#this is something that has been on my heart for ages and it's not going to kill me overnight. i understand it's unhealthy. im working on it

[bsturnzmtts]

Off limits p. 1 - Matt Sturniolo

Pairing: older sisters bf!Matt x innocent!reader

Summary: You’ve always had a small crush on your sister’s boyfriend. But you never acted on it, not until this summer, after you found out some things that changed everything.

Warnings: long plot?, cheating (I don’t condone cheating this is all fiction), teasing, age gap (Matt is 22 reader 18), virgin!reader, oral, lowkey mean!sister, kissing, first orgasm, fingering, pet names, almost caught.

A/n: idk why this took to long sorryy, I hope you guys like it! There will be a part 2! Maybe a bit more spicy…

Word count: 4209

You’ve always had a small crush on Matt Sturniolo. Not in a serious way, just one of those quiet, innocent feelings you keep to yourself. He’s your sister’s boyfriend, after all. Off limits. But still, he’s the only one who’s ever really paid attention to you. He remembers the little things, asks how your day is going, actually listens. Your sister barely does any of that. She’s distant, cold, always annoyed, with you, with him, with everything. So yeah, maybe deep down, you wished Matt was yours.

You’re heading to the cabin early just you, your sister, and Matt. Your parents won’t be arriving for a few more days, so it’ll just be the three of you for a while. It’s supposed to be a relaxing start to summer, until you find out something you weren’t supposed to.

A few nights before the trip, you overheard your sister on the phone where she mentioned she cheated on Matt. She doesn’t know you heard. And Matt still has no clue. Since then, you haven’t been able to act the same around Matt. Everything feels different and confusing.

Later

The cabin is quiet, the only sounds coming from the chirping birds outside and the gentle rustling of leaves. You're sitting on the porch swing, watching Matt carry in the last of the bags from the car. He looks up and catches your eye, giving you a warm smile that makes your heart flutter.

Matt walks over to you, and sets down the bags. "Hey," he says softly, sitting down next to you on the swing. "You okay? You've been quiet since we got here." He nudges your shoulder gently with his own.

Your sister walks out onto the porch just then, overhearing Matt's question to you. She rolls her eyes and interrupts before you can answer. "She's fine, she's always quiet, Matt. Get used to it."

Matt looks between you and your sister, a faint frown on his face. He seems a bit taken aback by her dismissive tone.

“Yeah… yeah I’m fine, just a bit car sick.” You try to brush it off, not wanting to cause any tension. “I’ll go set up my room” You stand up and leave.

You head inside, the cabin still smells like old wood and summer air. You walk down the short hallway to the room you always stay in.

You set your bag down on the bed and sink into the mattress, letting out a slow breath.

You’re not even sure why you lied. You’re not car sick. You just can’t look Matt in the eyes right now.

Not when you know what you know.

Not when he’s still smiling at your sister like she deserves him.

After a few hours, you get hungry and decide to head to the kitchen.

You open your door quietly, stepping into the hallway.

Just as you do, Matt walks out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower, hair damp, a towel slung low around his hips. You freeze mid-step.

He notices you and pauses, a little surprised. “Hey,” he says, a small smile on his face.

Matt's towel is wrapped around his waist, but beads of water are still dripping down his chest and abs. He runs a hand through his wet hair, leaving it slightly messy.

Your heart races as you take in the sight of him. The way the towel barely covers his hips, the muscles of his chest and arms on full display. You feel a warmth spread through your body, a feeling you've never experienced before. You swallow hard, trying to find your voice.

"Uh..." You stammer, your face turning red. You quickly avert your eyes, not wanting him to see the sudden flush on your cheeks or the way your heart is pounding in your chest. "I was just gonna get something to eat."

Matt chuckles softly, seeming to find your reaction adorable. "Help yourself," he says, continuing to walk down the hall towards the bedroom he shares with your sister.

As he walks away, you can't help but steal one last glance at his back and the way the towel hangs low on his hips. You let out a shaky breath and quickly make your way to the kitchen, your mind racing with thoughts you shouldn't be having about your sister's boyfriend.

You grab a soda from the fridge and some chips from the cabinet, trying to focus on anything other than the image of Matt half-naked. You sit down at the kitchen table, taking a big gulp of your soda. Suddenly, you hear some screaming from the bedroom.

The screaming is followed by loud arguing voices - your sister's high-pitched shrill and Matt's deep, frustrated tone. You tense up, recognizing the signs of another one of their fights. This has been happening more frequently lately.

You sit there for a few minutes, listening to the argument escalate. Suddenly, there's silence. And Matt comes out of the bedroom, now dressed, with a pillow in his hand and shuts the door behind.

He sees you sitting at the table and pauses briefly before walking over to the couch. He throws himself down on it, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"You okay?" You ask softly, genuinely concerned. The argument was loud and intense. Matt looks over at you, his expression tired and annoyed. "I'm fine," he snaps, but there's no real anger in his voice, just frustration. He lays back on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

You hesitate for a moment before getting up from your chair and walking over to him. ”You can have these.” You say softly as you leave the chips on the coffee table. “I’ll go get you a blanket”

Matt's expression softens slightly as you hand him the chips and offer to get him a blanket. "Thanks..." he murmurs, seemingly caught off guard by your kindness. He's touched by your thoughtful gesture, especially after the fight he just had with your sister. As you return with the blanket, he sits up and takes it from you, he lets out a heavy sigh. "You shouldn't hear all that shit," he adds quietly, as if realizing you probably caught most of their argument.

You shrug, trying to downplay it. "It's fine…I'm used to it," you admit quietly, looking down. "You two fight a lot lately." You bite your lip, debating whether to say more, but you decide not to. “Goodnight” you softly mumble as you head to your room.

Matt nods slowly, taking in your words. He knows their relationship has been strained, but he didn't realize it was that noticeable. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but then closes it again, seeming to think better of it. Instead, he just nods slightly. "Goodnight," he replies softly, watching as you head to your room.

The next morning, Matt is already awake and sitting at the kitchen table when you come downstairs. He's drinking coffee and scrolling on his phone, but he looks up as you enter. "Morning," he says, his voice a bit gruff from sleep but carrying a warmth that wasn't there yesterday.

You pour yourself a cup of coffee and sit down across from him, trying to act casual. "Morning," you reply softly, taking a sip. The tension from last night seems to have dissipated, but there's still an underlying awkwardness between you both. “Where’s my sister?”

"She left early," Matt answers briefly, running a hand through his messy hair. "Had some errands to run." He avoids your gaze, focusing on his phone instead. There's a pause before he adds, "She won't be back till late." Another silence falls between you two.

You nod, taking another sip of your coffee. The house feels oddly quiet without your sister around, and the tension with Matt is making the atmosphere even more uncomfortable. You set your mug down and fidget with the hem of your shirt, debating whether to say something to break the ice. "So..."

"Mm?" Matt lifts his head up to look at you, those deep blue eyes meeting yours.

"Nothing," you say quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up slightly at the sudden eye contact. You look away, feeling self-conscious. "I was just going to... ask something stupid."

Matt raises an eyebrow but smiles slightly, leaning back in his chair. "Ask something stupid then," he says teasingly, trying to lighten the mood. His expression is more relaxed than it has been since last night.

"Um... nevermind," you laugh softly, feeling embarrassed. You stand up suddenly, grabbing your coffee mug. "I'm gonna go..." You trail off, heading towards the living room before you can say something even stupider.

Matt watches you go, a small smile still playing on his lips. He shakes his head slightly, amused by your flustered reaction. After a moment, he gets up from the table and follows you into the living room. "You know what?" he says as he leans against the doorway.

You turn to face him, holding your coffee mug tightly. "Hmm?" you a, your voice slightly shaky. He looks handsome standing there in his worn-out t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair messy from sleep. You quickly avert your gaze, focusing on your mug instead.

"You get really shy all of a sudden," Matt remarks softly, observing your body language. He's starting to realize that you hardly maintain eye contact, like you're nervous around him. “And you’ve been acting a bit weird around me lately.”

"Have I?" you ask quietly, taking a small sip of your coffee to avoid answering immediately.

"Yeah..." Matt observes your facial expressions carefully. He's starting to wonder if he imagined the fact that you used to laugh and joke around with him easily. Now you barely look at him or talk to him much. "Did I... do something to make you act like this?"

You shake your head quickly, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. "No," you say softly. "You didn't do anything wrong." You finally look up at him briefly before glancing away again.

Matt notices your quick glance and the slight blush on your cheeks. He's starting to piece things together but wants to hear it from you directly. "Then why are you acting like this?" he asks gently, taking a step closer. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

You bite your lip, feeling your heart race as he steps closer. You can feel the heat radiating off of his body. You don’t know if you should snitch on your sister and tell him the truth, or just stay quiet about her cheating.

"Listen..." gentle but carrying a hint of frustration. "If it’s about your sister cheating on me… i already know.”

You freeze slightly, then relax. "So..." you say carefully, testing the waters. "You know?" You try to keep your voice steady, like you're not curious about whether he's heartbroken or not.

"Yeah," Matt confirms briefly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He watches your reaction carefully. "I’m not blind or dumb you know.” He lets out a small chuckle.

"Does she… know you know?" You ask softly, your curiosity getting the better of you. You set your coffee mug down on the side table, turning to face him fully. You can't help but notice how calm he seems about the whole thing.

"No, she doesn’t," Matt replies, his gaze lingering on your face. "I’ve been pretending like everything's normal between us. But to be honest... I'm tired of it. I'm tired of her lies and secrets. Plus she loves arguing with me about nothing literally, I’ll just let her be. I'm not gonna chase after her this time.”

You notice a hint of relief in his voice, and you can't help but feel a little lighter knowing he's not heartbroken over her. "I... didn’t know if I should’ve told you, I didn’t want to snitch on my sister. I’m sorry.”

Matt smiles slightly, finding your innocence cute. "You don't need to apologize," he says gently. “I know you knew about it too,” Matt says suddenly, catching you off guard “I saw how you were acting around me lately… like something was bothering you.”

"You could tell?" You ask softly, feeling a bit embarrassed that he noticed your unusual behavior.

"Yeah," he says with a small smile, taking another step closer to you. "You've been avoiding eye contact, hardly talking to me... pretty obvious actually." His eyes meet yours intensely, holding your gaze just a little longer than usual. "I mean, we always had a good relationship."

"Yeah," you agree quietly, your heart beating a bit faster as he steps closer.

Matt's smile widens slightly as he sees your reaction. He decides to take another step forward, closing the gap between you two. "You know..." he continues softly, his voice carrying a tone that makes you feel slightly nervous and flustered. “We could make our relationship even better… while she’s out.” He says, looking at your lips briefly before meeting your eyes again.

"But..." you stammer slightly, feeling your face flush. His closeness is making it hard to think straight. "You..." you try to form a coherent sentence but your voice comes out quieter than intended. "You’re my sister's boyfriend…”

"I know…" he murmurs softly, his presence almost deliberately invading your personal space. His hand gently finds its way to lean against the wall behind you, effectively trapping you there gently but intentionally. "But she cheated on me." He adds with a hint of a teasing smirk, his eyes searching yours.

"Yeah… I know," you whisper softly, trying to keep your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. Your eyes flicker down to his lips briefly before meeting his gaze again. "But..." you hesitate, feeling torn between guilt and desire. “You’re still my sister’s boyfriend…”

Matt's smirk grows wider, understanding your internal struggle. He leans in just a fraction closer, his breath mingling with yours. "Yet you still have a crush on me," he whispers, his lips almost brushing against your ear as he speaks.

You blush deeply, feeling heat spread across your cheeks. "I..." you try to deny it but the words catch in your throat. You look up into his eyes, seeing the desire mirrored there. "How do you know?," you a softly, your voice barely audible.

He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes directly, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. "Because I've seen the way you look at me," he says honestly, his thumb lightly brushing over your bottom lip. "The way you blush when I'm around..." He chuckles gently remembering how nervous you always get. “How flustered you got yesterday when you saw me walk out of the shower.”

Your face turns beet red at the memory of seeing Matt half naked, his muscular body dripping with water. You can't help but get more nervous as he continues to tease you, his thumb pressing softly against your lips. "You..." You swallow hard, his thumb still on your lip making it difficult to speak. "You can't... You can't just say stuff like that." Your voice comes out breathy and weak.

Matt laughs softly, finding your innocence adorable. "You always get like this” He muses, realizing how innocent you really are. "Have you…kissed before?”

You hesitate before shaking your head softly, your eyes flickering down to his lips briefly. "Never," you admit quietly, your voice barely audible. You swallow hard, feeling even more nervous now that he knows you have no experience.

Matt's heart races at your admission. He can't believe how innocent you are - no kisses, no boyfriends... He leans in slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away if you want to. His lips brush against yours softly at first, testing the waters. “Fuck…” he whispers under his breath before pressing his lips gently against yours. It's a soft kiss, testing the waters while giving you plenty of opportunity to pull away if needed.

You freeze initially, shocked by the sudden kiss. Your eyes widen slightly before closing instinctively. You part your lips softly without even realizing it, giving him better access. Matt deepens the kiss gently, his hand moving from your cheek to the back of your neck to hold you closer.

The kiss is gentle and exploratory, unlike anything you've ever experienced. Your heart races in your chest as you feel his lips move against yours, his tongue tracing your bottom lip softly. You whimper softly, unsure of what to do but unable to pull away.

Matt takes your whimper as encouragement and slips his tongue into your mouth, gently exploring. He kisses you deeply, passionately, pouring all his pent-up desire and frustration into it. His hand moves from your neck to the back of your head, holding you in place as he kisses you breathless.

Matt breaks the kiss, breathing heavily as he stares at you with heated eyes. A smirk plays on his lips as he sees your flushed face and parted lips.

“Did you like that?” Matt asks, his voice low and huy. He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. "I know I did." His hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You're too stunned to speak, your mind reeling from the intense kiss. All you can manage is a soft, breathy "Mm-hmm" as Matt's hand on your waist sends shivers down your spine.

Matt smiles softly at your response, finding it cute how innocent you are. He tests another question, "Do you want to learn more things?” His voice drops lower.His thumb brushes your hipbone, making you squirm slightly.

You bite your lip nervously, unsure if you should ask but too curious to stop now. "More... things?" you repeat softly, your cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of red. Your eyes flick down to his lips briefly before meeting his gaze again. "Like... what?"

Matt's smirk deepens, enjoying your innocence and curiosity. "You'll see," he says softly, his voice laced with promise. He takes your hand gently and leads you towards the bed. His movements are slow and deliberate, giving you plenty of time to change your mind if you want to.

Matt gently pushes you back onto the bed, following you down so that you're lying underneath him. He props himself up on his elbows, caging you in between his arms. "Open your mouth." He says, his voice low and huy.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what he wants to do. But the curiosity and excitement in your chest wins out over your nerves. You open your mouth slightly, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

Matt swallows hard, finding your obedience incredibly sexy. He lowers his face to yours and slips his tongue into your open mouth again, this time kissing you deeper and more intensely. His hand moves to your thigh, slowly hiking up your skirt as he kisses you.

As Matt kisses you deeply, his fingers trail up your inner thigh, getting closer to the hem of your underwear. You whimper softly into the kiss, one of your hands gripping his shirt tightly stopped his hand.

Matt freezes, his tongue still exploring your mouth. He pulls back slightly to look at you, watching as you unconsciously tighten your thighs together. "Trust me, I’ll make you feel good." His voice drops lower, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your thigh where your hand stopped him.

"But..." you whimper softly, biting your lip as your legs press together tighter. "It's just..." You bite your lip again, hesitating. "No one's ever touched me there before." You admit softly, your cheeks burning red.

"Shhh..." he hushes you softly, his other hand gently stroking your hair. "I just wanna make you feel good" he whispers against your lips. His thumb traces the edge of your underwear, making you shiver.

He kisses you deeply again to distract you as his fingers slowly slip underneath your underwear. You gasp into his mouth as he touches you there for the first time, his fingers gentle and exploratory. He breaks the kiss to whisper,"Shh, just relax..." His fingers start to move slowly over your clit.

You let out a soft whimper as his fingers start to move, your back arching slightly off the bed. It feels strange at first, but also really good. You bite your lip to stifle a moan as he continues to touch you, your legs falling open unconsciously.

Matt watches you carefully, seeing your innocent reactions. He adds more pressure to your clit, his fingers moving in slow circles. He swallows hard watching how responsive you are, completely untouched before. "Spread your legs wider for me," he whispers huskily against your neck, placing soft kisses there.

You spread your legs wider as he asks, feeling shy but also wanting more. He slips a finger inside you slowly, watching your face closely. You're so tight and wet for him that he has to go slow. He kisses your neck again to calm you down.

"Fuck, you're so fucking tight." He whispers against your neck. He starts to move his finger slowly in and out of you, stretching you. You whimper softly, gripping the bedsheets. It feels weird having something inside you, but it also feels really good.

He adds a second finger, stretching you gently. You let out a soft cry into his shoulder as he kisses you deeply to muffle the sound. His fingers curl inside you, hitting a spot that makes your whole body jerk. "Shh shh shh..." he whispers against your lips, kissing you softly.

You clench around his fingers tightly, panting heavily as he continues to touch you in all the right spots. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close as you bury your face in his chest to muffle your moans. "M-Matt..." you whimper his name, "It feels so...weird, but good..." You bite your lip, your face flushed.

Matt smiles softly at your words, pleased by your innocent reactions. He continues to move his fingers inside you slowly while rubbing your clit with his thumb. "I know baby," he whispers, kissing your forehead gently. "Let me make it feel really good..." He picks up speed slightly.

Without warning, he starts moving down your body, placing kisses along your stomach. You blush deeply, trying to close your legs but he gently keeps them open. He looks up at you with hooded eyes. "Just trust me, okay..." He slowly starts taking off your skirt and panties.

He throws your clothes aside and spreads your legs wider, settling between them. He looks at your innocent pussy, completely bare and untouched. He swallows hard before diving down and pressing his mouth against you. You let out a loud gasp as he starts licking and sucking on your clit gently.

His tongue moves expertly over your clit, his hands spreading your legs wider to give him better access. He keeps his movements gentle and slow, knowing you're a virgin. You start squirming underneath him, your hands gripping his hair as you whimper and moan softly.

You pant heavily, your voice trembling with pleasure. "M-Matt...what...what are you doing...it feels so...good..." You arch your hips up slightly towards his mouth trying to get more pressure from him.

He looks up at you briefly, his eyes dark with desire. "Just enjoying you..." He says before going back down to lick your pussy more eagerly now that he knows you're loving it. He slips two fingers inside you again while continuing to suck on your clit.

"Oh my god..." you gasp out, your body tensing as his fingers move in and out while his tongue works its magic on your sensitive clit. "It's...it's too much..." Your legs shake slightly, and you can feel yourself getting closer to something you've never experienced before.

He feels you getting closer and starts moving his fingers faster, curling them inside you to hit that spot that makes your eyes roll back. He sucks hard on your clit, wanting to make you come undone. "That's it baby, let go for me..." he murmurs against your pussy.

Suddenly, you break apart. Your back arches off the bed and you let out a loud moan that turns into a series of whimpers as you come for the first time. Matt keeps his face buried between your legs, lapping up your release gently as your body shakes with pleasure.

He kisses his way back up your body once you've stopped shaking. He looks down at you with soft eyes filled with love and desire. "Did that feel good baby?" He asks, kissing your neck gently.

You’re about to answer as you hear the front door opening.

"Matt?" Your sister's voice calls out from the front door. You both freeze, your eyes wide with shock and panic. Matt quickly pulls up your skirt to cover you, but you can still feel the wetness between your legs and the lingering sensitivity.

Matt quickly kisses your forehead and jumps off the bed, and helps you get up "Go hop in the shower real quick, okay?" He says quietly, giving you a soft smile to calm you down. "I'll deal with her."

Taglist pt 1:

@blahbel668 @bernardsbendystraws @sturnzsblog @deffonotjae @suyqa

@mattsturniololover1 @mattsturniolosgf @annsx03 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @strnzzvsp

@mattsfavbitchhh @yourenogoodforme-blog @mattshighway @lauren-222 @slvtformatts

@megamorgan44 @xaristhings @ariestrxsh @sucretwin @tisiablack

@nelxoxo14 @miasturn1ol0 @mattssslutbby @sophsturns @sturnberrys

@sturniololover69 @wakeupitschrizz @jessie-essie @freshlov3 @sturniolofreakk

@lydi2718 @chrisstvrns @le4hsblog @pip4444chris @chris-hallelujah

@esioleren @namelesssav @ilovemenwithlonghairr @ribread03 @valkatriee

@sturniolofreakk @izzylovesmatt @lolastrniolo @pip4444chris @idrk2292

@strnilolover @2prcntmilkluvr @chrissbows @chrissweetheart @strvnolin

[formulafanfics13]

Hi! Can I request something where reader is an engineer and us having multiple one night stand with Toto and they don’t realize they’re actually in love until someone a celebrity or something shows interest and Toto gets all jealous and possessive? Pretty pls 🥺

No One Else Gets to Touch You - Toto Wolff 🔥

Masterlist

summary: You've been hooking up with Toto for months. Just sex. Just chemistry. But when a celebrity flirts with you in the paddock and his hand slides low on your back? Toto sees red—and suddenly, your situationship doesn't feel so casual anymore. warnings: dom!toto, engineer!reader, jealousy, possessiveness, power imbalance, implied age gap, established situationship, accidental feelings, soft degradation, mirror sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, claiming kink, unprotected piv, mild angst, Toto being a little feral, messy emotions, intense eye contact, soft aftercare

It's supposed to be casual. It always has been.

Late nights in your hotel room after debriefs. Long days that end in his hands gripping your hips, his mouth whispering filth into your throat as he fucks you over the desk in his suite. You're an engineer. He's the boss. It started with stress and heat and too much unsaid in a sport that never slows down.

No strings. No cuddling. Just orgasms and silence. And you were fine with that. Until Miami. Until he showed up. The actor. The Netflix golden boy. The man with the perfectly tailored suit and a charming smile who wandered into the Mercedes garage with an all-access pass and a ridiculous amount of confidence.

He finds you by the pit wall. Talks to you like he knows your whole résumé. Asks smart questions about power units and tyre degradation. Laughs when you joke about brake bias.

Then, he touches you. Just a hand on your back. Nothing sinister. Just... there.

But Toto sees it. From the other side of the garage, through the glass. And he stops mid-sentence.

He doesn't speak to you after FP2. Not immediately. Not in front of the team. Not during the meetings. But when you get back to your hotel room that night, alone, exhausted, the beginning of a headache blooming behind your eyes, your phone buzzes.

Room 210. Now.

You stare. Not please. Not can I see you? Just a fucking order. You go anyway. And the second the door swings open, you know.

His tie is still on. His sleeves are rolled up. His jaw is clenched.

"Toto-"

He pushes you inside. Kicks the door shut. Grabs your waist so hard you gasp. "You think this is a game?" he growls, mouth at your ear.

"What?"

"You think I'm going to watch someone else touch you in my garage?"

You blink, breath catching. "He was just- talking-"

"He had his hand on you."

"It's not like you-"

"I'm not watching you fuck someone else," he snaps. "Not now. Not ever."

Your heart stutters. "Toto-this was supposed to be casual-"

He freezes. Then pulls back just enough to look you in the eye. "You think this is still casual?"

You say nothing. He smiles. But it's not kind. "Take your clothes off. Now."

The sex is different. Not rougher. Not meaner. Just more. More hands. More pressure. More intent. He strips you slow. Stares at your chest like he's memorising every curve. Drags his fingers down your spine like he's claiming it. Then he kisses you. Deep. Possessive.

"Get on the bed."

You do.

He slides down your body like a fucking shadow, mouth hot, hands firm, until his face is between your thighs.

He eats you like it's the last time. Like he's trying to erase every other man from your memory with his tongue. You come twice before he even takes his pants off.

Then he's inside you. Deep. Stretching. Groaning into your neck as your body clenches around him. "You belong to me," he mutters. "You hear me?"

You gasp. Nod. Cling to his shoulders.

"Say it."

"I belong to you."

"Louder."

"I fucking belong to you-Toto-"

He fucks you through it, eyes locked to yours, until he comes with a broken moan, deep inside you, filling you up with a possessive hiss of your name.

You lie there, stunned. His chest against your back. His fingers tracing your ribs. He's still inside you. Neither of you says anything for a long time. Then, "I didn't know I loved you," he says quietly. "Not until I thought I might lose you."

Your throat tightens. You turn in his arms. "Toto-"

"Let me love you properly," he murmurs, forehead pressed to yours. "Not just behind closed doors."

You nod. Because you've been his long before either of you ever said it out loud.

[casscainmainly]

Do you have any favorite cass artists both comic artists and fan artist?

OMG FAV ASK EVER EVERRR YES I DO!!!!! For comic artists I am a Damion Scott defender til the DAY I DIE, his is THE Cass art ever and he captures her essence so well. Some of my FAVS:

Batgirl (2000) #7 / Detective Comics #734 / Batgirl (2000) #23 (I love when he does the close-ups of her eyes... BEAUTIFUL)

I also adore Rick Leonardi's art, he provides some of the most beautiful big brown-eyed Cass panels:

Batgirl (2000) #48 / 54 / 50 (maybe my fav child Cass what a cutie)

I also LOOOVE Isaac Goodhart's recent Cass art, GORGEOUS!!!

Batgirl (2024) #7 / 8

I'm also a HUGE sucker for Dustin Nguyen's Cass, this is to die for:

The first two are pieces he drew floating on the internet, the last is from DC Festival of Superheroes (his story is adorable!! read it!!)

As for covers, fellow Hong Konger Audrey Mok has some AMAZING Cass variants, I think about these two covers everyday:

I don't WANT Cass in HK but my soul lights up every time I see these covers. CASS ON A MINIBUS!! THE CUP FROM CHA CAAN TENG + BO LUO BAO!! I love these so so so much Audrey Mok THANK YOU!!

AND OF COURSE THE ONE AND ONLY JAMES JEAN churning out banger after banger:

These might be the most gorgeous covers EVER AHAEFHUIH. I am also a huge fan of David Talaski and Skylar Patridge's Cass covers!!! And the Jessica Fong angel variant for BG '24 #8 HAS MY HEART!!

AS FOR FAN ARTISTS. We're living in the golden age of Cass fanart, every single piece I've seen has been GORGEOUS. These are some of my personal favs, if I didn't include someone it's just because there are too many incredible Cass artists out there!!!!!

@intraterrestriall is one of the pillars of Cass fanart to ME!! Some of my fav pieces are Cass and irises, David and Cass, Cass in sheep's clothing, and THIS ONE MY FAV FOREVER.

I constantly bless the day @getthembees joined Cass nation because CHECK OUT THIS ANIMATIC. Also Cass dancing, this cool one, and these StephCass kisses ougheougiwbibvsdb.

I would be REMISS not to mention @snersona of course. My fav pieces include puffy jacket Cass, this one!!, THIS ONE!!!!!, and bug.

@micaerula art is so soft and gorgeous I'm SOO IN LOVE. Have some Babs and Cass, StephCass angst, this StephCass art that rewired my brain chemistry, and my personal fav!!

I could eat @ashoss art for breakfast lunch and dinner it's so so so so good. Such as cracked mirror Cass, DUKE AND CASS BATWHEELS, this one ARHHHGH, and this faver of all time!!!!

THIS POST IS GETTING TOO LONG so going to quick-fire the rest of my FAVS FOR LIFE:

@mysterycitrus the Dick blog ever but their Cass is the beautifullest wonderfullest girl

@forthekeres with THIS BANGER (this is my personal joy machine I look at this piece whenever I need to feel something)

@littlegreekhero my beloved Tai mutual with this precious girl!! and THIS STEPHCASS COMIC GO READ

@winged-bat with this bangerrrrr and the CassBrenda agenda

@noirecheris3 basically the leader of CassRose nation but I also think about the StephCass Little Mermaid AU everyday

@mmilhoja with THIS and THIS and THIS. Actually shakes me to my core to look at these the talent is unbelievable

@red-velvet-void with Duke and Cass and the little hair bat ears my beloved

@binglepringle with THE bg 24 5 inspired winner and customer service Cass

@andstuffsketches with this and THISSS MY FAV MY LOVE

@oifaaa with this (changed my life) and THIS CUTIE

I'm missing a lot of people because Cassie artists are all INCREDIBLE!!! Special shoutouts to the comic artist Mahmud Asrar (where my pfp's from in Batman Vs Robin #5!!) AND to @pseudofolio for their amazing older Cass comics and @mysteriousbeetle for these bangers.

[writingfortoomanyfandoms]

Cool Points (Part 2)

Pairing: Lando Norris x female!Reader (pro footballer player)

Summary: Having fought long and hard for custody of her two younger siblings, Y/N was ready for smooth sailing at least until the F1-obsessed twins became teenagers. What she wasn't expecting was for Lando to come and turn her world upside down

Warnings: Swearing, a lil angst, talks of past child neglect and allusion to past child abuse, slow burn to start but largely just domestic fluff so we good

Word Count: 4,866

A/N: Part two - I hope you guys enjoy. There'll be one more part to bring us to present day, so just a lot of domestic fluff to come. Please let me know what you thought and if you'd like to see more F1 writing in the future ❤️

Part One

2022 (Age 22)

“Y/N - hang back a sec, if you would?”

Y/N slowed to a jog, gesturing to Tara to continue onto the changing room without her as she turned around to face where their coach, Jude, and captain, Liza, were standing. From one of the stands, she could still hear her siblings and Lando cheering - she was sure they had made a game of it, to see who of them could cheer the loudest for their training, but Y/N couldn’t particularly find it within herself to care.

“What’s wrong?” She panted, hands on her hips.

“Take a second to catch your breath,” Jude ordered. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Liza said, practically beaming at her.

Y/N was going to miss Liza - she had announced at one of the training sessions the previous week that she would be leaving Chelsea. She had been Y/N’s captain ever since she herself had signed her contract when she was 18, and she knew it had been Liza who had vouched for her place on the national team both in the Olympics and the World Cup. More than that, she had been a valuable character witness during the adoption hearing for the twins, vouching for Y/N’s capability as a guardian to the two kids.

“Good work today,” Jude started. “There’s for sure been some improvement with your footwork - and your teamwork with Tara-"

“It’s like you’re telepathic sometimes,” Liza cut him off. “Which is exactly what you want for your midfielders.”

“Ah - thank you,” Y/N said, not quite sure what to make of the sudden compliments. 

“When Liza told me of her plans to leave, I asked if she had any suggestions for who should be named Captain,” Jude began. Y/N’s heart thudded in her chest as she began to connect the dots.

“I put you forwards,” Liza confirmed. “I think you’re ready.”

“I’ve been watching more closely for the past week and I have to agree.”

“I… I’m flattered,” Y/N began slowly. “But - my schedule, and there are others who have more experience.”

“Maybe - but the team listen to you, they respect you,” Jude informed her. “Just - think about it for now. We’ll schedule a meeting to go over it next week, alright? I know you have… other commitments.” As if on cue, there was another shriek of laughter from the stands and Y/N had to smile. “But we can work something out, okay?”

“I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Good man,” Jude said, clapping his hand on her shoulder. “Now - it sounds as though you’ve got some adoring fans to get to.”

“Yeah - sorry again about that. The Goblins insisted Lando come to watch training,” Y/N said apologetically.

“It’s nice to have them here - it’s been a while since you’ve brought them.”

“Despite my best attempts, they still have minimal interest in football.”

“A shame - suppose it doesn’t help that your boyfriend’s an F1 driver, he’s bound to be encouraging that.”

“Me and Lando aren’t together,” Y/N dismissed immediately. “But he definitely has a hand in their continued love of all things Forumla One.”

“I’ll certainly miss them when I leave the team, though,” Liza inputted, making Y/N roll her eyes.

“Please - when I told Haz you’d signed a new contract, she asked if I’d buy her merch for your new team because she wants to change allegiance. Absolute nightmare child.” 

“That’s my girl,” Liza laughed.

Y/N lifted a hand as she jogged away from her manager and old captain, her mind racing with thoughts of what they had proposed. When she got to the changing room, only Tara was still inside, brushing her hair out.

“What did they want? Offer you the captaincy?” 

“How’d you know?”

“We’ve been taking bets as a team,” Tara shrugged. “Which you’d know if you ever came out for team drinks,” she added, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“I try and come for the first round!” Y/N protested, grabbing her towel and heading towards the showers. Tara followed her, leaning against the wall with a grin.

“And you always pay for the first round - which is why we keep you around,” she got a more serious expression then. “But it’s true, then? They made you captain?”

“They’ve asked me to think on it,” Y/N corrected, beginning to strip.

“You’re going to say no, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know - maybe.”

“Your twins would be fuming if they know they’re the reason,” Tara warned her.

As if on cue, there was a knock at the changing room door and the sound of Haz’s voice calling for her.

“I said I’d think on it and I will.”

“Talk it through with them - they’re old enough to understand and have an opinion, Y/N,” she hesitated before her grin widened into something sharper. “And tell Lando, I’m sure he’ll have plenty to say.”

“Don’t you have a date to get to?” Y/N laughed, not bothering to correct Tara’s words - her best friend knew exactly what was going on with Lando, and just liked to tease her about it. 

“I’m going, I’m going,” Tara put her hands up and turned away. “I’ll let Haz know you’re just showering.”

Y/N showered quickly and changed into some regular clothes before stuffing her kit into her sports bag and putting it over her shoulder. Haz was waiting outside, leaning against the wall opposite the door to the changing rom with her nose buried in a book.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Queenie,” Y/N said, smoothing her hand over her sister’s hair. 

“Took so long I had to turn to studying,” Haz huffed, but there was a tiny smile tugging at her lips.

Y/N laughed, leading her sister outside, where Lando had managed to get his hands on a football, and was kicking it back and forth with Tony. Y/N raised her eyebrows at the scene.

“Thinking of switching sport?” She teased.

Lando turned around, a beaming smile on his face.

“You were awesome!”

“It wan’t a match,” Y/N laughed, ignoring the fluttering of her heart.

“She’s also great in matches,” Tony inputted quietly, kicking the football over to Haz.

“Of course she is!”

“You could come to a match,” Haz offered eagerly, booting the ball over to Lando.

“I’d love to!” 

“If you hang around until next year you could come to the world cup,” Y/N joked.

“Have you been selected for the team?” Lando asked excitedly. “Is that what they wanted to talk to you about?”

“They floated team selection, like, a month ago. I think the Olympics means that I’m likely going to make the team - especially since Chelsea’s at the top of the league anyway,” Y/N dismissed. 

“Well I’ll certainly still be around next year so I’m definitely going to hold you to World Cup tickets,” Lando informed her. His words warmed her from the inside out. 

She hadn’t expected to hear from him again after Silverstone last year - after they had kissed and she had insisted it couldn’t go anywhere, she’d assumed he’d lose interest. But that hadn’t been the case - instead, the opposite had happened. 

He had made himself constantly available to her - he’d text her about his strangest thoughts, and would send her pictures from the Paddock of his fellow drivers for her to show to the twins. He’d call her to listen to her worries about her siblings - offering words of support or just an outlet for her constant fears, and always tried to assure her that she was doing a good job raising them. 

Lando had even invited the three of them to stay with him in Monaco over the twins’ half term during the football off-season. It had been a brilliant week - Lando had organised a packed itinerary for them all, and Y/N knew that the twins were still bragging about the trip to their school friends.

If she was being entirely honest, Y/N wasn’t sure what she would have done without his support over the past year.

She had tried to return the favour - if she saw he’d had a hard race, or seemed distant over his messages she’d do her best to cheer him up. Either through sending him pictures of the twins messing around, or by recalling a funny anecdote of her own, or just offering a free ear if he wanted to complain. 

And at some point over the last year or so, she had started to believe that he really was here to stay.

“Come on - lets get some food,” Y/N said, receiving the ball that Tony kicked towards her. She picked it up and chucked it back through the door that she had just come out of.

“Rabbit food?” Haz asked, scrunching her nose in distaste.

“Only for your sister and me, you two can get whatever you like - my treat,” Lando assured her, sharing an amused glance with Y/N.

“What do you feel like?” Y/N asked the twins. 

“Pasta?” Tony suggested immediately, as Y/N knew he would.

Later that evening, the four of them were walking back through the streets of London - the twins ahead of them each holding an ice cream as they chatted about something to do with their friends.

“Thank you for watching them, by the way - I’ve not really said that yet,” Y/N said, breaking the silence at last.

“Of course,” Lando snorted. “I’d remind you that they’re good kids, but I think they’re going to start objecting to that soon.”

“I’m not ready for them to go full teenager,” Y/N groaned at the reminder. 

“Think they’ll be like you were?” Lando asked curiously.

“God I hope not.”

“Why? Were you a troublemaker?” There was so much glee in the question that Y/N had to think for a second about how honestly to answer. She didn’t want to ruin this, she didn’t want to break the causal, cheerful atmosphere around them.

Then she looked over at Lando, who was staring at her expectantly and there was something so achingly soft in his expression that she knew for the first time that she wanted to tell him everything - anything that he wanted to know about her, anything that he was willing to ask, she was willing to share.

“More like the opposite,” Y/N admitted, going for a casual shrug, but knew the movement was more jerky than she was aiming for. “I was scared of causing trouble. I… didn’t want to give my parents any more excuse to be angry, you know?”

Lando stops walking, reaching out and carefully circling his fingers around her wrist to pull her to a stop as well. There’s open fear in his eyes and Y/N wants to reassure him, wants to hug him and promise that everything is okay.

“Did they hurt you?” He asked in a whisper. 

Y/N tried for a smile, but knew it came out as more of a grimace. She carefully moved her wrist so that their hands linked together instead, and she tugged on their now joined hands to get him to start moving again.

“They were bad parents,” she told him in lieu of a straight answer. Lando sucked in a breath, but when Y/N looked at him again, he just nodded - apparently deciding not to press further. “I want them to feel safe enough to be… nightmares, you know? Like I’m dreading them becoming teenagers, but I hope that they feel safe enough to cause trouble at all? Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, it does,” Lando confirmed quietly. “I meant to say, by the way - my mum wants to meet you.”

“She what?”

“Well - she was actually asking if there was anything she could do to help you out with the twins,” Lando clarified, “and then said I should bring you three for dinner some day,” and Y/N laughed. 

“You talking to your mum about me, Norris?”

“Is that such a surprise?”

Y/N had to look away in the hopes he wouldn’t see the embarrassment at how earnest he sounded. He chuckled lowly and squeezed her hand.

“Well that’s very kind of her.” She hesitated before adding: “And you.”

“Of course, Cap,” Lando said softly.

“Oh! That reminds me!”

“Yeah?”

“Guess who’s being considered for Captain?”

“At Chelsea?” Lando asked excitedly. Y/N beamed and nodded.

“I mean I’m not sure I’m actually going to accept and-“ Y/N began to ramble, before being cut off entirely.

Lando whooped and dropped her hand. But before she could mourn the loss of contact, his hands were on her hips and he was lifting her up to spin her around. A laugh bubbled up from her and she locked her hands around his neck, desperate for balance. He placed her back down carefully on the ground and they grinned at each other, the moment finally broken by the twins questions.

“You’re sure you're not together?” Haz asked.

“Has something happened?” 

Y/N saw a flash of pain in Lando’s eyes, and Y/N ached with want.

But rather than closing the gap between them further, she cleared her throat awkwardly and stepped out of the safe circle of his arms.

“Jude’s asked me to consider taking over as Captain,” she told them, forcing herself to keep her attention on them and not Lando. Trying to remind herself that remaining just friends was for the best.

2023 (Age 23)

“Is that the Captain of a world cup winning team I see?” Lando’s voice was loud even over the thumping of the music playing in the club. 

Lando was sitting back on a couch in the VIP section of the club - his legs were spread out beneath the table, and he was wearing a white shirt which was only half buttoned up. His eyes were slightly glassy, his hair was a mess, and one hand was clutching a glass that looked on the verge of being spilt.

There were some girls at the table too, one of them clearly vying for Lando’s attention - and Y/N had also recognised several of the other drivers on the grid as she had walked through the club in the search for her friend. Many of them had called out greetings and congratulations to her, recognising her now from the amount of time she had spent with Lando over the years.

The jolt of envy that ran through her from seeing the pretty girls around Lando was quickly extinguished with how her friend’s face had lit up in a bright grin at the sight of her and how he had immediately tried to stand up, knocking into the table in front of him.

Y/N snorted as Lando pushed at the people blocking his exit, and practically fell into her, narrowly avoiding spilling his drink down her back as he hugged her.

“Congratulations!”

“You've already said that,” Y/N reminded him, hugging him back tightly.

“Not in person! You didn’t come to the Paddock,” Lando pulled away with a pout.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N laughed. “Tara wanted to explore and I felt bad just leaving her.”

“She could’ve wanted to explore the Paddock,” Lando huffed, but it was short lived as he grabbed hold of her hand instead and began to pull her through the club.

“She came to the race today with me! Where are you taking me?” 

“To get a drink - you need to catch up!”

“Tara and I had a couple before we got here,” Y/N promised him, though allowed him to continue to lead her through the crowds. 

“Where is Tara? I wanted to say hello.”

“She immediately got waylaid,” Y/N admitted. “I’d be surprised if she makes another appearance tonight.”

“Really? Good for her!” 

“Jealous, Norris?”

Lando turned back to look at her, eyes crinkled with mischief.

“She’s not the footballer I’m interested in.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, but she just laughed at him.

“I never said - but you drove well today,” she said in an attempt to change the subject. She lent against the bar beside him as he ordered on her behalf.

“I didn’t win or anything,” Lando dismissed immediately.

“You still drove well,” Y/N shrugged. 

“You think?” Lando asked, his words more vulnerable than usual. 

“Of course I do,” Y/N responded.

Lando seemed to hesitate for a moment before drawing her into a tight hug again.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Y/N whispered. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy.”

“Don’t apologise! You’ve been killing it, Cap.”

“I know - I just wish…”

“Yeah… I know,” Lando agreed with a soft smile. “Missing the twins?”

“You have no idea,” Y/N groaned. “They were so mad when I told them they couldn’t come  to the Netherlands to see you. But they stopped complaining as much when I said they’d be staying with your parents.”

Lando took the two glasses being offered to him and handed one off to Y/N, before taking hold of her hand and pulling her back through the crowd towards the table.

“They’re would’ve been welcome,” Lando informed her, squeezing her hand.

“I know,” Y/N agreed, taking a sip of her drink. “But Tara’s been on at me to take some time for myself, you know?”

Lando focused back on her, eyebrows raised in surprise. Y/N squirmed with embarrassment at his considering gaze.

“I’m glad,” he said at last, his smile slowly creeping back across his face.

“Yeah?”

“Course - even if I do miss my personal fan club,” he teased.

“I can’t believe Haz finally changed allegiance,” Y/N groaned. 

“I can’t believe it was Oscar that made her,” Lando laughed. “You have no idea how betrayed I was when she told me.”

“She’d determined she’s going to be his race engineer one day,” Y/N confided. 

“She's wearing Papaya and that’s what’s important.”

“Tony’s always going to be rooting for you, Lan, don’t worry.”

“And every other weekend I get your undying support too, right?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N teased. “The twins are old enough that they want my support anymore - maybe I’ll start wearing red instead?”

Lando downed his drink.

“You want to say that again?”

Y/N bit her lip. She hesitated, then mimicked his action, grimacing a little at the strong aftertaste.

“I’m just saying - I think Charles Leclerc might be my favourite driver on the grid right now.”

“Charles Leclerc had a DNF today,” Lando said, his voice carefully measured.

“It happens to the best drivers,” Y/n shrugged, reaching behind Lando to place the empty cup on the table. Lando did the same, though kept his careful gaze on her.

“Bold words for someone who voiced their support for me on TV today,” Lando said.

“You saw that?” Y/N squeaked, unable to maintain the teasing in the face of the interview she had been drawn into earlier that day. 

Her and Tara had been approached where they had been watching the race, having been recognised from their recent win in Australia. They had just asked a few questions about that last match - some jokes about how they were celebrating the win by coming to the Dutch Grand Prix, and then asked who they would be supporting for the day.

Y/N had answered with Lando’s name without thinking, not really expecting that it would get back to her friend. 

“Of course I did,” Lando chuckled. “And, your brother texted me about it.”

“Little snitch!” 

“It’s called loyalty!” Lando exclaimed. “Which you also showed - so don’t try that shit about being a Ferrari fan!”

“I just don’t want you getting a big head,” Y/N told him. “I’m going to keep you humble right up until you get your World Championship - then I’ll let you start bragging."

“Until? Not if?”

“When you become World Champion,” Y/N confirmed. “Not if.”

Lando bit his lip, then grabbed both of her hands.

“What are you doing?”

“Come on - we’re going to dance!”

“No! No we’re not!” Y/N immediately argued, half-heartedly trying to pull away from him. Lando just tightened his grip, beaming at her and tugging her into the mass of moving bodies.

“Yes we are!”

“I’m going to need so many more drinks before I start dancing, Lan,” Y/N protested, even as she allowed herself to be pulled. She knew she’d do anything that he asked of her. Anything that would keep that smile on his face.

“That’s something I can manage.”

The next couple of hours passed in a blur - Lando hardly left her side all night, periodically dragging her to the bar for another round of drinks or shots, before pulling her back to the throng of people dancing. Occasionally they would be joined by someone else - Tara made a brief appearance before going home with the woman she had pulled when they first got to the club, and some of Lando’s fellow drivers and their girlfriends would join them every now and then. Once in a while, they would be tugged into a group photo, their fingers laced in most of them, and if that wasn’t the case, then Lando’s arm would be thrown over her shoulder to pull her into his chest.

But by the end of the night, it was just the two of them left.

Three in the morning, and Lando was once more tugging her by the hand to lead her out into the cool night air, having stopped to collect a jacket from the cloakroom along the way.

“Where about are you staying?” He asked, and his voice was hoarse from having been singing along to the songs all night. 

“I’ve got an Air BnB like… fifteen minutes away from here,” Y/N’s voice felt loud in the sudden quiet of the night, but the alcohol still in her system stopped her from caring too much. 

“Let me walk you back?” Lando sounded hopeful.

Y/N gave an over-dramatic sigh, just to hear him laugh again.

“I suppose I’ll allow it.”

They set off down the street, Y/N pulling out her phone to navigate. But she quickly got distracted by the messages on the home screen. The first of which was from Lando’s mum, who had sent her a picture of the twins helping out in the kitchen.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah - just your mum was sending me updates,” Y/N confirmed, angling her phone towards Lando so he could see the picture.

“She was so happy you asked if they could stay with her,” Lando said, swinging their still joined hands.

“She offered first!” Y/N said defensively.

“I know! I was being honest! She was so happy, Cap. She just wanted to help you,” Lando shot her a sly look. “Her and Tara would agree that you need to take some time for yourself.”

Y/N squeezed his hand.

“I’m trying.”

“I’m happy to wait,” Lando told her, answering what she didn’t say.

“I can’t… ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking me to do anything.”

“I don’t want you to have to wait, Lan.”

“Sometimes you look at me…” Lando trailed off and shook his head.

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he dismissed. “Are you cold? Do you want my jacket?”

He didn’t let her answer, dropping her hand so that he could instead wrap his jacket around her. Y/N allowed herself to be moved, but when Lando tried to walk on, she snagged her fingers in his shirt and he immediately stilled.

“Tell me.”

“Sometimes you look at me, and I think you’re talking yourself out of it. Like, the wait could be over, but you’re looking for excuses and telling yourself to hold off.”

“Lando-”

“And it’s okay, because I will wait,” he continued, staring at a point over her shoulder. He was still smiling, but it was sadder, more troubled than before. “Of course I will. Until you’ve convinced yourself I’m going to stay, or that I love your siblings as much as I love you-“

“Lan-“ Y/N’s eyes widened at that confession, her heart dropping.

  “And I don’t know, maybe I’m delusional, because I will wait. And being your friend is enough for me. Because I may have started wanting something casual when I first messaged you, but this is so much more to me now. You and the twins - you’re everything to me, Cap.”

“You love me?” Y/N managed to get out. 

When Lando at last met her eyes again, there was no denying the fondness in his expression, and he reached to smooth down some of her hair that had gotten messy in the club.

“How could I not?”

Maybe later, she would blame it on the night. On the atmosphere, of the amount that they’d had to drink, of the fact that she was still riding the high of her World Cup win. Or maybe how he was looking at her, the same way that he always looked at her, only this time she was letting herself see it, and letting herself believe him.

But she surged forwards, reaching up to pull his face down to hers, connecting their lips. Lando made a muffled noise of surprise, but responded quickly, pressing forwards immediately - his hands went to her cheeks to pull her closer, and his tongue swiped across her bottom lip, asking for access.

She opened her mouth for him, and felt one hand drop down to rest on her waist. She allowed her own fingers to tangle in his hair, clutching at the soft strands, desperate to hold onto him. She closed the last minute gap between them, stepping so that she was pressed up against the hard line of his body, and Lando sighed gently at that last piece of contact.

Then, he pulled away, his face dropping to rest in the crook of her neck, his lips pressing gentle kisses to the exposed skin there. Y/N continued to run her fingers through his hair, and she felt his lips turn up in a smile at the sensation.

“Tell me now,” he whispered.

“Tell you what?”

“That this is just another kiss we’re not going to talk about. Tell me now, straight-up so I’m not agonising over it later.”

“I don’t want to,” she admitted in a small voice.

“Yeah?” Lando asked, finally pulling away so that he could meet her eyes. Y/N gave him a wobbly smile.

“I love you too," she managed to get out. “For what it’s worth.”

Lando brushed another kiss against her lips, grinning.

“Everything. It’s worth everything,” then his smile dimmed, his eyes searching hers. “There’s a ‘but’ coming, isn’t there?”

“I can’t… put you first. You deserve someone who can,” Y/N said at last, idly playing with the hair at the back of his neck.

“That’s all?” Lando asked, smile brightening again. “Darling - that’s not news. You’re a sister first, I get that. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

He went to kiss her again, but Y/N ducked away.

“Lando, I’m being serious. I just… I don’t want you to be upset when I have to put them above you. Because they will…” she sighed. “They’re always going to be first to me. And I know that’s not fair to you, which is why-“

“I know,” Lando laughed. “I know that’s why you always pull away. I know they always come first. I know you’re worried about my relationship with them. I know you, Cap. I promise. I know all of it, and I still love you, I still want to be with you, okay?”

“Our dates are going to be crashed all the time,” Y/N warned him. “And I spend half my free-time teaching myself their homework to help them study. And the other half is spent ironing their uniforms.”

“I’ll spend our dates ironing happily.”

“That was not the take-away!” Y/N laughed. Lando kissed her forehead, still grinning.

“You’ve told me you loved me, the rest is just a bonus,” he joked.

“I’m trying to give you an out!”

“I know - I don’t want it,” he responded cheerfully, kissing her again.

“Tomorrow,” Y/N said decisively, pushing him away - not that there was much force behind it.

“What?”

“We’ll talk about it properly tomorrow, when we’re not drunk,” she insisted.

“Promise?” 

“You sound so eager,” she laughed, turning away and reaching for her pocket for her phone.

“I’ve been waiting for this for, like, two years. Since we met in person at least,” Lando promised her, immediately going to tangle their fingers together again.

“For a conversation?” She joked.

“For this conversation,” he agreed.

Y/N bit her lip to try and stop herself from smiling too wide. She would wait to see what sobriety brought, though her instincts were telling her that this was it. That nothing she would say when they woke up would dissuade him. And she was tired of pretending that she wasn’t in love with him, tired of pretending that she didn’t think that her and Lando were endgame.

[inuiiwonderland]

Empire

Being crowned as empress of the Yuunkaedangon empire at the age of 17, you begin to start loving the new status and power. But it soon gets a bit boring and demanding the moment you turned 18. Harem? Heirs? Tf not!

Chapter 6

Words: 1.5k

-

The room was silent as Atsushi stared at his previous emperor with wide terrified eyes.

“W-what? But that’s impossible!” He screeches. Hands shaking with fear and anger.

The previous emperor gulps the remaining of his wine down, he knew to take this conversation somewhere private, knowing how loud atsushi can get when he’s surprised or angry.

“B-but it can’t be! The young empress has been doing a good job with keeping peace between empires and enemies!”

“I know atsushi I know, I even had some of my men go under cover and investigate it. The only thing I know as of now is that they’re planning on assassinating one of my empress concubines”

“WHAT?!” Atsushi is sure he’s going to give himself whiplash by how fast he turned his neck around to stare at the old emperor.

assassination?!

“But why?! What has the young-“

“I’m afraid it’s not because of my empress….but because of me”

Atsushi looked at him confused. Because of him?

“What do you mean?” The Old man stays quiet. He pours himself another glass before continuing with a heavy sigh.

“Many years ago when I was young and married my wife, the previous empress…I have gone to the dark forest the night my wife fell sick”

Atsushi gasps. Finally remembering that night.

“The night the previous empress almost died….she was pregnant with the young empress” He utters. Of course, how could he forget that scary terrifying night? No one has ever talked about it since it happened.

“Yes….and I was scared….so so scared that I was going to lose both my wife and my child that night”

Atsushi stays quiet. Listening intently as the old emperor talks about that fateful night.

“A witch told me she knew exactly what I needed to give my wife her strength and health back…told me she knew about one magical plant that can help my wife and my child”

“But it came with a very large price….and being the foolish young man I was, I told her anything. Name a price and it’s all hers. I should’ve known something wasn’t right when she only requested 200 thaumarks.”

“She gave me an old map that led to the dark forest. She said that it was the only place where I could find it before she vanished. That same night I gathered up over 300 guards to come with me to look for the magical plant in the dark forest. I lost a few men that night due to the dangerous creatures that lurked in that forest, hell I almost died a few times too! But after long hours of searching I finally found it…. The sunset flower”

He takes a sip before continuing.

“It was the only flower left….and I took it. Once we arrived I made sure it was prepared immediately to be served to my wife. I took so long I almost lost her as she waited for my return. I didn’t waste a second before feeding it to her-” He looks up and his eyes were glossy with unshed tears.

“My wife got better, she was comfortable for the remaining days of her pregnancy before she blessed me with my beautiful daughter. Both my wife and daughter were strong and healthy”

“But little did I know, while I had my happy ending, someone out there didn’t”

-

The man stares down at the hole in the ground with gritted teeth and a heart broken expression. His fist trembled with anger as he let out both a choked out sob and scream of anger.

“NOOOOOOOOO”

He falls to the ground as he punches and tears the nearby plants down. Two men both at his side tried to help him up but he pushed them both away.

“NO NO NO THIS CANT BE!! SOMEONE STOLE IT SOMEONE STOLE IT!!” He screams as he then repeatedly starts punching the ground.

“Master-”

“Please-”

“She’s dying! My daughter oh my beautiful daughter is dying! This plant was our only hope!”

The two men gave their master a sad look. Knowing that now there’s nothing else they could do.

That night the man came home to heart wrenching news. His wife stands in front of him with puffy eyes and a loud sob.

Their daughter has passed

Due to the lost of her precious daughter, the mother couldn’t handle it anymore and soon died due to a broken heart.

The man was left to grieve not only his daughter's death but also his wife.

-

“The ruler of the dark forest lost two of the most precious things to him that same night”

“So he’s back with revenge?” He was scared for the old emperor answer, but once the man nods atsushi pales.

“So what now? The young empress isn’t aware of this right? We should tell her! She needs to know so she can prepare-” but he is soon cut off by a stern voice.

“No”

“W-what?”

“No. She can’t know, not yet at least!” Atsushi frowns. Confused and also upset.

“B-but…the young empress has the right to know. Especially if it concerns her concubines and her future heirs!”

But the old man ignores him. Atsushi stood there confused and helpless. If he can’t tell you then what should he do? What can he do to help you and the others to stay safe along with the empire?

-

It was getting dark, the festival was still going strong as the crowd gathered around for the fireworks. You separated from the rest of the group, saying you needed a bit of alone time and that you’ll meet them before the firework show starts.

You walked down a small path that leads to one of the many bridges your palace has. You look down at the pretty koi fishes swimming in the pond. You smile down at them and their pretty scales, admiring their patterns and beauty.

As you were busy admiring the fishes, you didn’t notice the unknown figure creeping up to you. A loud leaf crunch brought you back and you turned to see a young man.

A beautiful young man actually

He didn’t seem to notice you yet, but you took that time to admire him. Short white hair, sun kissed skin, he seems to be wearing traditional clothing along with some gold jewelry and makeup- sevens he looks beautiful.

His eyes soon met yours and you were met with a pair of red eyes. His eyes widened once he noticed you.

“Ah! Sorry I didn’t know someone was already here! I’ll just go-”

“No” He stops in his tracks, a bit startled by your words.

“Huh?” You realize how weird you sounded and quickly straighten up as you awkwardly invite him to stay.

“You…can stay” he stays still for a moment which causes you to grow nervous. Sevens what if he thinks you’re a weirdo?

You two stayed quiet. You go back to admiring the koi fish as he just stares at the sky. The silence was soon broken when he turned to you and asked for your name.

“Mm? My name?”

He nods. You smile at him before telling him who you were. You were startled by his loud voice after you told him your name.

“W-wait? Y/n?! As in the young empress?!” You nod and his jaw drops. He quickly composes himself before respectfully bowing.

“Sorry for not asking sooner, young empress!” You blinked at him before letting out a small giggle at his antics. Giggles soon turning to laughs as he continues to apologize and bow and you had to physically stop him.

“And you? What’s your name?” You asked once he was done.

“Ah right! My name is Kalim Al-Asim! Prince of the scalding sans!”

Oh

OH

“Ah so you’re Kalim!” He nods joyfully. You smile before bowing.

“It’s really nice to meet you, we haven’t really gotten the chance to talk at all today”

“It’s nice to meet you young empress! I heard a lot of good things about you from my father!”

“Really? I sure hope so” you joked and the two of you laughed. Kalim continues to talk about his day at the festival, how much he liked the food, how beautiful the imperial palace looks and how they also do lots of lavish parties back home too!

You liked Kalim. He was funny and bubbly, something you wouldn’t mind having in your harem.

Your moment was soon cut short as a voice calls out to Kalim.

“There you are! You had me and your parents worried-”

“Jamil! Look, come meet the young empress! She’s really nice” Jamil was soon then in front of you. He blinked a couple of times before quickly bowing and introducing himself.

And well wow

Is everyone from the scalding sans this gorgeous?

His long silky hair was in a ponytail along with some of his hair in braids. He was also wearing traditional clothing with a few gold accessories. His makeup wasn’t as bold as Kalim but it did get the job done with making his eyes stand out.

“It’s very nice to meet you young empress”

Mm

These two would make lovely concubines…

The two of them looked at each other confused at your sudden change. Both watching you as you looked at them up and down before a mischief-like smile graced your face.

“Young empress?”

“Kalim what did you do?!”

“She was fine just a few minutes ago!”

-

Taglist!

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@amellialunarie

@keikeiluvyou

-

What happens next? Is reader and their concubines going to be okay? Alsooo, new consorts?

[yan-randomfandom]

Heyyy I’m Cami I recently have become like OBSESSED w/ K-pop demon hunters 😔 🥀 I read the post u made abt the Saja Boys all like cuddling w/ the reader and I rlly liked it and how you wrote it.

I have a request uhm….can you do Baby Saja x Famous Solo Artist Reader? It’s not necessarily an ‘oc’ of mine but I have a little story that I need HELP with (if I ever post it on AO3 I’ll tag u or something so the readers know i got some ideas from you ❤️)

so basically my story is abt a world where there’s no demons or demon hunters, all K-pop artists have a ‘concept’ that they theme their career around (so like Huntrix would just be normal singers but they’d theme their mv’s and shows around being demon hunters. Same with Saja Boys, they’d be normal humans but they’d use sfx and makeup to do the whole demon thing). Reader is a 25 (or older idc the age doesn’t rlly matter as long as they’re over 21) year old musician who’s just more experienced then Saja Boys (like Reader started at like 16 ig) and Baby Saja has been a FANBOY since Reader debuted. I crave some dating hcs for BabySaja X (G/N) Solo K-pop artist ❤️

(The OG idea for the ‘concepts’ was from a C.ai bot….also sorry for how long this req is 😔)

Baby Saja x Solo!GN!Reader Headcanons

a/n; Hello Cami!! Thank you! And apologies for being late, I had to make up my mind for a Baby characterization o_O

— 🍼

I think I wondered a bit too much about the question, who the frick is Baby Saja? It's a free world and it's ultimately gonna be based on your preferences — but here's my version of the guy ୧⁠|⁠ ͡⁠ᵔ⁠ ⁠﹏⁠ ͡⁠ᵔ⁠ ⁠|⁠୨

For Cami — also the concept sounds promising, like the whole 'demon' and 'hunter' thing being absent gives a lotta space for you to write around the cast (it's actually so hard sometimes)!! I love the whole theme going on, heck yeah!! I'd love to be tagged, or not, no pressure really ! Good luck in your fic 💞

I'm gonna go off some canons and headcanons, you can handle the rest 😭✊

Nonchalant, my guy looks like a idgaf-er

Okay, for your concept in particular, HE'S A FAKE!!! THAT'S A FAKE IDGAF-ER!!! HE CARES A LOT!!!! [has been a fanboy4lifer] He tries to keep his cool at all times — but when it really comes down to it, I imagine his face will just go blank. And just. Stare at you, maybe? You have to try and figure what's wrong with him? But if you genuinely can't, then he'll just tell you. Eventually.

He talks slow and casual. Like he has all the time in the world—a very good pair with his deep voice! Only through his raps does he speed up his voice 🫡

His voice is one of the most important things in your relationship (in his view at least, prbly) — it connects you and him deeper into the musical world. He knows your voice like the back of his hand, and he'd really like it if you felt the same for him. I reckon at the start of the relationship, or middle actually, he'll push himself to be a little more chatty.

Must have a liking for physical touch. Baby gets a piggyback ride on-screen

Expect a lot of casual touches. You gotta do the same for him, of course — a pat on the head, a hand on shoulder, combing fingers through hair, resting heads against each other — he loves it. Also, even if you can't carry him, he'll always manage to find his way on your back. Never better for an attempt of a piggyback.

Cuddles every night. No objections.

Always keeps his mouth busy? Likes to eat food?

This concept can go in lots of directions, so I'll keep it shoooort. You're the one who noticed. Apparently, he didn't even notice. (might be ooc but its fun haha) This is why whenever you go grocery shopping, you make sure to grab some suckers like lollipops or something.

Bullet form for the rest of the HCs :P

Confident. Might be a little too confident sometimes.

When he sees you backstage or something, he'll always throw a heart hand gesture at you 🫶

Sensitive to noise, maybe? You make sure he's most comfortable, which he seriouslyyy appreciates.

The kind of fanboy who records an ultra HD 4K fancam of you. YEAH!!!!!!!!

Lets you wear his caps and fuzzy sweaters. (Please.)

Tremendously nervous when he's recording a session with you... but it's okay, he's slick with it, like nothing's going on inside his head at all .

I feel like when he first meets you, he's going to try so hard to be like "I'm not like other fans" and act so chill with you, but he's really, truly, freaking out.

— NOW THAT'S ALL I GOOOTTT

[elainsgirl]

Some lucien stans are just as annoying as gwyn stans atp. I saw a video where this grown woman said that she wanted to punch elain in the face for being mean to lucien and all the comments were agreeing with her. I’m sorry - but when was elain ever mean to him? All she ever does is show lucien disinterest and apathy. You’d think she stabbed him, buried him alive, and danced on his grave from all the comments that were basically victimizing poor lucien (a hundreds year old man) and vilifying elain (a twenty something year old woman).

I think we’re forgetting that lucien was mean to feyre basically the enter ACOTAR book (which people justify because feyre killed andras as if andras wasn’t literally sent out to be killed). Lucien stood by and did nothing when feyre (who in case people forget is elains sister) was abused. Yes, we can say lucien was abused as well. It doesn’t erase the fact continued to stand by tamlin as he abused feyre and helped in the kidnapping of feyre’s sisters. Lucien did nothing as elain was thrown in the cauldron.

I just don’t get why he is stripped of all accountability for his inaction when elain is bashed just for being indifferent??

Then these people go on to say azriel just sees elain as an object and wants to possess her as if lucien this pro feminist icon when he has shown that he’s sexist. When feyre told him she was unhappy with Tamlin because she has no purpose, he told her “Isn’t that what all human women wish for? A handsome faerie lord to wed and shower them with riches for the rest of their lives?” But yeah, lucien would definitely treat elain better than azriel lol.

I’ll always defend the Archeron sisters, especially considering that they’re in their twenties surrounded by beings who are hundreds of years old. Nesta, elain, and Feyre have made mistakes - but they are hated for it relentlessly by a fandom mostly consisting of women. I’ll never buy into the propaganda that these three twenty-something women are awful bullies victimizing grown man more than five times their age. I’m sorry - I’m just not buying it.

Ahh, seems like you’ve encountered a group of elucien boy moms. They love Lucien so much (god knows why) that no one will ever be good for him in their eyes. They only settle for Elain because she’s his mate and God forbid Lucien goes through anything else like a mate rejection, that might actually give them heart attacks. Its why they want Elain to grovel for Lucien, get jealous over him, realise she fumbled him etc. They want Elain to put Lucien on a pedestal just like they do and hate her for not doing so. Hate her for not immediately wanting the man who - in her own words - betrayed them. A man whose done nothing for her, he’s a stranger to Elain. He doesn’t know her. He stays away because Lucien himself cant stand being around and it’s literally not his choice. Elain ignores his existence, him staying away is the bare minimum but they’ll never acknowledge it. Funny, because Mass has never shown Lucien to be the better love interest for Elain. Eluciens have just convinced themselves through their own HCs that he is.

It’s disgusting in my opinion to even say Elain has been mean towards Lucien. She owes him nothing, not even politeness yet she still acts cordial around him. Accepts his gifts though she doesn’t want them. Elain has made it more then clear she doesn’t want Lucien, he understands that. His obsessed stans dont. Instead of acknowledging her discomfort around Lucien - they love acting as though she is secretly attracted to him which btw…can we just take a moment to realise how horrible and misogynistic that is? I can never get behind elucien because the ship itself is anti elain and im tired of pretending its not. You’re shipping elain w man she doesn’t want, hating her for it and then creating assumptions which strip away Elains feelings to replace them with how eluciens feel about Lucien. Its so weird.

The fandom says Elain is babied but honestly? At least she acknowledges how she failed Feyre and made sure to help ever since then. Want to know who is actually babied? Lucien Vanserra

”Lucien will treat Elain better!” The same man whose living in Graysons - the same ex who broke her heart - manor and just calls him a “fine prick”. The one who couldn’t figure out what was amiss with elain? Who brought elain the most basic gifts ever? Whose living with another woman who he had a spark in his eyes for? Lmfao sure.

Its crazy the standards this fandom holds the sisters too whilst excusing the actions of the male characters. The sisters are 20s. They’re allowed to mistakes and learn - but this fandom crucifies them for it wheras decades old men are allowed to get away with whatever. For a series about female empowerment- this fandom is so misogynistic. The sisters will always deserve better. Any one w working brain cells arent buying this bs either

[lunarharp]

played dragon age 2...just simple scribbles

[vaguely-concerned]

I've been picking mostly only the essential flirt options with lucanis in the romance so far (I've personally found the dynamic much more natural and mutual when you do that, more like forming a solid friendship slowly and inevitably becoming something else and less like you keep pushing on him and getting little back b/c he seemingly just gets overwhelmed and goes into freeze instead), and I think rye is a pretty hard person to read at the best of times even though he's been Down Real Bad from pretty early on and their chemistry as people is naturally really good. so the way the almost-kiss plays out in this playthrough feels a lot like it has the added layer of lucanis realizing that no but for sure rook is flirting and not just being kind or a good friend* it IS actually happening it's not just wishful/fearful thinking!!! and then uh. maybe going a bit too hard a bit too fast in all the excitement at that revelation haha

*in lucanis' defense he has seemingly literally never had a friend who wasn't his cousin-brother before, under those circumstances I suppose some confusion is extremely natural if not outright expected lmao

[shannonsketches]

something something foils moving in opposite directions Goku's always happy to seek and fight stronger opponents because he spent most of his life being the strongest guy in the room and Vegeta wants to be the strongest/is always exhausted to find stronger opponents because he spent most of his life having to navigate his survival around the whims of the strongest guy in the universe room and so Goku has a foundation of safety and stability and so spends his time craving challenge and adventure and Vegeta has a foundation of challenge and adventure and spends his time craving safety and stability and the overlaid section of their venn diagram is that the only way they know how acquire and maintain those things is through battle

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

oh my god oh my god oh my GODDDDDD i can’t BELIEVE i found these on my little rainy october thrift shop wander this morning. like, one would have been more MORE enough. but both?? at once??? i am quite simply floating and may never touch back down to earth

[drawbudd]

LOVE WINS???

[rivilu]

disjointed fandom posting sorry but it just hit me that pwotr is like. the only rpg where a companion never once left my team

[kittlyns]

A hard pill for me to swallow lately has been that, despite everything, I'm probably the best version of myself that could've existed. And that's not really a comforting thought.

[lizardho]

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about some of the people I interact with. I have a coworker who I am pretty sure is a MAGA type, and she is also a lovely woman who is dreadfully overworked and so good at connecting to patients when they call. I can see the conflict on her face when she talks to me, a gigantic tranny dork who speaks Spanish and affirms the LGBT community, but can also talk to her about her cows and knows about guns and stuff. I can see the fear in the eyes of my former Young Men’s leader when he misgenders me and realizes that I’m not an ideology but a person he has known for a long time. I can see the way my extended family stop and stutter over political discussions when they realize they are talking about me. And I don’t know why but lately it’s just made me think about my neighbor as a kid.

When we moved to Arizona, we moved next door to a lovely retired couple - John and Lucy. John was a veteran of WWII, he had an M.D. and a Ph.D. in radiology, and he LOVED us to pieces. His wife, Lucy, was a sharp and gifted woman - well spoken, very observant, and VERY clever. I just know that she used that cleverness as a mom to great effect, because with my and my siblings she always managed to find a way to send us home with candy and treats for a week despite my dad’s protests. We loved them, growing up, and even though they have long-since passed away I love them still, and I love what I learned from them.

John was, as stated, a WWII veteran. He was enlisted as a rifleman, and later as a front line medic, starting at Point Du Hoc and moving inwards to France and towards the Rhine. He let me do a report on him in 6th grade where he shared war stories with me he had kept to himself his whole life - he said it was out of respect for his friends who didn’t get to come home and tell their stories.

He said he told me because he knew I could respect the memories of his friends.

He showed me his collection of medals, and which he’d kept hidden away in a sock in his attic because he’d feel an immense grief any time he saw them. He had wanted to be a doctor his whole life, prior to being drafted he was studying medicine and had taken the Hippocratic oath to Do No Harm. He saw his medals as a reminder that he had Done Harm.

After telling me his stories he was able to convince himself that while he had Done Harm, it was only because his only other alternative was, to him, cowardice. He chose to be brave even if it meant acting against his Oath because he felt that if he didn’t do it someone else would have to go in his place and he would be responsible for the harm that befell them. I don’t think that’s true, but for him it was and that was something no being on earth could have ever dissuaded him from believing.

He shared wild stories - melee combat on the beach, clearing artillery bunkers, receiving a Purple Heart for being injured in hand-to-hand combat with a Wehrmacht rifleman he said he felt pity for because they were the same age and he had to imagine the man he was fighting had been drafted just like him.

He shared how he was awarded a Silver Star for charging a machine gun nest, but shared that he was most proud of not killing anyone in the process. He threw a grenade with the pin still in it and when the machine gunners jumped to avoid being blown up they were killed by someone else so he didn’t have to do it. He took the machine gun and shot the other machine gun in that French field to pieces so he didn’t have to kill the people operating it. He said they were giving out Silver Stars like candy but I knew he was being modest.

He told me about being redesignated as a medic, about how he crawled for about 500 yards on his belly to rescue an injured tank driver, then threw him over his back and crawled the same 500 yards back (1000 yards total) to treat his injuries. He said he met the man in an Army hospital in England after his spine was broken by a high explosive panzer shell was fired through a hollowed out French farmhouse and landed about 20 feet away from him.

He told me about all the people he helped and saved as a medic, he told me about his work in radiology and research after the war. He showed me a hallway that was quite literally wallpapered with academic honors he’d earned as a researcher. He told me about how his first Fourth of July back was a horror show for him because fireworks and German artillery make very similar sounds. He told me about how he woke up in a cold sweat well over half a century later hearing the screams of German artillery men being burned alive with flamethrowers, or hearing his own voice apologizing to the young German soldier he stabbed in the heart at Point Du Hoc.

He told me that when he was asked to present at a medical conference in Germany 25 years after the war ended that he was so scared he couldn’t step off the plane, and that his wife had to hold his hand and lead/pull him with her. He said he was not scared because he was worried about being triggered, but because he knew that someone somewhere outside of that plane had the course of their life irreparably altered by his military service. That to someone out there he was the cause of immense suffering and harm. That some unwitting waiter could be the son of the Nazi Officer he stabbed in the heart with a 12-inch hunting knife. That some woman asking questions in the audience would be the daughter or widow of a man he sent to judgement with a .30-06. He was scared that they would hate him.

He knew what the Nazi’s had done, he knew better than anyone I’d ever met. He’d watched the documentaries, he’s seen the PoWs returning from camps, he’d seen the civilians massacred and tortured by their regime, but he also knew that among the monsters were people like him - idealistic 20-somethings who only wanted to make the world better and were ripped away from that life by the Nazi war machine. And he spent his whole life mourning the loss of innocence and peace that was forced on so many people by such a corrupt power.

To be honest I don’t know if I could do that, but he could. He told me he could still feel the dead and lost with him, both when he slept and when he woke. He told me he thought he’d go to his grave never having told a word of this to anyone. That the stories of him and his friends and allies would disappear silently with him and those like him. That he had wanted that until he realized that he didn’t have to sell out to share the stories - that he could give the stories away for free to someone who would love the people in them, and not just the content of them. He didn’t want his stories to be used as Patriotic Pornography by some TV network or magazine. He wanted the people he knew to be respected, he wanted their memories to be honored and loved, and he entrusted me, a 12-year-old “boy” to do that.

He told me for years afterwards that after telling me these stories that he slept better than he ever had. That by sharing the stories with someone who could hear Him over the din of victory and glory and honor and revisionistic history. Someone who could see the man in the story and not just see the plot of a battle being won. He wanted to be human, and he wanted the people he saw die to be human too - everyone, not just the people on his side. He wanted someone to see and to know the anguish of having to look someone in the eye as heartblood muddies the ground beneath them and hope that they understand that this was not an act of love or hatred but an act of desperation. To hope that you had just taken out One Of The Bad Ones instead of a medical student or a poet who had been drafted. He wanted me to see how hard he had worked since then to build a world without scarcity, to build a world of peace. He wanted me to know SO badly that the cost of violence, any violence, even necessary violence, is always ALWAYS paid by both parties involved.

I think about the rise of the new right wing - the new Nazi movement’s traction in politics, and I feel sad and scared - the world that Johnathan J Yobaggy, my neighbor, my friend, and my hero, worked SO hard to build is being done away with by people who do not understand the cost of the path they are entering. I can see brief moments of recognition in the eyes of some of the people I mentioned - The former young men’s president who immediately regrets misgendering me and hen he makes eye contact with me and sees Me staring back at him and not a faceless “ideology.” I can hear it in the voice of my uncle who quietly comes up to me to apologize for some homophobic comment he made absentmindedly. I can see it in the eyes of racists and sexists being interviewed on TV when they realize that they didn’t vote for a concept, they voted for a real thing. And honestly, I have mixed emotions about it. Because while I understand frustration with the status quo, the importance of basic human needs like affordable good and rent, and I know the fear that comes with feeling powerless, I also can’t help but grieve the endless wheel of history bringing us back to this God Damned Fucking Place again. I hope we can avoid this fate, not just for our sake but for the sake of everyone who has ever tried to make the world safer. For everyone who has ever tried to make up for human nature, for everyone who has ever placed themselves on the offering plate to protect others from the cruelty they know lies just under the surface of mankind’s tenuous grip on progress. I want SO badly for there to be a solution to this, for the people who idolize the Nazi party and the impact of fascism to see that the price of this path is paid in more than just blood but in soul. That they’re allowing themselves to be devoured too. I want for the centrists and the fence sitters and the idealists who want to “change it from the inside” to see how dangerous our politics have become. I want them to see that they’re losing the things that make them great in exchange for a security blanket that’s now become far far far too small to ever work for them again.

Safety found in the past is already gone, and safety found in the future is only as real as a daydream. That any ideology that promises that by “joining us now we’ll make things rough so we can make things safe in a decade” is a promise made by those who will not have to fight the battles they send you to.

I don’t know if America was ever really great, but as long as John was alive it felt great to me. There is no ideology that can replace a neighbor. No tax plan that can replace a friend. No grocery bill that can replace community and connection. No amount of budget cuts that can replace kindness. No amount of suffering from people I hate that will ever make more love. I don’t know how to make America great, but I know how to make my America great and it is not by selling out integrity and compassion and community and fucking humanity to make eggs and gas cheaper. It is by seeing and hearing the people around me. I’m not Mormon anymore, but I still know the value of mourning with those that mourn and comforting those that stand in need of comfort. I’m not Christian anymore but I still have Eyes That Can See and Ears That Can Hear. I want to make this all stop but I can’t stop the collective power of tens of millions of people so instead I listen to my MAGA coworker tell me about how sick her kid was last week. I make jokes with my Young Men’s leader. I hug my uncle. I let them see me fully, as a human and not an ideology. As a woman and not the concept of gender. As a whole person and not someone who can be easily summarized or boiled down into something short and quippy. And I let them know I can see them fully too, and I can see all their humanity as easily as they can see mine. I just have to hope that this works - that enough people can See and Hear the people in their lives who matter to them to bring them out of their personal world of forms and into the real world.

I am probably, honestly, just spiraling a little bit. I took my ADHD meds today and in addition to helping me focus they make me a little anxious so I doubt things are as bad right now as they seem. But just in case there’s any truth to the way things seem to be going, remember, and I mean this seriously: Be kinder to each other, be gayer, and read more Terry Pratchett.

And for the love of god day hello to your neighbor.

[tobeholyistobeempty]

you’re drunk - simon ghost riley

part two. find part one here.

“y’think i haven’t been losin sleep over you?” he continues, dragging his mouth along your jaw. “think i didn’t cum with your name in my mouth last night, after you begged so nice n pretty f’me to fuck y’senseless?”

sober you is a lot less bold, but simon is a man of his word. 18+. insane amount of dirty talk, reader afab, PIV. smut smut smut smut. size kink.

——————-

the headache you wake with is devastating.

biblically so.

and not in the sunday service, water‑into‑wine sort of way. this is old‑testament vengeance. locusts and brimstone and a hammer slamming the earth between your temples. divine retribution for every godless thing you said, every blurred line you crossed - like some higher power watched you drink yourself stupid last night and said let there be suffering.

and fuck, suffering you are.

you’re barely coherent, hardly sentient, when you squint into the cold morning light and find the realization of what happened last night dawning in on you in fragments. out of order, scrambled like eggs - simon’s arm around your waist. you calling him big. military‑issued. ruin‑her‑life‑in‑a‑single‑night kind of hands. been into you for ages. god yes. please. y’don’t know what you’re askin for, sweet’eart. the way he said you’re makin me hard like it physically pained him.

practically moaning into his motherfucking palm.

wait - practically? no. you did.

you spend majority of the morning with your head buried under blankets and pillows mourning the death of your past self because you know your soul must be charred. burnt like the edges of hell where your feet are now firmly planted.

“you, wakin up with my dog tags round your neck and nothin else.”

fuck sakes.

you’ve known hangovers, you’ve known embarrassment, but this - this is some divine hybrid of the two. a cocktail of humiliation and mortification laced with whatever residual high you’re still riding from him saying come say it t’me sober like a goddamn dare.

and of course it only gets worse when you finally make it to your feet - teeth brushed twice after two whole water bottles and a shower hot enough to burn the devil out of hell - and notice something silver glinting on the table by your door that most definitely wasn’t there yesterday morning.

“oh…god.” your heart flips up into your throat.

his dog tags.

you’ve known simon long enough to know what this is. he didn’t forget them. he didn’t misplace them. he left them there to tell you he heard every fuckin word you said and he’s not letting you off the hook for it. it’s a test. if you meant it - which you did - you’ll bring them to him. you’ll say it to him sober like he asked.

a man of morals. who knew war criminals had it in them.

you spend what has to be a full ten minutes just staring at them - like maybe you’re still drunk, maybe you’re seeing things and they’ll vanish if you focus hard enough. maybe you can unsay every devastatingly honest thing you said with sheer mental fortitude alone and they’ll magically fly back to him on their own.

spoiler alert: they don’t move. because of course they don’t. and it takes another ten before you finally stuff them into your pocket.

it’s probably best to just rip the bandaid off. bring them to him before you have to face him infront of the others in mess or briefing - damage control before the rest of the world finds out about the stunt you pulled. you don’t even know what you’re going to say - sorry? thanks? let’s just pretend i never told you i fantasize about fucking you when i can’t sleep?

fuck. it doesn’t matter. you know you owe him the return. a peace offering, a penance, a silent white-flag kind of knock on his door.

and so you walk the hall like it’s the green mile. you’ve never done a walk of shame but you imagine this has got to be as close as it comes. his door is shut when you reach it, and you stand in front of it like a coward for another unnecessary amount of time - complexion almost ill. ghostly. like you could float right through the fuckin wood if the wind blew hard enough.

finally, you knock.

it’s a moment, and then he answers, filling his doorframe with those thick shoulders stretching a tight black t-shirt, looking right as rain besides damp hair and bloodshot eyes.

you wonder, fleetingly, if he even slept. but then his gaze drops over the length of you and you busy yourself with fighting the urge to run for your fucking life.

you clear your throat. “can i..uh. can we talk?”

he nods and pops the door open, gesturing for you to come in. you take a few steps into his room - dark, organized, rather sparse - and nearly jump out of your flesh when the door shuts behind you. the click of a cell door closing, announcing your sealed fate.

you spin to face him once his boots have stopped dragging across the tiles, and find him leaning back against his desk - ankles and arms crossed.

you swallow, and pull the tags from your pocket. “i um. i think you forgot these.”

his brow twitches, barely, as he takes a glance at your hand. a flash of something behind his eyes you can’t name.

“did i?” he doesn’t move.

you shift your weight. the mortification could eat you alive. you’re certain it currently is.

“figured i’d bring them back.” you add, quieter now, trying your fucking hardest to sound normal. like you didn’t just spend the night saying all kinds of unholy things into the palm of his hand. “incase…uh, you were looking for them.”

he still doesn’t take them.

“strange,” his lips tilt. the first sign he’s shown that he's enjoying this. “coulda sworn i left em’ somewhere on purpose.”

your stomach flips. you try to laugh but it’s brittle. “right. sure.”

he shrugs. “not the kinda thing i usually misplace.”

you bite the inside of your cheek so hard you think it might bleed, unsure how to respond to that. it’s hard to even breathe with the way he’s watching you - like he’s taking notes - reading everything you’re not saying in the line of your mouth, in the way your fingers tremble around the chain of his tags.

“shaky this mornin, yeah?” he says, just casually knocking the rest of the wind out of your chest.

“i-“

you falter, because what the fuck are you even supposed to say? no, i’m fine. i’m totally good, actually. i definitely didn’t spend all morning curled fetal, praying to gods who’ve certainly damned me for a head injury so i can forget the mental car crash that was last nights events.

simon waits, eyes blazing like you’re a twitchy little experiment. trying to see which wire makes you spark the hardest.

you clear your throat. try again. “m’just tired.”

���mm.” he hums with a lazy nod. “musta been all that talkin you were doin.”

and there it is. here it comes.

“can’t really remember, but i’m sure it’s part of it.” you lie with a forced laugh. lie so awkwardly it hurts. “tequila. you know how it is.”

“do i ever.” he replies, dragging a hand through his damp hair.

silence stretches thick, after that. it’s so thick it makes the walls feel closer, the floor feel further away. you avert your gaze, and realize almost immediately how big of a mistake that is because the motion pulls your eyes across his forearm - his bare, inked forearm, tendons flexing with the movement he’s making.

you remember that arm last night, wrapped tight around your waist. pulling you close before you moaned god yes and please beneath the big hand attached to it like fucking gospel.

when you flinch, he smirks. not even pretending like he didn’t notice. “y’remember nothin from last night, then?”

your eyes snap up to his. you hate yourself for the fact that all of last nights confidence seems to be no where in fucking sight.

“well, uh, it’s fuzzy but…i remember bits.”

“bits.” he echos. nodding. “yeah. must be a shame.”

oh god.

“shame?”

“shame t’forget all that detail.” he lets the words sink in, watching your face as he leans a hand on the desk behind him. “pretty interestin things. real deep. could write a bloody novel, the way y’were goin on.”

“oh.” you choke, again, and mentally slap yourself. get it together. “well. thats-“

he hums again. “suppose i could walk y’through it.”

“walk me-“

earth tilts. he doesn’t let you finish. “y’know. help piece it together. fill in the gaps.”

“you don’t-you don’t have to-“

he lifts a hand to gesture vaguely toward his bed. your pulse races to the moon.

“your room, y’were right there. lookin at me like i was gonna eat y’alive.” his voice lowers. you swallow and it tastes like sin. his finger shifts to the space before his bed. pointing at the edge. “and i was right there, tryin’ like hell t’be a fuckin gentleman.”

you could laugh, maybe cry, or just absolutely combust right there on the floor because it all floods back in an instant. the way you moaned his name when he knelt over you to undo your boots. the way your thighs tensed as you told him you think about him. the way you stared at him while your brain short circuited and your mouth betrayed every secret you thought you’d die with.

part of you did die, you suppose. the part with your dignity. right there on the floor of your room, next to your boots he took off.

“look, simon-“

he steps closer now. just a step. “y’said you’d been into me for ages.”

you blink, holding your breath.

“said y’think bout me when y’cant sleep.” his voice is a rasp now, the muscle in his jaw ticks. “i asked y’a question, then. d’you remember it?”

fucking hell.

“yes.” you exhale.

“what was it.”

your heart is a jackhammer, breaking through your sternum.

“you-you asked if i think about you when…” you hesitate, and he cocks an eyebrow. “…when i touch myself.”

“yeah.” he says lowly. a breath, not a word. “tha’s right.”

your skin is burning and your limbs feel foreign, at this point. you feel nerve endings pulsing in place you didn’t know you even had nerves.

“d’you remember your answer?” he continues, taking another step toward you.

and it’s then that the anxiety takes over - you blink twice and bite down until you taste blood, shaking your head no. not because you’ve forgotten - fucking hell you remember everything - but because saying it out loud feels like jumping out of a plane without a parachute.

he doesn’t buy it.

“mm, sure y’do.” he calls your bluff, says it so soft it’s almost a coo. “y’know i know your tells - two blinks while bitin the inside of your cheek.” his eyes gleam as his lips twitch. “y’can’t lie t’me, princess.”

christ, you can’t help but laugh at that. it’s exactly the reason why you’ve been into him - he’s perceptive and cunning and cocky all at once.

this is the man you’ve thought about fucking for months.

“yes.” you whisper in admittance. “i said yes.”

“god yes.” he corrects with another step until he’s so close you have to kink your neck back to meet his eyes. his shoulders swallow the edges of your vision until all you see is him. “…still true?”

you nod. a broken thing. “yes.”

“yeah?” his head tilts, the heat of him sweltering. “y’think bout me when y’put hands on yourself?”

“simon-“

he hushes you with a shake of his head, eyes dipping to your lips. “tell me.”

it’s then that you realize dragging this on is for nothing. whatever drunken confession you made last night clearly cracked open whatever restraint simon’s been exercising for months.

clearly whatever you feel, he’s feeling it too.

“yes.” you confess, as firm as you possibly can. nothing coy in it now. “yes, i think about you when im alone. when i touch myself…doesn’t even feel right unless im picturing you. your hands. touching me.”

it all comes out of you in a rushed whisper, desperate and dripping sweet from your lips like it’s been saturating behind your teeth for too long. when he doesn’t respond right away, you realize you’ve stunned him, and pull on whatever courage you have left to press forward.

“i’ve wanted you for so long ive stopped tryin to figure out when it started.” you murmur, lost in his eyes. “and you?”

his breath catches. just the faintest hitch, like he wasn’t prepared for the edge of your honesty to turn and face him instead. it’s delectable, the slight composure tilt, but it doesn’t last long. because slowly - slowly, his mouth curls into something wrecked. something that says fuckin hell, it’s on.

his knuckles come up to graze your jaw, he lowers his head until his lips find your ear—

“y’askin if i think bout you when i’ve got my fist wrapped round my cock?” you inhale sharply, then choke on it when his mouth brushes your lobe. “course i fuckin do.”

your hands lift timidly to find his shirt, curling into it, dog tags still clinking between your fingers.

“y’think i haven’t been losin sleep over you?” he continues, dragging his mouth along your jaw. “think i didn’t cum with your name in my mouth last night, after you begged so nice n pretty f’me to fuck y’senseless?”

your lashes flutter. his free hand slips around your waist. “fuck, simon-“

“i know, sweet’eart.” he murmurs it, almost gentle, like it’s something you share. “tha’s what y’need, ain’t it? f’me to admit you’re not the only one losin mind here.”

you nod, partly frantic and partly delirious, and he exhales something strained - something from somewhere deep, catching on the parts of him dying to stay patient.

“good.” his hand slides up the back of your shirt, while the other finds the one of yours still holding his tags. “y’really come here just to return these, then?”

“no.” it chokes out of you instantly, mouth tilting toward his. “you wanted me to say it to you sober. made a promise bout what you’d do if i did?”

something feral flashes over his face, at that. translated through the grip he tightens on your waist, the exhale he washes over your jaw.

“yeah.” he says, tight. “i did.”

his mouth is barely a breath from yours.

“well here i am. sober.” you whisper. “wanting you more than i did while drunk.”

he makes a sound you’ve never heard before. not a groan, not a moan, something deep and feral punched straight out of his chest.

“fuckin hell.”

and then he’s kissing you.

no more waiting, no more games. simon’s a man of his word and it shows in the way his mouth crashes into yours - hungry and bruising and impatient - teeth knocking, one hand fisting in the back of your shirt and tearing it off you while the other pulls you in. he spins you both so your ass hits the edge of his desk, and then breaks away - trailing spit slick lips down your jaw and throat, thick fingers working to tease the band of your sweats.

“tell me where y’want me, sweet’eart.” he growls into your pulse.

you blink, dazed. “i-what?”

his teeth graze just enough to make you whimper, before his mouth drags back up beside your ear - ruinous in the inflection.

“tell me how you’ve imagined it,” his finger tips slide under your waistband, just teasing. “what you’ve pictured when you’re thinkin’ of me like this. right ‘ere.”

“oh god, simon.” you moan by his words alone, too wound to be embarrassed, fingers cinched tight in the fabric of his shirt. “your-your fingers. your mouth. your cock-“

that sound again. deep and devastated. restraint being ripped out by the roots.

“fuck. filthy thing f’me, aren’t you?” he says, as two fingers slide lower, slipping under heat soaked fabric and finding your slit, pressing in no further than they need to before circling back up - spreading the mess you’ve made just to feel it. “you’re fuckin soaked.”

you whimper as he teases your clit. his mouth finds your throat again, teeth grazing where your pulse stutters wild beneath flushed skin. you don’t trust your legs to hold you upright under the weight of it all - his touch, his voice, the feral gleam in his eye when he looks at you like you’re some prophecy being fulfilled.

“s’this what i do t’you?” he murmurs. “just from talkin t’you like this?”

you nod, a frantic little thing. “yes-god, yes.”

he exhales hard like it's kicked out of him, tugging your sweats down until they slide off your ankles before he lifts you back onto his desk and parts your thighs with hands so big they nearly span the entire width of them.

you fucking moan at the sight.

and of course it only fuels him - braces you back on your elbows, spine arched, breath caught in your throat as he steps in close between your legs. his eyes drag down to where you glisten in the dim light - slick, flushed, waiting - and he lets out a curse before returning his fingers to your aching cunt.

he presses in one digit slow, then adds another. knuckle deep until your eyes roll, hips jerking at the stretch.

“oh, fuck-“

he hisses through his teeth. “tight little cunt. fuckin meltin f’me.”

his thumb catches your clit in the same motion - rubbing soft circles, pushing you closer, dragging you toward the edge with every brutal curl of his fingers inside you.

“that feel good?” he growls against your jaw. “touched y’self in bed thinkin bout me between your thighs like this?”

you’re panting now. shaking.

“i-“ you gasp. “yes, simon-yes-“

“yeah?” his thumb speeds up, his fingers pump deeper, your head spins. “and did y’cum like this? like you’re about to f’me now?”

you don’t answer fast enough. he bites at your jaw.

“tell me.”

“no-n-never like this—”

he growls something vile under his breath. “poor thing. s’okay. i’ve got you.”

your walls flutter around him, your thighs shaking where they frame his hips, and he feels it - feels the beginning of the end stutter through you.

“simon-“ you whinge.

he cuts you off. “look at me.”

you do. barely.

“tha’s it,” he breathes. “cum on my fuckin fingers. show me what i’ve been missin.”

you’re starved for it, beyond saving, and its only a couple more deep pumps before you break.

it floods through you - white hot and searing. you cry out his name as you clamp around his digits, trembling apart on his desk while he watches you like you’re art - jaw clenched, pupils blown - his fingers still moving, dragging you through it until you’re sobbing into his shoulder.

“there we go.” when it passes and you’re limp, blinking up at him stunned - he withdraws slowly. “attagirl. s’fuckin good.”

you swallow, watching wide eyed as he brings those same fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean.

“been dreamin bout that taste, knew it’d be sweet.” he purrs as he leans down, wiping his spit slick digits over your cheek. “gonna need it proper soon.”

you don’t even have time to question or respond to that, because then he’s unbuckling his belt.

when you finally look back up, his eyes are wild.

“s’this what y’want?” he murmurs, tugging leather through loops before undoing the button at his waist. “when you came t’me this mornin, all flushed and pretendin t’be innocent. was this it? wantin’ me to bend y’over and take what y’fuckin offered?”

you choke as he tugs himself free - thick, leaking at the tip and throbbing - bigger than anything you’ve ever seen, nevermind taken.

the nod that follows is compulsive desperation. “holy fuck-yes-“

he smacks light at your thigh. “stand up. bend over f’me.”

you do as you’re told without hesitation - legs shaking as you stand spin and lean forward over the desk - breath still stuttering in your chest, heart going a mile a minute. your hands barely meet wood before he’s on you - no preamble. no breath between. grabs your hips like it’s instinct, like his hands were molded to hold you like this, and yanks you back against him with a roughness that steals whatever’s left in your lungs.

you shudder when he slides his cock against your slit once - twice - dragging the head through slick and stalls notched just shy of your entrance, breathing hard like it’s killing him to wait.

“y’remember what else y’said last night?”

you barely manage a nod. your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. he exhales something like a laugh.

“not compliments. not the fantasies. not the whining.” he drags through your mess again, slower this time. deliberate. “you said—“ his hips press forward just enough to make you gasp. “—you wondered if it’d hurt.”

you whine, embarrassed, but god it shoots straight through you. he bends low now, chest flush to your back, mouth to your ear.

“truth is, it might.” his lips curl into a smile. “so don’t fuckin run now.”

and then - only then - he pushes in. you gasp so hard your chest deflates on impact, thick head stretching sopping walls wide and dragging deeper than you’ve ever imagined - too much and not enough all at once.

“ohfuck-simon-“ your head drops toward the desk, eyes stinging.

“mm. tha’s it.” he groans, loud, burying himself halfway before pausing there. “tightest fuckin—bloody hell.”

he presses forward a little more - just enough to make your knees shake as he steadies you with one hand at your hip and grits his teeth. he pulls out just to feel you clench, then shoves back in - hard enough to jolt the desk and feed you all of him before you can even brace for it.

“ffffuck-ohfuck-“ you wail, knuckles bloodless where they clutch the desk. “you-you’re-“

“deep.” he bends over you, grabs a fistful of your hair, and drags your head back to his mouth, voice hot on your skin. “i fuckin know.”

he thrusts once. hard. then again. slower. deeper.

“jesus christ,” he undoes your bra with his free hand, paws at your tits until it hurts. “walked around this whole time with this cunt made f’me and didn’t say a fuckin word.”

“fuck simon-“

“yeah.” he grits against your ear. “tha’s how you moaned it last night. just like that.”

it’s punishing, the pace he sets. each snap of his hips smacking against your ass drags stars down into your retinas - body rocking and cervix kissed with each thrust - his grip is bruising and his mouth works at your neck, forcing noises out of you loud enough to rattle the fucking walls.

it doesn’t take long before your chest collapses onto slick wood, drool coated cheek pressed to the desk - vision bleeding white around the edges. he’s relentless - driven, brutal in rhythm, like he’s trying to fuck the memory of your voice out of his head, the memory of your thighs pressed together last night when he walked away instead of dropping to his knees and giving in.

he groans, open-mouthed, flushed everywhere. he’s not just fucking you. he’s wrecking you. dragging you across the edge by the throat and holding your broken pieces together with his own.

“mmf-fuck.” he snarls, burying his fist back in your hair. his palm cracks hard across your ass before snaking around your thigh to find your clit. devastating. “this. this is what i thought of for months. you. fuckin boneless f’me.”

he pulls out slow with a shuttering exhale, just enough for you to whine before he roars back in - hard and fast, fingers never slowing.

you shriek, squirming with no where to go.

“y’got no fuckin clue what y’did to me last night.” he’s panting, fingernails burning your scalp. “sat there slurrin filth. darin me t’do somethin bout it. tested every fuckin moral i’ve got.”

your second orgasm is a charging tide - and god, you know he feels it. you know by the way he rolls his fingers faster to chase it, moans in your ear when your walls flutter around him, fucks you deeper and slower just to drag you over by your hair.

“cum f’me. give me another.” he grits. “let me fuckin feel it sweet’eart.”

“ff-fuck simon! yes-yes-“

you sob, and then it hits you - violent and wet and cataclysmic - like every single one of your fantasies brought to life, like every pathetic orgasm you gave yourself to the thought of him and his fuckin hands all combined to create this. it’s stratospheric depths of bliss, all the colours of the rainbow erupting behind your eyes as he fucks you through it, not stalling his fingers until you’re sobbing.

“mhm. messy little thing.”

he growls with it before pulling out just enough to slap his cock against your soaked cunt, watching the slick stretch, the way you whine and arch out of pure fuckin instinct.

“look at this pretty cunt,” he rasps, teasing his tip over your clit. “drippin. tremblin. fuckin cryin f’me.”

you try to say something, try to catch a breath, but that all falls void as he thrusts back in without warning - one brutal, complete thrust, pushing everything out of you. screams, his name, your fucking soul. he groans as his hand finds your jaw, forcing your head to turn just enough so he can see your face. cheeks flushed, tears caught in your lashes.

“shh. don’t run—don’t fuckin run,” he growls against your mouth, arm cinched tight across your waist when your hips jerk away like it’s too much. “y’asked for this. said it t’me sober.”

“si-simon. please.” it’s breathless, ruined, wrecked beyond meaning, your mouth falling open on another sob when his hips grind deeper, when the head of him kisses a spot that has your knees giving out entirely. “fuck. s’good. s’m-much-“

“yeah?” he snarls. “s’good, huh?”

you nod something pathetic, lost for words. broken around him.

“want y’to think bout this when you’re alone.” his free hand drags down to your stomach, rests just high on your pelvis, feeling where he’s drilling. “how deep m’buried in this tight little cunt. how good my name feels in your fuckin throat.”

another nod. another hiccuped moan dragged out of you. “y-yes-yes i’ll think about it-mmff-“

“mhm,” he kisses you once. fleeting and viscous and hot. “good. s’good.”

a few more ragged thrusts and a sound gets torn from him, pulled from somewhere deep, feral and hoarse and ragged. his hips punch forward one final time, burying himself to the hilt, and then—

“fuck—fuck.”

he lets go.

he groans, voice breaking at the edges, forehead falling to the space between your shoulder blades. he pulses deep inside you, all of his pent up heat flooding you full until he’s spent, until he’s got nothing left to give and collapses against your back in one shuddering, boneless exhale.

and when it’s over, it’s just breathing - a long quiet moment full of everything neither of you know how to say before you register that he’s moving - leaning over you to grab at where his dog tags were discarded on the desk.

he slips them around your neck, and then pulls out.

“man of m’word, sweet’eart.” he whispers against your jaw. “this isn’t over.”

———————————-

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