#the things i do for you people. except it’s not for you it’s for me im looking forward to locking in for this one again :]

[trashytracktales]

Hey! Please do a lando x ex!reader. They break up after a lot of arguments due to being away from each other so much and then they meet a few months later and hook up. Like angst in the beginning then lots of smut.

If it's meant to fall apart | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── I was actually planning to write something similar for so long. Thank you for the request and I hope you like it 🤍

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

𐙚 summary ──── Surprisingly, months apart haven’t dulled the connection between them. After a night of passion and honesty on both sides, maybe there is a future where they can make all the right decisions, after all.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x ex!reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, lots of angst & back-and-forth, fluff & smut, teasing, praising, explicit language, unprotected sex, mention of alcohol and drinking, swearing, not the healthiest relationship I've ever written tbh (the toxicity is implicit tho), overstimulation, pussy-drunk Lando, Max F. & Ethan aka FEEFA cameo.

𐙚 word count ──── 10.6k (Thank you to everyone who voted on this poll I posted the other day, I didn’t expect to see so many 🥺).

𐙚 date ──── Nov. 27, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── Guys, look. I know it's A LOT 🥴 I kinda let myself run with this one because I haven't posted anything in like a week or so. I still have 2 requests I'm working on, so don't give up on me yet 🤞🏻

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

SHE'S NOT ENTIRELY sure how long they’ve been dancing, but she hasn't finished her drink yet. Time feels like an illusion, blurring the edges of her vision with every new rhythm of the night. For the first time in months, she feels a little lighter, her friends’ energy pulling her out of her own head — and apartment, where she locked herself in after the break-up.

The club is packed tonight, bodies pressed together in a sea of drunken, sweaty chaos. Neon lights bounce off every surface, painting the room in vivid purples, blues, and pinks. It's not usually her style — not anymore — but she figured it won't hurt to let lose for a couple of hours.

It’s only when she steps away from the dance floor, her feet hurting and her head buzzing, that she spots him.

Why tonight, of all nights?

Why here, of all places?

Why him, of all people?

He’s leaning casually against the bar, a glass in hand, chatting with a few familiar faces. Faces that she can't help but miss.

She stopped talking to Max — well, Max stopped talking to her after ending things with Lando, too upset that she toyed with his best friend's heart for ‘no apparent reason’. Their friendship dissolved under pressure, fragile as a cheap plastic cup in the grip of sulfuric acid. But Max wasn't the only one who took it personally. That's why she needed to cut ties with everyone from her past. She needed new friends — her own friends —, she needed a new place and new clothes, and to rebrand herself from scratch. Which she did.

She thought she had made it through, but the past has its twisted ways of coming back when you least expect it.

Now, the sight of him, so vivid and real, makes her chest tighten.

She stops in place, hoping he doesn’t notice her, but then his eyes flick in her direction and, for a brief moment, neither of them blinks, the noise around them fading into a dull murmur.

He straightens slightly, his relaxed posture gone as his brows knit together. There’s something unreadable in his body language — surprise? Excitement? Confusion? Pain? She doesn’t know, but it mirrors the knot twisting in her stomach.

Her friends call out to her, pulling her attention briefly, and when she looks back, he’s still staring. Except now, he’s moving, weaving his way through the crowd toward her.

Oh, hell no.

Her heart starts to race, a mix of adrenaline and something far more complicated than fear, as she rushes to walk away; she's fought for far too long, and now her instinct is to fly as soon as she senses danger.

Unfortunately, she's not quick enough.

“Hey,” says Lando when he gets closer, his voice low but audible over the music.

Hearing him gives her goosebumps, hating the way her body is betraying her. It’s been months since she’s heard his voice, but it still hits her the same way: sharp and unrelenting.

She turns around, forcing a smile, “Hi, Lando,” she manages, her voice steadier than she feels, thinking she should try acting if she makes it out alive from this encounter.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, his tone careful, yet extremely suggestive.

It makes her stomach twist again.

He used that line the very first night they met, his boyish grin lit by the dim, flickering lights of another club, in another city. Potentially another life, she's not sure. She remembers the way he had leaned in, so full of confidence and asked the same exact question with a mischievous glint in his eye.

It feels too deliberate now, too heavy with the weight of their past for her to ignore.

“All set,” she finally says, her voice quieter than she intended, as she raises her half-full glass in her hand. “Thanks.”

For a moment, it feels like they’re strangers meeting for the first time. Except they’re not, and their history is hanging heavily in the air between them.

Lando nods, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, “How about this, let me join you for that drink?”

She takes a look to where her friends are dancing, then she turns back to him, “I'm here with my friends.”

It's a pathetic excuse, she knows that. But she has no time to think of something else. Not when her brain is suddenly all scrambled and can't form a single coherent thought.

Lando frowns, disappointed, but not willing to give up that easy. “Come on, just a quick catch-up and then you can go back to your friends. Mine won't mind,” he shrugs, pointing at the bar, where the others are following their every move like a bunch of curious minions.

She catches Max lifting his glass in her direction, and Ethan, waving frantically.

Against her better judgment, she nods.

“Okay,” she murmurs, “Let's catch up,” she spits the words, sounding a bit too sarcastic. Still, it makes Lando smile.

His shoulders relax slightly, relief softening the tension in his body. He gestures toward a quieter corner of the club, away from the pounding bass and the sea of bodies. His first instinct was to take her hand in his, but since that's over the line, Lando keeps looking back, making sure she follows him. And she does. Like a naive, lost puppy that hasn't learned a single thing in the past five months, apparently.

The crowd surges around them, chaotic and loud, and before she can react, someone stumbles into her, their elbow catching her arm. As a result, she's thrown off balance, her feet slipping on the slick floor. Gasping, she's bracing for the inevitable fall that… never comes.

Lando’s hand shoots out, catching her waist and pulling her upright. His grip is firm, grounding, and suddenly she’s pressed against him, her chest brushing his.

“Careful,” says Lando, his lips close enough to her ear for the voice to cut through the noise.

The spot where he's touching her is burning her skin. She looks up, speaking with a hesitant smile, “Thanks, I'm good.”

The club around them fades away, and all she can feel is the warmth of his hand on her waist and the familiar scent of his cologne — a smell she used to know so well. It is almost intoxicating, and it makes her mouth water. She realizes that's what she was missing the most.

Lando smiles faintly, his hand slipping away as if he’s reluctant to let go. “Always got you.”

She doesn’t know how to respond to that, sensing the double meaning behind his affirmation. So, she nods and lets him guide her the rest of the way.

They find a small, semi-private booth near the exit, far enough from the main dance floor that the music dulls to a manageable volume. He gestures for her to sit first, then slides in across from her.

She fiddles with the edge of her glass, feeling his eyes on her.

“So,” she starts, leaning back against the booth, “You're here.”

Here, as in back home.

“For a week or so, yeah. Got a bit of a break between Brazil and Vegas.”

She nods, emptying the rest of her drink in one go, “How’ve you been?”

Lando shrugs slowly, “Alright. Busy with work and everything,” he trails off, his gaze dropping to her lips for a brief moment. “It’s not the same,” he continues, his smile fading away. “What about you, what have you been up to?”

She needs superhuman powers to stop herself from scoffing in his pretty face. It’s such a simple question, yet it feels loaded, heavy with all the things they haven’t said to each other in almost half a year.

“It's been… peaceful. I moved to another neighborhood. Kept busy, distracted.”

Lando hums, his expression unreadable for some reason. “Yeah, I get that. You look great, by the way,” he states it as a fact, his voice soft but unwavering.

She hesitates, then looks up at him, really looks at him. His face is the same and yet… not really. The boyishness is still there, but there’s a weariness in his eyes that's somehow new. Plus some facial hair she always begged him to try out. It tugs at something inside her, something she’s not sure she’s ready to face. Because it hurts. Because it annoys her. Because, after everything, she's still not over it.

“Cheers,” she replies, hoping he won't catch the blush in her cheeks. “I kind of hoped you would look like shit when I saw you again,” she admits. “You know, I'm talking no front teeth and severely balding. But, oh well. You too.”

Lando's smile widens, making everything infinitely worse for her.

He wears a black shirt that clings to his frame in a way that highlights the muscles in his arms. His black cap is pulled low, worn backwards in that signature way he always did, giving him that effortlessly cool vibe. His eyes are still the same, though. Dark, piercing, the same ones that could make her heart beat faster even after everything that’s happened.

“I thought about you a lot over these months, you know,” Lando finds himself saying, chewing on his lower lip.

She shoots him a surprised look.

As if, she thinks. His Instagram feed would say otherwise.

“You did?” she ends up asking, curiosity getting the best of her.

A hint of vulnerability creeps into his voice, “Of course. I've missed you.”

She laughs dryly, “But it's been good for us, right? We just established we both look great, no constant fighting, no slamming doors, no smashed phones…” she says, looking at him intently.

He can't sustain that for long, so he looks down at his shoes, slightly ashamed, remembering how bad it used to get when the distance between them felt too much to handle. He remembers the frustration, and the helplessness he felt when he couldn’t reach her, because he couldn’t make things right. He did smash his phone once, in a fit of anger, because he couldn’t get ahold of her for hours — not his proudest moment, that's for sure.

Lando swallows hard, “Yeah, it has been nice to have some distance. I guess it makes the heart grow fonder, right?”

“Hmm,” she hums, letting her eyes travel across the room, scanning random faces and wondering how life would be if she were someone else, “I don't know about that.”

She knows, in fact. But the words pause in her throat, too tangled up in memories. When he finally looks up, she's holding his gaze for just a beat longer than she should, and she wonders if he can feel it too — that familiar pull, like gravity, drawing them back together once again.

“I know—” Lando begins, not sure from which angle to approach. “I know it was the right choice at the time, but I can't help but wonder what things could have been if I'd fought harder for you.”

“Come on, Lando,” she laughs, unamused, giving her head a shake, “We would've ended up in another vicious circle, no matter what. It's always like that with us, isn't it?”

A part of him knows she's right. Still, “We'll never know.”

“Well, maybe it's better that way,” she manages, her voice lacking conviction.

“Or maybe it’s not,” he contradicts her, his words carrying a weight that presses on both of them. “You never think about us?”

Another sharp, dry laugh — it's either this, or she'll start crying. “I am actively trying not to,” she admits, her tone tinged with exasperation. “What’s the point, Lan? Thinking about what could’ve been won’t change what happened. You were always gone, and I couldn't spend my life following you around like a headless chicken. We had a good time, but it was never going to last,” she says the last part mostly as a reminder for herself. “Not in those circumstances.”

His jaw tightens. “You think it was easy for me? That it didn’t tear me up knowing I couldn’t be there for you the way you wanted me to?”

“I didn't say that,” her eyes snap to his, “We simply weren't working. We were too good at breaking each other.”

Lando leans back in his chair, frustration visible on his face. He hates that she's right, but it doesn’t stop the ache in his chest.

His jaw clenches, “I just… I don’t want to believe that’s all we were. Breaking each other.”

Her expression softens a little at his words, “Not all. But enough to make us miserable.”

For a while, the air between them feels heavier, the noise fading into the background. He wants to say something, anything, to counter her point, but all he can do is look at her and ask himself if they were, indeed, playing a losing game back then.

“Did you meet someone?” his question flies out of nowhere.

Lando looks at her with anticipation, sensing the hesitation.

“I did,” she replies, nodding slowly.

“And?”

She meets his eyes for a split second before looking away again, fixing her gaze somewhere on the table. “And we're happily married with twins on the way. What do you think? I just. Couldn’t.”

Lando's stomach drops, trying his best to remain calm, his hands clenching into fists. “You couldn’t what? Be with them?”

She shakes her head, her movements slow and deliberate, as if choosing her words carefully. “It was too soon.”

Her answer only leaves him with more questions. “So, what does that mean?”

“I don’t know what it means,” she rushes to say, her tone tinged with irritation. It’s clear she’s as unsure as he is, but that only makes it harder for Lando to process her reaction.

He runs a hand over his face, his exasperation bubbling to the surface. “I’m just trying to understand,” he says, his voice quieter but no less intense. “Because I've also tried.”

She looks directly at him now, her eyes narrowing slightly. “And?” she challenges in the same manner, her tone carrying just a hint of defiance.

“They weren't you,” says Lando, the truth of his statement hanging between them like a heavy anchor.

They remain silent after that.

She wants to ask him why — why he still cares, and why it hurts so much to be in the same space again after all they’ve been through. Nothing comes out, though; she already has the answer to that. They didn't break up because they stopped loving each other. They had both been too caught up in their own worlds to find any kind of balance. That broke them up.

He wants her to speak. He needs to hear her speak. To react. But when she says nothing in return, there is a brief second when he feels like giving up for good; he can't do anything if she's already made a decision. He knows how stubborn she is.

Lando nods to himself while getting up and start walking toward the exit, his thoughts all over the place.

The night air greets them with a quiet, cooling embrace as they step out of the club. Of course she follows, and she hates herself for that. But she can't help it — it's instinct. Like a magnetic force he's always had over her.

On the other hand, it's how they always communicated, through gestures and actions rather than words.

The soft click of her heels against the pavement gives Lando hope. He slows down so she can catch up, and then they walk side by side, without talking. The background noise of the city keeps them company, and by the time she decides to break the silence, he stops abruptly.

His voice sounds so small now, like a child asking his parents why can't he eat his chocolate bar before dinner.

“I know it feels so silly looking back,” says Lando, as though afraid to shatter the superficial peace between them. “We did so many things wrong, but I think we also did a lot of things right.”

She hesitates, her eyes dropping to the ground where a patch of light from a distant street light catches the edge of her shoe. Her arms fold tightly across her chest, while trying to look anywhere but at him.

“Yeah, breaking up was one of the right things,” she says thoughtfully, though her voice has a trace of bitterness behind it. “Before that, we tried so hard to make it work that we ended up burning each other alive.”

It's crazy how simple words can cause physical pain so quickly.

“Yet we're still here,” he reminds her. “Knowing what we know now, maybe we wouldn’t burn so fast this time. And isn’t it worth it, even if it only lasts for a little while? We were so happy at the start.”

That’s what he clings to. The laughter, the stolen moments, the way they fit together so effortlessly — she can’t argue with that. Their beginning was a beautiful dream, but it’s the nightmare that followed that keeps her guarded now, even though all she wants is to crack his ribcage open and slip inside him so they will never be apart again.

Her voice shakes as she tries her best to make him see her side, the memories spilling out like water breaking through a dam. “I had to put myself back together, Lando. Piece by piece. And I was all alone.” She forces herself to meet his gaze, finally, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Turns out, our friends were actually your friends, and I had to go through the worst breakup of my life with no one by my side. I had to move, I had to build an entire life from pretty much nothing. And I had to do everything alone, because I didn’t just lose you. I lost everything the moment I made you the center of my universe.”

Her words knock the air out of his lungs, guilt clawing at his insides. “Look, I know I should have been there,” says Lando, his voice barely steady. “Fuck me. I wasn’t supposed to let you go in the first place, alright? I should’ve been a better boyfriend, and I should’ve fought harder to make it work, using what we had then. But you did fuck with my head, and I thought being away would help.”

The first tear spills down her cheek, and she wipes it away hastily, as if she could erase the vulnerability altogether.

“It did help,” she agrees. “I know I can live without it now.”

Lando freezes for a split second, then stepping dangerously closer to her. “So, you’ll be fine if we stay broken up?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper.

She nods, but it’s shaky. And when she takes a step back, trying to put distance between them, Lando decides he gave her enough space. Fuck that. He's not thinking anymore, not with his brain, at least. He closes the distance again, his hands finding her waist and pulling her close in one swift motion.

It’s impulsive, desperate even. But he doesn’t care. The moment he feels her presence in his personal space, the fire he’s tried to smother for months, roars back to life, more powerful than ever. And just like that, everything it's right again. The way her body fits against his, the familiarity of it all, makes his heart race in his chest.

“Stop being so fucking stubborn, baby,” he murmurs into her hair, his voice cracking under the weight of his own desperation. “Why can’t we at least try, hm? You told me it was too soon for someone else. Maybe it’s because it’s supposed to be me.”

Her breath catches at the sudden closeness, at the rawness of his voice. She's unsure of what to do with her hands, until they hover awkwardly by his shoulders.

“You're not fair,” she whispers, her voice slightly trembling. “You can’t just accidentally waltz back into my life and say things like that.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about being fair,” he says, his voice firm. “I just want us back. Simple as that.”

Her tears blur the edges of Lando's face when she tries to push him away, but his grip won't let her. Not this time.

“It's not that simple, and you know it,” she says. “We’ll only end up hurting each other again.”

“Then we hurt, so what?” he counters, his voice soft but sure. “At least we’ll know we tried until there wasn't anything worth fighting for. I'm not done with you, baby. Are you?”

Her hands finally move, trembling as they brush against his cheeks. They're not as soft as they use to be, his little facial hair scratching slightly at the pads of her fingers. The connection sends a jolt through them both as her touch lingers, trailing up to his hair. She pulls at his cap with both hands, placing it on her own head with a weak smile.

“It’s longer than you used to wear it,” she notices, her tears catching the street lights.

Lando’s heart clenches, managing to shoot a small smile in return, “I thought maybe I’d try growing it out. Do you like it?”

“I love it,” she admits as she tries to messily style his hair with her fingers. “It suits you.”

For a little while, they’re trapped in their own bubble. Her touch feels like home, and all Lando can think of is that he can't lose it again.

“I’m not asking you to decide now,” he finally says, his thumbs tracing soft circles on her waist. “I just need to know I’m not the only one still holding on.”

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, they're stumbling into her apartment. She knows it's reckless, and she's basically throwing away five months of progress, but it wasn't going to last, anyway.

Addictions are very hard to keep under control, especially when they have curly, dark hair and give you bed eyes.

“This way,” she says, her lips swollen from kissing all the way to her door.

Lando doesn’t have time to adjust, his head already spinning with hundreds of scenarios that fly tirelessly through his mind. However, the only thing that captivates him at the moment is her, and the way her fingers curl into the waistband of his jeans. She tugs him closer, her lips crashing onto his once again, their breaths blending in a frantic exchange of need and uncertainty.

He watches her fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, her movements clumsy but determined. His heart reaches his throat, swallowing hard, as his hands move from her waist to his belt, blindly unbuckling it before tossing it carelessly aside. The sound of leather hitting the floor barely registers over the erratic, overlapping rhythm of them kissing.

Then, he sees it. The spark in her eyes she used to have when she looked at him — it catches him off guard, giving him hope. He follows her as she moves slowly, her back toward the bed, her movements precise, like a cat's. She lies down, propping herself up on her elbows, while he takes cautious steps closer, his shirt hanging open to reveal his chest and toned abs.

But just as he leans forward, her high heel presses lightly against his chest, stopping him.

Lando freezes, his hands bracing on either side of her foot, tracing his palm up and down her leg, as his eyes dart up to meet hers.

“You can look,” she says, catching a glimpse of confusion in his eyes. “But for now, no touching.”

He frowns, clenching his jaw at her request. It would make sense for her to bring him to her place only to torture him, but she can't be that heartless. Right? The sight of her, stretched out on the bed with her foot holding him at bay, is almost too much to handle already.

“You're not fair,” he mutters under his breath, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I don't give a flying fuck about being fair,” she repeats his words from earlier, her foot staying firm against his chest.

The power is in her hands, and she's planning on using them properly tonight.

“No touching,” she repeats, determined.

Lando's hands fall at his sides.

Slowly, she slides her foot down, letting it drag across his chest, making a quick stop on his lower abdomen before settling on the bed. Her gaze locks onto his, a daring glint in her eyes as she spreads her legs, revealing the black lace panties. The dress she's wearing lifts up her thighs of its own accord, leaving Lando chocking on air for a brief moment. His lips part as she trails her fingers down her own body, teasing herself the way she’s done countless nights before.

Nights when he wasn’t there.

Nights when she was alone, chasing a high only his touch could give her.

“Wanna see how I got through five months without you?” she asks, her hands traveling way down, hooking her fingers to pull at the soft material.

His breath hitches, the sight of her undressing before him so painfully slowly making his chest ache with longing and guilt.

“I thought of you,” she continues, letting a small whimper out when the soft lace peels off with a little resistance from her already soaked pussy. “Your hands, your mouth… the way you sound when you're turned on,” she discards the panties at the foot of the bed, her breath catching in her throat as she glances at him through her lashes. “Such a delicious combination between your sleepy voice and that low octave you hit when you're drunk.”

Lando’s mouth goes dry, his hands twitching at his sides, itching to lean over and collect the material off the floor to stuff it into his pocket as a souvenir. He’s never felt so powerless and yet so utterly consumed by someone before.

“Will you let me?” she asks, her lips curving into a smile that’s equally wicked and vulnerable, “Show you?”

Her name leaves Lando’s lips in a protest while he takes an instinctive step forward, but she stops him with her foot once again. It’s a punishment, and he knows it. She’s showing him exactly what he missed, and exactly how she wanted him for so long.

Lando's breath is shallow, his chest rising and falling as he watches her. Helpless. His every nerve is tuned to her, eyes following how her fingers slide so easily between her folds, spreading the wetness as she teases her hole. Of course she’s taking her time with it, only to make sure he registers every tiny detail, just in case he forgot.

Her head tilts to the side with a quiet gasp when she pushes slowly inside. The sound of her wet entrance is enough to make his knees weak, still, his body turns to stone.

On the other hand, his heart is a mess of pride and frustration — pride that she still feels comfortable to be this vulnerable and open in front of him, frustration that he has to see her like this, untouchable. That's why he's not even blinking, too afraid he'll miss a thing.

She starts to gently rock her hips against the bed, fucking her fingers in and out, her body trembling as her whimpers fill the room. It's too much for Lando, but luckily, she didn't say anything about moving. His legs finally give out, and he falls to his knees, the sound of his breath ragged and uneven as he gets closer to her.

Yes, she's in charge — for now, at least — but he can't stop his words slipping out. Quiet, yet demanding.

“Slower,” he says, fixing his eyes on the way her fingers slide over her clit. “Don't rush it, please. I want to see all of you.”

Her gaze meets his, and for a moment, neither of them says anything else. She sees the vulnerability etched into his features, the way his body betrays him, shaking with restraint, completely at her mercy.

He looks like a man unmoored, defeated. So beautiful.

“Lando…” she breaths heavily, her back arching against her own hand, that flattered slightly at his words, a blush creeping up her neck and cheeks.

She hates how much he still affects her, obeying him without questioning his ways. Like no time has passed whatsoever.

When they make eye contact again, it's like they silently agree to go with it; whatever tonight will bring.

“That's is,” says Lando with satisfaction as she resumes her movements. “You gorgeous little thing. So beautiful when you listen, yeah?”

She nods, feeling him leaning forward just slightly, close enough that she can feel his warmth on her skin, without him touching her in any way. The air feels electric, her breath stuttering as she keeps fucking up her fingers under Lando's careful guidance. He watches every motion, his jaw tightening, ignoring the ache in his boxers the moment she finds her sweet spot, crying at how good it feels. She tries to muffle the moan, but Lando catches the hesitation, his eyes narrowing in her direction.

“No, let me hear you. Please, let me hear you,” he implores, exhaling sharply. “God, you're perfect. I could watch you forever.”

Lando can't help but notice how receptive she becomes at his words, her body tightening at the way he's praising her. As a result, she presses her fingers harder onto her clit, feeling the pressure building inside.

“Mhm, Lan…”

“I'm with you, baby. Keep going,” he encourages her, his gaze fixating on the slickness dripping between her legs. “Fucking hell. You're already so close, aren't you?”

It's like every word gets caught in her throat, and the only way she can reply to him is with a pathetic, desperate whimper.

In hindsight, she's never came from her fingers so quickly before, but the wave that’s hitting her from every direction right now is too intense to process right away.

It happens too fast, and the next thing she's aware of is Lando's voice, bringing her back.

“Please,” she hears him beg, managing to give him a slight nod of her head in return.

In that moment, the lights go out. Even so, Lando wants to be patient, as his index finger lightly brushes against her warmth. She exhales, giving up control, her gaze locked on him as if he is the only one that ever knew her. Meticulous, Lando traces his long, rough finger through her wetness, causing a shock to run through her whole body as it moves up and down her clit.

She thought she already crossed her limit, but then he leans down to press his mouth on her — deliberately, unapologetically, thirsty.

Lando lets out a deep, guttural groan that reverberates against her, causing her hips to twitch slightly. His tongue is wet and warm on her pulsating clit, leaving her breathless while he tastes her like it's the last time.

“My sweet, sweet baby,” he whispers, his voice intimate and personal, the words enveloping her in layers and layers of honey.

Feeling his warm breath on her center causes a surge of tension within her, making her walls tighten as his tongue explores within. He can't help but smile just as she leans into him, her body responding naturally, and he grips her thighs, closing the remaining gap between them. At that, she instantly buries her fingers in his curls, her hips mimicking his head movements.

“Oh, fuck,” she exhales abruptly.

The rest is pure bliss — his tongue licking in deep strokes, his muffled moans between her thighs, and the way he can’t seem to let go of her, gripping her tightly because he’s been deprived of her taste for so long.

Just for a brief second, Lando raises his head and, as his gaze remains fixed on her eyes, his mouth sucks gently at her clit. She's never seen him so desperate before, the sight of him owning her like that covering her entire body in chills.

Gradually, his kisses become way too powerful, which forces her to quickly grab his messy curls and pull him closer, unable to control herself anymore.

Without any warning, she screams his name as her climax hits her like a tidal wave for the second time in a row.

His growling makes her thighs quiver in his grasp, the vibrations intensifying her pleasure as her body convulses with each new sensation, while Lando’s tongue continues licking her during every heartbeat and shiver.

Next time she looks at him, his lips shine, his cheeks are red, and his gaze so intense that it causes her heart to skip a beat, creating a connection that seems more profound than any physical sensation she's just experienced.

He didn’t try to give her the best she’s ever had, but attempt to remind her how well he knows her body — to show her she still belongs to him.

“You’re so pretty,” says Lando, keeping his eyes on her, while he presses one finger back inside her cunt to test how thight she is after her second orgasm.

“Lando,” she spits his name at the unexpected touch, still too sensitive, “What… are you doing?” she gasps softly, a mixture between a sigh and a moan, when Lando's finger pulls out and glides across her wet, delicate clit once again.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Lando murmurs against her thigh, his voice low and reverent.

He grins in her direction, while his thumb circles her clit with precise intention, like a wheel gripping the perfect racing line. Sure of himself, Lando continues his movements, realizing how overstimulated she is, as he gets up to hover above her. Her hips buck instinctively into his hand, a jolt of reaction she can’t control.

Seeing Lando on top makes her react on instinct, wrapping one arm around his neck, while the other hand travels down his chest. The heat pooling in her stomach rises fast, an apex she didn’t expect to reach so soon. It’s intoxicating, her body spiraling as her mind blanks out the world beyond him.

“Lan—” she gasps, her back arching as if trying to escape, though every fiber of her betrays that she wants more.

“Come on, baby,” he says, increasing the pace. “You can give me one more. You're doing so well, I know you can,” his voice is a blend of dominance and desire, while his fingers press into her, knowing exactly where to go and how to bend, “Like that, see? So easy for me to read you. I could fuck my fingers into your pretty hole all night long and you'd still come for me every single time, wouldn't you, baby?”

Shaking, she clings to his neck, crying out his name in spasms. He loops his free arm around her, gently kissing her cheek — a gesture so tender and innocent that makes her heart grow ten times in size.

She grips his shoulder with one hand, her eyes closing in pleasure. “I can’t—” she chokes, the words tumbling out between ragged breaths.

In an attempt to get her power back, she tries to push at his wrist, but his arm steadies her, determined.

“Of course you can, love,” says Lando, his voice a gentle command, the firmness in his tone like a driver refusing to lift his foot off the pedal, curious to see how far he can take it.

Her hand clenches around his arm as his thumb presses against her clit with ruthless precision. She reacts on instinct, muscles coiling tight as she bucks against his hand, not sure what controls her body anymore, since her brain got disconnected long ago. The slik rhythm of Lando's fingers becomes too much, and she knows she's close when he starts curling them inside at the perfect angle.

“La— Fuck, baby, that feels so good,” her voice is a high-pitched cry now, laced with desperation. “I’m going—”

“I know, baby. So pretty. Look at you, making such a mess for me,” he urges, leaning in to kiss her neck.

Her body tightens as pleasure explodes within her, blinding and all-consumming — a full-throttle sensation, unrelenting in its intensity. She sobs his name as liquid warmth spills from her pussy, coating Lando’s fingers. He doesn’t stop there, though, his hand continuing its pace, coaxing every last wave of her climax as his arm holds her securely against him.

“God, I've missed you.”

When her breathing slows down, he falls down on top of her, burying his head in the crook of her neck. Her legs shake slightly, and her fingers curl weakly into his bare chest as he cradles her close.

Lando presses a tender kisses against her temple, his voice filling the quiet. “It wasn’t acciedntal,” he confesses.

She blinks rapidly, tilting her head to look at him, confused, “What?”

“Earlier,” Lando clarifies, “You said I was accidentally waltzing back into your life — it wasn’t accidental,” he repeats.

“What do you mean?”

Lando places a few more kisses on the heated skin of her neck, sucking in a couple of bruises, the gesture meant to buy himself more time for the storm raging in his head to stop.

“Lando,” she pulls him out of it.

“Been trying to figure out how to do this for a while. I just… couldn’t stay away from you anymore,” he admits, looking up at her, his eyes pleading. “I had Max playing detective while I was away.”

She pushes him off her to sit up on the bed, pulling at the edges of her dress. “Seriously, what?” her tone is not defensive — at least not yet — but there’s a sharpness to it that cuts into him.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” he rushes to explain, “Look, I didn’t stalk you or anything. Nor Max,” he continues, getting up to stand next to her. “I didn’t even know where you lived until you brought me here. I swear.”

She wraps her arms around her own body, needing something to ground herself, “What did you do, Lando?” the girl asks, her voice quieter now.

He swallows, “I just asked him to check in on you. To see if you were okay.”

“And how did he do that?”

“He saw you tagged in a pic on this girl's account, and then did some research on the people you were with, paid some dudes to find out if their records were clean—” he starts chuckling when her fist hits his shoulder, playfully, but still with intent.

“Don’t be a dick,” she warns, her smile giving away the fact that she’s still amused by his immature sense of humor.

“I just… didn’t want to simply appear out of nowhere if you were happy. If you’d moved on,” Lando continues, his tone more serious now. “But when he told me you seemed like you hadn’t, I couldn’t keep pretending like I was fine. I'm really not.”

His honesty was always a breath of fresh air, but now it's suffocating. Hearing him admitting he's not okay, implying that she's the reason why, is simply heartbreaking.

Her arms drop slowly to her sides, her fingers gripping the edge of the bed, “Why now, Lando? And why not text or call?”

He scoffs, “Can you look me in the eye and tell me honestly that you would have picked up if I called? Especially given how we left things?”

She cups Lando’s chin in the palm of her hand, forcing him to look at her, “I'll always pick up if it's you.”

The admission makes his chest tighten.

Lando shakes his head, “I promise I’ve tried,” he says, “God, I’ve fucking tried. I threw myself into everything, and nothing worked. Racing, training, sim sessions, going out with the guys — no matter what I did, I was constantly thinking of you. Every night out felt wrong because I wasn’t coming home to you. And I know home is such a vague word for me, because I’m mostly away, but you made every single place feel like home, and that's why it didn't matter where I was at the time. I just needed… need you in ways I can't nor want to explain.”

His confession makes her head spin. The breakup had been difficult for her, but she hadn’t considered how Lando had handled the past five months. All along, she had assumed he wouldn’t miss her — that his life, always on the road and consumed by his own pursuits, was too busy to notice the absence of one small, insignificant detail: her.

She's now realizing how wrong she had been to think that way.

“So…?” she finally asks. “Do you think a few orgasms later can mend what was broken five months ago?”

“What? No, of course not,” he says firmly, leaning forward, his elbows digging into his thighs. “I swear, all I wanted to do tonight was talking to you. I didn’t plan on getting to this point, but I can’t say I’m mad about it,” says Lando, taking her hand in his, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “You still want me,” she shoots Lando a rapid look, studying his face, “Just like I want you. I see it, I feel it. Baby, I know it.”

Her heart pounds in her chest, the sincerity in his voice cutting through her defenses like a hot knife through butter. She wants to be angry, to accuse him of being selfish, but the truth is, she isn’t. Maybe it’s foolish to believe him, but one thing Lando never did was lie to her. He did worse, yes, but he never lied.

“Lando...” she starts, but her voice trails off, wishing her head would stop spinning so she could think.

“I know I hurt you,” he continues, his voice softer now, “You hurt me. We hurt each other. But we're too good together not to find a way to make it work .”

She doesn’t respond immediately, her mind racing with memories of their past — the good, especially the bad, and everything else in between. Her fingers toy with the fabric of her dress, her eyes flickering between his face and the floor. The room is heavy with silence and, just for a moment, she lets herself believe that maybe, just maybe, they could find each other again.

Otherwise, if it's meant to fall apart, then let it happen with them gasping for air, tangled together, connected in every way imaginable.

THE MORNING SUN filters shyly through the curtains, soft and golden, spilling across the bed where Lando stirs awake. He’s all alone, the sheets around him rumpled from where she had slept. He blinks up at the ceiling, a little disoriented. Then, he hears the faint sound of running water and realizes she’s in the shower. It makes him feel like everything went back to normal, but he can't be sure of what's going to happen next. He can only speculate and hope, but nothing more than that.

The quiet is interrupted by the persistent buzz of his phone on the nightstand. He reaches for it, still groggy from sleep, scrolling through a handful of texts from last night — banter in the group chat, some Instagram notifications, a few missed calls; nothing too important to catch his eye. He places the phone back on the smooth surface carelessly, and his hand knocks over something solid in the process.

Frowning, he sits up to put it back in its place, and that’s when he sees it — a framed picture of them, taken during a rare quiet weekend in Monaco over a year ago, right at the beginning of their relationship. She looked so happy back then, caught mid-laugh as Lando was gazing at her with an expression so tender that it makes his chest ache now. The weight of the memory hits him harder than he expects, pulling him fully awake.

The sound of the bathroom door opening makes him turn, and he puts the frame back quickly. However, it's enough for her to catch his sudden movement, her eyes flicking to the photo and back to him.

Her cheeks flush a deep pink. “I meant to put that away,” she rushes to say, pulling the towel tighter around her body like it might shield her from the embarrassment.

“Carlos took this one,” his voice is soft, as his eyes shift back to the frame. He picks it up again, turning it in his hands. “You asked me why didn't I call, but… why didn't you call?”

She laughs dryly, crossing the space to take the frame from his and and placing it face down on the nightstand. She sits down next to him, shrugging.

“And tell you what, Lando? That I couldn’t stop thinking about you even though you broke my heart?” she asks, shaking her head, the embarrassment turning into something closer to frustration. “It’s just a stupid picture, anyway. We barely knew each other when it was taken.”

“It’s not stupid,” he contradicts her vehemently. His hand reaches out tentatively, brushing against her soft forearm. “It's nice to know I wasn’t completely crazy for hoping you felt the same.”

Her lips part like she wants to say something, but no words come out. The towel slips slightly, and she clutches it tighter, her defenses crumbling under the weight of his hungry eyes.

“Lando…”

“Leave it there, yeah?” he says, pointing at the picture. “Facing your side of the bed, preferably.”

Seeing her suddenly deep in thought, Lando grabs her wrist and gently pulls her onto his lap, his thumb lightly brushing against her silky skin.

She looks at him, her emotions warring on her face. “If it makes me look less pathetic, it was face down most of the time.”

Lando laughs, his hands finding her waist, then her hips, steadying her on his lap, “I love you,” he says it casually, but it still freezing the blood in her veins.

Her fingers fly towards his mouth to cover his lips, “Don't,” she warns.

“You know I do. I was serious last night. You don't have to decide anything right now, but I'm not going anywhere. It sucks we needed to hurt for a while, we're both at fault, but I never stopped loving you,” he repeats.

“You're so unfair.”

“Don't care, say it back,” he teases, digging his fingers into her skin to tickle her sides.

She starts giggling, “Don't you dare.”

His grin widens, “Or what?” he asks playfully as her hands fly to his, trying to fend him off.

“Lando, I'm serious. Stop it,” her laughter blends with his while he leans in closer, his lips brushing her ear.

“I need to hear it, baby. Please. Just say it back.”

“It back,” she chuckles, feeling his fingers tickling her so mercilessly that tears form in her eyes. Their laughter bubbles over, loud and uninhibited, until she collapses against him. “Okay, fine. Fine,” her breathy voice stops him in place, catching his attention. “I love you, Lando.”

A simple confession; he asked for it. But none of them expected it to hang that heavily between them. It's not a lie — not in the slightest — and Lando knows it.

“Enough to give us a second chance?” he asks.

Her breath catches at the sudden shift in his tone, and before she can reply, his thumb traces her cheek gently.

“I'm so scared,” she admits, leaning into his touch.

Lando sighs, understanding too well where she's coming from, “I know, baby. But I'm even more afraid of losing us again. Losing this…”

His hand slides down her chest, tracing the curve of her breasts. With a gentle movement, he tugs at the corner of her towel, letting it drip smoothly down her body. Patiently, he runs his hands down her waist, moving back up to her chest as they leave goosebumps in their wake. Hungry, his hands rest on her breasts, squeezing them lightly until he feels her nipples in his palms, and she drops her head on his shoulder, whimpering softly.

Memories of last night make her body shudder, feeling the heat between her legs intensifying. Following his lead, her fingers start tugging at the waistband of his boxers, until they slip low on his hips.

Lando moves one hand around her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. He groans against her mouth, his breath hot and ragged, before breaking their connection long enough to kick the boxers aside.

Skin on skin, their bodies align like two puzzle pieces.

She hovers over him, his hands on either side of her, “I wanna take care of you,” he speaks softly, closing his eyes when her forehead rests against his. “Please, let me take care of you.”

There’s a vulnerability in his tone that twists something deep inside her. She's just learned how to be independent again. She can't throw all of it away. She can't let herself slip.

She can't.

“Okay,” she whispers, her voice steady despite the storm raging within her.

Her answer is all that Lando needs to hear. His lips crash back onto hers as he swaps their positions, lowering her onto the bed, his body pressing against hers, warm and solid. And so very real. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word feels like a promise, a vow that he won’t let her slip through his fingers again.

And then, Lando takes control — not the type of dominance he's used to when he steers his car. It's more like devotion; his hands map her body all over again, like a driver learning every twist and turn of a new circuit, his lips following the trail his fingers blaze.

She arches into his touch, responding to him in ways she thought she’d forgotten.

But the body remembers.

And the remembering is, oh, so good.

Last night was just the warm-up, she reckons — an act meant to remind both of them how well they fit together. Lando was gentle, kind, and patient. But now, she sees the shift in him.

His eyes are darker, filled with lust, his touch greedier. She can't help but smile when she realizes that the Lando she knows all too well — the one who’s needy, insatiable, and unrelenting in his desire for her — is still there, and so ready to show off.

Her skin tingles in anticipation as she watches him, knowing exactly what he wants. And for once, she wants it just as much. Maybe even more, considering how her body is acting independently from her brain.

She wants him to give her everything, to burn through her until she’s left gasping and wet and ruined, and she’s ready to meet his hunger with her own.

But before that, “We're not done talking,” she tells him, breathing heavily against his mouth.

“Yeah, we'll talk. Stay with me and we'll talk all you want, baby.”

She wants to protest, but her air gets knocked out of her lungs and her fingernails sink into his shoulders when Lando nudges the head of his cock up and down her slit to collect the wetness. With a gentle kiss on her jaw, she closes her eyes, tracing her fingers down his arms as he pushes inside.

They both exhale, relieved that they're back where they belong.

Talking can wait.

Lando's hands grip her waist just as he pulls out, only to push back in, all the way to the hilt in one slow, but hard thrust. The feeling is almost too much for her, which is ridiculous since he just started moving. But she feels so full, and the sounds he lets out only make her open up for him even more.

“Wait, wait,” she can barely recognize her own voice, stopping Lando when their hips touch together.

She can't explain it, but she needs it.

“What's wrong?”

She looks down between their bodies, confusing Lando even more. “I…,” she begins, but she's not sure how she's supposed to voice her need.

“It's okay, you can tell me,” he assures her, bringing his hand to cup her face in his palm, tracing his thumb over her cheek.

“I—need a second to feel you,” she explains, pushing his hand away only to trace her palms over her face.

Lando chuckles, “Baby, don't hide from me. You're driving me fucking mad when you're blushing.”

“I'm not blushing,” she contradicts him, raising her hips against his, her walls hugging him tighter with every move.

“No?” whispers Lando roughly as if he lost his voice. “God, you're perfect. So good, so fucking sweet and perfect around me, baby.”

Her legs tighten around his waist, keeping him inside, while one hand moves to his lower back to push him against her even more. There is no physical space left between them, but she still wants more. It only makes Lando's cock throb inside her pussy, giving her a few more seconds to adjust to his length before he pulls all the way out and slides back, searching for the perfect pace.

“Fuck, Lando,” she whines, burying her fingers into his hair, tugging at the roots.

“Yes, I know,” agrees Lando, his eyes flicking over her face. His insides tighten at the sight of her parting her lips in pleasure, her breathing hot and irregular. “You're so beautiful from this angle.”

“Shut up,” she cuts him off, which makes Lando chuckle again.

“Why would I?” he asks, leaning closer to her ear, while thrusting a couple more times before pausing. “You look like a fucking goddess taking my cock so well.”

She squeezes her eyes shut at the sound of his voice, low and raspy, rocking her hips to find that sweet friction against her walls again.

“Keep,” she whines, “Keep going, then. Let me have it.”

Lando presses his lips on hers at the same time he resumes his movements, his hands roaming all over her body.

“You can have my cock, baby,” he groans into her hair. “All yours.”

She nods, wrapping her fingers around his biceps, “Yeah?”

“Promise you,” says Lando.

After that, he picks up pace, both falling into an agonizing rhythm. All this time, she had thought that familiarity might dull the edge of being with Lando, that knowing his moves would make it predictable and boring, maybe even ordinary.

Somehow, it’s the exact opposite.

It’s because she knows him, and he knows her so well, that every touch feels ecstatic, every kiss charged with meaning. He doesn’t need to guess what she likes; he already knows how to unravel her, how to leave her trembling and breathless. And she knows exactly what will make his breath hitch, how to draw out that low, desperate groan that ignites her own fire.

In a way, every time feels like the first, but it's always much better, because they know how to make each other fall apart like no one else can.

“Please,” she gasps, breathing wetly in his shoulder. “Harder.”

One thing about Lando, he's always been good at listening. Without thinking twice, he tightens his grip on her hips, fucking his cock inside her harder and faster than before. In an instant, her ears are blessed with the way his moans sound.

“God, I've missed fucking my pretty girl like this,” says Lando, his hands moving on her thighs to spread her more so he can slide in faster. “It's never like this, baby, fuck.”

Being with Lando is chaos, the kind of beautiful, consuming chaos that leaves everything around them in shambles. They are loud and messy, and everything is sweaty and wet and sticky. He kisses her like he’s starving, touches her like he’s desperate to memorize every inch of her skin, and she matches his fervor, meeting him with the same wild energy that pulls them under. Together.

“Lando,” she spits his name out of her mouth in short spasms. “Lando, Lan… Lando.”

It's almost like a cry for help, but she doesn't need saving. Not when he's fucking her so good, slamming against her over and over again, until the outside world fades away and all she remembers is his name.

“Lando,” she whimpers again.

“Keep me in, love. Like that,” she can barely hear him over the sound of skin slapping on skin. “Fuck. You're taking me so well, I won't stop fucking you, baby. I won't—”

She sucks in a breath of air, her body buzzing with pleasure. Wrapping her arms around his torso, she can feel how hot and sweaty his chest is. She moves with him for a couple more thrusts before she lets go, the sound of Lando fucking in and out of her while she comes so obscene that it makes her eyes roll.

“I'll never get tired of seeing you coming like that,” says Lando, pinning her to the bed, his cock feeling so fucking good inside of her that it makes him see stars. “So fucking hot, baby.”

Her nails scratch the skin of his back as her pussy clenches around his length, forcing another hiss out of Lando's mouth.

“Don't stop,” she manages to say, even though she feels her throat raw.

“Ah, look at you, now. Being so good for me,” says Lando with a smirk, tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Letting me fuck you when you're sore and spent. And so wet, baby, you're dripping all around my cock. Fucking hell.”

Lando's jaw clenches, a visible battle playing out in his face as his breath hitches. She feels him moving deeper, hitting the sweet spot inside her, sending ripples of pleasure through her body with every thrust.

“Yes—fuck. Don't stop,” she repeats.

His eyes widen as he tries to hold on for as long as he can, but it's hard when he flashes his eyes in her direction and catches her already looking. It doesn't take long for him to realize there's a replica to her first orgasm. He nods, without saying anything else, bringing his hand up to her neck. She places hers on top of his, not to push it away, but to let it rest there as a sign that it's fine to claim her if that's what Lando needs.

And that's enough for him to lose it.

“Baby,” he breaths out, fucking her slopply, any sense of order dissolving under the weight of their eye contact.

She arches into him, her fingers trembling as they rise to cup his face.

“Keep your eyes on me,” she demands, her voice a desperate need.

She pictured that face thousands of times in the past months, but nothing compares to this. Lando groans at the command, his hooded gaze staying on hers. The intensity of his expression nearly undoes her again — his pupils blown wide, lips parted as he lets out s string of cuss words.

“That's it, pretty boy,” she whispers, her thumb brushing over his cheek as he moves inside her, his pace faltering for just a moment before he snaps back into thay sloppy rhythm, chasing his release. “Want to see you when you let go.”

She barely finishes her sentence when his orgasm crashes over him like a tsunami; no one would be able to even tell where she begins and where he ends.

Lando looks so beautiful and wrecked, and she drinks in every second of his surrender.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

When his features soften, she sees how vulnerable he is, and it leaves her breathless.

Satisfied and content, her fingers still trace his face, wanting to remember the exact way he looks in this moment, when he is completely hers.

Unable to support his weight, Lando collapses on top of her, feeling his body as light as a feather, which is so far from the truth. But she doesn't mind; she loves the feeling, actually. She loves the heaviness, and the way he keeps his cock tucked deep inside her, wet and softening slowly, not allowing his cum to leak out of her.

Descending back down from their high, the only sounds in the room are their slowing breaths and the soft rustle of the sheets. It's hard not to notice the weight of reality when it begins to creep in around the edges.

She lies beneath him, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on his back, but her mind is miles away.

“When are you leaving?” she finally asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando tenses for a moment, then shifts to lie beside her, propping his head on his hand to look at her. The vulnerability in her eyes twists something deep inside him.

She swallows hard, suddenly flooded by all the reasons they had fought, all the late nights filled with misunderstandings and misaligned priorities. She remembers all the reasons why they broke up, and thinking how bad of an idea this has been. Because, how can she let go of him again, without feeling like she'll be losing both her head and heart in the process.

“On Tuesday,” says Lando softly. “But not how you think.”

Her brow furrows in confusion as she turns to face him. “What do you mean?”

Lando leans over, his hand caressing her cheek as he gathers his thoughts.

“I’ve been thinking about us for months. Since you left, actually,” he begins, his voice low and deliberate. “I had a lot of time, and I managed to figure out why it didn’t work before, why I couldn’t give you what you deserved. So… I’ve talked to the team.”

She almost stops breathing, her eyes widening in his direction while she waits for him to continue. Months ago, she would've die to have this conversation, and now that it happens, she doesn't know how to behave.

“I'm working on a schedule. To have more time for us,” Lando explains.

Her heart skips a beat. “You’d do that?”

“For us,” he repeats, his voice firm. “I can’t keep pretending I’m okay without you. I don't want to be okay without you, it's stupid. And I don’t want to keep coming back here, hoping for a second chance, only to mess it up again. I want to get it right this time.”

She stares at him, not knowing what to do with that information. This is not the Lando she knows. The recklessness and impulsivity got replaced by caution and planning the steps ahead. It's new, and exciting, and it makes her tear up.

“And what if it still doesn’t work?” she asks, her voice small.

He leans closer, his forehead touching hers. “It will.”

His tone is so definitive that she can't say anything else, letting the silence stretch between them as she searches Lando's face for any sign of hesitation.

There’s none.

“How... did you actually know where to find me last night?”

Lando smirks, studying her face with half-closed eyes, bringing his hand to her jaw. “That friend of yours posted on her story. Honestly, I didn’t know you were going to be there. But I hoped.”

She shakes her head, scoffing, “Stalker behavior.”

Lando shrugs nonchallantly, “I just happened to be nearby,” he chuckles.

“Lucky me,” she says, tracing the contour of his nose with her finger, stopping on his jaw.

“Lucky us,” he corrects, pulling her in for another kiss.

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2024

[fireinmoonshot]

your fiyero | fiyero tigelaar x reader

Pairing: Fiyero Tigelaar x Reader Summary: Ever since Fiyero Tigelaar started at Shiz University, he found himself fascinated by you – the one student who didn't care about him. When he notices you starting to struggle with something, he'll do anything to make sure you're okay. Warnings: Mentions of fainting, falling over, academic stress/burn out Word Count: 2.2k A/N: I've seen Wicked (the show) three times now with the amazing Australian cast that's currently touring and I fell totally head over heels with Fiyero, and then yesterday I saw the movie and fell even more in love with Fiyero and so I had to write for him. I do intend to write more for him, especially if other people want to read more! He's so fun to write for and definitely a challenge compared to some other characters I've written for in the past. I hope you all enjoy! 💗

It’s not difficult to sense the presence of Fiyero Tigelaar behind you as you leave Doctor Dillamond’s classroom, shoving your books into the bag over your shoulder. With the way the students heading into the classroom are staring at someone behind you, it’s quite obvious who they’re staring at. Everyone at Shiz University wants Fiyero Tigelaar. 

Everyone, that is, except you.

“Classes are over, you know?” Fiyero’s voice comes from behind you as you round the corner, heading down the staircase leading to the courtyard. “You don’t have to rush off.”

Irritatingly, the fact that you can’t particularly care less about wanting Fiyero Tigelaar makes himwant you. He usually isn’t the type. If someone doesn’t like him – something he’s actually yet to experience – he would just let it slide. Why waste his energy? But ever since he’d started at Shiz and met you, he’d found himself unable to leave you alone. 

“I know,” you glance back at him over your shoulder. “But some of us actually want to study and spend their time here learning, Tigelaar.”

Fiyero hurries his steps a little so he’s walking alongside you. “Did you miss the part where I said it was my job to corrupt my fellow students when I started here? It’s never too late, darling.” He flashes a grin your way.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at him, right at the same time you almost miss a step and stumble a little. Fiyero is quick, catching your elbow to help steady you. You don’t look at him as you steady yourself, meaning you miss the look of worry in his eyes.

“Are you all right?”

You clear your throat and shake off his grip. “Consider me corrupted by your presence.” 

With that, you make a beeline away from him and you’re glad to notice that he doesn’t attempt to follow you. You highly doubt that he’s going to follow you all the way to the library. Fiyero and the library have never exactly gone hand in hand. 

~~

The next time Fiyero bothers you, you’re sat on one of the benches by the gardens. There’s a book in your hands and he can see you staring intently at it as he saunters over to you. It’s almost like he’s approaching a wild bird or something, he thinks. If he moves too quickly, he’ll frighten you and scare you away. It’s the last thing Fiyero wants to do.

He’s a few steps away from you when you look up from your book and meet his eyes. His face breaks into a smile as he moves the last few steps and takes the spot beside you on the bench. You turn to look at him, your eyebrows raised. 

“Now, don’t say I’m interrupting your study,” he begins. “That book is most definitely not in the curriculum. And yes, I did actually take the time to look the curriculum up after I saw you reading here the other day, if you can believe it.”

For a few moments, you only stare at him. Fiyero, for the first time probably ever, finds himself actually a little uncomfortable at your unwavering gaze. It surprises him. He’s never the type of person to feel uncomfortable. He’s confident in almost every situation.

You let out a sigh. “It may not be in the curriculum, but you’ve interrupted me nevertheless, Tigelaar.”

“Apologies,” he says, with a small smirk. “Am I corrupting you even more with my presence?”

“Something like that.” You close your book and sit it on the small space of bench beside you. You had actually just been reading the same page over and over for the last twenty minutes and trying to convince yourself to stop overthinking things. 

You had so much studying to do, so much to learn and so many assignments to do and so little time to do it all. It was probably a little counterproductive to be sitting outside, reading a book and doing none of those things, but if you didn’t try and have a break from them all, you were pretty sure you were going to burn yourself out, which was the last thing you needed. It would have helped if you’d actually been able to relax and enjoy your book, though.

“Is it any good? Your book. Not that I’d read it, of course,” Fiyero grins.

You try your best to conceal your amusement. “I’d offer to lend it to you but, as you said, you wouldn’t actually read it so… I’ll keep it safe with me. I doubt the Winkie Prince knows how to properly take care of books if he can’t read them.”

Fiyero gasps jokingly. “I’ll have you know I can read, I just choose not to. I prefer to fill my brain with much more useless things. That way, I don’t have to think. It’s a peaceful way to live, my darling.” 

You shake your head, this time unable to keep a smile off of your face. Fiyero likes the sight of it. It strangely makes his heart beat a little faster. He can’t actually remember the last time he saw you smiling… not that he’s been keeping track. 

“How about you join me?” He offers. “No more studying for the rest of the day and no more thinking? I’m positive I could find something we could do to fill the time.” 

The reminder of studying, however, brings you back to reality after you small moment of joking with Fiyero. You reach down and grab your book before standing up and turning to face Fiyero, who is looking at you with slight concern in his eyes at your sudden movement.

“I can’t,” you say simply. “I’ve been reading all morning and there is a lot I have to do. I’ll see you around, Tigelaar.”

He watches you with furrowed eyebrows as you walk away from him, clutching your book to your chest and heading in the direction of the library. Fiyero shakes his head and lets out a small laugh. He really thought today would be the day he’d win you over.

~~

A week goes by without Fiyero even getting to utter a word to you. He sees you, though, fairly often around the school. In the courtyard, in the library (where he definitely didn’t go specifically looking for you), in history class and in the dining hall. But every time he’s thought to approach you, you’ve disappeared before he could even make his move. It’s on the seventh day when he notices that something is different about you.

You’re coming out of the library, carrying several books and what looks like a stack of papers in your hands when you trip. Fiyero isn’t quick enough to cross the courtyard and get to you in time to stop your fall. He does, however, take off at a run to be by your side as you start collecting all of the scattered pieces of paper and books that had fallen out of your grasp.

“It’s all right, Tigelaar. You don’t have to help me,” you mutter, trying to shove books into your already overfilled bag. “It’s a Friday night. I’m sure you’ve got other places to be.”

Fiyero, truthfully, does have other places to be. He’s been invited to the Ozdust Ballroom by nine separate people today. But how can he leave you to just clean all this up by yourself? He can see just by the look on your face that you’re utterly exhausted.

“I do,” he says honestly. “But I’ll help you with this first.”

He’s surprised when you suddenly stop putting things in your bag and when he looks up, he finds you staring at him again. It makes him uncomfortable in the same way he felt last week when you’d looked at him in a similar way. 

“Okay,” you sigh. 

Your lack of energy in fighting him is the second thing to make Fiyero realise something is wrong.

After the two of you finish picking up all of the things you’d dropped, the both of you stand. Fiyero opens his mouth to say something when he notices you start to sway. He’s quicker this time, moving to catch you before you fall. His arm wraps around your waist to keep you steady, while his other hand takes the book bag off your shoulder and moves it straight onto his. He’s surprised by how heavy it is. 

“Woah, darling, what’s going on?” Fiyero looks down at you as you blink and push yourself away from him. “Hey, be careful, okay? I think you were just about to faint.”

You shake your head. “I just stood up too fast, that’s all.” You know the words are a lie, and you can tell that Fiyero knows that as well. First, he’d seen you trip coming out of the library, then he’d caught you when you’d almost fainted… you can’t hide it from him. That much becomes crystal clear immediately.

“Let’s get you somewhere you can sit down, okay?” Fiyero begins. “May I?” He gestures to you, asking silently if he can wrap an arm around you to support you incase you fall over again. 

You nod and allow him to guide you just around the corner into the small seating area off to the side of the library. It’s dark, the lanterns not being lit yet despite the fact that the sun had gone down over twenty minutes ago.

“I swear I’m not usually this clumsy,” you say sheepishly. “That’s twice you’ve stopped me from falling in the last two weeks… I suppose I should say thank you, Fiyero.”

Fiyero sits you down gently on the bench and sits your book bag down on the ground. He crouches down in front of you and reaches up to take your hands in his. He’s surprised when you don’t immediately pull away from him. “I don’t think you’ve ever called me by my first name before.”

“Oh,” you think on it for a second, trying to ignore the warm feeling of his hands and how comforting it is. “I guess I haven’t. Sorry, Tigelaar.”

“No, no,” Fiyero shakes his head. “Don’t go back to that. I like when you call me Fiyero.”

“Well, I suppose it is your name,” you offer a small smile.

“There’s that gorgeous smile,” Fiyero smiles back at you and squeezes your hands. “Now, are you gonna tell me why you almost just fainted on me and why you’re clumsier than you usually are, darling?”

You stay silent for a few moments and just when Fiyero begins to think that you might just brush him off and try to make a quick exit like you did last week, you start to speak.

“I haven’t really been sleeping well lately,” you admit quietly. “I’ve had so much work to do, I fell behind on my assignments and I took on some extra work from Doctor Dillamond and… despite my best efforts, I guess I let myself get a little burnt out.”

Fiyero looks at you with his eyes full of pity and you hate it. 

“Anyway,” you clear your throat, “that’s not important. Why would you care?”

Your attempt to make light of the situation fails spectacularly, judging by the look that Fiyero gives you afterwards. You’ve never seen him look that unimpressed before. 

“Of course I care,” he says, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Why, though?” You can’t help but ask. “Why are you so fixated on me?”

Fiyero sighs and moves to sit beside you, letting go of your hands in the process. “If you’ll allow me to be honest with you for a moment,” he starts, “I suppose… you’re the only person at Shiz that doesn’t treat me like the perfect Winkie Prince that everyone thinks I am. You’re the only person that doesn’t think I’m perfect, and half the time you act like you can’t stand to be around me, and for some reason that only makes me want to be around you more.” 

“Are you not the perfect Winkie Prince?” You ask.

Fiyero grins. “Oh, not in the slightest, darling. But let’s keep that between us. I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine. How does that sound?” 

You don’t even try to hide the smile that comes to your face at his words. “You promise you won’t tell anyone about what happened today?”

“I promise,” he nods. “But only on one condition: you tell Doctor Dillamond you can’t complete the extra work you signed up for and you take a break to make sure you get plenty of rest before diving into your other assignments. I’m sure I can sweet talk some of the Professors if you need help.” 

He smiles as you hit him with the same look as before, but for the first time, he doesn’t find himself feeling uncomfortable at the sight of it. Now, he finds it slightly amusing and incredibly endearing. He has always found you endearing, he supposes.

“Sweet talking my Professors will not be necessary,” you chuckle. “But okay. It’s a deal. And I’ll keep your secret too. You can continue to be the perfect Winkie Prince to everyone… except me.”

Fiyero laughs. “I’ll just be your Fiyero, then.”

“My Fiyero?” You repeat after him, eyebrows raised. 

He ignores the way his heart beats faster at the sound of those words coming out of your mouth. 

“Yes, your Fiyero,” he hums. 

“Everyone will think that you finally corrupted me after all this time,” you joke, voice teasing. “I’ll just be like everyone else at Shiz. Part of the Fiyero Tigelaar fan club.”

Fiyero fixes you with a look. “Oh, darling. You could never be like everyone else.” 

[the-fab-fox]

Holy shit this is exactly what I'm feeling with right the fuck now

Y'all in order countries. This is America's Healthcare System which should really be called the Healthcare Industry at this point because they make money while we (the poor on state insurance) get sicker and sicker and die cause there's just not enough clinics and things that accept state insurance.

It's all by design. And now trump plans to get rid of most if not all public programs and state programs that were created to help those in need and those whom are disabled or otherwise ill so soon the largest socioeconomic class (not the highest) will be the majority of the US. Which is as stated. Mostly poor and impoverished.

They are literally killing us all off and don't seem to care who knows. I don't trust the government, I don't trust the politicians. They literally call themselves career politicians. They don't actually care about us except how each party can use us to further their causes and take their aggressions.

This isn't a free county.

I'm not sure it ever was, really.

Except for those in power and those who are rich. (Which includes the private pay, no state insurance accepted, doctors. The ones who took an oath to take care of patients and make them the priorities. Yeah them. Doctor's like that only exist on the big and small screens. In books.

Basically... It's fiction when it comes to a large number of doctors. (Though there are many doctors who are good and do listen even though they are over worked by cases and things like that but we have to sift through all the clinics to find one. It can be done though. My doctor is amazing and she's so kind and actually listens and we discuss rather than I get told and don't get to have a speak except for a few utterances before I'm cut off by the next question.)

Money. Greed. Money. Greed.

That's what was hidden behind their 'Freedom'.

But it's always been about money. Just watch Hamilton on Disney+.

Rich people except in very rare instances literally must have been willing to step on the backs of others to get as rich as they are.

Doesn't sound much like freedom and equality to me. (And I don't exist in the eyes of trump.)

Sending epic classy vibes and setting the intention that your week/end is absolutely fabulous and the universe gives you everything you need to thrive. So mote it be.)

*doctor voice* hmmmm…..have you tried this revolutionary method called painmaxxxing? it is where you do not bother me and adjust to being in agony all the time and we do nothing to resolve the root cause or treat the symptoms. you don’t wish to try painmaxxxing? you’re being non-compliant with the treatment plan I have just provided you?

[p1astr81]

Just a Prank

in which: Lando has his friends over, and while his roommate is taking a shower, they decide to play a prank on her. Oscar is the one to come to her rescue.

pairing: Oscar Piastri x Lando’s roommate!reader

warnings: uni au, fluff, bullying lowkey, use of y/n, a little objectifying, my first fic so pls don’t be rude

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧

Y/N just got off work, and she desperately needed a shower.

Wanting to become a physiotherapist, she worked part-time at a private secondary school alongside the athletic trainer to make some money while she studied at uni. She was helping one of the football athletes. He’d sprained his ankle earlier in the season, and she was having him do a few exercises to rebuild his strength in that foot.

Long story short, three boys came in asking for her to tape up their knees. Before she could say anything, one of the boys “tripped” and spilled an entire can of Red Bull down the front of her. The nice football player offered his shirt to her, but she politely declined. She’d remained in the sticky clothes for the rest of the day. And as soon as she got home, she jumped in the shower.

Conveniently, her roommate, Lando Norris, forgot to tell her that he invited a bunch of his friends over. So a quarter of the way through her shower, the shared apartment became filled with boys.

“What is taking her so long? I have to piss,” Keegan complained. Lando just shrugged. “Oh!” Carlos exclaimed, like a lightbulb just went off in his head. “Let’s play a prank on her.” He suggested. “Like turn off the lights?” Max Fewtrell asked. “Or turn off her music.” Ginge grumbled. The pop music was blasting, filling the apartment with the vocals of various pop girls.

“I was thinking more like take her clothes,” Carlos said, a mischievous tone about his voice. Lando laughed. “Just say you want to see my roommate naked, mate.”

Oscar thought they should leave her be, but he wasn’t friends with everyone in the room. Only Lando. And he didn’t want to be labeled as a kill joy, so he stayed silent.

“It’s not just me, I think everyone wants a piece of her.” Carlos defended himself, glancing at the others in the room who hesitantly nodded along—well, except for Oscar. “You’ve got your share already, haven’t you?”

Lando shook his head. “Nope, she sees me as a ‘friend’.” He shared, unamused. The room winced at the fact he’d been friendzoned. Carlos got up from the couch, and headed down the hallway where the bathroom was located.

Y/N heard the door open and groaned. “Lando how many times do I have to tell you, you have to knock before coming in.” You scolded, but instead of the usual sassy response you’d receive, it was silence. The door clicked closed, and you peaked your head out, not noticing anything different immediately.

Carlos emerged from the hallway. “Got the clothes, and the towel.” He held up the items proudly. The group of them cheered. Something inside Oscar’s stomach twisted. These aren’t the people he thought he befriended.

after around fifteen minutes, the shower water turned off, and her music followed quickly after. “Lando!” She shouted but got no reply. So she stuck her head out of the door. “Lando! Give me my stuff back!” She demanded. This time, she was met with laughter. She quickly realized it wasn’t just Lando in the apartment. Panic set in.

Her roommate seeing her without clothes on was one thing. She could live with that embarrassment. He accidentally walked in on her changing once before. But by the sounds of it, there were at least five other people out there. The status of their phones—whether they would be recording or not—was completely unknown to her.

She shut the bathroom door, and began scheming. Her first thought was the shower curtains, but the rust had fused the clips of the cheap hangers together. She could use the hand towel, but that wouldn’t cover much. Toilet paper wasn’t an option, as there was so little left in the roll that it would help just about as much as the hand towel. She was left with pleading.

She stuck her head out the door again. “Lando, come on. Just give me a bath towel at least.” All she heard was laughter. “I’ll buy you take-away for a week.” She tried to bargain. Again, only laughter. She huffed. Knowing most of Lando’s friends were pining after her, she tried to bargain with, “I’ll kiss every one of you if you just give me a towel.” There was no laughter immediately, as if they were actually considering it. It gave her a little bit of hope. But it shattered moments later as they began to laugh again.

Seeing as bargaining didn’t work, she was reduced to begging. “Lando, please.” They only laughed harder, but their laughter was soon replaced with cries of disappointment. “Mate, don’t.” “Come one man don’t be a wet blanket.” “Dude she was gonna have to come out eventually.”

Her saving grace appeared at the end of the hallway, her towel in his hands. While the hallway was dimly lit, the floppy hair on his head couldn’t be mistaken for anyone else. Oscar was always her favorite out of all Lando’s friends.

He stopped in front of her. The bathroom light illuminated his face enough for her to see his small smile. “Thank you so much.” Her words came out with a sigh of gratitude. His smile widened as he nodded, his hair flopping along with his head.

She closed the door on him, and re-emerged seconds later with the towel wrapped about her. “Oscar,” she called to the man who was stood at the end of the hall. He turned to her with a raised brow as she caught up with him. She took his arm, passing the group of booing boys on the way to her bedroom.

She brought Oscar into her room and locked the door behind them. “Oh, no. I didn’t do that to get anything in return.” He quickly said, his eyes wide. He did not want her to feel like she was obligated to give him something.

“Trust me, I know.” She smiled. “You’ve always been my favorite out of all of Lando’s friends. You’re the only polite one.” She shared while digging through her dresser for new pajamas. Carlos was still holding her other ones hostage.

“Oh, uhm, thanks.” He scratched the back of his neck. He was looking everywhere except at her. “Turn around for me.” She requested, and he quickly listened.

His cheeks went red when he heard her towel drop. He wanted to take a peak. Like the other boys, he did think you were very attractive. But unlike the other boys would have, he didn’t try to steal a glance at you. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re very good looking?” She asked.

“My grandma called me handsome once.” He shared. Her laughter rang out, the angelic sound floating right to his ears and making his head feel a little lighter. “Funny, good looking, and polite. It’s a wonder you haven’t been locked down yet.” She laughed again.

Oscar didn’t know what to say to that, so he just laughed awkwardly. “I’m sorry, I’m probably making this really weird. I just wanted to thank you.” She apologized, her voice sincere. Oscar shook his head quickly. “It’s not weird, and you don’t need to thank me.” She heard in his voice how nervous he was, and smiled softly at him. “You can turn around now, by the way.” He did, and bit back a laugh at the set of hot-pink pug pajamas she’d put on. “Don’t laugh. They’re all I have clean.” She sighed.

“‘M not laughing.” He stated, though his voice was very clearly on the verge of breaking into hysterics. He couldn’t help it, and after a few seconds let out a little chuckle. “Yeah, alright. You can get back to your friends now. Sorry for keeping you.”

“Eh,” Oscar stammered. “I’m a bit afraid to go back out there, if I’m honest.” He confessed with a nervous glance toward the door. She shrugged. “You could stay here with me. I don’t mind. I was just going to watch a few episodes of Brooklyn 99 before going to sleep.”

He hesitated. “If you truly don’t mind.” She shook her head and scooted over to make room for him in the bed next to her.

Morning arrived, and when Oscar stretched his limbs, he found himself unable to move a great part of the left side of his body. Glancing down to investigate the problem, he found y/n at it’s source. He realized he never left her room last night, and as a result, they fell asleep together.

Slowly, he sunk back into the mattress, doing his best to keep her from waking. She looks inexplicably tranquil beside him. A small smile graced her lips as her head laid on his chest. An arm of hers was draped across his torso, and she had a leg laying cross his, disabling his ability to move them freely. He didn’t mind, though. In fact, he found himself at peace.

Despite his attempt at not disturbing her, she began to stir. She blinked repeatedly, trying to wake herself up. She let out a sigh before lifting her eyelids. She looked up at Oscar through her lashes. “Oh,” she muttered, lazily pulling herself away from him. “Sorry about that.” She apologized. Oscar found her groggy voice somewhat endearing. “I suppose you should get going, then.” She stood, stretching her arms toward the sky.

Oscar nodded. “Only if you let me take you out tonight.” He didn’t know where the confidence came from, and as soon as he got the words out, he began apologizing. “I’m so sorry. I’m not normally- I didn’t mean-“

“Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.” She interrupted his fumbling, smiling warmly at him. “I’ll walk you out.”

On their way out, they passed Lando, who was toasting pop tarts. “Have a fun night?” He asked bitterly.

“Calm down, we didn’t fuck.” She rolled her eyes before adding, “If we did, you definitely would’ve heard.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He waved her off. “All the guys aren’t too fond of you now.” He told Oscar, who shrugged. “They’re not the kind of blokes I care to be friends with, anyway.” Y/n smiled up at him.

“Oh!” She hummed, facing Lando. “and you’re going to have to cook your own food tonight. We’re going out.”

Lando rolled his eyes as the toaster popped from behind him.

[fungateshortcakes]

Tummy ache

Do I have kids? No. Do I want kids? Fuck no. Did I still write this because dad logan makes me feel a certain type of way? HELL YES

Pairing: Worst!Logan x single mom!Reader

Summary: It's late and your little daughter Laura won't stop crying and screaming, no matter what you do. You take her to your best friend Wade, who lives in the same apartment buildung. Will he and Logan be able to help you?

Wordcount: 3.4k

Warning/tags: english is not my first language, fluff, slight missunderstandings, Wade bc he needs a warning, implied sexual themes, friends to lovers, just cuteness, Laura doesn't exists as an adult like in the movie, rushed ending?, leave me alone I finished this at midnight

__________________________________

Logan was snoring on the couch in Wades apartment when loud, frantic knocks sounded on the door. He grumbled in annoyance as he turned, pulling a pillow over his head.

He heard Wade skip to the door in a pair of white underpants with hearts on them and a loose, grey wolverine fangirl shirt. "Must be the horse dildo I ordered" he spoke happily as if it was the most normal thing to say. Once Wade opened the door, the piercing shrieks of a baby crying echoed through the apartment.

You held your one year and a half old daughter in your arms, her face red as she cried into your shoulder. Wade noted that your hair was a mess and you seemed awfully tired. Well- it was late and on any other day, you and your daughter would already be sleeping. But there was clearly something that bothered her. She had been crying and screeching and in discomfort for an hour without you finding what caused it or how to fix it.

You tried feeding her, but she wouldn't open her mouth for the spoon. You tried reading to her, but she would always push away the books. You changed her diapers in case her sensitive skin was irritated by the dampness, but she hadn't peed. You didn't know why she was so distressed and nothing seemed to distract her from whatever it was that made her cry.

You were desperate. And while your best friend Wade wasn't really...fond of kids, which you couldn't blame him for, you still went to him for help. You never truly wanted kids yourself. But when the condom broke and your ex left you upon finding out you were pregnant, you were stuck with your baby. And now you wouldn't trade her for the world. Except in times where she was screaming with no appearant reason. "Hey Wade, I'm so sorry to bother you guys this late at night, but Laura, she won't stop crying. I've tried everything and I don't know what to do" you croaked, rocking the small child in your arms, shushing her to no avail.

Wade brought you inside so you wouldn't stay outside in the hallway any longer. No need for some neighbors to peek their head out of their doors to see what was going on.

In situations like these, Wade could be oddly serious and actually tried to help. He knew you were insecure because of your baby. You didn't want to be a nuisance or burden to anyone because you knew that your daughter could be a lot. Kids were high maintanance and you didn't want to make people feel like they were obligated to make room and drop everything once you arrived with your child. You couldn't expect from anyone that they were okay with you bringing your kid over. But Wade wanted you to know that even though he didn't like kids, you were his best friend and Laura had been nothing but a sweetheart so far. You were always welcome in his apartment.

Wade kicked Logan from the couch "Get your fat ass off the couch, the Lady needs a place to sit" he loudly said over Lauras crying. Logan groaned. You sat on the sofa and tried to take up as little space as possible. "Im sorry Logan, didn't want to disturb your sleep." you apologized meekly. "I can..I can move to the chair here" you muttered, pointing to an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair that replaced an armchair, which had recently been thrown out of the apartment due to mysterious stains and various rips and cuts in the fabric.

You had met Logan a few times since he lived with Wade and Althea. And you would be a liar if you said he didn't catch your eye. He was tall, broad and very handsome, pretty much right up you alley. But there was no way he was looking for a chaotic single mother that barely had her life together and struggled to raise an unplanned child because her ex left her. Yeah, no. You were miserable. Logan didn't need any of that.

Adding to that, he always seemed to avoid you when Laura was near. You just thought he didn't like kids, which was totally fair. Truthfully, Logan liked kids and had always wanted some of his own, but it just...never happened. With him being the worst wolverine and all.

Then why did he avoid you and your baby?

Simply said, he didn't want to scare her. Most kids looked at him like he was some sort of big, bad monster. Some ran away, some started crying, others hid from him behind their parents when he walked by. He wasn't good with children either because they never let him close enough before getting scared. He was afraid that Laura would react the same way like all children did. He didn't want you to back away once you realised that Laura didn't approve of him.

He couldn't bear only seeing you from afar.

As you were about to stand up from the couch, Logan stopped you. "No, its fine. Stay on the couch. I can move" he replied and you felt another pang as he moved away from you again.

Wade leaned over the couch, looking down at Laura who was still wailing uncontrollably. You sighed deeply, a throbbing ache behind your eyes. "Why won't you stop crying? What's wrong, sweetheart?" you nearly sobbed as well. You were so tired of this, so tired of this sound. You felt so helpless and stupid. "Maybe she wants some food? We have some left-over pizza, I can grind that stuff up into a slurry for her or something" Wade suggested.

You softly shook your head. "She doesn't want to eat, I tried. I also tried to read her a bedtime story, but she just push me away. I also changed her diapers but nothing helped" you rasped, ready to just fall asleep on the spot.

Wade reached down to get your crying daughter out of your arms. "How about you get some sleep while Wolvie and I take care of Laura? Maybe we'll find out what's rubbing her the wrong way." Wade said, cooing to your crying baby. You fell onto the couch, closing your eyes. "I can't just sleep when she is crying" you mumbled, clearly deadly tired.

"We'll take care of her. You go sleep" Logan drawled and his deep voice soothed you even more, made you even more sleepy. It was so easy to let your body betray your mind and you hated it. "Okay..." you whispered, too tired to argue. And before you could snuggle into the couch cushions, you felt two strong arms slip under your body and lifting you up as if you weighted nothing. You were so tired, you couldn't even gasp or protest as Logan brought you into Wades room, your senses enveloped with his scent.

He carefully lowered you down onto the matress, covering you up with a blanket. "Sleep tight, love. We'll take great care of your little one, so you don't have to worry about a thing" he drawled softly and only after closing the door behind him did he hope that you hadn't catched his slip-up, that he had called you love.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

In had been another two hours of constant crying and screaming. The kid must be exhausted from all the crying, but she still didn't stop. If you asked Logan, it became even worse.

"God, can you shut up for a minute? I am trying everything here!" Wade stressed, bouncing Laura in his arms and patting her back. "Don't tell your mom I said that" he whispered right after. Laura wailed and pushed herself away from Wade with her tiny hands, which were surprisingly really strong. She squirmed in his grasp, desperate to be set down.

"This is how you thank me? I've worked my ass off the past hour to get everything to your liking and now you push me away?" he grumbled, but set her down with a loud 'ouch!' after she started to scratch him.

Her tiny feet waddled against the livingroom floor as fat tears rolled down her chubby cheeks. She had a tummy ache, but she couldn't communicate that with anyone. There were a few words she knew and could say- cat, dog, mama. But she didn't have the words to say that something was hurting.

Logan sat on the couch and watched her as she stood a few feet away from him with her red face, screaming together the whole neighborhood. He sighed deeply, the sound making his ears ring. Then, out of nowhere, she waddled over to him.

"No, no, bub. Not a good idea. Get back to uncle Wade" he told her, scooting up the couch a bit more. He could have just stood up and walk away- why didn’t he? Laura stood between his legs now, demanding uppies from him as she cried. Logan shook his head, ready to call Wade from the kitchen, when Laura began screetching, stretching herself to Logan, standing on her small tip toes.

With a huff, he picked her up, his big and warm hands eveloping her small body. He leaned back against the couch with her on his lap. To his surpise, she quieted down. "You okay now, bub?" he asked her, jumping as she snuggled herself against his chest. Due to his mutation, Logan was always very warm. His whole body was like a heater and that warmth soothed Lauras tummy ache, unbeknownst to him.

The apartment was quiet now, only a few hiccups and sighs coming from Laura as she let her stomach ache be washed away by Logans cozy warm body. He didn't know what to do! One minute he was tortured by her screams and now she was napping on him. On him! Out of all people, she chose to rest on him.

"Is she dead!?" It was now Wades turn to yell as he came stumbling into the kitchen because it suddenly went all quiet. Logan didn't answer him nor did he move a muscle, too scared to wake your baby up.

"What the fuck" Wade blurted out upon seeing something he had never thought he would ever witness in his entire life. Logan shushed him, making Wade frown. He came closer, his face next to Lauras sleeping one "You little cheating slut" he sharply whispered, earning himself a shove from Logan. "Seriously, did you knock her out? Why is she sleeping all of a sudden?" Wade asked with crossed arms.

"I don't know. She wanted me to pick her up, so I did. Then she stopped crying and fell asleep" Logan explained, a warm feeling spreading in his chest as he watched the slow rise and fall of Lauras breath, her tiny hand tightly holding onto his shirt.

"Wow" Wade said. "You're the baby whisperer" Logan shot him a glare.

Wade went on a rant about how everything would have been easier if Logan took Laura from the start before finally falling asleep draped over the chair, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts. For a moment, Logan thought about bringing Laura to you so she could sleep with her mom. But as he tried to peel her off of him, she started fuzzing and whimpering until she was laying back on his chest.

He sighed deeply. Well, gotta make the best of the situation, huh? With a grunt, he made himself comfortable on the couch and fell asleep with a broad hand securily holding Laura on top of him.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

You woke up well rested. Weird. You haven't slept this good since Laura had been born.

Laura!

You jumped awake, stumbling over some stuff in Wades room before you reached the door. It was quiet as you opened it and you were met with the sight of Logan, the fucking Wolverine, sound asleep with your daughter cuddled up on him as if he was some kind of big teddy.

Your heart soared in your chest, your stomach did flips and summer saults. And your pussy throbbed. Couldn't help it, seeing him with your baby did something to your ovaries. It was...so cute. You wanted nothing more than to snuggle up with them, trace patterns onto his pecks while Laura would squeak out an adorable smile-

"Mama" Laura squealed suddenly, flashing you a smile with her few teeth. "Hey there, baby" you cooed to her, kneeling down next to the couch to be eye-level with her. She smiled brightly, whatever it was that had bothered her yesterday completely forgotten. "You seem happy using uncle Logan as a pillow" you said to her, kissing her chubby cheek.

Logan started waking up, only registering Laura at first. "You slept well, bub?" he muttered with a deep sleep laced voice, gently rubbing Lauras small head with his large hand that easily fitted around the back of her head.

"Yes, I did. Thank you for asking" you giggled softly, amused by the way Logan nearly jumped out of his skin upon noticing that you were there too, witnessing how he went soft for your daughter. An embarrassed blush krept onto his face and he cleared his throat, sitting up and avoiding your gaze. "Sorry, she...she only stopped crying when she sat on my lap"

You smiled softly at him. "Seems like she really likes you, then." and I like you too, you wanted to add, but didn't. "She is usually not that touchy with people she barely met" you said and hearing your reassurance- the fact that Laura seemed to like him- it warmed his heart. But he would never admit that.

"Well, I guess I'm flattered" Logan replied with the hint of a smile, his gaze soft as you lost yourself in his eyes, Lauras babbling fading into the background. For a moment, you let yourself think about what could have been. This baby, it could have been Logans and yours. She could have been born because two people truly loved each other. Did Logan love you? You doubted it. But when he looked at you like that, you allowed yourself to be fooled.

"I don't know how you manage to fuck each other just with your eyes, but get a room. There are children present" Wade suddenly said outraged, covering Mary Puppins eyes.

You picked up Laura from Logans lap, holding her against your hip to bring distance between you, Logan and Wades teasing. Logan cleared his throat, clearly disappointed.

"I am so, so thankful that you guys helped me. I don't know what you did or what was wrong with her, but she seems all better now. Is there anything I can do to show my gratitude? you asked, gently bouncing Laura in your arms.

Logan shook his head "No need, bub" he grumbled in his deep voice. He would have done this a thousand times if it meant he could hold your baby in his arms as if it was his. "Make that creamy ass mac and cheese and my life is yours. That stuff tastes and sounds better than any pussy" Wade chimes in, making you laugh. You promised to invite both of them over for dinner sometimes this week and they happily agreed. Laura squeaked out a cute "bye!" before you went back to your own apartment again.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Ever since that day, visits to either Wades or your apartment became more frequent and Laura couldn't be happier seeing Logan pretty much every day. She would stick to his leg from the minute she saw him and to the last second before he left. It was adorable and made you fall even deeper in love with someone you could never have.

Wade made it his mission to steal Laura away from you and Logan. Partly because he wanted you to spend more time alone, and to teach her some words since he was her 'uncle' after all.

Laura sat on his lap, staring down at Wades phone. He looked over her head. He had a picture open that showed you, Laura, Logan and Wade. "And who is that?" he pointed to you, earning a delighted squeal from Laura as she pointed to your smiling face on the picture as well "Mama!" she babbled. Wade cheered her on, applauding her. "That's right, and that is Dada. Dada" he pointed to Logan. Laura recognized him, smiling brightly and giggling, but she didn't say anything. "Can you say that? Dada?" Wade asked in the best baby voice he could muster. But still, Laura wouldn't say anything. "Come on, say Dada. Da-da" Wade tried one last time, but Laura unwrapped himself from his arms to go and play with some toys scrattered on the floor. He huffed in frustration. It was easier to teach kids swear words than this.

Two days later, the day for the dinner came and someone rang your doorbell. You left Laura to play on her playmat and went over to the door, opening it a slit before realising that it was Logan. You fixed your hair with flushed cheeks, you hadn't expected him to come this early, you had just started the dinner preperations. "Oh, hey Logan. What are you doing here? Dinner was planned in two hours" you said, gingerly letting him into your apartment which you hadn't had the time to tidy up yet. Logan wasn't the guy to judge, but you still felt insecure.

"I thought I'd help you with the cooking and all. Look after Laura so you can work in peace" he said, knowing that he was just here to spend more time with you and Laura alone to give him the feeling of having his own little domestic family that he will never actually experience.

You smiled at him "That's very nice of you, but Laura is actually being very umcomplicated today" speaking of which, you showed him that your kid was silently playing with her toys. Upon noticing you and Logan, she squealed and stood up slowly, trying to keep her balance, before she waddled up to him excitedly. "There's my little pumpkin" he drawled, bending down to pick her up swiftly.

"Dada!" she giggled, making you an Logan stop in your tracks. "Did you hear that?" he asked you, looking over at you with a shocked expression. You frowned. You had never taught her to say that. "Sweetheart, who is that?" You asked the little girl, tapping Logans arm, just to be sure you hadn't heard her incorrectly. "Dada" she squeaks again, playing with his coarse beard.

You both looked at each other in disbelieve and for a second, you feared Logan woulf shove Laura into your arms and leave. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't know where she got that from" you tried to apologize, but the rejection from Logan never came.

He held her lovingly to his chest, giving her forhead a kiss. It made your heart pound faster. "No, it's okay" he reassured you, his large hand enveloping the back of Lauras head. "I...I could be her dad. If you want me to be" his question struck you like lightning, it was like a damn marriage proposal.

A marriage proposal you would never say no to. He looked at you with hopeful eyes, waiting for your answer and worrying he had overstepped.

"Yes. Be the father she never had. And please be the love I always wanted" you whispered, leaning up to kiss him. The kiss was soft, your lips brushing against the other and it was nothing you had ever felt before. You had kissed your ex- but never did it feel like this. So right. His free hand snaked around your waist, deepening the kiss until Laura decided to pull at your shiny necklace.

You smiled at her, taking her into your arms. "Do you want to play with daddy while I make mac and cheese?" you asked your daughter and minutes later, Logan had brought her playmat and some toys into the kitchen to sit beside her on the ground to watch and entertain her. It was like nothing had changed. Little did you know, Logan had accepted the little girl as his daughter way before today, even if you guys had never confessed.

And as you stole glances down to Logan, who was already looking at you with these half lidded bedroom eyes, you knew that after dinner, Logan and you would be trying for Lauras sibling.

_______________________________

I really hoped you liked this, I feel like I've rusted a bit. Still got a lot of smut ideas and fics open that I need to finish. Wish me luck☹ if you saw any grammatical mistakes, no you didn't. Leave me alone im tired

Btw, thanks to @buck-star for motivation me to finally finish this <33

[miniimaelstrom]

To able-bodied people, also: in those instances where you are careful (you are never as careful as you think you're being, btw; you cannot judge a disabled body off of your own experiences) that doesn't remove the social factors either.

I am a disabled woman who uses canes, and (pulling from a collection of similar memories for this post) it is horrifically embarrassing to be bodily picked up in the middle of Walmart just because you, a stranger, can't A) wait the 10 seconds it would take for me to get off the floor after an unexpected slip, and/or B) don't have the common sense to hand me my canes when they fall too far away from me to easily retrieve.

You have just embarrassed me public by treating me like a toddler, and made this impossible to escape from because you picked me up, instead of the canes 2 feet away that would've helped me stand in the first place. Your actions made me dependent on you, a stranger, and made us both dependent on some other stranger to pass me my mobility aids. You turned a 10-second tumble into an ordeal lasting 30/45 seconds, as everyone around us scrambles to do what they can (except me, suspended in your grip, helpless). You caused me embarrassment and infantalized me.

And any able-bodied person would protest that kind of thing, besides. They would reject the suddenness of a taller, stronger stranger pressed up against them from behind, unfamiliar arms around their waist to deliberately hold them close. It would be a production; you would be seen as a thief or pervert, grabbing and holding someone you don't know; meanwhile, your target would step away and rant and snarl to keep you at arms length, at best. I deserve the right to be just as furious. Moreso, even, because you've taken away my ability choose to walk away from you (because, and this is the frustrating part, 9/10 times in these situations, you don't let go even when I get enough breath back to say, "Please put me down," because you see the canes being carried back by then, and assume it's just easier to keep me "on my feet" for 5 more seconds instead of putting me back on the floor like I'm asking you to do). You have caused me rage and made my choices mean less than yours.

(Instead, you walk away a minute later, feeling proud of yourself for helping someone "in need". And I stumble off, still contending with the experience of another stranger who won't let me go.)

((PSA: It would have been five times better, even if every other part of this was the same, if you just asked me first. At least then, it would have been my choice to participate in your comedy of errors... even if I am more likely, every time, to say, "No thank you."))

Able-bodied people: Please listen. I hate the above scenario... but it keeps happening anyway. Don't be the stranger who doesn't listen. If you witness it, as OP says: call it out. The people prone to this don't listen to us about our disabled bodies, but they might listen to you if you back us and our justified anger up.)

For Able-Bodied People

Repeat after me:

“If I touch a disabled person without consent, they are entitled to their anger.

If I grab a disabled person’s mobility aid without consent, they are entitled to their anger.

If I refuse to consult with a disabled person about their body, they are entitled to their anger.

If I do any of these things, regardless of if I’m trying to do the right thing, I am an asshole.”

I’m sick and bloody tired of people grabbing me, and then people glaring at me like I’m the asshole in the situation; when your spine and your mobility is at stake, we’ll fucking talk.

Able-bodied people, you should be reblogging this.

You should be calling it out when it happens.

[cutehoons02]

SPEED OR LOVE?

HYUNG LINE X F1 DRIVERS SERIES

*title: I’m in love an idiot

*trope: Grumpy for Sunshines

*F1 driver: Jay F1 Mercedes driver (inspo charachter: Carlos Sainz)

*synopsis: Being the daughter of the most famous engineer in the world for having won world champions like Hamilton or Vettel has advantages but a disadvantage is to hear about 24h on 24h from Jay Park. The new Mercedes star, with her gentle ways of communicating with fans and flirting with any girl in the paddock and with her look as a movie diva manages to make people do everything he says in a snap of fingers, except when he finds himself having to face the daughter of his engineer, super cynical and with a different idea than that is the real Jay during the European season of F1.

*title: Still hate me? Always..

*trope: Enemies to lovers/Social media manager

*F1 driver: Sunghoon F1 Red Bull driver (inspo charachter: Max Verstappen)

*synopsis: Sunghoon could not stand Y/n and Y/n could not stand Sunghoon. Y/n loved his work as a content creator for Red Bull because he could cheer on his favourite team and feel the adrenaline that was felt before qualifying or race and at the same time travel around the world and create fan content on various social platforms, but there was only one problem in his work and that was called Park Sunghoon "Ice prince" of the grid. Whenever Y/n tried to get some social challenge or interaction, Hoon hated it more and more because he didn’t need to have millions of followers or social interactions but just run and maybe taste for the first time the win of his first world champion in Red Bull.

*title: Kiss me, don't say no!

*trope: There's only one bed/reader is Jake's Pr

*F1 driver: Jake F1 Mclaren driver (inspo charachter: Lando Norris)

* synopsis: You thought being an F1 driver’s Pr was exhausting but you couldn’t imagine when you had to live three weekends in a row with Jake Sim, Jake represented everything that a Pr didn’t want to face in his career. Drama in his social media because Jake was born in GenZ and used social media without thinking that he was one of the most famous pilots of the moment, flirting with models or even worse fans during race weekends, duels and scenes with his teammate because the Mclaren had the unhealthy idea of putting two young promises of twenty years to command the team. Y/n would have wanted to kill him but under that cheeky face of F1 driver, Jake suffered from many insecurities and who knows thanks to his Pr things between the two could improve race after race.

*title: Romantic lover

*trope: Celebrity falss in love with fan

*F1 driver: Heeseung F1 Ferrari driver (inspo charachter: Charles Leclerc)

*synopsis: Heeseung loved the adrenaline and anxiety before having to risk everything to qualify for pole position or to win potter but those butterflies in his stomach every time he entered his fiery colored car had never heard them until a shy girl university did not win a content to spend a whole season writing the thesis on the post-pandemic boom thanks to the DTS series and various media platforms that have helped make this sport increasingly focused on young people. Y/n had always loved Heeseung from his arrival in Ferrari but would never be expected to share with him beautiful moments like his first victory at home moments as his continuous panic attacks due to an accident.

If your are interested in this story leave me your @ so that when i publish the story you will be first to trade. ♡

[willowsnook]

Wouldn't have it any other way

rye with salami, ranch, and mikes way please and thank you! (idk if i did that right, i've never done this before)

jack hughes x reporter!reader

she isn’t you

——————————————————

Working as a reporter covering the NHL was a childhood dream of yours that came true. You worked your ass off in college, having internships each summer which led to an opportunity at ESPN that turned full-time after you graduated. You were ecstatic when they moved you to New Jersey to cover the Devils. It had been six months and so far you had gotten along well with all the players…well except one.

“Ya we got whacked two games in a row, so the last thing you want to do is stand and talk in front of you guys,” Jack Hughes told the small group of reporters crowding his locker, you included. You rolled your eyes which didn’t go unnoticed.

“Something to say, sweetheart?,” he said, eyes honing in on you.

You felt your cheeks flush with anger at his condescending tone. "It's our job to ask questions, Hughes. If you can't handle that, maybe you should find a new career."

The locker room fell silent, all eyes darting between you and Jack. His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing as he stepped closer.

"And maybe you should find a new team to cover if you can't handle a little attitude," he shot back.

The tension was palpable. You'd butted heads with Jack since day one, his arrogance rubbing you the wrong way. But this felt different, more charged.

"I can handle you," you replied, holding his gaze. "Question is, can you handle the heat when you're not performing on the ice?"

A collective intake of breath from the other reporters. Jack's eyes flashed dangerously.

"That's enough," the Devils’ PR manager said, ushering the reporters out of the locker room. You shot Jack one last glare as you followed the rest of the pool out. You knew you were going to get your ass chewed by your boss but you couldn’t help it. Jack was infuriating.

Unfortunately, your phone rang the second you were out of the arena and you listened to your boss rant at you. The moment was apparently already blowing up on social media and it was not a good look for you or Jack really. Half of the internet said you were too young to be in your job and wildly unprofessional while the other half defended you, calling Jack a dick who needs to respect women. There was another weird fan side of hockey twitter that were now actively shipping the two of you together, claiming it could be a perfect enemies-to-lovers story.

—————————————————————-

Headphones in, you watched workers out the window as they loaded luggage onto your plane. New Jersey to Vancouver was a long flight so you had splurged, upgrading yourself to first class to try maybe and get some actual sleep. The seat next to you was still empty and as the time ticked by you grew more hopeful that it would remain that way but nothing good lasts forever.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” a voice called out next to you and you looked up to meet the eyes of none other than Jack Hughes.

Your heart sank as Jack glared down at you, his tall frame looming over your seat. Of all the people to be stuck next to for a cross-country flight, it had to be him.

“Why aren’t you flying with the team?” You questioned.

“I overslept and missed the flight,” he muttered and you snorted.

Jack huffed as he stowed his carry-on and slid into the seat beside you. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. You both sat rigidly, avoiding eye contact as the rest of the passengers boarded.

As the plane began to move, you couldn't help but sneak a glance at Jack. His jaw was clenched, hands gripping the armrests tightly. Was he... nervous?

"You okay there, Hughes? Not scared of flying, are you?" you teased, unable to resist.

He shot you a withering look. "I'm fine.”

But as the plane started to take off his breathing grew more rapid and you started to get concerned. You hit a bit of turbulence trying to level out, and Jack’s hand moved towards yours, gripping it tightly.

“Sorry,” he rasped, but you kept your hand in his, caressing his skin softly with your thumb.

“It’s okay,” you murmured. “Just try and breathe.”

“I’m trying,” he snapped and you rolled his eyes. “I need you to distract me.”

“How?”

“Just tell me something about you I don’t know,” he asked looking over at you pleadingly.

“Hockey isn’t my favorite sport,” you said instantly. It felt like your dirty secret being a hockey reporter, but it was the truth.

Jack let out a strained chuckle, “oh yeah, what is?”

“Football,” you replied and he nodded at you to keep going. “I fell in love with it when I was just a kid watching Brett Farve. Him leaving the Packers was my first real heartbreak in life. I like college football more now and while I love the atmosphere of hockey, there is nothing like a Saturday night home game in the palace. The lights illuminating the fields, the smell of popocorn and hotdogs, the fight song playing in the background, and everyone knows that $20 beer tastes better watching your favorite team. What’s more romantic than that?”

If Jack didn’t have the history he had with you, he thought he might have fell in love with you right then and there. His grip on your hand loosened slightly as he listened to you speak, his breathing becoming more even. He found himself captivated by the passion in your voice as you described your love for football.

"I never would have guessed," he said softly, a hint of a smile on his face. "You always seemed so... intense about hockey."

You shrugged, feeling a bit vulnerable having shared something so personal. "It's my job. I take it seriously."

"Maybe too seriously sometimes," Jack muttered, but there was no real bite to his words.

The plane leveled out and you both realized you were still holding hands. You quickly pulled away, clearing your throat awkwardly.

"Thanks," Jack said, avoiding your gaze. "For, you know... helping me through that."

You nodded, unsure how to respond. This was the most civil conversation you'd ever had with Jack Hughes, and it felt weird. The rest of the flight went by without a spectacle; you were happy to catch some shut-eye, and woke up as you were about to land, Jack nudging you awake. He grabbed your bag for you, and you followed him off the plane, stopping when he turned to face you.

“Back to our regularly scheduled business of hating each other,” he said with a smirk, and you laughed.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way Hughes,” you shot back before heading off.

—————————————————————————

After a long call with your boss the next day, you were very irritated. Since the Devils were playing the Canucks, he wanted a short fluff piece about the Hughes brothers reuniting.

“It won’t be that bad,” Luke said after you tracked him down to tell him about the assignment. “You love me, and Quinn will love you.”

“I’m not worried about you two,” you told him with a look. “I’m worried about your other brother, who makes me want to jump off a cliff.”

“You’re dramatic,” he said, crossing his arms and you huffed. “We are all getting dinner tonight; just come with us. It’ll be a good chance to see us all off the ice.”

Later that night, you find yourself in the lobby with Luke, waiting on his brothers. Dressed down and out of your business wear, you felt more like yourself in a cute white sweater and jeans. Jack stepped out of the elevator and you immediately crossed your arms, already not in a good mood seeing him.

“Why is she here?” He asked Luke, completely ignoring you.

“She is writing a piece on the three of us, so I thought it would be nice to let her see the non-hockey side of things,” Luke explained and Jack groaned. Quinn stuck out his hand to introduce himself, and you smiled warmly at the oldest brother.

“So you’re the one who has little Jack by the balls?” He teased and Jack shoved him while you laughed.

You and Jack didn’t say a word to each other on the way to the restaurant and you luckily ended up being diagonal from him. It was a steakhouse but you weren’t that into steak so you opted for a grilled chicken salad with no tomatoes of course. Remembering that you were here for work, you kept quiet just observing the brothers.

"Remember when Jack tried to dye his hair blonde and it turned orange instead?" Quinn chuckled, earning a glare from Jack.

"Hey, at least I didn't cry when mom cut my mullet," Jack shot back, causing Luke to nearly spit out his drink.

You couldn't help but smile, seeing this different side of Jack. He was more relaxed, his guard down as he joked with his brothers. You caught yourself staring at him a few times, noticing how his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

The waiter soon returned with your food and you sighed as you watched your salad be placed in front of you with the tomatoes you had asked to be left out. You were never one to send something back, so you accepted your fate and unrolled your silverware.

“Everything look good?” The waiter asked. You nodded absentmindedly as Jack opened his mouth.

“She asked for no tomatoes,” he said, pointing to your salad. Your head snapped up and the waiter began to apologize.

“Oh it’s okay,” you said, trying to wave him off but Jack gave you a stern look that made you sit back.

“Don’t like tomatoes?” He mused. “Kind of childish, don’t you think?”

“You literally ordered a lemonade,” you shot back and his eyes narrowed at you.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s every kid’s favorite drink,” you retorted.

Jack scoffed, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Sophisticated Palette. Let me guess, you’re a black coffee type, right? So edgy.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your soda. “At least I don’t need a sugar rush to get through lunch.”

“And yet, here you are, drowning in soda. Classy.”

You gestured to his plate with a smug smile. “Says the guy who’s been avoiding the broccoli on his plate like it owes him money.”

Jack’s smirk faltered, and he glanced down at the offending vegetable. “It’s not avoidance. I’m saving the best for last.”

“Sure you are. Must be why it’s still untouched and getting cold.”

“You know, you’re a lot braver with your words when I don’t have a hockey stick in my hands.”

You shot him a fake, sweet smile. “And you’re a lot more tolerable when you keep your mouth shut.”

Quinn and Luke were thoroughly entertained as they observed the back-and-forth banter between you.

“You see what I have to deal with?” Luke said, looking at Quinn once you and Jack had finally stopped.

“Jack finally met his match,” he commented, prompting an eye roll from the mentioned brother.

The rest of the dinner passed with a mix of tension and grudging amusement between you and Jack, while Quinn and Luke kept the conversation flowing. As you all left the restaurant, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret at how quickly you and Jack fell back into your antagonistic pattern.

"So, got enough material for your fluff piece?" Jack asked sarcastically as you walked back to the hotel.

You sighed, "Probably. Though I'm not sure how to write about the Hughes brothers' dynamic without mentioning how insufferable one of them is."

Jack chuckled, surprising you. "Just make sure to mention how charming and handsome that one is too."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. "In your dreams, Hughes."

As you reached the hotel, Luke and Quinn said their goodbyes, leaving you and Jack alone in the lobby. An awkward silence lingering in the air between you.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” He asked and you gave him a weird look, trying to figure out his angle.

“Where else would I be? I’m always front row waiting for you to mess up,” you joked and he gave you a playful frown.

“Very funny,” he said before bidding you goodbye and going up to his room. Things felt different between the two of you tonight, and you weren’t sure how you felt about it.

———————————————————————-

The Devils beat the Canucks handily and you found yourself with a couple of other reporters waiting for Jack, who had scored, and a new girl that you didn’t recognize.

“Hi Jack,” the girl called out as he got settled and he looked at her amused. She looked like a puck bunny who had snuck in; beach blonde hair, fake spray tan, low cut top, you knew the type. Jesus, what had gotten into you, you thought, trying to shake off your cattiness.

“Hey, haven’t seen you around before,” he commented and she giggled. Literally giggled in response. The other reporters were amused but you kept your lips in a firm line.

“You were so great out there; it’s so impressive how hard you work,” she said and he smiled awkwardly thanking her. “Do you ever get scared when the puck comes at you?"

You couldn’t help but snort out loud when she asked that and Jack looked amused at you.

Jack’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, his smirk growing wider before he turned back to the blonde with a practiced ease.

"So," he said, leaning casually against the bench, "you’re new to the media scrum, huh? They usually send someone more…" He glanced at you briefly, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Experienced."

The girl giggled again, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh, well, I’m just filling in today. I guess I got lucky getting to talk to you."

"Guess I got lucky too," he said smoothly, his tone playful. "Usually, I’m stuck with—" He cut himself off, letting his eyes flick to you with mock innocence. "Well, people who don’t seem to enjoy the job as much as you do."

Your jaw tightened, but you kept your face neutral, scribbling something completely irrelevant in your notebook to avoid giving him the satisfaction of a reaction.

"So," the blonde continued, practically glowing under his attention, "what’s it like to be so focused all the time? You’re just so… intense on the ice."

Jack chuckled, shaking his head. "Takes a lot of practice. But I don’t think I’m half as intense as you just now."

Her eyes widened, and she laughed, her cheeks turning a shade pinker. "Oh my God, stop! I’m just trying to do my job."

"And you’re doing it very well," he replied, his voice low and charming.

You shut your notebook loudly, drawing Jack’s attention as you stormed out of the locker room, your cheeks flushed with anger and... something else you didn't want to acknowledge. You made it halfway down the hall before you heard footsteps behind you.

"Hey!" Jack's voice called out. "Where are you going?"

You spun around, glaring at him. "Away from that circus. I have actual work to do."

He jogged up to you, a mix of confusion and amusement on his face. "What's your problem? Jealous?"

"Jealous?" You scoffed, crossing your arms. "Of what? Your ability to charm airheads?"

Jack's eyebrows shot up. "Wow, that's pretty harsh. What happened to journalistic integrity?"

"What happened to professionalism?" You shot back. "Or do you always flirt with reporters during interviews?"

His expression shifted, a knowing smirk appearing on his face.

“You are jealous,” he said confidently and you were about to argue back but he grabbed a door handle behind you, yanking the door open and pulling you in it. It was a smaller equipment closet, but you didn’t have much time to look around before Jack had you tight against his body.

“She isn’t you sweetheart,” he said as your body flushed against his.

Your breath caught in your throat as Jack's words sank in. The closet suddenly felt much smaller, the air thick with tension. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, his chest rising and falling against yours.

"What are you doing, Hughes?" you managed to whisper, your voice betraying your conflicted emotions.

His eyes searched yours, intense and unreadable. "Something I've wanted to do for a long time," he murmured before closing the distance between you.

His lips crashed against yours, hungry and insistent. For a moment, you were too shocked to respond. But then, as if a switch had been flipped, you found yourself kissing him back with equal fervor. Your hands tangled in his hair as his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

The kiss was everything you never knew you wanted - passionate, electrifying, and months of frustration bubbling over. His hands moved under your shirt and up your back as his touch burned your skin. Resting your head back against the wall, he took advantage, latching on to your neck, sucking harshly.

“More,” you gasped. “I need more.”

He pulled your shirt over your head and you unclasped your bra, letting it fall to the floor. His eyes glazed over, looking at your chest and you smirked before tugging at his shirt. He lifted it off and you admired his toned body, tracing your finger down his abs. His breath hitched as he watched you and you smirked seeing the bulge against his sweats get bigger.

Jack's eyes darkened as he watched your finger trail down his abs. In one swift motion, he lifted you up, pressing you against the wall as your legs wrapped around his waist. His lips found yours again in a searing kiss as his hips ground against you, eliciting a soft moan from your throat.

"God, you drive me crazy," he breathed against your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

Your hands roamed his broad shoulders and back, relishing the feeling of his muscles flexing under your touch. Jack's mouth moved lower, trailing hot kisses down your collarbone to your breasts. You arched into him as he took a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

"Jack," you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair. He looked up at you, a mix of lust and something softer. “I need you in me.”

“Let me savor this sweetheart,” he pouted and you shook your head.

“Not the time or place,” you argued back and he sighed. Pulling down his pants, you spit into your hand before bringing it to his cock, pumping a few times, causing him to hiss. Shimmying out of your pants, you let him lift you against the wall, angling himself at your entrance.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked.

“Just this once,” you said and he rolled his eyes.

“We’ll see,” he replied and you started to argue back but he pushed in and your head fell forward onto his shoulder.

Jack began to move, thrusting into you with a steady rhythm. You clung to his shoulders, biting back moans as he hit just the right spot with each stroke. The closet filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing and the slap of skin on skin.

"God, you feel amazing," Jack groaned, his pace increasing. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, urging him deeper.

"Harder," you demanded, nails digging into his back. He complied, slamming into you with renewed vigor.

The tension that had been building between you for months was finally finding release. Every thrust, every touch was electric. You couldn't get enough of him.

"I'm close," you panted, feeling the familiar tightening in your core. Jack slipped a hand between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he urged and you cried out, his hand coming up to muffle the noise. Riding out your orgasm, you were clenching hard around him and he grunted as he kept up the pace, pounding into you.

As your walls continued to contract around him, Jack couldn't hold back any longer. He buried his face in your neck, groaning out your name as he spilled into you.

For a few moments, all that could be heard was your heavy breathing as you both came down from the intense high. Jack leaned his forehead against yours, his breath hot against your skin. You both took a few minutes to catch your breath before Jack slowly pulled out of you. You winced slightly and Jack gave you a concerned look. He handed you your clothes and you quickly put them back on, refusing to look at him.

“Y/n,” he said softly and you finally looked over at him. His face was flushed, hair all over the place, but the look he was giving you made you want to take your clothes right back off.

“This was just two people blowing off steam, nothing more,” you said and he grinned widely.

“Oh, so you won’t mind if I hook up with that other girl next time instead?” He asked and you frowned before quickly morphing into a neutral expression but Jack had already caught it.

“Ugh,” you exclaimed before opening the door slowly, peeking out before you walked out. Jack was right behind you and you thought the coast was clear until you walked right into Quinn and Luke. You froze and felt Jack still behind you as he saw his brothers.

“What were you two doing?” Luke asked, a knowing smirk on his face.

“We were just talking,” you defended, not meeting his eyes.

“Oh yeah? In the supply closet?” Quinn teased.

“It was quieter than the locker room,” Jack said.

“Didn’t sound that quiet,” Quinn shot back.

Your face burned with embarrassment as Quinn's words sank in. You couldn't bring yourself to look at Jack or his brothers, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

"I... I have to go," you mumbled, pushing past Luke and Quinn without meeting their eyes. You practically ran down the hallway, desperate to distance yourself and the Hughes brothers as much as possible.

Once safely in your hotel room, you collapsed onto the bed, burying your face in your hands. What had you done? Hooking up with Jack Hughes in a supply closet was bad enough, but getting caught by his brothers? Your career could be over if word got out.

Your phone buzzed with a text. Hesitantly, you checked it, half-expecting it to be Jack. Instead, it was from Luke:

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with us. But you might want to figure your shit out with Jack ;)”

You groaned, turning over, trying not to think about what happened in the closet or what it meant for you and Jack.

[gojos-version]

Consume me.

Pairings- Y/N x Mafia Au! Sukuna

Summary- You're the daughter of a famous mafia boss and your dad wants to cooperate with Sukuna and make a deal, you hate Sukuna. You’re about to make his life a living hell.

Warnings- y/n being bratty and a bad bitch, brat taming, unprotected sex, breeding, tummy bulge (per usual), masturbation, blood and death mentioned (not in detail or much)

Word count- 8k

Proof read- ✅

A/n- Omg this took me so long because ive been so busy and i knew it was gonna be such a long fic, but i hope this tickles your pickle :3 Have a lovely day and i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it <3

⋆ ✩°｡⋆ 𖦹｡˚ ⋆ ✮ ༺ ⟡ ݁₊ ⊹ ა ✧ ໒ ⊹ ₊ ݁ ݁⟡ ༻ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⊰⊱ ✩°｡⋆ 𖦹｡˚ ⋆

Sukuna. That name brought fear to many people. He was a well-known Mafia boss, he lived by his rules, he didn't like something? It was fixed immediately. He doesn't like someone, or someone messes up? They’re dead. He’s a very fierce man and its risky that even right now your father wants to make a deal with him, to get more respect he says. 

Sukuna was the one person you had the least respect for, he was cruel and heartless, and you'd prefer to avoid him at all costs if you could. His face was covered in tattoos and so was the rest of his body, he had piercings and honestly he was intimidating. But… he also made you feel things you shouldn’t be feeling. Maybe it was the way he carried himself that you found attractive? You weren’t sure but you hate him. Your dad was a big mafia boss but not as big as Sukuna, his business was huge.

Knock knock.

Your head perks up from your book; “Yes?”, your dad’s assistant opens the door; “Your father requests to speak with you.”, “Alright I’ll be down.” With that she nods her head and closes the door. You sigh and twist your body to slide off your bed, slipping your slippers on you open the door and walk down the stairs to your dad’s office. You knock on the door and he shouts a ‘Come in!’ And you do, when you open the door you did not except to see a tall man with pink hair, tattoos and in a black suit sitting in front of your dad.

Sukuna?? Why the fuck was he here. Your heart drops and you swallow thickly, he shoots you a smirk that makes your blood boils. “What is it that you wanted, father?”, “Take a seat, I want to talk to you about a few things. Including our guest, don’t be rude, Y/n.”, “I don’t see why we have to discuss things in front of our guest. Wouldn’t that be unprofessional?” You cross your arms, leaning back on the door. “Oh don’t mind me.” Sukunas deep voice rings out and you glare at him, “Who said you were apart of this conversation?”, “Ohhoho! Quite the mouth on you!” He laughs, leaning back in his chair and your dad’s expression becomes stern, “Y/n. What did I say.”, your eye twitches with annoyance and you scoff; “I’d rather talk in private, dad.”

Your dad sighs in annoyance and Sukuna grins, laying back more in his chair. “Like I said, don’t mind me sweetheart.” You huff, “Let me guess, we’re working with Sukuna now?”, “Yes, so I hope you’ll be nice a- “, “Greatttttt!” You say with fake enthusiasm, and you see Sukuna's jaw clench. Ha. Y/n 1 Sukuna 0. You turn to walk out and freeze feeling a strong presence behind you and a large hand on your shoulder, “Listen brat, you don’t want to piss me off. If you keep provoking me, I can and I will destroy your father’s corporation. You don’t want that now do you?”, Sukuna's deep voice whispers into your ear and you shiver.

“Of course you would, you have no heart. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re a robot. You wouldn’t do shit to us.” You sneered back, yeah it was risky but how dare a man try to speak you down and threaten you? Excuse him?? Sukuna chuckles darkly, “A robot huh? Li- “, “Y/n apologize to our guest right now.” Your dad cuts Sukuna off (without knowing what he was saying), saying nothing you shrug off Sukuna's shoulder and open the door, shutting it harshly behind you and going back to your room.

You lay on your bed staring at the ceiling and sighing softly. You really hope Sukuna isn’t around much. You were hoping to avoid him as much as possible, any interaction with him made your blood boil and your thighs squish together. You hated him and you hated how he made your body tingle. You hated how turned on you got by his stupid face and how curious you were of him. You wanted more, you wanted to know more, why was he stoic? What’s really under that tough demeanor? That heartless man. Why was he heartless? You ached to know more but you couldn’t fucking stand him. You really didn’t like him. No matter what your body felt you really really didn’t like him.

Ding!

A text message? From who?

Dad <3 - Y/n, Sukuna will be around a lot, so you better behave and be nice. He’s doing good for us, I expect to hear that you apologized before tonight, no arguments.

You grunt and close your phone, turning to your side. Maybe you’ll go out tonight. Yeah. That's a good idea. You send a message to your group chat asking to hang out at a bar and before you know it they reply with a “Let’s get shitfaced girls!”, you chuckle and slide off your bed; to your wardrobe. You could be sexy, slutty or modest. You hum to yourself; it wouldn’t hurt to be a mix of sexy and slutty tonight. It’d be nice to get laid; especially after today. You decide on a dark red dress, it stopped mid-thigh and showed just the right amount of cleavage and hugged your curves juustt right. You slip on a black leather jacket, tights and black boots, opting for a red bag to balance it out. You do your hair and makeup and smile at the mirror. You felt good. You looked good.

As you open the door and walk down the steps you did not expect Sukuna to still be here. At the dining table??? You try to sneak past them; hoping they wouldn’t notice you. “And where might you be going?” A dark voice rings out. That annoying deep voice. That belonged to that stupid pink haired man with tattoos. “It’s none of your business I’m afraid.” You reply coolly, “Y/n. I told you to be nice.” Your dad scolds, “Dad, I’m going out.” Your dad glares at you and you simply walk off, tired of the conversation; you ignore the loud shouts of your name and sigh as you walk out the door. You drag your feet into your car, telling your driver where to take you.

You swallow thickly and bundle your skirt into your clenched hands, sighing in frustration. You pick your phone up to see your best friend; Shoko calling you. "Shoko! Hey girl.", "Y/n how far are you?? Please, Satoru's annoying me." She whines into the phone, and you bark out a laugh; "I just left. Dad was being difficult. I should be there very soon." You reassure her and she grumbles a 'Hurry up before I kill him' before hanging up.

You smile in contentment lean your head against the window; looking out in the distance while your driver takes you to the bar. You honestly thought it'd be just the 'girls' but it seems Satoru and Suguru weaved their way into yours, Shoko and Utahime's plans. more company the better honestly.

Before you know it, the cars stopped Infront of the club; "Miss do you want me to escort you?", your driver asks and you shake your head; "It's alright, I'll message you if I need anything and when I want to be picked up." Thats the last thing you say before sliding out of the car and feeling the cool air kiss your warm skin.

Ouch the weather wasn't as nice as you thought it was. You sling your bag over your shoulder and walk into the club, instantly the smell of sweat, lust and alcohol fill your senses. Yeah, you're definitely going to need a drink. As you walk towards the bar you instantly spot Shoko, Utahime and Satoru drunk off their minds dancing around and Suguru sitting on the bar and drinking.

"Long time no see." You greet sitting next to him, "You finally made it. These idiots got drunk so quickly.", "I can tell. How have you been though, Suguru?" You say as you order a drink, leaning your back against the counter and crossing a leg over the other having your elbows resting on the counter behind you.

"Not too bad, it's been hectic because works been stressful.", "Thats rough, work sucks." You sympathize; "How about you? Any life updates?" He asks laughing softly at the others dancing their asses off. Man, it was going to be a long night. "Terrible. My dad made a deal with Sukuna and for some reason he's around my house. a lot.", Suguru almost spits out his drink in surprise, "Shit what!? You're kidding.", "I wish I was. doesn't help he keeps talking to me too." You sip your drink, frowning at the memory.

"Doesn't... Sukuna like not talk to his client's kids or anything? Doesn't he just keep it strict and just talk to let's say just your dad in this situation. Usually, he stays at his own abode too." He ponders and your blood runs cold. wait. he's right. "Wait why would he be interested in me...? How the fuck do I get out of this mess? Shit Suguru what do I do." You panic and scull your drink.

"Don't worry, I think it's a good thing he's taken a liking to you. if he didn't, he'd probably would've killed you already." He reassures you and sigh. "I don't even want to be involved with him." Suguru nods his head in understanding, before he could respond though a drunk Shoko and Satoru run over to you; having finally noticed your arrival.

"You're here!!! Girl, I've missed you!!" Shoko exclaims, a bit too loudly for your liking and throws her arms around you; practically sitting on your lap. "Y/N!! Hi!!!!!!" Well. that makes both Satoru and Shoko smothering you. "Hey guys, kind of can't breathe right now with both of you squishing me." You laugh out but nevertheless hug them back.

"What tookkk you sooo loonnggg!" Satoru slurs out taking his drink from before and sculling the entire thing. "Girl shit." You respond, "You do not need to drink more." Suguru scolds taking the now empty glass away from him and Satoru pouts and complains in response.

"Giirrrllll any new news???? Any dick you're getting???" Shoko slurs in your ear; still over you. "I'll tell you when you're sober, girl", "NO tell me noooowwwwww", you sigh knowing she won't give up. "Dad made a deal with Sukuna." as soon as those words left your mouth she jumps back in shock and falls on the ground.

"Are you ok-", "NO WAY THE SUKUNA???", "Shhhh!!!" Thank God everyone was too drunk to give a shit. You help her up and drown another drink. you really want to get shitfaced tonight.

Few drinks later <3

You don't know when you started dancing with a random guy. you don't know who he is or what his name is. all you know is everything's blurry and dizzy and you're having the best time of your life. Your arms wrap around his neck and your lips are a bit too close to his. He slurs something drunkenly and you faintly make out the words must've been a 'you're so beautiful'. Your lips unconsciously lean towards his, both of you breathing heavily against each other. Before he can lean in and take your lips on his, a loud bang! fills your ears. wait. Where did his head go?

You look down at your clothes and they're covered in... blood...? What...? You freeze as everyone around you starts screaming and running out of the club, the guys now limp headless body falls at your feet, and you don't know how to react. when it all processes you feel adrenaline rush through your veins.

Where are your friends? You shakily walk towards the exit and see a familiar pink hair, tattooed tall man. Wait a minute... is that...? You blink a few times and he's gone. "Y/n!! Are you okay??" You feel Suguru's hand on your shoulder, you turn to him and see Shoko and Satoru hanging off him, Utahime was hanging off of Shoko.

You wordlessly nod your head and your drivers here? Didn't you say you'd text him when you're ready?? You open the door and motion for Suguru to put the others in the car, you help him put your friends in the backseats. You sit in the front seat next to your driver; "I didn't tell you to pick me up. But please take my friends to their houses." You manage to utter out.

He nods and the car starts going on its journey. You can't stop thinking that murder had to have been from Sukuna. but why? Why would he murder the guy you were dancing with. Why did he even care?? A "Miss, drink some water to sober up." Cuts you out of your thoughts. It was hard to focus on everything with how much alcohol you took in. But you drank as much water as you could. After drinking your water, you head rests against the head rest, and you shut your eyes briefly.

Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna.

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

You blearily blink your eyes open, trying to adjust to the sunlight pouring through your room. What time was it? How did you end up...in your bed...? Maybe your driver put you in your bed. You shrug it off and slowly sit up. Fuck your head hurt. You didn't have enough water in time. Your head was throbbing as you turned your head to look at your nightstand. Water and pain killers? I mean that's thoughtful, but no one really does that for you. then again you don't usually pass out in the car.

You took the painkillers and drank the water, putting your slippers on and robe as you slowly made your way towards the door. You just realized. someone was murdered in front of you yesterday. Wait when the fuck were you in your PJ's? And the blood from your face and body is gone??

Your heart races for a minute and you try to shrug it off as maybe you didn't remember getting changed or one of the female maids did it for you while you were sleeping. Right...? You open the door and slowly make your way down the steps towards the kitchen. Coffee. And water. Thats what you need right now. you fixed your hair and by the time you reached the bottom of the stairs; There was your dad and of course Sukuna. Sukuna. Why was he here?

"Mornin' Princess, Woke up late today, huh?" Ugh that stupid annoying deep voice. it fills your head, and you ignore him, walking past him and filling a cup of water, drowning it and filling it up again. "Y/n. I told you not to be ru-", "Nah its fine. She looks hungover.", "So that's where she went huh."

Come on brain. Remember. Right, Pink hair and tattoos and a dead guy. Yep. Common duo. "Sukuna, you did that last night, didn't you?" You deadpan, turning around and leaning your lower back against the counter, water in your hand, sipping and waiting for a response.

He looks shocked for a split second but covers it up quickly, "Oh? Where?" His head leans to the side giving you a look of 'I dare you to continue'. You smirk, walking closer to him. "The man you murdered at the club. Infront of me. What was that about, hm? Got jealous I gave someone else my attention and not you?" You dad stays silent, flabbergasted and oh Sukuna just glares at you.

"Why would I be jealous?", "You're not denying you murdered a guy at the club last night." You slam your hand down in front of him on the table and lean your face close to his, and your breasts right in his field of view. His eyes flicker from them to your face a few times, "You just happened to distract my target.", "Oh? I did a background check on the people at the club on my way there. He was a normal citizen." Your face gets closer to his and you're smirking, eyes narrowed as you egg him on.

Fuck does he look pissed off right now. But...there's another emotion you can see in his eyes, but you can't pinpoint it. Is it surprise? Intrigue? Lust? Who knows. You had him cornered both physically and mentally right now and he honestly had no option but to confess.

"Come on Ryomen. Give us the truth." You whisper in his ear, "You-" He seethes, and you cut him off by barking out a loud laugh, his hands were gripping the arm rests of his seat. How amusing. Without another word you trot off with a slight sway in your hips. You could feel his eyes burning holes in the back of your head while you did walk off.

Time skip <3

You're laying on your bed listening to music while writing in your diary, ranting about Sukuna and other random things. It's 9pm before you know it. Maybe you'll just stay in tonight and have a self-care day. yeah. that sounds pretty good. you shut your diary and shove it under your pillow, going to the bathroom and running a bath.

You get your necessities and sit on the sink while the bath fills up. What you didn't know however was that Sukuna went in your room, wanting to give you a rough talking to; to find you not in your room. He hums and looks around, taking it in. your pillow messily placed catches his eyes and he lifts it to see your diary.

His brows furrow as he opens the book. 'Maybe she writes stories or draws? Why do I even care.' As he flicks through it, he sees his name written. hm? What's this? A smirk makes way on his face as he takes your diary and leaves your room, making sure everything was as you left it.

You sink into the bath you set and shut your eyes at the warm sensation. what should you do about him? There's no way he has to be over this much for a business deal. Maybe you're overthinking it too much. You sigh softly and shut your eyes, enjoying your soak in the bath. Hopefully tomorrow you'll be given a job to do.

Time skip <3

Your eyes flutter open and it's still dark outside? You twist your body and slide off the bed, slipping your robe on and your slippers. 5:30am. Great. You walk towards the kitchen and notice someone…sitting? On the table with their feet up?? Who on earth was up at this time of night???? When you get a bit closer you notice the familiar pink hair and tattoos. Ugh. Why the hell was Sukuna here and awake at 5 in the damn morning. “Why are you here at 5 in the morning?” Your soft voice rings out making him look up from what he was reading. “Why are you up at 5 in the morning?” He sasses back and your eye twitches in frustration. “I live here, and you don’t. Why are you here at 5 in the morning, Sukuna.”, “Ouch back to Sukuna huh?” And oh, you wish you could wipe that stupid smirk off his stupid face.

“Answer the question.” You say with a blank expression and sit across him. He sits forward and puts the book next to him, leaning his chin on his palm. Why did that book look so familiar? “Because your dad needs me, so I decided I’ll be staying here a while.”, “What book are you reading?” You ask, your heart rate picking up because it looked a lot like your handwriting. No wonder why your pillow felt too comfortable. He stands up and makes his way behind your seat, leaning next to your left ear. “You think I’m so hot, huh? You even want me to dick you down, yet you act like you hate me.” His hand snakes slowly around your neck, applying some pressure and you gasp. “You want me to choke your pretty throat huh?” His hand snakes up to your chin and his thumb strokes your cheek.

“That was private.” You grumble out, panting softly. “Oh? Yet you’re such a little fucking slut. Thought you could fool me hm?” Your hand snaps out and grabs his wrist, pulling his hand away from your face. Still holding his wrist, you stand up and turn to face him, with your free hand you grip his face and mush his cheeks together. “You're too bold. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been watching me when you think I’m not watching. Or my used panties that have slowly been going missing. You’re not slick, Ryomen.” His eyes narrow and you laugh. “And you call me the slut. You’re the perv around here.”

He snarls and you walk away from him turning the coffee machine on. Your hands grip the counter when you feel his half hard cock push against your ass. “What are you- “, “Shut up. You’re such a fucking brat.” He pushes your head down and you grunt when your cheek makes contact with the cold counter. “C’mon doll you know you fuckin’ want me.” You smirk having an idea come into your head. Without saying anything you grind your ass against his clothed cock which is now hard and fuck you can feel how hard it is. You circle your hips, and he lets out a grunt in response.

You move your robe up exposing your now soaked panties, rubbing against his soaked pants for more friction. You wiggle your ass, teasing him. “Come on big boy. Do something, can’t leave a girl hanging now, can you?” You press harder against him and a breathy whimper escapes his lips. “You…” Fuck his voice sounds so raspy and you’re clenching around nothing. One of his hands shakily squeeze your ass and fuck right now you want him to fuck the living shit out of you. No. Y/n. You wanted him to be the one begging for you remember? You wanted him to be so down bad for you he’d go insane. Fuck this isn't good. You shiver slightly when your cunt makes a honeyed gush of wet arousal ruining your panties further. You feel his thick thumb run up and down on your clothed, soaked slit making goosebumps erupt all over you in response.

“Fuck…” he moans, “You’re so fucking soaked.”, and finally he removes his hand off your head. Both of his thumbs make contact with your slit through your panties and his thumbs sink into your hole, spreading you open through your panties and the moan he lets out? Worth it. You muffle your own moans behind your mouth with watery eyes. You stand up and pull away from him, grabbing his arms and pinning him to the counter. “What a naughty boy you are.” You tsk, “Already trying to fuck me before taking me to dinner? Chivalry is dead.”

You release his arms and grab a mug, pouring yourself coffee, desperately trying to distract yourself from how fucking wet you felt. You notice how he stays quiet, his eyes following your figure with every move you make. “What's got you so quiet, hm?”, You look over at him and notice a…blush? Covering his cheeks and ears? Now that was a rare sight. “I-uh- “He cuts himself off and storms off. What was that about?? You shrug it off and sit at the table. Of course, your diary was gone. Fuck your panties were clinging onto your soppy cunt. You quickly drown the rest of your coffee and head to your room.

You slip your now completely soaked panties off and grab your vibrator from under your bed, sitting on your bed you lay on your back and spread your legs; circling the toy up and down your leaking slit and clit, repeating the motion a few times. You slowly sink the toy into your needy cunt and line up the clit sucking part of the vibrator onto your clit. Turning it on makes you sigh in relief as the vibrations ease your neediness.

You moan softly as you move the bottom part of the vibrator in and out of your hole, your free hand fondling your tits, squeezing and pinching your hard nipples. Your legs shake as you get closer and closer to your impending orgasm, your moans increasing as you move the toy faster, the vibrations and the heat from the vibrator making your head roll back into your pillow. You gasp wildly as your walls clamp around it, making your body tingle. You felt the knot in your tummy tighten as you cum hard around it, your walls spasming around your vibrator. fuck. you never come this quickly.

Shit. You still felt so turned on. You continue thrusting the toy in and out of you making your toes curl. You needed more. You needed Sukuna. You needed him so deep inside of you. Focusing on your own pleasure you couldn't hear Sukuna fisting himself with his ear to your door, your used panties over his nose as he inhales your scent. Hs entire body felt like it was on fire, burning with need while he pumped his cock imagining it was your wet, sopping cunt instead. Shit he felt so close, his thighs and abbs tensing in response as he cums harshly all over his hand and arm, his free hand muffling his mouth to not let any pathetic noises escape. Sukuna doesn't come that quickly. Not usually. He breathes heavily listening to your wet squelches and moans through the door. He wanted you so badly it hurt so much.

You’re not sure how much times you’ve cummed now, but you have a feeling Sukuna’s behind your door. For a while now you’ve been making sure your sounds are extra loud for him. Your body aches as you pull your now dead vibrator out of you, with shaky legs you slip your robe on and go into your bathroom, washing it and running yourself a bath. You put your vibrator on charge, hiding it and opening your door. You find nothing there but a large wet spot. You laugh to yourself knowing he was cumming hard to your sounds.

You shut your door and shrug your robe off, lighting a candle and sinking into the bath as you think of what to do. It’s around 7:40am now. “Y/n! I’ve got a job for you today!” Your dad’s voice sounds out, “I’ll send you the details!”, “Okay!” You yell out and smile. Finally, some action around here.

Time skip <3

You just finished your job. It was easy honestly but it’s raining and your new gown you got for the job has bloodstains. Oh well. If it’s washed properly, it shouldn’t be a problem. You’re waiting for your driver to come but… it feels like he’s late. Or maybe you’re being impatient? Ring ring! Ring ring! You look down at your phone, a call from…Sukuna? Why him? You sigh and answer, “What do you want.”, “where are you? Give me your coordinates. Now.”, you send him your location; “Why? What’s wrong?”, “Enemies of mine are looking for you. Your dad’s safe with me. If your driver or car shows up do not enter the vehicle, if anything hide till I get to you.”, “What do you mean enemies? What the fucks going on, Ryomen?” You stop talking when you notice your car. Your drivers car. Pull up in front of you. You stand still, motionless waiting for their first move.

“Y/n? Fucking answer me!”, You hang up the phone call, with your free hand you slowly snake your hand behind you, going up your thigh and grabbing your gun and throwing knives. Adrenaline floods through your veins when the car honks its horn. Your driver never honks the horn at you. With a beat of silence your eyes focus on the guns in the back aiming at you. Fuck. If you’re not quick, you’ll end up dead in about 2 seconds. Your eyes flit to your bag on the ground next to you. Perfect. You drop your phone onto your bag and run, hiding behind the tree near the entrance, with a quick motion you aim and blow the tires of the car. These fuckers aren’t leaving here alive.

You grab your throwing knives and wait. The people in the car shooting wildly now have the windows broken, and perfectly open for you. Idiots. You smirk and throw 2 knives hitting both of the people in the front seat in the head, instantly killing them.

Fuck. Now probably like 4 people in the back. Great. How long is Sukuna going to take? You hide behind the tree. Why does your mind keep travelling back to him? Those stupid tattoos. Those stupid piercings and his stupid pink hair. That stupid smirk he always gives you. Your heart rate picks up, why can’t you focus? You try to force yourself to focus on the dire situation at hand right now but the way he pressed your cock against you this morning. His thick hands...shit.

Why are you thinking of Sukuna? Sukuna… Sukuna.. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna.

Time skip <3

Your eyes flutter open, taking in the familiar tattoos and pink hair. Sukuna. “Took you long enough.” His voice fills your head, and you blink confusedly at him. “Huh? What happened?”, you go to sit up, but he puts a hand to your chest and keeps you from moving. "I came as quick as I could. They didn't touch you. They've been dealt with so do not worry." Without saying anything, both your hands grip his face and pull him closer to you. "What are y-", "Why are you in my head so much. it's like you're possessing me. What do you want from me, Ryomen Sukuna. Why did you have to come into my life." Your nails dig into his cheeks. His eyes widen in shock and... confusion?

Before he could respond you're out cold and he's left to think about what you said.

A few weeks later <3

It's been a few weeks since you've seen Sukuna. You've asked your dad where he went, and he said he has his own business to do. You couldn't find him anywhere, not even on any tracker or through anyone. it's like he left without a trace.

It's cold tonight. You look out the balcony and ignore the chilling cold breeze. It was a nice night tonight. The sounds of the night and traffic fill your ears and head leaving you to your thoughts. Maybe he'll come back? Pink hair...stupid tattoos...

"Didn't miss me too much now did you?" That deep voice. That familiar deep voice sounds through your ears, and you turn around so quick you almost fell over. Pink hair. Stupid tattoos.

"Where have you been? It's been weeks. What were you doing?" You question, watching as he comes closer to you. He was so close to you that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. His hand makes contact with your cheek, cupping it softly. Being soft wasn't Sukuna's style. You look into his eyes and see him frowning in thought. Sukuna disappeared for a while ever since you said you can't get him off your mind and here he was out of no where. He had some time to himself to reflect and try to get his feelings in check back to being heartless and cold. That didn't work. He couldn't stand anymore time away from you.

"It was not my intention to worry you." He thumbs your bottom lip, making your heart speed up. He looked at you like you were the only person in the entire world. You notice his gaze fixed on your lips and your eyes can't help but flit to his plush lips too. Your hands come up and cup both of his cheeks, pulling him closer to you. "What were you doing? Why'd you leave without saying anything?", You demand. "Thought you hated me, princess.", "Shut up. "

The air around the two of you is thick, the both of you staring at each other's lips and heavy breathing, his hand on your cheek and both of yours cupping his face. Before you could blink Sukuna smashes his lips onto yours, his soft lips engulfing yours.

His tongue explores your mouth, shoving your tongue under his as he licks the cervices of your mouth, occasionally wrapping his tongue around yours. Your whimpers are swallowed up by his mouth greedily devouring yours.

Your arms wrap around his neck and pull his body flush with yours; his hands move down to your waist and grip harshly. He moves you impossibly closer to him, his hands now gripping your ass. Fuck your entire body feels like it's been lit on fire, electricity courses through your veins like small sparks exploding throughout your body continuously.

Your lungs burn from the lack of air, but you don't want to stop. Not when you feel so good, not when you finally had Sukuna. He breathily pulls away from your lips, “Jump.” He orders, you comply and jump and wrap your legs around his waist. You start nipping at his neck while he carries you to your bed, softly placing you down and hovering on top of you. He looked so fucking good in his black suit. The rings he was wearing was doing things to you; you never thought you would feel from something so simple.

“Consume me.” You say softly, his eyes take you in, puffy lips, your nightgown haphazardly on you, your thighs squishing together and your hair disheveled. You were looking at him like you were going to explode if he didn’t touch you right now. He laughs and opens your robe, “Nothing underneath? What a slut. Did you know I was going to see you tonight?”, “Just a hunch.” your fingers were itching to grab him and pull him on you, but you fought the urge to. Wordlessly, his lips meet yours again; his tongue mapping out your entire mouth while his hands make contact with your breasts. He squishes them making the both of you moan into each other's mouths.

"Want me to consume you, huh?" He laughs, putting pressure as his hands trail down slowly from your breasts down to your belly button. "Possess me. I haven't been able to think of anyone or anything else besides you till you came into my life. You own me, Ryomen." With that you see a feral glint in his eyes as he shreds his blazer and top off, revealing...tattoos on his upper arms..chest..oh fuck. your cunt gushes out a wave of wetness pathetically making your slick drip down your thighs and onto the bed bellow you- making a wet spot.

"I can't fuckin wait. Waited long enough, brat. Can't say things like that and get away with it." He gruffs out and shreds his lower half bare. Thigh tattoos too? Fuck you think you just combusted right then and there. He pushes your thighs to your chest as he bites and sucks on your neck making you mewl in response. "Please. I need you so bad, please." You beg out, you don't even know what you're begging for at this point. For him to fuck you? Bite you? Him in general? Not even you know the answer. Maybe it was all.

He lines his cock in front of your entrance, and he rubs his leaky tip against your slit up to bumping your clit which makes you clench around nothing in response. His repeats the action a few times till he couldn't handle feeling your walls twitching against him any longer.

He sinks half of his hard cock inside of your sopping pussy, "it's all in." he lies, fuck it was so much. "F-fuck you're so t-thick" you manage to whimper out as he thrusts half of his dick in. You don't know its half but fuck it had your toes curling. "S-suk-una-! A-angh!!" you cry out and he buries his head in your neck and bites hard.

You gasp wildly and moan at the sensation because when Sukuna bites, he bites hard. He keeps your legs pinned to your chest and he finally thrusts the rest of his thick length inside of you making your walls clamp wildly and a shocked expression take over on your face, your eyes widening as you struggle to catch your breath. "W-what-! A-ah! Angh! K-kuna-!" And that fucker laughs at you. He starts ramming his stupidly big cock with harsh force making your eyes roll back and drool seep out of your agape mouth. "Yeah, that's it, fuckin take it." he grunts. The aroma of the candles you had lit and the open balcony with Sukuna fucking you stupid stimulated you and your mind so much to the point you felt like you were going to go insane.

He sits up and wraps a hand around your neck, his thumb putting just the right amount of pressure on the column of your neck, rubbing his thumb up and down. Your walls convulse against him making him moan out in surprise. You make a mental note to do that more often. Without warning his hips somehow move faster and his free hand roughly grabs your tit, pinching your nipple. Fuck you couldn't even move, all you could do was just take it.

Your hands fly to his shoulders when the hand that was on your tit trails down to your stomach, his hips were smack into yours with need that made your entire body jerk up, his hand on your neck being the only thing to stabilize you. His cock was bruising your cervix with each harsh slap of his hips against yours, you could literally feel his mushroomed tip trying to rip through your stomach.

It was like his dick was trying to make a hole through your stomach so it could say hello to you. Fuck the bulge he was causing made you shake and wither around him and when he noticed it? That only made him go crazier. "Fuck..." his lips part and he lets out a low breaths grunt, "Fucking that's it." that's the last thing you blearily hear before your face is in the pillows and your ass in the air.

When the fuck did he flip us over? You don't have time to think before he drives his cock back inside of you and his thrusts are merciless. His hands grip the globes of your ass cheeks, and he spreads them harshly, exposing your tight ass hole. The cold air makes you shiver, and you almost feel your consciousness slipping. You didn't notice the tears streaming down your face because the only thing you could focus on was his dick rearranging your guts.

Your body feels like it's on fire, your senses full of him. Sukuna was all you could feel. All you could smell. All you could see, his image planted in your mind like it meant to be. It's like you could feel his entire soul.

His thumb circles your ass, hell his fucking thumb is bigger than your ass's hole. The hand that's not on your ass grabs your hair and pulks your face up. He leans over your body; basically, squishing it and presses his nose to your neck, "I have to fucking consume you. You know your little hole? Yeah? 'M going to make that mine too." Fuck you could die right now.

You try to speak but all that come out of your mouth is stuttered desperate gasps of breaths and choked moans, you claw desperately at the sheets and try to crawl away, his cock now half inside of you when you feel your body have a fire sensation spread throughout it.

"T-too m-much- angh!! " You manage to whimper out and oh does he look pissed off. One arm wraps around your shoulders and the other grips your waist and slides you back all the way down to the hilt of his cock. "You're not escaping me." He gruffs out and presses on the bulge in your stomach while he desperately yet sloppily slaps his hips into yours.

The knot in your tummy snaps and you don't cum, no, you squirt so hard all over his tummy, pelvis and thighs to the point your mouth was agape in a silent scream, your eyes clamp shut and you see pure white. "F-fuck-shit-y/n-" Sukuna moans out while he fills you up so much.

Your head felt dizzy, your body trembling into the mattress, you feel his surprisingly still hard cock slip out of you; his cum slowly dribbling out of you. "Don't think we're done, brat. Not after how much you pissed me off with your attitude.", You feel your heart drop. What. You weren't done? A rush of adrenaline rushes through your veins and you freeze when you feel his thick hands spread the globes of your ass cheeks.

"Told you, 'M gonna fuckin' consume you.", His gruff voice rings out and he runs his finger along your puffy, soaked folds- collecting the slick to lube your ass up. Once your holes wet enough, he slides a thick finger in, and you hear him laugh from how greedily your hole sucks his finger up. "N-not- funny-!" You feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment and you shove your head in the pillow bellow you. It felt like a weird sensation. "Mm lets see if you can take another one.", Before you can react, he sinks in another finger inside of you making you mewl out in response.

He chuckles darkly before sliding in another finger- 3 fingers in total- and you felt like you were going to explode. With a slosh and a pop! he removes his fingers, and you shiver in response. "'Kuna- You don't have to-", "Zip it." You bite your lip when you feel his fat tip make contact with your hole.

Fuck it was too much. Without warning he slowly sinks his length into your tiny hole, shoving your head further into the pillow while you whimpered and moaned wildly. You hear him gasp and he lets a whimper slip out when he's all the way to the hilt.

Your eyes clench shut and your walls spasm around him at the sudden intrusion. "Fuck yeah...that's it..." He breathily grunts out and slowly rocks his hips back and forth to get you used to the feeling. That doesn't last long though. He starts slamming his hips against yours as he holds your head down making you squirm and sob into the pillow.

"Fuckin' brat. Take it without cryin'." He spits out and lands a harsh spank to your ass making your entire body jolt and he palms where he slapped as a silent apology. He leans his entire body weight on top of yours while messily smacking his hips onto yours.

Your moans and cries are muffled and your entire body's tingling from both exhaustion and pleasure. The hand that's not still holding your head down snakes down to your puffy clit and he pinches it making you jolt your hips towards his. Wet sounds and skin slapping against each other filled the room along with his gasps and moans and your muffled screams.

Gripping the back of your hair he pulls your head up and bites your jaw, "'K-kuun-na-! A-Angh!!! P-pleeaaaseee-! O-ooohhhh!! Mfph!!!" Sukuna cut your blabbering off by shoving his fingers in your mouth causing you to make gurgling noises around them. His balls were slapping against your clit while he thrusted with all of his strength into you. "Fuckin' too loud. Be quiet or I'll stop fuckin' ya." At that you mouth clamps around his fingers, and you desperately try to stop yourself from screaming at how good you felt.

"I-I- shit..." He gasps, his throbbing cock twitched inside of you, and he felt his abs and thighs tense up. He was oh so close to coming inside of you. With his assault on your clit and his fingers massaging your slacked jaw mouth you felt the knot in your tummy snap as your eyes rolled back and your walls clamp around his cock. You hear him let out a strangled moan and gasp in your ear as you squirted messily all over his sensitive cock.

"Fuckin- shit-A-angh!" That's the last thing you could hear and the only thing you could feel was his leaky cock filling your ass up before your vision blackened and your body slumped against the pillow.

Sukuna can't move. He stays inside of you unmoving for a while, catching his breath and shaking slightly. Fuck. You were all he could think about, your skin, the way you looked at him, the way you shook, the way your cunt clenched around his flaccid cock. Your stupid smile. Your bratty attitude. How you looked when you were on a job. How you looked when you were at home.

Fuck. Just you. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You.

You consumed him just as much as he consumed you. His head felt dizzy, still inside of you his body slumps softly on top of yours. He doesn't even have any energy to move. Sukuna felt so warm inside it scared him. He wasn't supposed to feel warm. He was supposed to be cold hearted. It scared him how much you made him feel.

Your scent and just you in general overwhelmed his senses making his body erupt in goose bumps and shiver. Maybe consuming each other wasn't so bad.

⋆ ✩°｡⋆ 𖦹｡˚ ⋆ ✮ ༺ ⟡ ݁₊ ⊹ ა ✧ ໒ ⊹ ₊ ݁ ݁⟡ ༻ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩｡˚ ⋆

Masterlist<3

Taglist :P

@my-own-au-my-way

[burrowkit]

"you need to grow up" No, more accurately, I will do this silly thing because it sparks joy.

Adulthood does NOT equal feeling dead inside. I mean, many thinks it does, but no. Feeling dead inside doesn't accomplish anything except being burned out.

Can't do much because it's a professional environment?

Find something silly for your wallpaper on your phone. Find a silly desk decoration. Roll over to the garbage can to throw your stuff in.

Jokes of the Day are 100% a built in "adult approved" silly moment.

Also, from my experience, a lot of "silly" is just people not confirming to the same way of looking.

I say that as someone who was considered "odd" and "silly" for wearing a toque and scarf while working because the office is floor. Not silly for me, comfy, but also 100% needed.

PSA:

1. If you are not silly, it is vital you become silly

2. If you are silly, you must stay silly

2. If you used to be silly but have stopped, you must make all efforts to return to silliness

[elysiuminfra]

i want to talk about walmart for a second. if you haven’t worked or known someone who worked for walmart, you probably don’t know how bad it is. most people don’t, so i want to talk about it.

there’s a points system for absences. if you miss work, and can’t cover it with accrued time off (because you don’t just Get time off - it builds up over time. it takes about a month of straight work to get a day off.) you get a point. five points and you’re at risk of termination. all managers - team leads, and above them, coaches - have the power to excuse points so that you don’t get fired. some do, so you don’t lose your job. most don’t. five days, that’s it.

if you miss more than three shifts of work due to a medical issue, you have to go through a third party company (which isn’t really third party.) to get a medical exception so you don’t lose your job. it is hard to get this. they need a lot of documentation to prove that you somehow deserved to miss work. they don’t accept regular doctors notes. this is somehow nebulously legal. you are also forced to work while sick and infectious. flu, strep, covid, doesnt matter for all departments except produce and deli. even then, they only send you home if you throw up *at work* or have food-related illnesses. every other department you’re not allowed to go home. more than likely you are being exposed to someone who’s sick at walmart, because its either come in sick or get fired.

i work hard. everyone *has* to work hard. you are on your feet 8 hours a day. you can’t sit. there are no surfaces to sit on. some departments are harder than others. i worked in OPD, the online grocery fulfillment department. i would walk, bare minimum, 7 to 8 miles a day, hauling sometimes over 200 pounds of groceries. every day. now i work in the deli. you are constantly moving. this is very typical for the deli - you are given too many tasks to perform in one day. most days i can barely get enough done. i know people don’t take their legally entitled second breaks. I know people who have to work off the clock just to get everything done. my department - as is *most other departments* - is understaffed. i cook, clean, work the slicer, and dispense food at the same time. and trust me when i tell you the standards of cleanliness in my department is high, but in practice it is very, very poor. simply because there is usually only one of us working back there, and we just can’t do everything right all at once.

none of the “fresh” food in the bakery / produce area is fresh. the bread is baked in store, but the dough is made and frozen elsewhere. sometimes it’s been frozen for weeks. everything is shockingly artificial. same with produce. you’re better off buying your produce elsewhere, or even locally. walmart has been fraught with recall after recall.

people are cheated out of retirements. so many people I know that are at retirement age simply can’t. there are people working here in their 70s. they are being overworked. there are a lot of teenagers that work up front. they are being overworked. I know two kids who are disabled that work the register. they aren’t allowed to sit. one had to fight to be able to get a medical accommodation and only got one when he threatened to sue, because not taking a doctor’s note for an accommodation is illegal. they do it anyways. there are so many people i know personally that are disabled, have chronic pain, have mobility issues, and can’t sit. or walk miles and miles a day. one of my coworkers recently quit because she tore both rotator cuffs in her shoulders from this job. this job disables you. it kills you. (just look up how many people have died on the job due to negligence. it is not a small amount.)

even the prices are fake. sales are fake. rollback is fake. i notice how things are priced and they rarely change, even when they say they’re on sale. it’s a scam. you are being scammed.

we are overworked and underpaid for our labor. (speaking of, wages used to be higher by several dollars a couple years ago. they lowered them. my department paid 20 an hour. it only pays 16 now. almost all other departments are at a flat 14. it used to be 16.)

wage theft, lack of breaks, overtime violations, lack of sick leave, chronic understaffing and chronic abuse from management, not terminating employees that sexually harass coworkers, and piles and piles and piles of responsibilities. all of this is to say, walmart only operates because of how much they exploit their workers, and it’s in the top of the Fortune 500 list. it is impossibly dire. and it is in EVERY SINGLE store, because that is just how the work culture operates.

all salaried management is also given guides on union busting. unionization is impossible. there was one store that they completely shut down because of successful unionization efforts, laying off hundreds of people, and blamed it on “faulty plumbing.”

one last thing - if you are assaulted by a customer, you cannot defend yourself. nobody can help you, because none of us are allowed to put our hands in any capacity on a customer. if you are assaulted, you have no choice but to run and hide. I’ve heard of a worker at my store that was assaulted repeatedly over several days from people who would come in and beat her. they weren’t banned, and she was fired for fighting back. if you fight back, you’re fired immediately, no exceptions.

all of this is to say shop elsewhere. buy locally. buy at other stores. you will get better quality items and produce literally ANYWHERE else. if you can’t, be kind to Walmart workers. theres abuse at every step of the chain. even on the supply side. walmart is a corporate dystopian monster that only makes its money off of intense labor violations.

tl;dr don’t shop at walmart. it’s not worth it

[focusonkayjay]

between the ride and the roses (6)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Word count: 4.8k

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Chapter Warnings: mature language, mention of injuries and wounds.

A/N: thinking of uploading another story soon and simultaneously updating it with this story. anyways, let me know how this part was <333

part 6: bruises before the blossom

The harsh buzz of the alarm pierces through the silence, dragging Jungkook from a restless, fitful sleep. His head throbs, heavy from the lack of rest, his body aching from tossing and turning all night. The bed feels too cold, too empty, and it’s a reminder of just how miserable he feels.

Even in his sleep, his mind never truly let him escape the images of you... the sound of your voice cracking with anger, the hurt in your eyes, and the way you turned away from him.

He drags himself out of bed, a sigh slipping from his lips as he rubs at his eyes. The entire day ahead seems like a mountain he’s not sure he’s capable of climbing. He’s still trapped in the mess he made.

There’s a weight pressing down on his chest that doesn’t ease, not even when he tries to focus on the simple motions of getting ready. His mind keeps replaying the argument, each harsh word, each painful silence, and his stomach churns with guilt.

The ride to his shop is cold, the morning breeze biting through his jacket. As he rides, all Jungkook can do is replay the mess he’s made in his mind, searching for a way to fix the chaos he’s so recklessly caused.

The hum of the shop’s overhead lights and the scent of motor oil mixed with leather greet Jungkook as he steps into his motorcycle shop, the familiar setting providing a small sense of comfort amidst the chaos inside his mind.

It’s early, and the place is quiet except for the occasional clinking of tools or the sound of an engine being worked on in the back. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but it doesn’t help. The weight of yesterday still hangs over him like a dark cloud.

Yoongi’s already there, sipping coffee at the counter, his eyes flicking up when he hears the door open. He raises an eyebrow at Jungkook’s disheveled appearance and his tired eyes. He doesn’t need to ask if something's wrong.... it’s so obvious.

“Wow, you look like shit.” Yoongi comments dryly, leaning back in his seat, the mug still in his hands.

Jungkook drops his bag onto the counter with a heavy sigh. He doesn’t even respond right away, simply running a hand over his face in frustration. The guilt is eating him alive, gnawing at the edges of his every thought.

Jungkook remains silent, pulling up a stool and sitting down beside Yoongi. He leans forward, elbows on the counter, his gaze unfocused. “I screwed up, hyung. I fucking... I fucking messed up.” he starts.

Yoongi furrows his brows, not quite sure where this was coming from but he watches Jungkook carefully for a moment, before placing his mug down and crossing his arms. “What happened?” he questions.

Jungkook swallows hard. “We… we had a fight. Last night... me and Y/n... And... and I...” He pauses, grimacing at the memory of how he’d snapped, how everything spiraled out of control. “

"I didn’t listen. I said things I shouldn’t have, Hyung. Hurtful things. And the worst part, we weren't even alone. People were watching...And now… now I can’t stop thinking about it. The way she looked at me when she walked out…” His voice falters, a knot tightening in his throat. “I don’t know how to fix it.”

Yoongi’s expression hardens slightly, the disappointment clear in his eyes. “You messed up that bad, huh?”

Jungkook nods slowly, his hands trembling slightly as he grips the edge of the counter. “I don’t even know why I acted like that. I just... got so caught up in my own head, I didn’t even think about how she was feeling. And now… she’s pissed. Probably doesn’t want to see me... ever.”

Yoongi exhales sharply, rubbing his temples. “Listen, Kook… sometimes you really act like a damn idiot. But come on... you know better than this. She didn’t deserve that. I don’t care how stressed you were, how tired you were… there’s absolutely no excuse for treating anyone like that, especially her.”

Jungkook flinches at the words, but he can’t deny the truth in them. Yoongi’s never been one to sugarcoat things, and right now, his bluntness is exactly what Jungkook needs to hear.

“I know...” Jungkook mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. “I really know. I just… I don’t know what to do next. How do I fix this?”

Yoongi lets out a long, resigned sigh. "I know I helped you out last time, but this time… I’m afraid you’re on your own, Kook. You’ve got to figure this out yourself." He shrugs, not sparing the younger man a single glance.

Even though his words sting, Jungkook knows Yoongi’s right. This time, he has to take responsibility for his actions and find a way to make it right on his own.

The morning stretches on, but Jungkook’s mind is stuck in an endless loop, the weight of his actions from the previous night pressing down on him with an unrelenting heaviness. He keeps glancing over at your shop, the stillness of the street on your side, unsettling, your shop’s "Close" sign glaring in the quiet morning light.

Something’s not right. You’re never late to open. His thoughts spiral, consumed by guilt. Did his words hurt you so much that you’d decided to close for the day? The weight of the uncertainty gnaws at him, each minute dragging him deeper into the pit of regret.

As the clock ticks on and the day wears into afternoon, Jimin and Hoseok finally arrive at the shop, both as lively as always, their energy contrasting sharply with Jungkook’s clouded mood.

They step inside, their footsteps echoing on the concrete floor, but they immediately halt when they see his expression... dark circles under his eyes, shoulders hunched, and the tightness of his jaw.

Jimin raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he watches Jungkook. “What happened to you? You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

Hoseok, ever the teasing one, chuckles as he makes his way to the counter, but the moment he catches a glimpse of Jungkook’s face, the humor fades. “Man, what’s with the face? You look like a kicked puppy.” he worries.

Jungkook’s eyes flicker up to meet theirs for a moment before they quickly drop again. His heart is too heavy to lift his head properly, too consumed by the thought of you. He can barely form the words, his chest tight with an overwhelming sense of guilt.

Finally, he exhales a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and sinks onto the stool, running a hand through his messy hair.

“Y/N’s not opening her shop today...” he mutters. Jimin raises both eyebrows, the concern immediately evident on his face. “And that’s got you looking like you’re about to collapse?” he questions.

Jungkook nods, his voice strained as he continues. “I… I messed up last night. Badly. I...” His voice pauses as he struggles to form the words, the guilt threatening to choke him. “I hurt her. I said things I shouldn’t have. And now… she’s not even opening her shop. I think… I think I pushed her too far.”

Hoseok steps forward, his expression hardening as he leans against the counter, crossing his arms. “You hurt her? How? What did you do?”

Jungkook’s eyes are glassy, filled with regret. He hesitates, his mind racing back to the argument, to the harsh words he’d thrown at you in the heat of the moment. He swallows hard, before narrating the entire incident from last night.

Both Hoseok and Jimin listen to him intently and Jungkook can't seem to ignore the disappointed look on their faces.

Hoseok, places a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “You can’t undo what’s been said, but you can make things right. It’s not going to be easy, but you need to give her space. Let her process everything. Don’t push her.” he says.

Jungkook nods slowly, his throat tight. All he can do for now is just wait and see when he's about to be gifted the opportunity to talk to you again and set things right.

//

You pull the blanket tighter around you, cocooning yourself against the world as you lie in bed. The echoes of last night’s argument reverberate in your mind, pressing down like an unbearable weight. It’s not the anger that lingers... it’s the shame.

The shame of losing control, of letting your emotions boil over in front of him. You hadn’t meant for him to see that part of you... the part you keep carefully hidden, locked away behind walls you’ve spent years building. Now, the memory of it stings, and the question gnaws at you: Will he ever see me the same way again?

Today was supposed to be a normal day. You’d planned to open the shop, lose yourself in the routine of arranging flowers and greeting customers. But the idea of facing the world... facing him...feels unconquerable.

So you stayed in bed, letting time slip by as guilt and self-doubt festered. The shop, your sanctuary of independence, momentarily feels like a burden, a tether pulling you towards a confrontation you’re not ready for.

Your thoughts churn, trying to make sense of everything. The tears, the words you shouted in the heat of the moment... they feel too raw, too exposed. You wish you could take them back, even as a part of you knows they needed to be said. But guilt has a way of distorting things, making you second-guess what was right, what was wrong, and what was simply human.

As the sun dips lower in the sky, Taehyung and Juwon show up, their familiar faces offering a much needed reprieve. They find you exactly where they probably expected... in bed, unmoving, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Taehyung doesn’t ask questions, he simply sits beside you, his hand warm and steady as it rests on your arm. Juwon mirrors his quiet support, settling on your other side, their presence wrapping around you like a shield against your own thoughts.

They don’t press you for answers or force you to recount the night. Instead, they coax you out of bed with gentle persistence, presenting the takeout they’ve brought like a peace offering. Though you can’t bring yourself to talk about the turmoil brewing inside, the quiet comfort of their company begins to lighten the heaviness in your chest.

Taehyung eventually puts on a movie, something lighthearted and familiar. As the scenes play out on the screen, you find your mind wandering to tomorrow.

Closing the shop today might have been necessary, but you can’t keep hiding. There’s a business to run, responsibilities to shoulder... even if the thought of seeing Jungkook again ties your stomach in knots.

The anger is still there, simmering just beneath the surface. What he said, what he did... it wasn’t excusable. But a small, stubborn part of you wants to hear his side, to understand why. Will you ask him? Probably not. Not yet.

For now, all you can focus on is how to avoid him tomorrow, how to navigate the day without letting his presence unravel you all over again.

//

A week passes, and you’ve become somewhat of a pro at ignoring Jungkook. Each time he walks past the shop or lingers in the vicinity, you manage to find something else to focus on, your eyes never straying in his direction.

He doesn’t approach you either, which you figure is his way of giving you space. Though you wouldn’t admit it out loud, you’re grateful for the unspoken truce.

The planning meetings for the town fair have stalled, but you push the thought aside, convincing yourself it’s not worth worrying about right now.

It’s Friday evening, and the shop feels unusually quiet. Taehyung had called earlier, practically buzzing with excitement. He’s sold one of his paintings to a famous singer who not only bought the piece but also promoted it on social media. The result?

Tae's art business exploded overnight. To celebrate, he invited you and the rest of the group to a jazz club, and there’s no way you’re missing it.

You decide to close the shop early, flipping the sign on the door with a small thrill of rebellion. The usual routine of tending to customers and tidying up can wait until tomorrow. Tonight, you’re determined to let loose.

You brought your outfit with you earlier, knowing you wouldn’t have the time to go all the way back home, just to change and get ready. You head into the storeroom, a quiet hum of anticipation filling the air as you change out of the clothes you're wearing.

The dress you’ve chosen is simple yet striking, a dark, elegant number that hugs your figure perfectly. You smooth it down, catching glimpses of yourself in the small, dusty mirror propped in the corner. It’s not ideal, but it’ll do.

Once dressed, you grab your makeup bag and head to the washroom to finish getting ready. The harsh fluorescent lights are far from flattering, but you lean close to the mirror, carefully applying your eyeliner and adding a touch of highlighter to your cheekbones.

When you finally step back to take in the full picture, you pause, a small smile tugging at your lips. You look... radiant. The shadows that have clung to you all week seem to lift, and for the first time in days, you feel more like yourself. The heaviness that’s been following you takes a backseat, and you let the excitement of the evening take its place.

With one last swipe of lipstick, you grab your clutch and flick off the washroom light. Stepping back into the shop, you take a moment to glance around before locking the door behind you.

The cool evening air greets you as you step outside, a soft breeze carrying the promise of a night to remember. For the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to look forward to something other than your next obligation.

Tonight, it’s about celebrating Taehyung and, for just a little while, forgetting everything else.

Once you lock the door behind you, you’re ready to leave the day behind and immerse yourself in the celebration waiting for you. But just as you turn to head down the street, you stop in your tracks.

Sitting on the curb a few feet away is a figure so familiar, your heart recognizes him before your eyes fully process it.

Even with his face tilted downward, you know it’s Jungkook. His dark hair falls in loose strands over his forehead, and the slump of his shoulders speaks of exhaustion. He’s completely still, almost like he’s waiting for something... or someone. The sight makes you pause, confusion flickering across your face. What is he doing here, sitting outside on the curb, right outside his shop?

You take a hesitant step closer, the sharp click of your red pumps breaking the silence. The sound alerts him, because his head lifts slowly, and suddenly, his gaze meets yours.

In that instant, it feels like time itself stops. His dark, expressive eyes hold yours, and for a moment, the weight of the world seems to fall away. It’s the first time in what feels like an eternity that you’re truly seeing each other.

You take a sharp breath as your eyes scan his face, and what you see makes your stomach twist. A nasty bruise blooms across his forehead, his split lip is still raw, and the faint trace of dried blood lingers at the corner of his mouth.

He looks like he’s just come out of a fight. Panic rises in your chest, questions swirling in your mind. What happened to him? Who did this? And why is he sitting on the curb like this? You remember he was like this the other night too... the night he snapped at you, the night you snapped at him.

While your mind races, Jungkook sits frozen, too stunned to speak. He’s captivated, his eyes drinking in every detail of you like it’s the first time he’s truly seeing you. Your long hair cascades freely down your back, glossy and catching the faint glow of the streetlights.

The sleeveless cherry red satin dress hugs your curves with a perfect balance of elegance and allure, the thigh-high slit teasingly revealing the smooth length of your leg with every subtle shift of your body.

He can’t stop staring, his eyes tracing the curve of your shoulders, the way your dress glides effortlessly with your movements, and how your red pumps seem like they were made just for this moment. You look breathtaking. Ethereal. He almost forgets the pain in his body, too lost in the sight of you.

“You look…” he begins, but his voice falters. Words seem inadequate for what he wants to say. His throat tightens as he tries again, but nothing comes out. His eyes do all the speaking for him, wide and reverent, as if he’s looking at something impossibly beautiful.

Your heart hammers in your chest, torn between the storm of emotions his presence stirs and the worry that knots your stomach at the sight of his injuries. “Jungkook…” you whisper, your voice soft but tinged with concern. “What happened to you?” you question softly.

He doesn’t answer right away, his gaze still fixed on you, as though he’s afraid to look away and break whatever fragile spell this moment holds. But you don’t miss the faint twitch of his lips, like he wants to say something but can’t.

The silence stretches between you, charged and heavy, until finally, you take another step closer, your concern overpowering your hesitation. “Jungkook...” you say again, firmer this time. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Unable to hold yourself back any longer, you step towards him, your heels clicking softly against the pavement. Without a second thought, you crouch down beside him and gently place a hand on his arm, your fingers curling against the fabric of his jacket.

“Come on.” you murmur softly, your worry overpowering the tension that had hung between you for the past week. Jungkook stiffens slightly at your touch, caught completely off guard. He hadn’t expected you to come near him, let alone help him.

But before he can process it, he’s distracted by something entirely different... your scent. It envelops him, warm and sweet, with a faint floral hint that makes his head swim. It’s intoxicating, like you’re some kind of drug, and for a brief moment, he forgets the sting of his bruises.

You carefully pull him up, his weight leaning against you as he stumbles slightly. “Let’s get you inside.” you say, your tone leaving no room for argument. He doesn’t protest, letting you guide him towards the entrance of his shop. With one arm wrapped around his waist for support, you open the door and step inside, the small chime above the entrance ringing softly in the quiet.

It’s your first time in Jungkook’s shop, and as you help him inside, your eyes instinctively wander. The space feels intimate, yet rugged, filled with the unmistakable smell of motor oil and leather. Rows of polished helmets and sleek motorcycle parts line the shelves, glinting under the dim, warm lights.

A large workbench sits towards the back, cluttered with tools and blueprints, while a sleek black motorcycle stands proudly in the center of the room, gleaming like it’s just been polished.

For a moment, you’re almost in awe. You’ve passed by his shop countless times, but stepping inside feels like stepping into a part of him you’ve never seen before. Each detail seems to hold a piece of Jungkook... his precision, his passion, his identity.

But while you’re busy taking in the space, Jungkook is busy watching you. He leans slightly against you, his gaze fixed on your face, illuminated softly by the warm light.

The way your eyes dart around, curious and intrigued, makes something stir in his chest. Even now, with everything that’s happened, he can’t believe how stunning you look and how easily you take his breath away.

Finally, you spot a counter against the wall, and with a quiet urgency, you guide him to it. “Sit here.” you say, your voice firm but gentle. He lowers himself onto the stool with a wince, and you step back slightly, taking a proper look at him.

His face is a mess of bruises, and his split lip looks worse under the harsh lighting. The sight makes your chest tighten with worry.

“Look at you...” you murmur, shaking your head. “You’re hurt.” In that moment, it’s as though all the unresolved tension, the arguments, and the awkward silences are erased. The only thing that matters is him and the pain he’s in.

“Where’s the first aid kit?” you ask, your voice steady but laced with concern. Jungkook hesitates for a second, his eyes still glued to you. It’s impossible for him to look away... the way the soft red of your dress clings to you, the shine in your hair, the way you’re moving with such care for him...it’s overwhelming.

Finally, he clears his throat and gestures toward a cabinet near the workbench. “Over there.” he manages to answer, his voice hoarse. You move quickly, locating the box and pulling it out with purpose.

Taehyung’s jazz party, your plans for the night, everything fades from your mind as you return to Jungkook’s side. Setting the first aid kit on the counter, you pull out antiseptic wipes and gauze, ready to tend to his wounds.

As you gently dab at the cut on his lip, he flinches slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he watches you intently, his gaze softening with every careful motion you make. The way you focus on him, your brows furrowed in concentration, makes his heart ache in a way that has nothing to do with his injuries.

“Why didn’t you take care of this sooner?” you ask quietly, breaking the silence as you work. You don’t look at him, your focus entirely on cleaning the dried blood from his forehead, but your tone carries a mix of frustration and worry. “You shouldn’t be walking around like this.” you add.

Jungkook doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, his lips twitch into a faint, rueful smile. “Didn’t think it mattered.” he mutters, his voice barely audible. You pause at that, your hand stilling for a moment before you continue. “Of course it matters.” you say firmly, your tone soft but resolute. “You matter.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with unspoken emotion. And for the first time in what feels like forever, Jungkook feels something warm begin to thaw the cold wall between you.

You want to ask him what happened... why he’s in this state, all battered and bruised, like a fragment of some untold story. But the words falter before they can leave your lips. There’s a hesitation you can’t shake, a fear that prying might break whatever fragile tether still holds the two of you together.

So instead, you focus on the tangible, the here and now, pouring your attention into tending to his wounds while your questions remain locked inside.

For Jungkook, the proximity is intoxicating. Your scent is subtle but distinct, wrapping around him like an embrace, a drug he knows he shouldn’t crave but can’t resist. Every small movement you make draws him in deeper.

The way your long hair cascades over one shoulder, framing your face, the delicate piece of jewelry resting at the hollow of your throat, catching the faint light like a whispered secret. You look like something out of a dream, and he wonders, for the briefest of moments, if this is some cruel trick his mind is playing on him.

“Why are you all dressed up?” The words escape him before he can think them through, his voice low, almost reverent.

You glance at him, your fingers pausing for just a second before resuming their careful work on his bruised knuckles. “My friends and i are going to a Jazz club. Just a small celebration.” There’s no irritation in your tone, no sign that his question was unwelcome. Just calm sincerity, as if speaking to him like this is the most natural thing in the world.

The weight of guilt suddenly bears down on him, sharp and unrelenting. “I’m ruining your plans.” he murmurs, his eyes dropping to the floor, his voice tinged with regret.

You shake your head, an easy, unthinking gesture. “You’re not.” you reply softly. “There’s still time.” The simplicity of your words only deepens the ache inside him. How can you be this kind, this patient, after everything? The warmth of your presence, the gentle tone of your voice... it’s disarming, unraveling the careful composure he’s trying so hard to maintain.

As you place the last bandage on his forehead, smoothing it down with a tender precision, he can’t help but watch you. Every detail, every gesture, is etched into his memory like a masterpiece he’ll never get tired of admiring. And then, as you pull back, your hands brushing against his ever so slightly, something in him snaps.

Before he realizes what he’s doing, his hand finds your waist, pulling you closer with a delicate urgency. The motion is fluid, instinctive, and you freeze, startled by the suddenness of it all. Your heart skips a beat, your breath hitching as you find yourself standing between his legs, your hands bracing against his shoulders for balance. His touch is firm but hesitant, as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away.

“Jungkook…” you whisper, your voice fragile, barely audible.

He wants to speak, to apologize, to address the distance that’s grown between you, but the words just won’t come out. He’s too distracted by the feel of you so close, by the way your wide eyes meet his with a mix of surprise and something else, something he can't really read.

He opens his mouth to speak, to apologize, to say something... anything... but the words die before they can form. Instead, his gaze drops to your lips, the space between you charged with an intensity neither of you can ignore.

He drinks in the sight of you... the soft sheen of your skin, the way your breath hitches ever so slightly. He’s utterly lost, caught in the gravity of this moment, and he doesn’t want to be found.

You, too, are caught in the pull, your thoughts hazy and disjointed. Your eyes trace the curve of his lips, lingering on the slight swelling from his injury, and before you know it, you’re leaning in. The distance between you seems to disappear on its own, like some invisible force is drawing you together.

Jungkook’s heart is pounding, his hand tightening ever so slightly on your waist. His mind is a whirlwind, and yet, everything feels perfectly still. This is it, he thinks. This is the moment where everything changes. He’s so close now, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours, and he swears he can feel the faintest ghost of a connection with you.

But then, like a cruel twist of fate, your phone rings. The sound is loud, jarring, shattering the fragile bubble that had enveloped you both.

You jolt, startled as you harshly step back, breaking the connection. Your cheeks flush as you fumble for your phone from your clutch that was placed on the counter, the spell broken but the aftereffects still lingering. “Sorry,” you mumble, your voice shaky as you glance at the screen. It’s Seokjin. Of course, it’s Seokjin.

“Where are you?” his familiar voice, laced with concern comes through the line once you answer.

“I... uh...I’m on my way,” you stammer, trying to steady your voice. “I’ll... I'll be there... I'll be there soon.” You hang up quickly, your hands trembling as you slide your phone back into your clutch. Turning back to Jungkook, you open your mouth to say something, but the words won’t come. Instead, you hold your clutch close, your movements rushed and uncertain.

“I...ummm...I have...I have to go,” you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. Without waiting for a response, you turn and run for the door as your heels click against the floor while your heart pounds against your chest, your mind trying to process what just happened.

Jungkook doesn’t stop you. He stays where he is, leaning against the counter, his hand still tingling from where it had rested on your waist. A faint smile tugs at his lips, bittersweet and filled with longing. He can still feel the warmth of your presence, still smell the faint traces of your perfume lingering in the air.

His heart is a riot in his chest, his mind replaying the moment over and over like a movie he can’t turn off. He tries to calm himself down and to make sense of it all, but one thought keeps cutting through the haze. You were there, with him.

And even if it was for a fleeting moment, everything....everything felt right.

taglist: @kimyishin @ghijkd @dolligguk @mimi1097 @jksusawife @yooforeaa @abbie1847 @myjungkookthighs @thesarcasmqueen-22 @fairypjminie @lovelytaes-blog @jjeonjjk7 @daddyjeonnn @vantelover1306 @jeeykey (if i missed someone, pls lmk !!)

<- part 5 // part 7 ->

series masterlist

[night-night-stories-before-bed]

Surprising love.

Warning ⚠️; None, just fluff for once

Pairing; Alastor/Deer!Demon!Male!Reader

Summary; To everyone's shock and surprise, Alastor introduced you as his husband after the hotel was rebuilt. Chaos follow.

~~~~~~~~~

The hotel was more beautiful and grandiose than you imagined. Well, it was true that it had been rebuilt since the attack from Adam and his Angels, maybe for the better. Your eyes admired the place, wondering if your husband had had a say in some of the ideas. Like the radio tower clearly visible.

Holding a bag of food you just made, you walked inside the hotel. The first thing you saw Charlie hunched over the desk, writing on some papers with concentration painted all over her face. Poor princess didn't even hear you approaching even with your hooves clopping on the floor. You stopped in front of the desk, an amused smile on your lips as you slowly leaned down until you were at the same height as her.

- “Excuse me, princess. May I have your attention for a second?” You asked, resulting in poor Charlie almost jumping out if her skin and screaming.

You held back a laugh as she looked at you up and down, her hand resting on her chest as she calmed herself. You stood back, standing straight as you heard footsteps running toward you. You turned your head, seeing her father and girlfriend arrive first.

- “It's alright dad, Vaggie, he just scared me. Sorry! I didn't hear you coming in.” She excused herself, her breath short and you waved your hand as if it was nothing.

- “Do not worry yourself for so little, princess. I am used to scaring people.” You chuckled. “I was just wondering if my husband was around, I got him his favourite meal.”

Jambalaya made with angel’s meat as you knew he wanted to know what they tasted like. And Jambalaya had always been one of his favorites. Naturally, you didn't tell Charlie what it was made of.

She blinked, looking at you curiously.

- “Your husband?” She asked, slightly tilting her head as you wore no ring. “Who is he? I’ll look if he is registered!”

- “Oh, he definitely is.” You laughed before hearing familiar footsteps.

You turned your head only to see Alastor coming your way. Your smile grew, toothy, as Alastor stopped and smiled as well.

- “Oh Love! You came!” He said, rushing toward you.

Everyone stood frozen, eyes round with surprise as you embraced Alastor, planting a kiss on his hair. The radio demon wrapped his arms around you, his microphone resting against your back. You plunged your gaze in his and chuckled, showing the bag of food.

- “I made your favourite. Jambalaya.” You said and you saw excitation and joy in his eyes as he snatched the bag from your hand, giving your his microphone.

- “Wait, wait, wait! You and that freak? Alastor is married?” Vaggie asked, pointing at Alastor, than you.

- “Been for almost a century, darling. Nothing new there except that Jambalaya! You made a new recipe, didn't you?” He asked, smelling the bag.

- “Made it just for you.” You said, winking at him and Alastor got it instantly.

His smile grew as he kept the bag against his chest even if all eyes were on you. You almost felt uncomfortable, but decided to ignore them. They didn't truly know Alastor and your husband had the habit of keeping you a secret for your safety. After all, as an Overlord, he had many enemies.

You weren't powerless, but if it made Alastor feel better, then you didn't mind not existing. But now that he had invited you here and weren't denying your bond, even showing physical affection, you wondered who they all were to him.

You gently replaced his hair before turning your attention toward Charlie. She almost had stars in her eyes as she looked at you two, unlike her father who seemed to still be in shock.

- “Do you think it would be possible for me to join your Hotel? Of course, I will share the same room as Alastor.” You said, tilting your head while Alastor nodded as if you had asked him.

- “O-of course! It'll be a pleasure to have you around.” Charlie said, waving at you while Alastor took your hand, pulling you away.

You laughed, allowing Alastor to do as he pleased. In the elevator, you kissed your husband on the temple and he hummed, fingers playing on the bag. You could tell he was impatient to taste it.

- “Fresh angels from the battle. I got some in the freezer if you love it, so Incan makes you more meal.” You said, twinkles in your eyes.

- “Why? Thank you! It sweet of you dearest.” Alastor replied, looking at you with a true smile as you squeezed his hand gently.

Alastor took you to his room and you both made sure the door was locked before you got comfortable. Alastor immediately went to the dining table, putting the table and getting ready to eat as you took off your coat.

You joined him as he served the both of you a generous portion of Jambalaya. You ate and made small talk, asking him how his stay was and if his wound still bothered him. Alastor was honest, pointing out how bored he had been without you and that, in fact, yes the wound on his chest still bothered him sometimes.

After dinner, you took a look at his chest, finger brushing through his fur. Alastor stood still on his chair, a bit tense as you examined the healed wound. Still a bit reddish and swollen, it had healed properly.

- “Let’s put on some cream, but I don't see any sign of infection.” You said and Alastor nodded.

He stayed shirtless after you put on some cream and bandaged on his chest. You sat together on the sofa, your arms around him while he nuzzled himself against you. You turned on the radio and just enjoyed the music, cuddling with Alastor.

You felt your husband slowly fall asleep against you and you realized that he had truly missed you. Those small domestic moments were a joy to do again. You leaned down, kissing his forehead. You chuckled when Alastor grabbed your antler and lightly shook it.

No kissing, you got it. He had gotten enough and you knew he wasn't a fan of them, unlike you. You smiled, lifting your head, forcing his arm up, which had Alastor opening his eyes as he didn't let go of your antler.

- “You are falling asleep, let's just go to bed.” You offered and Alastor agreed.

You found yourself quickly in bed, Alastor in your arms and already fast asleep. Your fingers brushed his fur, your nose buried in his hair as you took in his smell. It had been months since the last time you slept next to your spouse and you had almost lost him recently. You felt that if you closed your eyes, he would disappear before you woke up. You fought sleep as long as you could, but finally gave in after a few hours.

You woke up to someone trying to get in the room, but the door was locked. Groaning, you opened your eyes and were greeted by the sight of Alastor nuzzled fully against you. His arms were wrapped tightly around you, his head rested under your chin and his breath tickled you while his legs tangled with yours. Alastor was still deeply asleep, unbothered by the stranger trying to break into your room.

Sighing, you caressed Alastor’s face before untangling yourself from his embrace. Alastor whined and groaned before turning around in almost a ball. You smiled and pulled the blankets over him before putting on a dressing gown and going to the door.

When you opened it you got face-to-face with a spider-like sinner. The man looked at you with big surprised eyes, as if he didn't expect you to open the door.

- “May I help you?” You asked, voice a bit cold.

- “Holy shit, it's true? Alastor is actually married?”

You groaned and rolled your eyes before pinching your nose. Were you really forced out of bed for that?

- “Yes, we are married.” You sighed, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe. “And you are a nosy spider, young man, coming here so early and forcing me out of bed. So is there something I can help you with or can I go back to sleep?”

- “How is Alastor in bed?” He asked with a big smile making you grunt in disgust.

- “Sleeping and that is none of your concern.” You pointed out.

- “Oh come on! Everyone is curious about how he is sexually speaking!”

- “Alastor had no interest in it neither do I. After the time he passed around you that most be clear.” You said with a sigh, shaking your head.

- “You gotta be kidding me. No sex?” he exclaimed, almost not believing it.

- “You know sex isn't the base of a healthy relationship, right? Not everyone needs it to be happy.”

It had taken you a few moments, but you recognized the man in front of you as a pornstar, Angel Dust if your memory was good. Of course, asexuality might be an alien concept for him, but you decided to not judge him for it.

You closed the door after making it clear the conversation was over and went back to bed. Naturally, Alastor had woken up by then and sat in the bed, waiting for you. You sat by his side, shaking your head.

- “Your friend Angel Dust came to see if it was true that you were married and decided it was the perfect time to ask about our sex life.”

You laughed seeing the disgust painting itself on Alastor’s face. You took his hand and kissed his knuckles before resting your cheek against them and smiled to him.

- “I told him a healthy relationship doesn't need sex, but I think it's a concept he doesn't understand yet.” You said and Alastor shook his head before resting it on your shoulder.

- “He really woke us for that?” He asked yawning as you nuzzled your nose in his hair. “I might beat his ass later today.”

- “Hush now. He is just a kid lost and who still has a lot to learn. I highly doubt he was raised properly in a loving family.” You whispered before laying back down. Alastor did the same, resting his head on your chest as you wrapped your arms around him. “Let’s forget about your friend, I’m still tired.”

Alastor hummed in agreement and you wrapped your arms tighter around him, making sure to not hurt him. You closed your eyes and were lured to sleep by your husband’s slow breath. As you fell asleep, you also felt at home. You were back where you belonged, by Alastor’s side and he was by yours once more. Seeing how clingy he was, you knew the feeling was reciprocal and you knew he would never leave you alone again.

[ultimatebottom69]

The thing is. Democrats elected HER specifically. And we already know third party vote never worked in the USA history EVER. And when it did. Well Bush did 9/11.

As i said. I understand the sentiment but objectively, it's just not happening. Better then Trump ? Sorry to say but unless you were asleep between 2016 and 2020 I can attest anyone would have been better then this clown. But due to the electoral college stupid voting thingy. Concretly Democrats Vs Republicans is the only true possible candidates.

And what the fuck the people believed in ? I am sorry. But let's be fucking honest here. What the fuck you all believed in ? You all read the Project 2025 ? Cause I did. I am European and my horror. My fucking horror. Better then Trump is not measurement it's a fact. She was not going to ban fucking abortion or trans people or Divorce or Healthcare (or well the little you have) or defund the education system again (BECAUSE HE DID THAT ) or ban muslims AGAIN.

And imma not even bring up how every single of his companies are doing financially to spare you just how bad he is and how much even if Tariffs didn't happen the prices would have raised again.

You know a big demographic of people known to want to not fucking die and kinda just wanna go buy groceries.

The USA people options were "Random stranger who laughs and probably won't make the situation better" or "Guy who explicitly told you to drink bleach when a global pandemic happened, who actively said imma bomb them kids, Love Putin, imma suck putin. Big kiss On the cheek."

This is not higher ground battle this was "Do you want to die LATER and some die or Do you want to make sure everyone suffer and many die"

USA choose. I am not debating anymore. It happened. So I am very very over the "What could she have done differently-" Well except being a man and not black and apparently being funny. Frankly not a lot. You all in the populism area of politics instead of fucking reading the program.

Imma go reblog some Gaza posts and donate if you will allow me. Good bye.

[al0velyuniverse]

IDiVIDUAL HEADCANONS ABT THE LAST ASK😓😓😓

I think this is the same anon as the one who asked about the drunk 141 x reader😭😭

Coming home drunk

Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish

Johnny is a mess when he comes home from drinking with the boys. Hands and lips all over you while you try to help him get undressed and into some sort of pajamas. Your face is being covered in kissed while you try to help him get his shirt off, whispers of “I luv ya my bonnie lass” when his lips are close enough to your ear. He never fails to make you a flustered mess

When you finally get him into bed with you he’s sprawled on top of you like a dog. Johnny tries to undress you but falls asleep halfway through. His grip is inescapable too, good luck trying to wiggle out of it until he’s properly awake.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

Kyle hates coming home drunk. He’s usually just as much of a mess, if not worse, than Johnny. He usually doesn’t make it home until after you’re fast asleep. He doesn’t want to wake you up so he’s doing his best to be quiet. The thing about Kyle is, he’s one of those people who only thinks he’s being quiet. In reality you’re being stirred awake by the sound of the door slamming shut and his boots clattering to the floor as he clumsily makes his way to the couch.

Your sleepy voice asking him what he’s doing startles him halfway off of the couch. You’re given a profuse apology for being so loud as Kyle drags you onto the couch with him, you curling up in his lap like a cat. When you both wake up in the morning he’s keeping you trapped with him for at least an hour. “you’re the best hangover cure there is” is the only excuse he’s got.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

When Simon gets too drunk out with the boys you end up having to drive out to pick him up. You’re summoned on the phone by Soap, you can hear your boyfriend yelling in the background about wanting his Dovie. He’s insistent on demanding your presence, complaining that his lovie isn’t there. However when you show up at the bar and try to give him a kiss he gently pushes you away. “you’re a pretty bird but I got a missus at home, wife won’t be too happy to see you trynna kiss me like this” This would have been sweet except you weren’t married. Johnny helps you escort Simon to your car and buckled in without much protest, he’s muttering something about ‘ruining the surprise’ as he helps.

When you finally get home Simon locks you out of the bedroom “can’t have the wife finding you in bed with me when she gets home” he yells from the other side of the door. You end up on the couch with a huff, you can’t even really be that mad though, at least he’s dedicated to you. Simon finds you the next morning and scoops you up to bring you back to your bedroom “hell you doin out there dove?”

One embarrassing explanation later Simon is hiding his face and swearing off drinking.

John Price

John holds his liquor better than any of his teammates so he doesn’t get too drunk when he’s out with the boys. However when he gets home and pours himself a glass of scotch you know you’re going to be there for a while. He always pulls you onto his lap when he drinks, enjoying the way your skin serves as a sweet chaser on his lips as he sips his drink. His beard always tickles you and makes you giggle and squirm. You’re stuck there as he pours glass after glass, giving you little sips occasionally until you’ve got a small buzz.

John caries to you to bed, the scotch making you oh so sleepy. He helps you slip into his favorite nightgown and strips to his boxers before getting nice and comfy with you in bed. His big hands grip and grope you, not in a sexual way, he just likes feeling your soft skin under his cracked and calloused fingers. Not matter how drunk he was the night before you’re always the one to wake up to a full breakfast with all your favorites.

[unknownati]

iv. ekko x gn!black!reader hcs

a/n: they got me yall.

sorry for whoever followed me for tlou content we'll be having a brief intermission i'll come back to them in a minute js let me get this out my system 😭🙏🏾

warnings/tags: no use of y/n, no mention of reader's features (except for being black, but it's only in a few points 🤷🏾‍♀️ so it can be read otherwise), arcane s2 spoilers (minor), sfw and nsfw hcs, (oral sex, kinks, riding), in some au where everyone is happy and nothing bad ever happened 😊, never proofread we ball 🔥

______________________________________________

sfw:

- i feel like ekko is a bit shy (awkward shy though, not shy-shy...does that make sense) when you first get into a relationship with him, and it's just because he's shocked that he's managed to get with you. at first he's stumbling over words, playing off your compliments, desperately trying to keep eye contact with you but if he does he just keeps smiling because you look so good.

-one time, while riding past you on his hoverboard, you waved at him. he waved back, but even as you walked away his eyes kept following you. if it wasn't for scar warning him at the last second, he would've crashed straight into a wall.

- his cockiness comes later into your relationship, every successful action he does followed by a grin that you roll your eyes at.

-and did y'all see the way he looked at powder in ep. 7? his puppy dog eyes are LETHAL.

-he doesn't even know it either. every time he wants something, he just looks at you with those eyes and murmurs "please, ☆?" you fold so quick.

-(you've tried to learn to resist his eyes as they are what caused you to sprain your ankle in a hoverboarding accident since he begged you to race him. he just wanted to show off, too. he didn't stop apologizing for weeks.)

-he usually doesn't really like people touching his hair. he's fine with the kids doing it from time to time, but in general it's not his favorite thing in the world.

-you, however

-you get a pass because you get it. you know how it feels for your hair to just be like a petting zoo from time to time. you know exactly how to help him care for his hair, so much so that he's stopped doing his own retwists. (not like they stay in for very long, you immediately help him sweat it out 😊)

-he's made a lot of random little things for you, like a small chain necklace with an empty locket. he kind of sucks at wrapping gifts though, so he just handed it to you with a stupid smile while you two were perched at the top of the firelight tree.

-"ekko, this is so cute," you mutter, your bottom lip jutted out in adoration as you inspect the delicately crafted chain. small mistakes here and there, but you loved it.

-he also learned how to sew just so he could make you a bonnet/durag. he even sewed a crude little "e" in the corner of it, and made himself one with your initial in it as well.

-will randomly shadow box you out of no where. it's some form of cuteness aggression or something, because you'll be talking about your day while absent-mindedly twiddling with the hem of your shirt, and suddenly there are fists flying towards you that he knows to never let connect.

-"...ekko, the fuck are you doing?"

-he makes small noises that sound like "shoo" every time his fist flies, watching you stare at him with an unimpressed look.

-saw someone else say this but yeah ekko can't hoop. sorry

-he CANNOT hide his facial expressions. he may tell you one thing, but his face will never lie. if you're out eating and you feed him a bite of your food, you can watch his face contort into one of disgust, so much so that he almost looks offended. upon realizing that he doesn't want to yuck your yum, he'll fix his face into the fakest smile you've ever seen and nod.

-"...ekko, go spit it out."

-you've never seen him reach for a napkin any quicker.

-idk who the arcane universe's michael jackson is but, when he was younger he absolutely learned all the dances.

-probably the biggest softie the world has ever seen. he's very tough in public, but once he closes the door behind you two and climbs into bed with you, he's clinging onto you like a sloth.

-if you like painting your nails, he'll (hesitantly) allow you to paint his nails to match yours.

-(these next few ones are sliiightly for me 🤭)

-loves when you draw on his arms.

-until he can't get whatever marker you used off of his skin in the shower, so now he's walking around looking like a coloring book with little flowers, hearts, and signatures on his arms.

-he hangs up all the drawings you make of him up along his work space. sometimes he forgets one and leaves it on his desk, so it's a pleasant surprise to find a drawing of himself among scattered and disorganized papers while he was cleaning up.

-has gotten used to you randomly biting him. you'll come up behind him while he's working, and he already knows it's coming when you rest your chin on his exposed shoulder. 2 seconds later, your teeth are sinking into his skin. he just chuckles, but he does ask once.

-"why do you do that?"

-"oh, i dunno. i just like doing it. 's how you know i like you."

nsfw (very brief i'm sorry):

-praise kink. you couldn't tell me otherwise

-loves giving praise, loves receiving praise.

-when he's giving you head, he almost does it for his own pleasure. feeling your hand rub against his undercut while you whine and mutter "fuuuck, ekko, you're so good. don't stop please" is all he needs

-and i'm glad we've all agreed he's a thigh guy too 🙌🏾

-and IK we say this about every fictional man but HE WHIMPERS.

-he starts off with groans and grunts, but the closer he gets, the more his voice starts to shake and his words start to become whines.

-he looooves when you ride him holy shit

-looking up at you while your face contorts in pleasure is absolutely on his top 10.

-and if you stare into his eyes while you do it? his soul has left thanks!

-in general he loves eye contact. when you look up at him with his length between your lips, you can see his brain start to short-circuit.

-he's definitely the type to make sure you finish first before he even gets to think about his own pleasure.

-he's usually super sleepy afterwards too, but he refuses to lay down for a second until he makes sure you're all cleaned up and comfortable before he's out cold on your chest.

______________________________________________