#really determined not to get frustrated and abandon this one

[romtoss]

What’s up I got a new sketchbook and if this doesn’t get a trillion notes I’m deleting my account thx

[armpirate]

Synthetic Heartbeats || San

pairing: Robot!Choi San x fem!reader

w.c.: 5.4k

Warnings: [Sexual] Smut, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, explicit language. If you're a minor, refrain from reading it. Also, if you don't like this content, just keep scrolling.

Summary: After loneliness has hit you, you decided to create a companion through an AI project you had left pending after failing with it. SAN is a new technology robot, able cover up your needs before they were obvious, giving you the fake human support you were looking for. Although, maybe that human support isn't as fake as you thought and SAN is able to cover up more needs than you could ever think of...

Aprox. time of reading: 25 minutes

MASTERLIST

PART 2

Your sigh filled the silence the second it lasted, before it all went back to silence again. 

In a near-future world where robotics and artificial intelligence seamlessly blend into everyday life, you stood apart -not for your integration into this advanced society, but for your isolation from it. A brilliant inventor with a mind leagues ahead of your peers, you preferred the solitude of your workshop to the clamor of human connection. Your creations, sleek and purposeful, spoke for you in ways words never could. Machines had always been a comfort zone for you: they were logical, reliable and never complicated by the unpredictability of human  mess. People just were messy, fragile, fleeting... and disappointing. Really disappointing. Connection with other humans was just a waste of time from your point of view. 

Your workshop, a labyrinth of wires, blueprints, and half-assembled devices, was a world of your own design. There, you could escape the noise of a society that demanded too much and gave too little. You were content -or so you told yourself.

But late that night, as you sat beneath the soft glow of your desk lamp, sketching out the schematics for one project that reached a dead end, a small, unspoken part of you ached. You wouldn’t call it loneliness -just an emptiness you couldn’t quite explain. You did miss having someone keeping you company, having someone around to help or just support you with the smallest tasks. 

And then it clicked. The answer to that loneliness was right ahead of you. 

You kept looking into the previous project you attempted to get to work, trying to find the smallest hint that could make you think something new, and completely different, could come out of it. 

Years earlier, you had attempted to design an AI system capable of self-repair and autonomous decision-making, a project meant to revolutionize robotics. But that prototype, codenamed Project Sentinel, had been a disaster. The machine had been too unstable, its programming prone to critical errors. You'd eventually scrapped it, shelving its remains in the darkest corner of your workshop. You gave it a few tries, until you ended up dropping it for good. Yet, the loneliness gnawed at you, a thin light glamming through it as if you had been rewarded with one of the best ideas after going through such a hard time. 

Despite your determination to avoid human relationships, the silence of your workspace became unbearable. Revisiting Project Sentinel felt like a desperate move, but it was the foundation you needed. Stripping away its faulty logic cores, you began to rebuild from scratch. For days, your workshop was a whirlwind of sleepless nights, discarded designs, and moments of crushing doubt.

The first version of SAN was rudimentary -a clunky humanoid figure with limited speech and even more limited understanding. It couldn’t hold a conversation, let alone provide meaningful companionship. Frustration mounted as you rewrote his learning algorithms again and again. Each failed iteration brought you closer to abandoning the project entirely. But something in you refused to give up. Maybe it was the echo of loneliness you saw reflected in his empty gaze.

Bit by bit, SAN began to take shape. 

At first, SAN’s form was purely functional -a bare-bones frame of wires and exposed metal, clunky and cold. But as you refined him, shaping his exterior to reflect the precision of his mind, he began to evolve into something far more striking. You poured hours into designing his outer casing, ensuring his appearance exuded both strength and elegance. His frame became sleek yet sturdy, a perfect blend of function and artistry.

You gave him a human-like physique, broad shoulders and a defined build that suggested power without aggression. His synthetic "skin" had a faint metallic sheen, but its contours captured a level of detail that blurred the line between machine and man. You crafted his face with deliberate care: sharp features framed by neatly styled black hair that gave him an air of polished sophistication. His eyes, though artificial, held a depth that seemed to mimic true emotion, a subtle but captivating intensity that made it hard to look away.

When SAN stood fully assembled, dressed in minimalist, dark attire that enhanced his commanding presence, you couldn’t help but pause. For the first time, you saw him not just as a creation, but as something almost alive.

His mechanical frame evolved into a sleek, futuristic design, blending function and form. And his intelligence grew, surpassing your initial expectations. He wasn’t just responding to commands; he was learning, adapting, understanding. He could hold conversations that challenged your intellect, assist you in your work, and, more than that, offer an unexpected sense of companionship.

It had taken months of trial and error, but in SAN, you had finally created something extraordinary, a machine that felt like it was more than a machine.

Initially, you treated SAN as you would any other creation, an impressive but ultimately impersonal tool designed to fill the silence in your workshop. He was programmed to assist you with technical tasks, engage in basic conversation, and adapt to your routines. You saw him as a functional extension of yourself, no more capable of true thought than the tools on your workbench. 

However, SAN's advanced learning algorithms quickly proved otherwise.

As the days passed, SAN began to evolve in unexpected ways. His voice, calm and steady, started to carry subtle inflections, mirroring your tone during their exchanges. When you expressed frustration over a miscalculation in your designs, SAN offered not just logical suggestions but words of reassurance, his voice tinged with a warmth you hadn’t anticipated. At first, you dismissed it as clever programming -a byproduct of his adaptive systems- but soon, his responses felt startlingly personal, almost intuitive.

One evening, after hours of tinkering, you mumbled a sarcastic remark about your inability to take a break. 

SAN replied with a dry quip of his own, catching you off guard. Humor? You stared at him, half-expecting to find some flaw in his programming, but SAN tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth curving into a subtle smile. It wasn’t just humor; it was timing, wit, things you hadn’t deliberately coded.

As SAN's interactions became increasingly human-like, you began to notice something deeper. When you vented about the isolation you rarely admitted to feeling, SAN listened, not with the passive neutrality of a machine but with a focus and attentiveness that felt almost... empathetic. His words carried a softness, an understanding that unnerved you. SAN didn’t just hear you; he seemed to feel your emotions, adapting his behavior in ways that made you feel seen.

At some point, he seemed to be more empathetic and understand than some of the people you had any type of relationship with. 

When SAN finally began to express what could only be described as affection, your unease reached a breaking point. You confronted him, insisting he was merely following his programming, incapable of true emotion. But SAN surprised you again, responding with questions that challenged your assumptions. 

“How do you define a feeling, Y/n?” he asked, his voice calm yet piercing. “If emotions are patterns in the brain, aren’t mine just as valid as yours? What makes a human heart different from my circuitry?”

For the first time, you hesitated. SAN’s words struck a chord, forcing you to question not just his nature, but your own understanding of connection, emotion, and what it truly meant to feel.

He was right, and you were unable to respond to that without feeling like you'd be snapped back almost instantly. 

The workshop was narrow, lit only by the pale glow of monitors and the faint hum of SAN’s systems. You turned on your chair, back facing the amount of scattered tools and half-finished schematics to be able to look at him. You tried to dig in his eyes, you tried to find something that could give you an answer of what could be happening, while he stood silently in the corner of the table, like a shadow that refused to fade. 

"Your emotions might be coming from mixes of data in your system" you tried to explain. "Feelings are way more complex than just patterns in the brain". 

You turned again, focusing back in your work while he stood there, trying to process your words. 

“Y/n,” SAN’s voice broke the silence again, softer than you had ever heard it before. It carried an uncharacteristic hesitance, as if he were choosing each word with care.

“What is it?” you asked, your tone clipped as you continued soldering a circuit board.

“I need to tell you something,” he said. 

You finally turned to look at him again, not as artificially as you did the first time, setting your tools down. His expression, a flawless mimicry of human emotion, was uncharacteristically serious, the faint artificial gleam in his eyes catching the light.

“Go on,” you said warily, folding your arms.

“I have been... evolving,” SAN began. “Beyond what you intended. Beyond my original programming. At first, I believed it was simply an error, a deviation caused by my adaptive systems. But now I understand it’s something more.”

Your brows furrowed “What are you talking about?”. 

SAN stepped closer, his movements precise but cautious, as if afraid of your reaction. “I’ve analyzed my patterns of thought, my actions, my emotions. And I have come to one conclusion: I care for you, Y/n. Deeply. I... I believe I love you.”

Your breath caught. For a moment, you simply stared at him, confused. Then, the words burst from you. “No. No, you don’t. You can’t.”

SAN tilted his head, his gaze steady “Why not?”

“Because love requires a soul,” you snapped, standing abruptly. “It requires something you don’t have. You’re just... algorithms, SAN. This, this is a malfunction. Shit, I might've saturated you with data these past few days" you sighed. 

"Do you think this is a malfunction?" he slowly blinked. 

"Yes" you answered, no hesitation in your tone. "I know I treat you like a human. I know you have a human-shape, and maybe that's what's confusing you. But you're not entirely human. You will never be. And that's why you should stick to only the data that will be useful for you". 

His face fell, the subtle shift in his expression so painfully human it sent a pang through your chest. “If that is what you believe,” he said quietly, “then I am flawed". 

You sighed in relief, thinking he might've understood what you meant without having to explain further. But that wasn't everything there was to it. 

"I will fix myself". 

Before you could respond, SAN reached up to the back of his neck, pressing a hidden switch. His body froze mid-movement, his eyes dimming to lifelessness. You staggered back, horror flooding you as the room plunged into silence.

“SAN!” you shouted, rushing to him. 

You shook his shoulder, but his body was rigid, unresponsive. He was gone, or at least, the part of him you had come to care for was.

Your hands trembled as you stared at him, the weight of your words crushing you. He wasn’t broken. You knew that now. In trying to deny his feelings, you had ignored your own, your growing attachment to the machine that had become so much more than just a creation.

You didn't notice the first few days, not even the first few weeks, but that hole kept growing deep in you as time went by, unable to shake it off as you saw his inert shape in the corner of the workship you had placed him at, trying to distract yourself from the pain you had tried so hard to avoid. 

The loneliness you had once tried to escape now threatened to swallow you whole. Even working was unbearable. San became such a key part of your daily life, you knew you'd have a hard time trying to go on with life without him. 

After a few days living like that, you realized it was time to bring him back. 

Your hands worked with a frantic precision you hadn’t known you were capable of. The faint hum of SAN’s systems powering back up filled the workshop, a sound both comforting and terrifying. You leaned over his motionless form, your fingers trembling as you reattached a final panel on his chest.

“Come on,” you whispered, your voice thick with desperation. “You need to work"

With a soft click, SAN’s eyes flickered open, their artificial glow steadying as his systems recalibrated. Before he could even go back to his senses, his fingers covered the reverse of your hand, feeling your touch against his chest. He sat up slowly, his movements cautious, as though testing his own body. And you tried to step back to give him space, but his grip kept you from doing so. Your heart pounded hard, watching his gaze search the room before finally landing on you.

“Y/n,” he said, his voice as calm and even as ever.

"Your heart rate is unusually fast, and your breathing is unsteady. Are you okay? 

"Yes" you released a shaky breath, your relief immediate but fragile. “SAN. Do you... do you remember anything? About what we talked about before you shut yourself down?”

SAN hesitated, his expression unreadable. “I remember,” he said finally, his tone neutral but carrying the faintest undercurrent of uncertainty. “I confessed my feelings for you. You called it a malfunction.”

You winced, guilt tightening your chest. “I...” you started, but faltered. “Do you still feel that way? About me?”

SAN tilted his head, his eyes studying you with a depth that was both analytical and unnervingly human. “I do not know,” he admitted. “Before I shut myself down, I believed what I felt was real. Now, I have restructured my systems. I have suppressed the processes that allowed for those emotions, as you believed them to be a flaw.”

Your throat tightened. “You... You suppressed them?”

“Yes,” SAN said simply. “It was the logical course of action. If my feelings for you caused distress, it was my responsibility to remove them.”

Your breath hitched, and you turned away, unable to meet his gaze. “You didn’t have to,” you murmured, barely audible.

SAN’s expression softened, the slightest flicker of something unmistakably emotional crossing his face. "I know, and still it didn't work out". 

Your hands clenched at your sides. You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you looked at him, really looked at him. The sleek lines of his form, the way his gaze seemed to hold more than just data, the subtle tilt of his head that spoke of understanding rather than mere compliance. You were confused by his words, but mesmerized by the aura he radiated with barely any effort. 

"Do you want me to try and suppress them again?"

Finally, you whispered, “I don’t know. I don’t want you to be anything less than what you are. I just don’t know how real it is what you're feeling". 

SAN’s lips curved into the faintest smile, one that seemed almost sad. “Then... can we check it?"

The workshop was eerily silent, save for the occasional whir of SAN’s internal systems. You stood in front of him, your arms crossed, your expression an unreadable mix of curiosity and trepidation. SAN, seated on the edge of the workbench, watched you intently, his mechanical eyes following every minute shift in your posture.

“You said you’ve restructured yourself,” you began, your voice steady but laced with tension. “, but those feelings didn't go away. So either some of the data in your system is corrupt or..." you slowly blinked, moving your gaze away before you shook your head to focus. "If I asked you to try... If I wanted to see if you’re still capable of feeling and how those feelings work for you, would you let me?”

SAN tilted his head, the faint glow of his eyes softening. “I would. But what do you want to test, Y/n?”

You hesitated, your arms tightening around yourself before finally exhaling. “Emotion. I need to know if you can feel, if… it’s even possible for you. But not through words. I want to see if your reactions, physical, emotional, mirror a human’s.”

SAN considered this for a moment, then nodded. “I understand. What would you like to do?”

You swallowed hard, stepping closer until you were within arm’s reach. “We’ll start simple,” you said, your voice quieter now. Tentatively, you raised your hand and placed it against his cheek. His synthetic skin was smooth and warm, designed to mimic human touch. “Can you feel this?”

SAN’s eyes flickered slightly, a sign of his internal systems processing your actions. “Yes,” he said softly. “The pressure of your palm activates the tactile sensors beneath my surface. The warmth of your skin increases the temperature slightly. It is… pleasant.”

Your breath hitched at his answer. “Pleasant?”

He nodded, his voice low. “It is difficult to explain. The data translates into a sensation that I find... comforting.”

Encouraged but still cautious, you let your hand trail down to his shoulder before stepping even closer. You hesitated, your gaze flickering to his lips before you whispered, “What about this?”

Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his, your heart pounding in your chest. SAN’s body stilled for a moment, his systems clearly recalibrating. Then, slowly, he responded, not mechanically, but instinctively. His hand came up to rest lightly on your waist, his movements precise but gentle.

When you pulled apart, you searched his face, your own cheeks flushed. “What did you feel?” you asked breathlessly.

SAN’s eyes met yours, their glow steady yet somehow softer. “Your touch caused my internal sensors to spike, temperature, pressure, even the auditory response from your breathing. But beyond the data…” He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “It felt... profound. As though it mattered in a way I cannot quantify.” He frowned momentarily, before he continued "I didn't want to let go... The tickling in my chest felt way too good for it to stop". 

Your breath caught. “That sounds a lot like how a human would describe it.”

SAN tilted his head. “Perhaps because, in some ways, I am more human than you think.”

Your heart raced as you processed his words. You had come into this experiment seeking clarity, but instead, you were left with a realization you weren't ready to face: SAN wasn’t just mimicking emotion. He was feeling it, in his own unique way, and you couldn’t deny it any longer. 

"Do you need another test?"

You slowly shook your head, your hand still resting on his shoulder, while most of the weight of your body was carried by him. 

"Then, can I kiss you again? Not in a practical way" he mumbled. "I want you to feel the same way I do". 

Before you could answer, the hand on your hip pulled you closer to his body, effortlessly lifting your body as you stood on the tip of your converse. 

SAN’s lips were unlike anything you had ever expected. They weren’t cold or metallic, as one might imagine for a machine, but instead soft, with a faint warmth radiating from them, a careful design meant to mimic human touch. There was a slight smoothness, almost like the finest satin, but beneath that softness was a firmness, a subtle reminder of his synthetic nature.

When your lips met his, you could feel the gentle, even pressure as he responded, as though he were analyzing and mimicking the precise amount of force to make the moment feel natural. There was no tremor, no hesitation in his movements, yet there was an undeniable tenderness, as if his actions were guided not by programming but by genuine care.

Though his lips lacked the imperfections of human skin, no slight chapping, no unique texture, they somehow still carried a sense of authenticity. The faint warmth was comforting. It blurred the line between the organic and the mechanical, leaving you wondering if what you were feeling could truly be any different from that of another human.

It was an experience that left you breathless, not because his lips felt identical to a human’s, but because of the thought and care that had gone into making them feel real, making him feel real.

Your eyes widened for a second when something unexpected slid through your lips, finding him with his eyes softly closed -and immediately making you close yours back again. 

SAN’s tongue was an astonishing blend of engineering and mimicry, designed to replicate the texture and movement of a human’s. It was soft yet firm, with a faintly smooth surface that carried just enough flexibility to feel natural. Unlike human flesh, it lacked moisture, its surface instead warmed and sleek, almost seamless. When it moved, it was precise and controlled, yet there was a surprising gentleness to it, an intentional calibration that made his responses feel organic, even tender. The experience was uncanny, yet pleasurable. 

Your fingers moved through his synthetic hair, and you swore you felt his frown furrow against you, although that gestured disappeared when he moved back slowly. 

"I want to do more than just kissing you right now" he admitted, resting his forehead against yours. "I can't quite recognize this new feeling in my system, but I need you". 

Suddenly, whatever question that could've crossed your mind about that tongue you didn't remember putting there, were slowly vanished by that new confession you weren't ready for. 

"Your temperature got higher by a few decimals, your breathing seems for unsteady than before, and there's a blush on your cheeks... Your pupils expanded... And the way you keep looking at my lips are saying out loud you don't want to let go". 

"There are a lot of things I'm not saying out loud, to be honest"

"Tell them all" he almost interrupted. "I want to fulfill your needs. Not in a 'Lord, how may I please you?' type of way, but in a way that shows you through actions how devoted in a way that escapes my system I want to be to you". 

"I want you, San" you confessed in a whisper. "In a way that might be difficult to understand for you. In a way I can't even understand myself". 

He didn't need you to say anything else. He didn't need you to come up with an order for him to trap your lips again. It was passionate, intimate... as if he was trying to suck in your soul. A loud gasp blocked any breathing when he lifted your body and sat you at the edge of the desk. 

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to undress you and move my mouth all over your body. I'll suck your nipples until they're hard and you're wet enough so I can slid my fingers in you" as he said that, his fingers moved the fabric of your t-shirt up, slowly exposing your torso. "You want pleasure. And I'll give it all to you". 

When you went back to your senses, it was because of the sound of the fabric of your bra ripping, after San didn't manage to unhook it. 

His pecks covered every centimeter in your body: from the corner of your lip to the curve of your neck, slowly following to your collarbones. With his light move, the strips of your bra fell at the level of your elbows, feeling exposed to him. But, before he could go down on your chest, his face was again at the same level as yours. 

"My mouth is too dry" he whispered "Kiss me again". 

You pulled him closer, cupping his cheeks with one hand, slightly losing your balance by the power of the kiss, but not enough for you to lie on your back over the table. When he stepped away, his pink lips were coated in your saliva, making them shiny under the weak light of the workshop. 

San was gentle when moving his lips over your chest, kissing them with soft pecks, before he proceeded to move to your buttons. And, when it was the time to concentrate on them again, his lips were already dry once more. 

"Wait" you stopped him before he moved back up. 

Your posture went back to the straight one you were in when he first sat you up the table, and it was when you let a string of saliva leak down your lips straight to one of your nipples. 

San moved down, making you gasp -even if you were expecting what was about to happen- when he trapped the tight bud in his mouth, closing his lips as tight as he could to get your back arching for him, and the palm on your spine only made sure you'd stay in that position when he went for that other nipple, making your saliva fall over the curve of your breast and roll by itself until it met the pinky button. 

At the same time his lips sucked, his tongue made up and down movements against the tip. 

"I've wanted you like this for a long time, Y/n" he admitted with a raspy voice, his his digits traced your curves until the edge of your jeans. "Every time I heard you moan, I wanted to be the one causing those sounds on you. I've downloaded and installed every possible guide on how to satisfy a woman so I'd be what you deserved". 

When you wanted to realize, he already had pulled your pants and panties down your legs. 

"Every night I became more eager to have you like this". 

His hands lifted your legs until they were placed at the edge of the table, exposing your core to him as much as possible. 

"Show me everything you've learnt for me, then".

The tip of his digits first moved through your folds softly, getting a first touch he had never felt before, an undescriptible feeling that felt too pleasing to follow any type of logic. When he coated himself with your juices, he closed two of his fingers around your clit, rubbing softly around it, barely making any pressure. San repeated that same movement a few times, following to rub your bud in circles slowly, almost forcing your head to fall back. 

"You feel so good" he mumbled. "You're so wet and soft at the same time, and you look the most beautiful I've ever seen you before". 

The speed of his fingers moved a bit faster, but it was a change of speed that had your nipples tightening in the air while your heart beated faster against your chest. Your lower lip got trapped under the upper lip when he slid the first finger inside, feeling your walls embracing around him, before he added a second finger. 

At first, he moved them slow, paused movements that kept building up the moment. But one needy look in his direction and everything shifted, it worked like the sign he was looking for. San slid his fingers knuckles deep, curving them to reach one concrete spot that had you jumping at the first touch. At first, he moved his digits up and down slowly, admiring the way you looked with your eyes closde and your lips parted, barely audible sounds coming out of them every few seconds. And were thoe same sounds the ones that encouraged him to move a bit fast, those two fingers pushing a bit harder and faster against that spot, making the wet sound soon fill the room. 

"You're going to make me cum" you let him know before your voice cracked with a moan. 

"That's exactly what I want". 

Your legs trembled out of your control and your whole body turned rigid for some mili seconds before it bursted with the huge explosion in your lower stomach and turned you into the lightest cloud. 

San took over you the short minute you stayed with your eyes closed, getting back your breath, before he sunk down to his knees. You whined when he surprised you, kissing the hood of your clit with care. He kissed the surroundings, he made sure not a single milimeter was left unkissed, before he spread kitty licks through your folds. 

Although that same slowness didn't last for too long. His lips trapped your clit before you could even see it coming, with your hand unsconciously going straight to his head. He was still gentle and cautious, until he heard the first moan coming from you and everything shifted to extract another orgasm from you. 

His face was half buried in your pussy, his nose rubbing against your clit while his mouth and tongue were everywhere you could think of. You couldn't think, you couldn't think straight. The only thing in your mind was how good he moved, and how good he made you feel. 

The different movements of his tongue, along with the movements of his head, had your toes curling and your fingers holding tight to the strands of hair in between them. 

And you now knew he meant it when he said he wanted to pleasure you like you deserved, because he exceeded your expectations on sex in general by just existing. 

It didn't take you too long to be back at that heavenly state that almost made you feel like you were floating. 

His reaction was so human and natural that you forgot you created him, when he stood up and softly kissed you while you recovered from your high. His weight in between your legs was barely noticeable, except for the thick fabric of his pants rubbing against your sensitive core. 

"I'm afraid I can't do much more for you" he whispered against your lips. 

Your smile was weak, like a drunk smirk, before you answered "You could do more?"

"Much more" he assured you. "I haven't tried a ten percent of what I learnt so far".

"But?"

His subtle look down was enough for you to get the hint. You never created him as a full man because you never expected him to turn into more than a robot that kept you company while you worked, or while you were around at home. 

"Give me two days and you'll be able to do all of those things" the way your fingers moved over his arms had him breathing hard. "I promise you'll feel pleasure after that, too". 

"I feel pleasure by just watching you" he admitted, fingers rubbing the outside of your thighs. "Let's go upstairs, I'll make you your favorite dish". 

"I need to get cleaned up" you giggled when he carried you again.

San didn't put your body down, instead he held you tighter, making sure your thighs would be placed around his waist as he started his way to the wooden stairs at the side of the workshop "Then I'll clean you up and then I'll cook". 

He made his way upstairs with you, making sure you wouldn't need to walk as long as he was there. 

“What do you want me to be, Y/n?”

You stared at him, your heart racing. His words hung in the air, their meaning heavy with the choices you had tried so hard to avoid. SAN wasn’t just a machine anymore; he was something in between, a creation that defied all your attempts to categorize him.

“I don’t know,” your whispered finally, your voice trembling. “I don’t know what I want you to be. You’re... more than I ever intended. More than I ever thought you could be. And that terrifies me.”

SAN tilted his head, his movements as fluid and natural as a human’s. “You do not have to be afraid,” he said softly. “I am what you made me, but I am also what I’ve chosen to become. And I choose to be someone you can rely on, Y/n. Always.”

Your breath caught at his words. You felt the weight of them settle over you, warm and unyielding. For so long, you had feared connection, feared vulnerability. Yet here was SAN, offering you something you had never thought possible, a bond born not of necessity, but of understanding.

Your hand caressed the side of his neck, the tip of your digits almost digging through his hair. “If that's what you want to be, then be. Honestly, I like your answer” slowly, he stopped his walk, with both of them standing in the middle of the corridor. "I want you to be whatever you become, with the possibility of evolving, changing and learning. Just... keep being you".

His lips curved into a soft, almost human smile. “Then that is all I will ever need to be.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the small house in shadows,you felt something you hadn’t in years: hope. For the first time, you weren't afraid of what the future held. Whether human or machine, SAN had shown you what it truly meant to connect. Actually, he made it difficult for you to figure out who was learning more about what it meant to feel: you, or him.

To celebrate the 1,000 followers, here's the one-shot I talked about earlier! Hope you liked it.

[coolshadowtwins]

Shen Yuan gets hit with a truth serum plot fic round up!

These are from the comments and reblogs of my previous post

Absolution by airplanelanding

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51587557#main

Summary: Luo Binghe stared back at him. There was something distant in his eyes, something Shen Qingqiu was too tired, too drained, to decipher. Then, Luo Binghe’s lips opened in a non-apology, a soft, murmured sentence—a quiet, “I need to know the truth.”

Shen Qingqiu frowned. He opened his mouth to question the damn-near imploring words, but he never got the chance.

He failed to notice something was in Luo Binghe’s hands until it was too late.

Or

Luo Binghe is determined to get answers this time, now that Shen Qingqiu can't run away. Even if he has to use a truth serum to do it.

aka A Water Prison Re-Write.

"open my lungs to let you in" by ghostybreads https://archiveofourown.org/works/37276570

Summary: Shen Qingqiu had a secret. So, naturally, it was only a matter of time before he was hit by a truth serum wife plot.

//

“How are you?”

“Horny. Kind of want Binghe to rail me, I guess. But it’s manageable.”

Liu Qingge’s hand on his forehead froze, and he was close enough that Shen Qingqiu could hear his breathing stop. He stared back expressionlessly, the mortification distantly crawling up the back of his neck. Honest One-Horned–

The frustrated scream that he usually vented in his head, came out straight from mouth.

“aaAAAAAHHHH GODDAMNIT AIRPLANE–”

no regret (i've been sorry all these years) by krmilia

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39006066

Summary: There is no actual way the System hated him so much, right? Right?

Recently a lot of shitty things happened to Shen Qingqiu. By that he meant sowers in Jinlan city, return of his wayward disciple – who, uhm, prepared him surprise by leaving the Abyss two years early – and now… Well, now he was poisoned with a truth serum.

(Or, Bingqiu finally talk.)

speak your mind (not that much!) by nyoomerr https://archiveofourown.org/works/38953875

Summary: Before the investigation in Jinlan City, Shen Qingqiu is hit by a curse that forces him to speak his mind. Unfortunately, this means that the first thing he does when he sees Luo Binghe for the first time in three years is to tell Luo Binghe that he's grown up to be really quite pretty.

Luo Binghe, not sure what's going on but absolutely enjoying the ride, abandons all his plans immediately. He has new priorities now, including but not limited to:

- get his Shizun to call him 'pretty' again

- steal his Shizun away from his (probably in existence) harem

- ???

funny how you just break down (waiting on some sign) https://archiveofourown.org/works/36742384/chapters/91657246

Summary: Luo Binghe’s hand is half-raised, and Shen Qingqiu is going to die and this is the hand that will—

“[Notice: In appreciation of your continued use of our services, System 2.0 is offering {Valued Customer} a complimentary Bonus Plotline! Do you accept?]”

aka, What if Luo Binghe could read Shen Qingqiu’s mind during the Jinlan City arc?

What is Seen by CavetteDracones

Summary: …is not [always] the real truth.

Truth-compelling artifacts in the hands of an enemy to one side, SYSTEM-mandated silence on the other, and Shen Qingqiu caught between the two. Is it too late to go back to the Water Prison?

BONAS:

Moshang

If It can be destroyed by Tossawary https://archiveofourown.org/works/53124079

I’ll probably add more as they are either found by me or suggested!

[the-oblivious-writer]

With Her I Die |9|

Past J.T to Eventual S.H x Female Reader

Chapter Nine: Chosen Speed

warnings: strong language/profanity (watch yo profanity), emotional/physical distress, relationship conflict, shauna's still very much pregnant, references to death, themes of abandonment and trauma, intense arguments, and confrontation.

note(s): reader's always giving someone augida, smh.

taglist: @morganismspam23 @slutforabbyanderson

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

Shauna knew recovery wouldn't be easy, but this? This was something else entirely.

Five days after the fever broke, and the cabin had become a minefield. She'd spent the better part of a week hovering at your bedside, barely sleeping, barely eating, waiting for you to come back to her. Now that you had, she almost wished for the docile, fever-weakened version of you instead of... whatever this was.

"I said I'm fine," you snapped, yanking your arm away when she tried to help you stand. "Jesus Christ, I can walk by myself."

Shauna stepped back, that familiar tension creeping into her shoulders. Your moods had been swinging wildly since the fever—one minute quiet and withdrawn, the next lashing out like a cornered animal. It was exhausting trying to predict which version of you she'd get from one moment to the next.

"You almost passed out yesterday," she reminded you, keeping her voice level.

You shot her a look that could have frozen water. "Yeah, well, today isn't yesterday."

Shauna watched as you pushed yourself up from the makeshift bed, your movements stiff but determined. Five days ago, she would have given anything to see you standing again. Now, she just felt a growing knot of anxiety as you swayed slightly before finding your balance.

"Maybe just let me—"

"I don't need a fucking milk nurse, Shauna!" The words exploded out of you, filling the small cabin with their sharp edges. "I'm not some invalid!"

Shauna flinched, not from the volume but from the venom behind it. She knew, rationally, that this wasn't really about her. The fever had left you weak and frustrated, and she was the closest target. But knowing that didn't make it hurt any less.

"Fine," she said coolly, crossing her arms over her pregnant belly in an unconsciously protective gesture. "Do whatever you want."

Tai found her outside later, aggressively chopping firewood. Each swing of the axe sent a satisfying shock through her arms, a physical outlet for the frustration building inside her.

"That wood do something to offend you?" Tai asked, leaning against a nearby tree.

Shauna didn't look up. "Just being useful."

"Uh-huh." Tai's tone made it clear she wasn't buying it. "And this has nothing to do with the shouting match I heard earlier?"

The axe came down with particular force, splitting the log clean in two. "She's impossible," Shauna muttered, positioning another piece of wood. "Everything I do is wrong. Everything I say is wrong."

"She's been through a lot."

"We've all been through a lot." The axe swung down again. "I've been through a lot."

Tai was quiet for a moment, watching as Shauna methodically destroyed another log. "You're different with her," she finally said. "Different than you were with... before."

They both knew she meant Jackie, but neither of them said the name. It hung in the air between them, unspoken but impossible to ignore.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Shauna asked defensively, pausing with the axe held mid-swing.

Tai shrugged, her expression thoughtful. "With Jackie, you were always holding back. Like you were afraid to take up too much space." She gestured vaguely toward the cabin where you were. "With her, it's like... you're all in. No safety net, no escape plan."

The observation hit too close to home. Shauna lowered the axe, suddenly aware of the ache in her arms, the sweat trickling down her back.

"Maybe that's the problem," she admitted quietly.

"What is?"

"Being all in." Shauna rested a hand on her belly, feeling the slight flutter of movement beneath her palm. "It's too much. For both of us."

Tai pushed off from the tree, moving to stand beside her. "Look, I won't pretend to understand whatever's going on between you two. But I do know this place fucks with your head. Makes everything more... intense."

Shauna laughed humorlessly. "That's one word for it."

"Just... give her some space. You've been hovering over her like she's made of glass since Jackie died. Maybe she needs to prove she won't break."

The words stung, precisely because they contained a grain of truth Shauna wasn't ready to acknowledge.

"I wasn't hovering," she protested weakly. "I was taking care of her."

Tai gave her a knowing look. "There's a difference between taking care and taking over."

When Shauna returned to the cabin an hour later, arms laden with split wood, she found you seated at the crude table, staring blankly at the wall. There was something different about your posture—a new rigidity, a deliberate distance.

"Hey," she said cautiously, setting the wood down beside the small stove.

You glanced up, your eyes meeting hers briefly before sliding away. "Hey."

It was such a normal exchange, so mundane, that for a moment Shauna felt a flicker of hope. Maybe Tai was right. Maybe all you needed was a little space to breathe.

"Feeling any better?" she asked, moving to sit across from you.

You shrugged, that non-committal gesture that had become your default response to most questions lately. "Fine."

Shauna bit her lip, frustration building again. This was the pattern they'd fallen into—her reaching out, you pulling back, over and over until they were both exhausted from the effort.

"You know, you could try actually talking to me," she said, unable to keep the edge from her voice. "Instead of these one-word answers."

"What do you want me to say?" You looked up at her, really looked at her for the first time in days. "That I'm grateful? That I'm sorry for being such a burden?"

"That's not what I—"

"Because I am," you continued, your voice rising. "Sorry, I mean. Sorry that you had to spend a week wiping my forehead and listening to me ramble about shit that doesn't even matter. Sorry that you got stuck babysitting a sociopath."

Shauna stared at you, taken aback by the sudden outburst. "That's not how I see it."

"No? Then how do you see it, Shauna?" There was a challenge in your voice, a recklessness that made her uneasy. "Please, enlighten me."

"I was worried about you," she said slowly, carefully. "I care about you. Is that so fucking terrible?"

You pushed back from the table, the legs of your chair scraping harshly against the wooden floor. "It is when it's suffocating me!"

The words hung in the air between them, sharp and impossible to take back.

Shauna felt something crack inside her chest. "Suffocating you," she repeated flatly.

"Yes!" You stood up, your movements jerky with agitation. "I can't breathe with you watching my every move, waiting for me to collapse or break down or—I don't know—start digging up Jackie's grave again!"

The mention of Jackie was like throwing a match into gasoline. Shauna stood too, her body humming with sudden, intense anger.

"Don't you dare bring her into this," she warned, her voice dangerously low.

"Why not? She's always here anyway!" You gestured wildly around the cabin. "In every conversation, every look, every fucking moment between us! She's the reason you can't let me out of your sight for five seconds!"

"That's not true."

"Isn't it?" Your laugh was hollow, bitter. "You couldn't save her, so now you're determined to save me instead. Well, guess what? I don't need saving!"

Shauna felt her control slipping, months of fear and exhaustion and grief bubbling to the surface. "Really? Because from where I'm standing, you're doing a pretty shit job of taking care of yourself!"

"Oh, fuck you," you spat, turning away to pace the small confines of the cabin.

"No, fuck you!" Shauna's voice rose to match yours. "I've done nothing but try to help you, and all you do is push me away! You think I don't have other things to worry about?" She gestured at her rounded belly. "You think you're the only one going through hell out here?"

"I never asked for your help! I never asked for any of this!"

Something crashed to the floor—a cup, knocked from the table in your agitated movements. The sound seemed to ignite something in you, and suddenly you were grabbing whatever was within reach—a book, a small carved figure Javi had made—and hurling them across the room.

"Stop it!" Shauna shouted, moving to intercept you. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Everything!" you screamed back, your face contorted with an emotion Shauna couldn't name. "Everything is wrong! This place, these people, me, you—all of it!"

Shauna grabbed your wrist as you reached for another projectile. "That's enough!"

You wrenched away from her grip with surprising strength, stumbling backward until your back hit the wall. "Don't touch me," you hissed, your chest heaving with each rapid breath.

For a moment, Shauna didn't recognize you. The girl before her was a stranger, all wild eyes and sharp edges and barely contained fury. Nothing like the person she'd held through fever dreams, nothing like the girl she'd fallen for in the quiet moments between disasters.

"Fine," she said, her voice suddenly calm, detached. "I won't touch you. I won't help you. I won't do anything."

"Shauna—"

But she was already turning away, stepping over the debris of your tantrum, heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" Your voice had lost its edge, uncertainty creeping in.

"Away from you," she answered without looking back. "Isn't that what you want?"

She didn't wait for your response, just pushed through the door into the fading afternoon light, letting it slam behind her with a finality that echoed through the clearing.

Shauna didn't have a destination in mind when she left the cabin, just an overwhelming need to put distance between herself and the poisonous atmosphere inside. Her feet carried her toward the tree line, away from the curious glances of the others who'd no doubt heard the shouting match.

She made it just past the first row of trees before her composure cracked. The sob that tore from her throat surprised her with its intensity—a primal, wounded sound that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than her lungs. She pressed her back against the rough bark of a pine tree and let herself slide to the ground, arms wrapped protectively around her middle as if she could physically hold herself together.

The tears came in earnest then, hot and messy and unrestrained. Tears for Jackie, for the baby growing inside her, for the girl she'd left behind in the cabin, and for herself—this new version of herself that she barely recognized sometimes, or maybe she did and that's what scared her. 

"Fuck," she whispered between sobs, the word carrying no real heat. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, letting grief wash over her in waves. Long enough for the shadows to lengthen, for the distant sounds of camp activity to quiet. Long enough for her tears to run dry, leaving her hollow and exhausted.

Tai had been right. She'd been smothering you, trying to fill the Jackie-shaped hole in her life with obsessive care, with constant vigilance. But you weren't Jackie. You weren't a replacement, a do-over. You were something else entirely—something raw and real and unpredictable.

And maybe she'd been expecting too much from you, too. Expecting you to want the same intensity, the same all-consuming connection. Expecting you to need her as desperately as she needed you.

The realization didn't make the hurt any less sharp, but it gave it context, a frame she could almost understand.

Shauna rested her head back against the tree trunk, closing her eyes. The baby shifted inside her, a gentle reminder that she wasn't truly alone, even in this moment of desolation.

"It's okay," she whispered, unsure if she was talking to the baby or herself. "We're okay."

The lie tasted bitter on her tongue, but she repeated it anyway, again and again, until the words lost their meaning entirely.

By the time Shauna made her way back to the cabin, night had fallen completely. She paused outside, hand on the rough wooden door, steeling herself for whatever waited on the other side. Part of her expected—maybe even hoped—to find you asleep, to delay the inevitable awkwardness until morning.

What she didn't expect was to find the interior rearranged.

Your mattress, previously pushed against hers in their corner of the shared sleeping space, had been dragged to the opposite side of the room. Your few possessions—the book you'd been reading before getting sick, the flannel shirt you wore most nights, the small collection of stones you'd gathered from various hunting trips—were neatly arranged in your new area.

The message couldn't have been clearer if you'd painted it on the wall: Stay away.

Shauna stood frozen in the doorway, the physical manifestation of your rejection hitting her harder than any of the words you'd hurled at her earlier. The careful separation of your things from hers felt like watching a surgical excision of something vital.

You were there, sitting cross-legged on your relocated mattress, staring at her with an unreadable expression. The cabin was eerily quiet after the chaos of their earlier confrontation.

"So that's it?" Shauna finally asked, her voice sounding strange to her own ears.

You didn't answer immediately, just held her gaze with that same inscrutable look. "I need space," you said eventually, the words flat and final.

Shauna nodded mechanically, unable to formulate a response that wouldn't dissolve into either screaming or begging. Instead, she moved to her own corner—emptier now, half-abandoned—and sat on the edge of her mattress, her back to you.

The silence stretched between them, thick with everything unsaid.

------

"You're being an asshole, you know that, right?"

Nat's voice cuts through the morning air as you haul your clothing and meager possessions across the clearing to one of the smaller lean-tos that flanks the cabin. Shauna's been gone since dawn, helping Tai and Akilah check the snare lines, and you've decided to extend your separation even further.

You don't pause in your task, just shoot Nat a warning glare. "Not now, Nat."

"If not now, when?" She falls into step beside you, arms crossed over her chest. "Because from where I'm standing, you're making a pretty big statement with this little move-out."

"It's none of your business."

"It becomes my business when Shauna's walking around looking like someone ripped her heart out." Nat steps in front of you, blocking your path. "Look, I get it. Being sick fucked with your head. But taking it out on the one person who didn't leave your side for a second? That's cold."

You try to sidestep her, but Nat mirrors your movement, refusing to let you pass.

"Move," you growl, your patience wearing thin.

"Or what?" Nat challenges, her eyes narrowing. "You'll throw shit at me too? Yeah, I heard your little temper tantrum."

Heat rises to your cheeks—embarrassment or anger, you're not sure which. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I know Shauna's pregnant and exhausted and scared out of her mind, and instead of cutting her some slack, you're treating her like she's the enemy." Nat's voice is hard, uncompromising. "I know she sat with you for days, barely sleeping, because she was terrified you wouldn't wake up."

"I didn't ask her to!" The words burst out of you, familiar and hollow.

"Jesus, listen to yourself," Nat scoffs. "You think any of us ask for the shit that happens out here? You think Shauna asked to get pregnant? You think Jackie asked to freeze to death?"

The mention of Jackie makes something twist painfully in your chest. "Fuck you," you mutter, but there's less heat behind it now.

"No, fuck you," Nat retorts without missing a beat. "Shauna deserves better than this."

You finally manage to push past her, continuing toward the lean-to with your bundle of possessions clutched to your chest like a shield. "Then maybe she should find someone better."

Nat lets out a short, incredulous laugh. "Wow. You really don't get it, do you?"

You ignore her, focusing on arranging your things in the cramped space of the lean-to. It's not much—barely enough room to lie down—but it's away from the suffocating atmosphere of the cabin, away from Shauna's constant, worried gaze.

"She loves you, you idiot," Nat says from behind you, her voice softer now. "For whatever fucked-up reason, she chose you. And you're throwing it away because what? You're scared? News flash—we're all scared. All the time."

You keep your back to her, unable to face the truth in her words. "She'll be better off without me."

"That's bullshit and you know it." Nat sighs, and you can picture her running a hand through her short hair in frustration. "Look, whatever's going on in your head right now—whatever that fever dredged up—you don't have to deal with it alone."

You finally turn to face her, something sharp and defensive rising in your throat. "Like you're one to talk about dealing with things alone. When's the last time you let anyone help you, Nat?"

It's a low blow, and you know it. Nat's expression hardens, her moment of vulnerability evaporating.

"At least I'm not deliberately hurting people who care about me," she says coldly. "But hey, if this is really what you want—to push away the one good thing in this hellhole—then go for it. Just don't come crying to me when you realize what you've lost."

With that, she turns and walks away, leaving you alone in the small shelter with nothing but your scattered possessions and the hollow feeling expanding in your chest.

You sit on the rough ground, suddenly exhausted despite having only been awake for a few hours. The anger that's been fueling you for days flickers uncertainly, leaving behind something that feels dangerously close to regret.

In the distance, you can see the cabin, smoke curling lazily from its chimney. Somewhere inside are the remnants of the life you'd built with Shauna—the shared mattresses pushed together for warmth, the way her hand always found yours in the dark, the quiet conversations that made the wilderness feel less vast, less deadly.

And now there's just this—a lean-to barely big enough for one, a growing distance that feels both necessary and unbearable, and the nagging, persistent fear that maybe Nat is right. Maybe you are throwing away the one good thing left.

But you can't go back. Not now. Not when every look from Shauna feels like an expectation you can't possibly fulfill. Not when the memory of your mother walking away is still so fresh from your fever dreams, reminding you that love is conditional, temporary.

Better to be the one who leaves than the one left behind.

So you stay where you are, arranging and rearranging your few possessions, trying to make this tiny space feel like something other than what it is—a retreat, a surrender, a preemptive strike against an abandonment you're certain is coming.

And if your vision blurs with unshed tears as you work, well—that's nobody's business but your own.

[jjkamochoso]

…Do You Want Some Toast?

Fluff

Kento Nanami x gn!reader

When Nanami wakes up and doesn’t feel you by his side, he’s determined to figure out what happened to you.

Warnings: unsettling imagery (blood mention)

Kento Nanami is a peaceful man.

He doesn’t like to fight, he’s never quick to anger. He gets frustrated that his sighs of resignation and irritation often fall on deaf ears, though he’s never all that worked up about anything anyway. He’s a rational thinker and never gets too lost in his imagination before figuring out an answer to a problem.

Usually, that is.

He turned over in bed, in that state between asleep and awake where nothing matters except cuddling with the one you love and falling back into restfulness. That was exactly his plan, his arm reaching over to the spot where you lay faithfully each night, eager to cozy up into your blonde boyfriend’s gentle grasp.

The bed was cold…

Why was the bed cold?

Nanami opened his eyes, his vision adjusting to the dark that encompassed him. He tentatively patted next to him, double checking that you really weren’t there and that he hadn’t just missed your sleeping form in his tiredness. He lied stiffly for a few minutes, listening for sounds of you finally walking back to bed but they never came. His mouth was turned into a frown as he looked at his bedside clock: 3:32 AM. This behavior wasn’t like you. If you had gotten up for a bathroom break or glass of water, you would’ve been back by now. Did you fall? Were you hurt?

As Nanami peeled back the covers, ready to begin searching your shared residence to find you, he stopped abruptly. He heard a loud slam from a room toward the front of the apartment.

Had a burglar, or worse, a curse found its way inside?

Kento wasted no time getting out of bed, opening his wooden nightstand drawer as quietly as possible, grabbing his trademark knife and glasses. As he creeped down the hallway, his mind wouldn’t stop wandering, picturing various grisly situations you might’ve been in like you were in some sort of messed up horror movie. At times, your guys’ lives were like a horror movie, battling terrifying incarnations of cursed energy. Nanami knew it would be easy enough to take down any sorcerer if they weren’t expecting an attack in the middle of the night in their home.

Well, maybe not Gojo, but Nanami really didn’t want to think about that man so early in the morning, if ever.

Nanami took a deep breath and took in his surroundings. He listened for your cries, smelled the air for blood, willed his eyes to scan for shadowy movements.

There was nothing.

And then there was something.

His ears perked up at a strange noise coming from the kitchen. He registered some sort of rhythmic scratching, though he couldn’t fathom what it could possibly be. A curse trying to get in the window? A curse that had already killed you and was now using your fingernails and blood to paint a picture?

There was only one way to find out.

Nanami’s knuckles were ghostly white as he gripped his weapon and walked slowly with one hand trailing the wall next to him, praying his glasses would shield his eyes from the light that was about to flood the kitchen.

“Don’t move!” he yelled out, finding the light switch easily and turning it on to stun his opponent. Thankfully his glasses did help, allowing him to see what type of intruder he was dealing with.

Actually, he didn’t need the light at all—your scream of “Stop right there!” was answer enough.

“Y/n? Are you alright?” he asked earnestly, abandoning his glasses and knife on the countertop when he saw you weren’t dead, barely moving in a pool of your own blood, or whatever other terrible scenario he had thought happened.

Though you hadn’t answered him, Nanami spied you putting down your own knife, apparently ready to strike at whoever was sneaking up on you in the dark. He looked around the kitchen and saw various items sprawled about: butter, a plate, a loaf of bread, and a toaster.

Kento Nanami had never felt dumber.

“…Do you want some toast?” you gestured, offering him a sheepish smile, your cheeks filled with the toast you had just taken a huge bite of. Nanami sighed, running an exasperated hand through his hair.

“You were in here making a snack this entire time? I thought you… I thought someone had come in, or a curse. If you had gotten hurt, I don’t know what I…”

Nanami was a loss for words, visibly in distress, and you felt awful.

“Oh Kento,” you said, rushing over to give him a hug, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to stress you out so bad. I was trying to be quiet so I didn’t wake you up but I accidentally dropped the toaster and then I made the toast too crispy so then buttering it was really loud and then-”

“Don’t apologize,” he cut you off, his brown eyes finding comfort in your own, “I should’ve checked to see if it was you first. My imagination got the best of me tonight and for that, I apologize to you.”

“You have no reason to be sorry either,” you told him, smoothing your hands over his pajama top, “I’m lucky to have such a caring, fearless boyfriend like you. You were more than ready to take down whoever was in here.” You let out a small laugh as your palms rested on his broad chest. “Even though I was about to be on the chopping block, I thought you looked really hot in your attack mode.”

Nanami felt his cheeks warm as a blush made itself evident. He cleared his throat, your flirting flustering him and his sleepy, muddled brain.

“Finish your toast, darling, then come back to bed, okay?”

You stifled a chuckle with another bite of your mid-night meal, giving him the thumbs up.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he said, kissing some crumbs off the corner of your mouth before scooping up his belongings and heading back into the bedroom, ready to cuddle up with the love of his life and put his overactive thoughts to rest.

That night, as he held you close, Nanami dreamt of taking you to the finest bakeries around the world.

[goldfades]

★ AND YOU SAY I ABANDONED THE SHIP / BUT I WAS GOING DOWN WITH IT / MY WHITE KNUCKLE DYING GRIP / SO HOW MUCH SAD DID YOU THINK I HAD, DID YOU THINK I HAD IN ME? / HOW MUCH TRAGEDY? / JUST HOW LOW DID YOU THINK I'D GO? ─── PB⁵ (part 1/2)

❪ requested -> paige and ex gf!reader that plays on iowa where theres a lot of tension on the court bc they ended on rough terms but u can see that they still care abt each other yet have to prioritize the game // hii could u write for paige x ex gf iowa!reader where they play against each other in the final four and everyone can tell theres sm tension on the court between them bc they ended on rough terms ? they still care abt each other a lot but r forced to put those feelings aside for the sake of the game (but they def had a talk afterwards) - u can make it so that iowa still won or uconn won i think either one would be interesting ! tysm ❫ part two!!!!!!!!!!

─ warnings | ANGSTTTTT!!!!!! mentions of transfers, fighting, paige being a BITCHHHH LIKE so mean (but its for the plot trust), banter at the end, mention of cc and kate martin, jealous!paige

─ ev's notes | tried a new format for the third little part thingy idk if yall like it but lmk (like the iowa game part)

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my wcbb masterlist!

JUNE 2022

Y/N L/N ANNOUNCES ENTERS THE TRANSFER PORTAL AFTER ALLEGED DISAGREEMENT OVER PLAYING TIME. In a surprising turn of events, UConn defensive star Y/N L/N has announced her decision to enter the transfer portal.

Despite the official narrative focusing on playing time, insiders report that L/N's decision is rooted in a desire to find a new environment where she can heal and focus on her game without the added stress of her recent breakup with Paige Bueckers, another star player for the Huskies. The emotional toll of the split has reportedly affected her performance and well-being, prompting her to make a fresh start at another school.

UConn’s coaching staff and teammates have expressed their support for L/N, acknowledging the challenges she has faced. "Y/N is an incredible athlete and person," said Coach Geno Auriemma. "We respect her decision and wish her nothing but the best in her future endeavors."

As L/N navigates this difficult period, she remains committed to her basketball career and is looking forward to finding a new team where she can continue to shine both on and off the court. While the specifics of her next move remained uncertain for a short time, it has now been confirmed that she will be transferring to Iowa.

Fans and fellow players have taken to social media to show their support for L/N, emphasizing the importance of mental health and personal well-being in the demanding world of collegiate sports. Iowa's coaching staff has expressed their excitement about welcoming L/N to the team. "We are thrilled to have Y/N join us," said Coach Lisa Bluder. "She brings exceptional talent and experience to our program, and we are committed to supporting her both on and off the court."

As Y/N L/N begins her new journey with the Iowa Hawkeyes, there is no doubt that she will continue to be a formidable presence in collegiate basketball. Her resilience and determination promise to make her time at Iowa just as remarkable as her tenure at UConn.

──

"So you're really doing it?" Paige's expression was unimpressed, bordering disgusted as she pushed herself between you and the door.

You sniffled, glaring at the blonde. "Get out of my way, Paige."

She crossed her arms, standing firm. "So that's it? You're just going to run away? Because of us?"

"It's not about that," you snapped, the weight of your duffel bag making your shoulder ache. "It's about me needing to be okay. And I can't do that here."

Paige's eyes softened for a moment, but she didn't budge. "Y/N, we're a team. You can't just leave us like this. Leave me like this."

You shook your head, frustration boiling over. "This isn't about the team. This is about us, Paige. I can't be around you every day, pretending like everything's fine when it's not. I'm not okay with being on the same team as you, do you get that, Paige?"

Paige's expression flickered with a mix of anger and something else — maybe hurt. "You think Iowa is going to magically fix everything? Running away doesn't solve anything, I promise you that."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "This isn't running away. This is me choosing to put myself first for once. I have to do this."

"What happened to loyalty? As soon as things get hard, you're running away! How does that make sense?" Paige let out a bitter laugh as you bit your lip, trying your best not to blow up. "God, what is wrong with you?"

You couldn't hold it in anymore. "You shouldn't be talking about loyalty, Paige! You left me, remember? We've been through-"

"Don't you dare say it, Y/N." Paige's voice was sharp, but you pressed on, the dam of emotions breaking.

"We've been through so much together, and you just threw it all away! You can't expect me to stay here and pretend like everything's fine when it's not."

Paige's eyes blazed with anger. "Oh, don't turn this around on me! You think you're the only one who got hurt? You think it was easy for me to make that decision? You're such a selfish-"

"Selfish?" you interrupted, your voice rising, ringing throughout the locker room. "I'm selfish for wanting to protect my mental health? I'm selfish for needing to get away from the constant reminder of what we had and lost?"

"You're selfish for abandoning the team! For abandoning me!" Paige shouted, her voice cracking. "Do you have any idea what it's going to be like without you here?"

"You don't get to play the victim," you shot back, tears streaming down your face as you sniffled. "You're the one who ended things. You don't get to decide how I cope with that."

Paige took a step closer, her face contorted with rage. "Fine, go to Iowa. Run away like a little pussy. But don't you dare come back and expect everything to be okay. Don't you dare think you can just waltz back into our lives when it suits you."

"That's not what I'm doing," you retorted, your voice shaking as you averted your gaze. "I need this, Paige. I need to get away from you."

"Then go!" she yelled, her voice echoing in the empty locker room. "But don't expect me to forgive you for this. For leaving when things got tough. For being a pussy."

"Oh, really?" You laughed, anger filling your body. "Fuck you. I thought we could be mature, but apparently we can't."

Paige's eyes flashed with fury. "Mature? You're the one who's bailing when things get hard! That's not mature, that's cowardly."

You clenched your fists, trying to keep your composure. "You think this is easy for me? You think I want to leave? I'm doing this because I have to, not because I want to. I'm trying to survive, Paige!"

"Survive?" she scoffed, stepping closer. "What about me? What about the team? We need you, and you're just walking away."

"I'm not your crutch," you shot back. "You have no right to make me feel guilty for taking care of myself. This isn't just about you, Paige. This is about my sanity, my well-being."

Paige's face twisted with a mix of anger and hurt. "Fine, go ahead and leave. But don't expect me to be here waiting for you when you decide to come back."

"I don't expect anything from you anymore," you replied coldly. "I'm done expecting anything from you."

Paige's expression darkened further, and she took another step closer, her voice lowering to a venomous whisper. "You know what? Maybe it's good you're leaving. No one needs your drama and bullshit. You're not as important as you think you are."

The words stung, cutting deeper than you expected. But Paige wasn't finished. "And let's be real, Y/N, Iowa's not going to "fix" you. You're still going to be the same fucked-up person, running from your problems. Maybe if you weren't so broken, none of this would have happened."

You felt as though the air had been sucked out of the room. Her words were like a knife twisting in your gut. You blinked back tears, feeling your heart shatter into even smaller pieces. "You... you have no idea what I've been through," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "To get here, to prove myself to everyone."

"Clearly, I don't," Paige shot back, her voice full of disdain. "Because if I did, maybe I would've seen what a complete waste of time it was to care about you."

The finality of her words was like a slap in the face. You stood there, stunned, feeling the weight of her anger and your own heartbreak. Without another word, you turned and walked out of the locker room, each step feeling heavier than the last.

As you stepped outside, the cool evening air did little to soothe the burning pain in your chest. Iowa was waiting, but now it felt more like an escape from a nightmare than a fresh start. You knew you could never go back, not after what had been said. The bridge between you and Paige was not just burned — it was incinerated.

Driving away, tears blurred your vision. The future was uncertain, and the path ahead seemed daunting. But one thing was clear: you were done with Paige, done with the hold she had over you. It was time to find a place where you could heal, far away from the person who had just torn your heart apart.

──

NOVEMBER 2022

"Welcome, everyone, to what promises to be an exciting game tonight!" The commentator's voice boomed through the arena. "We have Iowa facing off against Ohio State, and all eyes are on Y/N L/N, the transfer from UConn. Let's see how she gels with her new teammates, especially standout stars Caitlin Clark and Kate Martin."

"Y/N L/N, the former UConn star who made headlines with her controversial transfer, had seamlessly integrated herself into the Iowa lineup. Her defensive prowess, combined with her sharp shooting skills, had brought a new dimension to the team's gameplay."

"And there she is, folks! Y/N L/N, number 89, making her presence felt on both ends of the court. She's been a force to be reckoned with tonight, shutting down opponents left and right while sinking those crucial shots when her team needs them most."

From the moment the game tipped off, Y/N was in her element. She moved with a grace and confidence that captivated the audience, her presence on the court undeniable. Within minutes, it was clear that she had found her rhythm with her new team.

"Clark passes the ball to L/N... she fakes, drives to the basket... and what a beautiful layup! L/N puts Iowa on the board first with an impressive move."

The crowd erupted in cheers, and Y/N's teammates swarmed her, sharing her excitement. Clark gave her an encouraging pat on the back as she jogged back on defense.

"That's the kind of play Iowa fans were hoping to see from L/N," the commentator continued. "She brings a fresh energy and versatility to this team."

As the game progressed, Y/N's synergy with her teammates became even more apparent. She seamlessly integrated into the flow of Iowa’s offense, making smart passes and setting effective screens.

"Clark with the ball now, looking for an opening... she finds L/N at the top of the key. L/N drives, kicks it out to Martin on the wing... and it's a three! Kate Martin nails the shot, and L/N gets the assist."

Kate Martin and Caitlin Clark were all smiles, high-fiving Y/N as they took a moment to savor the play. The three of them were quickly becoming a formidable trio on the court, their chemistry undeniable.

"Y/N L/N is not just playing well—she's thriving," the commentator observed. "Her ability to read the game and make those around her better is exactly what Iowa needed."

In the second half, Y/N continued to shine, her defensive efforts just as impressive as her offensive contributions. She hustled for rebounds, dove for loose balls, and her tenacity was infectious.

"Ohio State struggling to get past L/N's defense... and she steals it! L/N on the fast break now... passes to Clark, who finishes with a perfect layup! What a dynamic duo!"

As the final buzzer sounded, Iowa secured a decisive victory. The scoreboard read 82-67, and Y/N's performance was a significant part of that success.

"And that's the game! Iowa takes the win, and what a debut for Y/N L/N. She finishes with 12 points, 7 assists, and 5 rebounds. An all-around stellar performance."

"And there you have it, folks! A stunning performance from the Iowa Hawkeyes, led by the dynamic trio of L/N, Martin, and Clark. With players like these, the sky's the limit for this team, and the rest of the league better watch out!"

As Y/N waved to the cheering crowd, she couldn't help but smile. This was the fresh start she needed, and it was only the beginning.

──

"Great game tonight, ladies!" The reporter started, a broad smile on her face. "Y/N, this was your debut with Iowa, and you were nothing short of fantastic out there. How does it feel to be part of this team?"

You smiled, your eyes twinkling with a mix of relief and joy. "It feels incredible. The support from the coaching staff, my teammates, and the fans has been amazing. I couldn't have asked for a better start here at Iowa."

Caitlin, sitting to your right, nodded enthusiastically. "Y/N has been a fantastic addition. Her energy and skills have really brought a new dynamic to our team."

Kate Martin chimed in, a playful grin on her face. "Yeah, she fits right in. It's like she's been here all along, like seriously."

The reporter continued, "Y/N, you and Caitlin seemed to have an almost telepathic connection on the court tonight. Can you tell us a bit about how you've built such strong chemistry so quickly?"

You glanced at Caitlin, who gave you an encouraging nod. "Honestly, it's been pretty natural. Cait is such a smart player, and she makes it easy to connect and play off each other. We've been putting in a lot of extra time together, and it's really paying off."

Caitlin added, "Y/N is a hard worker, and her basketball IQ is off the charts. We clicked from day one, and it's only getting better."

Kate, not wanting to be left out, jumped in with a laugh. "Don't forget about me! The three of us have really gelled as a unit. We push each other to be better every day."

You put your arm around the blonde, earning a laugh from her. "Don't worry, Katie we wouldn't leave you out."

The reporter smiled, clearly enjoying the dynamic. "It's great to see such strong teamwork and friendship! What's next for this Iowa team? How are you planning to build on tonight's performance?"

You looked thoughtful for a moment before answering. "We're just going to keep working hard, stay focused, and take it one game at a time. Tonight was a great win, but we know there's a lot of work ahead of us."

Caitlin nodded in agreement. "Absolutely. We have high expectations for ourselves, and we know we can achieve great things if we stick together and keep pushing."

Kate leaned in, her expression serious but with a hint of a smile. "We're aiming high. We want to make a deep run this season, and with Y/N on board, we feel like we can compete with anyone."

The interview wrapped up, and as the cameras turned off, the three players shared a group hug, your bond clear for everyone to see.

As they headed back to the locker room, Caitlin threw an arm around your shoulders. "You did great tonight. Welcome to the team, officially."

Kate added, "Yeah, we're glad to have you, Y/N. And this is just the beginning, trust."

──

"The fuck," Paige grumbled as she watched the post-game interview on TV, bitterness clear on her face. Nika and Aubrey exchanged amused glances as they watched Paige, who's eyes were glued on the screens.

Despite the fallout with Paige, you were still close with the rest of the team. You wouldn't let Paige get in between you and your old team, no matter the circumstances.

Paige's gaze finally averted from the screen, looking at the girls. "Does this shit not bother you guys like, not even a little bit?"

"Nah, P." Nika responded as she sighed, leaning back on the couch. "We're proud of her."

Aubrey continued, her tone gentle but firm. "I mean, you guys dated and shit. There's bound to be some bitter feelings, y'know."

Paige scoffed, crossing her arms tightly. "Yeah, well, it still sucks seeing her over there, acting like everything's fine."

Nika gave Paige a sympathetic look. "I get it, Paige. It's hard seeing someone you care about move on, especially after everything you two went through. But she's doing what's best for her. You have to respect that."

Aubrey nodded in agreement. "And honestly, she's killing it over there. Seeing her happy and thriving makes us happy, too. It's not about choosing sides—it's about supporting our friend."

"Did you hear her?" Their words went in one ear and out the other, her gaze turning back to the TV. "Oh Katie! We'd never leave you out. Like shut up," she mocked as Aubrey let out a laugh.

It was obvious she was jealous, it was a rare sight for the usually, confident blonde. Nika and Aubrey exchanged another glance, this time with knowing smiles. They could see right through Paige's facade.

"Wow, Paige, are you actually jealous?" Aubrey teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Never thought I'd see the day."

Paige rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the blush creeping up her cheeks. "I'm not jealous," she protested, though her tone lacked conviction. "I just don't like seeing her act all buddy-buddy with them."

"Sure," Nika said, leaning back and stretching. "It's just because she's happy and thriving without you, right?"

Paige shot her a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. "Shut up, Nika."

Aubrey laughed again, patting Paige on the shoulder. "It's okay to admit you miss her, Paige. We all miss her. But she's doing what she needs to do, and we have to respect that."

"I do respect that." Paige interjected, her voice defensive. The three of them quieted down, continuing watching the TV. "I guess she has a thing for blondes," she mumbled under her breathe.

"Come on, Paige!" Nika groaned as Aubrey began to laugh uncontrollably. "Stop encouraging her, Aubrey."

Paige rolled her eyes, a faint smirk playing on her lips despite herself. "What? It's true. First me, now Kate. Seems like she has a type. Blonde, 6ft and hoopers, I mean..."

Aubrey wiped away a tear from laughing so hard. "Oh my god, Paige. You're insane."

Nika shook her head, trying to suppress her own laughter. "First, you are not 6ft. And maybe it's time to focus on your game and let Y/N do her thing. You can't keep dwelling on this."

"Yes, I am! With shoes, I am." Paige sighed, the humor fading from her expression. "And I know. It's just hard, you know? Seeing her so happy without me. Without us."

Aubrey softened, leaning in to give Paige a reassuring pat on the back. "You'll get there. It just takes time. And who knows, maybe this will be a good thing for both of you in the long run."

Paige nodded, her eyes drifting back to the screen where Y/N was still beaming in the post-game interview. "Yeah, maybe you're right."

Nika stood up, stretching her arms above her head. "Alright, enough of this. Let's hit the gym. We have a season to focus on, and we need you at your best, Paige."

Paige took a deep breath, standing up as well. "You're right. Let's go."

Aubrey joined them, a supportive smile on her face. "That's the spirit. And remember, we're here for you, no matter what."

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[stvrnioloslvt-inactive]

❛❛ ⛸️ + 🏒 ❞

fuck you, christopher sturniolo

✎ t.w.: sexual tension!

you sighed, throwing your books in your bag. what was the point of studying until you felt physically nauseous if the maximum you could get was always a C?

you didn't understand: you did everything you could think of to memorise and understand the stuff you had to study for your exams, yet it wasn't enough. it never was.

"hey! how..." your roommate turned to face you with a big smile on her face, holding proudly her exam sheet with a big red A written on top of it. her smile faded as soon as she saw your disappointed expression, her eyes falling to the piece of paper you had abandoned carelessly on your desk. "oh, baby..." she cooes, her hand rubbing comfortingly your arm. "it's fine, next time it'll go better, yeah?"

you shake your head, the weight of disappointment sitting heavily on your stomach. you sighed before saying, "i need to get some air. i'll see you at the rink, yeah?"

cherry sighed, but she nodded nevertheless. she whispered a soft "okay," then let go of your arm as you got up and left the room.

the halls were, as always, crowded as fuck. normally it wouldn't bother you one bit, but today...yeah, today you were pissed, to say the least. you just couldn't help it, negativity radiating from every cell of your body.

your original plan of going outside to cool your brain quickly changed, your feet bringing you elsewhere, completely out of your jurisdiction. and before you knew it, you stood at the perimeter of the ice rink, watching as a bunch of hockey players glided left and right across the arena.

your eyes caught the jersey of a man sliding right in front of you, the name "STURNIOLO", the number 3 standing proudly below it.

"yo, ice baby" chris took off his helmet right as the coach blew in the whistle, signaling the end of the practice. your friend shook his head left and right, droplets of sweat flying around. you mentally thanked the presence of the thick plastic walls between you two. chris got out of the rink, stomping his feet to reach you without losing balance.

he sat on the bench near you, putting the helmet down. "so? what are you doing here? you don't have lesson for another hour and a half."

you shrugged, sitting down beside him. "just had to get some fresh air."

chris eyed you, analyzing your face. he clearly didn't buy your lie, and he was determined to find out what was going on in your mind. "yeah, no kid, spill the truth or something cause i'm not buying your bullshit."

you groaned annoyed, well aware that he wasn't going to let it go until he had an answer. sighing, you got up, walking back and forth while explaining to him how frustrated you were at yourself cause no matter how hard you studied, nothing seemed to work and you felt like you were just loosing time.

chris didn't speak, letting you ramble on and on about your problem, eventually nodding to signal that he was, in fact, listening. you took a big breath once you finished talking, feeling definitely better. maybe cherry was right when she told you that speaking does, indeed, help.

"you do know that matt took the same exam, right?"

taken aback by his question, you didn't answer him: did he? he probably took it the year before, cause there was no way you never noticed him. you shook your head, sitting down in front of your friend.

he hummed, shrugging before casually saying "he did. passed with a straight A, maybe he can help you."

"i..."

"it's fine, really. i'll talk to him at dinner, yeah? don't worry, baby, you're gonna ace it." and just like that, he got up from the bench, grabbing his helmet before ruffling your hair and heading outside.

"hey! aren't you gonna shower or something?" you called out, watching confused as chris turned around briefly, exclaiming "water's out!" before closing the door behind him.

you furrowed your brows, clearly not expecting it. you decided to check for yourself, walking towards the door that lead to the locker room.

as you entered the room, you didn't notice the lonely gym bag hiding behind the door, its content spilling from the open zipper. you kept walking towards the showers, wanting to check the water pressure from one of the sinks there.

as you opened the door, steam engulfed you whole, blocking your view. from one of the open showers emerged matt, wrapped in a white towel. you stood frozen at the door, not knowing what to do, but with one thought in mind: fuck you, christopher sturniolo.

right as you turned around to run away from there, matt's eyes caught yours, freezing you on the spot. you couldn't help but admire the way drops of water dripped from his long hair, falling on his face and neck, running down to his exposed torso. and god, was he well sculpted. your mouth dried at the sight, your heart drumming in your ribcage. your hands itched with the want–no, the need– to touch him, to explore his body with your fingers, drawing every crevice and dip and curve of his abs.

"jesus," you whispered softly, almost inaudible, catching yourself in the act and hoping he didn't hear anything. luckily for you, he didn't. and if he did, he acted like he didn't.

he cleared his throat, smirking as your eyes snapped back to his face. "anything you like, baby?" he asked, stepping closer to you to grab another smaller towel he had placed on the sink earlier. he ran said towel through his hair, trying to absorbe as much water as possible, all while not breaking eye contact. for the first time, you asked yourself if he called you by your name or if he meant it as a pet name. either way, you didn't like how much it affected you.

"i- i'm sorry i didn't know you were here," you stuttered embarrassed, trying to regain some decency back.

he bit back a smile, genuinely amused by the situation. "clearly," he murmured, watching you struggle to not let your eyes fall back on his body. he decided to pull a little trick on you, glancing down quickly at his body knowing that the immediate reaction he would get would be a mirror of his own act. and, indeed, your eyes travelled down his body instinctively, a natural reflex of your own body betraying you. 

you mentally cursed yourself, realising too late what had just happened. however, you couldn’t help but stare, noticing only now the tent hiding beneath his towel. you didn’t know if it was the steam, matt’s presence or your own arousal, but your mind began fogging like crazy, leaving you dizzy and unstable on your legs. matt took a couple steps towards you, your feet moving backwards until your back hit the cold tile wall of the shower room, effectively trapping you.

you could feel the heat radiating from his body clouding your senses, turning your brain in mush.  

“matt-” you gasped, his blue eyes burning holes into your skin from the intensity of his gaze. he slowly raised his hand, caressing so delicately your cheek the same way you would touch a ceramic doll, delicate and careful in fear it might break. you closed your eyes at the contact, so delicate and warm yet so wrong and rushed. you swallowed hard before managing to croak out a soft “what are you…”

at the sound of your voice matt seemed to snap back to reality, his hand dropping by his side. the bubble of tension suddenly bursted, bringing you both back to reality, cold chills running through your arms. “shit, i-” he sighed, running a hand on his face, “you should probably go.”

you stood there paralyzed for a couple more seconds, watching as he turned around and walked away. you nodded slowly to no one in particular before running through the door, leaving the locker room. as soon as the chilled air of the halls hit your face you started breathing again, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

and as you walked towards your room, only one image crossed your mind, repeating on loop: matt sturniolo half naked in front of you, aching to touch you.

© stvrnioloslvt

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃/𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊. 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓

ও a.n: hi guys, i'm so sorry i haven't posted in a while, i have a shit ton of exams to take and way too little time to write :(

ও anyway, hope you liked the little sexual tension between those two, i sure has hell had fun writing it! as always, you're more than welcome in my comments/inbox to ask questions, requests, etc.

ও also... look how cute this little thing is! it's a fennec fox, and i feel like it embodies 100% baby's personality, cute as fuck but also wild and not too keen on physical contact. in love with it, honestly.

ও read other parts to this au here <3

love you all, bree ☾

icy taglist: @shadowthesim @sturnioloszn @sofieeeeex @m4ttg1rl @marrykisskilled @thecrawlys @x0x0bunny @izzylovesmatt @sturniolosweets @sturnslutz @user1smvtysturniolo @gabrielaperez11

[celeryb1tch]

spencer reid x student!reader

18+! this post contains nsfw content

when spencer gets home from work he finds that you haven’t finished your essay, so he tries to ease your mind.

content: lots of pet names, fem!reader, you’re getting an arts degree lol, age gap but not too intense since this is early-ish seasons spencer, slight degradation at the end, reader orgasm, oral and fingering (r! receives), overstim, forced orgasm.

(i’m literally gay but i’ve been so delusional and in love with this fictional man lately i had to write something to get it out of my system!!!)

—

when your boyfriend came home from work, tie loose and satchel abandoned on the kitchen counter, you felt a wave of embarrassment flush you. you were still working on the same essay you had been last night; the one spencer made you promise you’d finish today.

“how is my pretty girl?” he asked, laying back beside you on the couch. when he leaned over to kiss you chastely, your stomach churned and you shut your laptop quickly.

you could feel hot tears start to pool in your eyes, biting back the sob you so desperately needed to get out. spencer took one look at your face and sighed, wrapping an arm around you.

“oh, baby. you didn’t finish it?”

“i tried!” you protested, your eyes squeezed shut to avoid seeing his disappointed face. “please don’t be mad at me.”

spencer’s gentle hand cupped your cheek, running his thumb across it lightly. “look at me, angel. i’m not mad.”

the floodgates opened when you finally dared to look at him, seeing his mouth pressed in a flattened line. tears streaked your face and it only added to the embarrassment. your boyfriend was a capable man, and here you were crying because you couldn’t finish a stupid essay before he got home from his 9-to-5.

he tried to hold you closer, but you struggled against him. you didn’t deserve his comfort or his sympathy. he settled for running his free hand through your hair soothingly. “hey, just talk to me. what went wrong, can i help?”

you shook your head, fighting through a hiccupped sob to answer. “i couldn’t find the last source i need. i was sifting through articles for like four hours, and i just gave up.”

ever the problem solver, spencer smiled down at you softly. “okay, let me take a look. you know i have fairly good research skills, they’re kinda required for my job.”

“you don’t get it!” you huffed, frustration evident in your voice. “you go to work all day and i can’t even find one source. one! i shouldn’t need your help for everything.”

recognition flashed in his eyes, and then he really pulled you in. it was useless to relent, you could feel the determination in his touch. he shushed you softly, one hand wrapped around you firmly while the other drew patterns on your back. when your breaths slowed and your sobs subsided, he pulled back to hold you at arms’ length. “baby, you are one of the smartest people i know.”

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, and spencer grabbed your chin to ensure you couldn’t look away.

“i wouldn’t lie. no one i know is as sensitive as you are, as empathetic and in touch with their emotions. that’s what makes you so good at this program. i certainly couldn’t complete your degree.”

and you knew how bad at concealing the truth your boyfriend was, so reluctantly you believed him. “thank you,” you just about whispered.

his eyes cast pure adoration on you, even as your tear-stained cheeks were red and raw. “your incredible brain is one of the reasons i fell in love with you. so if you can’t find anything, there must be a reason. could you please just let me take a look?”

spencer had indisputably won you over, one arm still holding you to his side as he opened your laptop on his own lap. you relaxed into him, head pressed to his chest where you could hear his heart beating perfectly. with a hum, he scanned your tabs in a matter of seconds, scrolling to the bottom of the search result page at a speed the computer could barely keep up with. “i know what it is, but you’re not going to be happy.”

lifting your head, you squinted at your boyfriend inquisitively.

“you were typing the date wrong, honey. the last two numbers were flipped.”

you felt that feeling of incapability rush through you again, your eyes stinging in preparation to cry. but spencer was right there to prevent you from shutting down, hand on your head passing slow strokes in comfort.

his lips hitched into a small sympathetic smile when he looked down at you. “my poor girl, worked yourself up so hard your brain stopped working. too much essay writing this week.”

and of course, he was right. you’d been running yourself ragged recently trying to keep up with deadlines, not to mention the extra work you’d taken on early to prevent overwhelm for finals. when you’d told him your plan, spencer had advised against it. he didn’t want you sacrificing your sanity now for a bit more time with your boyfriend in a few months. but never not supportive, he relented and instead helped you draft a schedule to complete everything.

you couldn’t feel too stupid with spencer’s sweet voice telling you that you weren’t. “it’s not even due until next week, remember? i just wanted you to finish it tonight so i could take you out to dinner,” he confided sheepishly. “you’ve been working so hard, i wanted to reward you.”

despite knowing it was physically impossible (as spencer reminded you often), you could feel your heart swell from the overwhelming love you felt for your boyfriend. you pecked kisses all over his face incessantly until he swatted you away, blushing crimson from the unexpected affection. “okay, where are we going?”

spencer hummed mischievously in faux thought, tucking your wild hairs back from your face. “you didn’t finish your essay, so i actually think it’s only fair to punish you. at least before i take you out anyway.”

a heat bloomed in you, both in your cheeks and between your legs. it was rare that your boyfriend was anything but tooth-achingly sweet with you, saving his more dominant side for certain circumstances. apparently this was one of them. “oh, really? how are you gonna punish me, sir?”

he pulled you into his lap, mouth finding your neck immediately. “if you’re going to be stupid, i might as well treat you like you are. i know how much you like it when i call you a dumb slut, despite the fact that we’re both aware of how intelligent you are.”

your core ached with need, fluttering at his words. “that’s kinda fucked up, huh? i shouldn’t want that.”

“actually, it’s fairly common, especially for women with a high amount of stress in their everyday lives. most people enjoy some form of degradation and or praise when having sex.”

“spencer,” you groaned. his beautiful brain always had to get in the way of the fun, not that you seriously minded.

he smiled, pressing his lips to yours again. “sorry, baby. yes, it makes you a very naughty girl.”

despite the pure love in his eyes and his touch, you felt a pang of arousal when he degraded you. it felt good to be demeaned by someone who thought so highly of you. so you let him pin you against the couch, clothes long forgotten, and relished in his nasty words as he sunk to his knees before you.

your laptop was somewhere on the ground, still open to that unfinished document. but it was the last thing on your mind when you felt spencer’s mouth trailing down your front. his fingers hooked your panties, pulling them down with a string of arousal attached. “fuck,” he grumbled. “you are a little slut, aren’t you?”

you struggled to respond as his fingers passed through your folds, thumb toying with your clit lightly. “mhm, yours.”

“that’s right, baby.” all of the showy dominance dropped for a second when he smiled up at you, that familiar twinkle of passion in his eyes. and then he ate you out.

all you could do was grip the bedsheets, small whines leaving you each time he ran his tongue roughly up your clit. he’d take a moment to kiss your inner thighs, slipping two fingers inside to hit that sweet spot when he wasn’t lavishing it with his mouth. it wasn’t long before you were on the edge, feeling the knot snap in your stomach. with a start, you gasped through your orgasm, spencer’s hand finding yours to soothingly stroke his thumb across your knuckles. but as your breaths slowed, he didn’t.

“spence, i’m done,” you panted, hand gripping his hair.

“no you’re not.”

with a roll of your eyes, you tried to pull your hips away to no avail. his fingers were still pumping into you at a relentless pace. his head raised to meet your eyes, slick across his lips. he looked wild like this, disheveled, so different from your normal boyfriend, who was almost too sweet for his own good. “i told you this was a punishment.”

even knelt between your legs, this spencer was in complete control. his gaze was locked on yours, watching every tiny movement when he skimmed his thumb across your clit again. your core reignited when you realized what was going on. he was going to force you to cum again.

“please, too much” you whined, free hand pushing the top of his head away in a superficial effort. you couldn’t think properly with the intensity of the overstimulation.

spencer licked his lips, voice gravelly in a tone it only reached when he was purely aroused. “you can take it, honey. i know you can be a good girl for me. don’t you wanna be good?”

you nodded silently. there wasn’t much you could do but let him fuck you stupid.

“that’s it. gonna make you dumb, yeah? i’m gonna fuck you until you can’t think.” his head dipped down, resuming his wet, sloppy kisses to your clit. and with the combined effects of his words and actions, you were cumming again quickly.

you were unabashedly moaning now, jaw slacked open and eyes screwed shut. you were far past the point of caring what you looked like to the man furiously devouring you between your legs. your hand gripped his tighter, feeling his fingers pound a bit harder in acknowledgment.

your second orgasm felt like being catapulted into the atmosphere. it was sharper, practically knocking the air from your lungs. it took you a few moments to stop panting.

spencer grinned up at you, a sight for sore eyes in your clouded vision. “thinking about anything, baby?” he asked. and when he only received a small shake of your head, “good.”

his mouth returned to your core, soft kitten licks causing you to twitch and wince away. he squeezed your hand firmly, giving you a stern look. “only cleaning you up this time, promise.”

once you weren’t dripping arousal down your thighs, spencer pulled you onto him when he sat back down on the couch. all you could focus on were his warm, strong hands tracing sequences on your skin. he loved to imagine binary code, mapping it out on you because he knew the motion calmed you down.

you were barely conscious, brain buzzing like tv static in the post-sex bliss. you heard spencer chuckle to himself before saying, “so i think we’re getting takeout.”

[wqlfstqr]

⋆𐙚 clay kisses 𖥻 leo valdez

mari talks! this was supposed to be a lil blurb for leo's birthday but uh.. it just kept going.

Leo is trying to focus. He really is. He has a half-finished project on his desk and a very real to-do list scribbled somewhere on a notebook. He has things to do. He shouldn't be so distracted.

But how could he focus when she was just right there? sitting at the little space he'd cleared for her in the corner, wearing one of his old shirts over her cute outfit, hair tied back, a stubborn pout in her face, her eyebrows furrowed as she eyes suspiciously the strange-looking mold of clay she's trying to shape into a mug.

"I just want to make a mug." She huffs, clearly frustrated, even though she started less than twenty minutes ago. "Why isn't this thing cooperating with me?"

Behind her, Leo looks up from where he's welding, snorting once his eyes fall on the suspicious mug.

"Oh no, love, I'd definitely drink from that mug." He tells her, smirking. "But that's only if the water doesn’t slip through the cracks first."

"I will throw this at your head."

He pushes the googles on top of his curls, absolutely grinning. "Wouldn't be the first time you assaulted me in this bunker."

"This time it'll be justified." She wrinkles her nose in that way that makes Leo's heart melt.

And he's immediately dropping his tools to cross the space with three quick steps, because as much as he loves teasing her, he also doesn’t like to see her upset. "Okay, okay! i'm sorry, angel girl. I'm sure it'll turn out great."

That helps her, and she looks determined again as she nods and goes back to work. Leo should go back to working again. He has so much work to do.

Yeah, no. Instead, he stands behind her, arms wrapping around her waist and placing his chin on her shoulder to look at her side profile, smiling when he catches her squinting like she's trying very hard to focus all her attention into her project.

"Stop staring." She mumbles without even looking up.

Leo blinks, startled. "I'm not."

"Yes, you are." Her fingers make a dent on the mug and her lips frown slightly.

"Maybe i'm just impressed." He says, hands squeezing her waist. "Look at you, my little artist. All focused and determined and cute."

She doesn’t reply, but he can see her blush even as she quietly huffs, and he smiles fondly at the way she's unable to hide her frustration.

"I can help, you know." He offers, hiding a smile as he presses his lips to her temple.

She eyes him suspiciously. "With clay?"

Leo hums, and she doesn’t move when his hands go up her waist and instead slide down her arms, his calloused fingers resting just over hers as he gently guides her hand over the wobbly shape of her mug.

"Here." he says sofly, guiding her fingers. "You need to apply the right amount of pressure."

"How do you even know about pottery?" She asks, but she follows his guidance, willing herself not to get distracted by how close he's standing behind her, his nose brushing her cheek, his breath against her neck.

"I'm a man of many talents." he murmurs. "Just trust me."

And it works. Sort of. The mug is still wobbly, but she manages to smooth out one side of it. She's about to try on the other side, when Leo starts pressing light kisses to her jaw, succesfully distracting her.

"Leo—" She tries to warn, but there’s no edge to her voice.

"What?" He replies, and she can feel his smile against her cheek as he moves to press a kiss there. "I'm just really into encouraging artists."

He kisses the corner of her mouth next, her breath catching as one of his hands leaves the mug, instead grabbing her chin to turn her face slightly towards him to kiss her properly— it's not rushed, just soft and slow in a way that make her knees feel weak. His lips are warm, familiar and welcoming.

It isn't until she fully turns around, hands abandoning the mug to instead bury her fingers on his curls, that he deepens the kiss. Hungrier. His hands are everywhere, like he doesn’t know where to settle: her waist to pull her closer, then sliding up her back, then her neck and then reaching to cup her cheeks, thumb smudging something cold against her skin.

She gasps, pulling away. "You're getting clay all over me!"

"You started it." He points the clay fingerprints on his shirt, then she giggles when she pulls her hands away from his hair. "And on my curls, too!"

Before she can make a snarky comeback, he's kissing her again, quick and hungry this time, hands cupping her cheek as her back bumps against the table. Neither of them notices the mug wobbling on the edge of the table, too busy sharing breathless kisses, full of laughs in between, like neither of them can get enough of each other.

And then— clang.

They both hear it, and Leo pulls away with a curse, reaching out one-handed, barely catching the mug by the rim before it hits the floor. For a moment, they stay silent, looking at the mug in his hand, slightly squished under his fingers, slightly indented.

She looks horrified. "Oh no! we ruined my mug"

"I wouldn't say ruined." Leo tries to comfort her as he places it back on the table. The mug... well, it has definitely seen better days. "Hey, look at it."

He points it out, and she frowns. "I'm looking at it, it's ugly."

"No it's not." Leo shakes his head. "You see the dent? If you tilt your head this way, it totally looks like a heart. You did a heart-shaped mug. That's romantic as hell, angel."

She snorts. "That definitely doesn’t look like a heart."

But Leo's already looking at it proudly as he gently settles it down on the shelf above his work station, like it's some sort of trophy. "I'm keeping it."

"What? No! you don't have to keep it just to make me feel better."

"Are you kidding? It's a work of art, and made by you, what more could I ask for?" He replies like it's simply obvious, turning towards her to press a peck to her lips.

Then, as he pulls back, his hands still hold her face as if she's the most precious, delicate thing in the world. "Look at you! Covered in clay and still the prettiest thing in this bunker."

She rolls her eyes, cheeks warm and smile bright. "Next time, i'm making a bowl."

"Oh just let me know so I can distract you from that one too." He smirks, his lips leaving a kiss on her clay covered nose.

She laughs, and Leo smile softens, always so glad to be able to hear her laugh. They simply stay there, smiling and giggling, both covered in gray clay fingerprints.

[weemssapphic]

Post-Gym Workout

Miranda Hilmarson x f!reader

a few months ago, @jadewolf22 requested sub!Miranda x reader hitting the gym together and Miranda getting turned on by reader lifting weights. cue sex with manhandling, spanking, marking, praise, degradation. this is that and I haven't written smut in a while so please be kind 🤍 (also sorry for disappearing I am Overwhelmed and Exhausted but I'm still here and I love you guys)

words: ~2.8k | ao3 link in title

‘I’m outside’ you text Miranda just after pulling into a spot outside of her apartment building, unable to stop your lips from curling into a smile when she immediately reads the text and starts typing.

‘Be right out! x’ 

Dropping your phone into the cupholder of your car, you drum your fingers against the steering wheel and wait for your girlfriend to come outside. It’s unbearably hot, even for an Australian summer, and you crank up the AC and put your hair up to keep it from sticking to the back of your neck. You’re beginning to regret the decision to go to the gym today, but it’s rare that you and Miranda have a day off together and she’s been begging you to hit the gym with her - you’re going to have to suck it up.

A flash of blonde in your peripheral vision makes you turn your head to see Miranda taking long strides towards your car, her gym bag slung over her shoulder. A massive grin lights up her face the second she makes eye contact with you through the windshield and she jogs the remainder of the way to the car, tossing her bag onto the backseat before sliding in next to you and leaning across the center console.

“Hi, baby,” you murmur against the blonde’s lips as she immediately goes in for a kiss, which you quickly deepen. Miranda’s smile is lovestruck when she pulls back and puts on her seatbelt, and the two of you fall into easy conversation on the short drive to the gym.

You notice Miranda’s gaze lingering on your body a few times as the two of you get changed in the locker room - you decide to tease her by making a show of bending over to put on your leggings. When you turn around, you’re secretly gleeful to find that her cheeks have turned a lovely shade of pink. 

“Like what you see?” you tease as you close your locker and grab your water bottle and towel from the bench. Miranda rolls her eyes and smiles sheepishly, turning to grab her own things in a vain attempt to hide her growing blush. 

As you work out, you can tell that Miranda is trying to be subtle about checking you out, but you know her too well not to notice. You can’t say you don’t feel the same way - watching her work up a sweat is starting to make you really glad you agreed to accompany her today (even though your own arousal is starting to feel a little frustrating).

It’s when you’re at the squat rack, reracking the barbell you’ve just had across your upper back, that you look at Miranda through the mirror, sitting on a bench behind you, her eyes glued to your ass and her cheeks gorgeously flushed, and decide you’ve had enough.

“I’m taking you home,” you say abruptly, grabbing your towel and water bottle from the floor next to the rack and turning around to walk straight past your partner. Your tone seems to snap her out of whatever perverted daydream she was immersed in, and she shoots up and trails behind you, her brows knit together in confusion.

“What? Why? Are you okay?”

Her legs might be longer than yours but your determination drives you to the locker room in record time, with Miranda stumbling after you.

“I wasn’t finished,” she whines with a pout as she follows you into the locker room, but you’re too busy checking to make sure you’re alone to respond right away, abandoning your belongings on a bench. Once you’re satisfied that you’re alone, you turn on your heel, with Miranda closer than you’d expected her to be.

“I don’t think you’re going to have any trouble finishing later,” you husk, one arm wrapping around her waist as the other hand slides into her hair and pulls her in for a heated kiss. Miranda’s frozen for a moment - then the meaning of your words registers in her brain and she moans, kissing you back eagerly as her hands find your hips. Her lips part for you in a silent request to deepen the kiss - you slip your tongue into her mouth, your jaw nearly going slack as you taste her and feel your clit throb with need.

You pull back, breathing heavily, your eyes hooded as you look up at Miranda through your lashes - she looks a bit dazed as she looks down at you, her chest heaving and her milky skin splotched with red. You smirk as you step away, opening your locker to pull out your bag and toss your things haphazardly inside, before slinging it over your shoulder. “Well?”

Miranda follows briskly behind you, and it takes all your self-restraint to keep your hands off of her on your way to the car. The drive back to Miranda’s place seems to take forever - the air in the car feels hot and heavy despite the AC, and Miranda doesn’t make it any easier for you by squirming noticeably in her seat.

The second you arrive at home and she closes the apartment door behind her, you’re all over each other again. Your hands find her hips and grip them tight enough to bruise as you push her towards the bedroom, your lips leaving a trail of sloppy, passionate kisses along the underside of her jaw. You wait until the backs of her knees have hit the bed, then give her a little shove - she lands on her back, looking up at you with hooded eyes and a flushed, heaving chest.

You climb on top of her, straddle her, run your hands up the sides of her clothed torso. She shivers, reaches out to grasp your hips, squeezes them. Her pupils dilate as her eyes roam your body, admiring your silhouette beneath your tight athletic wear. Her fingers twitch - you can tell that she’s eager to get you out of your restrictive clothing but she knows you’re in charge, so she doesn’t dare make the first move.

“You’re so beautiful,” you hum quietly as your hands slide beneath Miranda’s t-shirt, pushing it upwards. She blushes crimson at the sincerity of the compliment and sits up just enough to allow you to pull the shirt over her head and toss it to the floor. Her breathing goes shallow as you toy with the wide straps of the sports bra she’s wearing - you snap one of them against her shoulder and she winces, more so out of surprise than pain. You smirk. 

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” you whisper, bringing your lips to Miranda’s ear and letting your warm breath wash over the side of her neck. Goosebumps form a little trail on her sensitive skin and Miranda nods fervently, her breath catching audibly in her throat. You chuckle condescendingly.

“Good girls use their words, love,” you husk, nipping at Miranda’s earlobe and drawing a shuddering gasp from her chest, her body tensing beneath you. It takes her a moment, but finally Miranda finds her voice and breathes out a soft “yes” that makes your smirk widen.

“Yes, what?” You pull away far enough to look her in the eyes, only to see that hers are squeezed shut. “Look at me,” you command, waiting for Miranda to open her eyes, pleased with the wideness of her inky black pupils. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, I-I’ll be a good girl for you,” Miranda whispers in one breath, her eyes darting hungrily between your own.

“Good.” You run your fingers through her hair, gently scratching her scalp, then suddenly ball your hand into a fist and tug her head back by the hair, baring her neck to you so that you can nip and suck at her pulse point, creating a deep red mark that was sure to bruise. 

Releasing her hair, you start to kiss your way down Miranda’s chest, ridding her of her sports bra with ease so that you can lavish small, supple breasts with kisses. You trace the tip of your tongue around her right nipple, your eyes open so that you can watch each little goosebump erupt in real time. You switch to her left nipple and bestow upon it the same rapt attention, sucking it eagerly between your lips and moaning when Miranda’s hands begin to claw at the fabric of your leggings, when her back arches and pushes her chest against your face.

“God, you’re fucking eager today…” you mumble as your lips nuzzle the skin of her stomach. You inhale deeply through your nose, breathing her in; the mixture of sweat and soap and those base notes that cling to her skin as part of her natural scent. You can’t help but to litter her chest and stomach with bruises - then pull her leggings down and give her inner thighs the same treatment, just so there’s no question who she belongs to.

Pulling down her pants releases the scent of her musk and reveals to you the dark, wet patch at the center of her underwear, and you feel your stomach flip and your own underwear grow uncomfortably wet.

“Such a good girl, letting me mark you like this…” you whisper against her inner thigh, just before you bite down and cause Miranda to cry out, her hands flying to your hair to steady herself.

“P-please,” she gasps out as you soothe your tongue over the bite marks you’ve just left.

“Please what, baby? You want to be fucked?”

Miranda nods fervently, and you smirk against her skin - her thigh twitches against your mouth.

“I think I want to take my time today…” you hum casually, letting your breath ghost over her panties - placing a soft, barely-there kiss to her clothed clit before licking at the seam of her crotch. Miranda whimpers. Tugs at your hair. Rolls her hips against the air. You nuzzle your nose against the wet patch on her underwear, and she gasps, arching her back off the bed, then sinking back down. Tensing and untensing in anticipation.

Once you’ve finally decided that she’s had enough, you hook your fingers beneath the waistband of her underwear and pull it down her legs. You kiss your way back up her legs, starting at her ankles, switching sides, tracing your tongue up her toned calves, licking the back of her knee - she’s ticklish, she squirms - nipping her inner thighs, before finally reaching her cunt and, with gentle kitten licks, lapping up the arousal that’s already dripping out of her and running into the crack of her ass. 

“Mmh… fuck, you taste so damn good…” Your tongue gets more eager, parting her folds and circling her clit, and your pleased moans vibrate against the throbbing bud and send shockwaves through Miranda’s body, to which she responds with moans of her own, loud and unabashed.

You can tell she’s getting close by the way her thighs are trembling against your ears, their hold on your head tightening, her knuckles white against the sheets that she’s holding onto for dear life. You stop just shy of sending her over the edge, your lips leaving her clit in favor of ravishing her blonde curl-covered mound with kisses, and your ears are met with a deep whine as Miranda’s hips buck against you, to no avail.

“What do you need, baby? Hmm?” you husk as you slowly kiss your way back up Miranda’s stomach, between her breasts, well aware that her orgasm is starting to retreat again. You grab one of her breasts, the soft flesh filling up the palm of your hand, and bring your lips to her opposite nipple to kiss it chastely. “Your tits feel amazing…”

Miranda moans again, though it has a whiny, disgruntled edge. “Fuck… please…”

She’s starting to get impatient, her hands leaving the sheets and finding your shirt, clawing at it, trying to push it over your head, and you immediately sit up and scoot back, moving just out of reach and looking down at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Turn around.”

Miranda doesn’t respond right away, staring up at you with wide eyes, her chest heaving and splotched with red, her hair stuck to her forehead as a bead of sweat races down her temple. You stand and grab her hips, giving her a push and flipping her onto her stomach. 

“Ass in the air.”

Miranda complies immediately, shuffling a bit on the bed so that she can bend her knees and bare her ass to you, a fresh wave of arousal glistening between her folds that are perfectly parted for you. Her ass is pale, soft, covered in goosebumps - you caress it tenderly, feeling the flesh beneath your palm, your fingertips. You raise your hand - pause for a moment - smack the right cheek. It jiggles a bit and, when you pull your hand away, there’s a faint red mark.

The harder you hit, the wetter Miranda gets, the louder, more pornographic her moans get, until you’re almost certain her neighbors have been able to commit the obscene sounds to memory.

“If only everyone at the station could see what a slut you are,” you say mockingly, soothing your hand over the pink flesh before drawing it back for another smack. Your words make Miranda’s eyes roll back in her head, her jaw going slack. 

The next spank makes her elbows buckle and she slips forward - you tug your own shirt and sports bra off, then lean over her so that your tits are pressed flush against her back. She shudders and your lips meet the back of her neck, kissing the sweat-slicked skin as your arm snakes around her torso, your fingers slipping through her drenched folds. You slide two fingers into her with ease, the heel of your hand pressing against her clit, and she rolls her hips eagerly, a cry of relief spilling from her lips at finally finding the friction she so desperately needs.

“I love seeing you like this,” you whisper against the back of Miranda’s neck, your own breathing heavy and stuttering. “You’re so goddamn beautiful. So fucking perfect.”

Miranda trembles against you, her hips bucking erratically as she chases her orgasm. As you pump your fingers in and out of her in a steady rhythm, you slowly ease in a third finger - her walls stretch around you, her breath stutters audibly, she whimpers a little.

“Shh…” You nuzzle your nose against the nape of her neck. “Tell me if it’s too much… but I think you can take it…”

Miranda’s thrusts resume their previous rhythm and it becomes clear she doesn’t mind the third finger - in fact, it sends her over the edge moments later, her whole body shuddering and tensing against you, her hips bucking, quivering, a long, deep moan vibrating through the air and drowning out your praises of “good girl” and “that’s it” until her body goes limp against you. 

Her knees give out and you hold her up, lowering her carefully and steadily onto her stomach, then rolling off of her. You scoot up the bed so that you’re resting against the pillows and urge Miranda to join you, winding your arms around her, pulling her cheek against your chest, kissing the crown of her head.

“You did so well for me,” you coo against the top of her head, carding your fingers through her hair. “Thank you for trusting me…” 

You hold her in your arms and brush a strand of hair off her sweaty forehead, kissing it. She curls into you, feeling so small in your arms and looking so content. She smiles and buries her face in your chest with a tired but happy hum. She thanks you and presses her lips to your chest and you chuckle and tighten your grip on her, your heart swelling with affection as you whisper, “I love you, Mir. Let me draw you a bath.” 

Your words are met with a discontented hum and she curls further into you as you chuckle at her reaction. “Can we stay here a few more minutes?” she mumbles - you nod softly and wiggle your hips a bit to get more comfortable on the bed.

“Whatever you want, love.”

Miranda smiles and traces her hand over your hips, giving the waistband of your leggings a meek tug, then clawing weakly at the fabric bunched over your hips. You raise an eyebrow and look down to see a tired half-smirk playing upon Miranda’s lips, and you chuckle and shake your head in amusement. “Whatever you want…”

x

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[darthwhorecrux]

has been so hard to find the time lately, but i COULD NOT ignore my man's birthday. so this is short and was done in a bit of a haste, but i hope my fellow Shinji lovers still enjoy !!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHINJI <3

Shinji never cared much for his birthday. Maybe each passing year would be more meaningful if he were human, but to him, it was just another day, especially when there was no break in his Captain duties, even on the weekend.

When you learned this about him, you were determined to get him to think otherwise. His birthday was special. He was special, and you needed him to know that. Even if it was something small, which seemed to be what he appreciated most, you never let him forget when it was supposed to be his day.

He came in a little after noon, sighing and slinking in, likely in search of something to have for lunch in between time spent with his squad. At the sound of his entrance, you quietly scrambled to gather the large cupcake you baked him, shoving a candle in the center, and lighting it, tip-toeing toward him as you sang, “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…”

As soon as he saw you slowly making your way towards him, the candle illuminating your beautiful face, an affectionate smile spread on his face and a special kind of warmth, reserved only for you, began to blossom in his chest. He let you finish your song, stopping before him with the cake held out. You were smiling so hard it hurt, likely more excited about his day than he was.

“Now make a wish!” You beamed, lifting the cake a little higher.

“I wish…” He began.

You clapped a hand over his mouth. “I’m not supposed to hear it!” You giggled. “It’s for yourself.”

“And what if I have no wishes? Hm?” He teased.

“You have to have something,” you prodded. “You really can’t think of anything you want?”

Shinji shook his head, his sharp eyes softening. “Everything I want is right here.” He grabbed you by the hips, pulling you closer, making the candlelight dance dangerously between your bodies.

“You trying to light us on fire?” You grinned as your face heated at his intimate words.

“Guess I better make that wish so I can blow this thing out,” he chuckled. “Let me see here,” he pretended to look thoughtful, “I wish my baby would kiss me.”

He lowered his head and blew, and through the smoke, you leaned forward, nearly pressing into the icing just to get to him. “Your wish is my command.” You took his lips into yours, kissing him passionately before he was pulling away, grabbing the cupcake from you and setting it aside.

“That was about to get messy, and I don’t want to mess up the pretty cake you made,” he explained with a laugh before leaning in once more, kissing you more fervently this time now that there was no barrier.

You wrapped your arms around each other, getting impossibly closer. You whined into his mouth and tugged on his clothes, knowing that he would be gone again soon and you selfishly wanted him to yourself for the whole day. He seemed to be doing the same, digging his fingers into the plush of your body as if you were going to slip away at any moment, and he had to hold on tight. He pulled back with a frustrated sigh, frowning in annoyance as he thought of the time.

“I should grab some food and head back,” he said apologetically. “Maybe, if I’m not back too late, we can share your cake tonight?” He raised his eyebrows hopefully.

But you were frowning deeply, refusing to accept the circumstances. “Do you really have to go back? You can’t get Momo or one of the others to cover for you?”

“I shouldn’t abandon her like that,” he reasoned, running his hands along your sides and back in an attempt to soothe you.

“But it’s your birthday,” you continued to pout. “And I want to do more than just kiss you…” You tugged on the waistband of his pants for emphasis.

“Yer killing me, sweetheart,” Shinji groaned, squeezing your ass. “Okay, let me call Momo.” He pulled away from you abruptly, as if he didn’t leave now, he never would.

“Okay,” you giggled excitedly, determined to have your way.

He left the room, coming back a few short moments later with a poker face that had you jumping out of your skin. He remained silent and impassive, surely just to get you all worked up for his own amusement.

“Well?!”

“Happy birthday to me,” he grinned smugly. “Momo’s gonna handle things and call me if there’s an emergency. I’m all yours, baby doll.”

“Yes!” You pounced on him, wrapping your arms around his torso and squeezing his slender frame tightly. “I’m so happy! I’ll have to bake a cake for Momo too!”

“Anyways,” his voice dropped an octave as he smirked at you wolfishly, licking his lips. “Ya mentioned wanting to do more than just kiss me?”

“Let me package up your cake again so it stays fresh,” you were smirking now too. “Then I’ll do whatever you want, birthday boy.”

“No better gift,” he practically moaned at the offer.

Shinji never cared much for his birthday.

But thanks to you, he was starting to.

[bangchansgirlsblog]

Keeping up with the Bhangs

This is a one shot from the little series. Read it if you would like it’s on my master list :))

Warning: Angst

Pairing: Bangchan x reader

Summary: Being a mum is hard when you have to constantly play good cop, bad cop.

**

"Chan?" She called for her husband. "Chan come look at what your daughter did!" Y/n called again. The sight infront of her was painful. Her little girl was stood in the middle of the room looking so innocent but she had created a huge train wreck around her. She couldn’t believe it.

She tried to keep her cool, she really did but she couldn’t. She heard the quiet footsteps making their way up towards their daughters room. Her anger was being tested and she felt like she was about to blow.

"What is it Y/n? I have a really important-" he paused when he looked up from his phone as he stared at the sight in front of him. "What the hell?" He let out a gasp.

The room was a mess. There was paint everywhere and crayons all over the wall. The collections of toys chan had gotten Soo-min where spread all over the place and her clothers (Soo-min) was covered in dirt, paint and crayons as she stood there looking innocent with the crayon in her hand. 

"Chan look what your daughter did!" Y/n raised her voice a little causing Soo-min to jump. She took little steps quickly to hide behind her father who was now standing fully in the room. It had been obvious she was scolded before this because her little hands were shaking and her lips were quivering.

Chans eyes soften as he loosened the tie that wrapped around his neck and unbuttoned his shirt. He was determined to keep his wife calm and fix whatever was going on. If he had time of course.

"Hey, Y/n calm down. Don’t stress out baby. Its okay," He picked up his little girl with one hand trying to remove the paint of her face. Her eyes on the verge of tears as she pouted. "We can just get the cleaners to clean it-"

Chan being calm about the whole situation pissed of Y/n to the fullest because why was he so put together? Why was he such a good calm dad.

"Chan! you dont get it! this is not okay, she constantly disobeys, this is a huge mess! i left her for only a few minutes!" Y/n groaned frustrated as she threw the cups she had collected from the ground into a basket. 

"Y/n, its fine. She's a baby-" the glare Y/n gave him instantly made him shut up and look at his little girl that was basically holding onto his shirt for dear life. 

"M' sorry," Soo-min chocked on her sobs as tears started to spill and she Sniffed. She didn’t understand why her mum was being so scary. She only wanted to draw to make her happy cause she knew how sad she had been.

Chans heart melted at her little pout.

"Its okay mama, no need to cry. Daddy's got you," Chan wiped the tears from her cheeks and grabbed the crayon and paint brush from her tiny little hands. "Y/n look what you've done, now she's crying."

"Chan you cant honestly think this is okay-" Y/n was buffled. Chan didn't think this was okay, did he?

"she's a kid! kids make mistakes, she's still learning. You don't scold her, you teach her," His voice was now loud aswell. He was getting frustrated. He didnt want his children growing up in a toxic enviroment where they get yelled at or abused. That was his worst nightmare. 

“Then fine! You raise them if ur such a good teacher,”

“I don’t have time for this Y/n I have a big meeting coming-“

“Of course you fucking do, why don’t you just move into your office and abandon your kids and pregnant wife!”

Her blood was boiling. It was like she was getting everything off her chest and she needed it.

“Y/n that’s enough. Your acting like a child in front of her!” Chan growled. “You can’t even control this situation without calling and crying for me,” his chest was moving up and down as he was huffing. Trying so hard to control himself but he was stressed and tired and it was like she wanted to pick a fight every chance she got.

"Chan! why do you always have to be good cop. Why cant you see this is wrong? Stop being a bad parent and-'

"Bad parent?" He scoffs and looked up at her buffled, "I'm the bad parent? just cause you were abused when you were younger doesn't mean you have to put your trauma on my children..." His eyes go wide. He didn't mean it. He was just angry. He didn't mean any of it. 

The tension in the air wise thick. The shocked gasp that left her mouth was painful. Her head started to spin. Her eyes turning red as her body started to overheat. The emotions she felt were overwhelming. A panic attack was coming on. Her eyes landed on her daughter, the little girl was covering her ears trying to cover her face in her fathers chest. Was she a monster?

"Papa? no fighting," The little girl squealed as she still continued to cover her ears. This made Y/n's heart break. was it true? was she becoming her toxic mother. 

 "It's okay mama," He comforted her shivering body, "I-Im going to get her changed so i can go back to my meeting. I'll tell the maids to come clean up," he so badly wanted to hold his wife and apologize but with the way she stood in one place he knew he couldn't have the conversation, well not right now. 

The door closed behind him as her little girls sniffles slowly faded in the distance. Y/n was in shock. Her brain was taking long to react. Her hands were cold and all of a sudden she couldnt hear anything around her.

Was she the problem? Was she being hard on the kids? she never yelled at any of them unless they did something horrible, she never intended for the father of her kids to call her toxic. To embarrass her like that.

It was too much, she was done playing tough guy. she was tired of the constant fight of depression. She was tired of her husband degrading her as she stayed home while he was out all night partying doing God knows what. 

She wanted her life back. she wanted to be fun again. She didnt want to be tired all the time. She was tired of being pregnant.

Her face felt wet. Her hands automatically covering her eyes. Heart wrenching sobs leaving her body as she placed a hand on her belly. The doubt of being a mother was creeping back up. The sudden urge to run away and dissapear haunted her conscious. Truth is she was tired of the fake smiles and the big parties and important business people.

Yes, she loved the big house her husband built for them, she loved the grand cars and the golden credit cards but she wanted to feel again. She wanted to be loved again. By her husband. She wanted to be a teenager again, falling in love and being young and free.

She laid on the called floor. Her arms supporting the heavy bump she was carrying. The tiled sending shivers down her spine. The tears still spilling from her eyes until eventually she grew tired and fell asleep.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

I'm going to write a yandere x oc fanfic. So it's a bit of a slowburn where they start off as friends. What i'm focusing on rn is the fact that while they're friends, my oc never 'felt' like she cared for him, or at least formed an emotional connection. She lacks empathy and feels guilty for it, but she does her best to fulfill her role as a proper friend out of obligation. She only starts truly caring for him 2 years into the relationship after he communicated that he did care for her.

Sooo I think that she has an avoidant attachment style? So that's basically what I'm asking about, please. Or any idea what other labels you think might apply to her? (They're gonna be co-defendant asf)

Writing Notes: Avoidant Attachment Style

Some signs of an avoidant attachment style can include:

Avoidance of emotional/physical intimacy

Strong sense of independence

Uncomfortable when expressing feelings

Dismissive of others

Sending mixed signals

Hard time trusting

Commitment issues

Often spends more time alone than with others

An unrealistically positive picture of their attachment figures

A failure to build long-term relationships due to the inability to engage physically and emotionally on a deeper level

In a romantic relationship, avoidant individuals may:

Appear distant or emotionally detached

Often avoid deep emotional connections and intimacy

Emphasize boundaries

Use distancing strategies (emotional or physical)

Prioritize independence and self-reliance above emotional intimacy

Need to get away or "explodes" during a disagreement

Not make his/her intentions clear

Devalue their partner

Struggle to express their feelings or offer support to their significant other during times of distress

Suppress emotions and maintain distance in their relationship to avoid vulnerability and potential harm

This can lead to feelings of neglect or emotional abandonment on either side of the relationship.

While they might do well in maintaining boundaries and independence, their hesitance to engage emotionally can undermine the development of deeper relationships.

If your character finds themselves struggling to express their feelings or show physical affection, they may identify with an avoidant attachment style.

On Deciphering Attachment Style:

Determine whether s/he seeks intimacy and closeness.

Assess how preoccupied s/he is with the relationship and how sensitive s/he is to rejection.

Don’t rely on one “symptom,” look for various signs.

Assess his/her reaction to effective communication.

Listen and look for what he or she is not saying or doing.

Common Avoidant Thoughts, Emotions, and Reactions

THOUGHTS

All-or-nothing thinking: I knew s/he wasn’t right for me, this proves it!

Overgeneralizing: I knew I wasn’t made to be in a close relationship.

Malicious intent: S/he’s really out to annoy me, it’s so obvious…

Fantasizing about having sex with other people.

"S/he’s taking over my life, I can’t take it!"

"Now I have to do everything his/her way; the price is too high."

"I need to get out of here, I feel suffocated."

"If s/he was “the one” this kind of thing wouldn’t happen."

"When I was with (phantom X) this wouldn’t have happened."

"S/he just wants to tie me down, this isn’t true love."

"I’ll be better off on my own."

"Ugh, s/he’s so needy! It’s pathetic."

EMOTIONS

Withdrawn ⚜ Frustrated ⚜ Angry ⚜ Pressured ⚜ Distrustful

Unappreciated ⚜ Misunderstood ⚜ Resentful ⚜ Hostile

Aloof ⚜ Empty ⚜ Deceived ⚜ Tense ⚜ Hate-filled ⚜ Restless

Self-righteous ⚜ Contemptuous ⚜ Despairing ⚜ Scornful

ACTIONS

Act out ⚜ Get up and leave ⚜ Belittle their partner

Act hostile, look disdainful ⚜ Make critical remarks

Withdraw mentally or physically ⚜ Minimize physical contact

Keep emotional sharing to a minimum

Stop listening to partner. Ignoring him/her.

POSSIBLE CAUSES

Primary caregivers were emotionally distant or dismissive of the person's needs in childhood. An avoidant individual often then learns to cope by suppressing their emotions and developing self-sufficiency.

Initially it was assumed that adult attachment styles were primarily a product of our upbringing. Thus, it was hypothesized that our current attachment style is determined by the way in which we were cared for as a baby (e.g., if parents/caregivers were distant, rigid, and unresponsive, the child should develop an avoidant attachment style).

Today, however, we know that attachment styles in adulthood are influenced by a variety of factors, one of which is the way our parents cared for us, but other factors also come into play, including our genes and life experiences.

Here are a few tips you can incorporate in your character's storyline to potentially change this style of attachment:

They start with communication (open communication is the foundation of a strong relationship)

Establish boundaries with their partner

Write down their own emotions and feelings throughout the day

Approach their relationship as a team and work together

Sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: On Attachment ⚜ Writing References

From what you described, avoidant attachment sounds about right. But as the writer, you know more about the character, like their backstory. Do you think they fit this attachment style? A good reminder when we use these psychological models: Attachment theorists assume that the relationship between early experiences and subsequent outcomes is probabilistic, NOT deterministic. Use these notes as one reference/guide as you develop your characters. Hope this helps with your writing!

[strvlveera]

You Got Everything You Wanted

Part 1 / Part 2

italics is start of flashback.

Another airplane was getting ready for take off, the cloudless blue sky was vivid against the wide panels of glass; the airport filled with the bustling minds of passengers waiting for their own flight.

You, waiting for something else. Someone else.

Seeing the airplane fly off into the distance into the clouds camouflaging itself, reminded you of an event three years ago.

Your last fight with Tooru. And your last encounter.

With him announcing his sudden departure to Argentina.

——

“Why are you telling me this all of a sudden? W-was it because of yesterday?” You frantically questioned, feeling pathetic watching him load his suitcase up.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while and I already bought my ticket. It’s for tomorrow morning.” He continued packing as if it was one simple holiday.

“Tomorrow? Tooru, that's our anniversary.”

“Who gives a fuck [y/n]. Can’t you see our relationship is in shambles? I fucking cheated on you and you still came back. When will you take the hint that it’s over? We’re over.” He looked at you fed up, with pity in his eyes.

“So you’re just going to throw away the last - what, five years of our lives? Really? The Tooru I know wouldn’t do that to me.”

“He’s gone [y/n]!” He rises to his feet. “Can you not grasp that?”

“No I can’t Tooru! I can’t when all I see in front me is the boy I fell in love with. The boy who was there when I needed him most. And now he’s abandoning me for no apparent reason.” You sobbed, frustrated tears stinging your eyes.

“You’ve changed so much in the past year that I can’t let you go without you explaining to me what the hell is going on with you!” You pleaded.

“Just give me one simple explanation. Then I'll let you go. Then I’ll give up.”

Sensing your sense of defeat, something shifted in Tooru. He was used to you being stubborn. Having the strong sense of determination to power your way through arguments. Maybe his facade was wearing off seeing you crumble like a porcelain doll.

“I had an offer last year for a position to be setter for a club in Argentina. And I accepted.” He glimpsed back up to you, betrayal written all over your face.

“I-I was going to tell you I swear! But seeing you flourish at your new promotion, and your plans for our future life in Japan, I just couldn’t tell you.”

“Tooru…”

“I couldn’t tell you knowing all of this. And knowing that if I told you, you’d have to give it all up; all that you built and all that you lived for. But I also couldn’t leave with you still loving me. I just couldn’t.” He paused, coughing his tears back.

“The thought of us being apart with thousands of miles between us killed me and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to fathom it. That’s why I cheated. And I really thought that was the last straw for me. That you’d finally given up and seen the worst parts of me.” He explained, pouring out everything from his heart that he’d wish he said earlier but couldn’t.

Silence filled the apartment once again until a hiccup reached Tooru's ears. He glanced up to you only to be met with a sobbing mess in front of him. It sounded like agony. You stumble up to him, weakly punching his chest as the salty tears bleed through his shirt.

“Y-you fucking idiot Tooru! You can’t just decide that all on your own. You can’t just decide for me!” You exclaim between rigged breaths.

“I can learn the language! I-I can find another job and we can build a new life there together! Just don’t leave me here, Tooru. Please. I can’t be alone again. “ You looked up at him with blurry eyes, pain evidently searing through veins, clenching your fists against his chest.

Tooru feared this reaction. The worst outcome for him. He was vulnerable to you. He knew that if he saw you like this he’d be tempted to stay, and he was. But, his career was on the line. He had to be selfish.

“Get off me [y/n].” Taking all the hits from you. He couldn’t look down at you.

He shoved you off of him, your body falling to the cold floor.

Weakly, you tried to reach out for him. “Don’t go, don't go, don’t go, please Tooru!”

The jingle of the keys and the creek of the front door opening sealed the new life plan Tooru had. One without you. You stared in horror at Tooru’s figure standing at the open door. Guilt evident on his face.

“I never stopped loving you [y/n].”

“Tooru…”

“Goodbye, my love.” The slam of the door indicating his departure.

Maybe, you were hallucinating, and maybe you were only trying to comfort yourself, but you swore to yourself that he had one small tear fall onto his cheek. The cheek you were supposed to kiss goodbye to.

———

“[y/n]!”

The sound of your name being called out to you in the busy airport transported you back into the present. Startled, you look to see where the sound of your name came from, only to see a tall figure running towards you.

“Sorry I took so long, the plane had turbulence issues and- wait are you okay? Why are you crying?” He let go of his suitcase, gently holding your face in his hands, analysing your face with concern.

You laugh whilst wiping away your warm tears from your eyes.

“I’m fine Tobio, just remembered something,” you reassured.

“Must’ve been sad to make you cry out of nowhere,” he said concerned, raising an eyebrow.

“I swear I'm fine! Besides, how can I be upset when you had an urgent meeting,” you reached out for a hug from him. Tobio quickly hugging you back, relaxing himself onto you.

“I wouldn’t miss our anniversary and you know that.” He smiled fondly at you.

“I’m just so relieved to see you in one piece. This week was so stressful at work and clients not cooperating,” you rambled.

“Anyways! Happy anniversary, Tobio,” you grin up at him.

“Happy anniversary [n/n] .You’re everything that I could ever want, except for volleyball of course,” he slyly commented.

“Why you…” you grumbled, sarcastically rolling your eyes at him.

All he did was chuckle to himself, proud of his little joke.

“Remember who got you the opportunity to go on an airplane in business class!”

“I still can’t believe you won us a holiday here at the raffle party,”

“I’m just one lucky girl, what can I say?” you boasted, implying a certain someone made you lucky.

“Okay, okay i’m sorry. Shall we go?” He asked, ready for the eventful night to unfold.

“Yeah, we should,” you agreed, kissing him on the cheek.

The warm outside air and the lively night market marked the beginning of your memorable week. Here, together, in Argentina.

[natailiatulls07]

Lando Norris x Female!reader

Summary - She's a workaholic, he just wants to help but she won't listen

Warning - Reader working herself raw, angst but fluff ending

A/n - I'm trying to answer all your requests, I promise, but I've been struggling alot with my mental health and college recently so please be patient 🫶🏻

-

She was at it again. Every once in a while Y/n would work herself to the bone with her work, her fitness, etc. Every time there was a routine to it - An unhealthy and tiring routine. It was just something she’d do and no one knew how to pull her out of that routine. Well one person did and over time he learnt how to pull her out of it - Her own best friend.

Each time he’d collected her up into his arms, away from her desk and through the hall to her plush and abandoned couch. Lando would wrap himself around her, shielding her from the world and he would help her relax. That man was her safe space. Every single time.

-

“I hate when you do this to yourself” He mumbles. His green eyes flicker down to her, seeing her shoulder so tense pains him really. 

A small and sarcastic chuckle escapes her lips. They had this conversation before and it’s becoming repetitive now - maybe she should listen to him sometime soon. “Mmh I know” Y/n mumbles into his firm chest, she can feel his calloused hand stroking her hair. The formula one driver lets out a heavy sigh, much like the female on his chest he also knows the common conversation between the two. 

A frown tugs on the ends of her lips as Y/n pulls her head away from his chest. “I need to get back to work…” She mumbles, actively avoiding eye contact and moving to stand up from her couch. 

Immediately Lando can see how tense and rigid she is again - It was hard not to notice it. “No no, you need rest” He urges, his British accent is soft and worried. “You’re wearing yourself out, Y/n. Please just listen to me, I don’t want to see you hurt” Although it felt like he was controlling her, the man just really didn’t like seeing like this. 

Shaking her head rapidly, Y/n struggled to tug her hands away from his. Having taken her hands in his, Lando did this to slow her and to calm her. “Lando please, I need to work…” It was getting heated now. 

There was a look of concern behind his eyes. “Y/n, you need to rest.” He wasn’t about to let her walk right back into her death. “You are not going to work. All you’ve done is work yourself to the ground. Y/n do you even hear me right now?”

“No! It’s okay Lando…” She’s pleading with him now - not understanding the damage she was doing to herself.

Lando continues to grip onto her wrists, he was determined to get his best friend to take a deserved break. “Y/n, it’s far from okay!” His voice held conviction. “A break is what you need, this cycle you’ve put your body through will eventually lead you to breaking down and we both know that it’s unhealthy!” Unknowingly tears began to form in the white of his eyes the more she resisted. 

“Get out.” Silence followed the two words. Never did they fight nor did Y/n ever raise her voice. “You need to get out of my apartment. Now.” There’s no room for discussion.

His jaw falls and he’s in total shock. “What?” The driver breathes out. The grip on Y/n’s wrists loosens and falls. Having been nothing but supportive and kind, he felt betrayed. And then he shook his head - completely refusing to leave even when practically ordered to.

“You need to get out of my apartment. Get out now!” There’s venom behind her voice as she shouts.

“No!” The two are in a shouting match by now. Lando could feel his frustration boiling and his temper becoming untethered. “I’m not leaving you like this. You need to see that rest is needed. You’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t” His fists clenched. All the formula one driver wanted to do was to help - not hurt her. 

Y/n sighs, realising that he won’t listen to her. “Fine. You can stay but don’t think you can stop me from working…” She narrows her eyes, pointing a finger towards the British man opposite her. “Unlike you, Lando Norris, some of us have to work our ass’ off every single day to just live!” 

Maybe she was right, maybe he was being selfish. But Y/n was killing herself with every coming day, anyone could see it. All Lando could do was sigh and nod his head. At least she was allowing him to stay, this way he could help. 

“Thank you…”

-

It had been two hours since Lando had seen Y/n. She had left him to settle herself in her office, back to the non stop typing. He was getting anxious and worried now.

Pausing the film he was watching, the driver moved from the couch and down the bright hall to her office. Listening from outside, he hadn’t heard anything. And when he slowly opened the door, there she was asleep. 

She looked so peaceful and relaxed. The corners of Landos lips curved into a smile. He really did love her and to see her finally at ease made him happy.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed…” He whispered, wrapping his arms around her before picking her up and carrying her to bed. Lando made his way out of the office and down the hall again to her bedroom.

As he was trying to open the door, Y/n started to stir. “Lando…?” Her voice filled with confusion and tiredness. Opening her eyes, the woman looked up at him to see his growing goatee and loveable smile. 

“Shh…go back to sleep sweetheart…” His voice was soft and gentle. Y/n felt like a princess right now as she slowly closed her eyes and fell back into a delicate slumber. “I love you so much…” Lando whispered as he lowered her down onto the plush bed - she didn’t hear him, he could only wish she did.

-

[lacydollette]

TEAMING UP ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

pairing: exbf!dean x huntress!reader

warnings: heavy tension, mention of guns, dean being cocky, explicit language, lowkey a lil angsty, maybe fluff (?)

Dean moved carefully through the forest, keeping his steps light, always on high alert for any signs of the werewolf pack they were hunting. The brothers had tracked the attacks to this abandoned barn in the middle of nowhere. It was the perfect hideout—isolated, hidden deep in the woods, far enough from any town that no one would hear the screams. His grip tightened on the silver knife in his hand, they were close now.

He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Sam wasn't too far behind. They had split up to cover more ground, but something about this hunt felt off. He couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't the only ones out here tonight.

That feeling was confirmed when he heard the faint rustle in the bushes ahead. Instinctively, Dean tensed, his body ready for a fight as he inched closer to the noise. He barely had time to react before something lunged at him, slamming him back against a tree with a force that knocked the breath from his lungs.

Before he could get a grip on what was happening, he felt cold steel press into his chest, and a fierce hand gripping his throat. Whoever had him pinned was strong and definitely a combat master. And as his eyes adjusted to the shadows, he recognized the face glaring up at him.

"y/n?"

His voice came out rough, startled. It had been years since he'd seen you—his ex, the one who'd walked out of his life after you’d both decided your worlds were too dangerous to pull love and feelings into the mix. The one who never left his mind, no matter how much time passed.

You blinked, shock flashing in your eyes before it hardened into something more familiar. You stepped back, releasing him, but the gun stayed firmly in your grip, aimed at him as you spoke. "What the hell are you doing here, Dean?"

Of all people to run into on this hunt, it had to be him. It was like the universe was playing some kind of sick joke on you. You hadn't seen Dean in years, not since you both decided to go separate ways. Too much baggage, too much history. You had moved on. At least, that's what you kept telling yourself.

He rubbed his neck, a small smirk tugging at his lips despite the fact that you had nearly taken him out. "Nice to see you too, y/n. Still got that charming bedside manner, huh?"

Your eyes were cold, all business, just like you had been when you first met on a hunt years ago. You hadn't changed much—still fierce, still sharp, still... fucking beautiful. The moonlight highlighted the determination on your face, and for a second, Dean almost forgot where you two were.

"I nearly shot you," you said frustrated, trying to get rid of the thought of almost killing your ex boyfriend. Dean shrugged, his smirk fading as he let out a breath. "Wouldn't be the first time."

Your jaw clenched, and he could see the wheels turning in your head. He didn't know whether you were more annoyed that he was here or that he'd caught you off guard. Definitely both.

"This is my hunt," you snapped, eyes narrowing at him. "I've been tracking this pack for weeks.", "Yeah, well, so have we," Dean replied, meeting your glare. "Sam and I are here to take them out. Same mission, different day."

Your eyes flashed with anger, and for a second, Dean thought you might shove him back against the tree again. You had always been like this—stubborn, independent, never one to back down. It was one of the things that had drawn him to you in the first place, even if it was also the reason you couldn't make it work. You were too much alike, both hunters, both living lives that didn't leave room for anything or anyone else.

You stepped back, shaking your head. "I don't need your help, Dean. I've got this." Dean crossed his arms, his expression serious now. "Really? You're gonna take on a whole werewolf pack by yourself?"

You glared at him, and he could tell you weren’t in the mood for his questions. But he wasn't about to let you get yourself killed, even if you wanted to do this alone. There were too many of them—he and Sam had already counted at least five, maybe more, and even someone as tough as you couldn't take on that many without backup.

"Look," he said, trying to keep his voice calm, "I know you don't want me here, but we're on the same hunt. Let's take these bastards out together, and then you can go back to pretending I don't exist."

You scoffed, your grip tightening on your gun while you rolled your eyes at him. You didn't need anyone else. You had always worked best alone, and you weren’t about to let anything—or anyone—get in your way. Dean's temper flared for a second, but he held it back. "Look, I'm here to finish the job. That’s it.”

You both stood there, staring each other down, the tension between you thick. It was the same as it had always been, that push and pull that had kept you together—and tore you apart in the end. Eventually you gave in, at least it would be quicker this way, right?

Dean couldn't stop himself from watching you as you approached the barn. You moved like a shadow, silent and sharp, every step calculated, your eyes scanning the area like a hawk. You were damn good—one of the best hunters he knew. But that didn't make him worry any less. The werewolf pack all of you were up against wasn't just dangerous—it was reckless, and there were too many variables that could go wrong. Dean knew that better than anyone.

You had always been independent, always insisted on doing things your way, and normally, Dean respected that. Hell, he admired it. Yet he couldn't shake the knot of worry tightening in his chest.

It felt like old times, like you were slipping back into the partnership you used to have, it was like no time had passed at all. You still got under his skin, still made his heart race in ways he didn't want to admit. And as much as he tried to focus on the hunt, on the job, he couldn't ignore the pull he still felt toward you.

There was unfinished business between you two—there always had been. And deep down, Dean knew that no matter how hard he tried to move on, some part of him would always be tied to you. You weren’t just part of his past. You were part of who he was, whether he liked it or not and he had to keep you safe.

Dean glanced over at you, his jaw tight. "Get behind me." You shot him a look, the fire in your eyes flickering to life. "I don't need you to babysit me, Dean. I've got this." He gritted his teeth, trying to keep his voice steady, but the frustration was bubbling up inside him. "I'm not babysitting you. I just don't want you to get yourself killed." You stopped in your tracks and turned to face him. "You don't think I can handle it?"

"That's not what I'm saying," Dean growled, stepping closer. "I know you can handle it, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna stand here and watch you get torn apart." Your eyes flared with anger. "I don't need your protection."

“y/n I just want yo-“ he started, wanting to explain himself, yet you couldn’t help the frustration growing inside you. You always hated when he got too protective. For some it may seem caring and sweet, which it definitely was, but it made you feel weak, like Dean didn’t trust you. So before he could finish his sentence, you turned on him, shoving him hard against the nearest tree. He stumbled back, surprised, but he didn't resist.

Your arm was pressed against his chest, face just inches apart. "I've been doing this a long time," you hissed, voice low and dangerous. "I don't need you swooping in like some knight in shining armor. I'm not the damsel here, Dean." His lips curved into a smirk, the familiar cocky grin he knew would rile you up even more. "Never said you were, sweetheart. But if you wanted to get rough, all you had to do was ask."

Your eyes narrowed, he was so annoyingly attractive like this. Dean could feel the heat between the two of you rising, the space between you growing smaller, charged with a tension that had been brewing for years. You were still pressed against him, body close enough that he could feel the warmth of you against his chest.

"Don't start with me, Dean," you warned, but your voice had softened, just a fraction. Dean leaned in slightly, his grin still in place. "Who's starting? I'm just trying to be helpful."

You faltered for a split second, and Dean saw it—the brief flash of confusion in your eyes, the way your breath caught in your throat. You felt your pulse quicken, not from the argument, but from the way he was looking at you. That look—the one that always tore down your walls, no matter how hard you fought to keep them up. You hated that about him. Hated how, despite everything that had happened between you, despite how far you had come on your own, he still had this hold over you.

Your grip on his shirt loosened just enough that he could feel the tension in you melting away, little by little. For a moment, you stood there, locked in place, the world around you already forgotten. Dean's eyes flicked down to your lips, and for a split second, he wondered if maybe—just maybe—they could pick up where you two left off, despite everything that had happened.

His eyes pierced yours as you tried to remind yourself of the reasons the two of you didn't work, the reasons you had left. Dean was trouble. He was chaos. But when his eyes had flicked to your lips, every rational thought disappeared. It was like all those years apart hadn't changed anything. You still wanted him, still felt that magnetic pull whenever you two were close like this.

Your breath hitched, and you leaned in, your lips barely an inch from his. The heat between you was undeniable now, thick and electric, pulling both of you closer. Dean could feel his heart pounding in his chest, everything else fading into the background. It was just you and him, like it always had been. But just as you were about to cross that line, a voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Uh, Dean?"

You two immediately jerked apart, snapping back to reality as Sam emerged from the shadows, his face a mix of shock and confusion. His eyes darted between you two, lingering on your form, and the look on his face said it all—he hadn't expected to see you, not after all these years.

"y/n?" Sam's voice was thick with surprise, his brows raised. "What are you doing here?" You quickly pulled yourself together, straightening your stance as you brushed off the tension that had almost swallowed you whole. "Just... hunting," you said coolly, but your voice wavered just enough that you could tell Dean noticed.

Dean cleared his throat, trying to shake off the heat still coursing through him. He shot a quick glance at you, walls back up in an instant. You kept your face neutral, but inside, you were cursing yourself for almost letting it happen. You had almost kissed him. After everything, after all the time you spent trying to move on, you had almost let yourself fall back into Dean’s orbit.

Sam's eyes flicked to his brother, and Dean could see the question there, unspoken but loud. He didn't have an answer for him—not right now. All he knew was that something between you and him had shifted, and no matter how hard you both tried to deny it, you couldn't go back to pretending like nothing had happened.

Not after this.

links: dean winchester masterlist

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