had supersight at the back of your head to know you should be ignoring the person bothering you.

but she noticed how limp you hand had gotten, and her eyes widened, rushing to your other side. if she had not seen a person passed out medically, she wouldn’t have been able to tell that y/n probably blacked out from some reason, but thankfully, she knew. within seconds, she had already scooped you up and gathered you in her arms, with abby shouting in the library what the heck she was doing, but she could care less. you were her priority.

that was why you looked like hell the moment you entered. your dark eyebags confirmed that you probably overexerted yourself, leading to the blackout. she knew you were a high achiever, but she didn’t know you were a stupid one. how could you let your academics take control of your life to the point that you would sacrifice your health? she was going to have to speak to you about this when you were better. preferably the moment you woke up.

but right now, she had rushed inside the infirmary and laid you down on one of the beds. a nurse thankfully came to check on you at once calling the doctor to diagnose what was wrong. after pacing around the medical professionals, ellie heard them say that you were very dehydrated and decided to inject IV fluids in you to aid your body. they quickly got to work so you could recover faster.

ellie thanked the doctor and nurses and sat down beside you, taking your hand. “god you fucking scared me,” she muttered under her breath, bringing your hand to her cheek. “for someone at the top of your classes, you’re awfully stupid.” she didn’t realize her scolding would happen even before you woke up.

“you’re seriously gonna be the death of me. i can’t even take care of you the way i want to until your unconscious,” ellie looked at you worriedly. “god, let me take care of you, stubborn-head. give me a chance, i’ll make everything right. i sound like a pussy. i just like you that much, okay.”

your eyes fluttered open at the confession, locking them with hers at that moment.

“…what?”

ellie dropped your hand and stood up at once. “what?” she covered her face in embarrassment, immediately turning red. “how are you awake so fast?”

your eyebrows crossed. “do you want me to stay half-dead or something?”

“no! i meant- ugh, i’m not prepared for this.”

“for what? for declaring your love for me?”

ellie gasped, looking offended. “i didn’t say ‘love’ yet!” she pointed at you as if accusing you of something. “ugh, you’re so annoying.”

you sat up with a small smile, and she knew you knew you had the upperhand in this situation. this was just turning out to be the worst week ellie had had. if she knew you were going to here her random confession, she would’ve prepared some more. you just had to be awake right now.

“well, sorry,” you said, deflating a bit. ellie panicked once again and finally sat down. she took your hand gently and let out a breath.

“i’m sorry, just-…” she looked you in the eyes (this is so cheesy, she hated it) and hoped the sincerity would reach you, “i’m sorry for what happened during freshman year. i was stupid, and i can’t take that shit back. but i’ve liked you for the longest time, and god knows this stupid little crush has made me daydream about you at least thrice a day, and i guess what i’m saying is— god, will you be with me? even if it takes some time?”

you smiled wryly. “the famous ellie williams rambling… i could get used to this.”

ellie groaned out loud and smushed her face into the infirmary’s bed. but she was just hiding her smile because she herself didn’t know that someone could make her ramble stupidly like this. you were well aware of your power over her too.

“look at me ellie.” like a pet, she did. “i’d be lying if i said i wasn’t attracted to you. i honestly would like to like you, but we have to do so much work, especially that i don’t feel that resolved yet with what happened back then. i know you felt like i blindsided you, but i suffered a lot even though i know i did nothing wrong. it’s gonna take a lot of time. are you willing to put in that kind of work with me?”

ellie brought your hand to her cheeks again. “no doubt about it.”

a wide, genuine smile finally broke out your face. “alright. i love to hate you, but i’d like to love you only now, williams.”

she returned the gesture, giving a light kiss on your knuckles. “love to hate ya, but i love to love you more, princess.”

#wlw #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams x reader #the last of us #lesbians #getit

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dreamdolldiary · 1 year ago

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a simple, no BS rundown on how to ACTUALLY reach your goals

Because grass is greener where you water it. Not the other side.

1. Stop the overconsumption

This is #1 for a reason because just like the majority of individuals who set goals and research how, we often find ourselves stuck in a

"get inspired > overconsume self care content > we get that quick dopamine > never actually pursue our goals or cannot go 1-3 months without being consistent." cycle.

That all ends with this post. Let me keep it simple and straight to the point. Your brain is not designed to hold an overload of information at once for something so straightforward as the pursuit of goals - there is never a need to go down a YouTube or Tumblr self care post rabbit hole when they all essentially regurgitate the same, core information.

Besides, no amount of information will prove beneficial if you aren't willing to commit to goal execution.

2. Identify your ULTIMATE goal

Look back on all the years that have gone by. What aspect of your life makes you feel like you need to improve? What do you truly want to achieve right NOW?

Was it the lack of exercise you got? Your low grades? Your poor relationships with others and yourself? Mental health issues? Unhappy with your job? Financial stress? Pinpoint the areas of your life that carry the most weight at this time.

Depending on what you feel, you may feel unhappy with the way you handle your responsibilities or the way you can't seem to navigate through your hardships.

An example goal to combat these problems would be: to be more self reliant.

Now, narrow down your focus to three pivotal habits that will guide you toward this ultimate goal.

3. Focus on 3 KEY HABITS that help you achieve that ULTIMATE goal

I think being self reliant should be or is a subliminal goal everyone has. I mean, this is your life, only you can make things happen and that all depends on your self reliance.

Narrow down your focus to three pivotal habits that will guide you toward this ultimate goal.

The 3 Key Habit Areas:

Productivity

Skills

Exercise

Pick 1 for each.

Why only 3 habits? What person doesn't want to be good at a million things? While wanting to constantly reinvent ourselves and have a reset or implement the 12 week year into our lives, it’s very easy to get carried away.

Yes, not even the sky's the limit! You can be and do whatever your heart yearns if you know it's your calling or if you truly know it'll make you happy but when it comes to goal setting, we will pile so much more than we can handle at once and you know what that does?

Creates excitement

As we try to tackle all these goals/habits, it gets overwhelming- unsustainable.

And because it got overwhelming, you'll start to "fall behind" on being consistent in every one.

If you "fail" to be consistent or expect yourself to be a master at it within the first 2 weeks, you'll throw in the towel and say "Well. Since I can't do this, I might as well give up altogether."

And you go on living the same life you wanted to improve from.

So AS MUCH as you want to do it all right now, take it slow and easy. This isn't to say you can't be all the things you aspire to be. I am saying to take it one step at a time. You have to walk before you can run.

"The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."

Ideas for those 3 key habits

Habit: a settled or regular tendency or practice, especially one that is hard to give up.

Productivity:

Practice the 2 minute rule

Create a time block schedule that is flexible

Plan the next day and set priorities on your to-do list

Practice digital minimalism

Wake up at 5-6am and allocate “me time” before you jump into work/studying.

Skills:

Learn a tech skill (coding, editing/design, typing)

Learn a high value language (immerse, learn the alphabet)

Have better handwriting

Learn calligraphy

Dedicate AT LEAST an hour to this habit everyday. Choose something you enjoy. Don't make this feel like a chore.

Exercise:

10k steps a day

Practice dance (choreography online, ballet, jazz, contemp.)

Martial arts inspired exercises

100 crunches a day

Add stretching to these habits

3. Create a SIMPLE, fail proof plan that works for YOU.

"If you fail to plan, you plan to fail."

3 habits. 2 of which should take at least 2 hours of your whole day. If you can't do that then you need some self-assessing to do.

Assess whether you work better in the morning or at night

Plan what hours you're going to do them.

Print out a paper with a time block schedule, set it infront of your desk, make it a widget on your phone, tape it on your room wall- anywhere where you can easily keep track of the time and what you should be doing now and in the next hour.

Example schedule that most people can relate to:

Productivity | Skill | Exercise

Wake up at 6am - me time (skincare, calm music, stretch)

7am - Full body exercise.

8-9am - Get ready for the day and head to work

13:00 - Break time (read a book, walk around for some peace of mind, or immerse yourself in the language you chose)

17:00 - Come back home and rewind. (eat, settle down, walk the dog)

18:00 - Learn how to code

19:00 - Get ready for the next day by planning

20:00 - Shower & get ready for bed

4. Reflect, always!

Keep a track of your consistency.

This doesn't have to be an inconvenience or all set to be pretty and aesthetic.

Print out a habit tracker and tape it, along with a pen on a wall, next to your vanity, wherever is convenient and hard to miss so you can easily mark it off.

If it's close to bedtime, make it a routine to check what you have yet to accomplish.

You knocked off learning how to code, your phone says you walked 10k steps, but you see that you forgot to drink water? Then drink a sufficient glass of water, and place a check in the box.

Quick. Simple. Easy. No excuses.

There. 1 week goes by, soon 3 weeks, then a month, that month turns into 2, then 3, and those "goals" are now habits. A part of your daily routine. They become non-negotiables.

Just like how it's routine for you to go to wake up, brush your teeth, and get dressed everyday.

Now that you created a set of habits, you can build upon them. In a few months time when you feel that it is right, create another action plan and introduce 3 new habits.

For example, you can try another dance style, wake up at an even earlier time, and you can learn how to speak another language or to put it simply, make it goal to reach an advanced level of your new skills

Another example could be towards a more specific ultimate goal. Like taking care of your outward appearance.

Habits for that ultimate goal can look like:

Putting on skincare oils to reduce scars

Growing your glutes + massaging your muscles

showering + brushing your teeth everyday

Rinse and repeat.

Remember that only you can save you. Only you are there for you. Your future is built now.

You don't need luck. You need self love.

— dreamdolldiary ₊˚🕯️♱‧₊˚.

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dewdropdinosaur · 5 months ago

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Kinktober Day 7: Bruising or Biting

Summary: You get injured while working at the factory and low-and-behold your clothes get torn. Carmilla, ever the concerned and watchful boss, make it known how well she can take care of you. Warnings: Implied smut, bruises, biting, etc. PG-13 Kinktober Mention of the Day: @pixie-skull I know you didn't request this but it seemed like something you may like and I wanted to treat someone as amazing as you! Go check out his art edits, they're so good!!

Steam and smog emitted in large plumes from the weapons factory run by Carmilla Carmine, the air was thick with the scent of metal and oil; punctuated by the hum of machinery. You were deeply engrossed in your work, calibrating a series of prototype weapons that had come straight from the mind of the ruthless queen of industry herself. Each click and whir of the machines resonated with your commitment to quality, but today felt different. The atmosphere crackled with an unspoken tension, one that grew palpable every time Carmilla made one of her routine visits.

As you tightened a bolt on the latest prototype, the factory doors swung open, revealing Carmilla in her signature tailored suit, the sharp lines accentuating her every move. She was a vision of confidence, and the way her crimson eyes scanned the room sent a shiver down everyone’s spine.

“Y/N,” Carmilla called, her voice smooth as silk, drawing the engineer’s attention. “How’s progress on the new line?”

“Going well, I think,” you replied, forcing a calmness into your tone despite the fluttering in your chest. “We should be ready for the initial tests by next week.”

“Good,” Carmilla said, stepping closer, her eyes narrowing as she examined the weapon. “But I want it perfect. You know how the investors are.”

Nodding, a hint of determination glimmering in your gaze, you went back to work. Just then, a loud crash echoed through the factory as a nearby assembly line malfunctioned, causing a cascade of metal parts to tumble to the floor. Without thinking, you nstinctively bolted from your desk to stabilize a falling piece, but your timing was off. In a split second, a heavy metal arm swung dangerously close, catching you off guard. Attempting to dodge the shrapnel, you swerved but it just grazed your side, knocking you off balance. The world tilted as you stumbled, trying to catch yourself, but failing as you fell hard against the cold concrete; a sharp pain shooting through your side.

“Y/N!” Carmilla’s voice sliced through the chaos, laced with an urgency that was unusual for her. She rushed to your side, kneeling down to assess the damage. The factory around her flashed with red lights, white sparks flying everywhere as workers rushed around trying to bring order back. You winced, feeling the pressure of Carmilla’s hands as they examined your side. It wasn’t just the physical pain that caught you off guard; it was the intensity of Carmilla’s gaze, filled with a mix of concern and something deeper. Pulling you out of the room with ease, the older woman sat you down on a sofa outside the factory room.

Carmilla’s fingers brushed against your shirt, tearing the fabric slightly and revealing the mottled bruises that decorated your skin—remnants of previous accidents that you had tried to hide. Your breath caught in your throat, a rush of vulnerability flooding your system. You had never wanted Carmilla to see you like this, exposed and flawed. Carmilla's expression softened as she traced the bruises with her fingertips, an uncharacteristic gentleness gracing her features.

“You should be more careful,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. The proximity was intoxicating, and you felt a warmth spread through you, despite the pain. Well, maybe it was the pain, actually.

“I’m usually careful,” you replied, forcing a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “Just... a little off time today.”

Carmilla’s eyes flickered, a mix of amusement and something else—something you had dared to hope for but never fully acknowledged. “You need to be more than just careful, Y/N. You need to take care of yourself.” There was a weight to her words.

“I will,” Y/N promised, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. “I just—”

But before you could finish, Carmilla leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a low murmur. “I mean it. You can’t keep pushing yourself like this. I’d hate to see you hurt more seriously.” The sincerity in her tone sent a thrill through you, struggling to process the electric tension in the air. You could see the flicker of emotions in Carmilla's eyes—desire mingled with concern—and you felt a daring urge to bridge the gap that exisited.

“I’ll do my best,” you replied, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of feelings. “For you.”

Carmilla's gaze softened even further, a small smirk forming on her face as her gaze fell to the marks on your skin. You shirt half torn, revealing your toned and experienced body, her eyes fillting to take peaks at what she could gleam from the fabric of your bra that stuck out. Reaching out and tracing her fingertips lightly over the material, she leaned close and her hot breath fanned over the shell of your ear.

“I think there could be a way for you to make it up to me.”

Gulping, a hot blush spread across your feature. Were you dreaming, was the impact causing a concussion? Surely, this couldn’t be happening.

“I can think of many ways that I could bruise that pretty neck of yours myself. Mhmm, what do you say to that my little perfect employee?”

How could you say no? Especially when she pulled you into that broom closet and you could feel her teeth on your neck for weeks.

#hazbin hotel fandom #romance #answered #carmila carmine #carmilla x reader #carmilla carmine x reader #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #wlw post #wlw ns/fw #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #lgbt pride

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clemelntine · 1 month ago

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The Heart killers ep 11 stray thoughts

With accompanying screenshots, cuz I take to many and they can't just go to waste

Once again/still Keen just wants to be included. Now that he has seen Lilly will never see him as equel to his brothers, he is trying to get validation from Bison and Fadel.

Right, cuz you look like you're good at that. We will just pretend that we haven't seen your backbone turn into jelly when you're around Captain

Wait, so they didn't kill him. Where has he been this whole time, in between staging his murder and this scene? Was he just chilling with Nont in Fadel and Bisons kidnapping lair (which they apparently have).

He just knows a guy, casual .

He also just has a whole plan planned out. You'd think he was the one with the training in this shit, not Fadel

The look of concern in his eyes. Because of course, Style was able to spot the slight change in Fadels expression, indicating he was upset/weary/uncomfortable.

Doesn't he say younger brother (nong chai/shai [im not sure how it is written]) here, why would they translate it like that, this makes it seem like he doesnt see Fadel as his brother.

Finally somebody is giving that tattoo the love it deserves.

Facts

Also the first time (or one of the rare occasions) that we see Fadel with genuine, borderline crazy/psychotic anger in his eyes. He's usually the one to be more calm and

Oh, they're using their height, narrowing in on her, forcing her to look up, making her feel small. Stunning, just what she deserves.

-I love you so much; I'd give up my freedom for your safety

-I love you so much; I'd give up my life for your freedom.

Also, btw, 5 years of prison for the number of murders they committed, thats pretty nice. Of course, i wanted them to be free, but looking at it logistically, that is a solid deal

It does imply a timeskip, whomp whomp

Just give me a clear yes or no. Is Bison religious (christian, to be specific)? Cuz this is just a saying and stuff, but also putting it next to all the other christian Bison stuff we've seen, im starting to believe it

Ah, look at that. Fadel got his family (parent), and Bison got his little brother (Babe). These boyfriends are adding way more to their life then you would first assume.

Also, Styles dad immediately suggesting they get married as soon as he realizes they are genuinely dating it ao cute. He has/knows as lil casual-/subtlety as Style does. I guess it's genetic

Omg they are so sweet. Not hiding/secret but private cuz its their communication, their comfort.

I needed this scene to be like an hour long actually, just them cleaning each other with the garden hose, sweetly talking about whatever.

Right. I'm not surprised, I could tell Style was a bitter but like looking at his and Joongs laugh afterwards (and just the absurd inconvenience of it) I'm gonna guess this wasn't scripted, just Dunk. Which.. raises some questions, but we'll keep moving.

Dude was straight up beefing with a child

So he is either assuming hell die a natural death or he's killing himself. Cus i assumed he'd probably die on the job, get killed by someone, but that for sure requires there to be another person. I guess he could also be insinuating that when he dies, he'll be alone in the sense that he is leaving no one behind, no loved ones.

Idk what is sadder him thinking no one would love him when he died or him assuming he'll die by his own hand.

Are they at a graveyard? It doesn't look like it. Because, im not very educated on Thai law, but i can't think it would be legal to just bury someone wherever.

Style earlier the episode saying he'll die for Fadel(s safety) and Fadel saying he'll live for (/with) Style. God, i love them

Glad we are at least acknowledging the absurdity of it.

Are we talking (/joking) about Bison lactating? Cuz that would make that this shows second mpreg/omegaverse reference.

Forever watchfull Style

Forever considerate Style. Even with the garage to work at (and low key co-run) he is willing to give up time, just to keep Fadels dream/passion alive

Did Style fucking make a heart out of the sauce?! Why didn't we get a better shot of that, that is so cute.

So all the other boys his dad mentioned were just one night stands and situationships. Fadel was the first guy he actually wanted to settle down with. (Also, dont take this to mean anything, but it kinda mirrors Joong and Dunk. Joong having had an acting partner before Dunk, but splitting up under unfortunate circumstances, mostly out of their hands. Joong being Dunks' first actor partner, only having had a small unnamed guest role before working together with Joong)

Ive never seen to guys look so sad while eating burgers , like it was actually making me emotional. Cuz there was no big sad outburst or anything, just the everpresent underlying knowledge that this will be the last meal they'll get to share in a long time. Just the subtle sadness in their eyes and the little sniffles. I low key didnt expect them to be this good at conveying such subtle yet intense emotions.

The look in their eyes, i am actually so not okay

Not to be critical or anything but no way in shit that was done by an amateur. Like i get he'd have a pretty steady hand due to his training with guns. Bit not only does Bison usually hold his gun with both hands, it is an entirely different grip and requires such different muscles.

Yo wtf, I wasn't prepared for an emotional scene of just Kant and Style crying

This episode was just so full of cute scenes omg. I have so many notes that are just screenshots of a sweet scene or moment where the only comment I had was just saying aaahhw or some shit. And although I would love to share those with you, Tumblr has an image limit, so unfortunately, this is all I could stuff into one post.

I am a lil weary/concerned with how they are going to finish this all in one episode though. Like we have five years of prison to still cover and only an hour of screentime left.

Favorite scenes

Lillys confrontation was very satisfying

Style and Fadel cleaning eachother of after the paint fight ofc

Kant and Bison in the planetarium (specifically watching the stars)

Fadel and Style at the support group talking things out

Everything in Heart Burger, from the cute cooking together to eating through tears. Absolute perfection.

Kant and Bison tattooing eachother and just the sweetness of that all

And although their goodbye and Kant and Style crying in eachothers arms wasn't fun, it was a really good scene.

Also, there are no in-depth screenshot stats today (this post has already taken too long). Just know I took a total of 245 screenshots (funfact: that is actually more picture than I have of myself on my phone)

#what a fucking rollercoaster of an episodes #decided to just put in all the emotions #the heart killers #the heart killers the series #fadelstyle #fadel thk #style thk #kantbison #kant thk #bison thk #and like ig #keen thk #lilly thk #joongdunk #joong archen #dunk natachai #firstkhaotung #first kanaphan #khaotung thanawat

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mattszombie · 23 days ago

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FAKING IT? || M.STURNIOLO

chapter 6

enemy!matt x fem!reader. YOU ARE TESS!

Tess gritted her teeth, fingers hovering over her phone screen as she debated her response. Every part of her wanted to send back something scathing, something that would wipe that smug grin off Matt’s face—because she knew he was smirking at his phone right now, probably loving every second of this.

Instead, she locked her phone and threw it onto the bed. Out of sight, out of mind.

Jordyn, of course, was watching with far too much amusement. “You know ignoring him is only going to make him try harder, right?”

Tess flopped onto the bed with an exaggerated groan. “Why is my life like this?”

Sophie chuckled sleepily. “Because the universe loves drama. And honestly? So do I.”

Jordyn nodded. “Same.” Then she smirked. “You should wear the hoodie to practice.”

Tess sat up so fast she almost got whiplash. “Are you insane?”

Jordyn shrugged, like she wasn’t trying to start a war. “I mean, at this point, people already think there’s something going on. Might as well commit to the bit.”

Sophie grinned. “Ooooh, yeah. Fake dating era?”

Tess gaped at them. “No. Absolutely not.”

Jordyn just gave her a knowing look. “Alright, alright. But if I see that hoodie on you again, just know I’m gonna start placing bets on when you two finally snap and make out.”

Tess grabbed a pillow and whacked her with it.

Tess arrived at the field earlier than usual, needing time to get her head on straight before dealing with Matt. She was still mentally screaming over that stupid video and the way people were now looking at her like she and Matt were some kind of thing.

She was tying her cleats when a familiar voice drawled behind her.

“Well, well. Look who decided to show up early. Dedicated captain behavior.”

Tess clenched her jaw before glancing up. And there he was—Matt Sturniolo, lacrosse stick over his shoulder, smirking down at her like he was enjoying her misery.

“Go away, Sturniolo.”

“Not possible,” he shot back. “Seeing as we’re co-captains and all.” He took a seat beside her on the bench, stretching his legs out. “So, you gonna thank me for keeping you warm last night, or…?”

Tess turned to glare at him. “I hate you.”

Matt just smirked wider. “You keep saying that, but your actions?” He gestured lazily. “Kinda telling a different story.”

Tess narrowed her eyes, opening her mouth to argue—except, at that moment, one of the guys from the boys’ team jogged past and winked at her.

Her stomach dropped.

“Oh my God,” she muttered, realization hitting like a truck. “They all saw the video, didn’t they?”

Matt stretched his arms behind his head, looking way too pleased. “Yup.”

Tess let out a frustrated groan. “I am going to kill Jordyn.”

Matt chuckled. “Hey, don’t be mad at her. She’s just giving the people what they want.”

She whipped her head toward him. “And what exactly do they want?”

Matt tilted his head, pretending to think. “Hmm. Probably to see us make out.”

Tess actually choked. “Excuse me?”

Matt just grinned. “I’m just saying, if we did fake date, we could totally milk this for all it’s worth.”

She stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “You cannot be serious.”

“Oh, I’m so serious,” he said, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Think about it, Tess. We play into it for a little bit—ride the hype, make people lose their minds. Then we ‘break up’ and go back to hating each other. Win-win.”

Tess wanted to shut it down immediately. To tell him he was an idiot and that there was no way in hell she’d fake date him of all people.

But then she glanced toward the field, where their teams were gathering—where people were still giving her looks.

Rumors were already spreading.

The damage was done.

Her fingers curled around her lacrosse stick as she looked back at Matt, who was watching her expectantly. Smugly.

And God help her…

She was actually considering it.

After practice Tess sighed dramatically as she slid into the passenger seat, scrunching her nose as she took in the dimly lit parking lot. “Eugh, why did we have to talk in your hookup spot?”

Matt laughed, shaking his head as he leaned back in the driver’s seat. “This isn’t my hookup spot. But good guess.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “Really? Because this screams ‘Sturniolo Makeout Headquarters.’”

He smirked. “Nah, if I was bringing you to my hookup spot, you’d know.”

Tess made a disgusted face. “Jesus Christ, you’re actually insufferable.”

Matt only grinned. “And yet, you’re still here.”

She groaned, rubbing her temples. “Let’s just get this over with. What’s your big plan, genius?”

Matt turned to face her, his usual cocky expression settling in. “Alright, here’s the deal. We fake date. We make people believe it. We shut down the rumors and own the narrative.”

Tess eyed him suspiciously. “And why, exactly, do you want to do this? You love when people talk about you.”

Matt shrugged. “Yeah, but I love messing with people even more. And watching everyone lose their minds over us? That sounds fun as hell.”

Tess exhaled through her nose. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

Matt blinked. “Wait—really?”

“But,” she continued, pointing a finger at him, “we make it a competition.”

His brows lifted in intrigue. “I’m listening.”

“Whoever convinces the most people that we’re actually together wins,” Tess explained, tilting her head. “And the winner gets the MVP title. No backing out.”

Matt’s lips curled into a grin. “Damn, I love the way you think.”

She smirked. “I know.”

He held out his pinky. “Deal?”

Tess narrowed her eyes. “A pinky promise? Seriously?”

“Pinky promises are legally binding,” Matt said, completely serious.

Rolling her eyes, she hooked her pinky around his. “Fine. Deal.”

Matt’s grin widened. “This is gonna be fun.”

She shook her head. “One more thing.”

He raised a brow. “Oh boy.”

“We can’t tell anyone it’s fake,” she said firmly. “Not your brothers. Not Jordyn. Not Sophie. No one.”

Matt tilted his head. “Even Chris?”

“Especially Chris,” Tess said. “He would never let me live this down.”

Matt snorted. “Yeah, okay. Good call.”

She smirked. “I know.”

Matt rolled his eyes but looked way too entertained. “Alright, Coleman. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

Tess leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms. “Oh, you have no idea what you just signed up for, Sturniolo.”

A/N: chapter 7 probably won’t be put up until way later tonight cause i have lil date.

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velvetvexations · 2 months ago

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My commentary on the whole "if dipper is transmasc mable is a terf" thing is that dipper and Mabel are 12 years old and exist in a cartoon set in 2012. Mable does not know what a terf is. Mabel is 12 years old, 12 year Olds can't be terfs. If her actions persisted into adulthood yeah she'd be transphobic but she is a cartoon character who can never age. I don't look at a real life 12 year old saying transphobic things and think they're a terf, because that's stupid. I'm sure if this character could have the intricacies of transphobia explained to her she'd understand her actions were wrong, but she can't, because she's a twelve year old from a cartoon that stopped airing in 2016.

the anon who pointed out it's exactly the same with Chihiro is so gigabrained

cannot get over how much some transfems get mad at transmascs for doing the same shit transfems do. "transmascs are obsessed with headcanoning characters as transmasc even when it makes no sense" coming from the "estrogen would save her" crowd is, maddening

well thanks to epistemological standpoint trans women will always have a deeper and more complex relationship to gender

Its literally nauseating and disgusting listening to - say that trans mascs don't face the same rate of SA as trans fems or that we're lying about the statistics of the violence against us

I know anon <3

whats really funny about the whole "mabel would be transphobic" thing is that she would be transphobic regardless. saying that someone isn't a man cuz they're too girly is transphobic. like just straight up. it's not like. the worst form of transphobia ever. but it's like how telling a guy that he throws like a girl is still sexist regardless. and you know what? mabel is 12. she's a child. so what if she's a little bit mean? the whole thing is just so stupid because it's trying to make a headcanon thats relatively completely innocent seem problematic. and idk if i really want that sort of precedent to be set around trans headcanons. anyways i hope ur having a good day ^^

I keep saying this but it's wild how the "trans men are so comfortable with being girls and calling themselves girls" crowd is dogmatic that a twelve year old girl misgendering a twelve year old trans boy is committing the worst possible crime against him.

- i'm sorry but is this person implying that in order to not be discriminated against trans men should stop being men or is it something out of my fucked-up head?

Unintentionally, yes.

Idk if you saw the Twitter blahaj drama but like, some trf’s loose their minds if trans men also like a stuffed animal but god fucking forbid we also have transmasc headcanons like idk it’s always the same people doing this shit too at this point I think they just hate any other kind of trans person and just post-hoc rationalize it whenever there’s a “”tme”” being happy

Correct! And then transmasc TRFs are like "so true queen, don't these sissies know that being a man is all about suffering."

Potentially hot take but if you really REALLY can't find a trans actor to play your trans character I would VASTLY prefer a cis actor of the character's actual gender not their ASAB. "But anon, what if they're early transition?" Plenty of cis people are clocky, that's a very common pushback against TERF bullshit; that they're applying such a narrow standard of gender presentation that even cis people get caught up in it. Makeup exists. Prosthetics exist. Good actors who can make you believe they're fucking trans exist.

Yeah! Just look at the fantastic job Demi Bennett does playing Rhea Ripley!

'transandro dudes are stupid cause they say androphobia is bad but they're too scared to go up to the buffest gym dude and ask for his testosterone supply' are you stupid on purpose. it's not because he's a man it's because he's cis and a lot of cis people are SO down to beat up anyone they suspect might be a trans person. and a pre t trans dude asking for testosterone when the gym guy perceives said trans dude as a woman is DEFINITELY gonna get clocked and then be at risk of getting injured. can we please bring back thinking with our brains

transmasc and transfem TRFs are both so desperate to see themselves as having places in society identical to cis men and cis women and it's not going to fucking work out any time soon

Now personally I adore all the aesthetic posts and they give me a ton of material for my technology tag sooo thank you 4 reblogging so many dope gifs ^^

Thank you!

Maybe one day a week where the only messages people are allowed to send are fawning/simping/lusting after you idk lmao

that IS half my inbox already lol

weird thing but as a kid i was labeled tomboy so often i would consider my gender as a kid to BE tomboy. but when i decided to start being just a boy (trans boy) instead everyone acted like it was something out of left field and that there was "no proof" that i was trans (keep in mind this is like 2014-ish. i am still 99.9% sure i was the first ever person to come out as not cis at my school). like... what the hell do you mean "no proof"?? you literally spent my childhood calling me a tomboy and, after my sister started walking and talking, pointing out how much of a girly girl i WASNT compared to her.

the idea of cis people wanting "proof" is so weird

i like ur aesthetic posts tho, they make me happy also why tf r they complaining about aesthetic posts on tumblr of all places lol

literallyyyyy

Now personally I adore all the aesthetic posts and they give me a ton of material for my technology tag sooo thank you 4 reblogging so many dope gifs ^^

You're welcome!

#transandro phobia #trans radical feminism #exor sexism #discourse

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moirasdolly · 7 months ago

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˚ ⋆ﾟ୨୧ Digitally Yours ୨୧ ˚ ⋆ﾟMoira x Fem Reader

Synopsis: Your 1 year anniversary is fast approaching and what better way to celebrate it than going back to the place that started it all.

Contains: NSFW, implied plus size reader, age gap, face sitting, vaginal fingering, etc,… moira is a bit freaky (in a good way)

Listening to ♪ ིྀ: Stay Ready (What a Life) - Jhené Aiko, Kendrick Lamar

Previous chapter: 6

Notes: Last chapter of this fic and i’m feeling happy yet sad TT. This is the first fic I’ve actually committed to and finished!! I had a ton of fun with this fic and I hope everyone enjoyed it as much as I did. I might write an epilogue for life while they live together c; You’ll just have to look out for that hehe, please enjoy 🩷

❤︎ Chapter 7: Domestic

After the initial week Moira spent with you, you found that her visits to your home were more frequent. She was there multiple times a week, sometimes even everyday, not that you were complaining. She couldn’t bear to be away from you for too long or else she’d start to miss you too much. Everything from your cute mannerisms, the way you rambled on and jumped from topic to topic, to how you paid attention to her and hung on to her every word. She loved and adored you so much she was thinking of popping the question–not the big one… yet, but to move in together. The time in which you had started dating began to fly by and soon enough, it was almost a year since you had been dating.

Today was one of the elusive days where she wasn’t cuddled up with you, unfortunately she had a long day at the lab and ended up heading straight home afterwards. She was not completely deprived of seeing you though because as soon as she got home she heard the tell-tale chime of the ringtone she had picked out specifically for when you called. It rang throughout her home and she set her possessions down before answering. “Mo ghrá, how did you know I was craving your divine presence?” She murmured, exhaustion clear in her face. You giggled softly and her heart fluttered, “Oh you know… a little birdy told me you might wanna talk tonight.” You supply after a beat of silence. She shook her head softly, finally sitting down in her luscious armchair in her living room.

“Who’s this little birdy? Do tell, darling.” She teases, her slight accent peaking through. “You caught me! There was no birdy, I just wanted to talk to you.” You give up almost instantly, you knew from her texts that she was having a rough work day, so you put your mind to work to think of something that might relieve her stress. “I have a surprise.” You look at her, narrowing your eyes slightly as your lips curled into a devious smile. Now that Moira looked closer, your hair and makeup were done up, and if she wasn’t making things up, it reminded her of how you used to look when you would cam. “Well now you’ve got my attention…” She trailed off, leaving room for you to reveal your surprise.

Pink and perfectly manicured nails crept up to the zipper of your hoodie and you began pulling it down painfully slow. You peaked up at the older woman through your thick lashes and bit back a smile as she struggled to stay silent. Her eyes flickered from your fingers, to your chest, to your face in a frenzy as you teased her. You decided to get to the point and fully unzip your sweater, revealing the most angelic lingerie set Moira had ever seen you in. To put it simply, you took her breath away. You were adorned in a white lacy balconette bra completed with a dainty bow in the center that cascaded down your soft tummy. Where the bow ended, your skimpy little panties started. White ruffles hugged and squeezed at your hips, accentuating your curves deliciously. A garter belt was secured around your waist and Moira couldn’t help but let her eyes wander down to where the little clips of the garter belt held up sheer thigh high stockings. Her mouth almost watered at how your plump thighs slightly spilled over the top of your stockings.

You could tell you hit the jackpot with this set because the other woman was genuinely dumbfounded. You pouted slightly to tease her when she didn’t compliment you with words, and she snapped out of her stupor. “Pardon me doll, it's just that I didn’t want to be vulgar with my first thoughts when you revealed yourself to me.” Her words made you blush of course, but you cleared your throat to cover the fact before speaking, “Well what do you think now?” She pushed her hair out of her face with her dexterous fingers, but a strand still made its way back to her face and you were about to combust. Your girlfriend was the most attractive person on the planet. You almost missed her words because you were too busy ogling her. “What do I think? I think you look like an angel.” She began, “I wish I could be there to admire you in person, but don’t worry, next time I’m in your presence I’ll show you just how beautiful I think you are.” Your heart beat wildly, and you didn’t think it was possible to feel butterflies like this after dating for almost a year, but the way your partner spoke to you made you feel like you were falling in love all over again.

“Just show me now then.” You say simply, scooting back slightly so she could have a better view of your full body. Your eyes widened briefly as a thought popped into your head. This almost felt like an old stream, so you muttered a username you never thought you would again. “Doctorsorders, please help me feel good.” You say with a slight tilt of your head as you part your thighs slightly. Moira chuckled softly as her head fell back in disbelief. “Oh how I never thought I’d hear that again. You little minx, you know exactly what you’re doing.” She teased gently. She played along though exactly how you wanted her to, you had her wrapped around your finger and she enjoyed every moment of it.

After your little escapade on the phone with Moira the both of you were tired out and just missed each other, but you settled on sleeping on FaceTime with one another. After showering and getting ready for bed, the two of you joined each other once more to snuggle into your respective beds. You would have preferred if she was there with you, but you couldn’t blame her for not wanting to make the commute to your home after a long day. You had gotten cozy in an oversized t-shirt and your comfiest panties before slipping under the covers with Moira on the tiny screen in front of you.

“My love, did you like the show I put on for you? I hope I could help you relax after work.” Sincerity dripped from your saccharine tone. She nods simply, “Of course, I enjoyed watching you come undone under my guidance as well.” You thrust your face into your pillow and whine softly. The pillow muffled your embarrassment, thank God. “You weren’t so composed either Miss ‘Just like that, oh your so divine!’” You mocked her words from earlier as she pleasured herself to the sight of you. She cleared her throat in an attempt to save herself, but you were already snickering at her. “I suppose I’ll never give you what you want again. No more kisses, cuddles… my fingers curling into you. None of that.” She feigns seriousness. “Okay, okay, okay… I won’t tease you anymore, even though you probably love it.” You surrender to her easily. “I do love it, little dove, just not as much as I love teasing you back.” Your eyes roll on their own and you can’t help it. Moira really was a tease.

Sleepy conversation flows between you easily, as always, and the topic of your anniversary comes up. “Mo grhá our anniversary is tomorrow, what do you say I come over?” She suggests. You nod your head enthusiastically at the idea, your head was already running wild with ways to surprise Moira other than the gift you had already gotten for her. The dainty silver band you had bought would serve as a promise ring for her, and of course you got one to match. You were already giddy and nearly bouncing off the walls with excitement to give it to her, but before you could say anything she spoke up again, “I don’t want you to do anything baby. Please let me do the surprising and planning this time.” You groan dramatically, but comply… partially. “Okay, but I already have something for you, so that doesn’t count. Starting now I’ll let you do all the work.” You wink at her and she laughs softly, “That’s more like it, dove. Now we better sleep before it’s too late. I want you to be well rested for tomorrow.” Her words were gentle, but firm in a way that left no room for arguments, but you agreed anyway. You were already beginning to feel tired from earlier, so sleep came naturally to you. In no time you were lulled to sleep by the sight of Moira and her soft breathing through the phone.

The next morning you woke up to soft knocking on your door and a blank screen. You frowned at the sight and groaned out of frustration of being woken up so early. You reasoned that Moira must have accidentally ended the call, but didn’t want to disturb your sleep by calling again. When the knocks persisted, you sighed and slid off of your bed to retrieve a pair of shorts from your drawers so you wouldn’t accidentally flash whoever was at your door. Once you opened the door, all of the irritable feelings you had dissipated as you saw your love standing on the other side of the door. “Baby!” You cooed as you flung your arms around her neck and brought her into a tight hug. “Why didn’t you just use your keys?” Confusion washes over your face as you recall the spare keys she had.

In a way that was uncharacteristic for Moira she smiled sheepishly before looking to the side, “I wanted to see you so badly, I left with everything but the keys, my apologies, love.” You shook your head with a giggle, “It’s okay. Anytime I see you I’m happy, even if it is 7 in the morning.” The taller woman scoops you up into her arms and your legs wrapped around her waist easily as she carries you back into your home and onto the couch. The two of you plop down and you situate yourself onto her lap before nuzzling into her neck. Fatigue washed over you again, since you were woken up a bit earlier than you would have liked to be, even if it was by your beloved. “Dear, let me carry you to your bed, there are a few things I need to retrieve from the car.” You make a noise adjacent to a whine, but it was muffled by her neck. “I know darling, it’ll only be a minute though, then I’ll join you in bed.”

Reluctantly you agree and she settled you back under the covers before bringing in the ice chest she had packed for your outting later in the day. Moments later you felt her body slot against your own and you instantly melted into her. Your back pressed against her chest and she wrapped her strong arms around you and held you impossibly close to her. “I’ll wake you in a few hours, dove.” She whispered before kissing the back of your neck. You barely registered what she said, but hummed in agreement anyway before letting yourself fall back asleep.

A little over 2 hours later you were awoken by the woman behind you running her hands on your sides and whispering a soft, “Wake up, darling.” Your eyes flutter open and this time you feel well rested, Moira seemed to have that effect on you. “Did you sleep too?” You questioned her as you turned around to face her properly. Your legs wrapped around her waist easily and you clung to her. “Just for a moment, I guess I was looking forward to today too much to sleep.” She confessed, and planted a sweet kiss on your forehead. Your nose scrunched up in faux disgust as you teased her for being sappy.

“I’m sure you’ll be equally sappy when you find out what the plans are for today.” She teases back. The two of you lay together for a few more moments before finally dragging yourselves out of bed to eat breakfast. Moira had made acai bowls for the special occasion and you couldn’t be more happy. Your sweet tooth was satisfied for the time being and you rose to collect both of your bowls to wash before she stopped you and grabbed them herself. She tutted quietly before shooing you off to get ready. She had told you to wear something you would be cool in. You opted for the light blue gingham romper that you had recently bought. You tied the strings that made up the straps into bows on your shoulder and adjusted the ribbons that sat at your thigh. The romper was completed with delicate ruffles along your thighs and you decided that you looked like an absolute doll.

You swiftly moved on to makeup and hair with your signature look, and after over an hour of getting ready you peaked your head out of your bedroom door to see Moira situated on your couch watching whatever show she had chosen to occupy herself while she waited for you. A smile played on your lips as you met her eyes and she beckoned you to come to her. “Oh you sweet-thing. You look lovely. Is this new?” Her thin fingers tugged on the hem of your romper and you nodded in confirmation. “I bought it last week, but I haven’t gotten the chance to wear it, and today is the perfect day so…” You trail off slightly. “Very well then, if you’ll excuse me I’m going to freshen up as well.” You hit her arm slightly and giggled, “You had all this time to get ready, and you wait until I’m done?” There was no malice in your voice of course, you were just jesting at her.

“Forgive me, mo grhá, I’ll be just a moment.” She slid an arm around your waist and kissed the top of your head before disappearing into your bedroom. True to her word, she was out in no time in a flowy button up and a pair of fitted slacks. Your eyes wandered to how the shirt hung off of her shoulders and how her exposed collarbones looked so kissable. You just can’t resist and you shuffle over to her before planting sticky, lip gloss coated kisses all over her collarbones and neck.

“Now you can’t wipe those off!” A devious little smile made its way to your face. “Luckily where we’re going, I won’t have to hide the evidence of your affection…” She explains quickly before heading to the kitchen to retrieve the ice chest she had brought in while you were asleep. Your face lit up at the sight and you assumed the two of you would be going on a picnic similar to the one of your first meeting. She started ushering you to the door, but just before leaving you remembered the promise rings. You shooed her away to the car, reassuring her that you had forgotten something before rummaging through your drawer to find them. You slipped them into your purse and rushed out the door to meet her in the car.

Your suspicions of going on a picnic were confirmed once you started on the path to the beautiful park with the huge clearing, just like the first time. She let you be in charge of music for the car ride, so the vehicle was filled with soft melodic tunes that felt like they would set the tone for the rest of the date. You rested your chin on your hand as the park came to the view before sneaking a look at the woman beside you. She parked under the shade and as you began unbuckling your seatbelt and reaching for the door handle, she gently grabbed your hand and shook her head. “Let me set everything up first, I’ll come get you once everything is done.” She looked utterly serious and you didn’t question it, but instead hummed in agreement. You wondered what she had in store for you.

After taking the ice chest all the way to the clearing she came back to the car to retrieve the rest of the items she had brought for the anniversary. “I trust there was no snooping, right darling?” She questioned as she searched your eyes for an answer. “Never, Moira. Whatever surprise you have for me must be big if you’re being so quiet about it.” Your sweet voice was all she needed for reassurance.

As she carried everything back to the blanket she had set up, she felt her heart beating at a faster pace than she realized before. She was about to ask you to move in with you, hell she had already bought the house. She was sure you would say yes, but what if you thought she was trying to rush things, or what if you were sad you wouldn’t be living in your home anymore. There were so many things she felt would go wrong, but she shoved those worries to the back of her mind and slipped the key ring she had bought for you into her pocket, along with a jewelry box containing a necklace. She exhaled in a loud huff before deciding she had spent enough time worrying and she wanted to finally go get you.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see your lover making her way to you and you couldn’t contain your excitement anymore. You burst out of the car, making sure to grab your purse with the rings in it. She extended her hand to you, and you grabbed it with no hesitation as she guided you to the picnic spot. A gasp escaped your pretty, glossy lips as you saw what she had laid out for you. There was a huge picnic blanket with a large ice chest in the corner filled to the brim with your favorite foods. There were containers of sushi that had extra ice packed around it to ensure it stayed fresh, an assortment of watermelon, peaches, strawberries, and other fresh fruit, and an abundance of home made sweets that you were sure Moira spent hours on. In the center laid a large bouquet of pink and white flowers that had a similar feel to the one you had given to her. Glasses for whatever drink she had brought sat next to the ice chest and sprawled out over the blanket were soft and luscious pillows for comfort.

You looked at her like she held the stars in the sky and you knew that there was absolutely nobody else for you in this world except for her. She guided you to sit down and you obliged easily, “What a gentlewoman…” You giggle softly as you take a seat, she followed suit right after. “Anything for my love.” She mused before handing you the bouquet for you to inspect. Pink peonies for luck and prosperity, baby’s breath for purity and love, pink orchids for femininity and grace, and daisies for new beginnings. She explained every little meaning to you, and you almost teared up at how thoughtful the older woman was. “You know it's funny,” she started, “I went to the same florist as you. She saw you on my phone since you’re my screen saver and her face lit up.” She recalled fondly. “She helped me pick out flowers that reminded me of you, of us. She even told me about how you were gushing over me to her.” Your cheeks heated up almost instantly, you had said some quite incriminating things. “Well everything I said I still feel to this day.” You confess, daring to look her in the eyes.

“I do have one question though… Why did you pick out a flower that represents new beginnings?” She noticed how you pursed your lips cutely before snapping out of it to answer. She dug into her pocket and pulled out a key ring adorned with a dainty ribbon. Attached to the ring was a singular key. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, wanting an explanation. “Would you do the honor of moving in with me, my sweet love?” Your eyes light up and you nod your head vigorously. “Of course!” You nearly jump into her arms and the two of you tumble onto the soft blanket. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me.” You mumbled into her chest before planting a soft kiss on her lips.

“Well your dream has come true I suppose.” She chuckled softly. “I found a home for us that is close to your current home, I knew you wouldn’t want to move too far away from work.” Your eyes widened in surprise as she detailed the location, you had wondered how long it would take her to get to her lab now. It was as if she could see the worry flash across your soft features, so she reassured you that it was a happy medium between workplaces. Maybe she was being a bit generous when she said happy medium though because it was much closer to the cafe than her lab. Details, details.

You both chatted about your new home as you munched on all of the food Moira had packed. She really knew you because everything she had described to you sounded like the perfect home. You’d think about selling your home and how long it would take to move later, but for now you enjoyed the present and the giddy feeling that settled in your stomach. “What about rent? Should we go 50/50?” It was a valid question in any universe where you weren’t dating the older woman, but she seemed to have everything covered. “I own the home, little dove. I don’t want you to worry your pretty little head about anything.” She cooes as you pout at her. “Don’t give me that look.” She placed her hand on your chin and pulled you in for another kiss. You would be lying if you weren’t in absolute awe at the way Moira had everything planned for the two of you. You were overjoyed at the prospect of living with her, and you couldn’t wait to actually spend everyday with her. It wouldn’t be too different from how things were right now, but now you would be coming home to her and vice versa.

After a large portion of food had been cleared by the two of your hungry stomachs, you finally reached into your bag to retrieve the gift you had gotten her. “Happy anniversary…” You trailed off as you handed her the red velvet box. You urged her to open it and when she did, a look akin to a lovesick puppy struck her face. She held up the thin band of silver and admired it in its full beauty. “It’s a promise ring. I have a matching one, see?” You giggled as you held out your hand to show her. You reached to grab the ring from her and slid it onto her finger with ease before bringing her hand up to place a soft kiss on it. “Now we match.”

Moira found herself speechless at the thoughtfulness of your gift and she scooped you up into what seemed to be the millionth hug of the day. “Thank you, my heart. You Have no clue how much I cherish this. One day I’ll buy you the real thing though.” She buried her head into the crook of your neck and just breathed in your sweet, floral scent as the two of you laid together in the warm sun. Your heart felt extremely full and you thought to yourself that there was no better way to spend the anniversary. She had been so caught up with your gift though, that she had forgotten all about the necklace she picked out for you. She presented you with a dainty silver chain that was complete with a little dove charm. That’s exactly what she called you all the time. “Put it on for me?” She couldn’t say no to your saccharine voice and reached for the jewelry to secure it around your neck. She was impossibly close as she reached around your neck to clasp it shut. Once she was done she sat back and adjusted the pendant to be in the center.

You marveled at how gentle she was today, not that she wasn’t all the time, but there was a newfound tenderness in all of her actions that you found endearing. “Thank you, Moira. Seriously, you have made this the best day of my life.” You poured your heart to her and she carried the same feelings in her own heart. “There will be many days like this to come for as long as we’re together. I won’t let you go, my little dove.”

#digitally yours ˖ ࣪ 𝜗𝜚 #dulcet fics ♡#moira x fem reader #moira o’deorain x reader #moira x reader #moira o'deorain #moira #overwatch fanfiction

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pianocat939 · 1 year ago

Note

Hey, you don’t gotta answer this but if you every have the time, I really really like your mean girls au!! So far I’ve seen like tough y/n and stuff, but what about a super sensitive MC? :0 If possible, maybeeee all the boys? But if I had to narrow it down then Leo and Donnie? And if I had to narrow it down even more, just Donnie :p if you get the time to look this over, you don’t like have to answer this, obviously. I won’t be offended or anything so don’t feel pressured to answer this ask!!

(I actually haven't done Mikey, primarily because I'm still thinking of an exact idea for him. Right now, I'm situating with fine arts kid who's also like "the perfect" student. Like personality wise.)

Tw: guilt-tripping, manipulation, controlling relationship, a few mentions of murder and violence

Mean Girl Donnie:

If you thought you could survive as a sensitive person with this bitch, then you're wrong.

He'll notice when you're sad or hurt by his sharp statements (insults really). Unfortunately, he'll use it to his advantage.

After a while of just straight insults, he'll slowly start to be a bit better. He'll express less harshness and a bit more sugar. Just to surprise you, and start craving for that small amount of sweets he gives.

Once he knows you're slowly starting to get addicted, he'll start to give a few compliments. Maybe a head pat once in a while. All in favour of his master plan.

He'll then start to insult your friends and family, saying that if they truly cared, they wouldn't leave you with him. (In a way he's insulting both himself and others but in a way that leaves you feeling a bit bad for him). But of course, you're too attached to him.

You can't leave him. You can't escape the slight bits of affection he gives you. Not to mention the ultimate perks of having him so close. (He could murder someone and get away with it if he really wanted to).

He loves that you're so attached to him, unable to leave him despite his toxic mean-sweet behaviour. He enjoys it, knowing he has complete power. Soon enough he'll be feeding you both his terrors and sweets.

"You look so disgusting in those clothes. Here, put this over, it'll make you less repulsive. You'll look much more appealing."

Bimbo Leo:

See, unlike Donnie's mathematical equation: +1-1, it's more like +0.5-0.5. (MC is the right variable) In other words, the severity of what happens is a lot better and more tolerable.

The fact that you're a sensitive person makes him so excited. Maybe, unlike everybody else, you won't be annoyed with his antics. He starts flooding you with affection. Clinging to you for every second of his time.

Until you're just so overwhelmed you actually have to tell him to pause for a bit.

Will he pause? Of course not.

He'll keep giving more and more. To the point, you have to decide whether or not you tell him it's too much, or continue to deal with it.

If you stay, he won't raise the level of his clinging. Maybe even lower it. (He assumes you're willing to stay, so he's less paranoid). But if you pick the other option, he's going to start guilt-tripping like crazy.

Whimpering and whining why he can't just feed you his love. All he wants is to be the most wonderful person of your life!

It's really only up to MC whether or not he'll snap out of his bimbo act.

"MC, I literally just love you so much! I don't mean any harm, maybe you're just not used to it. I'm not like...him."

It's Donnie.

Jock Raph:

Honestly, not a lot changes from his initial post I made. He just tends to be more willing to kill/commit violence.

Maybe a bit more likely to baby them because of their fragile emotional awareness.

"MC, those people really aren't nice to you. You should just stay away from them from now on."

I admit, I don't have much ideas for him. I'm not sure why, but I just don't.

(I'm gonna be honest, I rarely have ideas for Raph considering he's my least favourite out of them all. And also perhaps I don't understand his personality or relate with him AT ALL. Which makes it all the more difficult for me)

- Celina

#rottmnt #yandere #yandere x reader #rottmnt x reader #yandere rottmnt #tmnt x reader #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #yandere tmnt #tmnt #blurbs

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beyondthebackup · 1 year ago

Text

On Curiosity, Killing & Cats

[illustration: @nnenteyn-new // telegram // bootsy]

Rating: E | Words: 4,502 | Pairing: BxL

@dnkinktober Prompt: Humiliation/Degradation (Day 7)

Summary:

A is dead, and Roger insists that allowing B to succeed as L is dangerous. The first generation of Wammy’s project is at an impasse and L is - was - curious.

Read on AO3 or under the cut. I hope you enjoy!

Author's Note:

This is technically my first attempt at fanfiction not written specifically for this rp blog. It's also my first time writing L and sharing any smut I've written publicly although I'll be honest, this ended up more plot-heavy than I anticipated and it's relatively tame compared to my private stuff.

All that said I want to thank @ourflagmeansdeathnote @dykelawlight @lightyaoigami @neallo and @brothercrush for being fantastic writers/artists themselves and inspiring me to put myself out there! (And all the other great creators in the dn fandom, I will look desperate and uncool if I tag all of you)

This is an uncomfortably long stretch of silence, even for L.

He observes Backup through the cracks of his sugar-dusted fingers as he busies himself with an assortment of pastries on a serving cart, inspecting and then devouring each with the practiced efficiency of an assembly line.

Honestly, L expected him to say something first.

Backup's file describes him as 'extroverted, energetic and talkative', but he hasn't spoken. He is maintaining eye contact. A little too well, actually. Paired with that flat expression, it's all a bit disconcerting...though L is not entirely unaware that others might think similarly of him.

L gulps down a mouthful of frosting and pushes the cart toward B, who is seated on the other side of Roger’s desk.

"Would you like some?" he asks, mid-chew.

Backup does not break eye contact, but he does finally speak.

"Why are you here?"

His tone is light and mildly curious, as if L were an acquaintance he bumped into at the grocery store.

L could ask himself that very same question. He did not have to be here, he did not particularly want to be here, yet he had indeed chosen to be here.

"These are extenuating circumstances."

B tilts his head. "You mean now that A's dead?"

Straight to the point.

Still, Backup’s flippant attitude does little to remedy the atmosphere.

A, the first child taken into Wammy’s House, has committed suicide at the tender age of 18.

L is not much older than them, and yet…

"Now that you are next in line to take over as L in the event of my death," he clarified.

"There is some debate about whether or not that should remain the case."

Backup is quick to open his mouth, although he doesn't seem all that surprised - before he can start, L lifts a manila folder pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

"I read your file."

B averts his eyes with a pout. "Oh, that…"

"…Well, it makes sense you'd want a well-behaved successor. The whole point of being a detective is to lock up people that break the rules, after all."

L shifts in his seat and wedges his thumb into the corner of his mouth.

It's a ridiculous oversimplification - Backup can't be serious, so is he…mocking him?

"…Is that the point?"

"I dunno, I'm not a detective. You tell me. Is it acceptable for L to break the rules?"

Yes, B is definitely mocking him…but with enough subtext to pique L's interest.

"That depends. Wammy's House is Watari's project, not mine. Breaking the rules here does not necessarily mean anything to me."

"What?" Backup scoffs, more animated all of a sudden. "Shouldn't you take being L a little more seriously? Isn't it your choice who succeeds you in the end?"

"Watari has requested that I make the final decision, yes."

B's eyes narrow.

"No one here can beat me. They would've done it by now."

"That does appear to be the case."

"Then what? Aren't you going to tell me that I can't be L if I don't behave?"

So he was expecting this.

The truth is, L still isn't sure why he's here. He hasn't made a decision, and interacting with B so far has only left him all the more unsure.

What is he going to tell Backup?

Pondering this, L reaches for a small dish of ice cream. He is deep enough in thought that he doesn't notice B finally breaking eye contact to follow the movement of his hands.

He does not notice B's patience fraying, the thinness of his veneer as he watches him nurse the cold off his teaspoon.

"…Do you still expect me to prove myself to you?" he asks quietly.

Now, there is no mistaking it. Resentment hangs from every word.

"Do you want me to grovel?"

L pulls the spoon from his mouth and meets Backup's eyes again, brow furrowed and stern.

"No. This isn't about me."

That's when L sees B smile for the very time.

If you could call it that - his upper lip twitching suddenly with disbelief, parting to reveal the beginning of something toothy and joyless.

"Bullshit,"

"A's dead because of you, you know."

A is dead because of you.

L swatted away that very same thought the day he got the news. He dismissed it because he knew it was illogical, and here Backup is actually saying it to his face. It's absurd, and L allows that to show on his face.

B is undeterred, however. He drags his chair closer to Roger's desk, plants his elbows on the surface and leans in close, eyes widening to take in the moment with full clarity.

"You don't believe me? Do you think people kill themselves for no reason? He's dead because he wasted his entire life trying to become you and failed. Do you think it's fun here, L? Is it even fun being you?"

L likes to think he is not so easily provoked, but if this is Backup's goal, he has succeeded. L did not come here to evaluate the efficacy or ethics of Watari's program, especially not at the behest of someone who is so obviously trying to get a rise out of him.

"What is it that you want from me, Backup?"

"What do I want?"

"You aren't trying to convince me that you should be my successor. If that isn't what you want, should we end the conversation?"

L is curt, but resists the temptation to be overly passive-aggressive. He understands the power dynamic - there is no need to stoop to Backup's level here. This is enough.

Dishes clatter, pastries hit the floor and in seconds Backup has vaulted over the desk and is upon him, seizing his throat with both hands.

Perhaps even more startling than the abruptness of B's attack is its sheer ferocity. L's gasp is cut off as B presses both thumbs into his neck, just above the windpipe. His grip tightens steadily and L feels a rush of genuine fear.

This is not a mere moment of blind rage because a moment has passed, and the look on B’s face is in fact indiscernible to L. Those dark eyes fixate on his and betray nothing but resolve.

He is in danger.

L grabs at his forearms, clawing into them to little effect. He cannot speak, and even if he could-

He asked Roger not to interfere with their meeting.

L is here out of curiosity.

Curiosity and perhaps, deep down, a small (and obviously misguided) sense of responsibility for this place and the orphans raised in it.

Honestly, he prefers not to think about it much.

But A is dead, and Roger insists that allowing B to succeed as L is dangerous.

The first generation of Wammy’s project is at an impasse and L is - was - curious.

It's not that he never considered the possibility of an outburst. That would be understandable, warranted even. L asked Roger not to interfere with this meeting because if B had something to say to him, he wanted to hear it.

But this is different.

L struggles and B draws closer, forcing him to shrink back, sink deeper into Roger's leather armchair. It wounds his ego to be caught so off guard, but L can't even remember the last time he was touched by someone other than Watari.

He spends much of his time isolated from others, and even when he isn't, no one would dare violate his personal space like this.

It isn't just the violence that is alien, the danger, but his touch, and L finds himself paralyzed by it all. Frozen by the fact that B is smiling again, and this time, he seems genuinely happy.

"This is what I want, L," Backup sighs. "That look on your face."

Dread settles into the pit in L's chest and he steels himself to kick at B as hard as he can. It takes more than a few attempts to knock him off balance, but he manages, and with some distance between them, L scrambles out of the armchair.

B is fast, L is flexible, B is strong, L is stubborn.

As B grabs L by the hem of his shirt, L turns to take another swing at him, and in the fray the two of them are sent tumbling to the ground.

So begins the undignified floor wrestling match between two young geniuses.

...Unfortunately, it appears B is the better of the two at wrestling.

L manages to knock the breath out of B more than once, but it makes little difference. He finds himself pinned underneath Backup's oppressive weight while he snickers like a child at play.

"Shhh...relax. Relax! Just stay there! Stay there. I realized something important. I won't hurt you. Calm down. Listen."

"What, Backup?" L snaps as he drops his hands, exasperated.

B grins impishly at him.

"You're a disappointment!"

L stares at Backup in utter disbelief.

"Me?"

"Now that I've met you, I know my entire life has been a waste of time!"

L's stomach drops as he assures himself these are only provocations. Why else would Backup be so gratingly cheerful about it?

"I wasted it trying to become you. A died trying to become you.

But you're just a loser! Another worthless human being! You're weak, you're pathetic, and worst of all, you're boring!

World's Greatest Detective. You!? Are you serious!? Look at you!!"

L stiffens and braces himself to shove B off. He doesn't need to listen to this, Backup is obviously the kind of person that takes pleasure in spite, this is fun for him, this is a waste of time-

"A was better than you, you know," he goes on, voice dripping with contempt. "I actually respected him. I bet everyone was hoping you would die so he could replace you. Too bad."

Backup lowers himself down onto his elbows and cups his hands around L’s face, relishing in it when he feels him flinch.

How many people have seen L like this?

His sneer has vanished. L does not move - he is fighting panic, fighting his racing heart and the goosebumps dotting his skin, he is fighting the confusion that follows the intimacy of skin-on-skin poisoned by the malice on B's tongue.

B's heartbeat is equally frantic, but it doesn't show on his face. L is not nearly as skilled as B in this regard and finds himself all too conscious of his own labored breathing.

"You were my entire life," he says. “I spent all this time waiting for you, thinking of you...only for you to be like this. A died because he wasn't good enough. And now you're here to tell me I’m not good enough."

"No."

"Do you think your life is worth more than all of our lives combined?"

"I never said that."

"You said this isn't about you, but that's not true, is it?

My life has always been about you. A's, too. You're the reason why this place exists. Why I exist.

I exist because you're not good enough, either.

No matter how many cases you solve, you're no different from me. You're a tool. An object. You exist to be used.

That's why you're what...20? And Watari already has an entire orphanage of kids ready to take your place when you die! He doesn't believe in you either."

"That's enough," L cannot take it anymore, he cannot listen to another second of this, he cannot spend another moment on this floor pinned under him, being touched by him, his skin is crawling and he cannot breathe and the air is hot and his stomach is tight and he feels his heartbeat in all the wrong places.

L wills himself to snap out of it, he needs to get B off of him before-

Abruptly, B sits up and directly on top of

"-!? Do you have an erection!?"

B exclaims as if he doesn't know the meaning of the word and all the color drains from L's face.

Do not dignify that with a response. It is involuntary and nothing to be ashamed of.

"Is this turning you on?"

"No."

B bursts into a fit of cruel laughter and L only tenses underneath him, awash with humiliation. L does not often care what others think of him, but he has never felt like this before, so utterly degraded by someone who should respect him, and he's laughing at him, at his- why does he have an erection?

"No?" B echoes. "What's this?" Sliding easily down his thighs, L jerks back from his hand when he feels it rest on the crotch of his jeans.

"I knew it! You're a pervert!"

"And what does that make you, exactly?" L hits back.

"This isn't about me," B draws out L's own line. "Why are you so easy, anyway...? Oh! I get it - I bet no one's ever touched you, besides that disgusting old man. Why would they?"

It's amazing how that talkativeness of his rears its ugly head in a situation like this.

"You're a virgin, aren't you? You're probably touch starved...even though you're older than me and rich and everything. Aww, it must be so lonely being L!"

“Get off of me," L hisses.

"You sure that's what you want?"

With a sharp exhale through his nose, L squeezes his eyes shut for a moment...for just a single moment of peace. He needs to think, he needs to move, and he needs to never admit that B is right and he isn't sure if that's what he wants, because he is excited by this.

He doesn't have the time to intellectualize it. He can break his rule and call for Roger. He can shove B off of him. He can stop this, he could've avoided this entirely had he smothered that curiosity, taken the file at its word and never met one of his so-called successors.

L can feel B's gaze burning through him, but at least he's not talking in that perpetually amused voice and at least he can't see that sadistic excuse for a smile. There is something wrong with B and there is something wrong with him for feeling like this is the first time in a long time someone has managed to surprise or challenge him.

He doesn't have the time to intellectualize it and therefore doesn't have time to convince himself that this is wrong.

It is wrong that he feels relief when B does not wait for him to answer and dips his slender fingers past the waistband of his jeans. Again, he only rests his hand against L's growing arousal. He does not provide any friction, does not move.

It takes all of L's willpower to fight an upward twitch of his hips, the weight and warmth of Backup's touch promising pleasure and yet refusing to follow through.

"Oh, L..." B hums. "You are just a man, after all."

The World's Greatest detective pinned underneath him, shirt inched up past his navel in the fray, so clearly out of his depth. And it was easy. So fucking easy.

"Is this the one thing Watari won't do for you?"

B delights in watching the pink flush crawl up the back of L's neck to his cheekbones, that jaw set so tight he just knows he is gritting his teeth. He can't even look at him, turning his head to the side as if B would ever let him off that easy.

"Look at me," B says sweetly.

L does not.

"I said, look at me," B grabs L by the chin and forces him face forward. He suddenly takes L's clothed erection into a light grip, wringing a quiet gasp out of him. The detective's eyes snap open to glare at Backup with equal parts resentment and desperation, filling B with a deep and twisted satisfaction. He knows that look all too well.

"Do you hate me, L?" he asks, eyes softening with something resembling infatuation. It makes L all the more confused and uncomfortable and frustrated that B will not just get this over with.

Over the course of this conversation, L has learned at least one thing about Backup. Responding in the affirmative is likely what he wants.

This whole thing must have been to get a rise out of him, and L is playing right into his hands.

Because he's...enjoying it.

"I have no reason to hate you, Backup. I have no reason to feel any particular way about you at all,"

His assumption is proved correct when B immediately digs his nails into L's jaw.

"Your dick disagrees."

"It's involuntary."

B's grip on L's erection slacks again. "You don't want me to touch you?"

L's glare darkens.

"Say it."

L curls his toes, wondering if it would be enough to clamp his thighs around B's hand or if his aim all this time really was for L to discard his dignity. Resisting B is an uncomfortable, laborious, painful experience...but would sacrificing his dignity, his better judgement for a single moment of carnal satisfaction be worse?

I want you to touch me.

L tries the sentence out in his mind and it makes him wince. He's imagining B's grin splitting wide again, that sharp laugh, and the way his cock will throb when the humiliation sinks in. He imagines Backup following through, apparently capable of giving him the release that he has never been interested in seeking out until now.

This has awakened something in him. The wrongness of it all is what makes L want it, and he isn't sure if anything will ever feel quite this wrong again.

What's that saying? Curiosity killed the cat?

L will never see this cat again. Not ever.

Does it really matter if he makes a mistake now?

L sucks in air through his teeth and finally, recklessly relents.

"I want you to touch me," he mumbles with just enough conviction as to not feel entirely pathetic, to allow himself some illusion that he is in fact in control.

"...You fucking pervert," B giggles. "I didn't actually think you'd say it. You're shameless, that's so gross..."

Even so, it seems to do the trick. B massages him slowly through his underwear, free hand finally releasing his jaw to take a fistful of L's hair and yank his head back.

"I'm barely 18, what is wrong with you?"

"That's not-!"

"Shut up," B palms him with more intention. He can feel L twitching around his fingers as he pulls the fabric around his length, pleasures him with the barrier that exists between him and what he actually wants.

"Hhn-" With all pretext shattered, L slowly lets go. This friction is not nearly enough or he wouldn't be squirming like this, chewing down on his tongue wishing Backup would just get on with it already.

"Aren't there cameras in here? What will the old man think of you?"

"Just get on with it..." L sighs with marked frustration.

"I was trying to give you plausible deniability by only going this far. You'll have to say please if you want me to actually touch the hard-on you got from being degraded by me."

"You are ridiculous," L seethes.

Plausible deniability. Right.

"I assure you I'm quite serious. Having your successor get you off is going to be your fault."

"My fault? I'm not the one who started this."

"You're going to blame me? Even when our power dynamic is like this? You're not a good person at all, L. You can't take responsibility for anything."

Another ragged sigh interrupts L's retort as B gropes his cock, offering him delicious pressure and friction but refusing to give up on the tease...until he feels a wet spot growing, at least.

B wets his lip with his tongue. "I don't think I even have to go any farther. Treating you like the garbage you are and just a little bit of attention is all it takes."

"Please," L forces out.

"Please what?"

"More. Please just...touch me more."

"It's not enough?"

"No."

"Okay, I'll do what you say. I'm obsessed with you after all."

True to his word, Backup releases L and pulls his jeans and underwear down past his hips, exposing L's straining, leaking cock for the both of them to see.

"You just said that I was worthless."

"You are. I hate you more than anything, and nothing would make me happier than watching you suffer. That's the kind of person that's going to get you off for the first time, L. And I'm doing it not because I want you back, but because I know you'll never forget it..."

B finally wraps his hand around L's erection and of course he is lying about not wanting it, he wants this desperately, he is coming undone inside in ways that L could never imagine, because he does not know him.

He has nothing to do with him.

Hatred, lust and love are not all that different after all.

L tries to quiet his mind, to avoid internalizing anything B is saying. For whatever reason being spoken to like this and treated like this is the most arousing thing L has ever personally experienced, and he should treat this as something being done in service of him.

That's what it really is. It has to be.

At the end of the day, no matter what B said, he would still be B and L would still be L.

B leans in close, still stroking L all too slowly, too lightly, and yet it is enough to force unsightly little mewls from L's lips. He shudders when he feels Backup's lips pressed against the shell of his ear.

"I want you to remember this feeling, L," he whispers.

L swallows hard and bucks up to meet B's movements.

"I want you to remember how desperate and helpless and low you feel right now, and I want you to remember it was me that made you feel this way."

The friction is maddening. So simple and yet so intense. L feels his inner voice quieting, fading, he feels dangerously human, dangerously like simple flesh, like B said, just a man...not the world's greatest anything.

"No one is ever going to care about you as much as I do. I thought of you constantly for ten years. Yet now that I know you...I despise you."

L is panting as B fists his cock, speaking with such vitriol as to be certain L could not fool himself into thinking it was an act.

"I despise you so much. You make me sick. And you're getting off on that? Off on my misery..."

"N-no-"

"You are. I know because I got off on A's misery, and I'm getting off on yours, too. I know exactly the kind of person you are.

Depraved. Disgusting. Fucked in the head. You hide behind your title and the law so no one ever finds out you're just a pathetic fucking cock-sucking degenerate that would be better off dead!"

L groans deeply and hates himself for it. He doesn't understand himself, he doesn't understand this, why every word is pulsing through L's hips like lightning, why it feels so good to be reduced to this when most of his life, his efforts only earned him universal praise.

"What would Watari think if he saw you right now, L? He'd be so disappointed in you. Why would you do something like this? It's inappropriate, it's dangerous, you were warned, right? Don't you know better?"

"Stop...stop saying his name..."

"Don't you know better, L? Say it."

"I-I know better..."

"So why are you doing this?"

"I...don't know-!" L cries out in frustration, moans rolling out of him in choked out intervals. The pleasure is piercing him, becoming unbearable, mutating into something frightening, something about to burst.

"Tell me why!" B demands, releasing L altogether. At this stage, he can't bear it, and the levy breaks.

"Because I'm a pervert! I'm disgusting and I'm pathetic and I want you to touch me, you're right about me, B! You're right..." L whines. "Please don't stop, I can't take it anymore..."

This wipes the smile off B's face which makes it all the more painful...he is staring at L incredulously and for the first time L becomes aware that B is also panting, his skin is just as hot.

He presses his forehead against L's and stares at him in silence for a few beats. It drives a vicious chill up his spine and he knows, deep deep down,

even if he never saw B again,

he's made a terrible mistake.

"I'll never let you forget about me, L."

And so he reaches back between L's thighs for the final time with no intention of holding back.

L jerks under him, thighs trembling as B swirls his thumb over his sensitive head.

"Keep your eyes open, slut."

Even as his mouth hangs open, moaning freely to keep B from becoming restless enough to return to his teasing, it's not enough.

Backup is so focused on him, so unwilling to look away that L is forced to endure the intimacy of sustained eye contact while he is this vulnerable. He feels stripped bare, like Backup is staring right through him.

No one should see him so unguarded, especially never someone like him, yet he obeys, he obeys and lets B see everything, his drawn-out groans as his orgasm creeps up on him, the drool beading at the corner of his mouth, the hopeless lust in his tired eyes.

He feels humiliated. Degraded. Disgusting. But most of all, he feels alive.

All thoughts cease as L arches his back and white hot satisfaction washes over his entire body. He reaches for B's forearms, gripping onto him as he cums hard all over his hand, an undignified mess left behind on the both of them, proof that it happened.

Undeniable.

B lets out a shaky breath and watches L sink into the floor with wide eyes. The memory and the image burning into his psyche where it would never leave him. Where it strengthened his result to become a murderer

and destroy L.

L would never forget this feeling, but neither would B.

With A dead, his new purpose in life is clear.

He will be the one to make L grovel.

B is still lost in thought when L reluctantly opens his eyes to face the aftermath. Luckily for him, B is not looking back at him but at his own hand.

L is confused until Backup sticks his cum-covered fingers into his mouth and begins to suck them clean-

No. L has to get out of here right now before this gets any worse.

Fine, Backup. You win.

I'll break my rule.

"Roger!!!" L shouts at the top of his lungs.

#dnkinktober #beyondlaw #bxl #lxb #bbll #beyond birthday #fanfic #my writing #smut #ao3 #death note #l lawliet

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