#remember to eat properly if you can guys ^^

[johnmalevolent]

Barang siapa yang besar maka itu adalah ... barangnya gintoki (hatinya ..

[kbwrites]

Heated Waters

synopsis: being married is hard, being married without seeing each other is even harder.

⚝ content: Hiromi Higuruma x F! Reader, nsfw, bathtub sex, fingering, Hiromi neglects his wife, but boy does he make up for it

⚝ wc: 1.9k

“Yeah we do it pretty much every day.”

Satoru said, taking a leisurely sip of his water. His pale face alight with mischief, a shit-eating grin across his lips. His three coworkers stared at him in (jealousy) disbelief.

Suguru was the first to break the silence, wanting to save face “Everyday is a bit much, isn’t it, Satoru?”

Satoru chuckled, his blue eyes glinting with amusement as he watched his friend squirm. "What about you guys? How often do our married friends get it in?" His gaze flickered to Nanami, who cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, his eyes fixed on the steam rising from his coffee cup.

“Twice a week, I suppose…”

Satoru's smile widened, clearly entertained by the responses he was drawing out. He then turned his attention to the oldest among them, Hiromi Higuruma, who was carefully straightening his tie, a subtle attempt to avoid eye contact.

“What about you, Higuruma?”

“Your wife, (Y/N) is a little younger than you, right? C’mon Higuruma-San…She a total freak?” Satoru teased.

Hiromi's jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation crossing his features as his grip on his coffee cup tightened. He took a slow, measured breath, his voice strained but controlled when he finally spoke.

“Please don’t talk about my wife like that.”

But Satoru, ever the instigator, didn’t back down. “It’s just us guys riiggght? And I can’t lie Higuruma, you’re one lucky guy. (Y/N) is a catch.”

Nanami nodded in agreement, as did Suguru, though both seemed to sense the discomfort growing in Hiromi. The older man could only sigh, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the conversation.

It was true—you were everything he could have ever wanted in a partner. Beautiful, intelligent, kind-hearted—his perfect match. If heaven existed, Hiromi was certain you’d be the only one worthy of it.

But long nights in the office, and early mornings preparing for court would take a toll on any relationship. The truth was… Hiromi hadn’t touched you in over a month. By the time he came home—you were fast asleep, and weekends were spent running the mountain of errands you couldn’t get to during the week. You loved each other of course, but it was hard. A month without feeling the warmth of your husband's hands all over your skin was starting to weigh heavily on both of you.

“You don’t have to answer Higuruma-san..” Nanami chimed in, sensing his elder colleague’s discomfort.

“Over a month.” Hiromi exhaled, the truth slipping out before he could stop it.

The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

“WHAT?” Gojo audibly gasps. “Your wife looks like THAT and you haven’t f—”

Suguru swiftly cut him off with a well-placed elbow to the chest. “Satoru… leave Higuruma alone.” The long-haired male warns. “Still, that is surprising.”

“I know I know..” Higuruma pinches his bridge. He wanted nothing more than to have his wife under him… on top of him. But the endless stream of work kept him trapped in a cycle of exhaustion. “I’ve been so busy I can’t even remember the last time I actually spoke to her properly.”

Suguru offered an apologetic smile. “Sounds like you need a break.”

“Sounds like you need some puss—” Nanami quickly elbowed Satoru in the chest before he could finish his sentence.

Hiromi shook his head, letting out a dry chuckle as he ran a hand through his dark locks, clearly frustrated with himself. “I appreciate your concern, guys, but I don’t see how I can take a break right now. I have so much work to do, and I’m the only one who knows how to handle all of it.”

“Higuruma-San. Satoru will take care of the paperwork for you.” Nanami suggested with a deadpan expression.

“HUH?” Satoru blurted out, clearly caught off guard by the sudden assignment.

“Yeah,” Nanami continued, ignoring Satoru’s protest. “It’s not like he actually does any work around here anyway.”

Suguru smirked, nodding in agreement. “That’s true. You might as well make yourself useful, Satoru.”

Before Hiromi could protest, the trio moved in unison—Suguru grabbing Hiromi’s briefcase, Nanami steering him toward the door, and Satoru sighing dramatically as he resigned himself to the task.

“Are… are you boys sure about this? I don’t want to burden you–”

“Nonsense! Go home and take care of your wife!”

Hiromi placed his briefcase by the door, his tie feeling suddenly too tight around his neck. He loosened it with a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he glanced around. The familiar scent of home greeted him. It was comforting yet bittersweet, a reminder of all the moments he had missed. The living room was tidy, the soft hum of the dishwasher running in the kitchen. You had clearly been busy, taking care of the house as you always did, even when he wasn’t around.

“Honey?” Hiromi calls out to you, his voice echoing slightly in the stillness.

Frowning, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair before making his way down the hall. As he approached the bathroom, he noticed a faint light seeping out from under the door, accompanied by the sound of water gently lapping against the tub.

He hesitated for a moment, then slowly opened the door.

The sight that greeted him made his breath catch in his throat. There you were, reclining in the bathtub, your eyes closed, head resting on the edge as steam rose around you. The soft glow of candles illuminated the room, casting a warm, serene light over your features.

You looked so peaceful, so beautiful—that it almost hurt to look at you. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he took in the sight, but the guilt and longing only deepened. How long had it been since he’d taken the time to appreciate you like this? Since he’d been able to just… be with you?

You opened your eyes, gaze meeting your husband as he leaned against the door frame.

“Hiromi?” you murmured, your voice soft, almost questioning, as if unsure whether he was really there or just a figment of your imagination.

“Hey Honey…” his voice equally soft, as he took a tentative step closer. The warmth of the room seemed to wrap around him, melting away some of the day’s stress.

“You’re home early.” You muse, looking at him as you rested your arms on the tub. He doesn’t respond, just walks towards you with purposeful steps.

Hiromi stares down at you with half-lidded eyes.“The guys decided I need a break.” He paused, his breath hitching slightly as he continued, “Can I join you?” A playful smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

“Only if you take off your clothes this time.”

A dry chuckle escaped his lips as he unbuttons his dress shirt, letting each article of clothing fall to the tile floor. As he finally sheds his boxers before settling behind you. You exhaled softly, the tension you’d been holding onto for weeks dissipating as you sank into your husband’s embrace.

Hiromi didn’t waste a moment, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck, placing lazy, lingering kisses along the curve where your shoulder met your throat. His breath was warm against your skin, his kisses slow and unhurried, as if savoring every second, every inch of you.

His hands weren’t idle either, tracing gentle patterns along your stomach, moving upwards to cup your breasts with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. He nipped lightly at your earlobe, his voice a husky murmur, “I’ve missed you… more than you know.”

“Missed you too ‘Romi..” Your voice trembling as the almost foreign heat began to pool in your core.

Deft fingers teased your nipples, rolling and pinching—eliciting a soft moan from your lips as your body arched into his touch. Your hand reached back, tangling in his dark locks, pulling him closer as his lips traveled down to your shoulder, his other hand snaking under the water to your aching cunt.

“ahhhh… s-shitt..” You cry out as Hiromi’s fingers slowly circle your swollen bud. His touch light, teasing.

“Thirty-two days… I’m so sorry m’love.” He mumbles into your shoulder as he slips a slender digit into your entrance. Your walls flutter immediately around the intrusion, as he gently pumped into you.

He adds another finger, curling up to the spot he had neglected all those weeks. He extended his thumb to rub your clit. You arch your back against him, feeling his cock twitch against your ass.

“Hiro…” you moan, reaching behind for him, but he bites down lightly on your shoulder.

“Not yet, pretty girl, want you t’cum first okay?”

He whispers as he feels your gummy walls clench around him.

He speeds up his ministrations, digits stuffing your cunt as your pussy throbs and squelches. Your whimpers echo around the tiled walls, water lapping around your bodies.

You feel the pressure building as each thrust of his long fingers brush against your g-spot.

“g-gonna cum!”

“Cum f’me sweetheart please—god… need it so bad.” Hiromi mumbles as he pumps even faster.

“a-ahh!” you cry as you reach your high, walls clenching as you cum on your husband’s hand. He removes his fingers from you, moving to gently circle your clit as you come down from your orgasm.

You both stay there for a moment, your heavy breathing the only sound occupying the space, mingling with the gentle slosh of water against the porcelain tub. Hiromi’s arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you closer.

Slowly, he lifted you, the warm water swirling around you both as he maneuvered you to face him, settling you on his lap. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your knees pressing against the cool sides of the tub.

You straddled Hiromi, your bodies now fully aligned, chest to chest. Your husband's dark, half-lidded eyes bore into yours, his expression a mixture of raw need and unspoken tenderness. He let his hands rest on your waist for a moment, thumbs tracing gentle circles against your damp skin as he took in the sight of you.

“I don’t know how I’ve stayed away from you for so long…” his voice breaking slightly as if the admission pained him.

Your breath hitched as you shifted slightly in his lap, feeling the tension between you intensify. Hiromi’s hands slid up your sides, his touch deliberate and slow, leaving a trail of heat in their wake as his lips finally found yours. The kiss was deep, full of hunger that had been simmering between you both for far too long.

His grip on your waist tightened as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance that left you dizzy with need.

Breaking the kiss, Hiromi leaned his forehead against yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

“I won’t make that mistake again.”

Without a word, he rose from the tub, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. Water cascaded down your bodies, pooling at your feet as he carried you toward the bedroom, his lips trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck.

He laid you gently onto the bed, your back sinking into the soft silken sheets, but Hiromi didn’t waste any time. His gaze darkening as he climbed over you, his body hovering just above yours, his eyes drinking you in like a man starved.

“I’m going to make up for every second I’ve missed.”

[harrysfolklore]

grid dad - mv1

summary: max decides accidentally adopts the 2025 rookies and his life becomes chaos

folkie radio: HERE IT IS!! i thought it was super late to post this but you guys wanted it so i finished it! i hope you like it

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by maxverstappen1, olliebearman and 198,635 others

yourinstagram hosted our rookie dinner tonight because someone had to adopt these kids before the season starts 😂 @/maxverstappen1 trying to teach them the racing line around our dinner table while I'm just making sure they're all fed properly. good luck this season boys! ❤️

tagged: maxverstappen1, olliebearman, isackhadjar, kimi.antonelli, gabrielbortoleto_, jackdoohan

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username1 OMFG THIS ???

username2 max casually having all the kids over help me

maxverstappen1 They're already asking when they can come back for dinner 🤦‍♂️

username3 MY HEART 😭 mama yn and papa max adopting all the rookies i can't

username4 the way he's actually becoming the dad of the grid at 27 💀

username5 max going from youngest driver to grid dad is the character development we love to see

kimi.antonelli best pasta i've ever had outside of italy!! grazie mille

lando this is so unfair, where was my rookie dinner in 2019??

username6 STOP this is the wholesomeness we needed before melbourne 🥹

username7 giving me flashbacks to when seb used to adopt the younger drivers

isackhadjar thanks racing mum and dad 😌🏎️

jackdoohan catch me sneaking back in for leftovers tomorrow 👀

alex_albon @/georgerussell63 remember when we just got a RedBull and good luck text?

username8 NOT THE 2019 ROOKIES GETTING JEALOUS

username9 max really just adopted them all ??? hello!!

olliebearman thank you for everything! ready for the season now 💪

gabrielbortoleto_ such an amazing evening! grateful for the advice and the food was 🔥

username10 THE 2025 ROOKIES ARE SO LOVED

f1 The Class of 2025 getting the VIP treatment 🤩

liked by username1, username2 and 15,037 others

f1updates Max Verstappen reveals the 2025 rookies have become regular visitors at his home after his girlfriend invited them for a pre-season dinner

"Yeah, it's quite funny actually. My girlfriend invited them all over and now they just keep showing up. Antonelli's always asking for her pasta recipe, Bearman raids our fridge like it's his own house... Doohan's basically moved into our guest room at this point."

"It's nice though, they're good kids. They ask a lot of questions about racing, but mostly we just hang out. YN loves it, she's always making sure they're eating properly and stuff. I think she'll be screenshotting their race results like a proud mom"

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username1 NOT MAX BECOMING A GRID DAD AT 27

username2 the way he pretends to be annoyed but we know he loves it 🥺

username3 ollie living his best life raiding their fridge i'm crying

username3 kimi antonelli getting that family support AND pasta recipes? unstoppable

username4 max and yn collecting f1 children like pokemon and we're here for it

username5 the way he's actually proud of them 🥺 dad max era

username6 most unexpected wholesome f1 moment of 2025 already

username7 remember when max was the youngest driver? now look at him being grid dad

username8 WHY IS THIS SO CUTE LIKE THOSE ARE HIS KIDS

username9 i just know yn will be cheering for them at every race like a proud mom

username10 WHAT IF I CRY RN

liked by yourinstagram, jackdoohan and 1,094,483 others

maxverstappen1 Ready for Melbourne. Had a good winter break

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username1 2025 WDC ALREADY

kimi.antonelli thanks for the setup tips dad 😎

yourinstagram our kids are so talented 🥹

username2 HELP THE ROOKIES JUST INVADED THEIR HOUSE AND NEVER LEFT 😭

username3 not antonelli calling him dad i'm deceased

olliebearman fifa rematch when we're back? still saying you cheated

jackdoohan THANKS MUM AND DAD

isackhadjar best preseason prep ever 🙌

username4 the way this isn't even weird anymore, just max and his 5 adopted children

gabrielbortoleto_ those pancakes changed my life ngl

lando this is getting ridiculous, i'm moving in too

username5 yn collecting f1 sons every time max turns his back

username6 THIS IS THE WHOLESOME CONTENT WE DESERVE

username7 horner somewhere punching the air watching max parent the entire rookie class

username8 LANDO IS STILL COMPLAINING HELP

username9 the fifa tournaments at their house must be INTENSE

username10 THOSE ARE MAX'S SONS

username11 he really posted a picture with his girlfriend and pictures of their grid kids 😭 IM YELLING

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liked by maxverstappen1, lilymhe and 202,483 others

yourinstagram race day! good luck to my boyfriend and our... five adopted children 😂 still wondering how this happened but wouldn't have it any other way. make mama proud boys! ❤️ @/maxverstappen1 @/kimi.antonelli @/olliebearman @/jackdoohan @/isackhadjar @/gabrielbortoleto_

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username1 IM CRYING THOSE ARE THEIR CHILDREN

username2 the ducklings !!!

maxverstappen1 They're asking if we can have pizza night after the race 🤦‍♂️

kimi.antonelli grazie racing mom!

olliebearman promise not to crash dad's car 😇

jackdoohan home race AND family support, let's go!

isackhadjar thanks mom 🥹

gabrielbortoleto_ best racing parents ever ❤️

lando petition to be adopted too?

username3 NOT THEM ACTUALLY CALLING THEM MOM AND DAD NOW

username4 the way this started as a dinner and ended with 5 new family members

username5 ollie promising not to crash "dad's" car HELP ME 💀

username6 yn really said "i have 5 children now"

username7 mercedes wondering why their rookie keeps disappearing to verstappen family dinners

username8 the most wholesome timeline we never knew we needed

username9 verstappen family collection: ✅ max ✅ yn ✅ 5 rookies ✅ probably lando soon

username10 imagine telling someone in 2015 that rookie max would become f1's dad

liked by username1, username2 and 4,985 others

f1shitpost MAX'S FACE WHEN THEY TOOK KIMI. THAT'S HIS SON

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username1 the way max's face went 😦 -> 😳 -> 🥺

username2 they're interrupting their father-son time

username3 HEEEEEEELP THIS IS TOO FUNNY

username4 mercedes pr trying to prevent the adoption papers from being signed

username5 the way he immediately went to isack after this

username6 help why is this the most wholesome thing ever 😭

username7 the other rookies watching like "one of us, one of us"

username8 YN IS PROBABLY YELLING AT THIS

username9 he's taking the dad role way too seriously

username10 THATS A FATHER

liked by maxverstappen1, yourinstagram and 498,055 others

isackhadjar Not the way I wanted my first F1 race to go... but that's racing sometimes. Learning from it and moving forward. Thanks Max & YN for the emergency comfort dinner and pep talk (the cake was fire). Having the best support system helps a lot ❤️ On to the next one!

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username1 STOOOOOP THIS IS SO SWEET

username2 mom and dad to the rescue

yourinstagram always here for you sweetie! you'll come back stronger next weekend

maxverstappen1 Good weekend until the issue. We'll look at the data tomorrow 💪

kimi.antonelli next one will be better bro!

olliebearman you did great mate! also yn's cake fixes everything trust me

lando this family thing is getting out of hand... (yn can i have cake too?)

username3 NOT THE COMFORT DINNER FROM RACING PARENTS 😭

username4 yn really said "my son dnf'd? emergency cake needed"

username5 YN CALLING HIM SWEETIE AND MAX SAYING THEY'RE GOING TO REVIEW THE DATA? MY HEART THOSE ARE HIS PARENTS

username6 the way they all immediately gathered for support dinner 🥺

username7 verstappen family therapeutic cake session: activated

username8 my boy got the best racing parents fr 😌

username9 max analyzing data while yn bakes comfort food, perfect parenting

username10 most wholesome post-DNF recovery ever

username11 yn's cake solving all f1 problems one slice at a time

username12 lando still trying to get adopted in the comments HELP

liked by yourinstagram, maxverstappen1 and 509,755 others

olliebearman P8!!! First F1 points in the bag! 🙌 Found this note in my driver room this morning and it gave me the extra push. Thanks @/maxverstappen1 and @/yourinstagram for being the best racing parents and sneaking into Hass to leave it 😂 Also mega racing from my bros today!Great weekend ❤️

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username1 AHHHH FIRST OLLIEPOINTS

username2 UMMM THIS IS SO SWEET??

yourinstagram SO PROUD OF YOU! 🥳 (also don't tell how we got into the garage)

maxverstappen1 Good job kid 💪 Now about that overtake attempt on lap 32...

kimi.antonelli my bro killing it! (but seriously how did they get past haas security)

isackhadjar crushing it bro! save me some celebration cake

gabrielbortoleto_ first of many points! 🙌 (yn's ninja skills are scary ngl)

username3 YN AND MAX SNEAKING HAAS TO LEAVE PARENT NOTES I'M DYING 😭

username4 the most supportive illegal garage entry ever

username5 THEY REALLY BROKE INTO HAAS FOR THEIR SON I CAN'T

username6 most dedicated racing parents award goes to...

username7 the note is actually so sweet though 🥺

username8 verstappen family really said "security who?"

username9 IM SOBBING THOSE REALLY ARE THEIR KIDSSSS

username10 I LOVE THIS LORE SM

liked by maxverstappen1, kimi.antonelli and 301,054 others

yourinstagram WHAT A DAY! 🎊 super proud of dad for the win (as always) but seeing three of our kids score points?? mom's heart can't take it 😭❤️@/kimi.antonelli P6, @/isackhadjar P8, and @/olliebearman P10 - YOU'RE ALL DOING AMAZING! @/jackdoohan and @/gabrielbortoleto_ your time is coming soon babies! now time to stuff everyone with celebration sushi

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username1 I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

username2 MAX AND HIS KIDDOS

maxverstappen1 They're fighting over the last california roll as we speak 🤦‍♂️

kimi.antonelli best racing family ever 🫶 (i won the sushi battle btw)

olliebearman thanks mom!! also kimi definitely cheated for that roll

isackhadjar perfect day with the family ❤️

jackdoohan next race is mine! (save me some sushi pls)

gabrielbortoleto_ points loading... also who filmed kimi's sushi heist

lando this family content is getting out of hand (but can i come for sushi?)

alex_albon mate why wasn't there family sushi in my day 😫

username3 NOT YN CALLING THE WIN "DAD" AND THE POINTS "OUR KIDS" 😭

username4 the way she's actually more excited about the rookies than max's win help

username5 verstappen family sushi war is sending me 💀

username6 yn collecting champion boyfriend and point-scoring children

username7 toto sharing custody with max and yn wasn't on my 2025 bingo card

username8 jack and gabriel getting the "your time is coming babies" treatment 🥺

username9 isack really secured points AND family dinner we love to see it

username10 THE VERSTAPPEN FAMILY IS SO TALENTED

username11 lando trying to get adopted in the comments AGAIN 😭

liked by yourinstagram, olliebearman and 976,387 others

maxverstappen1 When you're on a two week break from F1 and want a nice time at home with your girlfriend but your 5 adopted kids refuse to leave the house... 🤦‍♂️ At least they're getting better at FIFA (still not better than me though)

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username1 IM DYING

username2 THIS IS SO REAL

yourinstagram you love it really �� (also kimi and gabe are banned from my kitchen after that pasta incident)

kimi.antonelli this is our house too now, no take backs

olliebearman jack's been hogging the sim for 2 hours, this is favoritism

jackdoohan not my fault i'm fastest

isackhadjar your couch is just really comfortable okay

gabrielbortoleto_ the pasta wasn't THAT bad...

lando might join the invasion tomorrow 👀

charles_leclerc mate your house is literally turning into a rookie daycare

username3 HELP THEY'VE LITERALLY JUST MOVED IN 😭

username4 max pretending to be annoyed while actually loving it: a series

username5 the pasta incident?? we need details 👀

username6 yn collecting children while max pretends to protest

username7 BEST THING ABOUT THE 2025 SEASON

username8 breaking: 5 f1 rookies stage permanent occupation of verstappen residence

username9 ollie really said "this is our house" the confidence 😭

username10 most expensive f1 daycare service

username11 "the pasta wasn't THAT bad" WHAT DID THEY DO

username12 max's villain to dad arc is actually complete

username13 yn somewhere: finally, i have all the children 😌

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liked by username1, username2 and 10,483 others

f1gossip Spotted: Fighting for dad's attention again... Kimi and Gabriel arguing over who gets Max's feedback before the race 😭

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username1 the way max is actually trying to listen to both of them at once 😭

username2 yn in the back like "my children are embarrassing me again"

username3 HELP WHY ARE THEY ACTUALLY FIGHTING LIKE SIBLINGS

username4 THOSE ARE HIS KIDS FR

username5 kimi really said forget mercedes i need dad's opinion first

username6 ollie watching this like "amateurs, i already got my feedback during lunch"

username7 yn collecting more chaotic children by the minute

username8 I BET LANDO IS STILL JEALOUS OF THIS

username9 jack somewhere taking notes on how to get feedback without the fight

username10 the way max is actually giving equal attention to both 😭 dad skills on point

username11 toto watching his rookie choose max's feedback over merc engineers

username12 gabe really speed walking to beat kimi to max HELP

username13 remember when max was the youngest driver? now he's managing kid fights

username14 the way yn is just accepting this chaos now

liked by maxverstappen1, jackdoohan and 409,386 others

yourinstagram this isn't goodbye, it's just a new chapter ❤️ So proud of how you're handling this @/jackdoohan. you're still our kid and this house is still your home (yes, even the sim room 😉). the racing world hasn't seen the last of you, and until then, you've got your whole family behind you. love you lots sweetheart 🫶 also @/francolapinto welcome to the family, dinner's at 7!

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username1 THIS IS SO SWEET OMG

username2 SHE SAID THATS OUR KID FOREVER

maxverstappen1 The sim is always open for you. We've got work to do 💪

jackdoohan love you mom ❤️ thanks for everything

olliebearman our brother forever 🫶 (also i'm still slower than you in the sim)

kimi.antonelli family sticks together no matter what

isackhadjar we've got your back bro!

gabrielbortoleto_ you're stuck with us forever

francolapinto thank you for the welcome! (slightly nervous about joining this family 😅)

lando proper family you've got there. i still feel excluded

username3 NOT ME CRYING AT YN'S MOM ENERGY 😭

username4 "you're still our kid" I'M NOT OKAY

username5 yn really said "my kid lost his seat but not his family"

username6 jack still having his racing family is everything

username7 franco getting adopted before he even starts HELP

username8 most supportive racing family award goes to...

username9 "yes, even the sim room" knowing that's where he spends most time 🥺

username10 this family really sticks together no matter what

username11 franco about to learn what it means to join this family

username12 "dinner's at 7" yn adopting the replacement immediately

username13 the way they're making sure he knows nothing changes

username14 most wholesome f1 family doesn't exi-

username15 franco watching these comments like "what am i getting into"

username16 this isn't a racing family anymore it's a FAMILY family 🥺

liked by yourinstagram, maxverstappen1 and 601,287 others

isackhadjar when @/olliebearman leaves his phone behind so max can take a pic with his actual favorite kid 😌

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username1 HELPPP ME

username2 MAX SELFIE ALERT

olliebearman DELETE THIS RIGHT NOW. also we all know I'M the favorite 😤

yourinstagram both of you are grounded.

maxverstappen1 Neither of you are the favorite. It's kimi.

kimi.antonelli AS IT SHOULD BE 😌

gabrielbortoleto_ this family meeting is about to get spicy...

lando still trying to figure out how max ended up with 6 children and i'm not one of them

username3 MAX ADMITTING THAT KIMI IS HIS FAVORITE JUST LIKE THAT HEEEEEEELP

username4 THE FAVORITE CHILD DRAMA I'M CRYING 😭

username5 yn having to parent a favorite child fight was not on my 2025 bingo card

username6 ollie somewhere sprinting back to get his phone

username7 max choosing chaos by saying kimi is the favorite HELP

username8 kimi really won the favorite child battle without even trying

username9 yn about to give the "i love all my children equally" speech

username10 isack really started a civil war with one post

username11 yn somewhere preparing the "we don't have favorites" lecture

username12 gabi just getting the popcorn ready for the drama

liked by francolapinto, maxverstappen1 and 401,376 others

yourinstagram last but definitely not least of our 2025 rookies making his debut! @/francolapinto you've worked so hard for this moment sweetheart ❤️ the whole family is so proud already. jack left you his lucky charm (yes I saw that), the boys have been sharing all their rookie race tips, and dad's already got your data analyzed. now go show them what you've got! also stop being nervous about family dinners, you're stuck with us now

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username1 MELTING AGAIN

username2 THEY JUST TOOK FRANCO TOO

francolapinto thanks mom 🥺❤️ (the note made me cry btw)

maxverstappen1 Remember what we discussed about turn 1. You've got this 💪

jackdoohan lucky charm worked for me, now it's your turn mate

olliebearman youngest sibling energy let's go 🔥

kimi.antonelli show them how it's done franco!

isackhadjar family's newest rookie about to kill it

lando this family keeps growing and i'm still not in it

username3 max and yn collecting another child: complete

username4 "stop being nervous about family dinners" WHY IS THIS SO CUTE

username5 franco went from replacement to beloved youngest child so fast

username6 yn's mom powers activated immediately for the new rookie

username7 newest verstappen family member making his debut

username8 all the siblings sharing rookie tips is actually so sweet

username9 jack supporting his replacement like a true big brother 😭

username10 "dad's already got your data analyzed" most supportive racing parents

username11 max is really a softie for this kids fr

username12 lando still trying to get adopted in the comments HELP

username13 most wholesome grid family keeps expanding

liked by lando, maxverstappen1 and 578,394 others

gabrielbortoleto_ Some Spain prep in the sim 💪 Getting those lines perfect for next week.

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username1 HELP IS THAT MAX'S SIM ROOM??? THE HELMET IN THE BACK 😭

username2 the way he's just casually posting from max's house like it's normal

username3 this man really said "sim prep" like we can't see max's entire setup 💀

username4 they've actually never left that house have they

lando you guys really never leave do you

username5 LANDO IS JEALOUS WE CAN TELL

yourinstagram dinner's at 7 sweetie 🫶

maxverstappen1 I still live here too you know 🤦‍♂️

username6 bro posted from casa verstappen like we wouldn't notice

username7 "the sim" sir that's your dad's gaming room

kimi.antonelli It's my turn with the sim

username8 NOT THEM FIGHTING OVER THE SIM

username9 they really just live there now and think we don't know

username10 at this point do they even have their own houses

username11 yn somewhere baking more cookies for her permanent residents

username12 not even trying to hide that they've moved in permanently 😭

liked by maxverstappen1, kimi.antonelli and 605,976 others

yourinstagram MY BOYS!!! 😭❤️ @/kimi.antonelli getting his first podium AND @/maxverstappen1 right there to celebrate with him - mom's heart is exploding! so proud of both of you! (and yes I cried, a lot) also all the other kids running to the podium to celebrate their brother's first podium? this family i swear

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username1 IM SOBBING

username2 THIS FATHER AND SON

maxverstappen1 Super proud today 👏👏

kimi.antonelli thanks mom and dad 🥺❤️ (yn you didn't have to cry THAT much though)

olliebearman my turn next! also kimi you owe us dinner now

gabrielbortoleto_ podium celebration was worth the paddock pass violation

isackhadjar nothing can stop us from celebrating family wins

username3 MAX THE PROUD DAD

username4 yn crying more than kimi at his first podium is peak mom energy

username5 the way all the siblings broke paddock rules to celebrate

username6 security watching 4 f1 drivers sprint to their brother's podium

username7 toto watching his driver celebrate with the competition family again

username8 yn really crying like it's her biological son's first podium 😭

username9 THE WAY THEY ALL RUSHED TO CELEBRATE WITH HIM

username10 most chaotic podium celebration

username11 them breaking rules just to celebrate together is everything

username12 from max's rival team to max's son real quick

username13 most wholesome father-son podium in f1 history

liked by maxverstappen1, yourinstagram and 1,029,588 others

lando since max and yn won't let me join the family, i'm stealing some of the kids. taking these three to the f1 movie premiere while their dad's stuck in simulator duties

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username1 HEEEEELP

username2 I LOVE LANDO SM

yourinstagram take care of my babies! 🥺 and make sure they don't stay up too late, they have duties tomorrow! also ollie needs his allergy meds and gabe gets cranky if he doesn't eat every 3 hours and franco gets nervous in crowds so keep him close! text me when you land! ❤️

maxverstappen1 Bring them back in one piece Norris

olliebearman WE'RE NOT BABIES (but yes i packed my meds)

gabrielbortoleto_ already hungry tbh

francolapinto sticking to lando like glue don't worry mom

kimi.antonelli this is favoritism, why wasn't i invited 😤

username3 YN'S MOM INSTRUCTIONS IN THE COMMENTS 😭

username4 lando really kidnapped 3 verstappen kids

username5 yn listing care instructions like they're toddlers HELP

username6 max stuck in sim while lando takes his kids out

username7 "ollie needs his allergy meds" WHY IS THIS SO FUNNY

username8 lando finally got into the family through uncle status

username9 "gabe gets cranky if he doesn't eat every 3 hours" EXPOSED

username10 THE ROOKIES + LANDO I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

username12 most expensive babysitting job in monaco

username13 lando finally found his way into the family 😭

liked by username1, username2 and 10,986 others

f1gossip SPOTTED: Max Verstappen and YN finally getting alone time on their yacht in St. Tropez!

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username1 THE ROOKIES ACTUALLY LET THEM HAVE A VACATION ALONE??? 😱

username2 breaking news: f1's busiest parents get a break

username3 somewhere in monaco 6 drivers are probably burning down the house

username4 first documented evidence of max and yn without children in 2025

username4 checking ig stories to make sure the house is still standing

username5 the kids finally let mom and dad have a date 😭

username6 I KNOW THE ROOKIES ARE CRYING BC THEY DIDN'T TAKE THEM

username7 most shocking f1 2025 news: verstappen parents spotted without children

username8 guarantee yn is still texting them every hour to check in

username9 max and yn experiencing peace and quiet for first time this year

username10 casa verstappen probably in chaos while parents are away

username11 who's taking bets on how long before one of them calls

username12 lando somewhere offering emergency uncle services

username13 giving it 24 hours before they rush home to check on their children 😭

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liked by maxverstappen1, isackhadjar and 613,029 others

yourinstagram 48 hours of actual peace and quiet with @/maxverstappen1. no sim schedule, no driver coaching, no chaos... just us (already missing our chaos though 🥺)

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username1 MY PARENTS ACTUALLY

username2 they really left all the rookies at home help

kimi.antonelli mom please come back the kitchen is... concerning

kimi.antonelli unrelated but how do you get pasta off the ceiling

olliebearman franco tried cooking, it didn't end well

gabrielbortoleto_ this is betrayal

jackdoohan guys stop snitching on each other in the comments 🤦‍♂️ but also yn the washing machine is making weird noises

francolapinto didn't start the kitchen situation, that was ollie. also we miss you 🥺

maxverstappen1 We're never going home, the kids can find a new foster home

username3 THE KIDS FALLING APART WITHOUT THEM AFTER 2 DAYS

username4 six f1 drivers vs basic household tasks: a saga

username5 "how do you get pasta off the ceiling" HELP

username6 they really can't survive 48 hours without mom and dad

username7 max and yn enjoying peace while their house burns down

username8 GET BACK TO THE KIDS

username9 them snitching on each other in the comments 😭

username10 yn reading these comments while booking next flight home

username11 professional athletes vs washing machine: washing machine winning

username12 "franco tried cooking" immediate evacuation needed

username13 max really said we're never going back 😭

username14 yn's notifications just: HELP HELP HELP HELP

liked by yourinstagram, lando and 1,094,593 others

maxverstappen1 Back to usual programming... Google search: how to kick 6 Formula 1 drivers out of my house? (Asking for a friend)

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username1 HELP MEEE

username2 THATS THEIR DAD

kimi.antonelli you'd miss us after 5 minutes

olliebearman we pay rent in entertainment

gabrielbortoleto_ you literally adopted us first

isackhadjar too late we have keys now

francolapinto who else would eat all your food?

jackdoohan you love us and you know it

lando make it 7 i'm coming over

yourinstagram babe you were literally just showing their baby photos to horner yesterday

username3 YN EXPOSING MAX SHOWING OFF BABY PHOTOS 😭

username4 "we pay rent in entertainment" they really do though

username5 max pretending he doesn't love the chaos

username6 man went from world champion to full time dad real quick

username7 "too late we have keys now" HELP 💀

username8 max's retirement plan: adopting every rookie

username9 yn exposing max's proud dad moments in the comments

username10 max acting like he doesn't love being everyone's dad

username11 man really adopted half the grid and is pretending to regret it

username12 FRANCO WITH NINO IM CRYING

liked by username1, username2 and 15,974 others

f1updates SPOTTED: Ollie Bearman caught sneaking into Red Bull garage to steal energy drinks... again. Dad's drinks hit different apparently

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username1 naur why he sneaking around like his dad doesn't LITERALLY DRIVE FOR THEM 😭

username2 caught in 4k trying to steal from his own family's garage HELP

username3 not him acting like a whole spy for some red bull

username4 the way he could've just asked max but chose crime instead

username5 he just wanted to see his dad

username6 THEY REALLY CANT STAY AWAY FROM MAX

username7 the way he's literally part of the family but still sneaking around

username8 times ollie's been caught stealing rb drinks: 27

username9 max's child getting caught robbing his workplace is peak 2025

username10 he wanted the family discount but forgot to ask first 💀

username11 max come get ur kid he's stealing from work again

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liked by olliebearman, maxverstappen1 and 1,344,982 others

f1 Stefano's dinner for the drivers ! ❤️

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username1 the seating arrangements exposing the family favorites 💀

username2 kimi really secured the spot next to dad

username3 ollie at the other end like a disowned child HELP

username4 max keeping the good kids close and sending ollie to timeout with oscar

username5 kimi won the favorite child competition and it shows

username6 the favoritism is real and we have photo evidence

username7 ollie being exiled to the other end for crimes against red bull garage

username8 max keeping his well behaved children close and ollie in australian timeout

username9 kimi strategically claiming the favorite child spot

username10 ollie watching kimi get the prime spot: 🧍‍♂️

username11 the three good children got front row seats

username12 consequences of stealing red bull: banishment to oscar's end

username13 seating chart exposing family dynamics

lando at least ollie has oscar to console him 💀

olliebearman THIS IS LITERALLY BULLYING

kimi.antonelli earned my spot fair and square 😌

yourinstagram maybe if someone hadn't been caught stealing from the garage...

maxverstappen1 Good children get good seats 🤷‍♂️

oscarpiastri don't worry @/olliebearman we'll start our own family

f1world 24 hours after defending Bortoleto in press conference, Max Verstappen helps Gabriel in quali. Bortoleto makes Q3 for the first time thanks to Max giving him tows on track. Proud dad energy radiating from Red Bull garage 👀

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username1 journalist really made max activate super dad mode

username2 NOT HIM LITERALLY GOING TO HELP AFTER THAT PRESS CONFERENCE 💀

username3 THATS MAX'S SON FR

username4 max said talk shit about my kids and watch what happens

username5 man took "and i took that personally" to another level

username6 journalist accidentally unleashed father verstappen

username7 max really said watch me fix this real quick

username8 HELP HE LITERALLY WENT TO PROVE THEM WRONG

username9 max choosing violence via parent mode

username10 journalist opened their mouth and max chose dad revenge

username11 fastest parent response time in f1 history

username12 max: and here's what my children can do actually

username13 "disappointing? let me show you something"

username14 man took criticism of his kids personally and did something about it

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liked by maxverstappen1, isackhadjar and 603,597 others

yourinstagram mixed emotions kind of day... but mostly just proud ❤️ our little family had its first racing incident (they're fine, already hugged it out before even leaving the track) and... GABE GOT HIS FIRST POINTS! P8! 🎉

the way maxie went straight from his DNF to watching gabe's race from our garage... my heart 😭 mow time for celebration dinner (yes kimi, you're still invited, stop texting asking if you're grounded)

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username1 MY FAVORITE FAMILY

username2 THEY'RE EVERYTHING TO ME ACTUALLY

maxverstappen1 Never missing a kid's first points even if i have to watch from the garage

gabrielbortoleto_ best racing parents ever 🥺❤️

kimi.antonelli thanks for not grounding me mom

isackhadjar family dinner about to be wild

olliebearman gabe finally joining the points club 🎉

username3 NOT KIMI ASKING IF HE'S GROUNDED 😭

username4 max dnf'ing and still being proud dad we love to see it

username5 the way they're actually parenting these grown men

username6 "stop texting asking if you're grounded" I'M CRYING

username7 max watching from garage after dnf is peak dad behavior

username8 most wholesome f1 family fr

username9 their parenting energy is too powerful

username10 gabe getting his first points on family drama day

username11 max going from dnf to proud dad mode instantly

username12 tried for drama, got wholesome family content instead

liked by yourinstagram, kimi.antonelli and 1,274,599 others

maxverstappen1 We might have racing incidents, but these 6 are still my kids (even though they keep crashing my romantic dinners, stealing my drinks, and never letting me have alone time with my girlfriend) 🤷‍♂️❤️ Proud of everyone today. Yes, even you @/kimi.antonelli, stop sending apology memes now

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username1 SOFT MAXIEEEE

username2 im crying so bad

kimi.antonelli 🥺 sends another apology meme

olliebearman we crash dinners out of love

gabrielbortoleto_ best day with best family ❤️

isackhadjar you love us really

francolapinto we make life interesting admit it

jackdoohan family chaos is our brand

lando still waiting for my adoption papers

yourinstgarm OUR KIDS FOREVER 🥺

username3 "stop sending apology memes" HELP

username4 complaining about no alone time while enabling it

username5 kimi sending apology memes is killing me

username6 man really adopted 6 drivers and acts surprised they're around

username7 "we crash dinners out of love" I'M CRYING

username8 pretending to want peace while collecting children

username9 days since max last complained about his chaos: 0 days since he enabled it: also 0

username10 THOSE ARE HIS BIOLOGICAL CHILDREN

username11 man gave everyone keys then acts shocked they show up

username12 "these 6 are my kids" THE ACCEPTANCE STAGE

[nitewrighter]

Snow White and the Fae Co-Op

Part One: I Didn't Vote For You

Okay so like--

I get why people thought we were all dwarves. Or made us all dwarves. Something between that. Collaborative storytelling what have you. It makes things significantly simpler, and it's a much punchier title than "Snow White and the Troll, the Redcap, the Púca, and four gnomes." (Of course I get top billing--I was her favorite.) And, okay, yeah, none of us came up past Snow's ribcage. Understandable.

But still it's like one of those things you don't want to start correcting people on it because you know you're going to spend the rest of your life correcting and concordantly explaining shit to people. But now it's like, you're pissed when we are dwarves, you're pissed when we're not dwarves, seriously! Pick a lane!

But okay, it seems everyone's pissed about this right now, so let's get pedantic.

We aren't sexy fairies.

Okay I didn't start that out right.

I guess it's easiest to explain this as... think of the ocean. So like, there are the scary sexy fairies who have the whole Succession/Bridgerton/White Lotus Fae Court thing going and they turn you into a deer and hunt you for sport, that's the Deep End. Then you have humans. Humans, in this metaphor, are land.

Me and my guys? We're tide pools.

A lot of stories are all like "Ougggh the magic is dying from this world ouggghhh the old ruined kingdoms" but in my opinion I think that's overall a case of Immortals Being Very Weird About Change In General. Like the tide, magic in this world rises and falls, and in the course of that you end up with this kind of hardy subgroup of fae who can survive in both High-Fae and High-Human environments. We're kind of our own ecosystem, but we're also kind of intermediaries between the Deep End Fae Court and the humans. We actually tend to broker a lot of more like, working class deals between the magical world and the human world. Maybe we get compared to the mob a lot. Whatever.

I'm getting into the weeds. This story isn't about me and the guys. This is about our girl, Snow. And trust me, I'm old as balls so before you get all 'Oh, one girl and seven guys? wHAt waS gOinG oN tHeRE?" (And you're absolutely disgusting for that, by the way). You need to understand that, on a species level, Snow was basically like keeping a very beautiful (albeit kind of bossy) sentient duck in the house. We loved our beautiful sentient duck and were impressed by the many talents of the beautiful sentient duck. No one desired the beautiful sentient duck on a romantic or physical level because, one, romantic and sexual desire for our subgroup of fae is very tedious, nuanced, and species-specific, and two, she was a duck. I mean she wasn't a duck, she was a human, but for us that's basically like being a sentient duck. All of those shitty "One girl seven guys" jokes I can definitely say are a result of human projection. Like again, you need to understand that my guys and me have basically gone through Magic Carcinization.

Again, I'm getting into the weeds.

All you need to know about Snow is that she broke into our house, she scares the shit out of us, and we would kill for her.

Okay you should probably know more than that.

Okay, so remember like 12 seconds ago when I said me and my guys are more of the working-class brokers between humans and Fae? And remember that Deep End I mentioned earlier? So like, the Deep End does deal with humans, but that tilts heavily into the 'Royalty and Miracles' side of things. Swords in stones. Swords in lakes. A fish that gives you all of the cosmic secrets of the universe when you eat it. That kind of stuff. That's kind of where Snow came from. She's a Fae weapon forged in a human womb. Hence why she scared the shit out of us.

How do I start this properly?

Once upon a time there were three human kingdoms. An icy kingdom in the north, a temperate kingdom in the west, and a, let's be real, damp kingdom in the east. Icy Kingdom had a queen, a beautiful queen, and the Deep End of the Fae love beautiful things. Beautiful Queen wanted more, and she made a deal with the Deep End of the Fae. She gave them her heart, and they give her a mirror that gives her sight beyond sight, and she used that to conquer Damp Kingdom in the East. They fought, but she could predict every one of their strategies with her mirror, all she needed to do was ask the mirror what this general is doing, or that Lord is doing, and bing-bang-boom, she took Damp Kingdom in a matter of months. And for good measure she took their baby boy prince, a pretty but frankly useless boy who, as the years went on and he grew, she largely kept for cup-bearing and harp-playing and decoration and also threatening to cut the head off of if Damp Kingdom ever stepped out of line. Because Damp Kingdom loved their pretty pretty baby boy prince as the last remnant of their royal bloodline, they were now thoroughly cowed.

So now the Queen turned her eyes to the Temperate Kingdom.

And this is when the Deep End Fae were like, "Hey okay you've conquered a neighboring kingdom, which we don't super-care-about for nebulous Fae Reasons, but for equally nebulous Fae Reasons, we don't want you to conquer Temperate Kingdom."

And the Queen was like, "Whatever."

And the Deep End Fae were like "Okay, then here's the part where we use that previous thing you gave us against you." And they tried to use her heart against her, but basically the Queen used the Mirror to circumvent the heart magic through a whole bunch of... jury-rigged alchemy shit? I don't know. This stuff was already way out of my pay grade. But what I do know is, the Deep End Fae realized they couldn't use the Evil Queen's previous deal as a failsafe against her, so they needed a new approach to stop her.

Temperate Kingdom was ruled by a kind king and queen. They also didn't want to be conquered, but things weren't looking good. Their capital city was under siege. The Kind Queen was pregnant and ready to pop--scratch that, currently popping. The king was mortally wounded while defending said Capital City. They dragged the mortally wounded king back to the bailey and he's all delirious ranting about his wife and the not-yet baby.

And then a figure in a mossy cloak appeared. They loomed over the mortally wounded king and they said very gently "Your blood will outlast you. Do you permit our assistance in this? Do you permit the cost?"

And the king was dying and he only understood like 40% of what was going on right now. He knew what was talking to him right now wasn't human. He knew you don't refuse a gift from the Fae. And he knew he was kind of safely in the 'fucked-up miracle' territory of Fae gifts though he didn't really understand the full extent of what that meant (and that's fair--no one does). He kind of assumed it would just be his own life as the cost of whatever the hell was happening here. So he's bleeding out and he nods. "If it will preserve the Kingdom," he says, "If it will save our child."

So we cut to the queen. The royal birthing is... okay it's going rough. Giving birth under siege will do that to you. In ideal circumstances you would have this hardcore butch midwife stick most of her forearm up the birth canal to reposition the baby and both the mother and child would live but... you didn't have that here. Instead, once more, the figure in the mossy cloak loomed over the Queen as she screamed through agonizing contraction after contraction. They touched two fingers to the queen's forehead and they gave her a flood of visions. Snow. Fire. Blood. Blackened earth. A little sapling growing from the body of a great and noble felled tree. And she looked to the figure in the mossy cloak. And she saw their face was kind.

The kind queen died in childbirth as the Evil Queen's forces overtook the capital city. The king was dead before he knew what deal he had made. The Evil Queen and her troops marched into the grand hall, only to see a figure in a mossy cloak seated on a little stool next to a wooden bassinet. The Evil Queen made that anime villain snort-scoff sound.

"So kind of you to offer your blessing in my victory," she said.

"This is not a blessing we offer," said the figure in a mossy cloak, "You have abused the gift given in our previous trade. The trust between us is breached. We now give you back that which you gave us. All you have won for yourself will rot. And as with all rot, new and rightful life will spring from it."

And the Evil Queen almost laughed at this at first, again, like "Whatever," but then after a few seconds she begins to do the math. In exchange for a mirror that gave her sight beyond sight, she gave the fae her heart, and then she jury-rigged a whole bunch of magical alchemical bullshit to protect herself from basically being shackled to the fae's will through her heart, because hey, if you can, that's what you do.

But what happens if your heart is no longer your heart?

What happens if the Fae bind your heart to someone else?

What happens if your heart is now wrapped in different royal blood from the kingdom the Fae told you specifically you're not supposed to conquer?

And that was Snow.

The most beautiful, weirdest, most uncanny-ass baby you've ever seen. AND she had that weird undercooked look all human babies have. A semi-formed little beast. Can you imagine looking at an infant and knowing it's going to burn down everything you've ever built? Can you imagine knowing that trying to smother this threat in its crib will burn everything down, too?

But you think, "It's okay. I can manage this. Plants can be molded in to bonsai and topiary. I can shape this to suit my needs, too. It just takes care. It just takes maintenance."

And that's when Evil Queen declares, "As a symbol of healing between our kingdoms, I will raise this child as my own." And she gives a sharp glance to the figure in the mossy cloak, and they give an assenting motion with their... probably head? Probably.

And she awkwardly takes up the baby in the crook of her arm. Wow awesome, she already has an amazing propaganda tool. There's no way this is going to backfire on her in like... 17 or 18 years.

Except you know it will. Because this is the "Fucked up miracles" side of shit we're talking about. And the Evil Queen is not on the side of miracles.

Fucking hell, that's all a mouthful, and Snow hasn't even met us yet! Look, I'm gonna take a smoke break and I'll get back to you in a minute, okay?

[quantum1mmortality]

omg uhhhh…

curly giving/receiving head headcanons??…

it’s so generic but I’m on the floor sobbing I’m desperate for more of this man, you’re an incredible writer and I love what you’ve written abt curly so far!!

I want to give this man the most world shattering head he's ever had in his whole life, like soiled sheets and fucking mind boggling orgasms. RIGHT NOW

Tw/cw; Afab!reader, cunnilingus AND filatio!!!! that's all I think

Not proofread

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Receiving

He whimpers.

No but like seriously, he does whimper. He'd be so caught up in the feeling that just slips out, along with him saying your name ofc 🤭

He'd be more of a sheet gripper than a hair gripper. Like I said in my marriage hcs, Curly tries his best to not be rough with you; and in his eyes, gripping onto your hair is being rough.

He mainly thinks that way because he's under the assumption that it hurts you, which he wants no part of. So, he sticks to what he thinks is best for you.

But sometimes he just can't help himself, the pleasure he's feeling overrules his own morals, and he breaks.

So every once in a while, he'll grab a hold of your hair and just.. push you down a little further and hold you there. It isn't his fault, he doesn't mean to! But he feels awful about it in the moment

Once he's finished, he's an incoherent mess. He's so fucked out he can't even form words properly, but after a few minutes he can say "thank you". Why does he thank you? He thinks it's nice; a gentlemanly thing to do.

He'll eventually apologize, just give him a few more minutes to compose himself.

Giving

Curly would be the type of man to constantly want you sitting on his face. And I mean CONSTANTLY.

He'd definitely use it as foreplay all the time. Even if you don't need it, he'll still insist. He probably gets more pleasure from it than you do.

Even though he doesn't want to hurt you, that rule for him doesn't apply when he's eating you out. His hands leave actual MARKS from how hard he's pulling your thighs down while trying to keep you still.

Do you guys remember what doja cat said about big noses? Curly would DEFINITELY position your waist in a way that your clit is resting on his nose. And then he'd use his grip on your thighs to rock you back and forth, as if you're riding it

As you can imagine it doesn't take long to cum after he starts doing that, and he's not letting a single drop go to waste. It's his favorite snack actually, he likes working for what he deserves 🤭

More often than not he'd ask to do it again, but it takes so much energy out of you that you physically can't sit up. It's like he's sucking the life out of you, both literally and metaphorically.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: Got me holding my breath I've been dreaming of this all night, thinking all the time about you hope that's alright

[https-bobreynolds]

bob headcanons

pairing: robert ‘bob’ reynolds x thunderbolts*! reader

summary: just some headcanons of bob, before and after you guys started dating.

author’s note: i love bob sm you don’t even know but WHERE ARE THE VOID X READER FANFICS AT- anyways, should i make any one of these into a short blurb/fanfic? let me know which one i should do <3

before:

bob who always stares at you, no matter who else is in the room

of course whenever you noticed, he always immediately looked away with a blush, “u-uhh, the sky looks so… b-blue today…”

no matter how you looked, he always looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing on this earth, which to be fair, is the truth for him

bob who’ll always try and defend you from the other’s snarky remarks

bob who gets nervous every time you go on a mission, and will wait for you to come back safely, no matter what time it is

if you do come back injured, be prepared for him to wait for you in the medbay UNTIL the doctors have deemed you fully healthy

bob who always comes to your room (he’d knock the door first- obviously) whenever he can’t sleep, bringing his own set of bolsters and pillows

at first, he’d want to stay and sleep on the floor, saying that he just needed your presence- that sleeping on the floor is fine. but when you kept on insisting that it was fine, he just couldn’t resist.

he’d try to be careful, not to touch you or make you uncomfortable. but his efforts are gone in vain when he woke up the next morning, tangled in your limbs

bob who could care less about the mission cause anytime you’d go on missions together, his only mission is to make sure that you’re fine, that you’re protected and safe

bob who puts his book down whenever you come around, doesn’t matter if you talked to him or not, his focus is all on you

bob who blushes at every contact you make with him

bob who secretly gets jealous whenever you laugh at bucky or john’s jokes, wishing it was him

bob who would never confess first because he thought that he wasn’t good enough for you :(

after:

bob who, after you confessed, will never stop telling you how much he loves you

bob who’ll still stare at you, even less subtly now, but with even more love and affection if that was even possible, “you look… r-really beautiful, sweetheart”

bob who always tries and come accompany you on your missions- even though the others would usually reject the idea. at least he tried.

bob who will personally clean up your wounds whenever you come home from those missions, secretly taking first-aid kit lessons on youtube in his free time so he can properly heal you up

bob who now practically lives in your room, he just comes there whenever he can’t sleep, and snuggle you right up

whenever you’re away on missions, he’ll most definitely stay in your room, feeling comfort from your scent, your things, just the feeling of you…

he’ll help clean things up, do the laundry for you, organize your array of weapons, water your plants (which he got for you), and many more- anything that’ll help make your life easier

bob who wakes up early to cook you breakfast, because breakfast is the most important meal of the day according to him

most likely would remind you to eat and drink water every day cause he’s cute like that

he’ll also cook lunch and dinner for you whenever he can, remembering what you like and don’t like

bob who’ll cherish every moment with you, every gift you gave him, he just loves you so much and will always remind you how much you mean to him

bob who holds you in any time and way possible, especially whenever you’re both out in public. he hates loud noises, touching you gives him a bit of comfort

he’ll be extra touchy in private, but respectfully of course, always end up asking, “i-is this okay?”

bob who melts every time he sees you wearing his oversized clothes… which is most of the time

bob who whenever the team would go do movie nights, will always be seated next to you, making sure to cover the two of you under a warm blanket

bob who takes extra care of you when you’re sick or on your period, trust when i say this man will do his research for you

oh how badly he wishes he can take the pain for you

bob who needs reassurance every now and then

bob who can control his other sides best when he’s with you because your presence gives him calmness and solace

on the other hand though, if you are ever in extreme danger just know that his other side will 100% show up because he’ll do anything to protect you

his other sides, being void and sentry, of course, also has a soft side for you

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

thinking about toji the ultimate brat tamer vs two big brats – you and satoru.

you both talked big at first; about how he couldn't handle the two of you at the same time, about how he'd be the one to fold first, about how you'd make him whimper and moan, and yet...

here you are - laying on top of satoru, half limp, while getting pounded like there's no tomorrow. eyes hazy and threatening to roll back inside your head, tears run over the apples of your cheeks and drool trickles from the side of your mouth. he's filling you up so fucking good that you can't even properly moan – the only sounds leaving your pretty lips being shaky breaths and mewls. toji's heavy balls slap against you with every rough thrust and your ass stings from all the times he's slapped your soft, sensitive skin.

toji watches your tight little hole with hungry eyes, he watches you swallow him, he watches himself disappear deep inside you. you're so fucking warm and you feel delicious around him – he's addicted already. he's the only reason you're still half-up on your knees, his big calloused hands hold onto your waist like his life depends on it. he's not letting you go anywhere, no matter how much you want to run from him, from the pleasure.

"'s too much. i– i can't." his dick twitches inside you at your broken whine, clearly enjoying the state that you're in.

"nah." he rasps back. "don't think 's enough, actually."

toji's fingers bruise your skin as he pushes down on your back, making you arch even more for him. he takes his knee from the bed and places it down beside your trembling thigh. he's reaching new depths with this new position and he chuckles darkly when he sees your jaw fall slack.

above you, satoru lets out a muffled groan.

gagged and tied up – the only thing he can do is watch toji fuck your brains out. he can't even hold you, he can't even taste you...

he's never been this hard in his entire life.

your cheek is smushed against his lower stomach and you can feel his cock rubbing against your chest with every thrust toji makes. you're drooling all over satoru and fuck – he really just wishes he could kiss you.

his glassy blue eyes travel from your sweaty body to the man behind you, and he's met with the meanest grin.

"strongest one, hm?"

toji has never felt more powerful than he does in this moment. the legendary satoru gojo – finally at his mercy. tears cascade down his flushed cheeks and his adam's apple bobs, his skin is covered in red marks and sweat, and even though your own body hides satoru's - toji knows he's rock hard. the poor guy can't stop squirming and twitching underneath you, muffled mewls fill the air around you as his head lolls back against the headboard every two seconds.

the tip of his cock grazes against your soft skin but it's far from enough – a layer of his pre-cum coats your chest and your tummy and it's all just so fucking dirty.

toji fucking loves it.

he's going to pound you into the mattress while he watches satoru cry the prettiest tears. he's going to pump you full of his cum and then he's going to eat it out of you until you're passing out from overstimulation while satoru humps the air out of desperation. this is what you both get for talking back to him, for pushing his buttons.

he will make you both beg for his forgiveness and then he'll get to laugh and he'll get to mock – he's not stopping until you're both so fucking cockdrunk that the only thing you remember is his name.

you're both his little playthings now.

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 I THINK I'VE SEEN THIS LOVE BEFORE

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai finds himself back at your apartment in the weeks after the conflict with alexander pushkin while you're away in rome, hoping to push away the emptiness consuming him by dragging himself to the one place he's ever felt okay. it's not enough—not when you're not there—but he can't, and won't, ask you to drop everything you're doing to come deal with him and his fucked up head. luckily, he doesn't have to.

(wordcount: 5.8k; fem!reader, sfw, hurt/comfort, dazai depressive episode, implications of him having an eating disorder, mentions of past suicide attempts/self-harm, talks of suicide, dazai struggling with his place in the ada & struggling to find a reason to live, unedited.)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: YAYYYYYYYY ANOTHER AGE 22 FIC!!! this one was rlly ifhasudfhasd idk i liked writing this one. i like getting in deep with dazai's mental health it's therapeutic for me LOL. but i thought this one was a long time coming honestly, dazai's first bad depressive episode since they reunite at 22. wahhhhhh they both love each other so deeply it makes me sick. anyway there's a waterloo reference in here u guys better catch it or ill perish.

Dazai doesn’t know how he got to your apartment. Doesn’t know when he got to your apartment. Doesn’t even know what he’s doing at your apartment. By the time he finally starts to drag himself out of whatever dissociated state he’d been in, the sun has long set and the stars are shining brilliantly outside the windows lining the far side of your room, and he finds himself curled up in a ball in the center of your bed.

The last thing he remembers is that he was at work. He hadn’t slept the night before, or the night before that, or even the night before that, but he’d managed to drag himself into the office two hours late with a stubble he didn’t trust himself to shave, dressed in the same crumpled clothes he wore the day before. And the day before that. And the day before that.

They’re in a disheveled heap on your floor now. Dazai absently takes note of their location near your door and then looks down at himself, realizing that he must’ve changed into a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt when he got here. They’re not one of the ones you keep around for him, that’s for sure—the pants are riding up his calves because they’re too short for him, and the sweatshirt is a bit tight around his shoulders.

It’s a little uncomfortable, but the fact that they smell like you trounces the fact that they don’t fit him properly. He still feels a bit hazy even now that he’s drawn out of his trance, but he manages to drag himself to the top of your bed and shuffle himself beneath your dark sheets, letting his head drop against your pillow, eyes sliding shut as he desperately inhales the familiar lavender and vanilla of your shampoo.

Surrounded by the scent of you, he can almost pretend that the weight of the blankets on him is your arm draped around him as you pull him to your chest. He can almost drive away that cold, empty feeling that’s been consuming him the past few days. He isn’t sure what triggered this—he thinks maybe it’s been looming since you came back to deal with Alexander Pushkin two weeks ago, since he had to come to terms with the fact that you are the enemy now. That things aren’t the same as they used to be, that they’d never be the same as they used to be. 

It’s not you and him (and Chuuya) against the world anymore—ninety percent of the time from now on, it’s going to be him against you (and Chuuya) against the world, and Dazai has never felt so entirely alone. And he shouldn’t because he’s not alone: he has the Agency, but… 

But it’s just not the same.

His eyes flutter back open, and he stares ahead blankly at the windows. His reflection stares back at him, inhuman and incomprehensible; his eyes are dull and hollow and far too black, looking more like they belong on a monster than a man, and his skin looks gaunt and pale, his poor eating habits catching up to him. No wonder Yosano has been so on his ass about nutrition, and Kunikida has been stopping by more often with meals that end up getting thrown out. He looks like a ghoul. A wraith. Ugly and uncanny—his rotted mind and heart finally reflect onto his physical appearance so people can see him for what he really is. A demon. A monster. Something that cannot consider itself human.

He can only draw his eyes away from his reflection when he feels his phone buzz—he would ignore it usually, but it’s a welcome distraction from the haunting image of himself right now. He scrambles, trying to figure out where he’d dropped it, and it’s only when his fingers close around the device that he can finally breathe again.

The screen is too bright when he clicks it on. He grimaces at the light burning his eyes, fumbling to turn down the brightness so he can actually see what’s on the screen. His eyes scan quickly over the notifications—a dozen from Kunikida, a handful from Yosano and Atsushi, and—

And three missed video calls from you.

You must’ve gotten the notification that he was in your apartment—either from the security system or your doorman, but he’s pretty sure that he was careful to avoid the man’s notice and the cameras around the building. He chews on the inside of his cheek as his finger hovers over the call-back button, unsure if he wants to even call you back. You’re busy, surely—you’re back in Italy dealing with Port Mafia business, and it should be almost the evening there. You have more important things to be doing than dealing with his fucked up brain.

Still, his finger betrays him, pressing down on the screen before he can stop himself. The dial tone rings in his ears, each second stretching endlessly, anticipation curling in his chest. He braces himself for your voicemail, for the impersonal automated message to remind him that you’re too far away, too unreachable. But then—

“Dazai?” 

Your voice is soft, slightly breathless, like you hadn’t expected him to call back so soon. He swallows, throat painfully tightening at the sound of you, unable to look down at his phone. For a moment, he can’t bring himself to say anything. The lump in his throat is just too big for him to force his voice past it.

“Hi,” he finally whispers. His eyes rake over your face greedily, and he’s grateful that he video-called you back. You look beautiful—always do, he thinks wistfully—but even more so today. You’re dressed pretty, lips painted red, and eyes all done up; you must be at an event because he can tell that you’re not wearing the suit you usually wear. He can see the straps of your dress, just barely visible in the camera. “You look pretty.”

“Hi,” you reply, matching his tone. “Are you okay?”

He exhales shakily, forcing himself to play his part. “Of course, bella,” he says, injecting as much of his usual teasing lilt into his voice as he can manage. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You don’t buy it. He knows you don’t. You never have.

There’s a pause on your end, filled only by the faint sound of movement, a rustle of fabric, and a muffled voice calling your name. A male voice. Dazai’s fingers tighten around the fabric of your sheets. He hates the ugly feeling that curls in his gut. 

Your voice softens as you finally say, “You’re in my apartment.”

“... No,” Dazai lies after a few seconds, turning on his side to curl into himself. “Are you at an event?” 

“Yeah,” you agree, eyes flitting to the side to give someone off-screen a small, dismissive smile. “I’m with Tolstoy and Goldoni at a dinner. We’re meeting with a representative of the Church later—we’re trying to figure out who exactly Fyodor Dostoevsky is. Goldoni invited Tolstoy and me to Vatican City because he thought the Church might have information that could be of use to us.”

“Sounds important,” he says quietly, and he hates how small his voice comes out.

The corners of your lips soften as you look at him, and Dazai is suddenly very acutely aware of how ghoulish he must look. He almost wants to turn the camera away from his face, but he knows that’ll only bring more attention to it.

“Not more important than you,” you tell him, and for a second, Dazai thinks he might cry, all of the tension in his chest loosening at your words. “I would rather be there with you.”

“Me too,” Dazai breathes out, lashes wet and fluttering as he turns his face out of view of the camera, wiping his eyes furiously. “I don’t know what came over me. I don’t usually let it get to me like this. I just—”

“Don’t you think that's probably why?” you ask him softly. Dazai’s throat tightens painfully—if his eyes slide shut, he can almost imagine your fingers threading through his hair as you speak. “It’s Thursday there, right? Are you going to work in the morning?”

Dazai peeks up from the pillow curiously, wondering why you changed the subject so quickly. He bites his bottom lip, wondering if this is your way of asking him to leave. “I—I don’t know. Probably not. I can, I guess—”

“Don’t,” you interrupt immediately, and he looks at you again, waiting for you to continue. “I’ll be back Saturday night, wait for me?” 

“If you insist,” he rasps, still a bit drowsy, barely able to hold his eyes open as he looks at the screen. He sees you smile lightly, and that’s worth the burn in his eyes that the light of the screen causes. “Are you leaving?” 

You pause, and he sees you look back at where he assumes the rest of the people attending the dinner are sitting, and Dazai’s heart sinks. His chapped lips part to tell you that he’s fine, to crack a joke or flirt with you just enough to convince you that he’ll be okay if you go, but all he’s able to do is take in a ragged breath.

“I can stay on the phone,” you offer. “I won’t be able to talk, but I’ll be here, at least.”

“Okay,” he whispers.

He doesn’t hear you immediately standing up, so he cracks an eye open to see what you’re doing, and his mouth dries when he sees you staring at the screen with an indecipherable expression. You look like you want to say something, but Dazai can’t fathom what it might be. After what feels like an eternity, your head finally drops a little.

“Try to sleep,” you murmur before he hears you rise to your feet.

You don’t say anything else to him, but you don’t hang up either. Dazai listens as you walk back into the dining hall and laugh when Leo Tolstoy accuses you of trying to ditch them. He hears you apologize and tell them that you had to take an important call. He listens as Goldoni chuckles and teases you about a ‘mysterious lover,’ and he listens as you brush it off with a laugh, but you don’t deny it.

Dazai closes his eyes again, listening to the distant hum of your voice, the way you navigate the conversation so effortlessly, the way you sound so at home in a world that no longer includes him. He hates it. Dazai has regretted his decision to leave the Port Mafia before, but never more than now. He feels so separate from you, the two of you are living in entirely different worlds now, and he just hates it. He’s not good at saving people, he’s not good at being good at all, and it’s so exhausting pretending to be—he’ll never fully fit in with the rest of the Agency, and now he doesn’t fully fit in with the one person who has always accepted him for him, and it’s because of his own doing.

Eventually, his eyelids grow heavy as exhaustion finally catches up to him. He barely registers the moment his grip on his phone loosens, nor does he notice when the tension starts to seep from his muscles. The last thing he thinks he hears before sleep claims him is the sound of you excusing yourself from the table and the soft whisper of his name as if checking to see if he’s still there.

And then, silence. For the first time in what feels like forever, Dazai sleeps.

---

You’re not entirely sure if Dazai will still be there when you get back to your apartment. You don’t even bother going to talk to Mori, even though you know you should be heading to his office immediately to debrief everything you learned from Goldoni about Dostoevsky. You won’t be able to focus until you know Dazai is okay—you know that look in his eyes more intimately than anyone else. The first time you saw it, you found him on the roof of your building, swaying precariously on the edge, and the last time, you found him slumped over in your bathroom with a razor blade.

You drop your suitcase haphazardly on the ground, glancing down the hall to his bedroom, but your gut screams to go up to your room, so you place the food you grabbed on the way back down on the table and take off up the steps to your bedroom. The door is open, and you slow to a stop when you see a small lump curled up beneath your dark sheets.

You exhale softly, a fond smile curling onto the corners of your lips as you slip your shoes off and make your way over to him. 

You climb on top of the bed, careful not to disturb him, and you pull the sheets back just enough so that you can see his head. He looks at peace—fast asleep, his phone resting next to his head as he lets out even puffs of air. You let the call finally drop when you got up to your apartment, so you take his phone to rest it on the nightstand before turning your attention back onto him.

You lift your hand to run your fingers through his hair, watching as he lets out a soft noise in the back of his throat before leaning into your touch. He’s been sleeping since you got on the call with him over twenty-four hours ago, and there are still dark bags beneath his eyes. You don’t want to wake him up, but you know him and you know he probably hasn’t eaten in days.

Maybe more than that, you grimace, fingers tracing over his face. He’s lost weight, you know that just by looking at him—his cheeks are a bit sunken, and even though he’s wrapped in your blankets, you can see how thin his frame is. Dazai has never been bulky, but he’s always been lean and toned—now, he seems almost frail beneath the blankets. You swallow thickly as you lean down to brush your lips against his temple, watching as he slowly stirs awake.

“Hi, baby,” you whisper, still brushing your fingers through his hair as his hazy gaze slowly focuses on you. The pet name rolls off your tongue easily in spite of the fact that you haven’t used it in years—it’s reserved for Dazai, and it’s specifically reserved for moments like these.  “You awake?”

Dazai doesn’t respond. You don’t really expect him to. Your hand slides from his hair to cup his face, running your thumb over his cheekbone. He leans into your touch instinctively, and you can see his lashes start to flutter shut again.

“I brought food,” you tell him quietly as you shift to lay down next to him, slipping an arm around his thin waist to spoon him. You kiss his shoulder blade before nuzzling your face in the nape of his neck. “You should come eat.”

He needs to shower too, you think absently, but you have a feeling that’s going to be more difficult to convince him to do than eat. You can see the bandages on his neck yellowed and frayed at the edges—he probably hasn’t changed them in a concerning amount of time—and his hair is oily and greasy, all of the usual fluff gone. 

“I’m not hungry,” he murmurs. 

His voice is hoarse, a little over a rasp. You make sure to keep your arm around him as you prop yourself up on your other elbow, looking over him to catch him staring blankly into his reflection in the window. His eyes are dark—too dark and too empty, which means his mind has retreated back into a bad place. 

You press your lips together before coming to a decision. You take your arm from around his waist to lift it to his head, wriggling your hand under his cheek to forcibly turn his head up to the ceiling. His whole body falls onto his back when you succeed, and you catch a hint of displeasure in his eyes as he stares up at the ceiling—better than the emptiness. You don’t think he was doing himself any favors staring at himself like that. He’s never liked his own reflection.

“I brought your favorite,” you tempt, sitting up so that you’re kneeling next to him. You pull one of his hands into your lap, using your index finger to trace the lines on his palm and each of his fingers. “Come have a little.”

His expression softens as he looks down at where you’re tracing his hands. He asks quietly, “You brought crab?”

“Good crab,” you confirm. “From the rooftop restaurant in Naka that you like.”

He blinks. “They’re not open this late.”

You give him a smug grin and tell him, “They’re always open for me.”

He doesn’t roll his eyes, but he almost does from the way he side-eyes you. “You sound like Chuuya,” he mutters.

You ignore the insult and say, “Come eat.”

What little energy he mustered fades as his gaze shifts back to the ceiling. “I don’t want to move,” he whispers, voice little over a breath.

I can’t move, he’s really saying. His throat bobs as his eyes slide shut, and you let out a soft breath, lifting your free hand to caress his face as you lean down to press your lips gently to his forehead, tracing them over the bridge of his nose before brushing them against his.

“I’ll bring it to you,” you say quietly, shifting to get up off the bed, but you pause when he reaches out to grab your wrist. His grip is weak, fingers clinging to your suit jacket desperately, you probably wouldn’t have even noticed him grabbing for you if you hadn’t seen him move. “What is it?”

“Stay.”

“I’m not going far,” you tell him. “Just down the steps—”

“Stay,” he rasps out, opening his eyes to look at you again, and you freeze when you see the glassiness in them. “Please.”

“Okay,” you agree, shifting to lay with him again. Usually, he’ll curl into you when you guys lay together, but he stays flat on his back staring up at the ceiling. You lift your hand to turn his head to the side so he’s looking at you, and your heart clenches when you see the pain plainly visible in his eyes.

You don’t have to ask the question. Dazai’s lashes flutter shut, wet with tears he’s not letting roll over his cheeks. You run your finger over his cheekbone again, drawing small circles against his skin as you caress his face.

“I’m so tired,” he breathes out, voice hoarse. “I’m so tired. I’ve done everything he wanted, but nothing has changed. I still feel so empty, I still don’t belong there. I thought maybe once I started doing what he asked, I would change, I’d be better, I’d be good. Happier. But I still feel the same. I still want to die. I’m still me.” 

You inhale shakily. For as much as you’ve always known about Dazai’s unending yearning for death, he’s never actually explicitly said it out loud before, at least not to you. For a moment, your thumb pauses in the steady circles you’re drawing against his cheek, but you force yourself to speak. 

“You can’t live for someone else, Osamu,” you whisper, voice cracking. “You need to find a reason for yourself.”

“But what if I don’t have one?” Dazai asks, a ragged noise escapes his lips—a sob or an inhale, maybe both. His fingers are trembling in your hand; you think maybe you were wrong. Dazai doesn’t want to die, not really; he wants a reason to live desperately, but can’t find one, and without one, he doesn’t see the point in going on. “What if I don’t have one?”

“Then I’ll help you find one,” you say softly, your voice steady in spite of the tremor that runs through you. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay with you. We’ll figure it out together, you’re not alone. You’ve never been alone.”

Your hand slips off of his face when Dazai turns his head away, breath hitching, but you feel the tears finally start to roll over his cheeks as your hand drops to the mattress.

“But why?” he breathes out, voice wavering. “Why? I don’t understand.”

“Why what?”

“Why are you here? Why are you helping me? I left you, I left you and didn’t even say goodbye, and as soon as I came crawling back into your life, you let me. I know you left Rome early to come check on me. You never leave right after events, you wait a few days until the politics of it dies down.” His voice is pitched. Wobbly. It cracks over every other word, and he becomes more and more distressed with each passing second. “I don’t understand. I wasn’t even—I wasn’t even good to you back then. I couldn’t commit to you, and even when I did commit to you, I was still making things hard. I don’t understand why you’re here, why you’re with me when I only ever make life harder on you, I don’t deserve it. I—”

“Because I love you,” you tell him, sitting up to take his face in both of your hands to force him to look at you. The three words you never spoke before he left because you were afraid it would make him run, the three words you didn’t say back when they slipped from his mouth in the haze of pleasure, the three words the two of you have been dancing around for six years. He stares up at you, frozen, brown eyes wide and lips parted. “I love you, Osamu. I love you so much that it makes me sick sometimes. I love you even when you make things hard, I love you even when you run, even when you push me away, even when you disappear without a word and make me wonder if I’ll ever see you again. And I hate that I do sometimes, I really do—you drive me insane, but I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything.”

His lips part, but no words come out. His hands are trembling, but his grip finally tightens on yours. His chest rises and falls in short, uneven breaths, and you carefully pull him into your arms. He instinctively curls into you, resting his head on your shoulder; you bring your free hand up to cradle his head, fingers tightening around his other hand.

“I left Rome early because I knew you needed me to,” you continue. “And I didn’t want to wait for you to ask, because I knew you’d never.”

His breath hitches. “I just don’t understand. I—”

“You don’t need to understand, Osamu,” you tell him quietly. “You just need to let me love you.”

“I don’t know how to be loved like this,” he whispers. “I’m going to mess it all up.”

“Then we’ll fix it again,” you promise, kissing the top of his head. “We have the rest of our lives for you to learn, yeah?” 

Dazai’s nose brushes your jaw as he shifts his head to look up at you, and you let your head fall to the side so that you can look at him. His eyes are swimming with emotion as he lifts his hand to your face—his fingers tremble as they brush your skin.

“I love you too,” he says softly, throat bobbing as he swallows thickly. It’s different hearing it now when he’s not drunk with pleasure, when he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters to him. It makes your throat swell, makes your eyes wet and glassy. “So much. It gets me so twisted up inside that I can barely breathe. I thought of you every day we were apart. It drove me crazy—you don’t understand, I saw you around every corner, I heard your voice in the wind. I dreamed of you every night, and I hated waking up because I knew you wouldn’t be there. When I heard—when I heard you were sent abroad, I went back to your apartment—”

Your eyes widen, and Dazai buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“I thought I would feel better. Your apartment—it’s always where I’ve felt… okay,” he continues, voice muffled against your skin, “but it made me feel so much worse. I’ve felt so guilty over leaving you without saying anything. It’s been eating me alive for years and—”

“It’s okay,” you whisper when his voice breaks into a sob. “It’s okay. I understand now. I—”

“It’s not okay,” he interrupts, voice rising in pitch as he forces himself to sit up to look at you. You sit up with him—his pupils are dilated, eyes wild, and he’s no longer trying to hold back the tears. “It’s not okay. I hurt you, I left you. It hadn’t even been a year since Itou died, and I knew you weren’t okay even though you pretended to be. You needed me and I left you. And—”

“And I forgive you, Osamu,” you tell him, reaching forward to grab his shaking hands again. It scares you how much you realize you mean it—you don’t think the resentment will ever fully go away, but you do forgive him. “I forgive you for leaving. I’m glad you left, I’m glad you got out of there, I’m glad you’re with the Agency. Of course I’ll always be sad that we’re not working together anymore, but we’re still us, we still have each other and that’s what matters.”

“But—” he starts to whisper, nails digging deep into the skin of your hands, but you don’t pull away.

“There is no ‘but’,” you say quietly. “I know you can’t see it yourself, Osamu, but I do. You have changed since you’ve been with them. You’ve changed for the better. I knew it the moment we first saw each other after all those years, and I know it now.”

“Then why do I still feel this way?” he breathes out desperately, looking to you for an answer. “I don’t understand.”  

“You’re not just going to suddenly wake up one day and feel okay,” you say with a wry smile, reaching out to caress his cheek. “That’s not how it works. But you’re doing good, Osamu. You are good. If the me from four years ago met the you now, I would never believe that you’re my Osamu—you haven’t let yourself see how far you’ve come, but before we met in my office, the last I remembered of you was when you were an executive, so I can see it better than anyone. The boy I knew four years ago is not the same man sitting in front of me today. I forgive you for leaving because it makes me happy to see who you’ve become since you’ve been gone. I’m proud of you, Osamu—and I know he would be too.”

Dazai grits his teeth to hold back another sob, head hanging forward. You shift toward him to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into you so he can bury his face in the crook of your neck.

“I hate that you always know what to say,” he mutters, fingers digging into the back of your suit jacket as he clings to you.

“Well, it is kind of my job,” you say dryly, lips curling up when he lets out a puff of air that you can only assume is amusement. 

“What about you?” he finally asks. You barely hear him since he’s speaking so quietly. “You could leave too. You could come with me. You could be good too—we could learn together.”

“Osamu—”

“You could,” he insists before you reject him, sitting back on his heels to look at you. “You could—”

“I don’t want to,” you tell him firmly, watching as his shoulders slump. “I’m not like you, or even Chuuya. You never enjoyed being in the mafia—you were the most successful executive we had, and you just didn’t care. You were only there because you were trying to find a way to spend your time. And Chuuya, he’ll always do what needs to be done to protect the city—he knows that sometimes you need to do bad things for the greater good, but he doesn’t like it.”

“And you?” he asks quietly.

“I love it,” you admit, swallowing thickly. “I don’t give a shit about the city, or the people, I like the money and I like the power and I like the fear and the respect and the love. I like having the most powerful men in the world in the palm of my hand, and I like knowing that if I wanted to, they would kill for me, die for me, start wars for me. I like that when I walk into a room with the Prime Minister, he’ll walk up to me for my attention. I like being wined and dined in foreign countries because all of their politicians and oligarchs want my favor. I love being with Port Mafia, Osamu. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to be good.”

You don’t expect Dazai to laugh, but he does. He barks out something caught between a sob and a laugh, pressing his hand to his mouth to smother it.

“And what does it say about me that you saying all of that made me hard?” he chokes out between either sobs or laughs, maybe both.

Your hand flies to your mouth to smother your giggle, but it’s to no avail, because when Dazai snorts, you can’t hold it back anymore. He leans into you as he bursts into laughter, and you press your face into the top of his head, burying your face in his hair as you giggle, absently wiping away the tears streaming down his cheeks.

When he finally starts to calm down, hysterical laughter becoming soft giggles, he lets out a heavy sigh. His lashes are still wet against the skin of your neck, and he’s still upset, but his shoulders aren’t tense anymore as he sinks into you.

“If you really think I’ve changed,” he asks, voice too small, “then how do you know you still love me?”

“Because you’re Dazai Osamu,” you answer instantly. “I’ll always love you—whether you’ve changed for the better or worse, I’m yours, and you’re mine. You changing just means I get the chance to fall in love with you all over again.”

A noise slips from his lips—you can’t tell if it’s a soft ‘oh’ or a gasp, but his arms tighten around you. After a few moments, he lets out a breathy, “I love you.”

You kiss the top of his head in response, running your hand up and down his spine absently before he finally lets out a heavy sigh and sits back on his heels to look at you. His eyes are heavy, and his smile is sad.

“Mori wants me back,” he says quietly after a moment. You inhale sharply, heart sinking as your hands drop back to your lap. “He’s mentioned it twice now. And you said it yourself, when he wants something—”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” you say firmly, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “I’ll handle it.”

“But—”

“Seriously, Osamu,” you say, and then add teasingly, “Don’t you still trust me? Didn’t you once say body, heart, soul, and trust?”

Dazai’s face instantly heats up. He rips his hand from yours to bury his face in his hands, letting out a long groan. “Can you not repeat all the embarrassing things I said when we were younger?”

“Please,” you laugh. “You don’t think me and Chuuya stopped re-enacting the ‘that’s why I love you’ just because you left, do you?”

“Oh my god,” he complains, falling over onto the bed to press his face into your pillow. You only barely catch the muffled, “I’m going to smother myself, and it’s on you.”

You laugh and shift to drape yourself over his back, kissing his shoulder blade before resting your head down on his back, drawing patterns on his back. “Anyway, I thought that one was cute, not embarrassing.”

Dazai only lets out an irritated grumble that makes you smile. 

“Ah, sweet hime, I’m going to have to disappear again for a few days after this one,” he sighs, turning his head to the side to look at you from the corner of his eye. You shimmy up a bit to press your lips to his cheek, watching his eyes flutter shut. “This is all just too embarrassing. You know how I feel about… talking and emotions.”

You can hear the disgust dripping from his words, and you laugh. “Tell that to someone who hasn’t had to talk you off the edge of a roof or wrestle you for a razor blade.”

His lips curl up into a soft smile. 

“Fair,” he whispers. 

You bite back a yelp when he suddenly rolls onto his back, hands darting out to shift you so that you’re lying on his chest instead. He reaches up to cup your cheek, and you let out a quiet breath when your eyes meet his. They’re still a bit too fragile for your liking, but there’s a peace that you’ve hardly ever seen before in them, and it makes your heart warm.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he admits, running his thumb over your cheekbone, staring at your face like he’s trying to burn it into his memory. “Please don’t ever go somewhere I can’t follow.”

“Somewhere without you?” you tease. “Sounds dreadful.”

He lets out a laugh, but there’s something sad that lingers in his eyes, and it makes you pause. You remember the words he said to you after the near-successful assassination attempt on you four years ago—everything I never want to lose is always lost, I’m so scared that you’ll be next.

“You won’t ever lose me, Osamu,” you promise.

Dazai’s gaze lowers. “I hope not.”

[kireilien]

Hope u dont mind the spam 😣

Reader is maki's gf buuuut maki lets nico eat you out. Why? Cause he wanted to learn "properly". Everything else is history.

-#

ur giving me a run for my money this was so nghhhh da inspo nd that one comment “why they running a 2man on a burger” LOL but i had to make this into a love letter this is so mind blowing ty # anon

tw/cw. nsfw content, cursing; bf!maki, bf bsf!nicholas, sub!reader, fem!reader, race neutral reader, “condescending,” “objectification,” thoughts of this being pseudo-cheating, maki sharing you, oral (f receiving), clit stim, ruined orgasm, lwk they pretend like you’re not there..., reader is referred to as “maki’s girl” a few times, the tws i’ll explain under the cut!

this was also inspired by one of my favorite nsfw asmrists on reddit u/-basilbasilbasil- and their audio about pussy inspection it just screams this scenario which is why i added those tags just in case if someone reads it and finds it uncomfortable! was also totally inspired by fumabun’s kissing ranking, just translated it to pussy eating lolz anyways

“okay. pretend like they aren’t wet already.” 

“how am i supposed to do that.” 

“just pretend, dude. i’m teaching you how to eat box, they’re not supposed to be wet already.” 

your bottom half is already bare, pussy open to both nicholas and maki. embarrassingly wet in front of them, you still couldn’t believe that maki– your fuckass boyfriend– was scared to try eating you out, so he asked nicholas– his best friend– to eat you out. it’s hard to pretend to sit there like a sex toy for their use, but i guess it’s all worth it for maki’s experience– and better yet your sex life and pleasure. 

“some guys just lay there, some guys just spread their legs, but you gotta hook your arms under their legs like this,” nicholas demonstrates by using his strong arms to clutch onto your legs. his hands slide down your inner thighs to spread them out a little more. maki sits up further on your bed to see nicholas’ next moves. “see when you have them like this, you have your eye on the prize.” maki nods at nicholas as he starts lowering his head. 

he flicks his tongue only slightly against your clit. you jolt at the sudden movement, “you wanna start off by only focusing on the clit. this is the clit. remember it. don’t be stupid and not know where it is because if the two of you break up, that’s gonna spread.” maki side eyed nicholas at his passive comment only for a bit before nicholas continued. “bob your tongue like this– it makes them wet, making them ready for you to eat up.” although nicholas’ tongue was out, causing his speech to get slightly unintelligible, maki still knew what he was talking about.

as nicholas carries on, your thighs twitch and soft moans fall from your lips. maki was good for calling nicholas out of everyone to eat you out. nicholas pull back only slightly, “see how they’re flowing? you can also thumb at them like this to get the same effect. just focus on the clit for a little bit.” nicholas’ thumb is rough, different from maki’s hands. your breath hitches and start breaking when your head is thrown back in your pillows. “see that? notice how they react too. if they’re unfazed, that’s how you know you’re fucked.” 

maki simply nods and hums once more. “and listen too. listen for the smallest things. you wanna know if they’re groaning like they’re hurting, humming like they’re bored, or actually whimpering for you.” nicholas points at his ear to indicate his ‘teachings’ to maki. 

“okay, after a few minutes, clit stuff isn’t it anymore, focus on their hole,” nicholas starts off first before coming back down to your pussy. “pussy juice is addicting, so don’t go all in. savor it. if you go crazy style, they’re just gonna get weirded out.” maki peers over your thighs once more to watch nicholas. “watch. take your tongue, cup it like this,” nicholas shows maki his tongue slightly curled before coming back down, “scoop up their wetness.” nicholas uses his curled tongue to push your leaking pussy juice against his tongue to taste you. nicholas smacks his lips once before muttering and flexing his jaw, “fuck, your girl tastes good.” maki jerks his head, “wait, what’d you say?” nicholas shakes his head, “nothing.” 

continuing on, nicholas starts up once more, “use your tongue and mouth at their entire pussy– like make out with it– watch.” nicholas uses his plush lips to envelop your pussy. his tongue drags up your labia and back up to your clit while closing his lips around it. maki’s looking intensely as if he’s taking notes up in his brain. nicholas keeps at it, “here, you kinda just freestyle. watch how they move and react. you might wanna snake your tongue down… kiss up in it… bite and suck at their lips… flick your tongue inside… tongue them back up… do whatever they like.” as nicholas talked, he reciprocated his words to his actions. if he talked about tonguing you, he tongued you. if he kisses you, he kisses you. almost down to an art. 

nicholas’ hands found themselves squeezing at the flesh of your thighs and ass as he watches you unfold on his tongue. your hands are gripping at your sheets, knees are bent up, legs closing in on the sides of his head. while your cries are growing louder. each moan, whine, and croak of pleasure is getting nicholas so fucking hard. his pants are tent up by how his cock is straining at his boxers. shit. if he had a girl too, he’d feel so fucking bad, but your pussy is heaven to him. the way you’re melting on his tongue and taste like pure gold. thank god this isn’t technically cheating on maki. 

right when you feel the knot in your stomach inches away from snapping, nicholas pulls away. you whine, “what–! fuck–!” nicholas lips his lips from your sweet juices, his eyes are zeroing into yours. fuck. he feels so wrong for not letting you cum but, you are maki’s girl. “you’re up, man. eat your girl out like i just showed you.” maki exhales deeply before switching with nicholas, “i’ll do it better than you. no one will make my girl cum like i do.” 

“sure, dude.”

might extend this with the maki part and make it like a ramble?

back 2 maki catalog / back 2 catalog

[hello-sweetheart]

Eddie and his False King- steddie ficlet

“Tell me something about you that Robin doesn’t know.”

They’re lying on the floor of Steve’s apartment staring up at the ceiling reeling from an over indulgence of Chinese take-out. Steve is chewing on the end of a wooden chopstick after trying to teach Eddie how to use them (and failing). Eddie can feel Steve turn to look at him and pretends to be invested in the fortune cookie he’s fidgeting with.

Truth is, Eddie loves Robin—of course he does, Eddie wouldn’t have Steve without Robin. His Steve. Bright, funny, carefree Steve. He’s heard from the group how Steve struggled before he found a friend in Robin. He never met the Steve before Robin, not officially, but he remembers the dark cloud that had followed him throughout his junior and senior year, followed him all the way across the stage at graduation.

And then one day, he stumbled across the guy once more looking softer in way he never had. A lack of ego that was replaced by something tender. Somber eyes alight once more, not with the cruelty of before, but a steady happiness.

“Why?”

Eddie shrugged, “I mean, there’s gotta be something.”

Eddie loves Robin, but sometimes… sometimes it’s hard to share Steve with her.

Each time Steve tells a story, confesses something buried deep, or shares a secret, he knows Robin heard it first.

Whenever he wonders where Steve is when he’s not with Eddie, he knows it’s with Robin.

When Steve gave him a spare key to his apartment, he knows Robin already had a copy.

Hell, Robin probably knows all about their sex life. It’s easy to imagine Steve, naive and new to men, red in the face stumbling through his story of their first time together. Robin at his side reassuring him and easing his insecurities, even though Eddie already had.

Her words probably soothed him easier than Eddie’s ever could.

It’s not that Robin has ever invaded their time together, not unless it was an emergency, but still. Eddie is selfish. And.

Eddie is jealous of how close they are, he’ll admit it. He just wants a part of Steve that he doesn’t have to share with Robin.

“There’s one thing, but..”

“But?”

“You can’t make fun of me for it.” Eddie’s lip curled. “Promise!”

“Alright, alright.” He turned to his side to properly give him his attention. Steve’s eyes were sleepy from their large meal, impending food coma underway.

Eddie loves him so much it hurt.

“You know how people called me King Steve in high school?”

“Yeah…”

“And you know how it was Tommy that started it?”

“Sure.”

“Well, Tommy only ever called me that because when we were kids and our parents would take us out to eat, each time it was my turn to chose where, I’d always pick Burger King.” He admitted this with a sheepish grin.

“King Steve?” Eddie repeated in disbelief. The nickname now held a different weight on his tongue.

Steve groaned, “Yeah, King Steve. It was Tommy’s nickname for me. I was like 6 and obsessed with the chicken fingers. I’d wear the paper crown and everything—cried if they forgot the crown. Well, sometime around freshman year I had scored a winning basket and Tommy started shouting “King Steve! King Steve!” Before I knew it, others started shouting it back. It caught on and never really went away.”

“Wow…”

“Mm, I doubt it ever would have stuck if they knew why Tommy called me that in the first place. That’s why after, well, after, I know that it hurt him so much when I left. Cuz he would look at me and call me King Steve, not to mock the fact that fell on the food chain, but to mock how I ended 10 years of friendship over a girl.”

“But it wasn’t really over a girl.”

“Nah, he was just a shit person. Dont think he ever realized that. I hope he has. Besides, I like who I found after.”

“Robin?” Steve’s eyes soften but his gaze was focused and intense.

“Yeah, her too.” Oh.

“Come on, sweetheart. We’ll clean up tomorrow, but I for one, would like to nap on the bed instead of your carpet. God knows when the last time this was properly cleaned.” Steve squawked.

“I clean this carpet weekly! Properly!”

He really does. Eddie knows this. Steve is his own brand of freak with how neat and tidy he keeps things.

Eddie falls asleep with his nose buried in Steve’s neck, belly full love and grease. In his mind there now exists a new image, one of Steve tiny and slightly chubby with baby fat, legs swinging in brightly colored booth as he chews happily on a chicken nugget, fingers sticky with ketchup. And a paper crown skewed on a bed of chestnut hair.

[seasprincess]

season 1!bf Spencer Reid head cannons

fluff and nsfw

season 1!bf Spencer Reid who would get nervous from just your presence. you could be at a team dinner and he would glance over at you, eyes landing on your face. And he gets flustered. Blushing immediately and he has to look away. If he was to continue looking he wouldn’t be able to talk. He’d be a flustered mumbling mess.

season 1!bf Spencer Reid who would teach you to play chess. He wouldn’t care how long it would take until you got it. He would get a little frustrated with you but that would be because he knows you can do it and you are waiting like you can’t. But as soon as you get the hang of it you guys are playing. Him and his genius means he’ll win every-time but of course he will throw it so you win. He just likes seeing you happy.

season 1!bf Spencer Reid who absolutely hated that guys flirt with you. Of course if you were uncomfortable he would stand up for you. Even if it means he gets laughed in his face. But sometimes he gets insecure and will go quiet. Having to sit in the corner as some more conventionally attractive guy flirts with you. From then on he wouldn’t talk or be able to look at you dead in the eyes. He won’t tell you what’s wrong until you practically drag it out of him. He may even get teary. But you’d make him feel better with a few kisses and hugs.

season 1!bf Spencer Reid who rambles to everyone in the team even though no one listens to him. You would all be on the jet and he’d go onto one of his interests. Talking and talking until eventually coming to a slow stop as he realised everyone had either turned their backs to him or put headphones in. But then he’d feel your hand on his and see you looking. You’re listening. You’re always listening.

season 1!bf Spencer Reid who would love when you cook for him. He will be stood watching you the whole time, waiting until you ask him to taste it.

season 1!bf Spencer Reid who would hold your hand everywhere he could. It took some getting used to. He wasn’t used to being touched in a loving way. But ever since you first did, he thinks about the feeling. Perks of an eidetic memory. Whenever he was sad he’d just think about that. Think about you.

season 1!bf Spencer Reid who would come to you if he had a problem. You being more confident and not afraid to speak your mind meant you would cuss anyone out who would even look at him the wrong way.

season 1!bf Spencer Reid who would love kissing you. Like this man would always want to be kissing you if he could. You guys are always making out on one another’s couch. He of course didn’t know how to kiss and you had to teach him. But he’s a quick learner.

season 1!bf Spencer Reid who would buy you little gifts and leave them on your desk. He’d be all smiley when he watches you open them. He loves seeing you happy. It genuinely makes him feel the happiest he has. Especially when you throw your arms around him and hug him to say thanks. And don’t even get me started on your birthday. He would spoil you. Make the day perfect. Using his memory to remember all the things you said you wanted to do or wanted to be gifted. He’d be so thoughtful too. Not some crappy gifts. Meaningful things he spent months on preparing.

season 1!bf Spencer Reid who looks at you like you’re a prized jewel and he’s been searching for you for years. Cause he has. He’s always wanted to be loved and be seen. And you’re that person who loves and sees him.

nsfw

season 1!bf Spencer Reid who is pathetic when it comes to you touching him. You could just brush his thigh and he would moan or whine. And when you do touch him properly he is a mess. Nobody has ever properly touched him and loved him. So of course you’re sweet and gentle for him. And he loves it.

season 1!bf Spencer Reid who eats you out better than any man. He loves doing it. He could be there for hours and he’d be so okay with it. It would make him so happy to just be licking at your core.

season 1!bf Spencer Reid who used his eidetic memory for your benefit. He remembers what makes you moan loudest, what you told him he did good, what feels good for you. He really wants to make you feel good. Always above his pleasure.

season 1!bf Spencer Reid who is a sub with a mommy kink. There’s no doubt about him being a sub. He’s all shy and sweet he couldn’t be a dom. He’s tried but as soon as you just smile he melts. He’s a whining whimpering mess. The word ‘mommy’ has slipped past his lips more times than he’d liked. He is embarrassed at first. But you said you didn’t care. And that was the biggest relief.

season 1!bf Spencer Reid who likes praise and degrading. For a guy who’s inexperienced he has a lot of kinks.

season 1!bf Spencer Reid who loves your boobs. Like loves. Low cut top? He’s staring. Tight top? He’s staring. Normal top? He’s staring. So of course it wasn’t a shock when he asks to suck your nipples. He worked himself for days to ask, so who are you to say no?

season 1!bf Spencer Reid who’s always embarrassed when he gets hard. But you of course always make him okay about it. Always helping him out. Wink wink.

season 1!bf Spencer Reid who actually died first time you gave him a blow job. His hands were in your hair, grabbing and pulling. He didn’t want to hurt you but he just couldn’t help it. It felt so good. He never knew sexual acts could feel this good. But you showed him good.

season 1!bf Spencer Reid who at first wanted to take things slow. He was nervous of course. Always nervous when you’d even look at him slightly lustfully. But now? Now he always wants it when you get home. Not sex, no. That’s special and he wants that to be special but he wants you so bad. So he’s letting you use your hands when he’s had a long day at work. You suggested it once and my god did it make him feel better. So now he loves it. He’s completely different to the man who wouldn’t even let you clicking his stomach.

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ the "dying" wolverine ]❜

ft. logan howlett x gn! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ taking care of logan when he’s sick┊0.8k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: fluff, established relationship

➤ author's note: i’m feeling like shit so i’m making him suffer with me

what part of regenerative healing don’t you understand? it’s impossible for him to get sick in any capacity as his immune system is stronger than the adamantium in his body, so feel free to read any of the other logan fics written by all the amazing writers on this platform!!

but let’s say that he somehow contracted a special bug that managed to get past all that and managed to make him fall ill, requiring you to take care of him while wade goes on a mission to figure out what’s wrong with him…

this headstrong two-hundred-year mutant who can take stab wounds without flinching and is an invincible tank in battles will be the whinest son of the bitch. he always lets his guard down around you, but he’s the most vulnerable and immature that he’ll ever allow himself to be around anyone since he can’t remember the last time (or if he has ever in his life) felt so shitty. shivering despite being feverish and covered up in blankets which just made him sweaty and uncomfortable, an itchy nose that wouldn’t sneeze when he needed it to, coughing his lungs out every two minutes— it’s so alien to him.

when you finally show up to look after him, he’ll have uncharacteristically big puppy eyes as you gently place your hand on his forehead to gauge how bad it is. “how are you feeling, lo?”

“i feel like i’m going to fucking die.” there are several discarded tissues and water bottles overfilling the nearby trashcan, but it was clear that he had no idea how he was supposed to make himself feel better and suffering.

“i can tell,” you chuckle at how dramatic he sounds and it makes him frown, but he’s just so thankful that you’re here to take care of him (he doesn’t exactly trust al to do it, that woman is a bit too mysterious and cryptic for him, and the medicine she offered smelled funny even to his dulled senses). “let me go make you some soup.”

he doesn’t want you to leave at first because your cold skin feels so good against him, but he’ll lightly doze off for a bit now that he’s more comfortable and feels safer. don’t expect him to stay asleep for long though, he’ll get up from his little while you’re in the middle of cooking chicken vegetable soup to wrap his arms around you and rest his head on top of yours until you finish.

“why are there barely any vegetables in the fridge? i could only find half a carrot and wilted celery.”

“i don’t think anyone here eats that stuff.”

“logan, you need to eat your greens— all you guys do, how are all three of you in such good shape then?!”

“eh.”

he can’t make anything more complicated than butter noodles, wade sets nearly everything on fire, he feels slightly guilty eating the food made by an elderly blind lady when he’s already freeloading at the moment, and constantly ordering take-out becomes expensive. you’ve given some food in tupperware for him to eat up, but it isn’t quite the same. as if being sick didn’t make him miserable enough, he’s so fucking pissed that he couldn’t properly taste your freshly-cooked food and will make it known.

you scoff that it’s just soup and pour it out in a bowl for him to eat, but you’ll quickly find yourself spoon-feeding him. yes, his hands still work with perfectly fine motor functions. no, you’re not passing up the opportunity to baby him while he rolls his eyes (he’ll grunt at most and doesn’t say a word of protest, claiming that he’s merely allowing it since he’s too tired to fight with you over it and very glad no one could see it happening).

“here comes the airplane~”

“i’m a grown-ass man, don’t be ridiculous.”

“a grown-ass man without an ounce of whimsy in his life, open your fucking mouth and eat.”

this is one of the lower points in his life where he doesn’t quite understand why this is happening to him yet, so you obviously have give him as much affection as possible! keeping a cold glass of water nearby and a wet rag to dab on his face, he rests his head upon your thighs and you swear that you can hear him purring like a kitten. there’s not better pillow than his lover, soft, warm, and full of love as you hum a song to lull him to sleep.

“let’s get married one day…” he not sure how that slipped past his lips, it might be the fever talking for him, or the fact that he’s completely relaxed without any tension in his muscles and feeling himself falling in love all over again when you smile so sweetly at him

“okay, but you need to sleep and get better first.” you place a gentle kiss on his forehead until his eyes slowly drift shut, “i love you, logan.”

[bratbarzal]

Let It Happen (LH43) 3/3

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

WC: 17k

>PART ONE< / >PART TWO<

I'll spare you from everything, if you would still have me, I'll be waiting all my life

General Warnings: pining and longing and fluff galore!!! I think maybe sexual references but who remembers atp. angst (slut shaming, mentions of past relationships and I can't think of a better way to say daddy issues we've all been there)

A/N: we did it, Joe!!!! desktop tumblr really didn't want this to happen!!! I can't believe I finished this!! thank you guys so much for reading, and liking, and messaging me and reblogging and all the commentary, and all the love!!! I appreciate it so much!!

if there is a crossover of readers of on your side and readers of this fic (first of all ily) there is a little oys easter egg in here!! did I think through the logistics of this being set in the same universe? no. did I have fun anyway? yes. I fell in love with writing Luke in that fic so it was only right for me to add it in here!!

Happy New Year to everyone, thank you for reading my work!! 2024 was the year I finally plucked up the courage to write all my random thoughts down and the fact that it spiralled into this blows my mind a bit, but I'm grateful to be here!!

You can distinctly remember the first time you had properly taken notice of Luke Hughes, and it wasn’t back in the restaurant at the club like he probably thinks.

It had been early November, in your freshman year.

Ellie had finally convinced you to join her at one of the games at Yost, and you were bundled up in a coat two sizes too big, the only thing you had remotely close to team colours, and the only thing likely to keep you warm enough to tolerate a whole game and warm-ups.

You were watching the boys skate around, and he had caught your eye in an instant. 

“Who’s that one?” You had asked, pointing down to where number 43 was reaching out awkwardly to sweep up pucks with his stick. You could see the soft brown curls peaking out the back of his helmet from all the way in the stands, and his height made it unmistakable to realise that you recognised him.

He had come up to you at a Halloween party the week before, and if you hadn’t been so preoccupied by the fact that your only-just-ex boyfriend at the time was in the same room, his tongue down another girl’s throat, you might have been endeared by the boy in the dog costume. 

Friendly smile, boyishly handsome features and warm eyes that under any other circumstances might have made your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t the first time you had seen him - you vaguely remembered the gift basket, and you knew he was in a couple of your classes, but you had never really spared him more than a fleeting glance before that party. 

As soon as he had noticed your teary eyes upon approach, his demeanour had changed in an instant, and where anyone else might have backed off, might have been uncomfortable or deterred, done a u-turn and given up on his mission to approach, his expression had softened - worried and caring in a way that made your throat go dry, and you had to dash off to the nearest bathroom to splash your tears away.

“That’s Luke,” Ellie had told you, “Luke Hughes, Jack’s brother.”

“Oh,” You had pouted, disappointed. Jack had made it painfully obvious that he wasn’t your biggest fan the first time you had met him, and if you’re honest, you were hardly a great admirer of his, either. 

Ellie had noticed your expression, had nudged you with her elbow until you took your eyes off of the figure on the ice, and had narrowed her eyes right at you. “Why?”

“He’s in a couple of my classes, is all,” you shrugged, eyes travelling back and finding him in an instant.

“Luke’s cool. You’d eat him alive, though, probably get bored within a week.”

“I wasn’t thinking about him like that,” you frowned, watching him skate around the ice with the grace and enthusiasm of a clumsy puppy dog. Cute. “Just curious.”

“He’s waaaay too nice for you,” she scoffed, and you had tried to swallow down the pang of offence you had felt, knowing she had very little of your past to compare him to. The two of you had only been roommates for a couple of months at that point, and she had only ever seen you interested in your ex. “He’s also kind of a like a little brother to me. Dorky and annoying, but I’m very protective of him.”

You had bit your tongue at how patronising that had sounded, knowing Ellie was one of the youngest people of your freshman class - a July baby - and Luke might even have been older than her. 

“Like I said, just curious.”

You had noticed Luke a lot more after that, though.

A quiet, recurring presence.

A seat behind you in business comms, a figure against the wall in the corner of the room at different parties, on posters that lined the walls and the perimeter of Yost Arena, in articles you edited for extra credit in the Michigan Daily. 

You had even made small efforts to get him to talk to you - never being the type to make the first move, yourself - started talking to his friends, some of the guys on the hockey team, had made sure his name was on the list for your sorority parties, you’d even dropped your pen once in class, and he’d just handed it back over with a soft smile, never uttering a word.

You wouldn’t call it a crush, but it was somewhere around the borderline of that - especially looking back after the summer you shared with him.

And you think, in retrospect, that if he’d have ever made a move, would have spoken to you even just once after the incident at the Halloween party, you probably would have developed one.

You hate to admit it, now, but he had been right all those weeks ago in the restaurant. 

He’s kind of inevitable like that.

By the time he disappeared in your sophomore year that little spark of something had mostly fizzled out, but it didn’t entirely stop you unintentionally keeping tabs. Stats that cropped up on the sports channels, articles in the paper, posts on your instagram feed.

And you don’t know what you would call it, the way he kind of stuck with you, but when you’d seen him in that booth in the beginning of summer - when he’d spoken to you in full sentences, had met your eye and held contact in a way that sucked you in like a vacuum - you kind of felt that spark reignite.

The boy you almost, kind of, could have known, once upon a time, finally making the effort to get to know you.

And Luke Hughes is persistent. You have a detached admiration for just how much. He pushes, and he presses, and he perseveres until all your resolve is gone - resolve you’ve spent years mastering, with quick wit and snark protecting your heart from anyone who dares to take aim for it.

But that detachment is waining. 

Especially as you lay on your front on your childhood bed, the NHL awards playing on the TV in your room back at your mom’s house, and you try to busy your hands with the crotchet kit you had picked up from the mall before you came home for a couple of days. 

Your admiration is blooming and blossoming in the depths of your stomach into something intricate and uncontrollable. 

And it has nothing to do with his name, his career, the award he is nominated for.

It’s just him. 

Larger than life on your TV screen, but it still doesn’t capture him in his entirety, and you think for the first time that you miss him. You miss movies in his bed, you miss watching him from the passenger seat of his BMW, the sun shining from the window beside him, illuminating his profile until you burn from the glare. You miss his stupid jokes and his teasing smiles, and you miss the warmth in your cheeks when he looks your way.   

And it’s only been like 2 days.

You miss Luke Hughes.

You kind of think you missed him before he even left.

You might have even missed him before you knew him, but that would be crazy, right?

Maybe he makes you crazy.

Maybe you need this week to recuperate, to attempt to build those walls back up before they’re damaged beyond repair. 

Luke hadn’t given much thought to missing you before he and his brothers left for Vegas. He’d been so caught up, internally, about his and Quinn’s nominations, that he had thought it would continue to distract him the whole time they had been out there, but boy was he wrong.

All he remembers about his trip is thinking of you, and when the boys got back, and you had been visiting your mom for the weekend, all he could do was think of you more.

He thought of you when they sat at the table for dinner, and your place across from his was empty. He thought of you when he watched movies alone, thought of texting you some sort of commentary as he worked his way through the list of rom-coms you had given him, but you hadn’t texted him yet, so he gave up quickly on that idea.

He thought of you in bed, thought of the last time the two of you had been in there, together, and if he’s honest, he thinks of that almost all the time. Of messy kisses, wandering hands, and connection so deep he doesn’t think it will ever fizzle out. 

And when he finally sees you again, he thinks he might have to get Quinn to source some sort of defibrillator for the house, because he swears his heart stops beating.

You poke your head into his bedroom, a shy smile on your face, and your bag is still on your shoulder, which means he had been your first stop, before you’d even gone to drop your things in yours and Ellie’s room. 

He sees you in the reflection of his mirror, and turns immediately, clumsy fingers releasing the tie he’s been struggling to get right for a couple minutes, and steps toward you before he can even begin to tell himself not to seem so eager.

“You’re back!” He grins, and when your face lights up in return, he can hardly find it in himself to care anymore how down bad he comes across.

“Yeah,” you breathe, stepping into the room, discarding your bag by the door and shuffling toward him. “You didn’t have get all dolled up for my return.”

You reach to take both sides of the tie into your hands, and he feels himself go warm all over at the mere proximity of you after so long apart. 

“It’s my cousin’s wedding,” he tells you as you start to knot the tie, knuckles brushing slightly across his chest until he’s holding his breath, lungs expanding so that he feels your touch a little more. “They’re having their reception at the club, later, you should come down.”

“You’re asking me to your cousin’s wedding?”

“Not like that,” he chuckles nervously as he looks down at you, eyes focused on the task at hand. “Just, haven’t seen you in a week, wouldn’t want to leave you here alone, it could be fun.”

Not to mention the fact he’s been watching the door for the past two days while he’s been home, waiting for you to get back and hoping it would be before the event, and he could figure out some way to ask you.

“You can’t just invite a random person to your cousin’s wedding reception, Luke.”

“She said I could!” He reasons, frowning when you raise a brow at him. “Not a random person, she said I could bring a friend.” He grasps gently at your hands as they straighten the fabric, halting your movements. “We’re friends, right?”

“If you say so.”

That wasn’t a no, he thinks, courage building within him in such a way that he starts to buzz with it. That would definitely have been a flat out no, before.

“You’d be doing me a favour.” He bargains, still holding your hands against his chest. “Quinn and Jack are bringing Josh and Turcs, I’d be like a fifth wheel,”

“So what you’re telling me is that you have no other friends?”

“Sure, if that’s what tugs at your heartstrings.” He has plenty of friends he could ask. Eddy, Duker, Luca - they’re all in town. None of them would look as pretty in a dress as you would, though. He wants to say there’s no chance of any of them kissing him after a few cocktails, but that would probably be a lie. “C’mon, they’re not gonna be checking IDs at the bar,” he wiggles his eyebrows in an attempt to convince you, “The free bar.”

“I don’t have anything to wear to a wedding,”

“What about that blue dress you wore to the formal last year?”

He remembers his throat going dry at just a picture - frosty baby blue silk against glowing skin, hair falling past your shoulders, the prettiest smile he’s ever seen in every photo.

And that is where misplaced courage gets him, he thinks. Letting slip that he has been creeping on your Instagram like some deranged stalker, because where else would he have seen you in that dress? He’d been in Jersey, by then. Scrolling down his timeline and swiping at every photo dump in what he didn’t even realise at the time was an obvious attempt to catch a glimpse of you.

Idiot.

“That was Ellie’s dress. I think she gave it to the Goodwill or something.” You frown, barely even picking up on his slip - unaware to the point that his heart rate can level back out to normalcy.

“You’ve got time to go shopping, you could get another,” he shrugs, reaching into the pocket of his pants. “Here, take my card.”

“Gee, thanks, Daddy Warbucks,” you push at his hand when he attempts to give it to you.

“I’m not adopting you. I’m more like Richard Gere in Pretty Woman.”

“Are you implying I’m a prostitute?”

“No,” he scoffs, only because, unintentionally, he totally was, and now he can’t get the picture out of his head - you in thigh high boots, legs for days stood out of the blue skirt, and the white top with the cutouts, soft summer skin he’s been missing the touch of peaking through - and he starts to wonder if that would be too much too soon to ask of you; to dress up for him like that. Maybe for halloween, if the two of you have progressed past whatever this is, by then. Keep dreaming, Hughes, he can already hear you saying. “More like a sugar baby.”

“I don’t need your money.”

“I’m trying to do something nice for you.”

“You don’t have to buy me things for me to like you.” You pout, and his own lips curl up at your defensiveness - so eager to prove yourself to him over something he isn’t even actually pressing. 

“Because you like me already?” He can’t help himself, a small voice in the back of his mind telling him to push, push, push at your buttons until you practically malfunction - craving you in whatever disoriented state it was that he had seen you in last, pliant and willing and crumbling so nicely for him to scoop up and piece back together. “Because you missed me?”

He shouldn’t want that - want to have to hold you in place, that is, not really - but he does. He wants to be the one that gets you like that. The only one. 

“What time’s the reception?”

That should also have been a flat out no.

Interesting.

You give in so easily, then, to the point where Luke gets giddy, letting you know when and where he wants you - always and anywhere, if he’s honest - and you roll your eyes as you agree, but you stay right in front of him long after you’ve finished with his tie, and he’s so tempted to kiss you that he’s buzzing with excitement. 

He sneaks a kiss to the corner of your mouth - quick enough that you don’t push him away, or make any sort of comment about it, and darts down the stairs at Quinn’s calls for him, leaving you to figure out whatever it is you need to do to be ready for later.

And he thanks his lucky stars that later comes before he has the chance to really dwell on it. His day passes in a blur, the ceremony over in a flash, family photos taken before he even realises he doesn’t need to force a cheesy smile, and only brief moments spared over the course of the early afternoon to think about the things he’s lacking.

As he sits in the church between his brothers, he realises that he wants to be sitting with an arm slung around you and a hand in your lap - your fingers swirling absentminded shapes into his palm as the two of you watch the ceremony side by side. Wants to look down at you staring up the aisle in bewilderment, a soft flush to your cheeks, a dopey grin on your face and a far-off look in your eyes. Wants to mutter stupid jokes in your ear and watch you twist your lips to bite back a giveaway smile. 

As he rides over to the club in the back of Quinn’s car, sandwiched between Alex and Josh with his brothers up front, he thinks he’d kill to have you in his lap - as illegal as that may be, but it’s only 5 minutes, and he’d make sure you were safe with an arm curled around your waist.

And when he’s waiting in the reception hall at the club, the late afternoon ticking into early evening, hearing speeches about falling in love and finding your person, he wants you in the seat beside him. Wants to rest his arm on the back of your chair, play with loose strands of your hair or stroke soft fingertips against your warm skin, and press gentle kisses into your temple.

It’s alarming how quick these thoughts consume him - his college years spent pining, his summer spent basking in whatever attention you choose to give him - and he can’t help but let himself be carried away with the hope of it all, that maybe he is wearing you down enough to give in to such thoughts.

Especially when he sees you walking in, and he swears the world has started moving in slow motion like a scene fresh out of one of those rom-coms you keep trying to subject him to.

His legs stretch without any instruction from his brain, pushing himself up onto his feet until he can make his way over and meet you halfway.

Your eyes light up and your hand lifts in a nervous wave as you start heading straight for him, the action causing the thin spaghetti strap of your dress to fall down your shoulder. 

“Hey,” he breathes out, in what feels like relief, mouth breaking out into a dreamy grin until you’re right in front of him.

“Sorry I’m a little late, it took me forever to find a dress, and then my hair wouldn’t go right, and then the Uber took every back road known to man despite me literally telling him,” Luke reaches to readjust the fallen strap as you talk, fingers trailing ever so slightly against the soft skin of your shoulder, “That I knew a quicker way, and then we ended up at those lights over on Palmer for like 10 minutes, I think I was in that car so long I’m all crinkly.”

His eyes drop slowly down your figure, the silky fabric clinging to your curves in all the right spots, the soft yellow a perfect match to the tie around his neck. “You’re beautiful,” he reassures you with ease, cheeks flushing ever so slightly when your eyes meet his - but he’s used to that, by now, the way his head goes hot when you look at him. “I was gonna get a drink, do you want one?”

He extends his hand out to you in invitation before you even nod in response, and when your fingers slide between his, the heat that is swirling around his head and face starts to spread down, past his neck, into his chest, settling there as the two of you make your way over to the bar. 

This last week without you has been hell.

Sat in his hotel room in Vegas, checking his phone for any sort of update - a text, an instagram post, a story - and wondering if that night before he had left had been playing on your mind the same way it had on his. 

Soft, slow kisses pressed into reciprocated lips, hands memorising every inch of each other’s bodies, desperate but intentional movements into one another. It was hardly his first time, but God, had it felt like it. It was definitely the first time he had ever felt anything that deep for another person - felt so connected, so attached.

And, despite the lingering insecurity that he thinks he might always feel when it comes to you, he knew you felt the same.

You had told him in the simplest terms - you wanted him - but you had shown him so much more. Eyes stuck on his as he moved against you, foreheads pressed together, lips seeking his at every given opportunity, nails scratching at the broad expanse of his shoulders when he had taken the lead and flipped the two of you over. 

Gasps and moans, pleading and pining, begging and singing for him as you came undone for the first, second and third time. 

He doesn’t know how you can possibly even try to carry on pretending you don’t feel even an ounce of the infatuation he does.

Not when you look at him the way you do, eyes sparkling and wanting. Not when he had spent the past week pressing his fingertips into the bruises you had kissed again into the lowest part his stomach like that had become your spot, hoping he could aggravate them enough to linger until you could make some more. 

Not when, even though the two of you have been stood at the bar now for a good few minutes, you haven’t made any efforts to take your fingers from where his are playing with them between the two of you.

“You never answered my question, earlier,” he hums as the two of you wait for your drinks.

“You talk so much, Hughes, you’re gonna have to remind me which question that was.” 

“Did you miss me?” His head tilts with curiosity as he watches the hesitation cross your features, lashes fluttering as you look up at him with your lips pressed together to keep them from spluttering out the truth. “I missed you.” He admits, in the hopes that expressing his candour might elicit the same in you.

“I’m surprised you found the time, you looked very occupied on your brothers’ stories.” Bingo.

“You been keeping tabs on me?” The smirk that accompanies the question is instinctual, and he manages to catch the slight shift in your demeanour before you can retreat, closing his fingers around your hand before you can pull it away. 

“No,” you scoff, and when you pull insistently for him to release your hand, the strap of your dress falls loose down your arm again, Luke’s eyes following before he fixes it for you once more. “Just stumbled across some pictures, I guess,”

“Yeah, you just tripped and fell into stalking me?”

“Don’t act like you weren’t doing the same, I saw those little 3 dots come up so often I was starting to think you were typing up the entirety of War and Peace.”

Which means you’d been lingering in your message thread with him, too. Gotcha.

“You know, the world won’t end if you just admit you missed me.”

“Fine.” It slips out before you know what you’re saying, eyes widening like a deer in the headlights as you realise you’ve already given in. “I missed you.”

He smiles, but doesn’t press, and it’s a smile that lingers as the two of you just look at each other, his eyes drifting down to watch your lips twist and press together, biting back whatever insult or chirp you’re just dying to throw his way to cover up. He waits for it to come, but loves that it doesn’t, and loves even more that you’re holding onto the moment as much as he is. 

“Do you wanna dance?” Luke asks a while later, once the two of you have gulped down a couple of drinks, have sat with the others for a little, and he’s watched you watch the dance floor with a yearning gaze.

Your eyes meet his after he poses the question, a confidence in his demeanour that has you crumbling immediately.

You nod, allowing him to guide you over to where a few other couples are swaying on the dance floor, and you let him guide you into his arms, one hand in his and the other resting on his shoulder. 

It should be awkward, you think, remembering back on all the times you’ve tried this before. School dances and proms, clumsily shuffling and trying to avoid being stomped on by your partner’s feet - but the two of you move with ease, and you’d like to think it’s because his body knows yours by now.

“This is so weird,” you mutter, eyes cast down to watch his feet move in his fancy Oxford shoes, a soft flush to your cheeks.

“What do you mean?” He asks, nerves heightening as he stiffens like he’s waiting for you to let him go - to step away and cut this short like it doesn’t make you feel the same way. 

“Slow dancing is for old folk like war veterans and millennials.” Your lips twist as your eyes meet his, and his lips turn up into a slow smile, a deep, melodic chuckle following closely behind.

“If you’d rather bump’n'grind on me, I get it,” he smirks.

“You’re such an idiot,” you scoff back, twitching to shake the hair from your shoulder, assuming that’s what is causing the shivers currently shooting down your spine, and not the large, possessive hand resting in the dip of your waist. 

“Y’know, I’ve realised something about you lately,” he starts, voice low as he leans in, angling into your exposed neck and stopping his lips within mere inches of your ear, “You have a tell.”

“A tell?” You turn, brow raised as your gaze meets his, faces close enough that you can feel the soft pants of his breath on your skin.

“For when you’re enjoying yourself more than you think you should be,” he hums, his eyes fluttering a little as they drop to watch your mouth, the swipe of your tongue wetting your lower lip. “You call me an idiot,” his hand on your waist squeezes ever so slightly, your back arching a little into his touch, “Or stupid,” he uses his other hand, the one clutching at yours, to pull you closer, “Or dumb, or a dork.”

You can feel your heart thudding at the call-out, beating in time to the music, in time to the way your bodies sway together, creating it’s own rhythm for the two of you to dance to. 

“Maybe you’re just a stupid, dumb, dorky idiot.” You squeak out, immediately hating the way the words taste in your mouth, your face souring and eyes narrowing in deliberation. There’s no way that was at all convincing, and the smirk that tugs up his lips is all you need to know he sees right through you.

“Maybe,” he humours you, anyway. “And yet, you can’t get enough of me.”

“A smug dorky idiot.” You correct yourself, cutting out stupid and dumb, the sharpness of those words cutting at your tongue like a knife. 

The pointlessness of such discussion almost waters down the exhilaration you feel at being this close to him, in public, nonetheless, where literally anyone else could call you out on your growing tolerance of Luke, could connect the dots regarding all the time the two of you have been spending together and wave the evidence of your growing affection like a chequered flag for all to see.

This definitely feels like you’re crossing the finish line.

And, of course, it’s Jack who does the honours, primed all night to find some way to get between you and Luke upon your arrival, stumbling up to the two of you at the end of the song you’re swaying to and laying a heavy palm on your shoulder.

“Isn’t this cosy?” 

“Fuck off, Jack,” Luke scowls before you get the chance, a pointed glare directed towards his brother, the palming grip at your waist growing faint as you try to wedge a little distance between the two of you, fighting a losing battle with your instinct to run and hide. 

“I need to talk to your girlfriend.”

“I’m not his-,”

“She’s not my-,”

The two of you speak simultaneously, and despite the fact that you were saying the exact same thing, him saying it kind of dampens your mood, putting a good couple of steps between you and Luke with your arms crossing over your chest as you look toward his brother. 

“Whatever. Can I borrow her for a couple minutes?”

“I’m not property, Jack, you can ask me directly.”

“Please can we talk? Alone?”

“Let’s go outside,” you huff, storming off before he has the chance to say anything else and making it all the way outside before he speaks again. 

“Sorry for interrupting, you and Luke looked kind of cute-,”

“What do you want?”

“I’m sorry I said you were messing him around, and that you were toxic.” 

You frown at him, watching as he diverts his gaze to the ground, nervously shuffling on his feet and fingers fidgeting with the cuffs on his shirt. 

“I’m sorry for all the things I said and did at that party, I didn’t mean them, I was just drunk and upset. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

You chew nervously on the inside of your cheeks as he talks, arms wrapped around yourself to shield from the brisk night air, and you watch as Jack starts to unravel before your very eyes.

For as long as you’ve known Ellie, for as long as you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him as anything less than cool, calm and collected - it’s kind of the main thing that grinds your gears about him if your honest, the fact that he never seems real. Like he’s putting on some sort of persona to seem like he has all his shit together, when you know he doesn’t.

“I really like Ellie, you know,” he sighs, and you scoff, because of course you know that. “And I was blaming you for putting this wedge between us when it’s really me that’s been fucking up.” You know that, too. “I’ve been thinking about her this past week, and I really wanna pull myself together and finally do something about it. Stop being such an idiot.”

You bite your tongue from questioning the reality of that. He’ll always be an idiot, you think, but that’s best left unspoken. It’s not even personal to him, that’s just part of being a man.

“She likes you too,” You tell him instead, despite the fact that it goes against all sorts of girl code to do so. You’re doing them both a favour, and the universe should really just let you off, you feel. “I don’t know why either of you have wasted so much time when you’ve both felt the same way all along.”

“You really think she’d say yes if I asked her out?”

“I do,” you shrug, “And it doesn’t need to be done on some romantic boat trip or some crazy elaborate scheme, you should just ask her when she gets back next week. Like as soon as she comes through the door, it will save us all a headache.”

“You sound like Luke.”

“Yeah, well, he’s rubbing off on me, I guess.”

“I don’t need to hear what the two of you get up to when you’re alone, that’s my little brother.”

You reach over and shove at his arm, and for the first time ever, when your eyes meet his, neither of them are narrowed. He’s smiling, and you’re smiling too, and it feels a little like a weight has been lifted from your chest, fresh air filling your lungs.

“Let’s go back inside, Luke’s probably thinking we’ve killed each other.”

“I’m just gonna take a second, it’s kinda stuffy in there.”

Jack nods, before making his way back to the reception, and you make your way over to the fountain, heels working through the gravel until you take a seat on the side. 

It’s a couple of minutes before you hear footsteps, and before you see the fancy oxfords come into your view, eyes roaming up the long, lean body of the boy who has your brain running marathons.   

When your eyes meet, his gaze is warm, and it feels like he can see right through you. Like he’s looking into the depths of your mind, holding a big cheesy sign as he waits at the finish line for your thoughts to come to an end.

He sits wordlessly beside you, his knees knocking against yours, and waits for you to speak - although the silence doesn’t feel awkward, or forced. He waits, patiently and understandingly, and you feel like he’s giving you the time to figure out what you want to say. 

It feels monumental, this moment, like you’re teetering on the edge of something real and honest for the first time in a while.

“The other week, when we,” your voice feels heavy, thick at the back of your throat, “You know,”

“I was strictly advised to forget about it, so no, I don’t know,” he teases, and you’re kind of thankful that he’s trying to ease the tension you’re building for yourself. “But if you wanna jog my memory.” You shove lightly at his shoulder. “I’m kidding. What about it?”

“I’ve never really done that before?”

“What, snuck a guy up to his room in the middle of a house party and rocked his world?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” You scoff, smiling to yourself, despite the weight of all that you’re about to admit to him. “I’ve only ever slept with one other guy, and he wasn’t very nice about it after, so I just,” you frown, “Don’t really do it.”

“You don’t-,” he frowns too, you can see it from your peripheral, eyes till on the hands fidgeting in your lap, “But I thought-,” You look over and meet his eyes, brows furrowed and lips parted in confusion. “What?”

“The first guy, Jamie,” you start, twisting to face him, knees knocking once more. “We started talking in the summer before my freshman year, got to know each other ‘cause he lived one town over from me and he’d come into work all the time, and then when I started college he was a sophomore, and he was the first guy to ever take, like, a serious interest in me. And we had a lot in common, he was on the soccer team, we grew up in the same area, we got on really well, it was the first time I ever really felt connected to anyone like that. But I’d never done anything before, so I wanted to take things slow,”

Jamie Reeves. Captain of the University of Michigan Soccer Team until he tore his ACL at the end of his last year, ruining all dreams of playing in the MLS, like it was entirely achievable for a player of his caliber anyway. You had been infatuated by him, though. The kind of infatuation that a younger you might have doodled little hearts around his name in all your notebooks.

And then he turned out to be a complete leech.

“Please don’t tell me he rushed you into it.” Luke straightens his posture, reaching to place his hand over yours in your lap, the touch immediately comforting, and his concern even more so.

“No. Not exactly.” You sigh, hating how dramatic you feel about the whole thing. “We went on dates, and things were going really well, so I figured I trusted him enough to be my first, then after we had sex he just went really off. He wouldn’t take me out anymore, wasn’t putting any effort in. And then people started asking me all these questions about him, and what we did, and I realised he was going around telling everyone all the details, like I was just some conquest he could tick off to the boys on the team.” You remember how ashamed you had felt, eyes on you in every corridor, whispers about you in every class. You couldn’t leave your dorm without someone muttering some obscene comment about you, and you just felt awful. “Every time one of them saw me they’d make all these dumb comments, and I just felt dirty all the time, like I’d done something wrong. Then I went to a party at Pike, the one at Halloween,” The party that Luke had approached you for the first time since you met, and you had stormed off in tears - not due to him at all, but due to the fact you had just seen Jamie sticking his tongue down someone else’s throat, mere days after you had seen him last. “And he was all over one of the girls on the field hockey team, didn’t even look my way again after that, not that I really wanted him to.”

“You haven’t been with anyone since?”

You shake your head. “Doesn’t stop people saying I have, though. I tried dating a couple times, but it always ended up the same way, rumours being spread about me sleeping around and being easy. And it’s so dumb, ‘cause it’s like I trusted one guy, and somehow it keeps backfiring on me.” You pay no mind, for the first time in a long time, to the crack in your voice as you say it, no longer afraid of showing any hint of vulnerability. Not to Luke. You need to get this out - get it out of the way, once and for all, so you can move past it. Move on, even, with someone you hope won’t treat you the same.

“Does that mean you trusted me?” 

You try not to think too hard about all the times the two of you have shared any level of intimacy - the physical touch mostly initiated by you, and it’s hardly ever on a whim. You think a lot about Luke, if you’re honest. About how he’s honest, and he sticks by his word when he promises not to tell anyone anything. How he always tries to make you laugh or smile, even if it’s something stupid. He isn’t afraid to embarrass himself with you, isn’t afraid to give you power, to let you take the lead. And even though sometimes he jokes otherwise, the times you hang out, he has no ulterior motives. He likes talking to you, likes watching movies with you, likes meeting your eye in a crowded room and giving you one of those smiles that have started to make your heart stutter with something unidentifiable.

“I guess so.” Your shoulder lifts in a nonchalant shrug, your words anything, but. “I don’t know, I’ve been thinking about it since and I can’t explain why it happened but I feel like you and me are-,” 

Connected? Compatible?

You know what he would say you are. You don’t know if you’re there, yet.There are so many things the two of you have become over the past few weeks, so many things you’ve wanted to be for longer than you even realised, so many things you’re afraid to say.

“I feel like out of everyone, you’d have no reason to lie to me. Or about me.”

“I wouldn’t. I didn’t know all that stuff,” he frowns, and it seems like his mind only just makes sense of all the times you threatened him after the fact, making sure he wouldn’t tell anyone that the two of you kissed, or hung out alone in an intimate space and maybe potentially enjoyed yourselves. He had thought you were ashamed of it - but all this time, you’ve been protective. Of yourself, of the trust you were building in him. “Why don’t you tell people, that those guys are all lying?”

“No one would believe me,” you shrug, eyes cast down to where his hand still rests on yours, and his touch prevents you from picking nervously at the skin around your nails.

“I do,” He assures you, “And I promise the next time I hear anyone say any of that stuff about you, I’ll beat their face in.”

“Yeah, you’d drop gloves for me?”

“Look at you with your hockey talk.” He coos, lifting a hand to caress your cheek, where you had barely noticed a tear trailing down until he wipes it away with his thumb, a proud smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. I would. We’re partners, remember? I’ve got your back.” He extends his pinkie out to you, and you curl yours around it until he’s tugging it toward him, leaning down to press his lips to your knuckle, his kiss like a promise as his green eyes meet yours. 

It doesn’t gross you out, this time. If you’re honest with yourself, it hadn’t the first time he did it, either. It was cute, in an entirely dorky and childish and almost nostalgic way.

And you’re compelled to do the same, leaning and touching your pouted lips to his pinky, eyes fluttering closed as you kiss his skin, the rush of blood to your head somehow louder than the steady stream of the fountain beside you. 

“Listen,” he starts, lowering his hand but keeping your pinkies interlocked, resting them between you both on the stone. “If whatever this is that we’re doing makes you uncomfortable, or brings all that stuff back, I can back off a little.”

Something akin to disappointment floods through your system, your heart rate picking up in a panicked staccato, but you try to stay cool - still, for whatever reason, holding your cards close to your chest. 

“I can make sure my brothers don’t make any more stupid comments about us, they’re doing it to annoy me, not you. And I can,” he takes a deep breath, eyes flickering between yours as if to gauge your desires before he has to reluctantly pander to them. “I can stop, too.”

You nod, because it’s all you can do to shake away the tears threatening to flood your lash line at just the thought of him giving up on you. 

It’s the lump in your throat that blocks the words coming out to tell him as much, and your lips twist in discomfort as you take in the way he’s looking at you - gaze filled with dwindling patience and waining resilience. There’s only so far you can continue to push him, you can see that now, and if you’d have told the version of yourself that first sat down with him all those weeks ago - the version of yourself that refuted any chance of ever warming up to him, that saw him as nothing more than an annoyance, a disturbance to your tips for the day - that the thought of him stopping whatever you have would make you feel like this?

That cold-hearted bitch would have laughed in your face. 

“Hey, lovebirds!” There’s a shout from across the courtyard, and Quinn  appears in the distance with hands cupped around his mouth. The intrusion has you retracting your hand, and you can see the way Luke reacts in your peripheral, a resigned nod given instinctually before he looks over to his brother. “I’m driving home if you two want a ride!”

Luke doesn’t look back at you before pushing himself up, but he offers a hand to help you stand, and the two of you walk in silence to meet Quinn by the exit.

The car ride back to the house is silent, too, save for the soft hum of the radio that filters through the car. Josh sits up front with Quinn, head lulling against the window as he falls asleep worryingly quick, and you’re squished in the middle between Luke and Alex, Jack having stayed back with their parents. It’s hard not to press your legs against Luke’s - his are so gangly and long that they take up more than their fair share of room, and it’s much less awkward despite the circumstances to be touching him than touching Turcs. You feel a lot less tense when you’re touching, anyway. 

And when Quinn pulls up, Luke still helps you out of the car - ever the gentleman, even in the face of apparent rejection.

Quinn and Alex work at lugging an overly inebriated Josh up to his room, leaving Luke to guide you through the house, and the silence starts to become unbearable as he whispers a quick and quiet goodnight, leaving you at the door to yours and Ellie’s room as he makes his way down the hall.

“Hey, Luke,” you call out in a whisper toward him as he retreats, his tall frame turning, a gleam of what you interpret as hope flashing across his green eyes.

“Yeah?” He hums back, voice low as not to disturb anyone else, gaze meeting yours, locking in place with an almost audible click.

“I don’t want you to stop.”

You’re worried for a second you’ll have to expand, that maybe his slightly intoxicated memory doesn’t stretch as far back as to remember the conversation the two of you had had out by the fountain. 

Elaborating on it would be embarrassing to say the least - because what, exactly, are you supposed to say?

I don’t want you to stop flirting with me.

I don’t want you to stop kissing me when no one else is around.

I don’t want you to stop being the only person I can talk to.

I don’t want you to stop bulldozing into my very secure and sturdy walls, thank you very much. They’re starting to tumble down in what could be a very calamitous fashion.

Worried you might have to expose a little more of yourself than you had originally anticipated, you chew at the corner of your lip, waiting.

But then he smiles - in that easy way that makes your bones feel like jelly, your knees weakening to the point that you lean against the still-closed door of your room. In the way that has that loudmouth voice you’re trying too often to suppress within you screaming, God, he’s so cute!

“I know,” he smirks, the bastard, liquid courage running deep through his veins, “Inevitable, remember?”

You scoff, almost instinctively rolling your eyes despite the endeared warmth that floods your belly. “You’re an idiot.”

“I know,” he says again, “You coming?”

And all you can do is nod, biting back a fully-fledged smile before you’re rushing over and slotting yourself under his outstretched arm.

You definitely enjoy him more than you should.

Living with boys for the first time in your life has taught you a lot over the weeks you’ve been staying at the lake house.

The first is that they’re weirdly messy - in ways that shouldn’t bother you, but they do. It isn’t clothes left around, or dirty plates - but it’s hand soap crusted around the spout by the faucet, shoes kicked off and discarded at random points throughout the house, and they, for some bizarre reason, never put the lid back right on anything.

The second is that they’re loud - and that should have been anticipated. Guys are notoriously obnoxious. But it isn’t just their voices that carry. It’s footsteps up the stairs, stomping in the dead of the night when one of them needs a drink. It’s chewing their food, or slurping their coffee, or scraping the feet of their chairs against the floor when they’re sat at the dining table. It’s tapping their hands on their knees in haphazard rhythm whenever there might be an ounce of peace that they, without a doubt, misunderstand for awkward silence. 

And the third is that they probably couldn’t organise a fire in a match factory. And that goes for a lot of things - the kitchen cupboards, their laundry loads, and, most importantly, one of the many parties they love to throw.

It wouldn’t bother you so much - they usually work out in the end - but this time, it’s Ellie’s birthday, and the way they leave everything until the last minute is about to give you an aneurysm or something. 

There’s no food, no drinks, no cake, no decorations, and the party is tonight.

And Jack, who’s grand idea it had been to throw her a party in the first place, seems to have kidnapped her - disappearing and leaving you to try and figure out what’s going on.

Cole is the one who finds you in the kitchen, spiralling out, frantically trying to put together some kind of list so that one of the guys can go to the store and pick up the bare minimum to throw a party together - and he manages to calm you down - gathers the rest of the guys and helps come up with a plan, sharing out different categories. Quinn and Josh are down to get drinks, Cole and Alex are down to get food, and you and Luke are down for decorations. 

And then within the next five minutes, you’re back up in your room, transferring things from one of your bags into a tote, so you can carry more stuff back to the car without having to bring back a load of plastic, and Luke is sat on your bed, leaning back onto his hands as he watches you, green eyes still tickling your skin with their tangible watch. 

“I know we’re on a time crunch, but could we make another pit-stop at the mall? I still need to find a present for this baby shower.”

“Oh, actually, I made you something.”

“You made me something?” You can feel him watching you as you dig through the bag you’d brought back with you from being home.

“Yeah, I was bored, when you guys were gone, I forgot to give it to you when you got back, got kinda distracted by the whole wedding thing,” you tell him, reaching blindly to try and find the little figure. “I went by that art supply store and picked up one of those kits,” You finally find it, pulling out the little crotchet animal that may or may not have been your fourth attempt. The first had a stubby neck, the second had uneven legs, and you don’t think the third one’s face was anywhere near appropriate to be gifting to a child. This one isn’t perfect, but you’d honestly reached your limit with it. “Don’t make it a thing, it was like therapy while I was back home to be honest.”

“Oh that’s adorable.” He pouts, accepting it from you and immediately turning it back, bobbing it’s head as if to greet you. “Why a giraffe?”

“Long neck,” you smile, reaching out to pat it. “Reminded me of you.”

“Ha ha,” he rolls his eyes, but the laughter feels real enough. “She’ll love it.”

“She?” It slips out by instinct before you can check yourself, eyes widening as his meet yours again, his lips twitching in the corners. “Thought you said it was for your captain,”

“It is.” He smirks, “Men can’t carry babies last time I checked.” 

You nod, because of course men can’t carry babies. Of course the shower is for the mother of the baby - who you vaguely remember Jack and Luke talking about - someone who works with them back in Jersey. Someone they’re both close to, clearly, if Luke’s stressing this much about a gift.

“Wait, are you jealous?”

“No.” You scoff, frowning purposefully, lips turning down in forced denial.

“You’re jealous.”

“Am not.”

“You want to take this back now, huh?” He holds the giraffe in a way that it bends, adorably, like he’s trying to taunt you with it, and it’s wonky eyes do little to distract from the charm he gives it.

“Nope.” You shrug, “You can give it to whatever girl you want, doesn’t bother me at all.”

“Of course not,” he stands, stepping toward you slowly, “You couldn’t care less what I do away from this house, right?”

“Right.” You gulp, looking into soft green eyes, your legs starting to wobble at the knees, strength and integrity waining as the seconds pass. You really don’t know why you’re still keeping this game up. Ever since that night of the wedding, you’ve been sneaking off into Luke’s room as soon as Ellie falls asleep. You fall asleep by his side, and he wakes you when he gets up early, so you can sneak back without Ellie realising you’ve even gone.

You’ve kissed him every day, sometimes tender, sometimes torrid - over the centre console of his car when he drops you off at work, in his bed before you drift off to sleep, in the kitchen when you sneak off under the ruse of refilling your drink. He can tell the difference between the flavours of lip balms you wear, comments on it like he has a little ranking system filed away somewhere in the back of his mind. You both whisper your secrets in the dark of the night, and you had promised him that you would try to open yourself up more to him.

“I thought we were past this,” he hums, stepping closer, voice low in a way that buzzes through your bones. “Thought we were being honest with each other, now.”

“Honest?” You ask, voice weak, neck craning now to look up at him, eyes boring into your own as he advances on you. 

His hand reaches to cup your jaw, to tilt your head just that bit further, and presses his lips straight to yours instead of elaborating any further.  

He’s tentative, at first. Gentle, even. Fingertips ghosting along the side of your neck, pulling you closer, less with any physical force and more so with pure magnetic attraction, your skin humming - buzzing, even, to be touched by him in any which way. 

Your chin tilts as your mouths slot together in a soft, slow kiss, and when his lips touch yours, everything else fits perfectly into place. The fingers of his left hand press firmly into the flesh of your hip, now, using a slight force to manoeuvre you how it suits him - as close as he can physically get you - and those on his right reach around enough to slightly curve towards the back of your neck, applying just enough pressure so that your chin angles upward to deepen the kiss, his tongue pressing a pleading invitation into your bottom lip.

An invitation you immediately grant him, your hands finding their place on his body with ease, one flat against the warm expanse of his chest and the other matching his, soft fingertips grazing the skin of his neck until they tangle in the slight overgrowth of curls at the nape.

Everything feels so fluid, so effortless, and yet, so new - like this is the first time you have kissed, an eruption of fresh feelings bursting through you. There’s still a familiarity that lingers - one of ease, where it’s like your bodies have each other mapped out, already. You know every cell of him and he of you, and it’s evident in the way the moment escalates.

Your bodies naturally gravitate towards the nearest surface, his fingers reaching out behind your hip to soften the blow of him pushing you into the dresser, your back arching, feet moving in sync as not to tangle and trip, or stumble and break the kiss.

But there’s nothing else clumsy about it.

He lifts you with ease, the cold surface only a slight shock to the system, and it brings you to the perfect height where he can seamlessly move his kisses from your lips, past your jaw, down your neck and into the crevice of your collarbones, leaving a trail of the sticky residue of your lip balm. 

Strong hands cup your thighs, parting your legs until he can stand between them, and your fingers bury themselves into his curls, pushing into him however you can. 

When his fingers graze the inside of your thigh, his lips part from the hot skin of your clavicle, and his head tilts slightly until his darkened green eyes meet yours.

“Please,” you breathe out before he can even ask, beyond caring for whatever particles of pride you’ve been desperately trying to cling to when you watch his lips curve slowly into the most panty-dropping smirk you think you’ve ever seen.

“Please what?”

Your lips part as if by instinct, a biting remark fizzling out on the tip of your tongue as your mind works for some kind of comeback, for some semblance of resistance to whatever this version of him is, but there’s nothing. Just a frantic plea for him to do anything to you. Whatever he wants.

Your hips shuffle forward as if led by a mind of their own, trying to force his hand up, only for him to follow the movement of your thigh.

“Touch me,” you find yourself pouting, spikes of heat flashing through you at the way you can see the thoughts crossing his mind, of all the ways in which he can torture you - putty in the palm of what you thought were safe hands.

“Tell me you were jealous,” he prompts, leaning forward to press a teasing kiss to your lips, “Tell me that the thought of me even talking to another girl makes your skin crawl.”

Don’t let him get cocky, a voice prevails in the back of your mind, despite the accuracy of his words. Tell him he’d have to have an ounce of game for you to be remotely worried, tell him the only thing that makes your skin crawl is his incessant need to mouth off all the time. Tell him, tell him, tell him!

“I was jealous,” you breathe out instead, chasing the victorious smirk that stretches across his lips in the hopes you can kiss it away.

Jealous of a girl you’ve never met, in a relationship with another man, pregnant with his child, not remotely interested in Luke.

A girl who gets to see him all the time, who knows him probably in ways you might never, who he cares enough about to want to gift her something meaningful. Who he casually texts and smiles at his phone as he’s doing so, who he and Jack talk affectionately about in ways they’ll never talk about you.

You’ve officially lost it. 

“And if you don’t touch me in the next 3 seconds,” you carry on, scrambling to claw back one single iota of your dignity, your hands gripping at his broad shoulders, “I won’t let you touch me again.”

Luke laughs. Practically snorts at you, eyes crinkling in the corners in pure amusement. Your dignity is long gone.

“1,” you start, your voice shakier than you’d ever like it to be, and his hands move to either side of your hips, clutching at the edge of the dresser.

“2,” you didn’t think you could sound worse than before, definitely longer than a second ago, but you’re quickly proven wrong as you watch him leverage that grip to push himself upright, creating a distance between the two of you that drains all the heat from your body.

“3.” he finishes, taking a step back and watching you with unadulterated hunger in his eyes, daring you to follow through with your threat - and the smug idiot knows you won’t.

He knows it’s coming, even anticipates the way in which you pounce on him, arms ready to catch you when you throw yourself down onto the ground in front of him, landing with a quick thud that jolts you straight into him. Hands at either side of his face pull him down, and he does half of the work in bending his back so it isn’t as clumsy. 

You tangle yourself up in him, legs twisting between each other until you’re stumbling toward the bed, and it’s as soon as you get your fingers back into his hair, as soon as his hands are pushing your top up, grazing at the warm skin of your back, that you hear a call of your name.

You falter back from him just as the door swings open, managing to create a reasonable amount of distance as Ellie swaggers in, voice still raised as she asks, “Have you seen my-,” It’s Luke that she sees first, eyes zeroing in on his flushed face with pin-point accuracy, her brows furrowing as she takes him in, heaving chest and messy hair and all. “Lip gloss?”

Lip gloss? Is she joking? 

“You came all the way back up here for lip gloss?” You ask, still slightly breathless and brain fogged, and feeling very much like you’ve just put all your chips on the table and watched them get swept away in seconds. 

You watch as Ellie’s eyes dart to Luke’s mouth, watch him grow conscious of the balmy coating smeared across his lips, and you feel your heart stop in it’s place, your chest squeezing in anticipation of a thump thump thump that doesn’t come.

“No,” she mutters, diverting her attention back to you with a sobering shake of her head. “Balm,” she corrects, “The kind with SPF, I think I’m burning, I didn’t realise me and Jack were gonna be gone all morning.”

“Uhm, yeah,” you breathe, reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ears in the hopes it helps cool your head down, some. “I have some in my bag.”

Your tote is on the dresser you had just been placed on yourself, and you use the opportunity to dig through it to will the burning sensation in your ears away, levelling out your breathing as you root around for a tube of lip balm you know is in there somewhere.

“Could you check for my car keys, too? I was thinking we could drop by the mall for lunch. Catch up” She adds, with a forced wiggle of her brows, clearly what she had actually come up here for, and you fish those out too, throwing them across to her. “Quinn’s looking for you before you go, Luke, something about a list.”

“I should go check what he wants,” Luke mumbles, putting another few steps of distance between you before he offers an awkward wave, and departs the room with heavy feet that you hear stomp all the way down the hall, the last thing you see of him being a skinny, lopsided crochet giraffe poking out of his back pocket.

Apparently Jack’s plans of keeping some element of surprise for the party had gone out of the window as soon as he had got her alone - and you’re kind of grateful for the fact.

Keeping secrets from Ellie is stressful - you of all people would know, you’ve somehow managed to keep a pretty big one from her all summer - and she usually has a way of figuring things out on her own.

You probably would have folded to her - just the two of you out together, sipping smoothies in the food court at the mall - if he hadn’t already filled her in one the plans for the night. 

It makes up a little for his lack of effort, earlier - especially now that your hands are clear of it. You don’t know how much you trust the guys to put something together while you and Ellie are looking for an outfit for her, but you have no choice but to leave them to it. Jack had reassured you he had everything under control, and despite the absurdity of that statement, it’s nice for that panic you had been feeling earlier to have been flushed away.

“I think tonight’s the night,” Ellie sighs dreamily, elbow resting on the table and her chin in the palm of her hand, “We had this really deep conversation while we were out walking, and he pretty much told me he has feelings for me, he was really nervous, it was kind of cute.”

“I’ll take your word for the cute thing,” you chuckle, sipping at your smoothie and smiling at how happy she looks. It’s nice to hear, her having hope about the situation for once, instead of dread or fear. 

“He said you two spoke at his cousin’s wedding,”

“It was nothing,” you shrug, “He didn’t need any interference from me to realise he likes you, El, he just needed a nudge.”

“I can hardly call you out on interfering,” her lips twist, nervously, “I’ve kind of been doing the same.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you think I’ve been hanging out with Cole so much all summer?”

“Cole?” You frown, leaning back into your chair, “You’ve lost me.”

When you’d last spoken to Ellie about Cole, she had told you they just got along, and there was nothing more to it - and you had no reason to believe otherwise. When you and Luke had been in the midst of your own interference, and you had been playing third wheel to their hangouts, they had been getting along. Almost like siblings. Cole never flashed her those flirty winks or toothy grins that he gave everyone else. 

“He’s into you.” She says, finger swiping in the ring left behind from her smoothie cup on the table, “And I was kind of giving him advice on how to approach you. I figured you wouldn’t mind, ‘cause he’s like your normal type, and you seemed like you liked him-,”

“I’m sorry, you think I like Cole?” 

You’re taken aback. You don’t remember giving any sort of indication you were ever into Cole Caufield.

Maybe you could have been, before this summer - would have probably fallen victim to his cheeky smiles or his teasing banter. He’s probably closer to your usual type, if you even have one. Confident, with a presence that sort of demands attention. But you realise, now, your attention should be earned - in more than just a flash of cute teeth and boyish features.

In dumb jokes told just to bring you out of a bad mood, and a car with the AC dialled up waiting for you after a shift on a hot day. In hands that offer you help before you ever have to ask, and eyes that see so far beyond what version of yourself you try to put out there.

You could have liked Cole, in another world, or another life, if another boy wasn’t around. 

“I did until I walked in on you kissing Luke, earlier.”

You blink slowly at her, mouth agape as she stares blankly back. 

What the fuck?

“I wasn’t kissing Luke,” you scoff, denial making your face twist in funny ways that you can even feel look deranged. “We were talking.”

“Into each other’s open mouths?” She snickers, “Unless he’s been digging around in our stuff when we’re not around, I can’t think of any other reason he’d have left the room with Summer Fridays Vanilla Beige smeared all over his lips.”

“It was Brown Sugar, actually.” You correct her, guiltily, hoping the words you mutter next through pouted lips don’t quite make it to her ears. “He says it’s sweeter.”

“Oh my God.” She guffaws, mouth agape and eyes wide in realisation. “How long has this been going on?”

“Nothing’s going on,” you deny, although you can feel heat creeping up your neck, already. “We just get along-,”

“We get along, and you don’t welcome me home with an open mouth.”

“Ellie-,”

“Listen, he’s not just some guy that you can mess around with, he’s way deeper into you than you probably realise, and-,”

“I like him, okay?” you blurt out, voice just loud enough to be heard over her rambling but not enough to carry anywhere else, and the silence that follows is almost deafening - prolonged in a way that you can’t even remember if you said anything, or not.

But the way Ellie is looking at you tells you enough.

Why is everyone so caught up on you breaking his heart?

As if you aren’t putting the entirety of yours on the line.

“Luke?” She asks, like the two of you haven’t just been talking about him. “You like Luke Hughes?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, leaning onto your elbows and pressing the palms of your hands to your face, eyes scrunching tight to try clear up some mind space to make sense of what it is you’re admitting to.

It makes sense already, to you. Verbalising it is the problem.

He’s charming, he’s funny, he makes you laugh, most times unintentionally but that doesn’t make your feelings dwindle in the slightest. 

He’s weirdly passionate about that one horse movie and won’t shut up trying to get you to watch it with him, but it’s endearing in a way that you want to kiss him to shut him up. Or maybe even watch it, God forbid.

He literally never stops eating, but it’s like his body is in tune to yours now, and he always makes double if he feels like you might be hungry so you don’t ever have to ask, which is weirdly sweet.

When you lay beside him in the middle of the night, you don’t feel pressured to do anything other than talk.

And when you do, he listens to you - retains information and checks up in a way that makes you feel seen, makes you feel a way you haven’t in a really long time. He doesn’t talk over you, or dismiss your feelings, or try to change the topic when things go a little too deep or get a little heavy. He shares the load, asks questions that make you think and process things in a new way, and he isn’t patronising when he does so. He doesn’t say things that sound like they’re straight out of a Psych 101 textbook like your feelings are valid or what makes you think that?

And he compares your wildly different worlds in a way that doesn’t feel like a competition. His troubles aren’t worse than yours, his life isn’t harder.

You’re equals.

You’ve never felt like anyone’s equal, not even Ellie.

It’s like with all the other parts of your life that make you hurt, make you feel small and insignificant - they fade away when you’re with Luke.

His corner of your world is bright - despite the seemingly inexhaustible snark-meter constantly ticking between you two - it’s easy, doesn’t weigh down on you or make your chest feel tight, not in that way, at least.

You’ve been introduced to a whole new influx of feelings in your chest by Luke.

You can give in to the ugly side of yourself that wants to bite at him until there’s nothing left, to push whenever he gets a little too close, and you don’t have to worry that you’ll scare him off or push too far, ‘cause he’ll just pull you with him and bite back - only, it doesn’t hurt like when anyone else does it. Somehow, you think he savours the parts that other people might spit out - chews and swallows and rubs at his belly in satisfaction like you’re the best meal he’s ever had. 

Despite all the other things that have shattered your heart, Luke Hughes makes it feel whole, again.

And it should make you feel sick - lovey-dovey stuff like that usually does, your walls shooting straight up at the first sign of affection from anybody, metaphorical sneakers on and carrying your legs as far and as fast as they can run - but this doesn’t.

You don’t want to run from Luke, not really.

“I thought you said he was dorky and annoying.”

You’re pretty sure she had been the one to say that, at some point, but you don’t remember arguing the fact, so you don’t bring it up.

“He is.” You pout. He’s also apparently inevitable. “He kinda crept up on me, I guess.”

Ellie is quiet for a minute as she watches you, eyes narrowing as she takes you in - shoulders slumped, lips pouted, defeated.

“Why not just tell him, then? Why hide it?” She asks, leaning onto the table too until your faces are level when you peak up at her, “You know he likes you back, right? He’s got the biggest crush on you, it’s borderline problematic.”

“I don’t know, I don’t really understand why he likes me.”

“Does it matter?”

It does. You don’t want to keep running, but you can’t really help it. There’s something ingrained deep within you that is trying to shelter yourself from all the ways in which succumbing to these feelings will inevitably hurt you.

“Luke’s way smarter than me, and he’s way more successful, he’s kind and he’s generous, he comes from a great family, has this great house, we have literally nothing in common, and he doesn’t see that now because he just thinks he’s attracted to me, and he likes that I don’t just fold to him because he’s some superstar, but the second that’s gone,” you sigh, trying to swallow down the hurt in your voice, blink away the onslaught of tears, “He’ll just get bored of me like everybody else does, and then he’ll be gone. And I’ll just be some girl he broke up with and left behind, and that’s all I’ll ever be.”

Ellie frowns, a strained mutter of your name called as her hand falls to yours in an attempt to comfort you. “You’ll never know if you don’t try, babe.”

“No, I know.”

It’s all you’ve ever known.

Men who start off treating you like some prized possession - cherishing you, making you feel valued and loved - and the second the shine wears off, the second something even newer, even brighter, even sparklier, crosses their path, they’re gone.

And you’re left behind wondering what it is about you that keeps driving them to leave.

It happened with your dad, with his new wife and their perfect kids - the boys he always wanted, who he never had to force himself to like. The dream family he abandoned you to pursue. It happened with Jamie, with all the girls he saw after you, with the way he never even looked your way again, even after all the secrets you shared, and the promises he made. With all those other boys who never saw you as anything more than a fabricated story to spread for a few brownie points with their buddies in the locker room.

It will happen again.

These feelings you have for Luke - the comfort he gives, the contentment, the ease in conversation, the warmth he bathes you in until your skin prunes and he seeps in through the cracks - they’re better kept to yourself. It’s easier that way, to keep this whole heart under lock and key, not giving anyone a chance to break parts off and keep it for themselves.

It’s almost perfect the way it is.

Safe, even from the clutches of the boy who pieced it back together, brick by laborious brick.

“There isn’t long left of the summer, anyway,” you go for a nonchalant shrug, but your shoulders feel heavy, and it turns out more like an arduous huff. “I doubt he’s shy of female attention back in Jersey, he’ll forget I ever existed before he even knows it.”

“You should talk to him,” Ellie suggests, “At least let him know where you stand, even if it’s to tell him things can’t go further.” 

The thought of it is too daunting. Looking into those gleaming green eyes and laying your heart on the line.

You can pretend all you want to Ellie, to yourself, even, that you wouldn’t want more, but you don’t think you could keep up the show with him.

“He deserves at least that.”

And damn it, she’s right.

Maybe he even deserves a proper chance.

Luke never thought he’d regret kissing you for any reason, but he’s wishing he had practiced some restraint up in your room, earlier.

If he hadn’t advanced on you, had let you pack your bag and got you out of the house before Ellie and Jack got back, he could have followed through on his plan of action for the day.

A plan he’d been hyping himself up for, all week - getting you on your own, talking things out, maybe even asking you out. Properly. Not just dinner at the mall, but a real date. Planned, perfected. A fancy dinner, or a trip to the movies. A picnic blanket laid out somewhere with a nice view, and an abundance of your favourite snacks. 

He wants to kiss you without having to hide it, anymore.

He wants to walk with you tucked under his arm. Wants to have you in his lap when there’s too many people over at the house, and the group are struggling for space on the couches in the den. 

He also sort of wants peace of mind, but what’s that compared to not having to sneak around, anymore. 

He’d made his mind up in the morning, waking up beside you at 5am, rousing you from your sleep with soft mutterings of your name, and lips pressed to your cheek until he could feel you smile. 

“Hi,” your voice had been croaky, and your movements slow, shuffling against him as your skin became illuminated by the soft glow of the rising sun slipping through the gap in the curtains. Your legs had been tangled with his under the sheets, and you did little to untangle them, and he was tempted to lock his so that you couldn’t. 

“Hey,” he mumbled, lips still moving against your skin, nipping at your cheek, your jaw, your throat, and your fingers rose until they clutched at the back of his hair, curls wrapping around them as you held him in place. 

“What time is it?”

“Around five,” his own hands landed on your waist, slipping under the hem of your tank, and trying to savour the warmth of your skin, your body hot from being against his all night. “Figured you’d need to be a little earlier today with it being Ellie’s birthday and all.”

“Thank you,” you used your soft grip on his curls to tug, until his face left the crook of your neck, and you blinked softly, smiled sweetly, and he felt his heart beat at twice the normal speed. You leant up and kiss him, straight on the lips, and he smiled against you just as you pulled away. 

He felt cold all over as soon as you detached yourself, and he rolled onto his side to watch as you stood, arms raised to stretch and lifting the bottom of your tank top to rise up your belly.

He felt robbed. Like he deserved longer with you, and it had been as you crawled back over your side of his bed, and had kissed him once more before leaving, that he had decided he needed to do something about it.

His original plan had been to steal you away at some point in the night, everyone else too distracted by the party to notice or care, but being teamed up with you to go get decorations seemed like it would work too.

Until Jack came back and fucked his plans up.

Jack said that he would go get the food with Turcs, that he had already paid for a cake, and he had to show his ID when he picked it up. He said Ellie shouldn’t have to do anything, and that you would be the best person for her to do nothing with, which left Luke picking up decorations with Cole.

It wasn’t that he minded Cole’s company, but Cole isn’t you.

He probably could have tucked Cole under his arm as they walked side by side through target and picked up a bunch of of banners and streamers, given the logistics of their height difference, but it wouldn’t have been as cute.

He has managed to get a lot of unexpected information though. And of course, his only thought is that he can’t wait to share it with you. 

Cole tells Luke how he and Ellie have only been hanging out all summer to make Jack jealous.

He bites his tongue to refrain from telling him that sort of trick doesn’t work on his brother, but Cole seems too pleased with himself for Luke to rain on his parade, and he finds it kind of funny that everyone’s been working to get the two of them to wake up to their feelings, not just you and him.

Cole might have even ended up putting more effort into it than you and Luke did, acting as a go-between for Jack and Ellie, and raising the stakes for both of them to make a move.

“And what do you get out of any of that?” Luke chuckles as he works at taking the banners out of their plastic wrapping, Cole taking the plastic and putting it straight into the trash.

The smile drops as soon as Cole says your name, though, and Luke’s hands stop in place. “Ellie’s been giving me insider info. I’m primed and ready to make a move.”

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Luke frowns, “You like her? Since when?”

He tries not to let the panic stirring in his chest reflect on his features, but it’s hard. 

Cole and Ellie had been hanging out for a long time, now. He can’t have been into you that whole time, right? Not without saying anything to anyone else - Cole is kind of mouthy, like that. Word would have got back around to Luke if Cole’s liked you for months. 

“Since I met her. She’s a really cool girl, really funny.” Cole scoffs, hand reaching out for more trash. “And she’s, like, one of the hottest girls I’ve ever seen, you know?”

Of course Luke knows. He’s seen the most beautiful sides to you - soaked head to toe from a garden hose, eyes crinkled from laughter, or the aftermath, curled up on a couch with just-dry hair and heart opening up to him for the very first time. In an orange baseball cap and a Mets jersey, twirling as you exit one of the fitting rooms you had found in the mall, a big cute grin on your face as you allow yourself to dorky with Luke, and only with Luke. Sat out on the fountain at the club, skin bathed in the glistening moonlight and your heart thumping in the palm of his tender hands. Laid beside him in the early hours of the morning, soft snores falling from between your lips and hair splayed out against his pillow.

But he can’t exactly say that to Cole - who has apparently been working to pursue you this entire time without Luke ever catching on.

“Ellie says I’m her type, so I don’t know why I’m stressing about asking her out-,”

“Out like on a date? Like you want to date her?”

Luke knows he sounds like an idiot without Cole giving him the weirded-out look he gives, but he’s starting to lose out to the dread that is flooding the pit of his stomach. He stumbles to follow Cole out of the kitchen and into the living room, where they had set up a step ladder before to hang the decorations.

“You really think I’d be trying so hard if I didn’t?” Cole scoffs, “Catch up, Luke, I’m trying to end my summer with a girlfriend-,”

“She’s hardly girlfriend material.”

The words taste sour in the mouth that moves before his brain has time to think - sour enough that he has to try not to grimace, wishing he could suck them back in and swallow them back down like they never came out. 

“What do you mean?” Cole asks, his features dropping into a frown. “I thought you two were getting along.”

“We are,” he agrees, despite it seeming like an understatement, but words are starting to pour out before he can filter them, and he can already feel himself getting carried away. “And she’s a nice enough person, don’t get me wrong, but I just don’t think it would work out with her like that.”

“You think she’d be hard work?”

He knows you are. But he likes you that way. He doesn’t want anyone else to worm their way into your good graces like he has. 

“Yeah,” he huffs, “She’s always out, and always flirting with guys at the club, you’ve seen it.” He knows he’s pulled that out of his ass, but what else is he supposed to say?

“I think she’s just fishing for tips, Lukey,” Cole chuckles, and Luke’s cheeks flush with humiliation at the pet name. He feels small, like he’s just something that Caufield can steam roll straight over without much protest. “Can’t blame her, some of those guys have deep pockets.”

“I’ve just heard stuff, you know.”

“Like what?”

Jesus Christ, Cole, he thinks, wishing he’d just take his word for it and get over you, already. As if it would ever be that easy. He doesn’t particularly enjoy saying these things out loud - using the words you had so carefully confided in him against you - but there’s a panicked desperation creeping up within him, becoming possible to ignore, and it’s cancelling out all other rational thoughts in his brain. 

The second you find out Cole Caufield is interested, you’ll no longer have any need for Luke.

Luke, who your every conversation with starts or ends with some sort of bickering argument, who annoys you to no end, who riles you up like it’s what he was put on this very Earth to do.

Cole is charming, he’s always had an ease when it comes to talking to girls that Luke never quite found in himself, and he’ll win you over in no time - and that’s if you aren’t interested, already.

But Luke is building up to that.

He’s been building up to it all summer.

Even before then, without entirely knowing it. 

The two of you have something, even if you refuse to admit it. You wouldn’t have kissed him all those times, otherwise, wouldn’t have come to his bed in the middle of the storm those weeks ago, and almost every night since he came back from Vegas, wouldn’t have slept with him before he left, wouldn’t have begged him to give in to you - not if you weren’t interested in him.

You’ve shared parts of yourself he knows no one’s ever seen, and he can’t let that be for nothing. 

But now the rug is being pulled out from under him, and all he can do to cling on to the edges with an idiotic possessiveness that curls his upper lip and brings his heart to a screeching stop. 

“Like how she’s with a different guy every week at Michigan. Apparently she gets around.”

“Oh,” Cole frowns, and Luke watches as his face turns, his own fists clenching at the urge to take it all back, to defend her and call Cole out on his immediate shift despite it being his own fault. 

He’s made his bed, now. He has to lie in it.

“Ellie didn’t mention all that stuff.”

“She’s hardly gonna call her friend easy.” Luke scoffs, and he thinks the way the words are spat out of his mouth is some sort of reflection of the way his lips don’t want to say them. Like they’re disgusted that his brain would even conceptualise them enough to be spoken. “Especially when you were doing her a favour with the whole Jack thing.”

“I don’t know man, I think you’ve got the wrong idea of her.”

Luke rolls his eyes as Cole makes his way back toward the step ladder, banner in hand, jaw tensing as he scrambles to think of something to stop this.

“She’s not the kind of girl you date,” he manages to call out, despite the tremor in his voice, every fibre of his being fighting the words from being spoken. “And there’s like a month left before we all leave for camp, so if you were to start anything, it would just be for the summer, anyway.”

“Jack and Ellie have started something with just a month left.”

“That’s not the same thing, they’ve been into each other for years, they text and call all the time, nothing’s really changing for them except for a label, you really think you’re gonna keep that up after just a couple months of knowing her?”

He reaches out for the other end of the banner and holds it as Cole positions his side, lip tugged between his teeth and a frown on his face as he mulls Luke’s words over. 

“You’ll be in Montreal, and she’ll be here, and you’ll be focusing on hockey, and training, and you won’t have time to keep up something serious with a girl you barely know.”

He tries not to think about how it’s the same distance to Jersey - an almost 2 hour flight - and how he’d be doing the exact same thing, swept up into the season before he knows it and potentially doing nothing but letting you down. 

“And you know what she’s like, she’d find something to argue about with a monk, for God’s sake,” he scoffs, brows furrowed so hard he can feel the tension in his forehead, “All you’d get from her is an earache. She’s not worth it.”

Cole turns to narrow his eyes at Luke, but something else over the top of his head catches his attention, instead, and the surprised muttering of your name turns Luke’s blood to ice.

Frozen in place, eyes wide, heart thudding in his ears, he waits with bated breath for something to happen - for Cole to break into a shit-eating grin, and tell him he’s just fucking around. For the ground to swallow him up. For anyone - literally anybody else - to respond.

But your voice carries straight over to him. Travels through his ears, ricochets around the cavern of his skull, shoots down his spine and makes his legs go numb.

“We uhm,” your tone is shaky, and Luke, for the first time, maybe, ever, hates the way you sound. “We were just checking if you needed a hand with the decorations.”

He turns slowly, and it’s Ellie’s eyes he meets first. Pointed, narrowed, betrayed, even, she glares at him like he’s just kicked a wounded animal right in front of her. 

“You can’t decorate your own party,” Cole laughs from behind Luke, as Luke’s attention drifts slowly your way. 

His eyes meet yours, and he can see the watery glaze over them from across the room. Can see your throat working to gulp down your hurt as your lips twist.

Ellie says something in response, and he vaguely hears Cole speak too, but all that he can focus on is the blood rushing around his head, a whooshing and whirring that makes him feel like his ears are about to pop, or his brain is about to explode. His lips part to speak, to say something, anything, to explain what you had clearly overheard, but your gaze drops to the floor, and he sees your walls build back up right before his eyes, brick by brick, cementing themselves back in place.

He’s such an idiot.

He’s such a monumental asshole.

The last time he had seen tears in your eyes had been sat by the fountain at the club - he had wiped them away, and had promised you he had your back, and you had just caught him having anything but with Cole. And all that after you had told him why you had ever been hesitant to let anyone in the first place.

He doesn’t think he’s ever messed up like this.

He steps forward, unsteady on his feet, and you step back, still not able to look him in the eye again, before turning on your heel and making your way upstairs.

Luke hears the stomp of your feet as you go, watches Ellie go after you, wishing it could be him, and stands, motionless, until he feels a firm pat on his back.

“Don’t worry, man,” Cole says, “She’s cool, she’ll be over it after a couple of drinks.”

Luke doesn’t even think he says anything coherent when he responds, a grunt or a grumble - it can’t have been words, because he can’t even form them in his brain. 

“I’m gonna ask her out tonight, anyway,” Cole chuckles, “So what you said won’t even mean anything.”

Great.

He’s just fucked things up with one of the greatest people in his life, the girl of his dreams, and it doesn’t even mean anything.

Not the kind of girl you date. 

Not worth it.

All that from the boy who supposedly had your back not that long ago. The first guy in a long time, maybe even ever, to make you feel secure, and safe, and like you could trust someone again.

Luke thinks you’re an earache. 

He thinks you’re argumentative, and only worthy of a brief, summer fling - that keeping up anything with you when he goes home would be a waste of the time and energy he should be dedicating to hockey.

And he’s probably right, you think.

It’s only what you’ve been telling yourself in the back of your mind all summer. Self-deprecating thoughts about how he’s far too good for you, and you’re only interesting when he can’t have you, and he’ll get tired of you before you can even realise he’s already drifted off.

Ellie had told you all the way back in your freshman year that the two of you weren’t a good fit. Jack had been telling Luke the same all summer. And you had only just managed to convince yourself otherwise on the drive back to the lake house from the mall.

You can hardly blame him for being two steps ahead.

You think that’s why you can’t bring yourself to cry - the sting of tears prickling persistently but never pushing through, eyes watering so much you can’t even put on mascara without the fear of it trickling down your face and ruining the rest of your makeup.

You’d tried crying, before. Had ran up to your room and had sat on the other side of your bed, hidden from the door and knees pressed to your chest. Your breath had stuttered, and your lips had trembled, but the tears wouldn’t fall, try as you might to have made them.

And when Ellie had found you, had sat beside you with an arm stretched over your shoulders, you had tried, then, too.

And it would be your luck that as soon as you press the inky substance into your lashes that they would finally fall, so you’ve been sat trying to wish them away for the past ten minutes - the tube clutched in a death grip in your hands as you sit at the makeshift vanity you and Ellie had set up all those weeks ago when you had moved in, taking deep breaths and willing the hurt to go away.

It’s where Luke finds you after knocking with no response - you barely remember hearing it - shuffling wordlessly into the room and perching himself down behind you on the edge of the bed.

You see him in the mirror, your eyes darting away before his can meet them in the reflection, and you stiffen your shoulders, bracing yourself for the blow.

“I didn’t mean any of what you heard.”

You breathe out a humourless chuckle, bitterness settling into the pit of your stomach and your lips trembling with resistance. 

“I mean it, I don’t think those things about you, I promise, I-,”

“It doesn’t even matter,” you cut him off with a roll your eyes, pushing the mascara tube toward the mirror and figuring you’re just gonna go without. 

“I was panicking, and it just came out like word vomit, and I feel really sick about it, and really stupid, and I wish I could take it all back-,”

“I said it doesn’t matter.” You meet his eyes this time, trying not to fall for just how distraught he looks behind you in the mirror. 

“Of course it matters,” he frowns, and you look away as soon as he pushes himself up, knowing he’s coming for you. “I need you to know that I would never have said those things-,”

“You said them, Luke,” you scoff, “What do you mean you would never have said them, you literally did.”

“I know-,”

“It doesn’t matter-,”

“Can you stop saying that!” He frowns, appearing at the side of you, hands gripping your shoulders to get you to face him. “I’m trying to explain this to you, I’m trying to fix things, and you’re-,”

“What, giving you an earache?”

All those weeks ago, the backs of your legs sticking to the bench in the booth in the restaurant, leaning over the table and sparring back and forth with him, you had convinced yourself that he liked it.

That the glint in his eye was indication of as much, the twitch at the corner of his lips, the way he would bite back without a second to think about it, and had matched your every effort to get one over on him. 

You had thought the two of you had something real. Something you had never found with anyone else. Quick wit, and similar senses of humour, shared boundaries, a mutual level of respect. 

You had thought his persistence had been something that would stick.

And clearly, you thought wrong.

He whispers out an utterance of your name that hurts like fingers wrapped around your throat - clenching and squeezing until you go hot in the head.

“I keep saying it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t, Luke. You were right, we wouldn’t have been able to keep this up past the summer, anyway.”

Luke’s brows furrow your way, eyes darting between yours as his lips part to speak, but nothing comes out.

“You’re going back to Jersey soon, I’m going back to school, it was fun while it lasted but things have run their course.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“We both do.” You shrug, wearing your feigned indifference like armour, just like you know so well to do. “You don’t say the things you said on a whim, Luke, some part of you has to believe that they’re true.”

“I don’t-,”

“I’m giving you a chance to cut things off with no hard feelings-,”

“No hard feelings?” His disbelief cuts through you a little, the hurt in his eyes and the scrunch of his features, too, but if you give in, now, you’re setting yourself up for a world of hurt. 

You had barely just built up the courage to give your heart to him, in whatever shape he had scrunched and squeezed it into before, and he had already managed to bruise it. Giving in will only result in it breaking. 

“I have feelings. I have feelings for you. And I know you have feelings for me, too, you can’t pretend you don’t-,”

“It doesn’t-,”

“It matters.” You don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound like this - so sure, so serious, so raw - and when he takes a hold of your face, hands cupping your jaw, tender but firm, and forces you to look at him, you see the same in his features. “Cole is into you. And he said he was gonna ask you out, and I panicked trying to convince him not to. I should have had faith that you would have turned him down. And I should have been honest, and I should have told him that I’m into you. More than into you, I think I-,”

“I wouldn’t have turned him down.”

You lie with such ease that it makes your heart ache more than the truth, but it’s the only thing you can do to protect it.

If you let Luke carry on, you’ll let him back in.

You can’t let him back in.

Not with the tears that now well his eyes, or the way his face drops like you’ve just struck him in the gut - pained and powerless.

“What?”

Your hands shake in your lap so much you have to clench them shut, knuckles turning white as Luke’s touch slips from your skin. 

“If he asked me out, I would have said yes.”

Luke runs a hand through his hair, blinking repeatedly before he tears his gaze away from yours, and you feel like you can see his walls building - a sight that should flood you with relief, but doesn’t.

“So, what, everything we’ve been through together, all the things we’ve done, all the things we’ve said, you’re just gonna throw it all away like none of it matters?”

You can hear the hurt - can feel it even, clawing at your skin as if it’s trying to find a way to dig past the barriers you’ve put in place. 

But you have to do this.

“I guess not.”

Luke was always going to hurt you. Was going to burrow himself through whatever cracks you left bare to him, weasel his way into your heart and tear it from the inside out. And maybe you were always going to do the same to him.

“Alright then,” he mutters, robotic and distant, with his eyes stuck on the floor. 

He stands from where he had been crouched beside you, backing away before turning completely, and he walks away in long strides, the door to your bedroom closing with a soft click behind him. 

The tear that falls when he’s gone does so slowly. You feel it trail all the way down your cheek from the corner of your eye, until it drops, almost audibly, from your jaw and onto your lap. 

And then the rest follow, uncontrollable and unrelenting.

Inevitable, just like he had said.

A/N: so...... please don't hate me I wrote the ending first lmao!! I imagine this will cause riots in the streets tbh but please let me know what you think hahahah this whole story has become my baby!! she's problematic but she's mine!!!!

THE SECRET OF US, the sequel, now complete 💕

[secretlyazombi3]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ Dating Head Cannons (Resident Evil Men) .ᐟ

leon kennedy, carlos oliveira, chris redfield x gn! reader head cannons (separate)

๋࣭ ⭑⚝word count:  1.3k

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ SFW, fluff, gender neutral reader, just random head cannons ! no proofreading so sorry if there are mistakes ( ˶•ᴖ•) !!

---------------------------⊹ ☾ ♱ ཐི𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀིཋྀ ♱ ☽ ⊹----------------------------

Leon Kennedy .ᐟ

(post raccoon city)

╰┈➤His love language is physical touch, he tries to sneak it every chance he gets. He’ll snuggle you tight and kiss your forehead once you fall asleep before him, play with your hair, put his hand on your shoulder when you sit together, try to hold your hand whenever he’s near you. 

╰┈➤Whenever you mention feeling sick, even if it’s something as small as a headache, he’ll check your forehead temperature with his hand just to have an excuse to touch your face.

╰┈➤Although he loves physical touch, he usually waits for you to initiate it. 

╰┈➤He’s protective over you. If you have to walk around at night for any reason, he’ll be there by your side, acting like a scary guard dog. 

╰┈➤He likes taking care of you but he also likes being taken care of. He tends to neglect taking care of himself, he’s busy a lot with missions, he doesn’t eat properly, his spaces tend to get messy, he neglects his health. So, he loves it when you make him proper meals, help him tidy up, make sure he’s taking care of himself better.

╰┈➤He remembers small things, if you mention liking a certain snack you’ll suddenly see it in your guys’ pantry more often. 

╰┈➤ He likes showing off his muscles and his strength to you, not necessarily in a cocky way, but in a way to show you that he’s strong and capable of keeping you safe. (and also because he knows you like his body)

╰┈➤Definitely a fancy dinner date type of guy. He always pays the bill, he doesn’t even let you get the chance to try paying. 

╰┈➤Likes to playfully flirt with you, he’s always making stupid one liners towards you that always manages to make you smile. 

╰┈➤Doesn’t WANT to come off as overbearing, but he sometimes does. He knows that his job can bring unwanted attention to you from people trying to get to him, so he gets defensive when strangers attempt to approach you. 

╰┈➤Follows you around like a lost puppy. He’ll come into whatever room you’re in and sit besides you, not saying anything, wanting to enjoy your presence. 

╰┈➤Doesn’t over do it on pet names. He mostly will just call you by a nickname to show affection. He’ll occasionally call you babe, lovely, sunshine.

╰┈➤He knows you hate it when he leaves for long missions that drag on for weeks or longer, so he tries getting you a little gift before he comes back home. Could be a perfume/cologne you mentioned liking the scent of once, jewelry he knew you’d like, or even just a bouquet of roses and a box of chocolate. Anything to make you feel even happier when he returns. 

Carlos Oliveira .ᐟ

╰┈➤ He flirts. A lot. It’s impressive sometimes how he manages to always find a way to quip back with a flirty reply to literally anything you say.

╰┈➤He remembers your interests and will use that for date ideas. If you mention liking a certain coffee shop, he’ll ask you on a date there. If you like art, he’ll take you to an art museum or a painting class. He’ll take you out to the theater if a sequel to your favorite movie is coming out.

╰┈➤ He likes giving you more meaningful gifts. Type of guy to give you one of those gifts that show the stars alignments of the night of your anniversary date, or bring you to Build-A-Bear so you two can make a bear together. 

╰┈➤If you make him anything or get him anything, he’ll remember it forever. And tell everyone about it. You made him lunch for when he’s at work? He’s boasting about it to his coworkers, complimenting your meals and talking about how much he loves you.

╰┈➤ As for pet names, he’s not shy, he mostly goes for pet names like gorgeous, beautiful, good-looking, babe, honey, sweet thing. 

╰┈➤He’ll tease you over everything. He loves seeing your face get pink, cross your arms, get defensive over whatever he teased you over. 

╰┈➤His love languages are quality time and words of affirmations. He’ll occasionally come into whatever room you’re in to strike up a conversation. Even if it’s just small talk, he likes being around you. He constantly compliments you and your ability to do things. 

╰┈➤Pretty touchy - he likes holding your hand, keeping his arm wrapped around your waist whenever he can. He’s confident, he likes initiating kisses, and he loves giving neck kisses especially.

╰┈➤He’s confident in himself, so he doesn’t get jealous super easily. But he does get defensive when someone tries hitting on you, and he;ll size that person up. Typically his build alone is enough to scare people off.

╰┈➤He definitely likes watching action movies best, but he wants to keep things interesting for you, so he often chooses out action-romance movies for you two to watch.

Chris Redfield .ᐟ

╰┈➤Hides his emotions more than anything else. At first, you didn’t even think he was somewhat interested in you. 

╰┈➤He gets pissed easily if you mention someone treating you wrong in the past. Not at you, but at the person and the fact that something like that could even happen to someone as sweet as you.

╰┈➤Really likes looking at you. If he has to leave work early in the morning, he’ll wake up extra early to have time to just admire your beauty and enjoy how warm you felt in his arms. 

╰┈➤Definitely a “do as I say, not as I do” guy. He will not let you smoke at all, even though he does, and when he does he does it away from you. He’s scared of doing any sort of damage to you, he doesn’t want his secondhand smoke affecting you. He’s also the type of guy to run towards danger, but he will make sure you stay away from it.

╰┈➤His love language is quality time. He wants to appreciate every second with you. He works a lot, so he knows he doesn’t get to spend as much time with you as he’d like. He’s also afraid that you’d break up with him one day or suddenly decide that you don’t love him anymore and leave him, so he wants to appreciate you as much as possible. And he’s also seen many people die, lots of his men get killed. He knows that he doesn’t always get as much time with people as he wants, so he doesn’t want to have any regrets if you were to go too soon. 

╰┈➤Keeps dates simple most of the time. He’ll take you to your favorite coffee place, a walk through the park together, or take you to get a treat at the new ice cream shop nearby. He likes taking you to cat cafes, pet stores and animal shelters - you like animals and he does too. But he likes seeing your happy face when you find a cute animal more.

╰┈➤ Best cuddler ever. He’s like a big teddy bear, he keeps you warm on winter nights, he always spoons you and keeps you safe in his big arms. 

╰┈➤ He gets anxious when you’re out without him for any reason. He trusts you, he just doesn’t trust others. He knows you won’t cheat, that’s not what he’s worried about - he’s always worried someone might hurt you. So, if you’re out for long, he messages you every now and then, occasionally calling you to make sure you haven’t died since the last time you messaged him. 

╰┈➤Not the type to give you pet names. He chooses to compliment you instead - cute, sweet, precious, pretty are his favorite compliments to give you.

╰┈➤Really insistent that you take care of your health. Make sure you eat 3 meals a day, you don’t smoke, drink in moderation, eat balanced meals, etc etc. 

╰┈➤ He gets extremely protective the second you’re injured. If you get hurt, you’re the only thing that will be on his mind, he forgets everything else and suddenly becomes dead set on healing you. He doesn’t let anyone else touch you or try helping with the exception of medical professionals. 

[ik33ponmakingc00ki3s]

"I think my frontal lobe just developed bro"

(I got flashed for searching up skirts so I chose flowers instead)

Genshin Chars reaction to you wearing a pencil skirt

They've been having these feelings for awhile now and you wearing the skirt just gave them a boost

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Al Haitham, Childe, Diluc, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Thoma, Venti, Xiao, Zhongli x GN! reader (not separated)

Genre: Romcom, fluff-ish

Warnings: Mentions of Abortion on Aether's part, Mentions of Suicide on Childe's part (This is not angst I swear)

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(A/n): Fuckass app bro (It's my fault tbh). Yesterday I had to rewrite everyone's parts half-based on the screen record as Diluc's part was pasted at the word counter website. So thank God.

I got sleepy, didn't notice I posted my draft so I panicked, and deleted it. So here's a rewritten version of it and I hope it's better, I just add in the scenarios that I can remember. And I'm sorry if some chars are ooc--

New: Gave this chapter a few minor updates!

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Part 1 ❀˖ °

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Header made by me <3

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Aether✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The twin that's 5 seconds younger than Lumine. Charming, Sporty, and helpful towards people (Especially to you)

Lumine groaned as she couldn't HANDLE any more shit from the 'could've been aborted twin' because he couldn't stop talking about you for days now. The way how you talk, your style, your laugh--OH when you laughed at his joke one time too! Lumine hissed and slammed the door against his face. "She deserves someone way more funnier!" leaving a sulking Aether as he prepared for school.

Ever since you walked through the door, he choked on his drink as 2/5 people that cared to check on him gave him a questioning look and faced towards the location he was looking seconds ago. Wiping his mess, he looked up to see some of them staring at him because you walking around a pencil skirt made him act like that.

You sure do have some cake in there huh, should've worn that pencil skirt since the first day so they got something to look forward to and attend school everyday---WHAT WHO SAID THAT???

That aside, Venti and Heizou were gonna have a field day about this as they teased the fuck out of Aether, and Lord he was BEGGING them internally to stop because you were just 2 seats in front of him, Talking with Mona and Ganyu about how nervous you feel for your defense against your research. He was frantic, nervous, ashamed even, "Guys please don't risk it.." He sighed nervously, fingers tapping, eyes switching towards them and you, hoping you hear none of their BS.

"Hey Aether! could we borrow your stapler real quic- oh! thanks" Your voice snapped him out of his state as his now buttery fingers searched for his stapler on his desk and gave it to you quick--almost dropping it in the process when your fingers lightly touched his, pressing his lips in a straight line while his skin warmed up. Sitting up properly, he saw Venti and Heizou look at him like he eats burgers with a spoon and fork.

"What-"

"Dude, you just straight up gave them your stapler without answering them"

Aether froze, he didn't realize that. He was so caught up in his own situation that he didn't bother answering you, and that made him melt out of embarrassment, he hoped that you didn't mind that behavior from him as he crossed his arms on the table and laid his head on top. Groaning at the heat as Heizou and Kazuha were lightly laughing at him from the side while Venti kept on smooching and teasing tf out of him.

"Guys can you just fucking practice? We're doing defense today"

Scara groaned, he was annoyed by just witnessing all this with Childe yapping besides his ear. Aether thanked him silently as he lifted his head up and stole glances from you from time to time, calming himself down as you chat away with your groupmates with your legs crossed as he looked away. He and his group were aware of his feelings towards you, and he knows that his best friends were into you too.

That's why he's gonna beg Lumine for some info from you since you guys are hella close, he has to know your favorite food, color, or your favorite sanrio character and he hopes that its the popular ones like cinnamoroll or pompompuri instead of the ones with long ass names like Fuwafuwanyankomitai- fucking whatever.

He'll be sure to do it--no he will do it because he knows that there are other great people outside his group that are interested in you too and he'll do his best as he can.

Albedo✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Your Golden boy who's your Class crush, Class president AND who's ALSO your group leader He def didn't stay behind class to convince your teacher to switch groups and make him the leader

With Albedo on your side, he can give your group a free pass to success, He was literally chosen to be a part of the Top 5 students to join but declined it because it would hinder his studies and that the school would just use him for bragging rights.

Your group is so lucky to have him or else your performance would've been in ruins with the panelists getting up on your asses with the smallest of mistakes. The other groups were having high hopes of him being in their group, but thank God he switched, because he knows that they'll rely on him too much and dump the difficult parts on him.

And so he enjoyed his limited time with you and did his best to give this group a stable backbone, making sure that they know what they're doing as he helped them in their parts when they asked for it.

Oh especially with you, he likes helping you a lottttt.

Eager was he as he sat besides you one time, he was so glad that the "teacher grouped him up" with you-- asking if you needed help, and before you could say no, he had your favorite drink and placed it in front of you. And before you could answer again, he beat you to it, "I was wondering if you tried this one actually, it's getting popular these days..." What a fucking liar, he saw you order this drink 3 times when he was studying at a cafe during his free time. You just didn't notice him as much like he does to you.

You wore a pencil skirt when you went to a group meeting one time and he couldn't almost concentrate, and now that you're wearing it again with a different style, he got a bit distracted as he unintentionally complimented you before and after the defense.

"You dress yourself like how Pierre Auguste Cot paints his muses" and "People keep leaving fashion shows because you weren't there to perform"

You were too stunned to speak as he gave you a small smile, even if you didn't know who Pierre is, even if you hated modeling, he would still see you as an icon--a muse, in his view. With your quiet state, he then realized that he complimented you 2 times in one day, clenching his jaw but kept the same face. He just hoped that you aren't weirded out by him with all the things he's doing, but oh he has to you know. He has to be 5 steps ahead of everyone, and always have to be 5 steps ahead of everything. That's his way to receiving such high achievements and go way beyond people's expectations.

So he's not letting this go so easily, no, he's moving mountains just to get closer to you and bloom to something more. He knows how to play with your buttons as he felt piercing stares behind his back, they're watching and they're mad, but what can they do? He always has to be ahead of them and that's what riled the tension more. So after checking the attendance three times, he called you again with a gentle smile, holding himself back from wanting to touch your hair and put them behind your ear, corny but cute.

"You did very well in the performance, I think you even pleased the panelists too. Now, I'd like to ask you, if we ever get to collaborate again, can it be in a restaurant next time?"

Al-haitham✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

One of the Top 5 students who put their school's name to championship but he's such an ass. Not with you tho, he's "trying" to upgrade the relationship between the two of you but is just a pussy too busy for it

Walking around the hallways, Al-Haitham and Kaveh were having their usual morning routine, coffee at 7:30 am and sticking up rocks in each other's asses. He just came from the championship days ago and took another few days break before heading back to school again "Hey Haitham look, 2 o'clock in front." Kaveh whispered as he looked up.

It was you, wearing a black pencil skirt with the length stretching down above your knees with a medium slit in the side, along black stockings and heels. Fixing your papers and signing attendances with Ganyu. God damn, even if you two don't meet as "much" he can't help but feel shameful for having feelings like these towards you. "Hey man, you've been staring for a while now, something in your mind?"

He angrily looked away and saw that Cyno was waving his hand in front of his view, his voice increased at the 'staring' part as it grabbed a few student's attention walking by. Thinking he was a pervert checking out on people.

"What the fuck do you want" He hissed as Cyno raised both his hands (Absolute Cinema) "Look-- I know you wanna bag them so bad, but atleast do something about it, other students from different classes are making their move while you're here staring" He wasn't lying, he felt like he was just a floater friend to you, talked a few times, bump into each other from hectic schedules, share small greetings whenever you meet.

Simple and casual stuff you know, you guys were grouped a few times, attending group meetings to having hangouts, going to small parties from other friends, to you begging him to play Online TCG and chatting on discord till 2 am, evolving to buying each other snacks when the other didn't eat.

Yeahhhhh floater friend.

"I'll think about it." He wanted to make a move too but he thinks that you aren't that interested in him. He himself is stubborn, especially in situations like this, convincing himself that everything's neutral. Even if his friends push him to go for it, he doesn't want to ruin the "small" friendly relationship you both had.

Sooo for now, he's just gonna lay-low and test the water before dipping in. Eyeing your ass view before heading to his own class.

"Think quick and hard soldier, OR I can help you set up with them. Yk, spy on some friends of mine to get info about you." Cyno offered to him as Al-haitham huffed.

"I can do it myself, but if there's no choice then I'll let it be--"

"Booooooo this is why you don't get bitches, you don't fight for them." With the sullen tone Kaveh had, Cyno snorted as Nari came up. His long fluffy ears twitching as he sniffed into the not so new topic of his circle.

"Hm, still having trouble with that special person you're afraid of confessing to Haitham?"

"I'm not planning to."

"And why's that? Afraid of getting rejected because you didn't want to ruin the only connection you have with them?"

He paused, thinking for a bit and before he could answer, the professor came in as everyone settled to their seats.

He let a frustrated sigh and thought, fuck it, it's either he keeps it in or take the risk of becoming more than just a "floater" friend to you, and if it works out, he can see more of you wearing pencil skirts till both of you reach your 40s, he doesn't mind that.

So there he sits in his own thoughts, contemplating what his friends said, and you wearing that skirt-- I mean making the first move towards you before it's too late.

Childe✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

• The transfer student that got a "bit" distracted when you wore a pencil skirt that he fumbled his performance but made up for it

As Childe was typing away, finalizing the powerpoint as he saw a figure walk in the classroom. He glanced up for a bit then back--wait. He did a double look and saw that the baddie wearing the corporate uniform was actually you! The one who he admires oh so much!

"Какое зрелище..."

(What a sight to see...)

He breathed in and out as he went back to his work, Albedo put him in charge for finalizing the small errors present in each slide as he stared for the screen for awhile, looking at you, then back at the screen, than looked up to you, then back, then to you, then back, then you-- ok he wasn't even typing anymore as he was just looking up and down.

He hoped no one noticed as he snapped back to work and tried to finish it at best as he didn't attend a group meeting once because of family matters. Wanting to gush about you to Scara, asking him if he saw you, then get back to his notes. He faced his direction while Scara was trying to focus on his paper, leaning besides him as Childe ruined his focus and filled it about you. And yikes, he swore that Scara was about to punch him in the face but cussed at him and his groupmates instead.

Childe was used to it but sulked back to his seat and read his notes as the Professor and a few panelists came in the room, telling everyone to prepare for their defense.

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

When it was his turn to present the next slide, his heart dropped, 3 words glued together was shown at the screen, an obvious typo in the presentation as some of his classmates stifled a laugh. "Shelooksgood" was written in the PowerPoint as Albedo sighed while some of your groupmates were getting nervous.

He panicked as he apologized for the mistake he made, along came Albedo who partly took the blame as the both of them didn't want their group to have deducted points. Enough to sway some panelists and let it off the hook, now he pretended that this never happened and locked-in with his presentation instead, ignoring his heart beating quick and mouth going dry.

Thank God he didn't put your name in there or else he'd shoot himself out of embarrassment, because changing his name, face, and identity would NOT save him from all of this.

So when he finished his part, he went back to his spot--hoping that it's enough to not deduct them or atleast give him minus points on his individual score instead. The professor gave a small nod of approval and so Childe glanced your way as you gave him a small smile, a 'Good job' expression that made his heart flutter.

He's definitely gonna talk about you to his family after this to get some advice from Mom and Pa on how to court someone who lured him in so fast.

Childe spaced out for a bit and snapped back when he heard your voice, calmly presenting but nervous inside, just like how he did his performance awhile ago. He wasn't trying to be weird or anything...he's just projecting his support for you imaginarily, hoping that you'd feel lighter and that the support you feel was coming from him. Till Mona lightly jabbed his side and whispered, "Stop staring at her, the red-headed panelist's observing us."

He looked at her then at the red-head, ah Diluc, since when did he become the student panelist? Anyways, Childe lightly scoffed then slowly fixed his posture creating small tension between him and Diluc as they had a small stare-off, only for a few seconds as your view came in between them with no care as you were answering the Professor's questions. Not knowing you unintentionally stopped something sinister brewing.

He let himself relax and just watched you, waiting for class to end to call his parents ASAP, he wants to get the cookie so bad frfr.

Diluc✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The student panelist who was harsh on other research group members but not you. He did a pretty good job with it too actually--Did I mention that he volunteered for it because he wanted to see you?

It's not a surprise that one of Ragnvindr's son would be at the top 5 students who'd bring home a certificate and trophy, along with making his father proud. Diluc didn't want to ruin anyone's expectation as he's carrying his father's last name. Hardworking and well-liked around the campus and office, so when his father asked if he wanted to be part of being a research panelist, he hesitated, thinking of wanting to back-out as his assignments and deadlines were piling up.

"One of your friends are in this class--don't worry about your grades falling off, they give credit for it as long as you reach their standards for paneling. They need students like you son, you're fit for it!"

His father said as he gave him the list of students with their assigned classroom, his eyes scanning names from the alphabetically ordered list, then stopped, '(L/n)', ah you're there. This could be his chance to get close to you as he immediately agreed to volunteer, receiving a pat on the back by his father.

-----------

Now he's sitting in your classroom, facing you and your group as he paid attention to the performance. He listened close, he listened well, and he also stared down at you for a full 30 seconds when you were telling your part and looked down at the paper, counting how many seconds then back to you, amazed by your style as he didn't notice that the panelist besides him was calling for him.

"Sir Diluc? It's your turn to ask them, do you have any questions?"

Ah, he didn't notice that he was distracted as he cleared his throat, "I don't have any questions about the paper but, I'd like to ask why did none of your groupmates help out on finalizing the PowerPoint?"

He asked, not amused as The ginger and the blonde took the blame and apologized, hoping that a small mistake wouldn't affect their scores. He'll let it pass. For now.

During the small incident, he knows that Childe was talking about you.

So he just nodded and let it be, seeing your face relieved as he let out a small smile before getting stoic. Noticing that a certain ginger was staring at him too.

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

After class, he denies all the complaints from his friends (who was in the same class as you) as he was being unfair towards them. But all he said was

"I just simply stated facts because that group followed what they were told to do, their title doesn't sound complicated, they followed the aide memoir, their objectives were clear, they didn't copy paste their research and winged it, they didn't forget to put their references, AND they defended their research with good points, now tell me, what is wrong with me giving a bit of praise for a group that did their best? Aside from that small occurrence with one of their groupmates..." Diluc knows damn well what he said was basic to most research groups, except for the copy pasting, reference, and defense part, he called those out in other groups that failed to reach their objectives. He's definitely biased towards you but can't admit it out loud.

Aside from that, The 3 second stare off with Childe awhile ago was a threat to him, he saw how Childe was looking at you, how Albedo complimented you at the start and end of the defense, how the other students were whispering about your outfit behind him-- You pulled yourself a lot of admirers huh?

That won't do, he was getting eager to talk to you, so he mustered up the courage and sent a simple compliment and swiftly went out the classroom, leaving you confused as Albedo called you in. Ignoring all the looks from other people, heading to his father's office with his ears all red.

What's with the rush?

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A/n: Hey Ho! IM SO FUCKING DONE WITH THIS CHAPTER BRO and I overdid Childe, Haitham, and Diluc's part, it's supposed to just be 610-615 words each but nah, I squeezed what I can think off with the others and even thought of removing Al-Haitham too, but nahhh. IM SO MAD AT HOW IT TOOK ME DAYS TO WRITE THIS LIKE??? HUH??😭😭💔

[4ruits]

(pop) sensational ──── nanami kento & fem-bodied!reader [ smut ]

you’ve got a fiery temper and a chip on your shoulder. it's gotten to a point where no one wants to work with you, and your career is nearly in shambles. the media wants to know: are you a diva or truly just a bitch?

in efforts of rebranding, your manager sends you on a resort to kuantan, malaysia, where you meet someone who truly speaks life back into you and once again, making you remember and feel the passion you once had.

𐙚 : idol!au, vacation fling, age gap relationship [ reader: early twenties & nanami: mid-to-late thirties ], mentions of stalking & light violence, lots of arguing, enemies to fuckers, brat!reader, brat taming, (pussy) spanking, rough sex, doggy style, manhandling, asphyxiation, hair pulling, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, dirty talk, etc.

minors, ageless & blank blogs do not interact ! ──── it's summer vacation for me & im feeling the summer vibes so strong.

BREAKING NEWS: [YOUR STAGE NAME] CAUGHT PUNCHING SUPER FAN IN THE FACE

“It seems like (Your Stage Name) will go to any means necessary for their privacy as a video’s been circulating the internet about a certain popstar losing their cool on a fan of theirs,” Gossip News Anchor, Gojo Satoru, introduces as he appears on screen. As the tall individual sits behind the large table, the gloss reflecting his incredible physique, Gojo’s sapphire eyes seem to be haunting you as to his left, the aforementioned video appears on his left. No matter the position you take on the couch, you’ve found that his eyes won’t leave yours and nearly put you in hysterics. 

Your blood starts to boil all over again as you grip the plastic fork tightly and shovel more food in your mouth. “Previously charting number one on Billboards with their album Good Girls Cry, Hot Girls Fly, numbers are already starting to tank as people have created their own notion on the hot-tempered celebrity.”

Gojo snorts, pink lips contorting into a devious smirk as he adds his own commentary. “I don’t know which one applies to her— seems to be neither. ”

The smart thing would be to change the channel or turn off the television, but you have this sick want of knowing what everyone’s saying about you, especially the man you used to watch eagerly, always believing that when you make it big, you’d fly under his radar and keep a good image. Now, here you are, stirring in anger as he gets the best of you. 

He continues talking as you continue to watch and eat away in anger. Orange chicken, broccoli, and rice being shoved in without a second to waste. You come to a point where you can barely chew properly when the events that have transpired relays in the back of your mind. 

You scoff, grains of rice spewing from your mouth. What Gojo Satoru names a Super Fan, you deem a stalker. The moment you remember the clip becoming viral, the video relaying on your Tik Tok feed, you could immediately tell that it’s been seamlessly edited to fit the victim’s narrative. Though, you’d also claim that you’re the victim. 

Halfway in between your dinner, you lose your appetite, forcing yourself to chew and swallow what’s already in your mouth and finally finding the strength to change the channel. The last thing you hear Gojo say is, “People coined her this generation’s top diva, but I beg you guys to ask— is she a diva or just a bitch? Remember guys, this isn’t her first rodeo. We need to think about who we make famous and—”

══════════════════

“We need to fix your image.” After days of ignoring your manager’s calls, you’ve finally decided to answer one of her calls. You knew that you couldn’t avoid the world and its consequences for too long. You chose this life and if you wanted to continue having this life, you needed to partake in whatever damage control your manager could conjure. But, would any of it be worth it? 

The people loved a good diva. They love to hate on female celebrities and coin them as divas the moment they set healthy boundaries between them and their fans, but you’ve gotten to a point where you don’t know if you’ll ever redeem yourself from this. Especially because you’re hellbent on believing that you’re in the right. 

“What for?” Slouched in the uncomfortable swivel chair, you’ve got your arms crossed and refuse to look up at the woman who’s managed to take you out of the gutters when you would make, yet again, another bad choice that the media always come to enjoy. You’ve been looking at the comments on all the social media platforms that you access too. (You’re figuring that they’ll come to confiscate that, too, by the end of this meeting). The accusations and statements are far more worse this time around— devastating amounts of death threats, misogynistic comments from both men and women, and vile dms that made your bones shudder in disgust and fear. It was an overnight shift that definitely confirmed your fears— this lavish life you’ve come to live will all be over soon. All because your stalker got the better hand. “I did what I needed to do to protect myself.”

“That’s not what social media’s saying.” You can’t quite understand how Shoko keeps such a level head with you, always managing to stay calm no matter what you throw at her. Setting her hands on the table, her nails shine in the clear coated polish she’s applied as she taps them in a rhythm you’ve always found calming. You wonder if she’s come to realize that with the way your shoulders lose tension. “They’ve already been collecting evidence to hate you and this seems to be the nail in the coffin. I know you’ve seen what people are saying. We need to get this under control before we can’t—”

“We needed it under control the moment I suspected that I had a fucking stalker.” Fixing your posture, you’re surrounded by your PR team, but only one woman who freely challenges and doesn’t have the fear to talk back to you. You slam your fist on the table. “The moment I contacted the police with my speculation, they should’ve been on it!”

“And you should’ve let your bodyguard do your job and handle things,” she fires back. “Maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess if you had.”

The room gets strikingly quiet, quieter than before. Shoko’s rendered you silent before, but always telling you something that you needed to hear. This— this you fear, isn’t. Feeling the impact of her own words, you see her composure fall for a quick second and her mouth falls open in quick attempts to take back her own words. However, you’ve always believed that words spoken out in anger are always laced in a person’s truth. 

You stand on your feet as people divert eye contact from both you and Shoko. “Before you try and apologize, don’t. Just start looking for someone else to work with.”

When you leave, the only sound the meeting room could hear is the creak of the door slowly shutting behind you. And then finally, with a heavy exhale as Shoko hides her face in her hands, she curses, “Shit.”

Two hours later, when you’re back at home and eating your anger away, you receive a notification. A text message from Shoko: I’m not here to apologize. I know you won’t accept it, but I really advise you to take a break. Somewhere far and not America. I know you’ve always wanted to go to Malaysia, what about Kuantan? 

And against your better judgment, you click on the link she’s provided. You don’t respond to her, letting the read receipt speak volumes, and already contemplating outfits for the trip. 

══════════════════

The sun shines brighter in Kuantan, Malaysia. And for a long time, you’ve been seeing your shine dim down under the warming lights of stadiums and arenas— burning your skin but never making it brighter. But, here— here — you truly glimmer underneath the hot rays of the sunlight. Sitting on a white blanket, stabilized by a water bottle, a tote bag, shoes and a cooler, you’re laying down in a dark green bikini and if you move ever so slightly, you can feel your belly button piercing against your navel. This has been the most relaxed you’ve ever felt since the couple years of stardom you’ve experienced. 

Within this private resort, you’ve got booked, you remain untouched and unbothered for the remainder of your trips, only ever hearing the sound of your name from employees doing their job. And the only time eyes are on you is when passersby are walking past and shoot a quick glance. They never blatantly stop and stare. 

You’ve grown the habit to always wear headphones or earbuds to silence the outside world, but recently, you’ve found the beauty in listening to the outside world. Right now, it’s the sound of waves from clear waters where you can see marine life in your own tranquil home while you and countless people invade it for the time being. It’s the sound of locals and tourists speaking in their native tongues, and it’s the sound of your ignorance to the current events being relayed about you back home. 

You don’t want to leave.

When you no longer feel the warming hug of the sun against your skin, you figure it’s hiding amidst the clouds, but the dark shadow that casts over you is what startles your peace. Your eyes flutter open to a large body blocking the sun and you’re trying to be patient, you truly are, but the virtue’s never been strong for you. You’ve always told yourself that your lack of it is what’s driven you to such heights in your career, but now, it’s not your biggest strength, it’s a weakness and a flaw. Dark eyebrows scrunching together as you groan under your breath, trying to control the impending rage, but the longer that this blond brute stands in front of you the more you grow annoyed. 

“Hello?” Your voice cracks, but you’re certain he’s heard you by the way he shifts on his feet. Nonetheless, you try again, louder. “Hello!”

“Hm?” you hear his deep voice finally turning towards you. Wearing round, tinted shades, you can’t see his eyes, but he has strong facial features. Dusty pink lips fixed in a relaxed frown, he looks down at your sitting frame while you scowl at him. 

“Can’t you find somewhere else to stand?” you ask, attitude laced with every word. “You’re literally blocking my view.”

You expected a meek apology and for the man to sheepishly move out of your way, but to your surprise, he scoffs and turns back around, continuing to block your view and this time, purposely. In shock, you snort and further push yourself to sit up. “Excuse me!”

You’d have thought it was a language barrier, but just from his actions, you knew he understood you clearly. Your blood starts to boil, forcing yourself to stand up and approach the man, pushing at his shoulder to catch his attention. He matches your energy, this time, showing his annoyance when he spins around. “What?”

“I know you heard me,” you cross your arms, entering his personal space in hopes that he’d back up. However, he stands his ground, remaining an unmoving obstacle before you. “Move out the way! I don’t know how you didn’t see me before, but I was sitting here first.”

“And you can continue sitting there,” he states. 

“Who do you think you are?” you snap. 

“Who do you think you are?” he retorts back at you, crossing his muscular arms, prominent veins putting themselves on display. "This is a public beach. And don't you think you could've asked more politely?"

“I—” you stop yourself from continuing, clenching your fists as you try to control your anger. You know that he's right. You could've approached things better. Right as you’re about to say something else, an employee makes themself known. A petite woman looking in between you and the man, hoping to de-escalate the issue. “Is there something wrong?”

You groan, turning to the woman, nails digging into the palm of your hand as you try to find the words to calmly vent out your frustration. However, you remember the entire point of your trip— to relax. Seeing you flustered, trying to find your voice is comical. Typically, Nanami didn’t like the call of attention on him like this, but you’ve managed to dig under his skin with your snide remarks and disgusting attitude. 

He never thought he’d find comfort in someone else’s anger, but he watches you with a sense of glee. He wonders what you’re going to do next, a young thing like you blowing gasket over such a simple matter, even though he did escalate this with his sheer stubbornness to oblige. Will you berate the poor employee in your rage or will you point at him pathetically?

In a deep huff, you throw your hands up in the air in defeat. “It’s fine!”

You give up, reaching down to grab your belongings. It catches Nanami off guard as you grab for everything messily, mumbling and cursing underneath your breath before stomping away. Presumably to another spot, but you’re marching right back towards the building, leaving both Nanami and the employee at a loss of words. 

══════════════════

You never liked dining in hotels, preferring to explore other places and what they had to offer whenever you were in another state or country. However, after the long day you had, you find refuge in the hotel grounds. Also, having fallen asleep after your steaming hot shower and waking up at half past six in the evening, you don’t have the time to look for somewhere to visit right now. Instead of the green bikini you sported on the beach, you’re wearing an oversized t-shirt and biker shorts that stops a little bit past your mid-thighs. With a pair of sandals on your feet, they slap the ground with every step as you make your way down the elevator and find you a spot at a table near the bar. 

A waiter comes to greet you, sliding a menu in front of you before giving you a few minutes to look through it. You’re all alone, enjoying the soft instrumental music playing overhead and hearing others talk amongst themselves when you hear the clink of glass hitting the table. You furrow your eyebrows at the waiter, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t ask for this.”

“It’s from the gentleman at table seven,” the waiter gestures, giving you a kind smile. Following where he gestured, your mood drops as you see the curt nod at who you can only assume was the man from the beach earlier today. You roll your eyes and scoff, pushing the glass in the direction of the waiter, reading his name tag, you hum. “Sorry, Yuuji, but tell him that I don’t want it.”

“You’re not gonna accept a free drink?” he asks, taken aback. “Wait, I’m sorry! I’ll—”

The chair across from you scrapes the ground, the same blond pulling out a seat for himself and sitting down before you could protest. Nanami quickly dismisses the waiter, holding the drink down before he could take it. “You’re really stubborn, aren’t you?”

“Oh—” Caught off guard and certainly not paid enough for instances like this, Yuuji finds himself uncertain on what to do. He looks at you, big brown eyes showing concern before going right back to the older man. “I’m sorry, sir, but—”

Nanami dismisses the young boy. “I can handle it from here.”

“Who said I wanted you here?” you sneer, leaning forward on the table. “I don’t want your lousy attempts at an apology. Leave.”

“Do you really think you can just bark orders at people and they’d willingly follow them?” Nanami gives you a once over, ashamed to feel an attraction towards you even though you’re spewing venom right in his direction. And the poor waiter, Yuuji, left to witness this all by himself and trying to remember employee protocols to easily handle this. He should really really get someone else, but he feels stuck.

“Ma’am, do you want me to call security for you?” Yuuji interjects, to which Nanami replies with, “That won’t be necessary.”

“Don’t be rude to him,” you snap, defending the employee. 

“I should’ve said the same thing to you back on the beach,” Nanami retorts. 

“It wouldn’t have gotten you very far,” you shoot back.

“Seems like the same thing’s happening here.”

“You suck at apologies, it seems,” you cross your arms. There’s a rush coursing through your body as your shoulders relax, tension released as you’re finding joy in this exchange. “For a man at your age, I’d expect better.”

“And for a young lady, I expected you to have better manners.”

“Seems like I wasn’t raised right,” you throw a faux smile, tilting your head as Yuuji just watches the scene unfold before him. With a shaky voice, he finally speaks again, “Uh— Ma’am?”

“I’m fine,” you sigh, feeling remorse for dragging the boy into this petty debacle. “He can stay. I need a verbal punching bag right about now.”

Nanami snorts. “You think I’m so easy to beat up?”

“No, but it makes it all the more fun.”

Nanami pushes the drink in your direction, some of the contents splattering out the cup and onto the table. “Just take it.”

You slide it back in his direction. “No,” you smirk. “I don’t like drinks like this. Get me something else.”

══════════════════

Nanami has never deemed himself to be a rough man. He’s never deemed himself to be one who willfully disrespects a woman for his own pleasure, but you’ve thrown yourself into his temporary life. What should’ve been a relaxing vacation becomes infiltrated by a pretty nuisance such as yourself. You’re just some pretty little brat that couldn’t accept the answer ‘no’ and seemingly likes to rile people up. It’s apparent in your body language, how your shoulders relaxed while you argued with him at the dining table and how your eyes sparkled whenever he slewed another snarky remark. 

You were having fun and somewhere down the line, while the check was set on the table— the thing that he made sure to snatch up before you could even point a finger outwards— you felt something stir deep inside you. You couldn’t name it, refused to, but you liked it. 

“Stop trying to be so chivalrous,” you sneer, watching the man pull out a wallet and slip his card inside the leather-bounded item. “You don’t need to waste your retirement money on me.”

“You know,” Nanami sighed. “I’ve never called a woman a bitch before.”

“There’s no need to lie to me,” you exhale. When the waiter comes back, you watch as Nanami slides the bill his way. “I thought this relationship was built on honesty. Don’t worry, I won’t tell everyone else that you’re just like every other shitty man there is. They already see it for themselves.”

“How do I make you shut up?” he asks, feigning annoyance despite taking the same pleasure from this entire encounter.

“You lost that chance about an hour ago,” you gleam. “Now, you’ve got to be creative— obviously an area you lack in.”

“I’ve got a few ideas already,” Nanami smirks, leaning in his seat. “Just need to know if you’re up for it.”

“I’m sure that everything up your sleeve will surely put me to sleep in a matter of seconds,” you challenge. “But I’m willing to see what you’ve got.”

Ultimately, that seemed to be the goal. 

Stumbling in the direction of his hotel room, you fell into the door with a hearty thud, a harsh breath escaping you in this flurry of moments. His lips taste strong of the whiskey he had alongside you, his pink tongue dancing against yours to savor your taste. Your hands wrapped around the nape of his neck while his hands went into search for his keycard, grabbing it and pressing it against the metal door handle until he could hear that click sound. Your moans sound like a high-pitched surrender to his touch. Throwing open the door, you stumble back, but he catches you from falling when you threaten to do so. 

Hands reaching for the hem of your shirt, his cold fingers press underneath the cotton and dance against your bare skin. Your stomach clenches as you suck in a breath as his ice cold digits threaten your comfort. You allow him to take off your shirt, hearing it go disregarded to the ground in a soft thud while he follows next. Underneath his shirt, you feel the blond hairs against his chest. Despite the soft chub that you feel, there’s still muscle from his years of consistent workout in the past. And that muscle isn’t for show. 

He picks you up with ease, strong hands holding the undersides of your thighs as you level you to his height. “By the time I’m done with you, that mind of yours will finally be empty.”

You give him a challenging once over, eyelashes fluttering in mischief. “I’m pretty sure you’ll be done in a matter of seconds, old man.”

You don’t believe yourself, but a spark’s been ignited and you don’t want it to blow out. You squeal the moment you feel yourself drop, landing on the bed in a shock that has your heart racing. Then, one hand around your ankle, you screech when he drags you towards the end of the bed. He chuckles, in a way that’s so deep and manly that it sends arousal straight to your core. Looking in your eyes, Nanami can tell just how much fun you’re having with being such a pain in the ass. But in due time, you’ll certainly learn your lesson. 

Spreading your legs open, he palms in between your thighs, pressing against your covered cunt. He cups it, feeling the heat reverberate from it and how you pulsate. Underneath his tired brown eyes are excitement and anticipation as he smirks down at you. “Bet you’re so wet already. I know it… I know this pussy of yours’s just waiting to be fucked, hm?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, tugging on the elastic fabric to reveal your sodded panties. In contrast to the black attire, you’ve worn a matching set of pink undergarment that’s all too appealing to Nanami’s eyes. He hums in delight as he tugs on your leg once more, wrapping the limbs around his waist and pressing his thumb down against the cotton padding of your crotch, your wet mound clenching around the fabric being pressed down by his finger. Back and forth he rubs against your folds while your clit pulsates in a dire need and want for this man you’ve only met today. 

The warmth in your stomach continues to boil as your juices seep and cling to the fabric in a desperation, creating a bigger wet spot that the older man gladly feasts on with his eyes. Pink lips that happily twist in a grin as he looks down on you. Coffee-colored pupils hold so much desire in them that it makes you antsy, back starting to arch off the bed as you push yourself further against him. Gnawing on your thick bottom lip, you let your body language speak in volumes. 

You’ve dropped the facade so quickly, finding yourself easily succumbing to his touch now in hopes that he’ll give your body what it so desires. But, Nanami can’t forget what transpired in the earlier hours. And, he won’t let you forget either. 

“Aw,” he coos, tilting his head. “Does this pretty doll want me to take care of her?”

You meagerly nod, back arched off the bed as you jut out your breasts. They poke out in the cute bra, and it’s a sight that should be captured and admired, but he won’t fall for such tantalizing beauty so quickly. He won’t fall under your strings of control. 

Pulling your panties to the side, your pussy glows underneath your essence. It shines like fragile porcelain, your sweet cunt anticipating and aching to be filled up with his cock. Nanami watches it clench as his thick index finger glides seamlessly in between your folds, collecting your arousal. He creates a pathway to your clit, pressing the smooth pad against it and feeling how your body shudders. “Please…”

It’s faint, your begging, but he catches it. Eyes flickering up to yours, Nanami tuts. “Do you think you deserve more?”

You nod without a second thought, pulling out an incredulous snort from Nanami. “You do?”

Again, you nod before the lightning strikes. The sting to your cunt has you jolting, a surprised squeal leaving you. But just as the pain comes, it quickly dissipates when you feel the gentle rub right back on your clit. You take a relaxed breath before you feel your body jumping yet again. You squirm, trying to pull away from the pain, but one strong hand grips at your thigh to keep you still. “Try pulling away, and I’ll be out that door. You want that?”

You quickly shake your head, “no,” weakly falling from your lips. 

“Good,” he breathes. Neither do I. 

One more time does the sting of his slaps reverberate in your pussy. Your body shivered, back still not touching the bed as your legs tightened around the man. Your moans were sweet and breathy, eyes watching him despite their constant fluttering. Honey blond hair with streaks of silver peppered throughout. You wanted nothing more than to run your fingers through his scalp. More and more of your honeyed slick seeped onto his hand at the sheer thought of your imagination, toes curling when you feel a digit tickle and tease at your entrance before pulling away. 

“Nanami…” you whine, but he ignores you, dropping your legs from around him before sending one last strike to your cunt. 

“I’m gonna ask you again.” He puts one knee up on the bed, crawling to hover over your body and dip down to your level. You can feel his body heat vibrate off his chest as it rises and falls in a rhythmic manner. “Do you really think you deserve more than what I’m giving you right now?”

And again, you nod. Because, you truthfully do believe that you deserve all of him. You believe you deserve everything from this world after how it’s treated you. But with the furrow of his eyebrows, you can tell that you’ve answered wrong. Rising up from the bed, Nanami sighs and pulls at his pants buttons. “Well, do you know what I think you deserve?”

Whining, you frown as you start to squirm. Bottom lip jutting out in a pout, you huff in annoyance. “Nobody cares what you think. Just come n’ fuck me already.”

Pulling down the zipper of his pants, his erection becomes more prominent as you lay pliant on the bed. Eyes fluttering down to his lower half, you can see how thick he is underneath and how he’s been gifted a dutiful amount of length with it. He chuckles, kicking off the garment and palms at his boner, feeling his pre dampen a spot against his upper thigh as you start to push yourself up on the bed, your elbows holding up your weight. 

“Don’t worry,” he says, climbing up the bed once more. He easily has you under his trance despite your weak attempts to remain so bratty. You sit up straight, leaning into him, expecting to get a taste of his lips. Mere centimeters away from them, you receive a ghost of a smile. “Because, I’m so kind, you’ll get what you want—” His voice lowered. “—Get on your hands and knees.”

Your eyes sparkle with that fire that he’s come to adore in his moments of knowing you. “Are you gonna make me?”

Gaze hardening, he meets your challenge. “I won’t tell you twice.”

Face pressed into the soft pillows, your sobs are muffled. The bed creaks as Nanami plunges into your spongy walls with such vigor. The wet clapping of skin echoes through the room as he can hear your high-pitched cries and moans get swallowed by the smooth fabric. One knee digging into the bed with his foot pressed against your scalp, he’s brutal with how he fucks your sweet hole.

Your legs shake as your inner thighs are stained with his white seed and your sticky and glossy arousal. With the gasps of air you take, you can only whine and cry as your mind’s so fogged up and body weak and pliant against the bed. Your entire body feels hot despite the harsh beating your poor cunt is taking, fluttering for more as he presses into your cervix with each thrust. His touch sets you on fire, strong and veiny hands gripping at your hips as he plows into you, never relenting until he’s had his fill. “Finally got you to shut up, huh?”

You can only respond in weak and needy moans and whimpers— music to his ears. “Only thing you can do now is cry like a little bitch.”

Your cunt flutters at that, tightening around Nanami’s cock. He grunts, trying not to lose himself in you. “Fuck,” he whispers, before his quick moment of weakness is replaced with a chuckle. “What a filthy little thing you are. Letting yourself get used and disrespected by an older man. You have no respect for yourself.”

Even in your weak state, you manage to push your rear further against him in his visceral plows. Sweat beading off his forehead, Nanami grunts and groans in the heat of your pussy. His cock showered in your essence as your sweet cunt is begging and pleading for a release he refuses to give you. With every press of his tip against that gummy spot deep inside you, you feel that fluttering need to let go and release. But with every squeeze that lasts too long and when your sounds get all choked up, Nanami denies you yet another release and himself momentary pleasure. He pants, chest falling and rising as he watches you quiver below. Your ass jutting out in desperation as he eases the pressure he applies with his foot against you. It gives you just a moment to croak out, “Please… I want—”

He doesn’t give you more time to respond, gripping at your hair and forcing you up to have your back pressed against him. His excess seed slips past your folds and stains your thighs even more than they’ve already been. Whimpering, your eyes shut as you feel Nanami’s breath against the nape of your neck. “You asked for more. Isn’t this more?”

He tugs on your hair, your neck snapping back as he forces you to look at him through your welling up eyes. You shake your head, “Not enough. I need t’come. Please, Nanami!”

“You sound so pretty when you beg,” Nanami hums. “Beg s’more and maybe I’ll let you.”

You disobedient little thing, succumbing to him after all the fights you’ve put up. Eyes scrunching shut, you moan and whine out, “Please… Please, please, please! I need to cum— want t’come so bad!”

He doesn’t say anything, just pushing you back down on your stomach as he aligns himself within you once more. Sliding back inside you at ease, he returns to using brute force against your pussy walls. One knee digging into the sheets while his leg has its toes tangled in them, his sheaths himself greedily into your pussy. He’s still got a tight hold on your waist while his other hand snakes in between your legs to press down on your clit, eliciting a high-pitched sob from your lips. “Fuck!” 

Gaining a bit of strength, you hold your upper body up with trembling hands that’ll soon give out, but it's worth it in the time being. With lidded eyes, you try your best to get a view of the man messing up your insides with his fat length, eyes fluttering when they make eye contact with the blond. You moan and mewl out in pleasure when that familiar coil returns. Eyes rolling back as you call out his name, “Nanami, please…”

He pinches your clit, sending a jolt through your body as your pussy clenches around his cock once more. There’s no pulling out this time, letting your walls hold his length in a death grip before you release yourself against him. He can feel himself twitch, buried deep inside your womb as you paint his cock in a smearing white. Your long-winded moan contorts into a hearty sigh, limbs falling as your chest hits the bed and your exhausted body having its fill. A few more languid thrusts of Nanami’s hips pull a few more high-pitched hymns from you before he’s completely emptied himself inside of you. 

His length falls limp when he unsheaths himself from you, watching how your sweet hole leaks a mixture of each other’s release. It drips and stains the bed sheets and he only now feels guilty for the housekeepers tasked to clean it. Finally, you turn yourself on your back, hazy eyes pinned right on Nanami. “I’ll be seeing you after this, right?”

Nanami can’t help but snort, “Don’t tell me I’ve softened you up.”

“Oh, definitely not,” you laugh. “Just want to know if I have more to look forward to on this little trip.”

“I’ll let you know if I can fit some more time for you.”

══════════════════

POP DIVA HAS RETURNED FROM BREAK! HAS SHE RETURNED A BRAND NEW PERSON OR HAS SHE REVERTED RIGHT BACK TO HER WAYS?

By Gojo Satoru | Thursday, June 12, 2025 | 12:00 PM 

After viral videos of (Your Stage Name) has been released, they had dropped off the radar. Her record label claimed that she was taking a break from all the stardom while the people were demanding an explanation. It’s been six months since her disappearance and the people want to know if she’s learned her lesson or not.  You all know how I feel about the crowned pop diva, but it’s not up to me to decide if she’s worthy enough to be back in the limelight. How do you guys feel? … Read More

𐙚 : this is my first time writing brat taming. y'all vibing with it? thank you so much for taking the time to read. please let me know what you thought down below in the comments, please. i will give you a slice of an apple.