#will come back to this after I’ve seen where I’m at after listening over the next few days

[imnotjustreadingg]

a/n: Another imagine, this time based on another thing i like very much. (i know carlos is not in Ferrari anymore, but i need this phrase ☺️☺️)

can't be a bad boy

Bucky sat on the couch, shoulders tense, staring at the paused screen. The podcast’s title glared back at him, “Real Men Don’t Court — Why Women Like Rude Men.” He replayed the last few minutes in his head. The way the two men laughed, how confidently they spoke, like they knew something he didn’t. “You gotta be cold, man. Don’t text back right away. Don’t hold doors. Don’t apologize. Women like that edge. They don’t respect the ‘nice guys’. They walk all over them.”

Bucky shifted uncomfortably, his jaw tightening. He’d done the opposite of all that with you. He tried so hard to be better, to unlearn all the violent instincts, to be patient and gentle. You helped him with that. You made him feel like being kind was safe again. But what if these guys were right?

That evening, when you came home, Bucky seemed off. He didn’t get up to greet you. No smile. No little kiss on the cheek like he usually gave without thinking. “Hey,” you said, stepping into the living room and setting your bag down. “You okay?” He shrugged, eyes flicking to the screen before he quickly turned it off. “M’fine.” You tilted your head. “You sure? You seem… weird.” He hesitated. “You don’t think I’m… too soft or something?” You blinked. “Soft?” “You know. Like... too nice. Too… boring.” His voice dropped a little. “Do you like that I open doors for you? That I say sorry too much? Or do you think I should be more… rough, I dunno. Like, less available or something.” You stared at him for a second, confused. Then your eyes dropped to the computer near him, and it clicked. “Did you watch something?”

He glanced away. “Just some podcast.” You sat next to him and took his hand. “Bucky. Where’s this coming from?” He swallowed hard. “They said women don’t respect guys who treat them too well. That they get bored of it. That it’s better to act like you don’t care too much.” You were quiet for a moment, letting that sink in. Then you leaned closer, eyes searching his. “Is that what you think I want?” He looked genuinely torn. “I don’t know. I just-I’ve been trying so hard to do things right. To treat you right. But what if that’s not… what you really want?” You squeezed his hand. “Bucky, listen to me. I like how you treat me. I love that you open doors and say sorry and care about how I feel. You know what that tells me? That you respect me. That you want me to feel safe and loved and seen.” He looked down, his shoulders relaxing just a little. You added, voice softer, “Those guys on the podcast don’t know me. But you do. You’ve known me for years. You think I’d fall in love with someone who plays games with me?” His eyes finally met yours, vulnerable but full of quiet hope. “No,” he said. “You wouldn’t.” “Exactly,” you smiled. “So keep being you. The you that learns how to use a computer just to send me dumb memes at 2 a.m. The you that asks if I got home safe. The you that says good morning like it’s a prayer.” He laughed, a little choked up. “That sounds so dramatic.” “Yeah, well, I like my men dramatic,” you teased, bumping your shoulder against his. He let out a long breath and smiled, real this time. “Okay. No more internet philosophers for me.” “Good. Stick to cat videos and recipe hacks.” “Deal.”

After some times, podcast almost forgotten, you said something. “I have to say you’re rough to me sometimes…” you said casually, leaning back into the couch. Bucky froze. His breath hitched, eyes going wide as his mind began to spiral. Did I lash out in my sleep again? Did I say something awful? Did I hurt her? God, no. His voice cracked as he asked, “Did I…? Did I hurt you?” You looked over and saw the panic brewing in his eyes. The way his jaw clenched, the way he pulled his hand away like he might’ve burned you. Your heart softened immediately. “…In bed,” you added, lips twitching into a small smirk. There was a full beat of silence before Bucky blinked. Once. Twice. Then he exhaled, like he hadn’t been breathing at all—and dropped his head into his hands with a groan. “Doll,” he muttered, voice muffled. “You’re gonna give me a damn heart attack.” You laughed, scooting closer. “Sorry, sorry,” you said through your grin, nudging him with your knee. “I couldn’t help it.” He peeked through his fingers and gave you a tired glare, but it didn’t hold—it melted into a sheepish, boyish smile. “You scared the hell outta me,” he admitted. “I know. That’s why I did it.” You kissed the side of his head gently, then leaned your chin on his shoulder. “But really, Buck. You are rough sometimes. But in the ways I like. You’re gentle where it counts. You’ve never made me feel unsafe. Ever.” He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in tighter. “I just never wanna be that guy again, y’know?”  “I know,” you whispered. “And you’re not. You never will be. Not with me.” He kissed the top of your head, slowly, like he was sealing in the truth of your words. After a long pause, he said quietly, “So… you like me being a little rough in bed?” You smiled against his shirt. “I like you, all of you. Even when you’re a little cocky and grabby and like to pin me down.” His ears turned red immediately. “Well… now I’m gonna start thinking about that every time I try to be respectful.” You giggled. “Respectful and hot. Look at you, Barnes. A modern man.” He grinned against your hair. “Damn right.”

The doorbell rang, echoing softly through the apartment. You looked up, a little surprised. “Did you order something?” Bucky just shrugged, still sprawled on the couch. “Dunno. Probably for you.” You raised an eyebrow, suspicious but amused. “You’re not gonna get it?” He stretched dramatically. “Nah, I’m comfy.” Rolling your eyes with a smile, you padded over to the door in your socks and cracked it open. A man stood there holding a bouquet. Fresh wildflowers in soft pinks, whites, and a few little sprigs of lavender. The petals looked like something out of a dream. “Flowers for Y/N,” the delivery guy said with a polite smile, offering the bouquet. You blinked, surprised, then took them carefully. “Thank you…” Closing the door behind you, you turned around and looked straight at Bucky. He was sitting there with that telltale smirk tugging at his lips but his eyes were a little shy, like he wasn’t sure if he’d done too much or not enough. You lifted the bouquet, lips curving.

“You couldn’t be a bad boy even if you tried, Bucky.”

His smirk broke into a sheepish grin as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… thought maybe you’d like ‘em.” You walked back over and sat beside him again, resting the flowers in your lap. “You’re lucky I love the soft stuff.” He nudged your knee gently. “You like the rough stuff too, remember?” You laughed, leaning over to kiss him sweetly. “Only from you, Barnes.” His cheeks flushed just a little, but he leaned back into the couch with a proud little glint in his eye like maybe being the soft kind of strong wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[joextonyxfam-13]

Cosmic MIGHT be the first non skip release from RV for me personally.

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Fandom can do a little gatekeeping. As a treat.

So I finally decided to archive-lock my fics on AO3 last night. I’ve been considering it since the AI scrape last year, but the tipping point was this whole lore.fm debacle, coupled with some thoughts I’ve been thinking regarding Fandom These Days in general and Fandom As A Community in particular. So I wanna explain why I waited so long, why I locked my stuff up now, and why I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a-okay with making it harder for people to see my stories.

Lurkers really are great, tho

I’m a chronic lurker, and have been since I started hanging out on the internet as a teen in the 00s. These days it’s just cuz I don’t feel a need to socialize very often, but back then it was because I was shy and knew I was socially awkward. Even if I made an account, I’d spend months lurking on message boards or forums or Livejournals, watching other people interact and getting a feel for that particular community’s culture and etiquette before I finally started interacting myself. And y’know, that approach saved me a lot of embarrassment. Over the course of my lurking on any site, there was always some other person who’d clearly joined up five minutes after learning the place existed, barged in without a care for their behavior, and committed so many social faux pas that all the other users were immediately annoyed with them at best. I learned a lot observing those incidents. Lurk More is Rule 33 of the internet for very good reason.

Lurking isn’t bad or weird or creepy. It’s perfectly normal. I love lurking. It’s hard for me to not lurk - socializing takes a lot of energy out of me, even via text. (Heck it took 12 hours for me to write this post, I wish I was kidding--) Occasionally I’ll manage longer bouts of interaction - a few weeks posting here, almost a year chatting in a discord there - but I’m always gonna end up going radio silent for months at some point. I used to feel bad about it, but I’ve long since made peace with the fact that it’s just the way my brain works. I’m a chronic lurker, and in the long term nothing is going to change that.

The thing with being a chronic lurker is that you have to accept that you are not actually seen as part of the community you are lurking in. That’s not to say that lurkers are unimportant - lurkers actually are important, and they make up a large proportion of any online community - but it’s simple cause and effect. You may think of it as “your community”, but if you’ve never said a word, how is the community supposed to know you exist? If I lurked on someone’s LJ, and then that person suddenly friendslocked their blog, I knew that I had two choices: Either accept that I would never be able to read their posts again, or reach out to them and ask if I could be added to their friends list with the full understanding that I was a rando they might not decide to trust. I usually went with the first option, because my invisibility as a lurker was more important to me than talking to strangers on the internet.

Lurking is like sitting on a park bench, quietly people-watching and eavesdropping on the conversations other people are having around you. You’re in the park, but you’re not actively participating in anything happening there. You can see and hear things that you become very interested in! But if you don’t introduce yourself and become part of the conversation, you won’t be able to keep listening to it when those people walk away. When fandom migrated away from Livejournal, people moved to new platforms alongside their friends, but lurkers were often left behind. No one knew they existed, so they weren’t told where everyone else was going. To be seen as part of a fandom community, you need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, etc. etc.

There’s nothing wrong with lurking. There can actually be benefits to lurking, both for the lurkers and the communities they lurk in. It’s just another way to be in a fandom. But if that is how you exist in fandom--and remember, I say this as someone who often does exist that way in fandom--you need to remember that you’re on the outside looking in, and the curtains can always close.

I’ve always been super sympathetic to lurkers, because I am one. I know there’s a lot of people like me who just don’t socialize often. I know there’s plenty of reasons why someone might not make an account on the internet - maybe they’re nervous, maybe they’re young and their parents don’t allow them to, maybe they’re in a bad situation where someone is monitoring their activity, maybe they can only access the internet from public computer terminals. Heck, I’ve never even logged into AO3 on my phone--if I’m away from my computer I just read what’s publicly available. 

I know I have people lurking on my fics. I know my fics probably mean a lot to someone I don’t even know exists. I know this because there are plenty of fics I love whose writers don’t know I exist.

I love my commenters personally; I love my lurkers as an abstract concept. I know they’re there and I wish them well, and if they ever de-lurk I love them all the more.

So up until last year I never considered archive-locking my fic, because I get it. The AI scraping was upsetting, but I still hesitated because I was thinking of lurkers and guests and remembering what it felt like to be 15 and wondering if it’d be worth letting a stranger on the internet know I existed and asking to be added to their friends list just so I could reread a funny post they made once.

But the internet has changed a lot since the 00s, and fandom has changed with it. I’ve read some things and been doing some thinking about fandom-as-community over the last few years, and reading through the lore.fm drama made me decide that it’s time for me to set some boundaries.

I still love my lurkers, and I feel bad about leaving any guest commenters behind, especially if they’re in a situation where they can’t make an account for some reason. But from here on out, even my lurkers are going to have to do the bare minimum to read my fics--make an AO3 account.

Should we gatekeep fandom?

I’ve seen a few people ask this question, usually rhetorically, sometimes as a joke, always with a bit of seriousness. And I think…yeah, maybe we should. Except wait, no, not like that--

A decade ago, when people talked about fandom gatekeeping and why it was bad to do, it intersected with a lot of other things, mainly feminism and classism. The prevalent image of fandom gatekeeping was, like, a man learning that a woman likes Star Wars and haughtily demanding, “Oh, yeah? Well if you’re REALLY a fan, name ten EU novels” to belittle and dismiss her, expecting that a “real fan” would have the money and time to be familiar with the EU, and ignoring the fact that male movie-only fans were still considered fans. The thing being gatekept was the very definition of “being a fan” and people’s right to describe themselves as one.

That’s not what I mean when I say maybe fandom should gatekeep more. Anyone can call themselves a fan if they like something, that’s fine. But when it comes to the ability to enjoy the fanworks produced by the fandom community…that might be something worth gatekeeping.

See, back in the 00s, it was perfectly common for people to just…not go on the internet. Surfing the web was a thing, but it was just, like, a fun pastime. Not everyone did it. It wasn’t until the rise of social media that going online became a thing everyone and their grandmother did every day. Back then, going on the internet was just…a hobby.

So one of the first gates online fandom ever had was the simple fact that the entire world wasn’t here yet.

The entire world is here now. That gate has been demolished.

And it’s a lot easier to find us now. Even scattered across platforms, fandom is so centralized these days. It isn’t a network of dedicated webshrines and forums that you can only find via webrings anymore, it’s right there on all the big social media sites. AO3 didn’t set out to be the main fanfic website, but that’s definitely what it’s become. It’s easy for people to find us--and that includes people who don’t care about the community, and just want “content.”

Transformative fandom doesn’t like it when people see our fanworks as “content”. “Content” is a pretty broad term, but when fandom uses it we’re usually referring to creative works that are churned out by content creators to be consumed by an audience as quickly as possible as often as possible so that the content creator can generate revenue. This not-so-new normal has caused a massive shift in how people who are new to fandom view fanworks--instead of seeing fic or art as something a fellow fan made and shared with you, they see fanworks as products to be consumed.

Transformative fandom has, in general, always been a gift economy. We put time and effort into creating fanworks that we share with our fellow fans for free. We do this so we don’t get sued, but fandom as a whole actually gets a lot out of the gift economy. Offer your community a story, and in return you can get comments, build friendships, or inspire other people to write things that you might want to read. Readers are given the gift of free stories to read and enjoy, and while lurking is fine, they have the choice to engage with the writer and other readers by leaving comments or making reclists to help build the community.

And look, don’t get me wrong. People have never engaged with fanfic as much as fan writers wish they would. There has always been “no one comments anymore” wank. There have always been people who only comment to say “MORE!” or otherwise demand or guilt trip writers into posting the next chapter. But fandom has always agreed that those commenters are rude and annoying, and as those commenters navigate fandom they have the chance to learn proper community etiquette.

However, now it seems that a lot of the people who are consuming fanworks aren’t actually in the community. 

I won’t say “they aren’t real fans” because that’s silly; there’s lots of ways to be a fan. But there seem to be a lot of fans now who have no interest in fandom as a community, or in adhering to community etiquette, or in respecting the gift economy. They consume our fics, but they don’t appreciate fan labor. They want our “content”, but they don’t respect our control over our creations.

And even worse--they see us as a resource. We share our work for free, as a gift, but all they see is an open-source content farm waiting to be tapped into. We shared it for free, so clearly they can do whatever they want with it. Why should we care if they feed our work into AI training datasets, or copy/paste our unfinished stories into ChatGPT to get an ending, or charge people for an unnecessary third-party AO3 app, or sell fanbindings on etsy for a profit without the author’s permission, or turn our stories into poor imitations of podfics to be posted on other platforms without giving us credit or asking our consent, while also using it to lure in people they can datascrape for their Forbes 30 Under 30 company? 

And sure, people have been doing shady things with other people’s fanworks since forever. Art theft and reposting has always been a big problem. Fanfic is harder to flat-out repost, but I’ve heard of unauthorized fic translations getting posted without crediting the original author. Once in…I think the 2010s? I read a post by a woman who had gone to some sort of local bookselling event, only to find that the man selling “his” novel had actually self-published her fanfic. (Wish I could find that one again, I don’t even remember where I read it.)

But aside from that third example, the thing is…as awful as fanart/writing theft is, back in the day, the main thing a thief would gain from it was clout. Clout that should rightfully go to the creators who gifted their work in the first place, yeah, but still. Just clout. People will do a lot of hurtful things for clout, but fandom clout means nothing outside of fandom. Fandom clout is not enough to incentivize the sort of wide-scale pillaging we’re seeing from community outsiders today.

Money, on the other hand… Well, fandom’s just a giant, untapped content farm, isn’t it? Think of how much revenue all that content could generate.

Lurkers are a normal and even beneficial part of any online community. Maybe one day they’ll de-lurk and easily slide into place beside their fellow fans because they already know the etiquette. Maybe they’re active in another community, and they can spread information from the community they lurk in to the community they’re active in. At the very least, they silently observe, and even if they’re not active community members, they understand the community.

Fans who see fanworks as “content” don’t belong in the same category as lurkers. They’re tourists. 

While reading through the initial Reddit thread on the lore.fm situation, I found this comment:

[ID: Reddit User Cabbitowo says: ... So in anime fandoms we have a word called tourist and essentially it means a fan of a few anime and doesn't care about anime tropes and actively criticizes them. This is kind of how fandoms on tiktok feel. They're touring fanfics and fanart and actively criticizes tropes that have been in the fandom since the 60s. They want to be in a fandom but they don't want to engage in fandom 

OP totallymandy responds: Just entered back into Reddit after a long day to see this most recent reply. And as a fellow anime fan this making me laugh so much since it’s true! But it sorta hurts too when the reality sets in. Modern fandom is so entitled and bratty and you’d think it’s the minors only but that’s not even true, my age-mates and older seem to be like that. They want to eat their cake and complain all whilst bringing nothing to the potluck… :/ END ID]

-

“Tourist” is an apt name for this sort of fan. They don’t want to be part of our community, and they don’t have to be in order to come into our spaces and consume our work. Even if they don’t steal our work themselves, they feel so entitled to it that they’re fine with ignoring our wishes and letting other people take it to make AI “podfics” for them to listen to (there are a lot of comments on lore.fm’s shutdown announcement video from people telling them to just ignore the writers and do it anyway). They’ll use AI to generate an ending to an unfinished fic because they don’t care about seeing “the ending this writer would have given to the story they were telling”, they just want “an ending”. For these tourist fans, the ends justify the means, and their end goal is content for them to consume, with no care for the community that created it for them in the first place.

I don’t think this is confined to a specific age group. This isn’t “13-year-olds on Wattpad” or “Zoomers on TikTok” or whatever pointless generation war we’re in now. This is coming from people who are new to fandom, whose main experience with creative works on the internet is this new content culture and who don’t understand fandom as a community. That description can be true of someone from any age group.

It’s so easy to find fandom these days. It is, in fact, too easy. Newcomers face no hurdles or challenges that would encourage them to lurk and observe a bit before engaging, and it’s easy for people who would otherwise move on and leave us alone to start making trouble. From tourist fans to content entrepreneurs to random people who just want to gawk, it’s so easy for people who don’t care about the fandom community to reap all of its fruits. 

So when I say maybe fandom should start gatekeeping a bit, I’m referring to the fact that we barely even have a gate anymore. Everyone is on the internet now; the entire world can find us, and they don’t need to bother learning community etiquette when they do. Before, we were protected by the fact that fandom was considered weird and most people didn’t look at it twice. Now, fandom is pretty mainstream. People who never would’ve bothered with it before are now comfortable strolling in like they own the place. They have no regard for the fandom community, they don’t understand it, and they don’t want to. They want to treat it just like the rest of the content they consume online.

And then they’re surprised when those of us who understand fandom culture get upset. Fanworks have existed far longer than the algorithmic internet’s content. Fanworks existed long before the internet. We’ve lived like this for ages and we like it.

So if someone can’t be bothered to respect fandom as a community, I don’t see why I should give them easy access to my fics.

Think of it like a garden gate

When I interact with commenters on my fic, I have this sense of hospitality.

The comment section is my front porch. The fic is my garden. I created my garden because I really wanted to, and I’m proud of it, and I’m happy to share it with other people. 

Lots of people enjoy looking at my garden. Many walk through without saying anything. Some stop to leave kudos. Some recommend my garden to their friends. And some people take the time to stop by my front porch and let me know what a beautiful garden it is and how much they’ve enjoyed it. 

Any fic writer can tell you that getting comments is an incredible feeling. I always try to answer all my comments. I don’t always manage it, but my fics’ comment sections are the one place that I manage to consistently socialize in fandom. When I respond to a comment, it feels like I’m pouring out a glass of lemonade to share with this lovely commenter on my front porch, a thank you for their thank you. We take a moment to admire my garden together, and then I see them out. The next time they drop by, I recognize them and am happy to pour another glass of lemonade.

My garden has always been open and easy to access. No fences, no walls. You just have to know where to find it. Fandom in general was once protected by its own obscurity, an out-of-the-way town that showed up on maps but was usually ignored.

But now there’s a highway that makes it easy to get to, and we have all these out-of-towner tourists coming in to gawk and steal our lawn ornaments and wonder if they can use the place to make themselves some money.

I don’t care to have those types trampling over my garden and eating all my vegetables and digging up my flowers to repot and sell, so I’ve put up a wall. It has a gate that visitors can get through if they just take the time to open it.

Admittedly, it’s a small obstacle. But when I share my fics, I share them as a gift with my fellow fans, the ones who understand that fandom is a community, even if they’re lurkers. As for tourist fans and entrepreneurs who see fic as content, who have no qualms ignoring the writer’s wishes, who refuse to respect or understand the fandom community…well, they’re not the people I mean to share my fic with, so I have no issues locking them out. If they want access to my stories, they’ll have to do the bare minimum to become a community member and join the AO3 invite queue.

And y’know, I’ve said a lot about fandom and community here, and I just want to say, I hope it’s not intimidating. When I was younger, talk about The Fandom Community made me feel insecure, and I didn’t think I’d ever manage to be active enough in fandom spaces to be counted as A Member Of The Community. But you don’t have to be a social butterfly to participate in fandom. I’ll always and forever be a chronic lurker, I reblog more than I post, I rarely manage to comment on fic, and I go radio silent for months at a time--but I write and post fanfiction. That’s my contribution.

Do you write, draw, vid, gif, or otherwise create? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you leave comments? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you curate reclists? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you maintain a fandom blog or fuckyeah blog? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you provide a space for other fans to convene in? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you regularly send asks (off anon so people know who you are)? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you have fandom friends who you interact with? Congrats, you're a community member.

There’s lots of ways to be a fan. Just make sure to respect and appreciate your fellow fans and the work they put in for you to enjoy and the gift economy fandom culture that keeps this community going.

[hoonsluvr]

CHERRY

박성훈 ꒰ park sunghoon ꒱ — genre; summer au, best friend’s older brother, forbidden romance, smut, a bit of fluff, angst ୨ৎ cw; p in v, unprotected sex, spit, choking, gagging, oral f.rec, mating press, edging MDNI. ⟡ synopsis; you never thought that an unexpected obsession formed during your trip to southern italy would teach you one life’s cruelest lessons — never fuck your bestfriend’s brother ୨ৎ wc; 4.8k — library ⭑.ᐟ

inspired by; cherry - lana del rey

isla yaps; hii, this is my first work so i’m a bit nervous!! lmk what you think of the layout and feedback in general is appreciated! :)

Was it wrong that you felt happy when your parents announced they wanted to take a vacation alone this year?

You sit opposite them at the dining table, your mom explaining herself for the hundredth time over. Clearly she felt guilty about it but you didn't mind. “You know its our anniversary during that time darling and I hope you understand that we love having you with us, of course we do, but 50th anniversaries are rather special and we’re booking a honeymoon resort.”

You feign a look of sadness to act like you’re listening but your mind is already elsewhere. It wasn’t that you didn’t like spending time with your parents, that wasn’t the problem at all, but now that a family vacation was out of the picture, joining Stella’s family in Italy was back in the conversation.

Soojin, or Stella as she liked to be called was your best friend, your ride or die. Years ago, when you moved to a new town, the Park family were your next door neighbours and you and Stella quickly became close, bonding over your hatred for the town and its people. You two had always felt suffocated in its environment, the way everyone knew everyone’s drama, everyone’s problems, everyone’s secrets. You promised each other that one day you would escape and explore the world together for that very reason.

You were over at her house so much that you were basically a part of the family. You had your thumbprint on their security system, the password to the garage door, and even your own designated chair at the dining table. Her mom used to jokingly call you two sisters, but honestly, that didn’t feel far off. You and Stella had grown up together, seen all of each other’s phases too. The cringe phase, the boy-obsessed phase, oh god- the emo phase, and yet your friendship was still going strong. From weekend sleepovers where you giggled and gossiped all night long to crying on each other’s shoulders after not feeling accepted in school, to smoking your first blunt together, you two had been through every whirlwind experience together. After all these years, you still struggled to express just how much admiration you held for her.

And now, it had come. This was the last summer you had left with her. In 3 months you were going to head North to New York City, to pursue a degree in arts while Stella would remain in your hometown. When you broke the news, you expected her to be angry at you because of the promise you made to travel together forever, but she simply smiled and told you she was proud of you and that she always knew you would make it far.

You felt a pit in your stomach thinking about being apart, you had never really imagined life without her, so imagine your relief and excitement when she proposed that you join her family on their vacation to Italy this summer. One last chance to have the time of your life with your best friend while you were both still young? No one could catch you dead saying no.

-

“Mom, please.” You beg, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from frustration. You sit across from her on the kitchen island, sipping on a mango smoothie as she prepped dinner for tonight. At this point, the conversation had been going on for far too long and both of you were running thin on patience. “I just don’t understand why you won’t let me go.” You huffed, used to getting your way.

Your mother sighs. “Sweetie, I’ve explained this to you. The Parks have done so much for you, your entire life! I just don’t want you to be a burden on them when they’re trying to have a family vacation. They're extremely sweet for offering but it’s a tough situation.”

“Ugh!” You exclaim and your mother shoots you a don’t-be-so-dramatic look. “They offered to have me! And besides, with you and daddy going to Mexico and Stella going to Italy, I’m going to be alone this summer. My last summer before college is going to be spent wasting away. It’ll be years before I see Stella again!” You pout, your eyes sparkling with hope as you see her expression soften, triumphant that you clearly struck a soft spot.

“We’ll see about it darling.” She sighs.

Even with her weary expression, all the tell-tale signs were there. She had been convinced. You stand up, satisfied as you go to text Stella the news.

And that’s how you find yourself going to the South of Italy for three weeks with the Parks: Stella, her mother and father, and her older brother Sunghoon.

Sunghoon had always been a little shy and introverted making him hard to talk to, your four year age gap not doing much to help create a relationship either. Despite that, Sunghoon had always tried being sweet to you. After many attempts of trying to talk to him over the years, you finally managed to break his shell the one time he rescued your prized possession, a teddy bear plush named Ben, from a tree branch. You still remember the warm hug he gave you when you cried over Ben’s stitching being torn and ever since that day, although you wouldn’t call yourself friends, the relationship shifted. It changed from nods of acknowledgement to smiles, from waves of greeting to hugs.

During your last years of middle school, you even developed a small crush on him but you never once told Stella, knowing she would have killed you. Once you turned fourteen, Sunghoon left to go for college and you hadn’t seen him since then. You had no idea what he was like now, his personality, his likes and dislikes, his interests. Honestly, the thought worried you a little. You just decided you would try sticking to Stella on the trip, hoping that things wouldn’t be awkward.

Only if you knew. Only if you knew what was about to happen, you never would’ve chosen to go on that godforsaken trip.

-

The last minute nature of your decision to join the vacation meant that tickets weren’t available on the same flight as the Parks, so you booked one for a flight that arrived in Italy just two days later. You didn’t mind however, you were just excited to spend time with Stella.

And so you arrive in the quaint beach town of Taormina, located on the shorelines of the island of Sicily. The drive from the airport to your location spans over rugged hills overlooking the Loian sea. You maintain small talk with the barely english speaking driver, chatting about what to do in town and what beaches to visit. A gasp leaves your mouth as the taxi comes to a halt outside a stunning Italian villa style Airbnb. You know the Parks aren’t exactly middle class, neither were you, but you weren’t expecting this much grandeur.

Cobblestone bricks line the pathway to the house, leaning up against the ivy covered walls. Heaps of colorful potted flowers are placed at the entrance and a wooden gazebo in the corner catches your eye. Stella is sitting in the gazebo, sipping tea. When she sees you, she jumps up in excitement and rushes over.

“You’re here!” She squeals and twirls you around as you both laugh excitedly. You hear claps of joy from the back as Shin-ah, Stella’s mom steps out of the front door, her husband, Ji-hun in close pursuit. You quickly wish the driver goodbye and thank him before hugging them both fondly.

“Gosh, we only just saw you a month ago and you’ve already become prettier!” Shin-ah exclaims, making you blush and immediately resort to your usual ‘humble’ deflections that you recited out like a poem whenever she complimented you.

You lean to the side, getting up onto your tip-toes to get a glimpse of the dark haired boy who just stepped out of the door. Sunghoon. His short black hair was now grown out into a mullet and he no longer held the smiley expression that his face once always used to carry. You glance at his arms, his thin tank top showing off his muscles, a striking difference to his previously scrawny build. He looks so different. He’s grown now and more confident, no longer the sweet, shy boy you used to crush on. Theres no doubt, Sunghoon Park has matured. He’s a man now. A fucking gorgeous man, that too.

Sunghoon murmurs a half-hearted greeting towards you, reminiscent of the way he used to speak to you before you two became comfortable. You’re not surprised-it had been years since you’d seen him. Traces of your previous dynamics were long gone by now. You return the soft greeting as Shin-ah ushers you into the house, Stella following behind, wheeling your luggage in.

“You must be hungry, come, we’ve already set the table.” And sure enough, the intricately carved wooden dining table was all set up with dishes, cutlery and a large pizza in the centre. Dinner with the Parks is comfortable as you go back and forth with them, discussing the trip’s itinerary, recent stories and more.

Shin-ah glances at Sunghoon before turning back to you. “So, you and Sunghoon haven’t seen each other in a while. He’s been asking what you’ve been up to.” It was horribly obvious that Sunghoon couldn’t care less about what you’d been up to. His mouth opens in annoyance at his mother’s words. “What? No I—" But he’s cut off by a sharp nudge from his father who scowls at him. Embarrassment pools inside of you and you laugh awkwardly before Shin-ah nods encouragingly for you to continue.

“Well uh— I’m going to NYU after this summer. I’m going to be studying art history and I’m hoping to get an internship with a local gallery this summer, after the trip of course. But yeah…” You trail off awkwardly as Sunghoon pretends to be interested. An awkward atmosphere settles over the table and you finish in silence.

After dinner, you head up to your room that you’ll be sharing with Stella. You’re sitting on the floor, unpacking your suitcase while she removes her makeup.

“Hey,” she turns to you, “I’m sorry about what happened with Hoon earlier. I don’t know why he’s acting like that.”

You wave it off. “No, don’t worry about it at all, it’s all good. I’m sure it’ll settle down in a while.”

She nods comfortingly but deep down you feel a little hurt. You knew that it wasn’t going to be the same but you didn’t expect him to be so cold.

-

After a few chaotic days of what felt like never-ending sightseeing and cold shoulders from Sunghoon, you finally collapse onto a picnic blanket out in the back-garden, your white sundress pooling around your knees. You roll over onto your stomach, kicking your legs into the air as you grab your book, the pages soft between your hands as you slowly flip through, trying to find where you left off. Pop. The sound of plastic popping as you open the box of glowing red cherries next to you. Your favorite.

You're a few pages in when a soft voice calls from behind you. “Hey.” You glance behind to see him standing there in a loose white shirt and khaki shorts, holding a book. He laughs softly as you scramble to straighten yourself. “No need for that, you can sit however you want.”

“No, no it's okay,” you shake your head, sitting up straight now, confused at his cheerful demeanour “what do you need?”

“I was wondering if I could join you,” he tilted his head, “you seem to be having fun.”

You squeeze internally. Something about Sunghoon was making you nervous right now but you plaster on a sweet smile nonetheless, “of course.”

You’re hyperaware of his every movement as he approaches and sits down next to you on the blanket. He holds up the book he had and it takes you a second to realise that both of you had gotten the same book to read, ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’. You smile at him, “that’s funny.”

“It is, isn’t it?” He hums. “How’s Ben doing?”

You laugh, the anxious feeling in your stomach fading a little. There’s no need to be nervous in the first place, it’s just Sunghoon. “He’s doing okay. No more accidents since the last.”

The two of you fall into silence. He coughs. "Listen... I uh— I didn't mean to act that way when you first came."

You nod almost immediately. "You don't have to explain yourself, I get it, it's fine."

"No, I was acting like a jerk for no reason. I mean- you know how I am with people at first and I hadn't seen you in a while, it just took me a while to get used to. That's not an excuse for how I acted though, I'm sorry."

You peer at him. "I get it, I figured that's the reason you were acting distant. It's okay. I'm glad we can be pause normal again." You both look at each other and for a second you feel him glance at your lips but his eyes move away so fast, it's impossible to tell. He smiles softly at you.

-

Your legs are crossed as you lounge lazily on a chair on the balcony, taking in the view of the salty sea, waves lapping against the rocks. Once again, a box of perfectly round Italian cherries lay on the table behind you. You couldn't seem to get enough of them.

“You must really like these.” Sunghoon murmurs from behind you, pointing at the box of the sweet fruit. You smile lazily at him, not surprised by his interruption. Somehow, he had been finding you in all sorts of odd places recently, almost as if he was looking for you from the second you disappeared from view. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Sunghoon thought you were pretty. You realised fairly quickly from the way his eyes flicked up and down whenever he saw you, resting on your tits for just a second more.

“They’re my favorite.” You nod, grabbing one and popping it into your mouth as he watches. Maybe it's the way he’s staring at you hungrily but a newfound confidence takes over you. You reach for another cherry but this time, you make sure to hold eye contact with him, looking up with big bambi eyes as your tongue swirls around the sweet fruit. You bite into it and the red juice dribbles down your chin, your eyes glinting. His finger instinctively reaches down, a millimetre away from your chin before you nod to give him permission.

He swipes at the juice on your chin, before pulling his finger back, licking it slowly. Your throat suddenly feels like it’s constricting. You should not be doing this— holy shit you should not be doing this. You stand abruptly, coughing slightly. He doesn’t react much but a slight smirk plays on his face. Pause. “I should go,” you stutter as you rush into the house, heart hammering in your chest.

You try your best to ignore him for the next few days because you had no idea what possessed you to do that. Your mind constantly replayed the moment. The way he stared at you. The way he touched you. The way he licked his finger. God you were so fucked. Every time you saw Stella, you couldn’t help but feel guilty but then you tried comforting yourself. It wasn’t like you had done anything wrong, nothing actually happened.

You didn’t even notice what you were doing at first, your actions seemingly innocent in your mind. You just wanted to make the most of the summer clothes you owned and the heat in Taormina was intense, right? But your skirts were growing shorter and shorter by the day, your bikinis became skimpier and skimpier. That, accompanied by the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when he came around, batted your eyelashes at him, knowing it made him crazy-you hadn’t even realised but that little incident between the two of you had made you develop a little obsession with Sunghoon Park, just like the one you had all those years ago. And you were desperate for his attention now.

Right from your shiny olive skin that glistened in the Italian sun to your long hair that swayed as you walked, Sunghoon Park knew you were gorgeous, even more so now that you were making it painfully obvious. He knew. He knew you were doing all of this entirely on purpose but that didn’t mask his staring as you lather on sunscreen, resting beside him in the sand in a floral pink bikini.

You know you have him.

"Hey can you help me with this?" You ask softly, holding out the bottle of sunscreen towards him. His jaw ticks but he takes the bottle from your hand.

"Actually," you smile sweetly, "on second thought, I think I'm done, what do you think?"

If looks could kill, you would strike dead at this very moment from the way he was looking at you. “What’s your game?”

You stare at him, not expecting him to say those words so soon. “What do you mean?” You pout, pretending to be oblivious, a little upset that you didn't get to have that much fun with him before he called you out.

He scoffs. “You know exactly what I mean. Don’t play dumb. You like teasing me and then pulling away at the last moment, don’t you?” When you don’t respond, his expression hardens. “You’re trying to win a game you don’t even know how to play.”

Before you get the chance to respond, the two of you are interrupted as Stella runs to you, laughing.

“Hey are you having fun?” Stella smiles down at you.

“I’m having a great time, thanks.”

She nods as she moves to sit down on the sand, between you and Sunghoon.

Theres a moment of silence before you speak. “Hey Stells, thank you for letting me come. I appreciate it a lot. I would’ve had a terrible summer without you and I’m just really glad we get to spend time together before … you know …”

She smiles at you again. A genuine smile. “I’m gonna miss you. A lot. And I know you’re worried but i’m not, because I know we’ll always be friends. We’ve been through everything together and stupid New York isn’t going to change that.” As she pulls you in for a hug, you feel a pang in your heart. You love your friend and the last thing you want is for her older brother to come between you. But you just can’t help yourself.

You glance up at Sunghoon who's watching you two hug with an emotion in his eyes that you can't quite place. He meets your eyes and you shut yours, unable to look at him any longer. You hold onto Stella tighter, suddenly feeling disgusted with yourself. You're sickening. Sickening and selfish.

-

Your phone screen shows 4:36AM and sleep wasn’t coming. You sit up, rubbing your eyes as you glance at Stella snoring beside you. You get out of bed slowly, the wood creaking beneath you. You desperately needed a walk to clear your mind. Stepping into your fuzzy slippers, you leave the room, entering the narrow corridor outside. Sunghoon’s door stands tall in front of your face, which you would have normally ignored, except today, streaks of light peek out of the crack at the bottom. Why is he awake?

You know you shouldn’t. You know you really shouldn’t but you do it anyways. You knock softly. A few moments pass and you think he might not come. Right as you’re about to leave, the door clicks open and he stands there in grey sweats, shirtless. You choke a little but he doesn’t notice, neither does he seem surprised to see you.

He looks you up and down and you realise what you’re wearing—a tiny pink lace-trim nightgown, barely covering anything. He’s smirking now. “Come in.”

“Uh I—“ You start to say as you begin to regret your decision but you’re cut off by his harsh tone, his smirk now faded, replaced with a hardened expression.

“That wasn't a question. Come. In.”

You swallow nervously as you follow him into the room and shut the door behind you. Sunghoon sits on the edge of the bed, motioning for you to stand in front of him. You do as he asks and now you're staring down at his face, your silky hair hanging loosely, brushing against his cheeks. He starts to grab harshly at your waist and you gasp slightly.

"You think this is funny huh? Playing all these games? Do you have any idea what you're doing at all?" When you don't respond he starts again. “What? Cat got your tongue? Are you all nervous now? Don't be, you started this after all."

You breathe out shakily, hands finding his neck. "Please—"

"Please what?" His smirk is back, he likes that he's finally the one in control. "Say you want me."

"God I want you, I do." You whine pathetically. And whatever little power you may have had over him was gone, he had claimed it back. His dark eyes glint sinisterly as he stands, picking you up by the waist and placing you down onto the bed. Your legs are raised, being held up by his hands as he presses kisses on your left ankle. He slowly makes his way down, nuzzling his nose into your inner thighs. His teeth lock onto your panties and you gasp as he drags them off, discarding them on the floor, leaving you exposed.

"Fuck you're beautiful."

He dives in again, his nose pressing against your clit as he laps harshly at your folds. You throw your head back, a jerk reaction to the sudden sensitivity. You cry out and feel him immediately stop what he was doing. You whine softly in annoyance. "Wow baby, it seems like you really want my sister to know I'm fucking you right now." You swallow harshly as his eyes shoot daggers at you. "Keep. Quiet."

He's looking at your pussy now. You wait, burning to see what he would do. And he spits on it. You gasp, biting your lip to stop the moan. He spits right on your pussy, using his fingers to spread his saliva around your messy area. He begins to lick up your folds again, pressing his tongue down on your clit.

You can't handle it. It's pathetic but you already feel a knot building up in your stomach. "Hoon— I'm going to—"

"Not yet," he spits out, coming up.

You moan weakly in protest but he doesn't seem to care. "You don't deserve to cum yet. You've not been a very good girl have you?" You shake your head.

His hands reach for his pants now, pulling them down in one quick move and you could see how painfully hard he is. Your eyes widen as he pulls out his cock. It was big. Too big. Bigger than you'd ever had before and you didn't know if you would be able to handle it. He laughs, looking at your expression. "Don't worry baby, we'll make it fit."

He pushes your legs up all the way and you were practically bent in half in front of him, your knees blurrily shifting in and out of your peripheral vision. He lines his cock up with your entrance and rubs the tip across your wet folds, groaning softly as his eyes shut. Without warning, he pushes it in and you shriek in surprise, causing him to shove his fingers into your throat. You're choking around his fingers now as he thrusts into you, quickening the pace. Tears stream down your face as you gag, you're close again, you can feel it, but so can he. Just as you're about to reach your high, he stops his motion again and you lean back into the bed, panting hard. You're desperate for release now but as you stare up at his fucked out face through your lashes, smirking down at you, you know he's not going to give you that release anytime soon.

So you go four more rounds. Four more rounds of chasing that desperate high that he pulls away from you at the last moment. You're fucked up now, sweating and panting, your hair splayed across your face as you cried and cried, begging him. The sun had risen now and it pooled in through the window, enveloping you in a warm glow, making your tan skin look golden.

"God baby, you look so fucking sexy right now." Sunghoon reaches an arm towards the desk nearby, where a small pile of digital cameras lay. Stella's digital cameras. The one's she had excitedly bought for the trip, wanting to capture every memory. He points the lens of one of them at you and you don't even have enough energy to protest. Click. And just like that, a picture of you in one of your most fucked up moments was captured forever. He tosses the camera aside, turning his attention back to you.

"You up for one more?"

Strings of gibberish come out from your mouth and he chuckles as he pushes into you once again. He thrusts in and out and you're moaning loudly this time but neither of you cared anymore. You're so sensitive at this point that it doesn't take long for that familiar feeling to arise again. This time, Sunghoon lets you have it. You let out a strangled moan as you feel your orgasm wash over you. Pure fucking euphoria. He collapses on top of you after cumming as well. You reach out, your hands tangling in his hair, stroking his face gently.

You realise you haven't kissed yet. You lean down, placing a gentle kiss on his pink lips. He kisses you back immediately but there is no lust behind it. "You're a goddess, you know that?" He speaks, muffled against your arm. You laugh this time, reaching for the camera next to you. Click. Another picture. But this one is much cuter, the two of you staring into the camera, laughing as your arms are wrapped around him. Click. And another. He's kissing you and you just want to stay in this moment forever.

-

The remainder of the vacation is spent stealing glances and kisses with Sunghoon as you two sneak away at random times together. You visited his room every night, sometimes it was sex and sometimes you just wanted to cuddle.

If there was one thing you were sure of by the end of the vacation, it's that you were madly, madly in love with him. And he was in love with you too.

-

1 month later

You step into your room, flopping onto the bed, exhausted from your shift at the gallery. You pull out your phone to texts from both Stella and Sunghoon. Sunghoon's reads 'see you tomorrow :)' while Stella had texted to cancel your bar plans for the night, wanting to hang out at home instead. You almost feel relieved, too tired to even think of going to the bar. Instead, you quickly change your clothes and head over to the house next door. Shin-ah opens the door and she's delighted to see you as ever.

After exchanging some small talk, you head upstairs to Stella's room, briefly glancing at Sunghoon's door.

"Hey Ste—“ You stop. She isn't there.

You look around, confused for a moment before realising she's sitting outside on the balcony.

"Hey, what's up?" You smile at her as you take the seat beside her.

She doesn't respond, staring straight ahead into the pink sky. She's holding an envelope, nothing too special, just a plain white envelope.

"Do you know what this is?" She speaks for the first time, holding the envelope up, still refusing to look at you.

Your eyebrows furrow. "No?"

She breathes out, finally turning to meet your eyes. You recoil slightly when you see the wild anger looking straight at you. She opens the envelope slowly, almost teasingly. "You know..." She trails, "I recently sent in the film from the trip to be developed."

Your stomach drops.

She knows.

The envelope is finally open and she pulls out three photos. The first one of you laid down on the bed, fucked out with his cock still inside you, then you and Sunghoon are hugging naked, then you're kissing.

You're going to throw up.

"Look at me." She speaks softly, gently, but her voice is full of venom.

You look up to meet her eyes but you just can't do it. Your world is spinning.

"I want you to go to New York," her voice drops to a whisper, "and never come back. I never want to see you again. I never want you to see my brother ever again. Do you understand?"

You're nodding now, pleading silently, tears streaming down your face but you know it's not going to do anything.

She takes your nod as a yes. "Good, then we're clear."

[yapithoughts]

“Break up with her.”

You froze. The voice came from behind the office door—firm, cold, and far too close to your worst fear.

You had come to pick Jinwoo up. You were tired after a dungeon run and just wanted to go home, curl into his arms, and let the day melt away. But as your hand reached for the doorknob, you heard the words that made your blood run cold.

“She’s not fit to stand beside you, Sung Jinwoo. She’s not enough.”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. You stood there, motionless, the voices inside the Korean Hunters Association office cutting through you like a blade. You knew they were talking about you. They never liked you to begin with. You were a strong A-rank hunter, the second most powerful female hunter in Korea—but you weren’t Cha Hae-In. And worse… they knew your secret.

You stepped away, footsteps silent as you retreated.

Later that night, Jinwoo lay behind you, his arm draped over your waist, his warmth pressing against your back. His lips ghosted over your shoulder in lazy, affectionate kisses.

“You’ve been quiet,” he murmured into your skin. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, baby?”

You sighed, holding his hand where it rested on your stomach.

“It’s not important. Focus on what matters right now.”

“You are what matters to me,” he whispered, burying himself further into the crook of your neck. “If something’s wrong, talk to me.”

You turned slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. “Have you met Hunter Cha Hae-In?”

He blinked, brushing your hair behind your ear with the gentlest touch.

“I’ve seen her. Once or twice. Why?”

“She’s beautiful. Strong. The directors talk about her a lot.” Your voice was quieter now. “I heard they’re looking for someone to pair her with.”

“I’ve heard the rumors too.”

His expression stiffened. You nodded, then turned your back to him again, pretending to fall asleep. He could feel your distress, but you weren’t ready to say it yet. You weren’t ready to let him go either.

You stared at the wall in silence, wishing time would stop—wishing this moment could stay a little longer before everything shattered.

“Hunter Sung, this is an important discussion. Please try to see reason—”

“I’m done listening.”

Jinwoo stood from the conference table, his voice laced with suppressed fury. His shadow flickered unnaturally beneath his feet.

“This is the third time this week you’ve told me to leave her. What makes you think my answer will change?”

“Because it’s not about love, Hunter Sung. It’s about responsibility. You have power no one else can even fathom. You need someone by your side who matches that. Someone who can create the next generation of protectors.”

Jinwoo’s aura exploded in the room. The lights flickered as shadows stretched unnaturally across the walls. Everyone went silent.

“Don’t speak to me about responsibilities when you’re the ones trying to manipulate my life like it’s a political chess game.”

He turned, grabbing the doorknob.

“I said no. And I mean it.”

That evening, he came home late. You were waiting for him at the door.

He didn’t speak at first. He just pulled you into his arms and kissed you—desperate, almost like he was trying to remind himself that you were still here, still his.

“I’m sorry I’m late… Did you eat anything yet?”

“No. I waited for you.”

His embrace felt like home—safe, familiar, everything you ever wanted. And that made it hurt even more… because while he held on like nothing was changing, you already knew everything was about to end.

The next day, you were called in.

A private meeting. One of the directors. You had a feeling you knew what it was about—but you still went.

You met at a discreet coffee shop, far from headquarters.

“Please, take a seat.”

You sat, heart hammering.

“What I’m about to say is in the best interest of everyone. Please understand this is bigger than you—or even Hunter Sung.”

You said nothing, your silence permission enough.

“Hunter Sung has a duty. He’s more than a person now—he’s a symbol. He needs someone equal to him. Someone who can support the next era of hunters. That person is not you.”

You stared blankly ahead, fists clenched beneath the table.

“You are infertile. You cannot bear a child. That already makes you incompatible. Hunter Cha is not only an S-rank—she’s a woman who can give him an heir. Someone who will inherit his strength. You… cannot.”

It felt like someone had taken a knife to your lungs.

“Break up with him. This week. That’s not a request. It’s an expectation. The safety of the world depends on it.”

And just like that, he stood and left you there—gutted.

‘We need to talk. I need you to come home right now.’ You texted him, heart pounding with the weight of what you were about to say.

You sat on the couch, arms wrapped around yourself, eyes locked on the packed suitcase by the door. You had already decided.

Jinwoo arrived, dropping his keys on the counter. He saw the bag. Then he saw your face.

“Baby… what’s wrong? You’re not okay, are you?”

He rushed to you, kneeling in front of the couch, cupping your face.

You didn’t kiss him back.

“I’ve heard everything, Jinwoo.”

His shoulders stiffened. His expression shifted from confusion to dread.

“No. Don’t say it.”

“Please…” you whispered. “Understand that this is for the best.”

“No.” He stood, pacing. “If you’re asking me to break up, I won’t. I love you, Y/N. I’ve fought everything to be with you. I won’t stop now.”

“I can’t give you what they want, Jinwoo.” Your voice cracked. “I can’t give you a future. I can’t give you a child.”

“We’ll adopt.” He was desperate now. “We’ll find a way. It doesn’t matter—”

“It does.” You stood, holding his hands. “They want a legacy. Someone who’ll inherit your strength. That can’t be me.”

“Then let them want! I only want you…” His voice broke, raw and ragged. “I don’t care about legacies. I care about you.”

“But I care about you enough to let you go.”

His grip on your hands tightened like he was trying to keep you from slipping away.

“Please,” he said, his voice shaking. “Don’t do this. Don’t choose them over me.”

“It’s not about choosing. It’s about doing what’s right.”

He turned away, trembling, swallowing back tears. “You were the only thing in this world that made me feel human again.”

“And you were the only thing that made me feel loved.” Your voice cracked as you stepped closer.

“The world needs you, Jinwoo. I’m not the one you’re meant to be with.” You kissed his forehead one last time, a trembling, silent goodbye.

“Goodbye, Jinwoo.”

You opened the door, not daring to look back—because if you did, you knew you wouldn’t have the strength to walk away.

“Was my love not enough?” His voice cracked behind you, barely audible. “Wasn’t it enough for you?”

You paused at the threshold.

“It was more than enough. That’s why it hurts.”

And then the door closed.

And he collapsed to his knees.

You didn’t look back as the door clicked shut behind you. Outside, the air was colder than it should’ve been. Maybe because you left everything warm behind. Maybe because you left your heart on the floor next to him.

Inside, Jinwoo remained still, his knees digging into the floor, your scent lingering like a ghost. His fists trembled as he stared at the door, hoping—praying—you’d come back. But the silence answered him louder than any goodbye ever could.

He let out a broken laugh through the tears.

“You said it was for the world,” he whispered to no one. “But you were my world.”

[sobbingscripter]

⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼 wc. 590 🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆

“You skipped school so you could hang out with my parents?”

Mark stands in the doorway of the kitchen, his expression a cross between bewilderment and betrayal, as pretty brown eyes remain fixated on where your flour-dusted hands continue to roll various clumps of dough, your expression purely unapologetic and he watches the crinkle appear at the corners of your eyes.

“We’re making bread.”

“Oh, you’re making bread?” Mark repeats after you, his tone mocking and he lets out a huff, upper lip curled in distaste as he shuffles into the kitchen, taking a seat on one of the stools, elbows rested on the granite countertops as he watches you move around his kitchen with ease.

“How was school, Mark?” Debbie presses a kiss against Mark’s cheek, her hands dusted with flour, the scent of yeast and dough clinging to her skin, alongside a floral perfume.

“It was fine.” He hums, gaze focused on your back, watching the way your shoulder blades move beneath the constricting fabric of your T-shirt. “Why’re you making bread?”

“Your mom found a recipe and she didn’t wanna try it alone.” You respond, glancing over your shoulder towards Mark who simply lets out another hum, before shifting in his seat.

“Where’s dad?” “Perfecting his bread in his study.” Debbie snorts. “She kept evil-eyeing the dough.”

“I wasn’t evil-eyeing the dough.” You huff, almost defensively. “I was just looking and he said I was ‘sucking the flavour out of the bread’.”

And Mark snorts.

“What kind of bread are you making?” He lifts himself from his seat, hands pushing the sleeves of his sweater up, coming to stand beside Debbie. His chin rests on her shoulder, and he watches the way her hands continue to knead at the dough.

“Uyu Sikppang.” She hums softly. “Your father’s making Dutch bread.”

And Mark glances towards where you’re sprinkling chocolate chips onto your dough, your eyes twinkling deviously and Mark doesn’t really enjoy the way his belly knots when he watches the way you catch his glance from the corner of your eye, your lashes fluttering and your lips curl so prettily at the corners.

“And you?”

“I’m freestyling it.” You state proudly. “Vanilla extract, a pinch of salt, sugar and a few other things. And before you can even say anything, I’ve got faith in this bread.”

And Mark snickers, moving away from his mother, instead, plopping in the seat beside you, and he looks up at you from beneath stupidly gorgeous lashes.

“Remember when you freestyled that Math test, had faith and still got a D?” Mark’s voice is low, almost conspiratorially so and you glare at him. But goddamn, that shit-eating grin looks so good on him. Lips curled, eyes crinkling at the corners, dimples in his cheeks.

“Better than failing an English listening comprehension because Amber’s wearing shorts.”

And Mark hisses.

“I told you that in confidence.”

“You should never do that.”

And heavy thudding steps travel down the stairs, and Mark glances towards where Nolan holds a tray, its contents obscured from eyes (most likely yours).

Blue eyes crease at the sight of Mark, a smile raising his full moustache.

“How was school, champ?”

“Same old, same old.” Mark moves towards his father, attempting to lift the bowl that obscures the dough and Nolan swats Mark’s hand away.

“Not in front of her.”

“Mr Grayson, I didn’t—”

“Silence, witch.” Nolan interjects. “I know what your people do. I’ve seen ‘Hocus Pocus’.”

⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆

“Your bread’s just a giant cookie.”

“I know. Isn’t it beautiful?”

T🌼A🌼G🌼L🌼I🌼S🌼T

@lucky-beheaded ; @queen-of-gotham ; @coldvirginbitch ; @wittyjasontodd ; @a-n-a-n-a1 ; @dearlyya ; @broicouldjustbuyyousomekombucha ; @jasontoddswhitestreak ; @daydreams-and-peace ; @misstyy12 ; @fruticake ; @httpstes ; @waterflowersblog ; @glowinthedarkjellyfish ; @vm4879bb-blog ; @monaekelis ; @radlovesfics ; @allycat4458 ; @bigbodycity ; @feral010 ; @anesthesia-4rizzle ; @princesstrunkz ; @blackfox774 ; @sh1d0uryus31 ; @your-lovely-rose26 ; @slugstarzz ; @ripcolel0l ; @strawbiemilk420

[mywritersmind]

BAD FOR BOTH - KA12

summary : Kimi is sweet and considerate and media trained… you however, are on a path to corrupt the boy with yacht trespassing and late night make outs.

listen up : russell!reader. this was SO much fun to write i love it so much. a quick make out scene! mutual pining!! banter!

words : 3273

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I’ve heard it a million times. Seen the headlines, too.

‘LITTLE RUSELL : the rebel opposite of her pretty boy brother’.

To be honest, I'd probably be more angry if it said I was just like him.

George walks back into the garage, his hair pushed back and a defeated look on his face. Everyone says Monaco qualifying is the real race; for Mercedes, theirs just ended.

George getting rescued from the tunnel. Kimi in the wall. P14 and P15. My boys.

“That was shitty.” I say to my brother, pulling my headphones off as he lets out a breath.

He runs his hands through his hair, “Tell me how you really feel.” We have the same last name and eyes. That’s where our similarities end.

George is nine years older and nine inches taller. He’s posh and polite, a glaring difference from my overall attitude which comes off a bit… rougher.

Kimi walks up to us, patting George’s back in an act of understanding. His usual bright eyes are distant, his cheeks still red.

He doesn’t even look at me, not surprising too much because I know how he gets after something like this. Still a bit hurtful though.

“Just stay focused…” I hear George say to Kimi, “Keep your head down. It’s just like any other race- things happen.” Safety cars happen, Is what he wants to say but he’s too media trained to even bring up a crash.

Kimi mumbles a, “Thanks mate.” Before disappearing around the corner and while I watch him go, I get an idea.

“No. No- I see that look.” George snaps his fingers in front of my face, “Don’t do it, Y/n.”

“You don’t even know what I'm thinking.” I roll my eyes at my brother, dramatic as always.

“If it involves Kimi, get it out of your head.” I start walking away before he even finishes. “Y/n!”

I wave my hand in the air without turning around, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Georgie!”

I find Kimi talking to his race engineer, his eyes catching on mine just as their conversation ends and the older man leaves. “Don’t pity me.” He says softly, busying himself with the straw of his water bottle.

“When have I ever pitied you?” I scoff, wondering if he knows me as well as he claims.

“Imola.” His head tilts a bit, my mind rushing back to the night of his home race. The image of me sitting on his bed, his grandmother's cake between us while my fingers drift over his hand.

“Come to the marina tonight.” I say, switching the conversation back to why I came to talk to him, “Clear your mind.”

The way his nose scrunches, how he steps forward, I swear I could prove all the rumors right then and there. “If you’re there, my mind won’t be clear.”

I play into his words, “Then come and think about something except for racing for once.”

“What, like you?” He’s quick. Too quick. I feel the student has become the master, especially with the way his tongue darts over his lips and his eyes stray from mine in a calculated glance to my lips.

I’m bad for him. I know it. He knows it.

Neither of us really care.

I swallow, “When did you become such a big talker, Antonelli?”

“About the time when I realized I need to actually stand up to you.” Someone walks by us, mumbling an apology and making Kimi step back. “I have to focus tonight.”

“You don’t want to hang out with me?” I slip my hands behind my back, pouting a bit and leaning against the wall.

He scrunches up his face again, “I can’t.”

“Didn’t know Merc ran your social life.” He shakes his head and I'm a bit proud of myself that he’s smiling and not frowning anymore. “I’ll be there if you change your mind.”

⋆༺

He does- change his mind, I mean.

I watched the sun dip behind the water a while ago, the pink and blue sky morphing into darkness. I was fully prepared to have a night to myself, no text, no call. But there he is, walking up to me in jeans and a hoodie while looking so effortlessly attractive.

We walk along the harbor, maybe a little bit too close together. He has his hood on, his curls peeking out of the front. “Would you ever move here?” He asks out of the blue.

“If someone else paid for it.” I shrug, making Kimi smile in the heartbreaking way he does, “Would you?”

“Yeah. Ollie and I are planning to get a place.” I can’t help but grin at this, turning towards Kimi while we walk.

“Oh so that’s why you asked. You want me close?”

He bites back a smile and I swear to god- even in the dark, he blushes. He doesn’t answer my question, but the look he gives me tells me all I need to know.

“If I move here, would you buy me a yacht?”

His jaw drops, “Why me!?”

I laugh, “You’re the one who wants me here! Might as well make it as Monaco coded as possible”

He rolls his eyes, “Monaco coded while you’re in Monaco is crazy. Ask your brother for the boat.”

I shake my head, turning to the boats that line the water, “Let’s just steal one of these.” We probably know half the people who own them.

“Just find Max’s…” Kimi grins, eyeing each extravagant boat, “I’m already convinced that I should get one, honestly.”

“Holy fuck.” I mumble, standing in front of the nicest boat I've ever seen. The back is all I can see and even that is beautiful. It’s lit up only by the street lights but something in me needs to see more.

Kimi almost runs into me, clearly not expecting me to be frozen in place because of a boat. “Woah…” He looks up at it with big eyes, making me double take from the yacht for a second.

I drag my eyes back to the boat, “Now this- I could get used to.”

He walks to the side, checking it out more. He's gone full teenage boy, looking like fucking peter parker and nerding out.

“What’s it named?” I ask, walking over towards him with my arms crossed, starting to get cold.

He actually giggles, putting his hand over my eyes quickly, “Guess.”

“Um… Unleash the lion?” I hear him let out a laugh, his hand warm over my eyes, “Twelve? Andrea? Beautiful girl named Y/n?”

He moves his hand and my jaw actually drops at the name, “Silver apex?” I grab Kimi’s arm, “Andrea. This is a sign.”

“For what!?” He laughs.

“We’re going on it.” I grip his arm harder but he doesn’t move.

“No we are not!” I grin, holding onto him with both my hands now, “No fucking way, Russell!”

“Come on! No one’s even out here- Kimi. We’re in Monaco!”

“Yeah, for my job!” He lets me pull him closer, but stops when I step on the back. “I’m not trespassing with you.”

I sigh dramatically, letting go of him and walking father onto the boat, “I’m not gonna go inside or anything- just the front!”

“These things probably have cameras!”

“Live a little, drea!” He groans at the nickname, “It’s too dark to see anything.”

He mumbles, “Night vision.” But I keep walking without looking back.

“Come on, K… I'm doing it with or without you! Maybe I'll do it topless.” I mumble the last part but I'm pretty sure he hears because I hear footsteps behind me.

The smile on my face grows, even when we both know I'm keeping my top on.

The front is even bigger, multiple spaces to sit, a net to lay out on, but I lead him to the very front, sitting with my legs crossed.

He sits next to me with a grumble. “You’re horrible for me.”

I hum, leaning back on my arms, “Yet you keep coming back.” His leg is touching mine and when he turns to smirk at me, I stop breathing for a second.

“If we get arrested, I'm taking off without you.”

I shove his arm with a scoff, “Better bail me out, rich boy.”

“Not if I'm saving for a yacht.” I laugh again, “I think it’d be worth it, maybe in a couple of years.”

“To get me to sneak onto a boat legally?”

He nods, the wind blowing both of our hair, his getting in his eyes a bit. I bring my hands to his face, my fingers running through his hair as he watches me. Whoever said that brown eyes are boring clearly has not met Kimi Antonelli.

I tug a particularly stubborn piece, the curl bouncing back into place as he just lets me. I pull my legs to my chest, dropping my hands away from Kimi to hold myself.

It’s like he can hear my thoughts because without me saying or honestly doing anything, he tugs his hoodie off and pulls it over my head. “Kimi!” I laugh as the neck gets stuck on my hair. “You’re going to get cold.” I say after I happily put my arms through and the warmth from the fabric and his body heat make me smile.

“Don’t act like you don’t want it.” He shakes his head, “I’ll be fine.”

“You’re way too nice to me.” I tug at his hair again, his eyes soft as I play with his curls.

“For all the shit you give me, definitely.” He jokes, his head leaning towards me in the teasing way it often does. Sitting closer, His hand going to the broken hem of my jean shorts, his fingers absently tugging at the frayed edges. “You know… your brother talked to me about you.”

I’m immediately scared, “What did he say?”

“Just that I should stay away.” He shrugs like it’s nothing, “Said that my rookie year should be spent… single.”

I am going to kill George Russell. “Why would he even-”

“I told him we’re just friends!” He hurries to explain while I have to physically fight a frown, “But I get what he meant.”

“You think I'm a distraction?”

“I think we’re on someone else’s boat right now and I don’t give a shit because you’re fucking beautiful.” His words cut into me like a knife.

I know a lot of things about Kimi Antonelli. Him thinking I'm beautiful was not one I was aware of.

“You’re a good distraction…” He reasons, “A dangerous one, sure, but oddly enough… I think you help me.”

“George said the same thing to me- except it was more about getting in trouble in general.”

“Why do you?” He asks.

I shrug, “It’s not always on purpose! Honestly, shit just happens to me.”

His hand stops on my thigh, eyeing me with a smirk, “Because of your own actions.”

I bite my lip, nodding. He knows me too well. “Consequences suck.”

“What about right now? You think we’ll have consequences?”

“For the boat? No. Me taking you on the boat… yes. I swear Toto has eyes everywhere.”

“He won’t find out about this.” I can’t tell if he’s trying to convince me or himself, “People always know when I've been with you, though. It’s like when you just know someone had sex.”

I laugh out loud, “We’re not having sex.”

I make him blush. “I didn’t say that! I’m just saying- everyone at Merc always pulls the ‘hang out with Y/n yesterday?’ or ‘Y/n is over there if you’re looking for her’.” He rolls his eyes as I laugh.

“And they’re wrong to think that?”

He shakes his head, his laugh fading and his eyes back on mine, “I’m always looking for you.”

“I look for you too.” I say quietly, shifting the mood as if it’s my job, “When you’re in the garage, or in the wall…”

He groans, dropping his forehead to my shoulder for a second, “Don’t remind me!”

“You couldn’t even look at me when you came in.” I have to mention.

He sighs like it actually pains him, “It’s embarrassing. It was my fault.”

“Why would I ever care about that?” I ask.

“It’s Monaco.” Kimi reminds me as if I don’t know where we currently are.

“Yeah and every other driver is probably up right now, thinking about that.” I nudge his arm, “To beat them, you have to be different from them.”

He narrows his eyes, “Very professional of you.”

It’s too perfect of an opportunity to not flirt with him, “Be different and think about me instead.”

“There she is.” The way he says it makes my stomach flip, “Not really hard to convince me otherwise- even with the race tomorrow, you’re all I can think about.”

“Is that why you came out here tonight?”

He shrugs, quiet for a minute, like he can’t find the words. “Everytime im stressed, I just want to be with you. You’re so effortless, in everything you do.”

“I’m really not.”

His brow quirks, “How?”

“I’m putting a lot of effort into flirting with you.” I say, “Although, you do kind of make it easy.”

His head falls to his hand, a slight groan escaping from his lips as his curls move side to side, “Christ…”

“What!?” I laugh.

“I’m really trying to respect George’s wishes right now.” He looks back up at me, his hand dropping back to my leg as his heated gaze bores into me.

“You’ve already got the trespassing thing down… maybe it’s time you adopt my lifestyle in other ways.” He’s leaning in.

“Like?” His eyes flick to my lips just as the air is stolen from me.

“Like I never listen to George. Especially when it comes to something I really want.”

“Smart… cause I really want you.”

I can’t breathe. Can’t move. I can only stare at him and watch the space between us shrink. I can feel his breath against mine, his hand hot against my skin.

His lips are hovering over mine, teasing me… controlling me. “I really want you too.” I say it just before his lips crash into mine.

It feels like every moment, every lingering touch or whispered promise, has led to this moment. He’s quick at first, like he can’t wait to feel me against him… but it turns slow the second his hand drags up my side and holds my waist, like he’s savoring me.

I lean back on the boat, taking Kimi with me. I slide my hand into his hair, pulling him closer as he leans over me, his tongue slipping into my mouth.

His hand grips my waist tighter, the reminder of his hoodie on me making me kiss him harder. His lips are soft, my lipgloss transferring onto him between breathless kisses and airy smiles.

He's perfect, I think. At least, he’s perfect for me.

“Hey!” A voice makes us both jump, a bright red light flashing down onto us as a man walks closer to us, remarkably fast for how unstable he looks.

As Kimi and I hurry to our feet, the light washes over us before shutting off with a click. When the light goes out, the man’s face comes into view.

We are so utterly fucked.

⋆༺

I’ve been lectured plenty of times. Never in my life did I expect to be yelled at by my big brother and his fucking team manager, with his teammate by my side.

“You got caught having sex on Sir Jackie Stewart’s yacht!” George yells, apparently confident no one is around Toto’s office.

“We were not having sex! It was a kiss!” I’m not afraid to fight back but Kimi, poor Kimi… looks like he’s about to pass out.

George groans, waving his hands around like a maniac while Toto pinches the bridge of his nose, “Jackie said he was on top of you-”

Kimi shakes his head, “Yeah, I'm out.” but when he starts to stand, his chair scraping the floor in an uncomfortable screech, Toto points at him.

“Sit down.” The man, awfully quiet for being the one who called us all in here, finally speaks, “Listen- I don’t want to hear the details. What I care about is the fact that you both could have gotten arrested!”

Kimi leans into his hand, eyeing me as a rush of remorse washes over me. I feel horrible because, as much as I hate to admit it…

“You’re right.” Toto looks surprised when I speak up, “It was reckless and stupid and not worth it.” I look at Kimi when I say the last part, hoping he knows I’m lying. “And it was my fault- Kimi didn’t want to go.”

“I have free will, you know.” Kimi mumbles as I scoff.

“I’m trying to help you here-”

He doesn’t look at me, staring at Toto with his hands gripping the arms of his chair, “I knew what could happen and didn’t care.”

“I don’t really give a shit about what you think you knew.” Toto looks between both of us, George pacing behind him. “You’re lucky. Both of you- that Sir Jackie let you off without anything but a warning.”

We leave his office with George’s hand clamping down on both of our shoulders. “George!” Toto yells from his chair, “Stay back for a second.”

My brother freezes and I wonder how he likes it, being the one who will sit across Toto and likely get yelled at.

When the door shuts, Kimi doesn’t stop walking. It’s horrible, agonizing silence, that leads us to a dead end in the maze that is the Mercedes hospitality.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Kimi.” I’m quick to say, “I knew it was a bad idea and you didn’t want to go but- shit. I don’t know when to stop sometimes.”

“Y/n, it’s fine.” His words make my eyes dart to his. He’s… smiling? “Free will, remember?”

“We could have been arrested.”

Kimi rolls his eyes playfully, “Sir Jackie laughed when he realized it was me, then even harder when you said your last name, I wasn’t that worried.” His hand goes to mine, his thumb smoothing over my skin.

“We got yelled at.”

“And I'm sure it won’t be the last time we do.” He shrugs, “I think it was worth it.”

My eyes widen, “I do too! Fuck, of course I do- you’re a great kisser.” I blush the longer I talk, only inflating Kimi’s ego and making him laugh.

“The only thing is… George has a big mouth.” I groan, knowing what he’s going to say, “So don’t be surprised if the guys say anything.”

“Me!?” I let out a laugh, “They’re gonna roast you alive.” His nose scrunches, like he’s already anticipating the jokes.

Kimi squeezes my hand, pulling me into a hug. I’m still in the hoodie that smells like salt air and his cologne, his arms around me so tight that I hope he never lets go.

He does, unfortunately, about the same time that footsteps come pounding down the hallway.

It’s Ollie and Lando, they’re both out of breath and grinning like maniacs. “You two-” Ollie gasps, his hands on his knees, “Almost got arrested while making out!?”

Lando laughs harder now, not making it any easier for him to breathe, “This is the best news… I've ever heard!”

I groan, looking at the boys, “Fucking George! How did he get out of Toto’s office so fast?”

Lando laughs in our faces, “George? Sir Jackie Stewart told us!”

[pucksandpower]

I’ve Always Chosen You

Lando Norris x wife!Reader

Summary: in which your husband gets drunk, forgets that you’re married, and cries his heart out about it … at your own wedding

The music pounds against the walls of the reception hall, vibrating through the floor. Voices chatter in the distance, loud and messy in the aftermath of too many champagne toasts.

The after-party has begun, and it feels like the room is made of laughter and bubbles and the slight hum of joy that still hangs in the air. But you’re standing at the edge of it all, eyes sweeping the crowded space. Your smile falters, just slightly, because there’s one thing out of place.

Lando is gone.

“Where is he?” You ask for what feels like the hundredth time. This time, you’re standing next to Max, who shrugs and hands you his drink.

“I saw him last by the bar,” Max says, but his grin is wide, unaffected. He doesn’t get it. Nobody does.

“He’s drunk,” you say, more to yourself than to anyone. It’s not unusual for Lando to drink too much at a party, but tonight is different. It’s supposed to be different.

Max chuckles, clinking his glass against his own. “Well, it is his wedding.”

Your wedding. Your wedding.

Your chest tightens, and you can’t explain why you feel a sudden rush of panic.

“I’m gonna find him.” You don’t wait for Max’s reply before you slip through the crowd, searching every corner of the reception hall for any sign of him. His jacket is still draped over the back of his chair at your table, his drink — now abandoned — sweating on the tablecloth. You glance toward the dance floor, where some of his friends are still doing ridiculous moves, but he’s not there either.

Your pulse picks up speed.

The hallway outside the venue is quieter, dimmer, and you start checking doors. One leads to the bathroom, another to a storage room, but no Lando. You feel stupid. This is ridiculous. You should be at your own after-party, celebrating with your friends, laughing, not hunting down your newlywed husband like he’s disappeared off the face of the earth.

But you can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong.

Another door, this one creaking slightly as it opens. You push it wider, revealing a darkened supply closet, the smell of cleaning products faint but distinct. The softest shuffle of feet, and then a muffled sob, barely audible over the sound of your breath catching in your throat.

“Lando?”

You push the door open all the way, and there he is-sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest, his face hidden in his arms. His entire body shakes with the kind of sobs that come from somewhere deep, uncontrollable. You’ve seen Lando in every state — happy, angry, everything in between — but this? This is something else.

“Oh my God.” You drop to your knees beside him, panic rising in your chest. “Lando, hey, what-what happened? Are you okay?”

He shakes his head without looking up. “No.”

You reach for him, putting a hand on his arm, but he flinches at your touch. “Hey, talk to me. What’s wrong? What happened?”

He finally lifts his head, eyes red, his cheeks streaked with tears. His lips tremble as he tries to speak, but his voice breaks when he says, “You got married.”

It’s the one sentence that shouldn’t hurt, because it’s true. You did get married. To him. You blink, confused, heart still pounding.

“Yeah … I did.”

His head drops again, and his sobs return, louder this time, like he’s tearing apart at the seams. “I-I’ve been in love with you since-since-forever,” he chokes out between ragged breaths. “And-and now you’re-you’re married. You went and married some-some douchebag, and-and I’m stuck here-”

“Lando,” you say, a little too sharply, but he’s not listening.

“I-I was going to tell you,” he mumbles, barely coherent now. “I-I wanted to tell you so many times, but-but you were always-so perfect, and-and I couldn’t, and now-now you’re married and I’m so-so stupid.”

“Lando.” You try to steady your voice, because he’s not making any sense. “I married you. You, Lando.”

His brow furrows, but the tears don’t stop. “What?”

“I’m married to you,” you say again, softer this time. “Lando, we got married today. You’re my husband.”

He stares at you, blinking rapidly, but the confusion stays etched in his face. “No. No, you-you married someone else. You-”

“Lando.” You grab his face, forcing him to look at you, your thumbs brushing away the dampness on his cheeks. “Listen to me. You’re the one I married today. We just had a whole reception. We danced. You gave a speech that made my mom cry. You kissed me, like, twenty times in front of all our friends.”

He’s still shaking his head, even as his breath hitches and his sobs quiet a little. “No. No, I-I would remember that.”

“You’re drunk, Lando. You’re wasted,” you say, your heart squeezing because you’ve never seen him like this, never seen him this broken. “You don’t remember because you’ve had, like, ten drinks, but trust me. You’re my husband. We got married today.”

His eyes dart back and forth between yours, searching for something-anything-that makes sense. But then his face crumples again. “No,” he whispers, “no, no, no, you don’t-don’t say that. Don’t mess with me like that.”

You let out a shaky breath, kneeling closer, pulling his face gently into your hands. “Lando. I’m not messing with you. I married you because I love you. You. There’s no one else. I don’t know why you’re-why you’re so upset, but I swear to God, you’re the only one.”

He looks at you, really looks at you this time, and for a moment, you think maybe-maybe he’s starting to understand. But then his lip trembles again, and his breath catches.

“I-I’ve loved you for so long,” he whispers, voice cracking. “I-I don’t know what to do with that. I thought-thought it was too late.”

You shake your head, biting back tears of your own. “It’s not too late. It’s never been too late. I’m right here. I chose you. I’ve always chosen you.”

His whole body shudders as another sob escapes his throat, but this time it’s quieter, like the fight’s leaving him. His hand comes up, trembling, to rest against yours where you’re still holding his face. His skin is warm and damp under your touch, and he closes his eyes, like he’s trying to hold onto the moment, like it’s the only thing tethering him to the world.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, voice barely audible. “I-I don’t know why I-”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you whisper, feeling the burn of tears in your own eyes now. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

He exhales shakily, his forehead pressing against yours, and for a second, the world stills. The chaos of the after-party, the music, the laughter-it all fades away, leaving just the two of you in this dark, quiet space.

“Promise?” He asks, voice so small it makes your heart ache.

“I promise,” you whisper back. “Forever.”

He nods, but he doesn’t say anything more. You can feel the weight of his exhaustion now, the alcohol and emotions and everything else taking their toll on him. His arms snake around your waist, pulling you closer until your body is pressed against his, and for the first time all night, his breathing begins to steady. He’s still holding you like you’re the only thing keeping him from falling apart, and in that moment, you realize that maybe you are.

You sit there with him, in the dark, in the silence, just breathing together. And for now, that’s enough.

[readwritealldayallnight]

Love is a Verb

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

wc: 3k words

warnings/tags: fluff, allusions to smut, Simon gets in his feelings™️

It was the first time that you dropped a plate stacked high with heart-shaped pancakes in front of him, that you realized just how much Simon had been starved for love in his life.

“What’s this?” He asks, eyebrows scrunching in confusion, staring down at his plate as though it were a bomb in need of defusing.

“Breakfast? You’d mentioned pancakes the other day and I’ve been craving ‘em since.” You shrug, walking back towards the stovetop where the next batch are waiting to be flipped over.

“They’re- you’ve never-” You glance back over your shoulder at him, watching as he appears to struggle to find the words for what he means to say. He looks almost out of place, his large, hulking frame sitting at a breakfast table with flowers adorning it (he’s the one that brought you that bouquet, of course), his bed head on full display. “You’ve never made ‘em like this before.”

“What, like hearts?” You giggle, scooping up the last of the breakfast onto a plate, making your way back to the table, seeing Simon give you a nod in confirmation. “I just wanted spread some love to my love. Is that alright?”

Setting your plate down next to his, you go to take a seat before you feel two muscular arms wrapping around your middle, pulling you backwards and seating you onto his strong lap.

“‘Course s’alright.” He mumbles into your hair, pressing a kiss wherever his lips may land on you. From those two words alone, you can tell his throat is getting scratchy, and you almost think you hear the slightest sniffle coming from him. You can’t help the surprised blush that creeps through you. You weren’t expecting him to react this way. You’re willing to bet he also wasn’t expecting to react this way.

Knowing that communicating, as well as understanding, his feelings isn’t something that always comes with ease for Simon, you decide to give him a moment, not wanting to put him on the spot. You spread some maple syrup across your stack, tilting it in the direction of his plate and receiving a grunt of confirmation before you drizzle some onto his as well. Taking your cutlery in hand, enjoy your breakfast in quiet bliss, taking turns feeding bites to yourself and your shadow behind you, always receiving a loving squeeze to your thigh after each piece you slip between his lips.

“Mum never made anythin’ like this.” His revelation arrives just as your chewing on your last bite, stomachs content, hearts even more full. You can count on one hand the amount of times Simon has brought up his family to you. You’re aware of the circumstances, and while you don’t know every detail (nor do you need to), he has over time opened up to you about what happened. “Not ‘cause she didn’t love us. I think she would’ve if she-” he clears his throat, and you readjust yourself in his lap so that you can wrap your arms around his neck, leaning your head against his shoulders, rubbing reassuring circles into the muscles your hands come across.

You don’t want to overwhelm him by looking at him as he opens himself up to you, but you want to reassure him that you’re listening, you’re here with him. He can tell you as much or as little as he wants to, and you’ll listen.

“Beth did though. Once or twice.” He adds, resting his chin atop your head, running a hand through your hair. “I mean, I’m sure she did it more than that but, I saw her do it, once or twice. For Joseph.” Your grip around him tightens ever so gently at the mention of his late sister-in-law and nephew. You’ve never seen a picture of the boy, but you can just picture him, a small little blond head of hair, maybe with eyes like his, running around, keeping his young parents busy. Knowing the fate his family endured, a shiver runs through you, but you don’t let it overcloud the moment that Simon is sharing with you. Certainly not when it appears he’s thinking of them fondly right now, reflecting on his past with a happy lens.

“I’m sure he must’ve loved it.” You whisper into the skin of his neck, sending goose bumps sprawling across the flesh.

“He did. Tommy too.” At that he gives a slight chuckle, shaking the two of you. “Even when we were younger, he could always eat us out of house and home. Was like you couldn’t get anything to stick to his bones, either, that kid. More than half the time I wound up shop liftin’ it was to feed his skinny arse.” You sit there together for a moment, holding one another, basking in the newest glimpse of his past that Simon has just offered you.

“They would’ve loved you.” He mumbles into your hair, emotion evident in his voice, his grip on you tightening desperately, as though you two might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold you close enough. “Think you would’a liked em as well.” At that you pull away from his shoulder, slipping your hands to cradle each side of his face, bringing his forehead to meet yours.

“They loved you, Si. Of course I would love them too.” You whisper against his lips, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to each corner of his mouth, the top of his nose, each closed eyelid, before returning to his mouth.

It’s the next week when you decide to finally tackle the last of the moving boxes. You and Simon finally moved in together a few months ago now, and Simon seems to have placed more priority on ‘christening every room’ (also known as fucking you senseless over each and every available surface in the place) over unpacking.

The handful of boxes that are left are more of the miscellaneous, don’t really have anywhere to put them, sort of items that you can’t exactly part with but don’t have any real use for. Most of it being your stuff. His time in the military has left him without a need for many material items, and so you’re surprised to find a smaller box shoved to the back of the pile labeled as ‘Simon’.

Upon opening it, you find it contains a variety of what appears to be memorabilia he’s collected throughout his time in the military, small souvenirs from his travels, old folded up uniforms, and what not. But slipped between two folded shirts, you can feel something more sturdy. Carefully slipping it out of the box, you discover a frame containing a multitude of medals.

In spite of being in love with a Lieutenant, your knowledge of the military is still slim. You don’t recognize any of the medals shining up at you, but they are numerous, and you can tell they must be incredibly important, something he’s worked so hard to earn. Why is he keeping this tucked away?

“Hey Si!” You shout in hopes that he’s near enough to hear you.

“What are you up to now, mischief?” He asks, his tone playful as you hear his footsteps approaching. “Christ, we’ve still boxes left?”

“Acting as if you don’t purposefully walk around them every day.” You tease back, rolling your eyes at him. You stand up, turning to face him with the frame clutched to your chest. He takes you in and raises a brow in question as to your discovery. “What are these?”

He steps closer to glance at what you’re holding, shoulders tensing for a moment before releasing, letting out a deep sigh.

“Ah. S’nothin’.” He tries to reach to take it out of your grip, but you swing your arms behind your back, hiding it from his grasp.

“What do you mean nothing? Doesn’t look like nothing to me, mister award winner.”

“They’re not- I don’t-” he seems to struggle with his words, and it’s only then that you realize perhaps he doesn’t view these medals in the same way you do.

“Do you not like ‘em?” You ask, bringing the frame back around to your front, glancing down at them with a more quizzical eye this time.

“I just- I’m not always proud of how I earned em, love.” He attempts to explain, reaching a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “Some I reckon’ I don’t mind but- all just seems unnecessary to me. I did my job, all there is to it.”

“Are these like, the kind they have big ceremonies for and then someone pins them on you in front of everyone?”

“Somethin’ like that.” he grumbles, crossing his arms over his large chest.

“And let me guess, you never attended any of them?”

“Don’t need all the fanfare, lovie.” He says, stepping forward and slowly slipping the frame from your grasp, tossing it back into the box you’d found it in. “All I need’s right here.”

“I just wish you’d let yourself be celebrated sometimes too, Si…”

“Well if it’s celebratin’ my birdie is wantin’, how’s bout we go celebrate with you on top of the washing machine eh? Don’t think I’ve made you cum up there yet.” You roll your eyes at his changing of the subjects, but can’t contain the giggle that erupts out of you when he swings you over his shoulder, apparently having decided the laundry room is exactly where you two are going now. “Just put a load in the machine, only right I put a load in here too.” He adds with a smack to your ass.

You’re worried you’re about to make an absolute fool out of yourself. No, you’re sure you’re about to look like an idiot. You know how much that man loves you, but even this might be exaggerating. Glancing at the clock above the stove however, you know it’s now or never. The candles around the room have been lit, the lights are dimmed, his favourite meal is cooking in the oven, soft music is playing from the record player, you’re wearing Simon’s favourite dress on you, and you even went as far as to spruce up your hair and makeup for this. In theory, everything is perfectly set up and in its place.

So why then, do you feel so mortified as you hear the sound of keys jingling the lock at the front door? Oh right, because it’s him you’ve set this all up for.

“Hi sweetheart,” he shouts to you as he walks in, too preoccupied with removing his boots and gear to look up yet. “Smells really good, what’s-” He cuts himself off upon walking into the kitchen, eyes landing on the unusual scene before him. You watch as his irises glance around the room, taking it all in, before landing on you. He’s still stood a few feet away from you, but you swear you can see his pupils dilate as his eyes roam up and down your figure.

“Hi.” You whisper meekly to him, wringing your hands nervously behind your back.

“Hi.” He answers back, taking an apprehensive step towards you. “What’s all this then?”

“First you have to go get dressed.” You inform him, jutting your chin in the direction of your shared bedroom. The small smile working its way onto his face helps boost your confidence, nerves slowly dissipating.

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm. Even laid out your clothes for you, so you don’t have to think about it.”

“We goin’ somewhere?” He asks, beginning to undo his belt already. The movement catches your attention, likely his intention, and his smirk widens upon seeing you blush.

“Nope. We’re just celebrating at home.”

At this, he freezes his movements, belt halfway slipped out of his belt loops. His gaze scans your face, looking for anything he might have missed.

“Shit. Did I- did I forget something, baby? I did-”

“No, no no no!” You cut him off with a slight giggle, coming up to him now to lay your palms across his chest. “No, you’re okay Si. You didn’t forget anything, I’m just surprising you.” You reassure him, knowing that he only calls you baby when he’s worried he’s in trouble (or when he’s already in trouble, crouched between your thighs attempting to earn his way out of the dog house).

“You didn’t have to do any of this love.” He says, hands pulling the rest of his belt out, before he loops it around you, using it to pull you even closer to him.

“You don’t even know what I’ve done yet, mister. We’ll see if you still like me in a bit.” You stand up on your tippy toes, planting a kiss to his Adam’s apple, fingers reaching up to slowly lift the skull printed balaclava off his face. Your lips follow each inch of skin revealed as you finally slip the fabric off his visage, exposing the face of the man you love. “Now go get dressed before I change my mind.”

With a kiss to the forehead and a squeeze to the bum, your man releases you from his grasp to obediently follow your command, making his way towards the bedroom. Steeling yourself with a deep breath, you turn towards the cabinets, pulling out the secret you’d been hiding, the reason you’re doing any of this.

Minutes later, Simon is walking back into the room, dressed in form fitting black dress pants, and his large hands are finishing up the last few buttons of his white button-up shirt, the buttons appearing minuscule in his grasp. Your eyes land on his figure, and suddenly the smell of the food in the oven isn’t why your mouth is salivating so much. He glances up at you, eyes meeting and each of you fights off a small blush and a shy smile, as though you’re seeing your dates for the prom for the first time.

“You’re so handsome, Si.” You tell him, stepping closer to him.

“Think you’re just desensitized to me at this point, love.” He attempts to deflect, but you see the blush deepening across his pale cheeks. “Besides, I oughta be kissing the ground you walk on birdie, just look at ya…” He reaches a hand out towards yours, spinning you around gracefully, taking the time to admire you entirely.

The look in his eyes is glazing over, as he licks his lips, eyes unable to tear away from each inch of skin you have exposed. You’re equally become as hot and bothered, but you’ve got a goal tonight, and you want to see it through, for his sake.

“Before dinner, I uh- I wanted to do something for you.” You say, stepping back enough that your backside meets the edge of the counter top. Your hands feel behind you for what you’re looking for, hoping he can’t see what you’re attempting to conceal for just a little longer. “I don’t need to explain to you how hard you work, everywhere you go, you’re always taking care of others, Si. And you don’t get even nearly as much thanks as you should, and-”

“Love,” he tries to cut you off, stepping closer to you, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Hold on, I really want to say this. To do this.” He nods at your interjection, accepting to hear you through. “Ever since I met you, you’ve changed my life Simon Riley, and I know I’m not the only person in the world who can say that. You are a good man, a hero to many, a leader to others. You’re just- you are good, Si. I promise you are.”

You can’t help the emotion beginning to seep into your voice now, but it’s important to you that he hears every word you have to tell him, and that he knows you mean them.

“I don’t know everything you’ve done, and I don’t want to. Your job terrifies me, and every time you walk out the door I’m scared you’re going to get hurt but- you’re so good at what you do, Simon. They couldn’t do it without you. You’re important, you’re needed.” At this, you slip the frame of medals out from behind your back, bringing them in front of you for Simon to see. “That’s what these are, at least in my eyes. They’re reminders that you’re meant to be doing what you’re doing, but most importantly, they also mean you made it back. You made it back to me.”

His warm hand reaches out to brush away a stray tear that’s spilled over your lashes, his palm staying to cup your cheek affectionately.

“You’re right, we don’t need all the fanfare, all we need is right here. But some occasions call for a celebration. That’s why I’m hoping you’ll let me put these on you? Just once, just this one time, I just- I need you to know how important you and your accomplishments are to me.”

Wordlessly, he nods to you, his own eyes appearing to be brimming with emotion. Sniffling, you turn the frame over, opening up the back before carefully slipping it off. Your fingers gingerly pick up the first medal they find, bringing it up to his firm chest. You look into his eyes once more, ensuring that this is okay with him. All you see in his gaze is pure, undeniable love. One hand reaches between the fabric of his shirt and the warm, scarred skin across his pec, as the other brings the medal to the front of the button-up. With all the devotion and tenderness in the world, you secure the medal to his front, slowly slinking your hands away to see if it’ll stay in its place.

When the medal does not budge, you repeat the process over with the remaining medals, until one side of his shirt is significantly weighed down compared to the other side, and both your hearts are bursting with affection for the human being stood before you. Sliding your now empty hands up his shoulders, his calloused palms resting on either side of your waist, his eyes communicate to you everything that his lips will never need to tell you. You know him. And you know what you mean to him. That’s why as he shuts his eyes and presses a kiss to your forehead, you find yourself whispering the sentence you hope to tell him every day of your life:

“I love you too.”

[subbmissivesuccubus]

Rut

Summary: The Hero is in heat thanks to his quirk and you, being a good wife, decide to help him through it. Unfortunately for you, you severely underestimated just how difficult ‘helping’ him would be.

A/N: Another Patreon request! I don't watch MHA but I always loved Hawks design so this was fun to write!

Disclaimer : Hawks X Fem reader. Overstimulation. Marathon sex. Rut.

“Baby- baby wait- fuck- don’t come closer!”

You froze, your hand stilled on the doorknob, about to open said door before you heard your husband call out to you from behind it.

“Keigo, what’s wrong?” you asked, listening to his wishes for the moment, “Did something happen? Are you hurt?!”

You felt your heartbeat fasten a bit, your mind conjuring up a multitude of scenarios. Being a Hero was no joke and you couldn’t count the many nights where you sat glued to the TV, heart pounding as you wondered if your husband was coming home that night alive.

“I- I’m fine baby. I’m not hurt.” He called out, making you sigh with relief, “but really- I can’t explain it but- I- I need to be alone.”

“Keigo, I love you and I would never do anything to make you uncomfortable.” You said, “but I am not leaving until I see you and make sure you’re ok for myself. I’m opening the door!”

“No- wai-“

But before he could get the word out, you pulled the handle and pushed the door open, eyes widening as you walked into…uh…

A huge mess of a room. The sheets were all pulled out and thrown around, the pillows were ripped up with feathers all over the bed. Your closet doors were thrown open and your clothes were all taken out, including your undergarments. On the bed, in the middle of all of the mess, was your husband, seemingly buried under a giant pile of your clothes. His usually styled hair was all over the place, adding onto the crazed look in his eyes and the flushed face. He was sweating profusely, hair matted onto his forehead, his eyebrows furrowed with an expression on his face that looked like he was in pain. His wings were wrapped around himself, feather shivering underneath the clothes.

“Fuck…” he cursed as he saw you, tossing his head back against the pillow made of your clothes.

“…What’s going on?” you asked, truly confused. You husband groaned loudly from under his cocoon, burying his head farther down the pile until you couldn’t even see him anymore, just his wings.

“…I’m in a rut.” He finally said, his voice muffled.

“What was that?”

“A. Rut.” He repeated louder.

“You mean…like…” you said, having heard the phrase before, “Like mating season?”

Hawks growled even louder, “Yes- fuck- my body is on overdrive and my dick is constantly hard. It sucks! I tried to calm myself down by jerking off and nesting with your clothes but- fuck me- it isn’t working.”

“So that’s what this is…” you said, at least getting an answer about the mess, “I’ve never seen you like this before. Is this the first time it’s happening?”

“…No. It happens every year.”

“What?! How have I never noticed it?”

“Because…I send you away. I buy you vacations to g-get you out of the house. S-Speaking of which- why are you back so early?! Your trip should have ended n-next week!”

“My dad fell sick so we had to cut things short.” You explained, wondering why you never questioned Keigo’s generosity in sending you on trips during the same time every year, “I can’t believe you kept this from me!”

“I’m sorry baby but-“ he hissed as his body shivered for no reason, “The rut can be…a lot to handle. My body just wants to fuck and fuck and fuck until my bones give out! It’s not pretty…”

“Then why do you not want me here?” you asked, still keeping your distance as you didn’t want to overwhelm your man, “I could help!”

That finally got him to push his head out of his wings enough for him to give you a look that said ‘you can’t be serious’. “Baby- you pass out after three rounds. There’s no way you can handle me when I’m like this.”

You gasped, an offended hand on your chest, “That’s not true- I mean- yes maybe- but my husband is in pain! What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t even try?”

Before he could even say anything, you grabbed your coat and shrugged it off of you, making him gasp as the fabric fell to the ground. You were just about to pull your dress off when Keigo broke out of his cocoon and surged forward so fast you could barely process it. He gripped you by the collar and pulled you towards him, the man still kneeling on the bed but even so, his face was in line with yours.

“You really- really don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.” He growled, looking more animalistic than you’ve ever seen him. You gulped as you felt his hot breath fan your face, the look in his eyes making you shiver. You sex life was perfectly fine and quite satisfying but even through your years long relationship, you’d never seen him have this look- this ferocity- this…desperation in his eyes.

You felt your pussy quiver already, Keigo hissing as he saw your pupils dilate.

“I’m serious!” he said, grunting as he could smell the heat off of you, trying his best to not jump you and rip your clothes off, “This won’t be normal. I’ll go round after round- constantly fucking you and cumming inside you- You can beg me to stop but once I start- there’s no stopping.”

You gulped, hands going back to your dress to start unravelling it.

“Baby- take this seriously!” Keigo snapped, frustrated, “I know you think it’s all fun and games but- but-“

His thought trailed off as you managed to push your dress off of your shoulders, the fabric falling in a heap on the floor, leaving you clad in your underwear.

“…Fuck it.”

You squealed as your husband grabbed you by the hips, picking you up enough to turn around and throw you onto the bed, making you crash into your pile of clothing. You licked your lips as he all but pounced on you, the man making work of his pants as he pressed his lips against your, stealing your breath away.

This was going to be a long night~

~~~~~

Slurp “Ah baby-“ Mwah schuck shuck “Just like that- fuck me- keep pumping that cock- mmmph~”

You gasped as Keigo latched onto your nipple mercilessly, suckling on you like a baby as he lied down on the bed, torso supported on your lap, wings and all. Your left hand pumped his hard member as he suckled on you, pre-cum dripping down it like a faucet, making his dick so slick- it was like you had lathered it with lube.

His cock was hot and needy, the tip so red you wondered if it hurt. He was panting against you like a dog in heat- but it was rather a bird in heat. Your nipple was slick with saliva, drool dripping down the curve of your tit. He was sucking on your sensitive bud so hard it took your breath away, you bare pussy gushing at his moans.

Both of you were stark naked, clothes tossed all over the place and in definite need of a wash once this was over. Your spine shivered as Keigo moaned against your nipple, biting down on it gently when your hand paid special attention to the tip of his cock.

“Babe- fuck- gonna cum!”

“Wh- already?” you asked, surprised. It wasn’t even five minutes since you got your hands on him. He groaned in frustration against you, giving your nipple another bite before he simply snuggled his face between your tits, sighing happily as he felt the weight of them against him.

“I’ll cum fast but- mmph- I’ll cum a lot- oh fuck- yes- yes- cumming- cumming!”

With a shout, Hawks arched his back as he climaxed, making you gasp as ropes and ropes of cum shot out of his tip. Your eyes widened at the amount, a seemingly never-ending stream of white ejaculated out of his cock and onto your hands, coating your fingers. Some of his cum spurt out with such force it stained his chest and a bit of his chin. He moaned loudly- shamelessly as he shivered from the pleasure, his balls throbbing from each pump of his cum.

Eventually, he relaxed a bit, taking in deep breaths as he snuggled his face harder against your breasts, a happy grin on his face. You blinked as you pulled you hand away from his cock, gulping at the sheer amount of cum on your fingers. Your whole hand was covered, webs of cum created as your spread your fingers apart. It looked like twice- maybe even thrice the amount of semen your husband would usually let out when he came.

“…The tissues are in the bedside drawer.” Keigo said, smirking at your shocked expression and getting off of you long enough for you to get the box of tissues and wipe your hand clean.

“Let’s go again.” He demanded, his hand groping at his still hard cock, looking at you like you were her prey, “I want to taste that pussy.”

~~~~~

“Ah- Ah- fuck- honey- right there!”

Hawks moaned against you, shaking his head from left to right, tongue dragging across every inch of your sopping cunt, “Here? Yeah?”

He gulped down your juices like he was a man dying of thirst, his hand in between his legs as he jerked off. Suckling on your nipples and getting a handjob was amazing- but he could never deny himself the pleasure of lapping at your cunt while he touched himself. It was one of his favourite hobbies.

“God- I love this pussy- love this pussssy so much~” he groaned, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he sealed his slick lips around your clit and gave it a toe-curling suck, your cries tuned out over the sound of him slobbering all over you. It was messy and sloppy but oh so good! You arched your back, your hands tangled in his hair and you wondered if you wanted to push him away or pull him in even more. The sloppy sound of him sucking you up and drinking your juices made your face turn so red, it reached your ears, the noises and moans leaving your mans mouth making your heart rate increase.

Was he in heat or was it you?

Keigo stuck his tongue out lewdly and started flicking at your clit, pumping his cock in time with every movement, your little bud at his mercy. His feathers shook with the force of his hand, the man moaning against your clit and making your ears ring from the sensation. He once again opened his mouth wide before he took your whole pussy in his mouth, making out with her like he does with you.

“Keigoooo- oh God- s-slow down!” you whined, trembling underneath his merciless actions. He shook his head no against you, once again dragging his tongue all over you. He sucked your pussy lips into his mouth for a second before he said:

“No stopping. No slowing down. Now- cum in my mouth.”

~~~~~

“Fuuuck!” Keigo gasped as he couldn’t control his hips as he started pumping into your mouth, “Take it- take it- take my fucking cock!”

You gagged around your husband’s member, his dick pumping in and out of your throat, fucking it like it was your cunt. Having you lying on your back with your head leaning over the edge, you felt his balls clap against your forehead as Keigo fucked into your face, blood rushing to your head. The position gave you no choice but to take it- saliva and spittle leaving your mouth and dripping upwards. Your pussy quivered from the ghost of your orgasm, the sensation of his tongue on your slit still lingering and the warmth of the semen he splashed over your cunt making you tingle. You were stained with copious amounts of his seed, his second orgasm just as explosive as the first one and your whole pussy was covered in white.

It was only a matter of time before it was pumped inside.

Gawk Gawk gawk- hah- slurp- slurp- gawk

“Fuck baby- I can see my cock- fuuuck- imprint on your throat! It’s so hot!”

You could only imagine the view. Your tits bouncing up and down with the force of his thrusting- your neck stretched to accommodate the position which made it more evident when the bulge of his member showed up. He hissed as his hands went to your chest, squeezing your jugs and using them as leverage to pump faster against you.

“Y-You ok baby?” he asked, mind dizzy from the pleasure, surprised that he was still able to string sentenced together, “You can take it- ah- right?”

You gurgled around his cock, the vibrations making his knees buckle as he picked up the pace. Drool coated his balls, his sack slapping against your face harder as he mercilessly pumped into you, chasing his pleasure. You squealed as he suddenly pushed himself as deep as he could go and stayed there, your nose pressing against his nuts as his hands left your tits to instead reach for your legs. Your back arched off the bed, eyes watering as his cock was pushed impossibly deep, your fingers gripping the sheets below you tightly as he spread your knees apart, baring him your cum stained pussy. You squealed, eyes rolling to the back of your head as his hand slipped between your legs, fingers gliding between your pussy lips as he sought out your dripping hole.

“Ah- fuck baby- let me- mmmph- stretch this cunt out for my cock~”

~~~~~

Plap plap plap plap plap

  Your fingers dug into the skin of Keigos back- well- as much as you could considering the wings sprouting from his back. Said wings were slightly flapping, almost helping him thrust into your cunt with as much force as possible. Legs wrapped around his waist, your moans were swallowed by his tongue down your throat, your husbands’ eyes open and drinking in your fucked out expression even as he pounded you.

His balls clapped against your ass as his fat, throbbing cock pumped in and out of you, the drag of his veiny member against the ribbed texture of your cunt making both of you groan from the pleasure. You gasped as you broke the kiss, turning you head away so you could get a second to catch your breath. You felt him licking your skin to occupy his mouth, grateful that he was giving you a moment to collect yourself even as his tongue dragged over your cheek and upto your ear. You shivered as he ran his tongue along your ear before sticking it inside, the sensation making your whole body shudder.

After swallowing his cum (to the best of your abilities) and cumming around his fingers, Keigo didn’t give you even a second before he changed positions, spreading your legs so he could slide his cock inside your poor, sensitive pussy. His hips moved like a machine, rutting into you like it was the last thing he’d do. You gasped as the curve of his cock constantly hit your special spot each time he thrust in, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the sensation.

…maybe you did bite off more than you could chew.

~~~~~

“Haa-aa-aawks!” you called out, voice jumping from the force of his thrusting. He simply grunted in response; his cock somehow still rock hard as he took you from behind. The cum he had dumped into your pussy was leaking out and staining the sheets, but he didn’t really care. He was going to pump another load into you afterall.

“B-Break- fuck- I need a b-break!” you pleaded, ass clapping back against his hips, his mouth watering at the ripple of your plush skin.

“No way.” He growled, raising a hand and smacking your ass cheek, loving your squeal as he left a handprint behind, “I warned you. We’re not fucking stopping!”

Your hands couldn’t hold you up anymore, elbows giving in as your torso fell to the mattress, leaving you face down, ass up. You panted against the pillow as the position somehow drove his cock deeper inside you, his cum staining your thighs and his balls. His cock was practically covered in white, Keigo churning up the semen inside of you and it was so filthy, it made your head spin.

“Fuck- gonna cum baby!” he cried out as he felt his balls tighten, the familiar sensation of an oncoming orgasm making his body tingle, “Pump this pussy with my seed- let’s get you pregnant, ok?”

You simply moaned against the pillow; your noises muffled by the fabric as tears left your eyes. Your eyes widened and you shrieked as Keigo leaned over you and slid his hand down to your cunt, his fingers easily finding your clit.

“Ah- ah- Kei- fuck!” you panted against the pillow, your body going into overdrive as he started swiping at your sensitive, swollen bud, “too much- too- ah- fuck!”

The two of you climaxed simultaneously, the familiar sensation of your husband pumping copious amounts of cum inside you pushed you to your orgasm, your pussy squirting and spraying liquid all over the mattress.

You collapsed flat on the bed, eyes rolled to the back of your head as your pussy throbbed, Keigos’ cum seeping out of you like a flood. You didn’t need to look back to know he was still hard and ready to go again.

“…Spread your legs. I need to eat out your asshole.”

“Wh- Keigo- eep!”

You squealed as the man gripped onto your ass cheeks before spreading them apart, exposing your puckered rim to him before he surged forward, planting his face right between your cheeks. You babbled at he started greedily lapping at your hole, shamelessly moaning as he tasted you. You shrieked, body once again getting overstimulated as his ran his tongue over your rim. The two of you dabbled in a bit of anal over the years but never in such a…desperate manner.

He smacked your ass before he shook his head between your cheeks, motorboating you butt as he played with you like a toy, his cock hard and leaking between his legs.

You tried to remember where you kept the lube.

~~~~~

The sun was up.

Fuck.

The sun was rising.

And you two were still having sex.

Well, Hawks was. You passed out during the middle of things and you had given him permission to use you even after you blacked out. Your body really couldn’t take any more orgasms and it shut down at some point.

You awoke with a start, several sensations hitting you all at once, making your head spin. You were lying on top of Keigo, your head nestled against his neck as he pumped his hips up and into you. You gasped as you felt the burn of his cock in your ass, his thick member stretching out your barely used hole. The glide was significantly easier than the first time he fucked your ass tonight thanks to all the cum lubing you up.

“L-Last one baby!” Keigo panted, somehow looking stunning even through the many hours of sex and orgasms, “Ready? Yeah? Want my cum?”

“H-Hurry up…” you groaned, your body still weak and tingly from when you passed out. You had lost count of the number of times you came as well as the number of times Keigo came. You stopped counting after six. Your body was fucked within an inch of its life and you had no more energy and so, you simply lied on top of him like a ragdoll, panting against his neck as he embraced you tightly. His hips bucked up into you, his thighs flexing deliciously as he chased his pleasure.

“Cumming- fuck- cumming!!”

With a final shout, his head tossing back and eyes rolling to the back of his head, Hawks came one more time. You mewled as his seed filled you up but you noted that it was significantly less that what you had endured all night. You felt his chest deflate, like a load was taken off of his shoulders (and his balls), the man finally relaxing.

“Fuuuck…” he said, gently pulling his cock out of you and thankfully, he was now soft, “That was…insane…”.

You nodded against him, grimacing as you finally got a second to note the condition of your body, i.e. covered in sweat and cum and stuffed full of semen that was continuously leaking out of you.

“Y-You ok baby?” Keigo asked and you couldn’t help but smile. He was clearly trying to fight sleep, his rut having left him and rendering him exhausted yet satisfied, no longer tormented by the heat.

“I’ll be ok.” You said, kissing his neck, “…But no sex for a month. I think I almost died.”

You felt his chuckle rumble in his chest, “I warned you, baby bird.”

“Mmmm. You did.”

“Speaking of baby, you’re probably knocked up, right?”

“…Probably.”

“…Nice.”

[distantdarlings]

LIKE HE BELONGED THERE // m. riddle

RATING: R / 6K WORDS

Mattheo Riddle x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this and this* After being friends for a while, Mattheo decides to kick your relationship up a notch at the upcoming Halloween party.

+ WARNINGS - Fem!Reader, unprotected PIV, oral sex (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, soft dom!Mattheo, sub!reader, overstimulation, fingering (f!receiving), slight cum play, creampie, mentions of alcohol, mentions of weed, language, not fully proof-read (lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

headache - asal

- - -

Your heels scraped the stone stairs as you bounded down them, excited to start the day.

Generally, you weren’t too happy about having to get up every morning and attend your classes, but today was a Friday. And not only was today a Friday, it was the last Friday before Halloween. And you were well acquainted with what that meant—the annual Hogwarts Halloween party was tonight.

It was easily one of your favorite nights of the school year. Between the costumes, the snuck-in Firewhisky, the snacks, and the dancing, you weren’t sure what the best part of it was. Either way, you always made sure you went all out.

You walked through the doors of the Great Hall, searching for your group of friends. They generally sat directly across from one of the large hearths placed throughout the room.

Above, Halloween decorations floated and dangled—creepy spiderwebs and jack-o-lanterns littered the magical skyline that cracked with faux lightning. Damn, you loved this school.

Excitement floated in your stomach.

You jogged over to your friends where they sat gathered closely around each other, munching on bits of breakfast and likely discussing their costumes for tonight.

All of their eyes came up to meet yours as you selected a seat next to Angelina Johnson and grabbed a muffin from the ornate bowl in the center of the table.

“Are you ready for tonight?” she asked, smiling widely.

“Am I? I’ve been fucking pumped all year!” you laughed. “I’m assuming you’ve all prepared your costumes for tonight?”

“If you can even call them costumes,” Ginny Weasley chuckled quietly.

“Oh, shut up!” Lavender Brown scoffed, shoving her shoulder. “Just because you’re as modest as a damn nun, doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be.”

“I don’t think your costume is simply immodest, Lavender,” Angelina joked, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. You turned to look at the girl.

“Wait—what’s it look like? I haven’t seen it yet,” you cocked your head. Lavender tended to have a bit of a penchant for flashy Halloween costumes, but you couldn’t remember a time in years past when the other girls were this interested in what it was.

Lavender produced a cutout picture.

“It’s just a rabbit costume…,” she shrugged, scoffing as if it was inconceivable that she’d be made fun of for her outfit. An outfit that was…definitely immodest.

The photo seemed to come from a wizarding catalog for lingerie, where the model depicted had simple bunny makeup and a pair of fuzzy ears strapped to a headband atop her curly hair. She wore what looked like a fuzzy bra and panty set with a fluffy cotton tail. The woman danced seductively in the moving picture.

“Lav, I think this is lingerie,” you said.

Angelina and Ginny burst out laughing as Lavender cried out. She snatched the photo back away from you, folded it, and shoved it in her robe pocket. Pouting, she placed her hand on her fist and looked away.

“I’m sorry, but I think you may have outdone yourself this year,” you laughed, tears welling in your eyes.

“Oh, fuck off!” she growled. “What are you all going to wear?”

“I’m just wearing my Quidditch jersey,” Ginny shrugged.

“Ugh, boring! You did that last year.” Angelina rolled her eyes. Ginny didn’t seem to care. “Anyways, I’m going as a pirate. I’ve got like an eyepatch and stuff—ooh! I’ve also got a sword.”

Everyone nodded, agreeing that she may have the best costume this year—as she did every year.

“What about you?” Ginny nodded toward you, absentmindedly picking at the food left on her plate.

“I’m being a cat this year. I went the sort of ‘slutty’ route like Lavender.”

The girl mentioned groaned and set her head down on the table. You should stop teasing her but it was just too easy. Besides, she knew you loved her.

While the conversation and picking across nibbles of breakfast continued, you eventually heard a few sharp steps behind you on the rough stone floor.

Just as you were about to turn to catch a glimpse of who it may be, a warm hand tugged on your right earlobe. You gasped and turned to see who belonged to the fingers curled against your skin.

Mattheo turned and sat just beside you, back against the table and arm resting comfortably on the table in front of you. You faked an annoyed groan and rolled your eyes.

“Ugh, look who it is!” you sighed sarcastically.

Ginny and Angelina seemed to sneer and look away before continuing their conversation privately, while Lavender seemed to swoon just a bit over the dark boy next to you.

“I was wondering when I was going to run into you,” he spoke, smirking as he caught the reactions of your friends to him in the corner of your eye.

“Oh, yeah? You think about me that much?” you teased, turning your body more toward him.

“You could say that,” he snorted. “I was wondering what your plans were for this evening?”

“Well, I planned to head down to Hogsmeade to catch a Butterbeer after classes and grab a few more things for my costume. Want to come?”

“Will your friends be coming?” he asked, nodding his jaw toward the girls behind you.

“Yes, we will! We all will! So, it’ll be kind of crowded. You might want to sit this one out,” Angelina interrupted, nodding enthusiastically. You rolled your eyes at her, shoving an elbow back against her ribs.

“Right, I think I will,” he laughed. “Your friends aren’t exactly my choice of company.”

Angelina stuck her tongue out at the boy who rolled his eyes in response.

“We’ll see you tonight, alright?” Ginny said. You nodded as she and Angelina stood and headed out the door. Lavender slid farther down the bench and set her chin in her hands.

“I don’t mind if you come, Mattheo,” she said sweetly, ogling him like a prize.

Mattheo stood and leaned over the table a bit, looking over her. “I appreciate it, baby. But, I think I’ll skip.” He brushed a gentle finger against her chin before heading out the door.

Lavender sat there gobsmacked, watching you like she couldn’t believe what had just happened. Mattheo was a natural flirt—you’d seen it a thousand times over. You weren’t shocked.

“I think he’s in love with me,” she gasped.

“Whatever,” you laughed, before getting up as well to head to your first period.

***

By the time your classes were over, you were practically bouncing out of your seat with energy. You couldn’t wait to stuff your face with all of the autumnal foods and dance until you felt sick.

You knew by the time the next morning hit, you’d be regretting your choices from the night before, just as you always did. But you never cared, because it was so damn fun.

Now, rushing to catch up with your friends who were already halfway down the cobbled path to Hogsmeade, you could feel the excitement bubbling up through your throat.

“Guys! You ready?” you shouted, waving above your head.

“Hell yeah!” Angelina stopped and hollered back.

Ginny whooped loudly and Lavender jumped into the air. You hadn’t seen them this pumped since last year when Gryffindor won the House Cup.

You caught up with them by slamming against Angelina with the force of the downhill stairs, giggling wildly.

The four of you made your way down the rest of the path, fingertips scraping along flaming lilies that grew along the stone, and skirts hovering gently in the soft breeze.

The feeling of autumn was finally beginning to set in around the campus—smokey air, white skies, crunchy leaves fluttering about. It was one of your favorite times of year—the castle always stood out like a painting. You glanced back at it, appreciating its beauty against the fading skyline.

“It’s getting darker sooner,” Lavender noted, stopping just before the door to the Three Broomsticks. Ginny pranced forward and grabbed ahold of the large metal handle, pulling the heavy oak open steadily. She held it as everyone headed in, shivering slightly at the change in temperature.

“Practice will likely be moved up soon, just because of the light,” Angelina said, more to Ginny than you or Lavender. You hadn’t picked up a broom since Flying class and Lavender wouldn’t be caught in the athletic changing rooms.

The two of them were both hell of a player, each with their own set of skills and unique style. Angelina was the captain and you imagined Ginny was next in her footsteps.

You took a table near the back and ordered two rounds of Butterbeer until the grandfather clock in the corner chimed five times.

At that point, you dropped a few coins on the table and followed the other girls out the door.

You stopped on the way back to the castle at a little convenience store stuck to the side of a little wand repair shop. The woman who worked the counter there—not much older than you were—always looked like she absolutely hated her life, so you attempted to crack a few jokes any time you entered the store. Every once and a while, she’d break a slight smile and today was one of those days. To you, that was proof that tonight was going to be an amazing party.

You grabbed a few bits of makeup and Lavender grabbed many bits of makeup and a few things for her hair, while Ginny and Angelina selected “snacks” to pregame the party with. If you were any dumber, you wouldn’t have known that the chips and gummies they selected were infused with a few special herbs designed to make the light a little less harsh. You rolled your eyes at them.

After you’d checked out and made it back to the castle, Ginny and Angelina had already dug into their special treats while you and Lavender had settled onto her bed and began dressing up.

You had managed a cute makeup look with a winged eyeliner, drawn-on whiskers and cat nose, and dark lipstick. All together, you hadn’t done too badly even with minimal help from Lavender.

Of course, when you’d glanced over at her, she’d almost completely finished her look—an extremely detailed, but sexy rendition of a bunny—by the time you’d only finished the eyeliner. She was a pro.

After that, she’d helped you pull your hair into a curled updo and fasten the little cat ears to the top of your head.

You’d pulled a long-sleeved black v-neck on and a skimpy black skirt you’d borrowed from a Slytherin friend. All things considered, you thought you looked pretty damn good.

“Wow, you look hot!” Angelina said. Her eyes had already started to lid over. Ginny smiled lazily, tossing her hand in the air and throwing a thumbs-up at you.

“Thanks!” you giggled. Though it was a simple outfit, you felt sexy. There was proof that pulling a shirt collar down over your breasts and wearing a short skirt with fishnets underneath could put you on top of the world. At least, for you.

Lavender walked around the corner and struck a pose. She looked…exactly like the model did.

“Lav, you look amazing, but you’ll be lucky if a professor doesn’t send you back to the dorm!” you laughed. Ginny and Angelina snorted at your words, guffawing obnoxiously.

“Well, then I guess we’ll see if I get lucky,” she said, smirking. “Or we’ll see if I get lucky another way.”

“Oh, brother,” Ginny groaned, rubbing her reddened eyes.

In the meantime, she had managed to slip her Quidditch jersey and a pair of jeans on. She looked really well for such a simple costume. Somehow, despite her wobbly legs, Angelina had managed to wrap a cushioned skirt around her waist—deep red in color and fastened with a thick brown belt that held a fake sword—and pull a billowy white shirt over her head. She slipped a leather corset around her torso, put an eyepatch on, and tied a striped bandana around her braided hair.

“Angie, your tits look amazing!” Ginny laughed. Murmurs of agreement passed around the room at the beautiful woman who bowed a few times.

“Well, are we heading down or not?” you smiled, throwing an arm around Lavender’s glittered shoulder. The other two girls nodded and followed you out of the dormitory.

The Halloween party was being held in the Slytherin common room this year. The location of the event tended to shift around the castle, but it had been held there a couple of years ago also. And, if you remember correctly, it had been your favorite venue so far.

You could remember the lights and the music and the reflection of the Black Lake outside the windows. That party was the one you’d really talked to Mattheo for the first time.

You’d chatted over pumpkin juice and bumped shoulders along the dance floor, connecting in ways you never thought a Slytherin and Gryffindor could. He’d made you smile and laugh so hard, the snacks settled in your hands had been abandoned so you could walk around the lake with him.

It was easily one of your favorite memories of the school. Oftentimes, it tended to float back into your head whilst you were sad or daydreaming about swimming in the lake.

As you slipped into the dungeon entrance, you were immediately taken aback by the aura of hundreds of treats, flashing lights, and loud music. Beside you, Lavender giggled giddily and shook your arm. Ginny and Angelina chatted back and forth, their voices slowly being more and more drowned out by the music.

To say that you’d been waiting for this party since last year’s was an understatement. Every year, the students who threw this together outdid themselves even further than they had the year before. And it had gotten so big that the professors had just stopped trying to shut it down and, instead, stationed a few of their own about the halls, just to ensure nothing particularly criminal was happening.

On your way to the party, you’d already glimpsed Hagrid’s towering body attempting to hide behind one of the gigantic stone torches lining the walls.

You’d thrown a wave at him and giggled as he pretended not to see you, as he was meant to be spying rather than clearly supervising.

Before you even had a chance to grab a drink from one of the tables set up, Mattheo Riddle swooped in beside you and threw an arm around you.

“My, mama, you are looking ravishing tonight,” he smirked, eyeing you up and down like a treat.

You giggled in response and placed a playful slap on his arm. “Whatever. What are you supposed to be?”

“I’m a vampire, can’t you tell?” he asked, holding his arms up to display his outfit.

All he wore was a black dress shirt, only partially buttoned, with matching slacks, and a bit of fake blood scattered across his lips. To be honest, you couldn’t really tell.

“I mean…it’s definitely a Halloween costume. I’m just not sure it screams ‘vampire,’” you responded. “It needs some fangs or a cape or something.”

“My natural ones not enough?” he teased, pressing a tongue against his sharp canines. You rolled your eyes, though a bit of an inappropriate thought rolled through your head at the small gesture. You shook it off, ashamed a thought like that would even pop up for someone like one of your best friends.

They’d happened before, but you weren’t one to listen to or act on intrusive thoughts.

You rolled your eyes and pulled away from him. “Well, what do you think of mine? I’m a cat!”

“I figured, baby,” he said. He glanced down your body once more, not even slightly attempting to conceal his gaze.

Without taking his eyes from you, he reached behind him and selected a cup waiting on the table. He leaned in to hand it to you, pressing his lips near your ear. He placed the drink in your fingers.

His voice was rough against the backdrop of the pounding music. “Wanna dance?”

“You think you can handle all this?” you giggled.

“What, you think I don’t know my way around a little pussy?” he asked, glaring down at you. Your eyes widened as your breath caught in your throat.

“Mattheo, you—” you gasped, nearly sending your cup toppling to the floor.

“I’m picking on you,” he laughed. He slid his hand around your waist and pulled you tightly against his body. The thin material of your skirt and tights was hardly enough to ward off the feeling of his hips against you. A shock of pleasure radiated through your body, eliciting chills down your arms.

Confidently, he gripped the red solo cup by the rim and quickly swallowed the contents in one go. The colored lights flickering overhead illuminated the swell of his throat as it pulsed with each swallow.

You weren’t sure why but that kept the fire in your stomach kindled.

Once done, he crumpled the cup in his hand and tossed it back toward the table. All the while, his hand never left your waist.

“Let’s dance, baby,” he whispered into your ear, liquid confidence already firing up in his mouth.

You repeated his actions, lifting your cup to your lips, swallowing as quickly as you could, and feeling the sudden buzz within your head. It was a small one, but definitely enough to push a little bit of urgency into your actions.

You grabbed onto his hand and tugged him deeper into the dance floor. As you moved past each swaying, grinding figure on the floor, you could feel your audacity building with each step.

With every press of your hand into his, you could feel sparks glowing from within your stomach. The feeling of his skin on yours—no matter how minute—had an effect on you. It always had.

You stopped once in the center and turned towards Mattheo. With a gentle smirk on your face, you pulled your hands above your head and began to sway slowly.

Your hips curved downwards and then back up. The lights flickered over your body, putting every seductive detail on display for the ravenous boy before you. You hoped that this would be enough to get the attention you’d been desperate for months.

The thoughts of lust that had entwined themselves around your brain had finally tightened themselves to their fullest. All you could think was Mattheo. All you could see was Mattheo. All you could hear, feel… Mattheo, Mattheo, Mattheo…

At the sight of your swaying body before him, Mattheo had no control over his desire. He’d held himself back for years, not wanting to scare you off. Wanting to get closer to you and treat you right. Wanting to do whatever he needed to do to get a taste of you.

His hand snaked back around your waist. He turned you into him, pressing your back against his chest. He moved his hips along you, grinding lazily against your ass.

Shock and pleasure coiled against the wall of your stomach, while the strong alcohol you’d down only moments ago began to dim the lights a bit.

If there was one thing Ravenclaw was good for, it was whipping up the strongest Firewhisky you’d ever tasted. One shot usually did you in.

His lips caressed over your ear, whispering sweet nothings. Over the music, it was hard to make out everything he said, but wisps of your hips, of your ass, of your legs echoed in your mind.

Chills flowed down the length of your exposed arms as he traced a finger down them. His hand interlocked with yours overtop the back, palm pressed against your knuckles.

He pulled your hand upwards and hooked it around the back of his neck. Instinctually, your fingers curled in the dark strands of hair down the back of his neck.

Your fingernails scraped against his scalp. He echoed your actions with a quiet groan, punctuating them with a chaste kiss against the connection of your jaw and neck. You sighed, clutching your fingers even tighter.

Your ass rolled against his front, urging a hardened point up from between his legs. You smirked at the effect you were having on him.

Suddenly, he spun you around, seemingly angry that you were affecting him so strongly. He pulled your chest into his and locked his hands onto your ass. The tips of his fingers hooked under the line of your fishnets right where your skimpy shorts ended. His strong hands pulled you as close to him as you would go, your hands tucked into between the two of you.

You gasped as your breasts pressed tightly against him, pushing your cleavage up to be even more exposed.

“Told ya I knew my way around some pussy,” he growled in your ear. You shuddered against him.

You forced forward some more confidence and leaned against his cheek. “I don’t know if I believe you. As far as I can tell, you haven’t handled anything. Your hands have stayed front and center.”

“Yeah? You want my hands, mama?” The tips of his fingers trailed down your sides, drawing every bit of pent-up energy to the forefront. As he reached your waist, his fingers found your wrists and eased them above your head.

For a split second, he caught both of your wrists wrapped into his singular hand. With his free hand, he obtained a firm grip on your ass and moved his hips against yours to the beat of the music. You giggled, embarrassed at the blunt boy.

He released your arms and they landed around his neck. He smiled cockily, flashing sharpened fangs. You wondered what they’d feel like crushing against your neck.

A laugh bubbled up your throat and you leaned back against Mattheo’s supportive arms to release it.

Your neck was exposed to the open air, enlightening sparks of glitter, and that was the last straw for Mattheo. At the sight of your body splayed out before him, arched against his abdomen, and relying fully on his strength, he couldn’t control himself any longer.

Ignoring all pre-conceived boundaries in your relationship with him, he leaned forward against you and pressed hot lips against your collarbone.

You gasped aloud at the sensation, not expecting to feel his mouth on you. Whispers of freshly-shaven stubble caressed your flesh. His breath plumed against your neck as he mouthed kisses against you.

He slowly worked his way upward until he reached the base of your neck, then abandoned his lips in favor of his tongue, which he traced delicately up the line of your throat.

Your head tilted forward to match the speed with which he licked against your skin.

Once he reached your chin, you were back to making full eye contact. You hoped that you weren’t completely flushed and wide-eyed, but you knew that couldn’t be true. Even through your makeup, you were sure that shock and embarrassment were shining bright.

His eyes were lidded, a small smirk curving his lips. He looked fucking breathtaking.

You refused to let him take you by such surprise, though and opted to return the sexually-charged favor.

Interlinking your fingers behind his neck, you pulled his lips to yours.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t as shocked as you’d been hoping and melded his lips against yours without skipping a beat. Like he’d been waiting for it—anticipating the moment you’d finally drop all of your pride and force your tongue into his mouth.

His hands wrapped around you, settling one on your hip, one splayed against your back. Now that he had your lips right where he wanted them, there was no way he’d let you pull away. He’d been waiting for this for months.

Your hands wrapped around the throat of his collar and, without pulling your mouth from his, began to walk backward. He followed willingly, hands refusing to pull from you. He knew what you wanted—he knew you'd wanted it just as long as he had.

Mutual desire hadn't been an issue between the two of you up until about five minutes ago, but that didn't mean neither of you felt it. You'd both felt the longing for the other extensively.

But now instead of desperately fucking your hands in your respective dormitories, you were—hopefully—going to fuck each other's hands in… You pulled away from Mattheo and glanced behind you, nodding your head suggestively toward the staircase leading up to his dormitory…say, ten minutes?

Mattheo snickered at your expression and allowed you to lead him up the stairs. Your hand was entangled in his like it had never belonged anywhere but there.

Once the two of you were past the landing and down the hallway, you clutched his hand tighter for a brief second, to which he responded by echoing the motion.

It was a silent question of which dorm was his. You'd been in his room once before, but only for studying, and it had been a while. You couldn't remember which identical door belonged to him.

He walked ahead, taking the lead, but never dropping your hand.

A few more steps later he was stopping in front of a door, sticking the brass key into the lock, and tugging you in. Once the door was closed, you were only allowed a few seconds to adjust to the darkness of the room, before Mattheo shoved you backward onto the bed nearest the door.

The pressure of your back hitting the mattress released a squeal from your lips, but that was quickly muted by Mattheo’s lips which found yours again. In the dark of the room, it was hard to tell where exactly he was, but you could clearly feel the bed beneath you sinking in as he crawled over you.

His knee came to rest between your legs, forcing them apart, and nudging against your core. You moaned lightly against his mouth but he swallowed the small sound with each breath he took.

His tongue traced the inside of your mouth lovingly, urging your jaw open further, forcing you to let him in.

Your fingers raised to his chest and began working the few buttons that were fastened apart, revealing his smooth, browned chest. Once the shirt was pulled apart, you pushed the fabric down his shoulders and whined at the feeling of his hot skin beneath your fingers.

He finally pulled his lips from yours and began working his way down your jawline and neck. You sighed in pleasure, fingers curling into his dark hair. Your nails lightly scratched against his scalp as they did so, eliciting a whispered groan from him.

The sound struck a flame in your core. You'd always wondered if he'd be vocal in bed.

Once he reached the divide of your cleavage, he wasted no time grasping the neckline of your busty shirt and pulling down.

Your breasts are pulled free, and exposed to the open air. You were suddenly so grateful to your past self for opting to skip the bra tonight.

He groaned at the sight of you and immediately latched his lips to your right nipple. You gasped aloud at the sensation, chest arching toward his face.

His hands, now free from anything else, got to work pushing your skirt up toward your hips. Beneath, you'd only wore a pair of black panties and the fishnets you'd bought, and it seemed that Mattheo was a very big fan.

Once he'd pulled away from your chest and noticed your legs, he immediately dropped down and began mouthing at your core through your bottoms. You jumped at the sudden stimulation, your fingers clutching at his hair.

“Fuck, Mattheo!” you cried. His mouth was ceaseless, devouring you through your panties, wetting the material completely through. The way your essence intertwined with his saliva had you gasping.

And before you could take another breath, he slipped his finger beneath your bottoms and pulled them to the side. His tongue resumed its previous ministrations, only this time his mouth was pressed right against your folds.

You groaned aloud, your thighs clenching together around his head.

With a deep breath, you snuck a peek down at his face. His eyes were completely closed—peacefully like he was right where he belonged. His jaw worked professionally, devouring you like you were a slice of fruit, and your juices painted his chin as such.

Without warning, he slipped a long finger into you, pressing directly against your sweet spot. At that point, you were done for. The final move pushed you over the edge.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t—!” You came ferociously, the waves of pleasure flowing through your body. Your hips snapped involuntarily against his mouth but he never stopped fucking you.

He worked you through the height of your orgasm, allowing you to come down from it gently and gradually.

When all of your muscles finally relaxed and a blissful smile began to spread across your face, you thought he was going to lie down beside you. But the recovery time didn’t last long as he flipped you on your stomach, the skirt still pushed up over your hips.

“Matty, baby,” you gasped, still out of breath from your last climax. “Wait.”

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he whispered frantically. Behind you, you could hear his belt clinking and the fabric of his pants rustling as he pulled them apart. “But I need to feel you around me.”

You gasped against the duvet—emerald and soft—realizing that you had only a few moments before Mattheo Riddle was going to be fucking you into his mattress. Your fingers gripped the sheets in anticipation.

His fingers grabbed hold of your hips, strong and sturdy, keeping you in place. You couldn’t have moved even if you wanted to.

He massaged your skin, watching lovingly as your body moved beneath his stimulation. He’d been imagining what you looked like under all of your uniform for months—imagining the way your ass would bounce when he fucked you into the bed, and the way your tits would flow like the ocean when you rode him. He’d imagined everything.

His hot, exposed core then pressed against the backs of your thighs. You whined aloud, face pressed into the soft comforter.

He felt like fire against your skin. Chills ran down your arms as you realized the sheer size of him, trailing across both of your legs. Fuck.

“Take a deep breath in for me, sweetheart,” he said, clutching your hip tighter with one hand whilst holding himself with the other.

He lined himself up with your entrance, tracing the tip down through your folds. You moaned aloud at the sensation, preparing yourself to take every inch of him within you.

As he pushed himself into you, with little to no resistance from the climax you’d already been given, you cried out. He bottomed out—his hipbones pressed squarely against your ass.

He let out a soft groan. “Fuck, baby, you opened right up for me.”

His fingers massaged your hips as he seemed to adjust to your warmth, lips parted in a silent moan. In his reluctance to move within you, you turned and peered over your shoulder at him, relishing in his pleasure-woven expression.

His eyes peeked open to stare down at you. When his eyes met yours, he moaned aloud and immediately pulled himself out of you only to force back in.

As he pressed directly into that spot deep within your core, you gasped and fell back against the sheets, unable to keep yourself pushed up.

“Fuck, baby, don’t look at me like that,” he said, pounding into you. “Gonna make me fall in love, sweetheart.”

You giggled against the bed, muffled slightly by the pace he was setting. His words were almost as tantalizing as the way his body moved. At this point, though, you didn’t care if he wanted to fall in love or not, you just wanted his body and the way it was learning yours.

“What do you want, baby? Huh? What do you need?” he gasped, his breaths coming out in hard pants as he refused to let up.

“Mm—I need…,” your words trailed off, forced into the duvet. Your hand pulled away from the sheets it gripped onto, to slide between your legs.

When Mattheo realized where your fingers’ intended goal was, he snatched your wrist and pinned it to your spine. His pace quickened, his hips snapping into you like an incredible force. With his free hand, he released your waist and slid it down between your legs.

His dampened chest pressed against your back as he allowed his fingers to reach their full extent. When his fingers touched your core, it only took a few spirals of movement for you to come hard around him.

You screamed at the sensation, this orgasm twice as hard as the previous one. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as he pushed you through your climax, each thrust extending the feeling pulsing through your body.

Still, he never stopped the sensations every part of his body was giving to yours.

You tightened around him. He all but whined behind you, moaning louder with each gradually sloppier thrust.

“Where, baby?” he groaned. “Where do you want it?”

“I-Inside, please,” you begged, forcing him closer to you, refusing to let him pull away from you. “Please give it to me inside.”

He pushed and pushed until he was finally spilling with you, each warm pulsation echoing within you as deep as he was.

He worked himself through his own orgasm, not granting you any relief despite your weakness. As he came to a complete stop, you were barely able to hold yourself up. Your hips sank down pathetically as he pulled himself away from you, moaning softly as he watched his essence pour from your entrance.

“Fuck, mama, you look so good for me,” he whispered. His fingers traced along your core at the mixture of spends. You cried out at the pure oversensitivity you were experiencing.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he said, collecting the pooling of cum around you and slowly pushing his finger back into you.

“Fuck, Mattheo,” you whined, eyes clenching shut.

“I just wanna make sure you get all of it,” he whispered, leaning down to press a biting kiss to your ass cheek. You whimpered at the slight pain fluttering across your skin.

“As a matter of fact, baby, I think you're gonna give me one more… just so I can make sure you're gonna come back to me no matter what,” he said.

And before you realized what he meant and could protest, you felt his mouth press to your core once again, his tongue working dangerous symbols against you.

And before you could remember to return to the party, Mattheo actually gave you two more orgasms—one extra for ‘good measure,’ he'd said. And you had collapsed against the mattress one final time before drifting off into the heaviest, most dreamless sleep you'd had in a while.

Nothing, it seemed, had been done whilst you were asleep, except that he'd dressed you in a pair of his pajamas, placed you beneath the covers, drawn the curtains around his canopy bed, and slid himself right beneath you and the covers. Almost as if he'd always belonged there. It seemed as if he was finding quite a bit of those spaces lately.

- - -

Tag List: @lilymurphy03 , @mypolicemanharryyy , @angelfrombeneth , @clairesjointshurt , @bunbunbl0gs , @acornacreacure, @niktwazny303 , @thestarlithideout, @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw , @yhiiil, @xxrougefangxx , @thatblackthorn, @robinyx , @starsval , @jolly4holly , @blvebanisters , @chgrch, @ilovehotmenandwoman, @smutnyrobocikwrakiecie , @synicaljah , @abaker74 , @2dloveshp, @seagull-on-toast

[kbwrites]

Breaking up is hard to do!

synopsis: breaking up with the jjk men.

⚝characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami

⚝content: heavy angst, gaslighting(Gojo's), depression (Suguru's), mutual breakup(Nanami's)

⚝wc: 3.5k

Satoru Gojo

“Yeah so then Yuji popped out of the crate and surprised them all! You should’ve seen it baby!” Satoru wheezes holding his stomach as he recalls the event from the day.

No matter how hard you try though, you can only muster a small smile.

It had become really hard to do much else recently. With the weight of the hundreds of tasks at work taking its toll. Satoru looks over at you, waiting for a laugh—but it doesn’t come.

“Hellooo? Everything alright princess?” He questions giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Mhmm!” You nod.

He looks at you for another moment, unreadable expression on his face. Satoru shifts, clearly expecting more from you. “You sure? You’ve been quiet tonight. That’s not like you,” he says, his voice still light, but there’s a hint of curiosity now.

You try to hold back the frustration, but it bubbles up anyway. “I’m just tired, Satoru.”

“Tired? Seriously?” he mutters, pulling his hand away. “You work, what, a nine-to-five? You act like you’re running yourself into the ground.”

You blink, taken aback by his dismissive tone. “Satoru, it’s not just about the hours. It’s everything piling up, and—”

“Piling up?” He cuts you off with a scoff, already reaching for his phone. “Why didn’t you just say something sooner? You know I could’ve hired someone to handle that for you. I’ve got the money. You shouldn’t be stressing over... whatever this is.”

The words sting. You knew his mind would go there. It always does—like money could just make the exhaustion disappear, like hiring someone to take care of the smaller details would magically solve everything.

“It’s not about the money, Satoru.” you snap, trying to hold onto your patience. “I don’t need someone else doing my job for me. I just... I need you to listen.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Listen? What do you expect me to say? You’re tired. I get it. But don’t act like you’re drowning when I could have fixed this a long time ago. Hell, I could’ve bought you time off or flown you somewhere. You're sittin' here sulking like I can’t take care of things.”

You clench your fists, the exhaustion now compounded by frustration. “It’s not about you fixing things, Satoru. Sometimes I just need support—not your money.”

He stares at you, eyes narrowing. “Right. So you want to feel miserable instead of letting me help. That’s real smart, princess.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you shove clothes into your bag, the sound of zippers and drawers slamming echoing through the room. You can feel Satoru’s presence behind you, hovering, but you don’t stop. You can’t. Not after that.

“C'mon, princess.” he says, his voice exasperated, like he’s the one who's supposed to be annoyed. “What are you doing? Where do you think you’re going?”

You don’t answer, your hands moving faster, yanking more clothes off hangers, ignoring the sting behind your eyes. You’re so angry you can barely breathe.

“I’ll book us a trip,” Satoru tries again, a hint of desperation creeping into his usually arrogant tone. “How about Paris? We’ll stay at that five-star hotel you like, the one with the private balcony. You love that place.”

Your jaw clenches. “This isn’t about a vacation, Satoru,” you snap, stuffing the last of your things into the bag. “It’s not about your money or your fancy hotels.”

“Then what is it about?” he shoots back, his voice rising with frustration. “You’re acting like I haven’t given you everything. "What more do you want?"

You freeze, bag halfway zipped, your body trembling as you turn to face him. His icy blue eyes are wide, confused, and maybe even a little hurt, but you’re beyond caring. “I want you to see me!” you shout, the words tearing out of you, louder than you intended. “I don’t need you to throw money at the problem! I need you to actually understand what I’m going through!”

Satoru stares at you, speechless for once. His mouth opens, but no words come out. He looks almost... shocked, like he can’t comprehend that his money, his status, can’t fix this. That he can’t fix this.

“Do you even care?” you ask, your voice quieter now, but no less angry. “Do you care about how I feel? Or is it just easier for you to throw cash at me until I stop complaining?”

He’s silent, his gaze hardening as he crosses his arms. “I’m trying to help. What else do you want me to do?”

“I want you to listen!” You throw your hands up in frustration, feeling more alone than ever. “I don’t want your money. I don’t want trips or fancy dinners. I want you to care about me, Satoru. Not just the idea of me.”

His lips press into a thin line, but he says nothing. The silence is louder than any of his words.

As your hand grips the doorknob, ready to leave, Satoru’s voice cuts through the silence, sharp and bitter.

“Right, run off to Shoko’s.” he scoffs, his arms crossed defensively. “You always do this, don’t you? The moment things get tough, you bolt. Guess it’s easier to complain to her than actually deal with me.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, stopping you in your tracks. You turn slowly to face him, disbelief clouding your vision. He’s standing there, arms folded, arrogance in his posture.

“I always do this?” you repeat, your voice trembling with anger. “I’ve stayed through everything, Satoru!"

“You’re just like Suguru.” Satoru spits out, the words dripping with bitterness and desperation.

Your hand freezes on the handle. You weren’t expecting that. Slowly, you turn to look at him, and the mask of arrogance has cracked. His eyes are wild, wide with something close to panic. “Running away the moment things get hard,” he continues, his voice shaking slightly. “Is that it? Just gonna leave like he did?”

Your heart skips a beat, anger fading for a moment as something else stirs inside you. You’ve seen Satoru angry before, frustrated, even cold—but this? This is different.

“That’s not fair.” you say quietly, though the anger still simmers beneath the surface. “I’m not leaving because things are hard. I’m leaving because you’re not listening.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow, his lips pressing into a hard line. Then he snaps, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade, sharp and cold. “Well, fine. Go. I survived him abandoning me, I’ll survive you too.”

His words sting, burning through the air with a finality that makes your breath hitch. It’s a challenge, a defense—his way of masking the fear that’s clawing at him from the inside out. He’s pushing you away before you can leave, just like he’s done with everything else that’s threatened to crack his carefully controlled world.

You stand there, frozen for a moment, staring at him as his walls rise higher, shutting you out. This is what it’s come to. He’s too scared to let you in, too scared to admit that you leaving isn’t something he can just survive—that it’s something that terrifies him.

But he won’t say it. He won’t ask you to stay.

And that’s when you know.

Suguru Geto

You rest under the comfort of your blanket. How many days have you been in this bed? Three days? Four? 

The world was just too much right now, and your room was the only security available. It had been a week since Suguru vanished without a word, leaving behind nothing but unanswered questions and broken trust. Principal Yaga’s words still echoed in your mind—a whole village slaughtered, his parents among the dead. 

And not even a text.

You weren’t sure if he was even alive, maybe it would be better if he wasn’t. At least then you wouldn’t have to come to terms with the fact that the love of your life was now a wanted killer.

You took another tissue from the box, blowing into it and tossing the crumpled mess into the garbage can.

Satoru hadn’t responded either, was he okay? Did he know?

Your mind screamed for silence, for the thoughts to stop, but they kept coming, relentless.

“Angel?”

That voice… no it couldn’t be. You lower the covers from your face.

It was

“Hi baby...” his normally soothing voice does little to alleviate the ache in your chest.

“You…” your voice barely a whisper, threatening to break. “I thought you were dead.”

He moves closer, his footsteps barely making a sound on the floor, and you finally take him in. Despite everything, despite the horrors you’ve been told, he looks… normal.

How could he look so much like the Suguru you knew, the Suguru you loved, when everything inside of you was shattered?

Was this the same man who held you close? Whispered sweet nothings in your ear—promised to protect you with his life? 

“It’s me, (Y/N).”  he says softly, his voice cutting through the silence as if he had read your thoughts.

The tenderness in his tone feels like a knife twisting in your chest. How could he say that—so casually, so easily? Like everything was normal, like your world hadn’t come crashing down around you. You blink, trying to force the tears back, trying to find the right words, but nothing comes.

“Are you?” your voice is small, barely more than a whisper. Doubt lingers in every syllable.

He doesn’t respond to your question. Instead, his gaze softens, and without a word, he pulls the covers off of you. The cold air rushes over your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you had buried yourself in, and for a moment you flinch, instinctively clutching the blanket before you let it slip from your fingers.

His eyes trace over your fragile form, and there’s something in them—a flicker of sympathy, regret, even—but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s the reason for your downward spiral. He knows it too. The weight of it presses on him, though he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he moves with a gentleness you hadn’t expected, sliding his arms under you and lifting you up as if you weighed nothing.

You want to protest, want to ask what he thinks he’s doing, but you’re too tired, too drained to fight. So you let him carry you. His arms are steady, and despite everything, you can’t help but melt in his embrace.

He takes you into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the space as he sets you down gently. You can feel the cool tile under your feet as he kneels in front of the tub, turning the faucet on and testing the temperature.

You had so many things you wanted to say. You wanted to yell at him, curse him, ask him why. But you couldn’t.

He dips his hand under the stream, adjusting the temperature until it’s just right. His movements are deliberate, methodical, as if this is the only way he knows how to show you any kind of care right now.

You stand there, numb and silent, watching him. The man who destroyed your world, now kneeling before you, acting as though he can piece it back together with something as simple as a bath. It feels absurd, almost cruel, but at the same time, you don’t have the strength to stop him.

Suguru rises to his feet, his presence towering yet calm as he began to undress you. Gentle hands pulling his t-shirt off of you, the one you had been clinging onto for days.

His hands brush lightly against your skin as he lifts the shirt over your head, sending a shiver down your spine.

He had seen you in this state before, many times. But this….this was different.

Suguru guides you to the shower, washing your body with a gentleness you missed so deeply.

You close your eyes, letting him take care of you, even though you don’t understand why or how he can. The silence between you grows heavier with every passing second, filled with words unspoken and emotions too tangled to sort out.

Finally, you speak, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. “Why are you here, Suguru?”

His hand pauses for a moment, the washcloth resting against your skin. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, but when he answers, his voice is low, steady, like he’s speaking more to himself than to you.

“Because I….I love you” His voice almost too quiet, as if he’s afraid to say the words out loud.

“Then why, Suguru?” your voice trembles, almost breaking under the weight of your next words. “Is it true? You killed those people?”

The washcloth falls from his hand, splashing into the water as the silence between you deepens. He doesn’t speak right away, and the hesitation in his silence is an answer in itself.

You swallow hard, the air thick with the weight of the truth you already know but can’t bear to accept.

“They were… in the way,” he finally admits, his voice low, almost hollow.

You step out of the shower, the warm water sliding off your skin in slow rivulets. Without thinking, you reach for the towel, wrapping it tightly around yourself like armor.

This isn’t the man you loved, the one who spoke of protecting the weak, of valuing life. Yet, there’s something so heartbreakingly familiar in the way he says it—like a twisted version of the Suguru you knew, now wrapped in darkness.

“But those were people, Suguru,” you say, your voice fragile, as if you’re trying to reach the man you once knew beneath the monster he’s become. “Innocent people. How could you…?”

He takes a deep breath, stepping closer to you, his hand brushing against your skin, cold and distant. “Because this world is broken.” he murmurs. “And I need to fix it. I had to do it. Can’t you see that? We—sorcerers—we’re meant for something greater. And they… they were holding us back.”

You shake your head, tears brimming in your eyes. “I don’t understand, Suguru. I don’t understand any of this.”

He steps closer, his hand cupping your face gently, as though trying to reassure you with his touch. "Come with me." he whispers, his voice softer now, pleading. “Run away with me. Together, we can build something new. You don’t have to be a part of this broken world anymore. We can leave it all behind.”

Before you can respond, his lips press against yours, a kiss that’s both gentle and urgent, as though he’s trying to pour every unsaid word, every plea, into this one moment. It’s the Suguru you remember—the Suguru who once made you feel safe, loved.

But the reality of who he’s become crashes down on you.

You pull away, your hands pressed firmly against his chest, creating a wall between you. “No.” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I can’t.”

For a moment, Suguru just stands there, staring at you, his dark eyes searching yours for something—some kind of understanding, some sign that you’ll change your mind. His hand lingers on your cheek, his touch softer now, almost hesitant, as though he’s trying to hold on to whatever connection is left.

But then, slowly, he withdraws, his hand falling back to his side. He straightens up, his expression hardening as he steps away from you, giving you the space you so desperately need. The softness in his eyes fades, replaced by the cold determination you’ve seen before.

“You’ll see,” he says, his voice quiet, but there’s a sharp edge to it now. “One day, you’ll understand. When you see what I’ve seen, when you finally understand the truth about this world—you’ll come around. I know you will.”

His words hang heavy in the air, and without another glance, he turns and walks toward the door, leaving you standing alone, trembling in the silence.

Nanami Kento

Kento was an honest man. There was nothing he ever kept from you. Other people might view him as a hard shell, but you could read him like a book.

So when he came to bed that night, holding you just a little tighter than usual—you knew something was up.

You shifted slightly in his embrace, his grip tightening instinctively as if he feared you might slip away.

“Kento?” you asked softly, your voice breaking the stillness of the room. 

“I’ve decided to talk to Gojo tomorrow.” he said quietly, his voice steady but with a hint of resolve. “I want to return to being a sorcerer.”

The words hung in the air, sinking into you like lead. You stiffened, a sharp sting blooming in your chest as you processed his decision.

“Are you seriously considering this?” Your voice trembled with a mix of hurt and disbelief. “You know what that life entails. You’ve seen the consequences. Are you really willing to go back to that danger?”

Kento’s silence was heavier than any response he could have given. His arms, though still holding you close, seemed distant now, as if they were reaching out from across a chasm of uncertainty.

“I’ve thought it through,” he said finally, though his tone lacked the conviction he tried to project. “I need to do this for myself. I can’t keep pretending I’m satisfied with where I am.”

The last words echoed in your ears their weight sinking deep into your heart. “So you’re not satisfied with me?” you whispered, barely able to speak past the knot forming in your throat.

Kento’s eyes widened in shock. “No, that’s not what I meant—”

“Then what is it, Kento?” you demanded, frustration and hurt sharpening your words. “We have something good here. You have a good job. You left Jujustu High for a reason! What about Haibara—”

At the mention of Haibara, Kento’s face hardened. His eyes, which had been searching for the right words, now burned with anger and frustration. “Don’t.”

Your eyes widen at his tone. He sighs, trying to catch himself. “This…isn’t about him, or his fate. It’s about my own path, my own choices. You think I’m risking everything without knowing the cost?”

 “And what do you expect me to do, Kento?” Your voice cracked, raw emotion rising as you slid out of bed, unable to lie still any longer. “Sit at home and worry about you? Not knowing if you’re going to come back in one piece? I can’t live like that! I can’t live every day with the fear that you might not come back, that you might be hurt or worse?”

The silence that followed was suffocating. You paced the room, your emotions boiling over, while Kento sat still, his gaze following you but offering no solace.

“You’re asking me to accept a life where every day is a gamble with your safety!” You stopped, turning to face him, your chest heaving with emotion. “How am I supposed to do that? How am I supposed to pretend everything’s okay when the reality is that you might not come back to me? This isn’t just about you, Kento. It’s about us, our future!”

Kento ran a hand through his blond locks, frustration etched into every line of his face. “I’m not asking you to pretend it’s okay. I’m asking you to understand that this is something I need to do for myself, even if it means risking everything.”

You blinked, tears blurring your vision as his words sank in. “And what if everything we have is the cost?”

The question lingered, echoing in the space between you. Kento rose from the bed, standing tall before you, but the weight of the moment seemed to bow his shoulders.

He stepped closer, his hands trembling slightly as they cupped your face. His eyes, filled with a deep sadness, searched yours, looking for understanding that he knew might never come. “I love you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You need to know that.”

You shook your head, your voice breaking. “But that isn’t enough… is it? It never will be…”

There was a heavy silence between you, the weight of your words pressing down on both of you.

“I… can’t watch you throw your life away, Kento.”

He took a deep breath, the sound heavy with resignation. "Then… we’ve both made our decision."

His hands, which had held you with such tenderness, felt distant as you pulled away. You took a step back, a sob catching in your throat.

He opens his mouth, but no words come out with a trembling breath, he stepped forward and gently pulled you into his arms. The embrace was tender, filled with the weight of finality.

He buried his face in the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent one last time as if trying to imprint it into his memory. The warmth of his body, once a comfort, now felt like a dagger in your chest.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered, his voice strained. The words were barely audible, but the sentiment hung heavy in the air.

Kento lingered for a moment, his hand sliding from your back to gently cup your face. His thumb brushed away the tear you hadn’t realized had fallen, and his expression softened with a promise you weren’t sure either of you could believe.

“I’ll come back,” he whispered, his voice strained but resolute. “Somehow… I’ll find my way back to you. One day.”

You clung to him for a moment longer, feeling the ache of goodbye in every fiber of your being, before he slowly pulled away. Leaving you.

[batsandbirdbrains]

The one where the Gotham rogues are very territorial over their favorite bird

I always thought it was odd how in season one of young justice, neither Bane nor Robin acknowledged that Bane is a Gotham villain when they met on Santa Prisca. So I give u some ideas of the team encountering Gotham rogues and said rogues only giving a shit about Robin bc no one is as good as their little bird. And also if another non-Gotham villain they’re working with tries to do anything to Robin? That’s not gonna fly.

Like just imagine during that first Santa Prisca episode, when they have Bane tied up to a tree or whatever and M’gann is trying to read his mind for information, Bane straight up rolls his eyes at her, and turns to Robin.

“Tell your little sidekick friends not to announce their psychic abilities before actually using them,” Bane scoffs.

And when M’gann immediately responds with, “he’s reciting football scores, en español,” Robin straight up snorts and hides his grin behind his hands. Because come on dude why would you TELL the bad guy you’re gonna read his mind before you actually do it? Amateur move.

“It’s their first real mission,” Robin tells Bane, as if telling him it’s his baby sibling’s first time playing tee ball, an exaggerated grin on his face and his hands clasped by his cheek. Bane can just tell he’s batting his eyelashes behind the mask.

“Clearly.”

And all the others get annoyed because Robin is bantering with the enemy.

“Will you stop encouraging him!” Wally snaps, unsure if he’s directing it towards Bane or Robin.

Bane ends up helping them because he for some strange reason has a soft spot for Robin. Maybe Bane calls him something like murciélago baby, and it makes Robin straight up pout at him. He’s not a baby. He’s a whole teenager now, and Bane knows it.

Robin knew Bane was only going to help them so much, so he’s not shocked when that comes like everyone else is. He just gives Bane an exaggerated salute before running the other direction.

When the creepy Kobra guy is fighting with Robin later on? Bane does not like that. Not one bit. Once the kiddies leave, Bane kicks the crap out him.

In another mission, they have a run in with the Penguin, who just straight up groans when he catches sight of Robin.

“You again!” Robin is smothering an actual giggle at how exasperated Penguin sounds. “Tell the Bat to come deal with me himself!”

“But Uncle Ozzy!” Everyone can hear the grin he has in his face. “Didn’cha miss me? I missed you!”

The team is frozen in their spots, unsure of what angle Robin is trying to play. Also, did he just call the Penguin his uncle? Superboy is trying to figure out if that’s actually his uncle. It would explain why Robin is so short.

And when that thought goes through the mind link, Robin throws an actual birdarang at him. Rude. He’s not short he’s a gymnast and he’s a perfectly respectable height thank you!

The team ends up watching and Robin dances around the warehouse, dodging shots and taking out Penguin’s hired thugs all at the same time. By the time he’s taken them all out, he’s actually beaming as he stands in front of a very frustrated looking Oswald Cobblepot.

“Listen kid,” he somehow sounds fond, exhausted, and gruff all at the same time, “I don’t wanna see your hide around here for at least a month after this, got it? I’ve seen enough of you!”

“Aww, you didn’t miss me?” Robin is twirling Penguin’s umbrella in his hands, and no one can figure out when he snatched it.

“Fine, yes, I missed you. Even though I saw you three nights ago with the Bat!” Penguin now has his hands tied behind his back.

“Yeah but B is a sourpuss, he’s no fun,” Robin chirps. “Our games are much more fun when it’s just us!”

“I’m gonna roast you like a chicken one of these days, bird boy.”

“See! You’d never say that with B around!”

Robin is off to the side now, hacking through Penguin’s phone to find the files he wanted. They’re still going back and forth at each other, and the team is just standing awkwardly around trying to figure out how to be helpful.

“And don’t bring these goody-two-shoes kids around here again!” Penguin snaps at him. “They barely lifted a finger the whole fight, they’re useless!”

“But they’re my friends!”

Artemis scoffs when she realize Robin didnt even try to prove that they arent useless. It passes through their mind link, and Robin turns his head just enough to narrow his eyes at her.

Well then next time don’t make me fucking fight them all by myself, he thinks at them. They at least have the decency to look embarrassed when he points it out.

“Well that was fun!” Robin announces. “The Commish will be by soon to pick up you and your boys. Thanks for playing with me, Uncle Ozzy!”

“Yeah, yeah. See you next time squirt.”

“Can I keep your umbrella?”

“No!”

Robin just shrugs and rolls it under Penguin’s chair. He can hear the police sirens already.

“Well that’s our cue to skedaddle.”

Robin is halfway back to the bioship before the others can shake off the shock of whatever the bell they just witnessed and follow after him.

“How are you so friendly with them?” Wally asks once they’re flying back to the mountain.

Robin shrugs very exaggeratedly.

“Maybe that’s my super power. Did’ja ever think of that?”

“I hate you.”

I can’t rly think of any other specific idea but I do love this premise so so much I think it’s hilarious.

[wolvietxt]

💭 thinking about…

𝗅𝗈𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍!

pairing : logan howlett x fem!reader warnings : argument, logan shouts at reader over something insignificant, hurt / comfort, ANGST, fluff, happy ending  word count : 2.4k

logan had been on edge for weeks now. everything seemed to be going wrong, one thing after another. his mission plan was falling apart, charles was breathing down his neck, and it felt like no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t catch a break. the stress was eating at him, wearing him down little by little until it felt like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

you’d noticed the change in him - how he seemed quieter, more distant, his temper flaring up over the smallest things. you tried to help where you could, offering him a shoulder to lean on, giving him space when he needed it, but nothing seemed to work. logan was like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap at any moment.

today had been the worst of all. logan’s day started with a series of frustrating conversations that left him feeling like he was running in circles. every task seemed to come with a new problem, and by the time he left work, he was fuming. his hands clenched into fists as he drove home, his mind racing with everything that had gone wrong. all he wanted was to come home, find some peace, and forget about the day. but even that was too much to ask.

when he walked through the door, he immediately noticed that the kitchen was spotless - so spotless, in fact, that his papers, the ones he’d left scattered across the table, were missing. he felt a surge of irritation. you had been on a cleaning spree, trying to make the house more comfortable for him, but in doing so, you’d moved around some of his blueprints. the ones he needed. the ones he hadn’t had time to organise properly.

“where are my papers?” logan’s voice was tight as he scanned the kitchen, looking for the documents that were now nowhere to be seen.

you looked up from where you were organising the bookshelf, smiling a little at him. “oh, i moved them to the study so you’d have more space. i thought - ”

“you thought?” logan cut you off, his voice rising. “why would you move my stuff without asking me?”

you blinked, caught off guard by the sharpness in his tone. “i just wanted to help. i know you’ve been stressed, and i thought having a clean space might - ”

“a clean space?” logan’s laugh was harsh, bitter. “i don’t need a clean space, i need my work to not be messed with! do you have any idea how much shit i’ve been dealing with lately? and now this - this is the last thing i need!”

he was shouting now, the frustration of the past few weeks boiling over. every little thing that had gone wrong, every setback, every sleepless night - it all came out in a torrent of anger directed at you. 

“logan, i didn’t mean to make things worse…” you tried to explain, but he wasn’t listening. he was too far gone, too wrapped up in his own frustration to hear the hurt in your voice.

“you never think, do you? you just do whatever you want, and now i’m the one who has to deal with the consequences! i’m sick of this! i’m sick of everything always going wrong, and now you’re just adding to it!”

his words cut through you like a knife. you hadn’t meant to make things worse, you 

were just trying to help, but the way he was yelling at you, the anger in his voice - it was too much. your chest tightened, and you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, but you tried to hold them back. 

“logan, please… i’m sorry, i just wanted to make things easier for you,” you said, your voice trembling.

“easier? easier for me?” he snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “well, congratulations, because you’ve done the exact opposite! now i have to waste even more time finding everything you moved, and i’m already drowning here!”

the tears you’d been trying so hard to hold back finally spilled over. you tried to wipe them away quickly, but logan was still shouting, too caught up in his own anger to notice.

“why can’t you just leave things the way they are? why do you always have to interfere? it’s like you don’t even care how much pressure i’m under! do you even care about anything besides what you want?”

his words were like a punch to the gut, and you couldn’t hold it in any longer. a sob escaped your lips, loud and broken, and it stopped logan in his tracks. the sound cut through his anger like a knife, and suddenly, the room was silent. 

he stared at you, his chest heaving as he tried to process what was happening. you were crying - no, you were sobbing, and it hit him like a ton of bricks. all the anger, all the frustration that had been driving him just moments ago, drained away, leaving him feeling hollow and ashamed.

“y/n…” he started, his voice shaky now, all the sharp edges gone. “shit, i didn’t mean…”

but you couldn’t stop crying, the weight of his words crashing down on you all at once. you hadn’t realised just how much stress he’d been under, how deeply it had been affecting him, and now it felt like you’d only made everything worse.

logan stepped closer, his hands reaching out, but he hesitated. he didn’t know how to fix this - how to take back the things he’d said, the hurt he’d caused. “hey, hey… please don’t cry. i’m sorry, i didn’t… i didn’t mean any of that.”

his hands were trembling as he finally pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. he could feel your sobs wracking your body, and it broke something inside him. how could he have been so blind? so stupid? 

“i’m so fucking sorry,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “i’m an idiot, and i let all this shit get to me, and i took it out on you. you didn’t deserve any of that.”

you clung to him, your fingers digging into his shirt as you tried to calm down. his arms were strong around you, holding you like you were the only thing anchoring him to reality. and maybe, in that moment, you were.

logan pressed his lips to the top of your head, murmuring apologies over and over, his voice thick with regret. “i’m sorry… i’m so fucking sorry… please, y/n, don’t cry. i hate seeing you like this.”

you wanted to tell him that it was okay, that you understood, but the words were stuck in your throat. instead, you just held onto him, letting him hold you, letting his presence calm the storm inside you.

it took a while for your sobs to finally subside, and when they did, you felt exhausted, like all the fight had been drained out of you. but logan didn’t let go - he just held you tighter, like he was afraid that if he let go, you’d slip away.

“i’ve been such a fucking mess lately,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “everything’s been going wrong, and i didn’t know how to deal with it. i’ve been pushing you away, taking it out on you, and that’s not fair. it’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to us.”

you nodded against his chest, your fingers still gripping his shirt. “i just wanted to help… i hate seeing you like this. it feels like you’re slipping away from me, and i don’t know how to bring you back.”

logan’s heart clenched at your words. he hadn’t realised how much his behaviour had been affecting you, how much you’d been carrying on your own. he felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over him, and he held you even tighter.

“y’re not losing me,” he said firmly, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. his thumb gently brushed away the tears on your cheeks, his touch soft, careful. “i promise you, you’re not losing me. i’ve just been so caught up in my own shit that i forgot what really matters.”

you searched his eyes, looking for the truth in his words, and you found it there - clear and unwavering. he was still here, still the man you loved, even if he’d lost his way for a while.

“i’m not going anywhere,” he continued, his voice steady now, a promise in every word. “we’re going to get through this. together.”

you nodded, a small, shaky smile forming on your lips. “yeah.”

logan leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “i love you,” he whispered, his voice filled with all the emotion he’d been holding back for weeks. “i love you so much. and i’m going to do better, i can fuckin’ promise you that, bub.”

you closed your eyes, letting his words wash over you, feeling the truth in them. you knew it wouldn’t be easy - logan was stubborn, and he had a lot to work through - but you also knew that he meant every word. he loved you, and that was enough.

“i love you too,” you whispered back, your voice soft but steady. 

logan’s lips found yours in a gentle, lingering kiss, one that spoke of apologies and promises of love and commitment. when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours again, his eyes closed as he took a deep breath. logan smiled - a real, genuine smile that you hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. 

the two of you stayed like that for a while longer, just holding each other, finding comfort in the closeness. the argument, the hurt, the tears - they were all still there, but they didn’t feel as overwhelming now. you both knew there was work to be done, but for the first time in weeks, it felt like you were on the same page, like you could actually do this.

when logan finally pulled away, he took your hand and led you to the couch, where the two of you sat down together. his arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side, and you leaned into him, resting your head on his chest.

“tell me what’s been going on,” you said softly, wanting to understand what had been eating at him for so long. “i want to help, logan. i don’t want you to go through this alone.”

logan let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair as he tried to find the right words. “it’s just been one thing after another. work’s been a nightmare. nothing’s going right, and scott is on my case constantly. every day, it feels like i’m just… barely keeping my head above water. and then i come home, and i don’t want to burden you with all of this, but it’s just… it’s been too much.”

you listened quietly, letting him talk, letting him get it all out. you could hear the exhaustion in his voice, the frustration, the weight he’d been carrying for so long. it broke your heart to know he’d been dealing with all of this on his own, and you hadn’t even realised how bad it had gotten.

“logan,” you said softly when he finished, your voice filled with compassion. “you don’t have to carry this by yourself. i’m here, and i want to help. we’re a team, remember?”

logan nodded, his eyes closing as he rested his head back against the couch. “i know. i just… i didn’t want to unload all of this on you. i didn’t want to worry you.”

“but i was already worried,” you pointed out gently. “because i could see that something was wrong, and you weren’t talking to me about it. that’s what scared me the most - not knowing what was going on in your head.”

logan’s grip on your hand tightened, and he turned to look at you, his eyes filled with regret. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to shut you out. i just… didn’t know how to talk about it. i didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“logan, you don’t have to be perfect,” you said, your voice firm but loving. “i love you for who you are, flaws and all. and if you’re struggling, i want to know. i want to be there for you, just like you’ve always been there for me.”

logan’s expression softened, and he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. “i don’t deserve you,” he murmured against your skin. “but i’m so fucking grateful that you’re here.”

you smiled, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close. “you deserve all the love in the world, logan. and i’m not going anywhere. we’ll figure this out, one step at a time.”

logan nodded, his heart swelling with emotion. he knew he was lucky to have you, and he was determined to do better - to be better. for you, and for himself.

the two of you spent the rest of the evening talking, really talking, about everything that had been weighing on logan’s mind. it wasn’t easy, but it was necessary, and by the end of the night, you both felt a sense of relief that had been missing for far too long.

logan knew he still had a lot to work through, but he also knew that he wasn’t alone. you were by his side, ready to face whatever challenges came your way. and for the first time in weeks, he felt like he could finally breathe again.

as you both drifted off to sleep that night, wrapped up in each other’s arms, logan made a silent promise to himself: he would never take you for granted again. you were his rock, his safe haven, and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure you knew just how much you meant to him.

because at the end of the day, no matter how tough things got, you were the one thing in his life that he couldn’t afford to lose. and he would do whatever it took to keep you by his side, now and always.

[mywritersmind]

THE BOOTH - LN4

summary : The booth. A notorious club in the heart of london, where y/n and lando met again after two years of silence.

listen up : fewtrell!reader. She sits in his lap. no smut, just hot and suggestive. creepy guy in the beginning! Prob my fav short i’ve written omg

word count : 1732

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“No.” I giggle out of uncomfortableness at the man getting closer to me.

“C’mon, let me buy you a drink.” the man reeks of alcohol and has fucked up teeth. I’ve seen enough. I pull down the bottom of my mini dress as I stand.

“No.” I repeat, pushing past him. The club is crowded and sticky, I see my friends but a hand around my wrist pulls me back.

“Really? Too good for me?” He scoffs in my face but the next thing I know he’s being pushed away from me.

“She is.” The voice comes from the man in front of me, the guy who pushed this dickhead away. “Piss off. She’s with me.”

The guy seems intimidated enough because he gives me a dirty look and leaves. “Thank y-” I pause when the man turns around.

I pause because the man is my childhood crush, brothers best friend, and fucking formula one driver.

“Lando?” I’m genuinely shocked that the britt I haven’t seen in two years is standing in front of me.

“Y/n!?” He looks me up and down, his mouth open, “Fuck… You look good.” I could say the same for him, in a navy button down, jeans, and his jewelry adorning his hands. He’s ridiculously hot.

I laugh, “Careful Lan, my brother could be lurking.” I switch my weight onto one leg as he smirks.

Max loves Lando. Max loves me.

Therefore, Max HATED the thought of us even speaking. We were all friends in childhood but our teens hit and suddenly I was completely off limits. I’m pretty sure he noticed how much I asked about Lando and swore that he would kill both of us if anything happened.

Someone walks behind him, causing him to get closer, his hand brushing against my hip, “Don’t scare me, yeah?”

I bite my lip at the thought, we start walking across the room, Lando’s hand firmly on me now as he ‘guides’ me. “Don’t worry. Idiots in Monaco… which means we have free rein.”

I see his jaw clench, his drink slide onto his lips again, “I’d like to keep my friendship.”

“I’d like to lose my panties.” I’m quick to reply, messing with Lando used to be my favorite thing.

You see, Lando is Max’s best friend. He feels bad lying and this would definitely be considered a betrayal of trust.

But for me… Max is my brother. I can lie and do whatever I want with no remorse. Lando is something I could do easily and as much as it would make me happy to piss off my brother, Norris has always been that one guy in the back of my mind.

“Christ Y/n. Missed your remarks.” We make it to the wall, it’s a bit quieter over here.

“You mean you missed my flirting?” I look up at him, he just bites his lip, hiding his smile.

“I missed you.” He surprises me with this.

“I missed you too.” I push my hand through my hair, “How’ve you been?”

“Good. Really good.” He smiles big and I know it’s because of his racing.

“Watched your win in Zandvoort.” I sigh, “Simply lovely was brutal.” He rolls his eyes, laughing and leaning his head back on the wall.

“Not you too!”

“It was hilarious! I liked it!” I hit his arm and the way he looks at me… it’s like every emotion that I've tucked away and only opened up in the darkness of my bedroom after midnight, comes out then. “I like this too.”

My hand goes to the back of his neck, playing with his curls that shape his baby mullet.

“Don’t do that.” He shakes his head, his eyes cut into me, his voice weak.

“What?” I say innocently.

“You always do this.”

“Do what, Norris?” Lando never was that much taller than me, but something about the two passed years has changed that.

His tongue runs over his teeth, he’s about to say something but two guys appear next to us, “Mate! We’ve been looking for you!” Another British man speaks, Alex Albon to be exact.

“Found a friend?” Carlos sainz eyes me, dressed in all black.

I smile at the drivers, Lando eyes Carlos. “Max’s sister. Y/n.” They both nod and look much too interested in how Lando says it, “Y/n… this is Alex and Carlos.”

“Pleasure.” I smile wide. I am an F1 fan, it’s a bit weird seeing Lando on the grid but I’ll sit and watch with Max almost every weekend that we’re together.

“Pleasures all ours! I’ve always wanted to meet Lando’s childhood crush!” Lando hits Carlos, making him grab his stomach, “Worth it!” The Spanish man chokes out.

Lando scratches the back of his neck, not looking at me. “Are you here with anyone?” Alex asks me, I knew he would be nice.

“Yeah! I’m not sure where they are but…”

“That’s okay. You have us now!” Alex and I end up getting a drink, Lando stays back with Carlos who’s definitely teasing him.

I get a vodka lemonade and four shots. Alex and I are already best friends and laughing so hard that Carlos and Lando won’t stop asking us what’s so funny.

They don’t know that I showed Alex a photo of Lando and I as smurfs when we were five.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

LANDO NORRIS

Describing Y/n is something i’ve done many times. To friends, for context in stories, but if i’d really describe her… I don’t think I would have an ending point.

She’s got long blonde hair. She cut it all off when she was fifteen and I almost fainted when I didn’t recognize her. She loved it.

She’s confident, you can see it in her walk. Her hips sway and the click of her heels is something I'll never forget.

When she talks to you, all attention is on you, her eyes are hazel, appearing brown in the dark but if you get close enough… you’ll see the green.

She never quite had an awkward stage, always been beautiful, probably always will be. I haven’t seen her in years yet she acts like I talked to her yesterday.

Y/n sucks on a lime after her shot, smiling and clapping her hands together, “God, I feel like i’m in highschool!”

I obviously didn’t go to school with her. She’s a year younger and Max would non stop complain about her. She was more popular than him, going out, and was basically friends with everyone.

I remind myself again that Max is the reason why my arm is around the couch and not her waist.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Y/N

“Norris!” I stand, holding out my hand, “Picture time.” I smile as he stands with me.

“What?” Carlos asks.

“Called the booth for a reason, Sainz!” I grin at the boys, gripping Lando’s hand tight and maneuvering us through the crowd.

There’s one photo booth in the back corner of the club. It’s notorious for famous photos and making everyone look good.

I look back at the boys who all look confused. All except Lando.

We came to the booth when Lando was in town from F2, we were 17 and 18. Max had gone off with some girl and we found ourselves in this exact booth.

We swore never to talk about it.

But I’m all for repeating history.

“Fewtrell…” He warns in my ear as we walk to the starred booth.

I glance back, dragging out his name, “Norris.”

He gets in first, unlike us as teens, only one person can fit. I smile and watch Lando’s face drop, I sit down on his lap, “Playing with fire here, love.” he says in my ear.

“I don’t mind getting burned.” He slips two coins in, his hand moving to my waist and holding me steady.

We smile first.

SNAP

I move a bit and give him bunny ears.

SNAP

Lando clears his throat, gripping my skin tighter as he looks at me. I move again, my skirt riding up a bit. “Trying to kill me?”

I smile and kiss his cheek, feeling something hard against me.

SNAP

“Of course.” I look at him, “The memories in here… You remember?”

“I’d be an idiot to forget.”

His hand moves down my hip, closer to my thigh. I look at him again as the photo booth starts up for the second time, “I shouldn’t.” He whispers, my face centimeters from his. I hear the whistles outside.

I shift once more, turning more to him. He groans, his head falling backwards and his eyes closing, “Give me a good reason.”

SNAP

He opens his eyes, meeting mine. I know I've got him. My hand rests on his neck, my rings pressing against his skin. He mumbles something but it’s too loud, “Speak up, Norris.”

“Never spoken.” His eyes flick to my lips, trying to get me to promise this is a secret.

“Never ever.” He leans in closer.

SNAP

“Come on rule breaker… I believe in you.” I whisper in his ear and it breaks him. I’m pulling his head closer to me, his lips on mine, a relief like no other.

He grabs ass, pulling me closer in the tiny space. I slip my tongue in his mouth, whimpering a bit. He bites my lip. I’m melting into him. It’s hot and needy but so much more than I could have ever wanted.

SNAP

Kissing Lando at Seventeen was scandalous and drunken. Kissing Lando at Twenty Three flat out sexy.

“Need you…” He whispers into the kiss which makes me almost come undone right then and there.

Someone bangs on the booth, “Alright Lovebirds!” Lando laughs but I'm the one to pull away.

“I can’t leave this booth.” He says quickly, his face red and sweaty.

“You’ll be fine-” I understand what he’s talking about when I go to leave and something brushes against my leg, “Oh.”

He looks away from me, blushing.

I smile, proud of myself for the boner and his pink cheeks, “Aw come on! I’ll cover you.” I wink and he rolls his eyes, He walks out behind me, his arms firmly on my waist again.

The two drivers grin at us, “You covering a boner?” Carlos starts but gets punched for the second time tonight by Lando. He holds his stomach again, “Still worth it!”

[fiastomatocheek]

WHERE IT HURTS ME THE MOST

requested: yes | req: okay so my idea is reader and will are arguing and she's got a short temper and so will is kinda dialing in on insults related to that. and i guess to make this make sense, she had a past boyfriend that didn't treat her the best so her anger is a coping mechanism and a safety net for herself so she doesn't get hurt again but he's never seen her cry at all (about that situation or anything else) in the time they've been dating. and they're just going back and forth and back and forth and finally will says something like ‘well i get why your ex left because you're so stubborn and angry all the time. if you got your anger under control maybe some good things would happen to you’ and it just breaks her. like she stops fighting and when she goes to leave, will sees the tears welling in her eyes and he knows immediately that he fucked up. and she isolates herself and no one hears from her for days until finally will finds her at her apartment and he apologizes or something like that? please and thank you!

pair: will smith x f!reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, romance.

warnings: past emotional abuse, toxic ex mentioned, yelling/argument, emotional breakdown, isolation, hurtful dialogue, emotional vulnerability, but ends with comfort and healing.

summary: you only asked will for one thing is that to check in after practice. it wasn’t a demand. just a simple gesture. but when a small concern turns into a spiraling argument, will crosses a line he never should’ve touched. and the moment he sees you cry for the first time, he realizes exactly how much damage he’s done.

fia’s note: never been in a toxic relationship before *praying this kind of love never finds me* so i’m not really sure what else to add, but i hope you enjoy it anywayyy. love you all lots!! my fav little 🍅s. alsooo i’d love if some of you could recommend me a few will smith angst fics to read, i’m in the mood to suffer a little. and i’m currently open to dad!luke hughes requests too!! he doesn’t get nearly enough dad delulu content on here and i desperately need it.

tagging team fia ! — @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @dancerbailey3 @mashmashi @kell9rs @nokiaholland

fia’s masterlist | join fia’s taglist | fic discussion

“Hey,”

Will greeted casually, wiping his damp forehead with the edge of his shirt after tossing his gear bag down by the entryway.

“Hi,” you replied flatly.

He paused, glancing at you. “Everything… okay?”

“I don’t know. Did something happen after practice? You usually text.”

He looked up from unlacing his shoes.

“Yeah, sorry. Coach kept us longer than usual.”

You leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

“You still could’ve sent a text. Just… anything.”

He let out a breath, already heading toward the kitchen.

“Babe, I was busy. And you know I don’t take my phone on the ice.”

“I know,” you said quietly.

“But it’s not about the rink. It’s about after. You had it once practice ended. You just didn’t use it.”

“You’re mad?”

“I’m not mad,”

You said, eventhough the frustration in your tone told a different story.

“I just… it would’ve taken two seconds to text ‘I’m okay’. That’s all I needed.”

Will tossed his hoodie over the back of the chair.

“I was exhausted. I didn’t think you’d be this upset about it.”

“That’s the problem,” you snapped.

“You didn’t think. About me. About how I sit here wondering if something happened. If you got hurt. I know it sounds stupid, but it matters to me.”

“It’s not stupid,”

He said quickly, but the way he rubbed his temples suggested he didn’t quite mean it.

“It’s just… I don’t get why it’s always a big thing.”

“It’s not always a big thing,” you said, voice rising.

“You just make me feel like I’m asking for too much everytime I express something that bothers me.”

“Because you come at me like I’ve already failed.”

You stared at him. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you actually listened when I talk.”

Will’s jaw clenched. “I do listen, I do. But you’re always so angry. Every conversation turns into a fight.”

And just like that, your anger cut deeper than he probably intended.

You turned away, trying to collect yourself.

But Will didn’t stop.

“It’s like you’re constantly looking for something to go wrong. I come home and you’re already on edge, like you’re bracing for a war that hasn’t even started.”

“Maybe because I am bracing,”

You snapped, spinning back toward him.

“You don’t know what it’s like to live in a state of defense. To have someone chip away at you every fucking day until the only thing left is armor.”

Will’s expression now is confused, overwhelmed, cornered.

“I’m not your ex, babe.”

“I never said you were. But sometimes you make me feel like I have to prepare for the worst. Like if I don’t say something now, I’ll end up swallowed by silence, again.”

He scoffed. “You can’t compare me to him everytime you’re upset.”

“I’m not! I’m just trying to explain why I am the way I am!”

“Then maybe work on changing it.”

Your stomach dropped.

“What?”

“I’m just saying,” he muttered, frustration bleeding through,

“You always expect me to cater to your triggers, your past, your baggage but when do you take responsibility for how you react?”

“I am taking responsibility,” you said.

“I’m telling you what I need so we don’t spiral like this. And you’re acting like I’m attacking you.”

Will stepped back, tone turning cold.

“You know what? Fine. Be angry. Be stubborn. That’s all you ever do anyway.”

You flinched.

And then he said it. The most hurtful things you’ve ever heard.

“Well, I get why your ex left. Because you’re so stubborn and angry all the time. If you got your anger under control, maybe some good things would happen to you.”

A breath. A heart broken.

All of the pain hit all at once, your body stilled, your face blanked. Your eyes went glassy, your fists clenched at your sides.

Will’s face dropped as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Wait no, I didn’t mean that, I—”

But it was too late.

Your voice cracked as you whispered,

“You were supposed to be different.”

You turned, grabbed your keys, and… left.

It’s had been three days eversince that day you left his apartment, eversince the you hadn’t answered a single message.

Not the texts. Not the voicemails. Not even the flowers he sent that sat untouched outside your apartment door.

Will was unraveling, everytime he closed his eyes, he saw the way your face shattered, how your mouth opened in shock, but no words came, your eyes filled with tears those tears you never let him see before you slipped out the door without another word.

Now, soaked from the rain, he used the spare key you gave him months ago, stepping into your apartment with a heart heavy enough to drown him this time.

You were there.

When you looked up and saw him, you didn’t move.

“Please…”

He said quietly, shutting the door behind him.

“Just… let me say this.”

You looked so tired. So hollow.

Will knelt beside the couch, water dripping from his head onto the floor.

“I know… I know I said the one thing I should’ve never said. But I need you to understand… I wasn’t angry at you. I was scared. Scared I was failing you. And instead of being patient, I chose to be cruel.”

Your eyes flicked toward him, lips trembling.

“You’ve told me what your anger protects. I should’ve respected that. I should’ve seen that what I call ‘yelling’ is really just the sound of you trying not to drown.”

He hesitated, then reached for your hand so gentle, barely a brush.

“I love you. Not in the convenient way. Not just when things are easy. I love you when you’re quiet, soft. But I also love you when you’re loud and afraid. I love you when you’re angry because I know that anger comes from pain you never deserved.”

Will moved slowly, sitting beside you, careful not to push too far.

“You don’t have to protect yourself from me. Not with words. Not with walls. I’m not going anywhere. No matter how loud it gets. No matter how hard it feels. I’m yours. Even when it’s not easy.”

“You are not too much. You were just never given the right space to be everything you are.”

Silence.

“And I want to be that space.”

You looked at him, crumpled and broken, and you believed him, your body leaned forward. Your hand reached for his. And when you finally pulled him into you, burying your face in his shoulder, he held you like the home he promised to be.

“I don’t need you to be okay all the time,”

Will added, voice shaking a little now.

“I just need you. However you are. However you come.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair.

“I’m so sorry.”