#line judge shirt

[ufstudios77]

Soccer Dad T-Shirt – Professional Line Judge with Offside Call

You don’t need VAR when Dad’s on the sidelines ⚽ This “Soccer Dad – Professional Line Judge” tee is made for the fathers who see every offside — even if the ref doesn’t. With a bold vintage soccer ball and sunset stripe design, this shirt brings humor, pride, and a whole lot of sideline energy.

🎁 Great for Father’s Day, soccer tournaments, or just saying “Thanks, Coach Dad!”

[strewbi]

MONSTER TRUCKS!!!!!!!

[arainesque]

im tired have these georges

i just realised in the first pic i chose hes wearing the shirt in ur pfp Omg. the references...ok ill leave for real now Goodbye and goodnight

i'm going to COMBUST. greatest set of georges i've ever seen. (he looks ANGELIC. what the fuck happened during conception to make his skin look so smooth.)

thank you for blessing my inbox, i appreciate it A LOT. (i fell asleep so here's my belated goodnight and present hope u had a good day! as u deserve!) xxxxx

[sv3t1ana]

Thinking about Husband!Sukuna who just lets you do whatever the fuck you want now.

There was a time when he protested. A time when he had pride, pride in being a man, in being a fearsome king, commanding respect wherever he went.

But you?

You were relentless. So utterly, absurdly relentless that at some point, he just stopped fighting it.

He had never been a man of many words, and marriage hadn’t changed that. It was only a week ago that he sat comfortably on his throne, heavy head resting in his palm as he drifted off to sleep, until he was interrupted by the sudden weight (or loss?) on his chest.

A lesser man would have panicked, but your husband? No. He merely took a long inhale, an even longer exhale, and cracked one eye open to find your tiny, mischievous hands cupping his pecs like a scientist.

“They don’t really move like mine,” you mused, experimentally bouncing the firm muscle in your grasp.

He didn’t know if the subject of this experiment was his breaking point or whatever nonsense idea had wormed its way into your head this time.

Your expression was serious, too serious, as you moved in front of him, gripping the hem of his robe as if a scholar prepped for a dissertation.

“May I remove this?”

His eyes, half-lidded with the dull exhaustion that only centuries of being a king could bring, slowly trailed to meet yours. His lips pressed into a flat line.

You took his silence as consent.

And soon enough, his shirt was discarded, leaving him bare from the waist up as you squinted in intense concentration, leaning in close to his chest.

It was pathetic, really. The size difference. Your husband was a mountain of a man, yes, his frame large enough to dwarf yours entirely. And yet, there you were, fingers struggling to span across his tits as you earnestly attempted to jiggle them, as if you could replicate your own softness on his ironclad frame.

At one point, you had both of his pecs squished together, testing them like some critical judge at a livestock competition.

“Wow, you’re a lot different than me.”

Oh, his lovely wife. His lovely wife, who was genuinely comparing her milk-producing breasts to those of a war-hardened king.

Oh, the patience he had for you.

And despite the sheer disrespect you continually brought upon the honor of Sukuna, the King, the Conqueror, the Lord of Curses…

He still let you.

And it never stopped.

Because right now, right this very moment, he was balls-deep inside you, your knees pinned to your chest as he fucked you senseless, guttural moans echoing in the grand chamber as he pounded into your dripping cunt.

The nights the lord would bed his wife was always the same, multiple orgasms, a sore throat, bruises painting your skin like a lover’s signature, and the brutal satisfaction of a man who knew he could ruin you.

There couldn’t have been a worse time, a worse thought, and for the first time in his life, Sukuna wished, prayed, for something to be different about his wife.

“W-wait, ‘Kuna- fuck- wait-!”

Because he never wanted you in pain, never wanted you to feel anything but pleasure despite the sixth climax of the night barreling toward him, he reluctantly halted.

Oh, may the lords above grant him the strength.

Because you, thoroughly fucked out, hair knotted, sweat glistening across your body, brought your trembling hands forward,

and groped his fucking tits.

Like he was some toy for you to hold onto.

“Okay, continue.”

He stilled. In shock? In horror? In spiritual agony?

Slowly, he tried to thwart at your hands, momentarily lifting one from under your knee, but-

“No, I said continue.”

That’s right. Your wish was his command.

So he continued. And every time his cock rammed deep into your walls, every time you moaned so sinfully, your little hands squeezed tighter.

It was almost comical, your soft, delicate fingers clutching at his immovable chest as if this was your god-given right.

With a grunt, he muttered, “Why must you do this?” His brows furrowed, thrusts becoming punishing.

Through your breathless whimpers, you somehow managed, “Ngh- I just- oh, god- like them.”

His cock twitched at your honesty.

His breasts flexing in tandem.

And when your shaking fingers dared to pinch his nipple…

Oh, that was when the real fun began.

“Fuck, don’t- fuck-” He spat through gritted teeth.

Neither of you could ignore the way his back arched the tiniest bit, the way his thrusts faltered for a split second as your fingers toyed with him.

You were too far gone to form coherent sentences, let alone fucking laugh, but your lips curled in amusement, jaw slack as the wet pat-pat-pat of his cock slamming into you filled the air.

“You think this shit is funny?”

His hold on you shifted. With inhuman ease, he lifted your legs, pressing them together straight up in the air, holding your feet in a single massive hand while his other gripped your thigh in a vice.

The new position devastating.

His thick cock dragged along every sensitive spot inside you, punching deep into your cunt, the head kissing your cervix with every pump.

It was enough to wreck you, your body shuddering as your next orgasm tore through you like divine wrath.

And Sukuna, normally composed and always in control, was panting.

As you both lay side by side afterward, spent and breathless, a singular, intrusive thought carved its way into your little head.

“...Can I be big spoon tonight?”

He didn’t respond, simply sighing and rolling onto his side. Letting you attempt to wrap your arms around his impossibly broad back.

Oh, his lovely, sweet wife.

Your hand reached down, fingers splaying, grabbing a handful of his ass.

A slow, agonizing inhale.

Then a measured, exasperated exhale.

“...No more tonight. Please.”

You couldn’t see his face, your own buried between his shoulder blades.

But maybe, juuust maybe, someone, somewhere, could say there was the barest twitch of a smile on his lips.

[sillyswriting]

: ̗̀➛ something something...

“damn, your past lovers were a greedy men, aye!” johnny’s voice echoes through your flat.

he’s sitting at his desk in front of the fan, wearing nothing but his boxers. you’re sprawled out on the bed, lying on your stomach, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. just your panties and one of johnny’s old oversized military shirts hang off you. for the past few minutes, you’ve felt his eyes glued to your arse. it’s practically right in his line of sight, so you can’t exactly blame him.

you glance up at him, confused and already fed up with his nonsense. you’re used to his random comments, he says whatever pops into his head, no filter. and he knows you won’t really judge him for it, so he lets his thoughts run wild.

“what the fuck does that even mean?” you ask with a sigh, shaking your head.

you had been right, his eyes were locked on your arse, not even pretending to look away.

“well, you see, when i was waiting in line for coffee yesterday, there were these two women in front of me. really, i say women, but they were barely fourteen. i should’ve said girls,” he starts, already drifting from the main point. “so, these two girls, they were talking, right? waiting in line, of course they were talking. and i know you always tell me not to listen to other people’s conversations, but i couldn’t—”

most of the time, when his mind wandered like that, you just let him play in the background, white noise, until you heard a few keywords that meant he’d finally circled back to the point.

but right now, you’re stuck on what he said before. you’re confused, maybe a little humiliated. he hadn’t said it like an insult, it sounded casual, but still, why the hell was he talking about your past lovers?

“johnny,” you cut him off. “back to the main point. what was that about my past lover?” you snap, sharper than intended.

“yeah, sorry,” he says quickly, catching the edge in your voice. “they were talking about this theory, about beauty spots. how they’re the favorite places for your past lover to kiss you… you know, in another life and stuff? and well...”

his eyes drop again, landing on your arse, where six small, dark beauty marks scatter across the skin.

“oh,” you breathe out, feeling the heat rise to your face.

the shame bubbles up, not because you were wrong to feel thrown off, but because he hadn’t meant “past lover” in the way you thought. he wasn’t talking about before him, he meant before this life.

getting up from his chair, he kneels beside you on the bed, his eyes never leaving your arse. he doesn’t say anything, just starts grabbing at you like a kitten making bread. he kneads the skin so good, you let out a small, involuntary whine.

the way he looks at your body always amazes you. like he’s discovering it for the first time, every single time. you know johnny's a generous lover, always giving, rarely taking, and his filthy mouth never shuts up about how much he adores every inch of you.

“and you know, i was thinking…” he murmurs, slowly bending down to nip at the soft curve of your cheek. “with the way i leave teeth marks and hickeys on this pretty arse, maybe we were lovers in a past life.”

before you can respond, his mouth is back on your skin, his teeth nipping, his tongue soothing the sting. your phone slips from your hand, landing with a soft thud on the mattress as a moan escapes you.

it isn't even truly sexual, not yet. johnny just loves to worship you. he doesn’t need anything in return. he loves to kiss you, taste you, study your skin like it holds every answer he's ever wanted.

his mouth leaves your arse and begins its slow journey upward. his hands slide your shirt higher as his lips follow, until he reaches your neck. he pushes the shirt away from your shoulder and reconnects his lips with your skin a second later.

“isn’t it fucking romantic, bonnie?” he murmurs into your ear, already knowing you’re drifting into that soft, horny daze he loves. “you and me, we were always meant to be.”

he kisses a beauty spot on your neck. the one he always returns to. the one so often hidden beneath his teeth marks and hickeys, it barely has time to fade.

“you see, i fucking love this theory, baby,” he coos against your skin, laying his body over yours, grinding his now-hard cock against your arse.

“i was your lover in every fucking life you’ve ever lived. you’ve been mine since the dawn of time. always.”

©sillyswriting 2025

fun fact : i might have six beauty spots on my arse... i know no shame

[liberalsarecool]

THE ERA OF VANISHING HAS BEGUN

They are not arresting people. They are vanishing them.

Rumeysa Ozturk wasn’t read her rights. She wasn’t told why she was being detained. She was walking to break her fast in Somerville, Massachusetts when masked men in an unmarked SUV pulled up, took her phone, slapped on handcuffs, and dragged her into a vehicle like she was some kind of national security threat.

She’s a doctoral student. A Fulbright scholar. A trauma researcher. But in Donald Trump’s America, she fit the profile: Muslim, foreign-born, sympathetic to Palestinians.

Now she’s locked in a for-profit detention center in Louisiana, hundreds of miles from her lawyer, after a federal judge specifically said she wasn’t to be moved.

They moved her anyway. Because rules no longer apply to those with badges — real or fake.

A MOVEMENT BUILT ON CHAINS AND COWARDS

Alireza Doroudi is gone too.

He’s a doctoral student at the University of Alabama, born in Iran, studying mechanical engineering. No criminal record. No warning. Just scooped off the grid.

ICE refuses to say where he’s being held. No public charge has been announced. His only crime appears to be existing in the wrong body, from the wrong country, in the wrong era.

Mahmoud Khalil was next — a Columbia student, arrested for leading pro-Palestinian protests. Trump labeled him a “radical foreign Hamas sympathizer” on Truth Social. Days later, he was gone.

Jeanette Vizguerra was taken from her Target shift in Colorado, chained at the waist.

Alfredo “Lelo” Juarez, a farmworker organizer, was dragged from his car at dawn in Washington. His window was smashed by federal agents. His voice silenced.

These aren’t isolated incidents. These are deliberate acts of political intimidation.

They are testing the system — testing us — to see how many people they can disappear before we stop calling it democracy.

WHEN ICE IS A BADGE — AND A COSTUME

While the real ICE disappears scholars, organizers, and mothers, the fakes are circling like vultures.

In South Carolina, Sean-Michael Johnson posed as an ICE officer. He pulled over a van of Latino men, screamed slurs, jiggled their keys, and knocked a phone out of someone’s hand. “You’re going back to Mexico!” he shouted. He wasn’t an agent — but he played one with conviction.

In North Carolina, Carl Thomas Bennett used a fake badge to sexually assault a woman at a motel. He told her if she didn’t comply, he’d have her deported. He held up a counterfeit ID and pretended to be the state.

And in Philadelphia, a Temple University student in an “ICE” shirt tried to storm a dorm building with two accomplices. They were dressed for the part, intoxicated by the illusion of authority, emboldened by the climate.

This is what happens when the state makes cruelty a brand. When a badge becomes a fetish object. When the line between enforcement and cosplay disappears altogether.

THE WHOLE SYSTEM IS THE CRIME

Let’s stop pretending this is a coincidence.

This is a unified strategy. The Trump administration is using ICE like a personal strike force — targeting international students, protest leaders, organizers, and mothers with surgical precision.

They invoke secret designations. They bypass due process. They manufacture pretexts out of thin air and rely on the fog of bureaucracy to hide the blood on the floor.

The point isn’t law enforcement. The point is deterrence. Spectacle. Control.

This is what political cleansing looks like when it’s dressed up in the language of national security.

They’re showing the world that resistance has a cost — and the cost is your freedom, your voice, your visibility, your future.

SILENCE IS CONSENT. AND WE ARE LOUD.

There is no middle ground here. No fence to sit on. No neutral position when people are being kidnapped in the name of the state.

ICE doesn’t need your applause. It needs your silence. Every time a student vanishes and the media shrugs, every time a woman is cuffed and the public looks away, the machine gets stronger.

They are daring us to ignore it. They are counting on our numbness. They are betting that we’ll keep scrolling.

We cannot let them win.

This is not border policy. This is not visa enforcement. This is not safety.This is authoritarianism with a PowerPoint presentation.This is fascism disguised as formality.

This is the state stripping people from the land and pretending it’s order.

Let the record show:

They took people.

And we did not look away.

We saw it.

We named it.

We raised hell.

And we did not stop.

(I didn’t write this. Credit goes to Fear and Loathing: Closer to the Edge)

[barbieandkento]

₍^. .^₎⟆ synopsis: you're missing. and as your bodyguard, it's up to nanami to scour through tokyo to track you down. and maybe, fix a broken heart along the way. (bodyguard AU; gojo being a lovable idiot) word count: 3k

nanami should've known that taking his annual leave on the week of your birthday was a big mistake.

because not even half an hour after arriving at haneda airport, suitcase packed and his polo shirt pressed, he gets a phone call to his personal phone.

not his work phone.

his personal phone.

from none other than gojo satoru.

"nanami, i can't find her." gojo's panicked voice rings out from the other side, and judging by the clashing sounds of rushing cars and loud chatter in the background, gojo is wandering around a busy station somewhere in tokyo.

rubbing his forehead in an attempt to control his anger, nanami forces his tone to remain even and leveled whilst speaking to his (younger and less experienced) colleague.

"and just how did you lose her within the 30 minutes i left the compound and arrive at the airport?"

gojo sputters on the receiving end as if it's obvious.

"she said she wanted privacy to take a 'hot girl bath' so i was just waiting outside the bathroom-"

ah, of course. nanami thinks. the old "i want to take a bath" trick.

"but when she wasn't responding to what i was saying, i picked the lock on the door and the tub was empty!" nanami can hear gojo apologise to someone mid-sentence, seemingly having run into someone whilst rushing through the streets. "nanami, she left her spare phone on speaker, playing sounds of running water. she's an evil genius for fuck's sake!!!"

signalling to the boarding agent that he will no longer be boarding the flight, he turns on his heel towards the exit, already beginning to narrow down the list of places you could be in his mind.

"and let me guess, you can't track her phone?"

"well toji is trying, but apparently there's some bug on her phone that's screwing up the tracking mechanisms linked to the main computer? i don't know, a lot of computer jargon-"

flagging down a taxi, nanami lets out a curt sigh.

"alright. well, considering it's 9pm I'd say we have a solid hour and a half before she could be half-way across tokyo or half-way across the world."

"h-half away across the world?" gojo squeaks, already imagining how mad your father (his boss) is going to be. "oh my god, i'm gonna get fired."

nanami would feel bad for him if he wasn't so pissed off.

"not if we find her in the next 90 minutes. i'm on my way back, meet me at the compound."

"okay, okay. and uh... nanami?"

"yes?"

there's a moment of silence on the other end, as if gojo is carefully rethinking his words while nanami turns on his work phone to pull up his list of trusted contacts.

"thank you. so much. i-i owe you."

"you do." is all nanami says before he hangs up.

===================

given that gojo was the one working security detail when you went missing - his name on the call sheet and everything - nanami has no choice but to let him trail behind whilst he tears up half of tokyo trying to look for you.

his attention is squarely divided between looking at his work phone every few minutes (having texted every club owner, club hostess, and hotel bartender he knows of whether you've been seen at their establishment) and quietly dodging his way through crowds of people to locate you.

the first place nanami goes is your favorite club in downtown tokyo. gojo looks like a fish out of water there, his eyes nearly popping out of his head at all the attractive girls lining up to enter that nanami has to drag him by the collar to get him inside. his eyes immediately dart towards the vip booth (your usual spot) and the bar where you'd usually be seen ordering shots for your friends, but you're nowhere to be seen. the owner cuts in to say that she hasn't seen you all night.

jaw clenching, nanami has no choice but to thank the club employees and swiftly exit to save time.

the second place he tries to find you at is the total opposite. a quiet, izakaya sushi spot that only takes ten people at a time and takes months to reserve. gojo keeps trying to steal the sushi being prepared on people's plates as nanami questions (or interrogates, as gojo later complains) the chefs to your whereabouts.

apparently, the last time you were there was two weeks ago.

another bust.

then it's a fifteen minute cab ride to check out your favorite bar. nothing. a ten minute walk to your second favorite bar. still nothing. nanami's starting to get desparate, dragging gojo to the most absurd spots that you could be: an hermes store in ginza for a late night shopping spree. the okonomiyaki place that opens till 3am that you always eat at after a hangover. the art museum that does late night exhibitions on saturdays.

it's as if you're a ghost, impossible to see.

tokyo at 10pm is a blend of bright lights and fast moving cars, people bumping into each other with little regard as nanami presses himself against the brick wall of a closed down cafe, fingers trembling as he calls your best friend.

"hello?" shoko picks up almost immediately, much to his relief.

"hi, this is nanami."

"i know whose number this is, nanami. i've known you for five years."

he doesn't have the time for her sass today, letting the comment fly past him.

"listen, it's urgent. are you with (y/n) right now?"

"(y/n)?" she seems surprised at the question. "no. in fact, i asked her if she wanted to hang out today and she said she wasn't feeling well."

that surprises nanami. one, because you never do anything without her, and two, because for all accounts you were nowhere near sick when you waved him goodbye just a few hours ago.

"is something wrong?" she asks, voice tinged with concern. nanami suppresses a sharp sigh, smiling through the pain.

"nothing's wrong, just... let me know if she calls, okay?"

"o-okay. i'll let you know if she calls. promise."

"thank you."

gojo's been staring at nanami intently for the whole three minute conversation, fingers twitching nervously by his sides.

"she's not with shoko?" he knows the answer, but still asks.

"nope."

"oh my god i'm gonna get fired." gojo whispers in despair, pulling at his hair. nanami's only half listening, shutting off gojo's desperate whines as he plans out their next move. "oh my god i didn't think this would happen to me. i didn't think she'd run out, i just thought she was a little bit upset and needed time to cool off-"

nanami stops pacing around at that, head whipping around to look straight at his colleague

"what did you just say?"

gojo freezes.

"that i'm gonna get fired?!"

"no, before that. she was upset?"

gojo blinks at him, confused as to why he's being grilled on this particular point.

"well... yeah. her dad came into her room after you left and announced that he'd be flying to see his girlfriend in london for a few weeks."

realization washes over nanami like a tidal wave as his expression loosens, lips thinning in a contemplative manner. this, combined with shoko's comments of you faking sick, means there's only one place you could be at this hour.

"why's that important?" the younger man questions, still confused.

"i know where she is." nanami coughs, pocketing his phone into his suit jacket.

"great!" gojo brightens up at that, clapping his hands together. "where are we going to find her?"

"... this is a solo mission now, gojo."

gojo pouts at that, genuinely upset at nanami's refusal.

"what?! that's not fair! is this because i was the one who lost her? look, i already said sorry a million times-"

nanami raises his hand, shutting off gojo's ramblings.

"it's not about that, gojo. it's just... as her bodyguard of five years, i know when i need to approach her alone." he looks up at gojo, silently pleading with his eyes. "and i need to do this alone."

gojo opens his mouth, as if to argue again, but the words die in his mouth when he notices how serious nanami looks.

because it's not the usual, "professional and stern" type of serious nanami exudes.

instead, there's a mix of worry and sadness swimming in his irises.

===================

you love yoyogi park during this time of day.

there's not many people out, it being far too dark and cold for most people to want to hang out with friends or walk their dogs.

but that's what you like about being here this late.

to sit near the small fountain in the dark, stare at the ripples of water as the ducks drift by. the only sounds around you being the night breeze rustling through the trees and the twinkling of water.

here, you're alone. truly alone. no dad criticizing you underneath his breath, eyes full of discontent and frustration. no random junior employee trying to suck up to you to get a promotion at your father's company. and no bodyguard (or bodyguards, more accurately) tracking your every move.

you'd climbed out the bathroom window in just your t-shirt, sleep shorts and a light cardigan. you regret that decision now as you shiver, hugging the cardigan closer to your body.

then, suddenly, warmth envelopes you as someone's jacket is placed squarely on your shoulders.

"there you are." nanami's voice rings out in the dark.

surprisingly, you think, he doesn't sound angry (not fully, at least).

instead, he sounds tired, worried, and slightly pissed off (all at once).

"i don't need your jacket." you quip, as he sits down on the grass next to you.

the moment the lie leaves your lips, you're shivering, which doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"i'd rather you not get pneumonia and become bed-ridden for 3 weeks." he deadpans, making you turn around and lightly shove his shoulder.

"hey!" you pout, a sight which nanami finds adorable. "that was only once. and two years ago."

he hums, unconvinced.

"sure. but your father never let us live it down."

the mention of your father makes your smile drop, your mouth immediately souring at the thought.

"well who cares what he thinks." your tone is venomous, and with the way your shoulders suddenly tense up, nanami knows he's hit a sore spot. he lets the tense silence hang in the air, knowing that it's important to choose his next words carefully.

"what happened to your nightly bath?" an innocent, light question. a subtle reminder that you broke the rules by abandoning your assigned bodyguard.

you scoff, digging your heels into the dirt.

"well, that went out the window the moment my father told me he'd be leaving me - hell, the whole country - to go see his new twenty something girlfriend in london for a month."

"he's gonna miss your birthday?"

you scoff.

"yeah. but when does he not? i was stupid for thinking this year would be an exception. i guess i got my hopes up because-" your voice slightly breaks, and nanami has to fight his urge to hug you then and there. "because i'd done everything he asked me to do the past year. i went to the stylists he picked out. accepted a job at a company he approved of. smiled my way through every awful 'arranged date' with a wealthy man."

nanami's heart twists with jealousy at the mention of these dates, but he doesn't dare interrupt your rant.

"i thought i was actually living up to the family name. that maybe, if i'd sacrificed everything to make him happy, say no to that job abroad in germany to stay in tokyo and be the perfect heir, he'd...." your gaze travels downward, your hands nervously fiddling with the hem of his suit jacket. "he'd stay. this time."

nanami shifts closer to you, carefully extending his right arm to curl against your shoulder. he pulls you against him and you melt against his touch, his body like a furnace protecting you from the cold night.

he doesn't say anything, only rubbing reassuring circles onto your skin. it's your favorite place in the world to be in - in his arms, feeling his touch. you feel safe as you hum in appreciation, a quiet but sullen recognition of the depressing truth.

"you scared gojo to death, you know." nanami mumbles. "poor kid kept on panicking about how he was going to get fired because he lost his boss' kid not even a month into his job."

you let out a short chuckle at that, head unmoving from where it rests on nanami's shoulder.

"you're partially to blame for that."

"am i?" he quips, smirking.

"well, you planned your annual leave on the week of my birthday."

it comes out more resentful than you mean it to. more resentful than you're allowed to be, at least, given that he's just your bodyguard. a very close friend, a confidant at best.

but you'd taken it personally, him going on vacation during a week special to you. and your father's sudden announcement had been the last straw.

you can feel nanami stiffen at your comment, his head twisting down to look at you. even in the darkness, you can make out the contours of his face, how his lips pull down in a frown and his eyebrows furrow in worry creating a dimple on his forehead.

"have i upset you with the change of dates for my annual leave?" he questions. unlike your father, when you disagree with him, nanami is calm and caring. "i know i usually don't take it this time of the year."

"it's stupid. i know. but..." you pull away from him slightly to look up straight at him. "you've been there for all my other birthdays. so i wanted you to be there for this one too."

his heart breaks at your confession. he knows you've been finding work life in tokyo difficult. your father's overbearing and tempermental, his expectations of you crushing, your colleagues always doubting your abilities due to your father's wealth and connections. nanami's also seen all of your breakdowns behind closed doors, the hours of fake smiling at social events, the sleepless nights where you wouldn't be able to sleep unless nanami was holding your hand.

guilt is gnawing at his sides and he chastises himself for not thinking through the consequences of how you'd feel about the change.

"i'm so sorry, angel." he gathers your hands in his, kissing your knuckles. "i didn't think enough about how you'd feel before i changed my dates of annual leave."

"thanks, nanami. but... i mean, you shouldn't have to worry about me anyways." you try and shrug it off, but he interrupts you.

"nonesense. i always worry about you." is his earnest response, and you know you have to deflect with humor to still your irregularly beating heart.

"i get it, i'm difficult." you tease, poking his chest.

his expression remains serious, earnest even.

"difficult isn't the word i'd use to describe you. not even close."

"really? then what is?"

that seems to set something off in him, because he drops your hands, instead opting to maintain eye contact with you as he speaks slowly.

"you're kind. caring. hardworking. you care about the people around you. you're always seeing the best in people, even when they might not deserve it. and you're one of the most incredible people i've ever met in my life."

you blink at him a few times, surprised by the sudden admission.

"and you're so, so..." he cradles your face in his hands, his gaze never wavering from your face. "beautiful."

"oh."

your small reaction awakes something in him, his hands suddenly ripping away from your face as he abruptly stands up - face flushing red and his eyes looking anywhere but you.

"sorry, that was unprofessional." he coughs, straightening his collar in an attempt to stop his hands from shaking. "we should, uh, head back."

"wha- nanami!"

you have to run after him with how quickly he's starting to walk away from you, not even sparing a glance back to see if you're following him as he nearly sprints down the dirt paths.

"nanami, stop."

he slows down, but doesn't stop in his tracks. stubborn bastard.

"stop. that's an order."

he has to stop then, which you know.

jaw clenched and shoulders slightly raised - he turns around obediently, waiting for your response.

he half expects you to let him down. to say that you've appreciated his company and advice over the last five years, but that you don't see him in a romantic light.

or maybe, you'll fire him on the spot in fear of your father's reaction. he can't imagine how your father would react at the news of your top bodyguard professing his attraction to you.

instead, you crash into him, lips connecting first as nanami places his arms around your waist to avoid toppling over. it takes his brain a few seconds to register what is happening, your body warm and soft against his touch, before he's eagerly returning the kiss. you taste like peppermint on his lips, and at this proximity, he can smell how sweet your shampoo is.

when you pull away first, he's still dazed, mind fuzzy with love as he surveys how swollen your lips have become from the kiss. his left hand comes up to cup your cheek again, fingertips brushing against your skin when you smile cheekily.

"who's the unprofessional one now?" you tease, lips hovering a few centimeters away from his.

you mean it as a cute comment, but nanami immediately shifts back into his professional tone, lips pursing in annoyance.

"definitely gojo. honey, he lost you in the middle of his shift!"

a/n: ayyy a short little oneshot whilst i work on pt 2 to my husband!nanami with memory loss fic!!! basically my brain was itching to write and post something today but i need more time on the second part. also, i've been obsessed with the idea of bodyguard!nanami, i just think he'd be so protective and sweet. anyways. wrote this in like 2 hours so sorry if it's bad :(

ᯓ★ likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! ᯓ★

[dollfacefantasy]

IF I WAS A RICH GIRL PT.3 ♡

pairing: bodyguard!jason todd x fem!reader x bodyguard!dick grayson

summary: the events of last night leave an ugly mark on your relationship with jason that also bleeds over into your time with dick. will the three of you find a way to make things work? or will some other security firm have to take on your case?

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, angst, double penetration (p in v + anal), fingering, car sex, edging, hints of exhibitionism, light brat taming, arguments, mommy + daddy issues

wc: 19.3k (good heavens)

a/n: the rock (me) has finally come back to tumblr dot com. i hope you guys like this chapter!! it's dramatic as fuck, but isn't that the fun of fanfic. and thank you for all the love on this story!! i'll have the next one out soon-ish. peace and love, reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

part 1 | part 2

When your eyes finally opened again, you found yourself alone in bed.

The room was bright now, and the TV had been turned off. It was quiet, no soft breaths coming from either side of you, no hushed voices chattering back and forth above your head.

You sat up slowly. Judging by the intensity of the sunlight outside, it was a little later in the morning than you’d usually wake up. That explained why your bedroom was vacant spare yourself.

Your hand came up to rub the sleep from your eyes. Flashes from a few hours ago flooded your mind. Jason’s hands around your throat. Dick’s quiet retelling of the past. The harsh words exchanged on the balcony through the biting winter air.

How had everything shifted so much in such a short span of time?

You dragged yourself from the comforts of your pillows and blankets and stumbled into the ensuite bathroom. Your movements came slower, less motivated, like your body was weighed down with the pain from the night before. It was weird. As you moved, you felt this weight in your chest. Some lighter form of mourning. One that came laced with a substantial dose of anxiety. You tried not to dwell on it while brushing your teeth.

It just didn’t make sense to you. How could someone that’d only been in your life for such a short amount of time leave you feeling so out of sorts? A month ago, you didn’t know Jason or Dick existed. You’d lived for years and years without them. Even having them around now, it wasn’t anything serious. It wasn’t as though they were your boyfriends. They were just supposed to be for fun. And like with all your other objects of entertainment; when you tired of them, you should be able to start looking for the next. Never before had you been this unsettled by the possibility of losing one — or technically two.

Though, it probably wasn’t fair to think about the whole issue as if it was a collective one. Dick hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, he’d made all the right decisions. He told you not to go down there, to just leave Jason to his own devices for the night. You just thought you knew better.

As soon as you’d spit in the sink for the final time, back to your bedroom you went. Your luxurious pajamas landed in the nearby hamper in exchange for a soft pair of sweats and an oversized shirt from your dresser. You weren’t going anywhere today. There was no reason to dress up. Normally, you’d try a little more for something cute, but with the mood you were in right now, flipping through random pieces of clothing to find something pretty and comfortable was the last thing you wanted to do.

With a huff, you exited your room and headed across the lofted walkway to the stairs. You could hear their voices coming from downstairs. They were muffled, hushed under the assumption you could wake and enter the room at any time.

You padded down the staircase. As soon as you stepped into the living room, you saw them in the kitchen at the counter. Dick was on one side, eyes laced with concern and his lips in a straight, displeased line. Jason stood on the other. His head hung down towards the marble.

Neither of them saw you right away.

For a few seconds, you considered going back upstairs. You weren’t really in the mood for talking things out or forgiveness of any kind. But Jason wasn’t your boyfriend. He was your bodyguard, and you were gonna have to be around him at some point or another unless he asked for a reassignment. You figured it would be best to just get it out of the way now, to avoid letting the tension mount into anything more.

So you headed further into the room. You dragged your feet a little, trying to make some noise that would alert them to the fact that you were there. The small scuffles didn’t pull them out of their conversation with each other though.

It wasn’t until you were a few paces behind Dick that Jason caught sight of you. Like an ashamed dog, his eyes lowered towards the countertop he was leaning against. His usual demeanor had seemingly vanished. It was weird. You didn’t know what you’d anticipated from him, but it wasn’t this.

Jason shying away clued Dick in to your presence. He turned around, and to your relief, he seemed the same as normal. His soft eyes and faint smile beckoned you closer despite the awkwardness from the guy standing a few feet from him.

You tentatively walked the rest of the way to them. Even though he tried being subtle, you noticed how his eyes fell to the base of your throat, clearly trying to see how visible the marks from Jason’s fingers had turned out to be.

If today was any of those that came before, you probably would have been all over him and then bound around the island to give Jason the same treatment. Arms would have snuck around waists, and your face would have squished against either of their chests. Maybe if you were lucky (which, with them, you always were) they’d be kind enough to part your legs and start your day off extra nice.

But today, your palms stayed flat on the cold countertop. Your feet remained planted on the ground below you. You didn’t say anything, not a joke to break the ice or an accusation to bring the conflict to a boiling point. Just nothing. Absolute silence permeated the kitchen, and you found your eyes mimicking Jason’s gaze at the sleek marble.

The invisible wall of ice that had formed around you was broken by Dick’s hand landing between your shoulder blades.

“There she is,” he said, ever the mediator. “You sleep ok?”

“Yeah,” you answered. Your voice came out quiet. Maybe the quietest you’d been over the course of their stay.

You could tell he was trying to take some of the weight from the two of you, but everything still felt so overwhelming. 

His hand started to move in tight circles on your back, easing some of the tension in your shoulders. But when one part of you calmed down, it seemed like your anxiety just targeted somewhere else. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you tried to will your eyes to look at Jason. It shouldn’t be that hard… It was just an argument. Not the end of the world. Your body couldn’t seem to accept that though.

“How are you feeling?” Dick asked next. His hand slipped around to your front, boosting your chin to give him a clear look at your neck.

“I’m ok,” you said and shrugged. 

You took a step back from him and shuffled over to the fridge. Normally, you ate up attention like that. Milking injuries had become almost a natural talent for you at this point in your life. You’d picked it up at eight years old when you sprained your ankle during a tennis lesson. You continued with it at fourteen when your driver got into a car accident on the way home from school that left you with a fractured wrist. And you’d stuck with it at eighteen when you’d tripped while walking into one of your father’s campaign events.

One of the only times your father felt a need to take your side was when he believed someone or something else had harmed his daughter. Playing up how victimized you felt never failed to get you attention. It just didn’t feel right in this case.

If anything, for the first time in your life, you didn’t feel that desperate need to be noticed. You’d much rather shrivel up and seep into the crevices between the floorboards. Any attention to the small markings circling your neck just brought you shame, and more so, they made you worry about Jason. If you felt embarrassed and guilty, you could only imagine how he was doing.

It was kind of odd. You couldn’t remember feeling so subdued about something like this ever before. You’d been allowed to quit tennis over your ankle. You’d cried and cried for weeks about how terrified you were because of the car accident. And you’d thrown a monumental fit over the falling incident. All without ever for a second questioning yourself.

You could still sense Dick’s concerned stare on your back as you popped open the large refrigerator and briefly scanned the shelves for something to eat. Nothing looked good today. You nudged the steel doors closed again.

A quiet sigh left your lips. You knew you should try saying something, but it just felt weird with Dick standing there, almost supervising you and Jason like two rowdy pups that couldn’t be left alone together. You were sure Jason had told him what happened. How honest he’d been was the real question, but Jason was so hard on himself, you doubted he’d try to paint himself in a better light by withholding details.

Your eyes flitted between them, deciding how you should broach the subject, or if you should broach it all. Would pretending everything was fine be better? Who should you even address? It would be awkward to just talk as if Dick wasn’t there, but what business of his was it how ugly Jason made you feel?

Seconds later, as if some divine force heard your internal gripes, Dick’s phone rang from upstairs.

“Damn,” he said, looking between the lofted walkway and the pair of you. He seemed reluctant to leave. “I’ll be right back.”

You tried not to look too relieved as he left the room. With a deep breath, you took the spot he’d been standing in. Right across from Jason.

He finally looked at you. His murky green eyes stared across the island into your own. Your heart skipped a couple beats. You had to swallow down the nausea creeping up on you.

“I hope you know I feel like shit about what I said…” he started quietly.

You couldn’t take it. You looked down at the counter again where your fingers fidgeted idly with one another.

“You don’t have to. I know you were really upset. I shouldn’t have intruded,” you said at a similar volume.

“That’s no excuse. I should have better control.”

“Everyone slips up now and then…” you said and shrugged. “We can just forget about the whole thing.”

For a moment, you found the courage to look at him once more. But it evaporated just as fast upon seeing his expression. He looked worse than before. Sadness had mixed in with his shame, and it made you feel like throwing up.

“Really,” you continued. “It’d probably be for the best if we just moved past it. I’m not gonna hold it against you or whatever.”

“You could if you wanted to. You haven’t had trouble calling me out for anything else. I’d deserve it,” he said.

The words hung between the two of you. This was obviously not “anything else.” This wasn’t him teasing you with an annoying nickname or insulting your choice of clothing. This was him calling you out with nearly psychic precision, striking each of your insecurities with shattering force.

You simply shook your head. “It’s fine. I’d really rather just forget about it,” you said.

The ceiling creaked overhead, presumably from Dick walking around while taking that call. You hoped it would last a while longer. For once you didn’t want anyone on your side. You didn’t want him playing mediator.

Jason seemed reluctant to accept your answer, but given you were the one hurting it wasn’t like he had room to argue.

“If that’s what you want…” he said. “But just… I didn’t mean what I said.”

Maybe if you were in a better mood you’d roll your eyes or laugh at that. If it wasn’t such a sensitive topic, if the words didn’t hurt just to recall, if they didn’t apply to you, maybe you would have been happy to call him on this too.

“Yeah you did,” you said. “But I don’t blame you for it.”

“I don’t want-”

“Please just let me move on from it,” you continued. “I don’t want things to be weird from now on just cause you said a couple things about me.”

“It wasn’t just a couple things. You don’t have to-” he tried, but you took a couple steps back now. 

It was too much. You were trying to be the opposite of how you normally would act. You were trying to be better. Why was he pushing back? It felt like there was no way to win.

“It was, and I’m ok, really. I’d rather just leave it in the past and forget. I’m a big girl. I can handle a few mean words,” you brushed off.

He stared at you with those sad, traumatized-pitbull eyes but didn’t say anything more. You headed back to the stairs, following your original plan of retreating to your room for the rest of the day. Maybe time would make this feel better. A few days would allow the pain to dull, and things could go back to normal.

Nearly a week went by, and unfortunately, you’d been wrong. Things had not gone back to normal.

They weren’t as bad as that first day. For that first twenty-four hours after, tension was built into the very walls of the penthouse. You stayed in your bedroom, only going downstairs in the evening to grab some food.

Dick lingered around. He so obviously wanted to check on you and make sure you were doing alright while you so obviously did not want to talk about anything related to the incident with Jason. You didn’t know what Jason got up to most of that day. He never came up to try and see you or anything. He respected your space like you hadn’t with him. That thought made you feel worse.

That night you dreamt about the two of them. It wasn’t a nightmare. You didn’t thrash around like Jason had the night before. There was no intense action or dire situations. Instead, it felt empty. You walked around a world inside your head where both of them had left you, where they had moved onto other cases and left you behind as nothing more than a memory.

Your eyes opened in the darkness of your room. You didn’t have a racing heart or a frantic mind. Rather a sense of melancholic dread rattled around inside your chest.

You decided then and there that you would make sure your dream stayed just that. It wouldn’t become real. They wouldn’t just serve the rest of their time on your case like some awkward prison sentence. You always got what you wanted, and this would be no exception.

So the next day and every day that came after that you changed your strategy.

The next day you went downstairs, dressed like you normally would. You kept your head held high and your shoulders back, and you acted as if Jason had never called you the poster-child for daddy issues.

Dick seemed willing to play along with you like usual. He didn’t acknowledge how upset you’d been, content to move on exactly like you had asked. In his eyes, there was no use prolonging the whole thing. It wasn’t like you and Jason had gone back to being at each other’s throats, so that was good enough for him.

On the other hand, Jason wasn’t as easy to satisfy. It wasn’t that he disapproved of the way you chose to handle yourself. He wasn’t out right mean to you or anything like that either. He simply became… distant.

And you fucking hated it. You’d honestly prefer him tearing into you to whatever weird awkward limbo the penthouse had settled into now.

When the three of you went places, he remained completely professional. His eyes watched everyone in the room but you. And at home he was the same. He kept to himself, stayed silent during meals spare a few comments here and there. He wouldn’t joke around with you like before, but he wouldn’t mock you either. He was just indifferent, and it was driving you fucking crazy.

Dick tried reassuring you that it was normal. You hadn’t done anything wrong, this was just how Jason could be some times. He was a private guy, and when something was bothering him, he kept it to himself until it went away or his frustration bubbled over.

You tried accepting it, but it was a difficult transition. Jason spent most of his free time up in the guest room you’d assigned him to on his first day. A tiny piece of your brain assumed it was only a matter of time until he packed up his things and left you to Dick alone. You could imagine it — just waking up to him being gone. His stuff cleared from his room, his motorcycle gone from the parking lot. Not a word of goodbye. An exit as quick as he entered, leaving no evidence that he was ever a part of your life.

The whole dilemma consumed your thoughts while you tried watching this movie with Dick. You sat against him with his arm around your shoulders, your foot bouncing on the floor while anxiety completely clouded your mind. The fact that you had seen this movie before wasn’t helping you focus any.

You looked up at him to check how he was faring but found his head tilted back against the soft cushion. His eyes had fallen shut while his breaths came out at a slow, steady rhythm.

Just to be sure, you nudged him once.

“Dick?” you whispered.

Still nothing.

Ever so carefully, you pulled away from his body. Half of you expected him to wake up at the feeling of movement or the sudden lack of warmth pressed to his side, but he didn’t. He stayed sound asleep as you retreated from the living room and headed towards the stairs.

You knew it probably wasn’t the smartest decision. Shouldn’t you have learned your lesson about chasing after Jason? But even if the events of that night repeated, it didn’t matter. Fighting would be better than constant, unending tension. That was what you told yourself anyways.

As you crept along the walkway, you didn’t hear anything coming from his room. You wondered if he was sleeping already. The lights were still on though. You could see a sliver shining from where the door was opened just a crack.

Upon peeking inside, you didn’t know what you expected to see. Whenever Jason was with you, he seemed to do things he knew would entertain you or occupy your attention. Right now though, in the solitary peace of the bedroom, you found him reading.

He was lying on his bed, one hand holding the book apart above his head. His eyes scanned the pages quietly until his other set of fingers came up to turn the page. You stood there for a few moments, contemplating whether or not you should interrupt. But your longing for him won out over the small ability to be considerate you possessed.

You pushed the door open another foot or two and rapped your knuckles on the frame. See, you were being better. Two weeks ago, you never would have knocked.

He looked away from the pages at the sound. Once he saw it came from you, he sat up, putting the book on his nightstand.

“Oh, you don’t have to…” you started, but really you wanted his full attention, so you stopped yourself short.

“It’s fine. Did you need something?” he said simply.

You stood there for a few moments, not knowing what to do. Because, yes, you did need something. You needed him to stop being so fucking stiff. You were about one monotonous reply away from crawling on your knees and begging for him to disrespect you like a normal person again.

“Um… I just wanted to see you,” you said instead. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

Taking a leap of faith, you walked into the room a few paces. He didn’t tell you to get out or back up, so in your mind, that was a good sign.

“Yeah?” he said.

You nodded. “I feel like I haven’t seen you that much lately…” you continued.

A huff of what sounded like laughter came from his lips, yet he didn’t appear happy. “Well, I’m doing fine. Same as always, you know,” he shrugged.

“Are you? You don’t seem the same…” you said, walking even closer to his bed. “I just…”

You couldn’t get the words out. Every sentence you spoke felt like traversing a field of landmines.

“You just what?” he asked.

Your eyes fell to his blankets covering the mattress. Part of you had hoped that he would just understand what you were trying to say. That he would want things to go back to normal as badly as you did.

You sat down on the edge of his bed. Your first instinct was to get more confrontational. Dragging this out was painful. It would be so much easier to strike, to force him to tell you why he’d been acting this way, why he’d been punishing you for his own actions. But you knew that would only make things worse.

“It’s nothing. Nevermind…” you finally answered. “What were you reading?”

You were trying your hardest to appear unaffected. It wasn’t the best performance you’d ever given, but if he saw through it, he spared you the torture of saying something.

“Nothing special. Doubt it would be your taste.”

“How do you know? I like all kinds of things.”

“Do you even like to read?” he asked. 

“Oh come on,” you scoffed. “I’m not stupid if that’s what you’re trying to say.”

For the first time in days, a bit of his spark flickered back to life. 

“That’s not what I’m trying to say. It just doesn’t seem like something you’d enjoy doing. Reading takes patience. Something you don’t have a lot of.”

You knew he was joking, but it stung. The words sliced into you like fresh cuts on already wounded flesh. They were just another way he disapproved of you.

“I have the patience… I used to do it a lot more when I was younger, but if something interests me, then I’ll read it.”

Getting all sad probably wouldn’t help your case, so you tried remaining lighthearted. You didn’t want anything serving as a callback to the other night. If that meant shoving your feelings down and putting on the face you wanted him to see, you could. You’d had a lot of practice at that over the years.

You rolled your eyes and crawled closer to him. “Just tell me what you’re reading,” you said. 

Maybe you just had to take the first step. If you could entice him into playing along with you, that could repair things.

“Why are you so interested?” he said. He wasn’t moving away at all. That was good.

“I wouldn’t be if you weren’t being so secretive,” you replied.

The two of you stared each other down for a few seconds before you lunged for the nightstand. He sprung into action just as quickly. His arms looped around your waist, keeping you away from your target. For a split second, everything fell back into place.

You squirmed in his grasp, playfully wrestling him a little. He did it right back. The size advantage he had on you made it a quick struggle. In no time, you were flat on your back, pinned to the mattress with him above.

He gazed down at you, and he looked like the Jason you knew. There wasn’t any forced restraint or haunted resignation. His features relaxed, his eyes softened. All as he focused on you.

You opened your mouth to taunt him again but he beat you to it.

“Pet Sematary,” he answered. “Pretty basic.”

You grinned up at him, elated at his shift in attitude. And he actually smiled back at you. It wasn’t a big one, but it rarely was with Jason. If anything, it was the best case scenario for this situation, so you were more than pleased.

That was until his eyes drifted down. It was a natural movement, one he had done many times before while on top of you. But now his pupils didn’t catch on your collarbone or breasts. Instead, the marks on your throat brought them to a halt.

The little bruises from his fingers had almost healed by now. They were barely there, close to being completely faded. But that wasn’t good enough for him.

He brought one of his hands to your neck. His index finger traced over them, dragging across them as if playing connect the dots. That smile melted away in seconds.

You grabbed his hand, gently wrapping your fingers around his palm. “They don’t hurt,” you said softly.

“Doesn’t matter. They shouldn’t be there at all.”

“It was just an accident, Jason,” you said. Your voice had gone so quiet it was only a couple decibels louder than a whisper.

“One that never would have happened if I was doing my job,” he said. He brought your hand to his lips, leaving a soft kiss on your knuckles before he let you go entirely and sat up.

You followed him upright. “Oh come on. This isn’t… It’s not like that,” you said. You were trying your hardest to be careful and not overstep again. “Even if you were being the absolute pinnacle of professionalism, that still could have happened.”

“It wouldn’t have,” he said.

“It could have. It’s not like you were distracted, so I got hurt or something. It was totally out of your control. There was nothing to protect me from there. You let your guard down because I let you. Because this isn’t like your other jobs. You couldn’t have done anything to stop this.”

He shook his head, dropping it into his hands for a moment. “I should have known better. Even if there’s nothing to protect you from, I shouldn’t be putting you in danger by letting you get so close to me.”

Without even thinking about it, you rose to your knees behind him. Your arms draped over his shoulders, and you slotted your head against his neck. You could feel his heart beating with your own against his back. Your eyes closed. You couldn’t help but think he might have been right in saying you were out of your depth the other night.

“Don’t say that,” you whispered with a few kisses to the back of his neck. “You pushing me away for the whole week feels worse than a few seconds of your hand on my throat.”

His fingers began to trace small lines up and down your forearm. “It was a few seconds then, but it could have been so much worse. It’s not worth the risk,” he said.

“Yes, you are,” you said, bordering on pleading. Your arms' grip grew tighter around him. “I miss you, Jason. And it’s so fucking stupid because you’re right here. I see you everyday. You’re only ever a few rooms away. But I miss you. You feel so far away, and I hate it.”

What you really hated was the fact that you could feel your throat starting to close up and tears stinging your eyes. In an attempt to keep them hidden, you squished your face against the back of his neck harder. It had been years since you had this much trouble hiding pain. The last time had to be almost a decade ago, some time during your teenage years.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. But he didn’t take it back. He didn’t pull you closer. He didn’t say anything that gave you the impression he’d be letting you in again any time soon.

“Don’t be,” you said, your voice cracking against your will. “Don’t be sorry, just be normal. Just be how you were. Just stop shutting me out.”

“I can’t. Hurting you fucks me up too, you know? I can’t do it again,” he said softly. He sighed and gently began to peel your arms off of him. “You’re a sweet girl. For all your attitude, you got a good heart buried in there somewhere. All that shit I gave you, it was just-”

“Wh-what?” you stuttered incredulously. A few tears leaked from your eyes simply because of how much they had widened. You wiped them away as quickly as you could. “What are you doing? Why are you talking like this is a break up or something? Like you’re trying to let me down gently?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to make you feel better, but-”

“Oh my god. You are. My bodyguard is dumping me,” you said and pulled back from him all on your own.

He looked at you, not in anger or satisfaction. If anything, he just looked tired.

“Call it what you want. I just want you to know that I didn’t mean that shit I said, and I don’t want you believing any of it. That’s it.”

“That’s it?” you repeated, your regular attitude clawing its way back to the surface. “So what? You’re just gonna ignore me for the rest of the time you’re here?”

“No. I’m gonna talk to Dick tomorrow about reassignment.”

Hearing that shattered what little you had left of your more demure facade. The words struck you like bullets. You got off the bed and onto your feet. Playing nice was bullshit if this is what it got you.

“Well go ahead then! Do whatever you want! Just leave like nothing ever happened! If you think I’m gonna beg you to stay here, you’re crazy!” you snapped.

He just stared at you, which only made you feel more pathetic. Here you were yet again, stamping your feet and trying to hold back tears over an argument. The only difference between then and now was he sat behind a desk instead of on the other side of a bed.

You didn’t wait for a response. Getting out was all that mattered. You turned on your heel and practically tore the door off its hinges as you left. It stayed ajar while you stormed down the remainder of the walkway. When you went into your own room, that door slammed firmly behind you.

The loud bang from upstairs snapped Dick awake. He came out of the haze of sleep immediately on edge when he realized you were no longer at his side.

After shutting the tv off and rubbing the drowsiness from his eyes, he headed up there. On the way past Jason’s room, he peered inside. All he got from him was a grim look and a shaking head. At least he could be sure nothing was seriously wrong now.

He headed the rest of the way to your room and slipped inside without a sound. It was quiet in there — dark spare the dim glow of your bedside lamp. He’d expected worse for some reason. You seething or in tears, pacing with some furniture knocked over or at least a couple pillows scattered around.

But you were just lying on your bed, completely still and silent. It was only when he got closer could he see that you were nearly vibrating with how upset you were.

“Hey, you disappeared on me,” he said while approaching the bed. He started off light, trying to get a read on just how bad your mood was. All the bickering he’d seen between you and Jason prior to this was just that — bickering. But the door slamming hadn’t sounded like the conclusion to a minor disagreement.

And you gave him no response, so he figured it was worse than whatever he thought.

He sat down on the side of the bed and leaned across to rub your shoulder. Your muscles were taut beneath your skin like a rubber band close to snapping. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

“Jason is a fucking asshole, that’s what,” you choked out.

That was all you really said about it to him for the rest of the night. You’d give little pieces here and there about how you hated Jason and you wished he’d just left you alone to begin with. He tried coaxing out the full story, but you wouldn’t budge.

He did all that he could — stayed with you until your body went lax and your cries decreased to occasional sniffles. You just needed some time to calm down, he assumed. Tomorrow you’d tell him what happened or he’d find out from Jason, and everything would work out.

However, the morning brought a different story than he’d hoped.

You slept in much later than usual. He figured it was half due to the exhausted state you left yourself in after being so upset and half due to the overcast weather outside. The sea of clouds blocking the sun left your bedroom doused in murky gray, much darker than usual.

Once you were up, he tried offering to take you out for some breakfast. He’d drive you anywhere you wanted to go. The two of you could even walk around after, maybe do something else until you had to get ready for the fundraiser you were attending in the evening. He thought it would be good. A distraction and a way of keeping you and Jason separated.

But all it got him in return was a glare.

He raised his hands in surrender. “Not in the mood. That’s ok. Do you-”

“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me or like take me out to pity breakfast or whatever,” you interjected.

“Hey,” he said, more serious than he usually spoke. But he had to be. You had more bite in your voice than he’d heard so far. “It’s not like that. I’m doing anything out of pity, and you should know that.”

“Well that’s what it feels like. I can deal with being upset, you know. I don’t need you trying to handle it or distract me,” you huffed. You rose from your bed and began putting the pillows and blankets back into place with obvious irritation.

It was becoming clear to him that you were just in a pissy mood, and you were going to be difficult for the sake of it. Jason’s warning from that first day rang through his head again. Maybe his charm had reached its expiration date with you. But unlike Jason, he didn’t have a problem remaining cordial with you.

“Fine. If you need space, I’ll leave you alone,” he said as he began to back up towards the door.

Before he could leave, you asked one more thing. “Have you talked to Jason yet?”

His brow raised at the word yet. “No,” he replied.

“You should. He’s the one that could use handling,” you grumbled while walking towards the ensuite bathroom.

He just let you go without saying anything else. It was probably for the best that he did talk to Jason while you mellowed out some more.

“What did you do?” he asked as he entered Jason’s room without so much as a knock.

Jason, who had been in the middle of doing some sit ups on the ground next to the large windows, didn’t stop his reps upon Dick’s intrusion. He simply glanced over at him, unamused.

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“You know what I’m talking about. Why is she so upset?”

Finally, he sat up for good. Though he didn’t seem eager to have the conversation. With a bitter laugh, he shook his head and stood up.

“She told you it was my fault?” he said.

Dick paused before shrugging. “In so many words.”

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. “She must be really pissed if she won’t even tell you the full story.”

“So you tell it to me.”

“There’s not much to tell. I told her I was sorry, said she was a nice girl, and told her I planned on asking you for reassignment,” he said before looking over directly at Dick. “So, I guess I’m asking now. I think I need to be moved to another case. What do you think?”

Dick rubbed his eyes. That would do it. Now it made perfect sense to him why you’d been so agitated. He sighed before making eye contact with Jason again.

“Is that really what you want?”

He nodded, expression hard and unfaltering.

“Alright… I’ll see what I can do. I’ll make a few calls tomorrow,” he said. “Are you leaving now? Or-”

“I’ll stay till you find me something else. Not like I’m in a rush. I don’t have much else to do,” he shrugged.

“You gonna come to that fundraiser tonight?”

“Might as well,” he replied.

Dick nodded. “Right… Well I’ll let you know when I work something out.”

That served as his parting statement to Jason. There wasn’t much else to discuss between the two of them. At least not right now.

He headed out, shutting the door behind him. From there, he didn’t know where to go. Technically he had his own room, but the penthouse had become a tangled web of tension. He felt like no place would bring refuge right now.

With a sigh, he headed in that direction anyways. He wasn’t happy about Jason’s decision for more reasons than he could articulate to either of you. Not only were you gonna be even more miserable when he actually left, but Dick didn’t want to see him go either. 

Jason kept things balanced around here. You and him bounced off each other, took out all your frustration towards life on one another. With him around, Dick could always be the good cop. He could forever be the one to take care of you, to fix things. He never had to deal with your attitude before this morning.

But he also didn’t want Jason to go because he knew what this was. He’d done it before. Most severely after that case went wrong, but whenever he made a mistake it seemed he couldn’t help retreating.

The same man who never turned down a fight, who talked more shit than anyone else he knew, fled at the first sign of someone wanting to get closer. Dick used to not understand, but he’d drawn conclusions over the years. No one could see the deep cracks along his surface if he ran before they ever got close enough to get a good look.

He flopped back on the bed, noticing how the mattress had less spring than the one in your room. It didn’t matter. It would be comfortable enough for him to relax until the three of you had to drive across town for the fundraiser later tonight. 

Maybe after that he could talk to Jason, try to convince him that this wasn’t something he needed to run from. If that didn’t work, maybe he’d talk to you about the importance of being able to let things go, that every rejection wasn’t a personal attack of the highest degree. Hell, maybe he could just get drunk enough at the fundraiser that the two of you would have to take care of him and come back together over that.

It didn’t matter. No option was gonna be fun, easy, or pleasant.

God, why couldn’t the two of you just go back to banging things out?

You spent most of the day in the bath. Hours went by with your body submerged in steaming, rose-scented water. It was hot enough to sting. Almost as if you believed the heat could kill the gross feeling of abandonment crawling all over you. 

Every time the water got cold, you’d refill the tub. Candle light flickered along the walls, painting the pale tiles in shadows. You watched them shift around in silence, not in the mood to occupy your attention with anything. It was too hard to focus. Everything seemed to remind you of your current dilemma, and the inability to distract yourself made you wish you hadn’t been so hard on Dick who probably would have been successful at relieving your stress.

Once you finally couldn’t stand the feeling of your water-logged skin anymore, you rose to your feet and pulled the drain. The water rushed away in an urgent spiral as you reached for a towel. The pale pink fluff dragged across every inch of your body. You shimmied it around yourself until there wasn’t a bead of water left to roll down your skin.

The rest of your routine came in that quiet, practiced way that seemed automatic. You applied a healthy coat of lotion all over, squirted a few different serums into your hands to work onto your face.

By the time you made it back to your bedroom, it was late afternoon. The sun was setting outside. From the lower angle, it cut through the clouds, painting your room a warm orange.

You still had a couple hours before that fundraiser. That stupid fucking fundraiser. Quite possibly the last place on Earth you wanted to go tonight. You couldn’t remember what charity it was for, let alone why your father was making you attend. He’d already won the election. What was the point of kissing ass now?

Staring at your phone, you tried to think of any excuse that could get you out of it. There had to be a way you could stay in and wallow instead of mingling with a bunch of walking bank accounts for the evening. Just one call feigning cramps or something…

It wasn’t worth it though, and you knew that. If you ditched this thing, you’d have to do something more torturous next week. You’d get a call from your mother about how much he did for you, how it disappointed him when you couldn’t be bothered to show some gratitude. 

When he expected you at something, you went. That was that. You dressed up all pretty, smiled for pictures, and tried to conceal your misery until you were allowed to slip away. At least now that you were older, you didn’t have to go home with them.

You walked over to your closet, running your fingertips along your options for a dress tonight. Your mother had sent you one like she did for all the events you attended with them. It was long, emerald green with off-the-shoulder sleeves. But like with all the gowns she sent you, it would stay hung up on the wardrobe door for the night.

Instead, you selected a dress that was to your liking. It was just as long as the other one but in sparkling silver. The straps were thin on your shoulders, and the waistline was snug around your figure.

You put on some makeup to match and styled your hair with a little more effort than you would on any other day. It was weird. As much as you hated things like this, you found yourself always trying your best with your appearance. No matter how many you went to, you never fully understood your own motivation. 

Part of you thought it was a way of proving something, showing off to them that you were still at the top of your game no matter what bullshit they threw at you. Another part believed it might be petty. Your mother, for all the years she treated you as competition, could now live with the fact that you were beating her each and every time.

Or then again, sometimes you believed you just liked looking nice. Who was to say?

When you had finished assembling your look, it was almost time to go. The bright orange sun had disappeared beyond the horizon, and the skyscrapers had all lit up in its place. You rose to your feet and slipped on some pumps to go with your dress before heading out of your bedroom for the first time today.

You could hear one of them downstairs in the kitchen. Dick or Jason, you couldn’t really tell. The sounds weren’t distinct enough to make a real guess. You honestly couldn’t say who you’d prefer it be right now. Both would be awkward.

It didn’t matter though. You’d have to face them both before leaving anyways. You headed downstairs and towards the kitchen quietly. Upon getting closer, you saw Dick. He stood there in a crisp black suit, fixing his tie. Even if you were in a shitty mood, you couldn’t come close to denying that he looked good.

Once he heard the click of your heels entering the room, he looked up. He seemed to have a similar reaction to your outfit. His pupils raked downward over the length of your dress before returning to your face.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft. It made you feel like total shit. You could snap at him for no reason, and he’d still talk to you as if you were the most precious person on Earth.

“Hey…” you said back.

“You look beautiful. That dress-” he said with a playful whistle, “-good choice.”

“Thank you,” you replied, looking down at the sparkles sewn into the fabric.

The prospect of apologizing for earlier popped into your head, but before you could act on it, another voice interjected.

“Ready to go?” Jason asked.

The deep timbre of his words pulled you around to finally face him. You tried to hide your reaction as best you could; though, he probably saw the way your eyes widened based on the smirk that appeared across his lips. 

Like Dick, Jason wore a dark suit. Only with him, it was much more jarring to you. Dick looked almost natural in nicer clothes. They went right along with his pretty hair and picture-perfect smile. But before this very moment, you’d never even imagined Jason in clothes other than the plain shirts and pants he normally wore.

His shoulders were so broad and his arms so thick that part of you would have thought a suit would look comical on him. But that clearly wasn’t the case as he stood before you now, dressed in fabrics tailored to him exactly.

“See something you like?” he asked. He stepped in your direction before slowly doing a 360, mocking the way you’d shown off to him time and time again.

“I’m looking at you, aren’t I? So obviously not,” you said flatly, looking away before you embarrassed yourself further.

“Ouch, that hurts, you know,” he said, unable to hide his amusement as he feigned a wince.

“Why are you even coming? Don’t you have some place better to be yet?”

“I didn’t know you were so eager to see me go,” he taunted. “But not yet. Plus, I don’t want to miss one of my last chances to enjoy the pleasure of your company.”

Your expression grew more irritated, but before things could get any worse, Dick’s hand landed on the small of your back.

“Let’s head out if we’re all ready to go,” he said.

Reluctantly, you nodded. You shuffled towards the exit of the penthouse, grabbing your clutch off the side table on your way there. 

Just a few hours. You could get through this.

Your hand shielded your eyes from the few flashing lights that shrouded the entrance of this place. It wasn’t a swarm by any means, just a few photographers here and there from local papers. Definitely not the largest crowd you’d seen before the doors of an event you were dragged to.

Not far behind, you could hear Dick handling the valet and Jason shutting the back door. You didn’t bother waiting for them. You made your way up the stone steps to the doors of the hotel without stopping for a single picture.

A hand slipped around the crux of your elbow as you got closer to the large glass front. You didn’t have to look to know it was Dick. While his and Jason’s hands weren’t that much different physically, their touch was like night and day. The way they grabbed and handled and held alone was enough for you to separate the two.

“Something wrong?” you asked quietly.

“I should be asking you that with the way you bolted,” Dick replied at the same volume.

You took a brief pause from walking to look over your shoulder at him. A few paces back from him, you spotted Jason lagging behind a bit, keeping clearly intentional distance between him and you.

“I’m fine. I’m just not in the mood for pictures or any of that,” you said.

“I get it. I just couldn’t have you getting so far ahead. I don’t know if they’ll let us into this place without you,” he joked.

“They’d be doing you a favor,” you sighed before resuming your walk, albeit at a slower pace.

You kept it slow enough that Jason was forced to catch up to you or risk looking out of place. He came to follow at your other side while the three of you strolled through the open entryway.

It led into a foyer of sorts. One with sleek marble floors and a trio of ornate chandeliers dangling from the ceiling. Staircases and elevators led to other floors of the building, but you knew the luxury event hall was just further along on this level.

You didn’t speak a word while walking down a spacious hall. It didn’t take long to reach the room you were looking for. It was one of the first ones to your left.

The door was propped open, giving you a preview of your night. A warm glow doused the room. Tables took up most of the space, and there was a bar off to the side. Patrons meandered about, drinks in hand while they talked to one another. Wordless music drifted out from inside, loud enough to provide a background to conversations without overtaking them.

Without trying to give away how much you dreaded this whole thing, you stepped forward. You tugged your arm free of Dick’s hold before heading in further at the pace of someone wading shark infested waters. 

At first, you didn’t recognize around half of the guests. They could have been out-of-state invites or some of the foundation’s employees. Maybe they were just people in this city whose circles you never had the pleasure of mixing with.

But as you got deeper into the room, familiar faces started sprouting up like weeds. You saw a handful of his associates along with their spawn littered throughout the place. A couple of them waved to you. They smiled at you with the manufactured joy of people you were forced to socialize with during adolescence. You offered a fake smile back though and gave them a lazy flick of your wrist as acknowledgement. 

Dick and Jason weren’t talking at all. They offered no distractions or relief from this crowd. You ended up glancing in their directions once or twice to make sure they were still there. Of course, they were. Dick was watching the place, observing the other people here with thoughtful eyes. Jason was also focused on them, but for a visibly different reason. Disdain oozed from his very being. He didn’t hide the fact that he loathed these people like you did. A sliver of you wondered if any of that judgement rubbed off onto his perception of you. As if it wasn’t tarnished enough already.

All you wanted was to find an open table. Most of them were occupied by a couple of people or had drinks scattered on top of them, marking that someone had already claimed part of it. You wanted one that offered the largest chance at no talking.

You thought you spotted one over towards the wall opposite the bar. Just as you were about to dash for it, you noticed the group standing a few feet from it. They were a collection of a suits with dresses attached to their arms, but only one pair shot a wave of nausea into you. Your mother and father in all their glitzy, artificial glory.

Before you could escape to the bar or hide in the bathroom, he had his sights on you. He called out to you in that tone that naturally boomed across the distance. You wished you could dissolve into the floor. Or, at the very least, collapse and have to be carted away from them off to the hospital.

They were the people you most wanted to avoid speaking to unless it was completely necessary, the two individuals that were absolutely guaranteed to make your mood worse, so of course, you’d spot them right away. And of course, they’d drag you into a conversation you wanted no part of.

Your mother started gesturing you over along with him. You forced your feet to move step by step in their direction. The fake smile didn’t find its way to your lips this time.

On the bright side of things, your father had all but dismissed the other men he’d been talking to by the time you approached him. That was for the best for both of you. With the mood you were in, you weren’t confident in your ability to bullshit smalltalk with his colleagues.

You could barely stand the hug he pulled you into. Pressed against his side, you mumbled out “Hi, dad.”

He smiled down at you as he let you stand straight again. “You’re late,” he said. “I almost thought we’d missed you or something.”

“No… there was just traffic,” you replied, smoothing your dress out a bit.

“That’s why I offered to send you a driver for tonight.”

His hand came out to gently pinch at the flesh of your cheek. You couldn’t turn your head away fast enough. It was more humiliating than normal. Jason and Dick were right there. You didn’t want to sound petulant, but the entire display made you look like a spoiled child.

“A different person driving the car wouldn’t have made the traffic clear up any faster,” you said.

He chuckled before sighing, making a show of your denial for the rest of your little group. “You keep growing up, but I can always count on that attitude never changing.”

You gritted your teeth to stifle down the response you might have given if there wasn’t a crowd of strangers around. Instead, you focused your attention on your mother, offering a wave in her direction.

She reached out for you, her hands smoothing over your shoulders and down your arms in place of a verbal hello.

“You didn’t like the dress I picked for you?” she asked.

“It was fine. I just wanted to wear this one tonight.”

She just hummed and raised her brows. Calculated indifference. A weapon in her arsenal she used against you often. You fucking hated it but wished you could wield it in your own right just as much. That was one thing you hadn’t gotten from her. The ability to detach with total ease. To ice everyone out and leave them still so desperate to be let back in again.

Useful attributes like those had skipped you right over. You’d inherited her eyes and figure, her volatile emotions and apparent need to handle everything in the most dramatic fashion possible. The small part of you that always felt spited, neglected, looked over — you were convinced it came from her as well, either in the form of genetics or learned behavior.

She was everything you loathed about yourself in the form of someone else. She was the future you didn’t want, a walking ghost of a past you got to live in right now.

You stared at this older, sadder version of yourself for a few more seconds before she did you the favor of looking towards the men behind you.

“Who are your friends, sweetheart?”

“They’re not friends. They’re the bodyguards dad hired,” you said flatly. You weren’t in the mood and she wasn’t worth a more accurate label. You glanced back at them one at a time. “This is Dick, and that’s Jason.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jason said, formal as ever. He stuck out his hand and shook hers.

Then Dick swooped in with his own hand, a smile already on his face. “It really is,” he said.

You couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes. The prince charming thing was cute when he was doing it to you. Not your mother.

She looked him up and down, a faint smile on her lips. “You’ll have to forgive my mistake. Neither my husband nor my daughter keep me in the loop with these kinds of things,” she said.

You could feel your blood pressure rising by the second.

“Because they’re just precautionary. They don’t actually do anything,” you said.

Your father cut you off. “Don’t be disrespectful. They do what I ask of them. They keep you safe. They keep you out of trouble.”

They keep you controlled. That was the final statement that went unspoken. Not that you minded. It wasn’t close to being true. You could only imagine the conniption fit he’d have if he caught wind of the fact that he’d basically been paying them to rearrange your insides on the daily for the past several weeks.

His attention landed specifically on Jason next. “I don’t think we’ve met face-to-face before. It’s nice to meet you.” He stuck out his hand for a shake.

And Jason reciprocated without falter. “Likewise, sir,” he said.

Sir. You actually laughed. Jason could call you whatever he wanted but at least you had enough of a spine to not feign respect for people you could barely stand.

“Don’t feel too bad about it. He’s gonna be leaving soon anyways,” you said, trying to mask the bitterness lacing your tone.

That got everyone’s eyes on you. Your mother and father looked skeptical while Jason was almost glaring. Dick seemed concerned, but you were too irritated to care at this point.

“Is that so?” your father said, his eyes shifting from your direction back to Jason. “That’s a shame, but it wouldn’t be the first time she’s run someone off.”

“Dad-”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” Jason said before you had the chance to snap. “She’s been a peach. There’s just another case that requires my attention.”

You wondered why he was even bothering with a lie. “Yeah. I didn’t run him off. He’s choosing to walk away,” you subtly shot at Jason.

Completely ignoring your comment, your father continued. “Well you’d be welcome back any time. Around my building or at some of our events. Even if she ever needed anyone again. I mean really, you’ve done such a good job with her. She’s mellowed out over the years, but by now, I usually would have gotten some kind of complaint.”

The words chipped at you bit by bit. Maybe if you didn’t resent him so much it wouldn’t have mattered. His remarks would feel like the playful ribbing he wanted them to sound like. They wouldn’t serve as bitter reminders of the image he painted of you, of how he took all of your bad decisions and shitty ways of handling things and made them who you were.

After taking a sip from her champagne glass, your mom looked at Jason too. “You two must have the patience of saints. The next time I go out of the country, I’ll have to get your number from my husband.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. “Oh please, mother. He barely tolerated me. I doubt he’ll want to be around either of the people who made me this way.”

And suddenly, it was awkward. Suddenly, they were all looking at you again, but this time with something close to pity. You couldn’t fucking take it. They could talk about you like you weren’t there, even shake hands over it for god’s sake, but you saying something in the same vein was too far apparently.

With a roll of your eyes, you mumbled, “I’m thirsty. I’m gonna go get a drink,” and then wasted no time before turning on your heel and walking off.

The heat of humiliation sweltered around your head like a monsoon cloud. It was a distant feeling, but familiar all the same. You didn’t understand it — why they stabbed at your insecurities so openly, why you reacted the same way after all these years.

You’d nearly reached the bar when a hand clasped around your bicep, stopping you in your tracks. Your head whipped around, ready to annihilate whoever was interfering with your escape plan.

“Hey, it’s just me,” Dick said softly. “You took off so fast. I just wanted to check on you, make sure you’re alright.”

He stood there with his worried expression and eyes full of the desire to help. Any other day you might have collapsed into his arms right then and there, desperate for him to make it better. But tonight your inflamed sense of rejection had control of the wheel.

“I’m fine,” you said.

“You don’t look it.”

“Well I am.”

He hesitated for a moment but persisted. Even with the groups of people scattered all around you, talking and moving about, he was determined to not let you slip away.

“You can tell me. We can talk about ‘real stuff,’ remember? I’m not trying to-” he started.

“There’s nothing to tell. I just can’t take them with their fake bullshit, and I can’t fucking take Jason going right along with it. That’s it.”

“That’s not nothing,” he said. “And I don’t blame you. I’m not gonna-”

“Look, I don’t need your help, Dick,” you said, quiet enough not to draw further attention. “I don’t need you to try and tell me it’s ok or that I didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t need you to look at me like I’m some kind of broken Barbie doll for you to fix. This-” you gestured wildly at yourself, “-is just who I am, ok? I don’t need you making me feel like I’m any better.”

He didn’t try reaching for you again. You couldn’t blame him in the slightest, yet part of you still felt disappointed as his expression lost its persistence. Without physically moving at all, he retreated, pulled away from you and rescinded the lifesaver he’d thrown your way.

Your eyes stung as you turned around and stalked the rest of the way to the bar. This whole thing was spiraling so far out of proportion, and you just couldn’t get a handle on it. You quietly ordered yourself a drink, something strong enough to take the edge off. Something that could loosen you up and make you less likely to lose it on the next person who spoke to you.

Jason stood against the wall, watching as Dick came skulking back like a dog with his tail between his legs. He’d managed to drift away from your parents pretty easily after you stomped off. The area he was in now was relatively uncrowded. A couple of tables kept it blocked off enough that no one accidentally wandered over.

Dick came to lean next to him, his eyes still out on the main part of the room, intentionally avoiding your silhouette at the bar.

“She didn’t wanna talk,” he said flatly.

“Of course she didn’t,” Jason shrugged.

Dick sighed. He glanced at Jason for a moment, taking in his nonchalance towards your little episode.

“I know she gets on your nerves, but I think she’s really upset. I don’t think this is for attention or to cause a scene,” he said.

But Jason didn’t relent at all. “I’m sure she is. But she’s a big girl. If she wants help, she can ask for it. She can do more than stomp off like a teenager who got grounded.”

The conversation could have died there. In a way, Jason was right, and Dick knew it. You could communicate better. You could actually handle things like you claimed you had the ability to instead of sulking and avoiding. But he also knew it was a double-edged sword. Jason wasn’t the best at communication either. Trying to get the two of you to work together was like expecting brick walls to close the gap in an alleyway.

After a few minutes of silence, Dick tried again.

“Even if I don’t find you a case by tomorrow, I think you should leave, man,” he said quietly.

Jason turned his head, looking him in the eyes. “You’re kicking me out?” he asked, almost mocking.

Without a trace of humor, Dick nodded. “If that’s how you wanna take it, then yeah, I guess I am. Hanging around isn’t good for either of you. It drives you crazy, and it makes her sad. And I don’t want to be the one dealing with it all the time either, so I think if you’re done with her, you should just go.”

Despite the chatter of conversation and the hum of music all around them, the room felt silent for a moment. A shadow seemed to cast over Jason. His arms crossed over his chest and his gaze went back to the other part of the room. Some part of what Dick said had bothered him.

“I’ll try talking to her,” he finally said. “But if she throws a fit, then I’ll be done.”

For the first time in a while, Jason’s choice surprised Dick. He nodded, wanting to offer encouragement but fearing if he gave too much support, Jason would change his mind.

He took a breath before pushing off the wall and heading in that general direction. Dick watched from the same spot, silently hoping this wouldn’t end in a screaming match or security having to separate the two of you. You had seemed pretty upset when he went after you, but he wasn’t the one who’d done the damage. His comfort couldn’t heal your wound as easily.

His hopes didn’t go anywhere though because about halfway to the bar, Jason turned back to him with a perplexed look. He said something, but Dick couldn’t hear. He followed in that direction, allowing his ears to pick up the message the second time.

“She’s not over there.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, instantly looking for himself.

Sure enough, you were nowhere to be found. Dick brushed past Jason to get closer, his mind snapping into work-mode without missing a beat. He scanned the whole area, the surrounding crowd and the spots behind taller patrons. Still nothing.

“Fuck,” Dick said and rubbed his face.

“She’s probably still here,” Jason said. “It hasn’t been that long. She couldn’t have gotten too far away.”

Dick nodded. This wasn’t a matter of life or death. It wasn’t like other cases where losing sight of a client could mean the next time they saw you you’d be on the floor in a pool of blood or photographed in the paper after being found in a river. Rather, this was a question of whether or not next week they’d still be employed. Whether or not their firm would be able to find work in this city for much longer. Your parents had been singing their praises only minutes ago, but he could only imagine how fast that would change if you got into some sort of trouble. 

He could see it going wrong in so many ways. Different scenarios flashed through his mind like warnings. He could just imagine you wreaking drunken havoc out in the lobby. He could picture you picking up his car from the valet, taking it on a joy ride around town till you crashed into something.

His eyes swept the room one more time. He checked to be sure you weren’t moping around the edges or slumped over at a table anywhere. Once he was sure you’d left this room at the very least, he waved towards the door.

“Let’s check out there before we start thinking of any other place,” he said.

Jason went along without protest.

The two of them left the banquet hall and headed back down the hallway they’d come. They eyed each group meandering throughout, but you still weren’t there.

They reached the lobby. Luckily, you weren’t at the front desk having a meltdown. You weren’t around any of the other guests entering the main doors. You weren’t collapsed on the stairs. Dick was about ready to accept that you’d left when Jason broke him from his thoughts.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Dick’s head snapped in Jason’s direction before following his eyeline to a large pillar near the set of  elevators. Finally, you were in view. Your back was pressed to the marble, some guy leaning into your bubble. His laminated ID dangled between your bodies. Your fingers toyed with the hem of his tie.

Jason sounded and looked actually pissed. Dick knew he probably shouldn’t be the one to handle it if they didn’t want to cause a scene. But before he could suggest anything else, Jason was talking.

“Go get the car. I’ll be out there with her in a couple of minutes.”

“Jason, don’t-”

“Don’t worry, dad. I’m just gonna talk to her. Like you said,” he said. Though his expression gave the impression that a civil conversation was the last thing on his mind.

But he was already stalking over to the two of you, so Dick figured having the escape route ready was the best case scenario at this point.

As you twirled this guy’s crimson tie around your index finger, you also came to the realization that you had no idea what you were doing.

He’d been next to you at the bar when you threw back the shot you’d ordered. It took a second, but you recognized him after a moment of staring. You hadn’t seen him in years, not since your second semester of college. He hadn’t changed much since then. A different haircut, a nicer outfit, but he was still the same guy who’d come over at any time of night if you sent him a text about needing to have some fun.

And you needed some fun right now. You needed a distraction, and the way he was looking you up and down in return told you he was willing to to be one for the next couple of hours.

It didn’t take much to coax him away with you. A gentle touch of your hand upon his forearm, a lip bite, and a couple of innuendo-ridden statements about catching up and taking a trip down memory lane, and he was following you out like a dog on a leash. 

Men at these things were easy, and he was no exception. They wanted everyone to think they were so smart, so respectable, but they treated it as barely a step above a bar. At the end of the day, it was a place to find a hookup for the night before they headed back to the capitol or another event in the morning.

He was staying a couple blocks away at a more budget-friendly hotel. According to his ID and the facts he’d eagerly shared about himself, he was chief of staff for a representative also in attendance at the fundraiser.

You stood against the wall now, looking up at him. He’d called an uber, and now it was just a waiting game. Enough time for you to either double down or regret your mistake before you’d even made it.

Neither came to pass. Jason appeared beside you and your suitor faster than you could get away.

“There you are. I thought I’d lost you,” he said. His voice sounded lighthearted, but upon looking in his eyes, you knew that wasn’t the case.

“If only,” you shot back with a false smile.

“You know, if you wanted some attention, you’d only have to ask Dick,” he mocked. “There’s no need for the disappearing act.”

You stared at him with pure hatred — something much stronger than your normal annoyed side eye — as if you could will him away with the intensity of your anger alone. The guy who’d been so interested in you only seconds ago stood up straight.

“Who is this?” he asked, glancing between you and Jason.

“He’s no one,” you answered.

He looked at you with suspicion. That answer wasn’t gonna satisfy him. Not when the no one in question was someone like Jason. Someone who stood at least six inches taller and weighed a minimum fifty pounds heavier.

A few seconds passed before he fully turned to Jason. “Look, man, if you’re her boyfriend, she didn’t tell me anything about that. I’m sorry-”

“He’s not my boyfriend. He works for my dad-” you tried to cut in.

“I’m her bodyguard. But I do have some advice, kid,” he said, eyes flitting down to the badge hanging from his neck. “Consider this a favor. If you want any kind of job in Washington, banging a senator’s daughter when she’s got a few drinks in her probably isn’t the best way to go.”

“I didn’t-” you started but he already had a response.

“Maybe I should leave you two to work things out…” he said, clearly not wanting to deal with all of your drama.

“No! You don’t have to-” you tried.

But Jason smiled at him and ended the conversation with two words. “Great idea.”

Your old “friend” slipped back several feet, tapping the screen on his phone, if you had to guess, to cancel the ride. You rolled your eyes. He couldn’t even give you a wave goodbye before fading into the background with some other group of people.

Your attention snapped back to Jason, a glare already settled in your eyes. “I’m not drunk. I didn’t have that much to drink.”

“Then why are you acting like this?” he said, somewhere between taunting and serious.

“Oh fuck off! What? Are you jealous? You already told me you didn’t want anything to do with me!” you said, loud enough that a few people nearby looked your way. You went to swat at his chest, but he caught your wrist with ease.

He stepped closer, almost assuming the position that the other guy had vacated. “That’s not what I said,” he said, voice lowered. “And despite what you may think, I care about you. I don’t want you doing something you’ll regret or getting hurt just because you’re upset with me.”

“Give me a fucking break,” you scoffed. “You have no right. It’s not your job to stop me from making decisions you don’t approve of.”

“This isn’t about what I approve of. I’m getting paid to keep you out of trouble, so that’s what I’m doing.”

“Hm. It wasn’t considered trouble when you were the one getting to fuck me,” you said.

That touched a nerve. The air went cold around the two of you. Nearby crowds faded further into the backdrop. You stared at each other as if it was a contest with survival on the line.

Your wrist was still in his grasp, his strong fingers wrapped around your limb tight. You couldn’t just walk away even if you wanted to. But honestly, you didn’t want to. This hurt in the best kind of way. This was what you were used to, lashing out, tearing into another person and then letting them rip you to shreds right back.

Tension stirred between you both hot enough to create an electrical charge. You swallowed hard, waiting to see what he would do next. It was his move in this little game. His eyes stayed on you, pensive as he contemplated how to proceed.

“Look. I understand that you’re pissed at me, but you’re embarrassing yourself. You didn’t want to sleep with that guy. You wanted to make us feel bad or make yourself feel bad or I don’t even know. But it’s enough. You’re acting like a kid who got her favorite toy taken away,” he said quietly.

You could tell he was trying his best to stay cool, but his words had the opposite effect on you. He had hit the bullseye with that one. That ache in your chest grew more intense, strong enough to push a fresh wave of tears up into your eyes. 

“How dare you. You think you’re the toy? That’s rich,” you spat bitterly.

His brows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he said.

You tugged your wrist away hard to get free, but you didn’t go anywhere. You stepped forward, closing the minuscule amount of distance left between the two of you.

“You used me, Jason. You played with me until you got bored,” you choked out. “You didn’t have a problem being around me when I let you fuck me whenever you felt like it, but the second I wanted a little more, you just threw me away.”

“That’s not true,” he said, not even taking a moment to consider. It was an immediate defense.

“It’s not? Really? You know it is,” you seethed. “You try to act like you’re so much better than me, like I’m so pathetic, but you’re just as bad. You’re pathetic. You protect people for a living, but really, you watch out for yourself. You take what you want from people, and then leave when it gets hard for you.”

“Really?” he hissed. As if the two of you were magnetized, he seemed to be drifting further into your personal space with every moment that passed. The only thing keeping him quiet was the potential of causing a public scene. “That’s what you think? That I take? That I don’t care?” he asked.

“I know you don’t,” you said, simple and petulant but with enough force to wound.

Quicker than you could blink, the hand that was on your wrist pulled hard and began dragging you to the hotel’s front exit. You stumbled along behind Jason. For the sake of your dignity, you put on a show of resisting a little. 

He didn’t even seem to register it. The two of you continued through the lobby without incident. Attendants stood near the doors, saying goodbye and helping guests with luggage. Their customer-service smiles faltered as Jason blew by with you in tow. The look on his face was enough to ward off any goodnights from anyone.

You nearly tripped as he brought you onto the stone steps out front. The front of your heel snagged on a door stopper, but his strong grip was enough to keep you upright.

“Jason!” you scolded. “Slow down! I wanna avoid face planting and breaking my nose if possible.”

“Keep up then. You didn’t have any problem being fast when you were trying to run off with that little prick,” he said.

Thunder clapped in the sky above. It had started pouring rain some time between when you first entered the venue and now. You were still under part of the entry structure, so the water wasn’t hitting you yet. It was getting closer with each one of Jason’s forceful strides. You could see it smacking against the ground several yards away.

“Where are we even going?” you asked.

“Where do you think? To the car. Dick should have it back from valet by now,” he said. “You’re going home, and then you’re going to your room.”

You knew he said it on purpose. He phrased it like that to rile you up, to poke at you. But it worked nonetheless.

“Don’t talk to me like that!” you snapped and smacked his bicep with the back of your free hand as hard as you could.

Your hardest was nothing to him though. He whipped around faster than any human should be able to and grabbed your jaw.

“Do it again, and I swear I’ll fucking put you over my shoulder. I’ll carry you to the car kicking and screaming in front of all your daddy’s friends,” he said.

A chill shot through your body. For once, you didn’t have anything to say. Seeing him like that, jaw flexing, eyes blazing… you didn’t doubt that he would pick you up and cart you off like a bratty little kid if you didn’t listen.

He released your face and turned around, continuing in the direction of the street. The covering above ended in a few paces. Droplets of rain began pelting down on your skin, getting your dress and hair wet.

“This isn’t changing my mind, you know!” you called out to him from behind. Your desire to have the last word won out over self-preservation every time. “Dragging me through the rain, being all mean just cause you can’t handle the truth!”

He didn’t even stop walking to placate you. “Not a single word of what you said was the truth,” he said.

“Just because you don’t like it doesn’t make it not true!”you say. “This is exactly what I was saying! You can’t just have a conversation! You have to feel in control!”

“Shut the fuck up,” he said. His fingers were digging into your arm hard enough to bruise, but he still kept walking. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The curb was coming up fast. You knew he was reaching the boiling point, but you didn’t care. You wanted to keep prodding and picking him apart until he crumbled.

“Of course I don’t. Because nobody can understand the great tragedy that is Jason Todd. We’re all too clueless and naive to know what you’ve been through,” you spat. 

The both of you brushed past the valet drivers like you had the employees inside. Jason briefly glanced at either side of the street to ensure the two of you wouldn’t be mowed down in the middle of this pleasant discussion.

He wasn’t giving you the reaction you wanted though.

“The reality is that you don’t want help, Jason! You act like you’re so irredeemable, like it’s not a choice, but it is! You keep running away and locking everyone out because you’d actually have to improve if you let them in! You’re gonna be alone forever, and it will be all your fault!” you said just as the two of you reached where Dick was waiting in the car across the street.

It was then, beside the sleek metallic black exterior, that he finally, truly cracked. He spun around, one hand clamping over your mouth and one pressing your shoulder to the car. You stared up at him with wide-eyes, taking in what you’d reduced him too.

“Be quiet,” he said. “Just stop fucking talking.”

The pressure on your face wasn’t that hard. Without much effort, you slipped one of your own hands up and pried his off. You opened your mouth to speak again, but he cut you off.

“You think I like pushing you away? That I like not knowing how to let you in?” he asked. His voice sounded strained, almost broken. “Do you think it’s fun for me to watch you get hurt and then tell me what a piece of shit I am? Do you think I want to leave you because I don’t know how to fix anything?! Don’t you think I wish I could be more like Dick? That you came to me as easily as you did him?”

Your heart pounded so hard in your chest that the sound rivaled the storm clouds. Streams of water dribbled down over his face like longer forms of tears. His damp hair stuck to his forehead. He looked like a mess.

“How am I supposed to know any of that if you don’t tell me?!” you asked, your voice cracking in shame a little. “I wasn’t trying to fix you or change you or whatever. I just wanted to be more than a client you tell stories about in the future.”

The argument stalled between you and him. He was breathing heavily, only a little harder than yourself. The pressure on your shoulder eased as his hand slid to the side and flatted against the car window. His other fingers went beneath your chin, tilting your head up. Your noses were less than an inch away.

“I swear…” he mumbled. “You’re such a brat. Think you know everything, but you’re fucking blind if you really believe you mean so little to me.”

There were no words in any language that could convey the emotion that flooded your body. He took your breath away while filling you with the most vigor you’d ever experienced. The dwindling anger in you vanished entirely. You could only think to do one thing.

Your hands wrapped around his neck and pulled him, closing the tiny gap between your lips. He didn’t pull away. His hands fell to your waist, keeping your body as close as physically possible to his.

In the back of your mind, you knew this wasn’t the smartest move. You’d already put on quite the show on the way here. The last thing you needed would be someone spotting you across the street and bringing the news to your father that you were making out with some stranger against another one’s car.

But none of that really mattered right now. It couldn’t. Not when you had Jason’s tongue entering your mouth. Not when you were stumbling around to the passenger door. Not when he was groaning against your lips in a way you hadn’t felt in what seemed like eternity.

He popped the door open before falling inside and tugging you on top of him. You slammed it shut behind the two of you, barely making sure your dress was all the way inside before diving in for more kisses.

“Woah, what did I miss?” Dick said from the driver’s seat.

“Shut up and drive the car,” Jason mumbled against your lips.

“I leave you two alone for five minutes, and I swear…” he said. You could hear that smug smile in every word.

The headlights beamed onto the slick road in front of the car. Rain continued knocking against the roof as he put into drive and took off. Dick had the radio on low in the background. The sound of your kisses combined with your and Jason’s breathing muffled it substantially.

You cupped Jason’s jaw, keeping his face level with yours. Your tongue flicked across his lips before delving into the warm cavern of his mouth. A small sigh fanned over your face, warm air that felt cool from the beads of water all over your skin.

He was just as eager as you. His hands stayed on your hips, gripping through the shimmery fabric of your dress. The skirt of it was already riding up from your position, and you were certain he’d have up around your waist in no time.

You ground yourself down on him, rolling your hips a few times in fluid motions. A quiet groan crept up his throat.

“You feeling a little desperate, baby?” he murmured. “Been a whole week since I had you.”

“Mhm,” you whimpered, pressing yourself down on him again.

He gave your ass a quick slap, a bit of encouragement before his fingers dug into the plush flesh. You moaned and dropped your head to his neck. Your lips found refuge in the skin there. You kissed up and down his throat with the same fervor you had for his lips. Little beads of water slid onto your mouth, rolling down from the strands of his hair.

Your teeth scraped over the pulsing artery in his neck. The sting of him wanting reassignment was still scorching inside you, so you wanted to leave some marks on him. Tiny purple flecks he could take with him on his new job.

“You were throwing such a fit… all cause you missed me,” he murmured right beside your ear.

“Cause you were being mean to me,” you corrected.

“Mmmm… that’s right. I guess I was,” he said.

He shifted underneath you, leaning further back into his seat. You chased after him with your wanting mouth. Your hands fell between your body towards his pants. You were more than ready to get to some real making up, but he stopped you short. His fingers clasped around your wrist and tugged it away.

“But it was only cause you were giving me such a hard time.”

He smirked as you whined in disappointment. You tried reaching down again, but like you’d learned many times before, your will was no match for his strength. He flipped you around on his lap with ease so that your back was flush against his chest.

Now his fingers tucked beneath the hem of your dress and yanked it upwards. He bunched the fabric just above your panties, leaving the lacy white exposed.

“You wouldn’t let me apologize, wouldn’t let me leave in peace, said some real nasty stuff to me, tried running off with some other guy,” he whispered, his breath hot on your neck.

“You deserved it,” you huffed as you wriggled in his hold.

Was using the painful events of the past week as foreplay the best way to cope with the ache they left behind? Probably not. But really, all you took away from that was that he sounded a little bit jealous, which had you preening more than anything else.

Jason’s hand slithered down your body to the space between your thighs. His fingers found your clothed cunt with practiced ease, almost muscle memory. He rubbed the thick pads of them over your clit, swirling over the little bud in rough loops.

A moan erupted out of you into the car. Your head flew back against Jason’s shoulder. It wasn’t like you’d been totally celibate since you and Jason fought, but his and Dick’s touches were different from each other. Not better or worse, just different. And you’d been missing Jason’s half of that whole.

In the midst of your ecstasy, Dick reached up towards the rearview mirror and angled it down to get a look at the action.

“Hey,” you whimpered with a little pout.

“What?” he laughed. “You were giving me a hard time too, sweetheart. I deserve a little compensation.”

“That’s right. Let Dick watch. If he’s not taking your side, you know you were pretty bad,” Jason said. 

His freehand came up to paw at your breast. It slid under the top of your dress, getting his palm on your bare skin. Your flesh was smooth as silk, malleable and pliant under his command. He squeezed it nice and tight how you like before his fingers began toying with your nipple.

The car came to a stop at a red light. You kept moving, writhing and squirming on his lap. Your heels came off at some point. They dropped to the floor with one another. Dick watched with his full attention now. His eyes raked over your face and your gyrating torso, your swiveling hips and finally Jason’s digits delving under your panties to get at your pussy.

He didn’t waste time. The tip of his fingers poked at your entrance before the rest of them slid inside. He pumped them in and out. You were wet enough to make it easy, and your arousal only spread with every thrust of his wrist.

You mewled, arching your back off his chest. Your eyes rolled back so hard you thought you saw the headrest behind you.

“You're lucky these windows are tinted, princess. Otherwise you’d be giving the car next to us a real show,” Jason teased.

Your walls spasmed around his fingers. You turned your head to the side, lazily glancing out the window with half-lidded eyes. The vehicle to your right had a man and a woman around your parents' age. They sat with their eyes on the signal ahead, waiting for it to flip over from red to green. Both of them remained completely oblivious to the scene stopped beside them.

“Would you like that, baby? Everyone seeing how bad you want me, how desperate you get without me taking care of you for a little while?” he breathed. “How pretty you look when you’re all worked up?”

To go along with his words, his hand left your chest and crept towards the button to open the window. It took your brain a couple of seconds to register what the movement actually meant.

“Jason!” you whined, bucking your hips and grabbing his hand away.

Both him and Dick laughed. His arm snuck around you, pulling you close as could be.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he said. “No one else gets to see that. Just me and Dick.”

“Just you and Dick,” you repeated with a faint nod.

Your body melted against his radiating warmth. You relaxed again, letting the pleasure overtake you once again. He was rubbing you just right. The heel of his palm ground on your sensitive clit while his two fingers continued to curl inside of you.

You were fast approaching the edge. Your breaths came quicker, your limbs got more fidgety. But just as you began to crest that high, the light beaming into the car swapped to green. With the red went your pleasure, fizzling out as his fingers pulled away.

“Jason!” you said again in that same whiny tone. You tried to smack his arm, but he was quick enough to block.

“What?” he teased, pecking at your neck and cheek.

In the haze of a lost orgasm, you struggled to get the words out. You looked to Dick for help, but his eyes were back on the road. He tutted, sensing your indignant look.

“Ah-ah. You didn’t want my help, remember?” he said.

“I’m sorry,” you whined. Your bottom lip started to puff out into your signature look. “Can’t you guys gimme a break this one time. I was upset too, y’know…”

Jason let out a breathy laugh behind your ear. “Yeah, you were,” he said softly between a few more kisses.

His hand made its way back down to your center and stayed there for the remainder of the drive. He kept you on the edge, bringing you close enough just to teeter but not actually finish. It drove you crazy in the best way.

You didn’t even notice your surroundings as Dick turned off of the main road and pulled into the parking lot for your building. It only dawned on you that you were back home when he shut the car off and the engine went quiet. 

Jason pulled his hand from your panties again, this time for good. Your head floated off his shoulder and glanced around. By now, your legs felt as wobbly as a baby deer and your head was spinning without the constant rush that had been coursing through you for the last twenty minutes.

Even though you hadn’t cum, the same sort of needy longing welled up inside you while looking between the two of them. Jason was just grinning at your little stupor while Dick had a bit more fondness written on his face.

You couldn’t help it. Before you knew what was happening, you were crawling over the center console into Dick’s lap. Your arm wrapped around his neck and your lips peppered kisses all across his face.

“I’m sorry I was giving you a hard time,” you mumbled. Jason being mad at you was one thing — almost a natural stage in the cycle of your relationship at this point — but Dick having any sort of negative feeling towards you? Dick who was so sweet and caring and everything you needed whenever you needed it? That could not stand.

He chuckled, his lips curving into a smile under all your affection. “That’s alright,” he said softly. “You were just having a shitty day. It happens.”

“Not to you,” you said, only half-joking.

“To me too.” He smiled. 

On the opposite side of the car, the passenger door popped open and Jason got out, the straps of your heels hooked around his index finger. He ducked back in, giving you two a look that suggested he wanted to move things along.

“You got her?” he asked.

Dick nodded in return.

The door slammed shut, and his hands rubbed up and down your back. “You wanna walk or…”

“Or.” You nodded.

Returning one of your small kisses, he opened the driver door. He shifted you off his lap before stepping out. You watched him move, admired how the nearby lamppost cast a glow over his fluffy hair and striking features, ogled how his arms flexed as he fixed the skirt of your dress.

After he deemed your appearance suitable if anyone happened to spot you on the way in, he lifted you from the seat and nudged the door shut. He held you like a princess while walking to the sleek entrance of your building, and with the stars sparkling overhead, he looked the part of prince charming.

You let your head fall back over his arm as the three of you headed in towards the elevator. The doorman nodded at Dick and Jason as they passed with you. You doubted anything they saw would get back to your father, but just in case, you’d rather have them report that you’d had one too many at the event than the fact that you were making out, ready to fuck both of your bodyguards as soon as the elevator struck floor 70.

Once those doors shut to give you three the privacy of the cabin, you were squirming out of Dick’s arms onto your feet. You reached up towards Jason, pulling him down to your mouth in a hasty exchange. Your other arm reached back for Dick though, still wanting him close.

He was happy to oblige. His lips found your neck and planted soft pecks all over the area that spanned from your ear to the strap of your dress. 

You hadn’t had both of them on you in what felt like an eternity, and now it was like reentering heaven. Hands gripped your hips, felt up your ass, rubbed across your stomach. You couldn’t keep track of what limb belonged to who, but that was fine.

As soon as that delicate chime resounded through the small square space, the three of you stumbled into the penthouse. You didn’t have a specific destination in mind. In all honesty, you would have been content to do it right there on the entry floor.

But they guided you down the hall and into the living room. Your palms found the back of the couch. You used the smooth surface for balance while they continued their dual efforts. Jason still had command of your mouth while Dick had moved his attention elsewhere. His nimble fingers took hold of the zipper on the back of your dress, working it down with ease.

That shimmery silver fabric parted to reveal your spine. He hooked his digits around one strap and then the other, slipping them off in tandem and leaving you there in your pristine white lingerie.

“You knew we were gonna be making up, wearing something this pretty,” Jason mumbled as he lightly snapped the hem of your panties against your skin.

“Nuh uh. I’m always this pretty. You should be used to it by now,” you said with a little smile.

“Yeah, yeah.” He grabbed a handful of your ass cheek before giving it a firm smack.

Dick’s hand laced with one of yours and began pulling you around the end of the sectional so that you all were on the side of the seats. You plopped down, leaning back and showing off a little for them.

The view didn’t go unappreciated. Their eyes traced over about every inch of your frame while undoing their ties and shrugging off their suit jackets. You took the time to pull off your panties and kick them aside.

Jason finished undressing first and sat down beside you. His hands grabbed your waist and tugged you on top of him. Your thighs spread across the width of his meaty legs.

“You want me first tonight?” he asked, reaching down between the both of you to stroke his cock. He swiped his thumb over the tip. A bead of precum followed, a pearly drop he smeared on your soaked folds.

You bit your lip, hesitating for a moment before answering. “I want both of you first…” you say tentatively.

His brows raised, but you could see in his eyes he was far from opposed to your suggestion.

“You want both? At the same time.”

You nodded.

“You think you’re ready for that?” he asked, almost teasing. “That’s a lot, especially for someone like you. You get overwhelmed so easily.”

Your face heated up, especially cause he had a stupid smirk on his. With a little scoff, you nodded again.

“I want it. I want all of you while I have you. Don’t wanna waste any time waiting for anything.”

Your fingers caressed over the muscular swell of his biceps, a distraction from the sentiment hidden within your words. Jason sensed it too. You knew without even looking. His hold got slightly softer, he stopped rubbing the head of his cock over your slit for a moment. But instead of dwelling on it, he looked beyond your shoulder.

“You hear that, Dick? You think she’s ready for two at the same time?”

You felt the feather-light touch of Dick’s fingers on your shoulders before he even responded. They massaged your muscles, swirling around as he leaned down to kiss the skin next to your ear.

“If that’s what she wants,” he said. “You know I have a hard time giving her anything but.”

It was hard not to squirm under all the attention, but you managed to stay composed. You planted your palms on Jason’s chest and gave him a subtle set of puppy eyes, just for good measure in case he wasn’t sold on the idea yet.

But his velvety tip slotted at your entrance again. He pushed up a little, just to tease the idea of popping inside.

“You gotta hold still, alright? No moving around or trying to help out,” he said.

You nodded again just as he slid a couple inches of his length inside. Your lips rounded out as the familiar stretch hit you. You wanted so badly to sink down, to take more until you were settled on his lap, but he just told you not to move.

Luckily, he acted for you. His hands clasped around your hips and brought you down until he was fully sheathed inside of you. He kept you there for a moment before rocking you up and down a couple of times.

Your head fell back, only for the sight of Dick smiling down at you to fill your vision. He pet one side of your head, his fingers curling to cup your face while his other set ventured South. Jason had you still now. His hips did all the moving so Dick would have the opportunity to open you up.

His thumb was the first thing you felt. He rubbed it on your puckered entrance. You couldn’t help it, how your eyes widened a little. Both at the same time. It was really gonna happen.

“Tell me to stop if you feel anything you don’t like,” Dick said softly, planting a kiss on your forehead and then dropping into a crouch to focus his attention down there.

His thumb left you, but just for his tongue to replace it. You squealed at the wet sensation, your hips jerking involuntarily.

Jason’s hands tightened around you. “Fuck, she’s liking it so far,” he hissed as your walls fluttered around his cock.

Dick chuckled from behind you and then really went for it. You leaned forward onto Jason’s chest, giving him ample space to work.

He stayed down there for a little while. You couldn’t be sure how long — time was never easy to gauge in situations like this. He worked with a mix of his fingers and tongue. At first it felt weird. You’d never say it hurt, but it just felt odd. But as time passed and he stretched you further, you found yourself opening up to the possibility of this working.

Jason continued pumping in and out of you all the while. He kept his pace slow, not wanting to finish too early. His shallow thrusts gave you short bursts of pleasure. Enough to keep you somewhere in the middle of satisfaction and wanting.

You were hanging onto the edge when you finally felt a thicker nudge against your back entrance. Dick’s smooth hand rubbed over the length of your spine.

“Just relax for me, baby,” he said.

He slid himself up and down your crack a few times before finally inching in. Your nails dug into Jason’s chest and your toes curled. You squished your cheek against his skin. It wasn’t bad enough for you to tap out, but it was definitely more intense than a few fingers.

“You got it, sweetheart,” he murmured against your hair. His thrusts even came to a halt, letting you focus entirely on adjusting.

“You’re doing so good,” Dick praised. His voice sounded so strained. You wondered how different it felt for him.

He pushed forward until you let out a little pained squeak. Then he paused. He stayed there and drew back before working in again. Once he finally got most of himself in, he stopped for real. Both of them kept completely still, just allowing you to take in being full of both of them.

“How’re you doing? Is it feeling good yet?” Jason asked softly.

You nodded faintly against him, keeping your head pressed to his body. The beat of his heart under your head helped ground you.

“You feel so fucking good,” Dick sighed.

“You can start moving if you wanna…” you said.

“You sure?” they both said, a rare moment where they sounded totally in sync.

“Yeah,” you reaffirmed.

“You got it then. Always getting what you want,” Jason teased gently as he began working his hips once more.

Dick started a few seconds after him. He went a little slower, letting you get used to the movement. You mewled at the stretch, but it wasn’t painful like before. Along with Jason’s cock distracting you, it didn’t feel bad. You kind of started to like it.

Both of them kept firm grips on the flesh of your hips in different places. Dick’s thumbs pet stripes down the curve of your ass as his hips.

“So, so good for us,” he murmured with a squeeze. “So perfect.”

And praise came from Jason too, more freely than you’d ever heard it flow from his lips.

“Our pretty baby,” he cooed. “This is all you needed. To know we want you. To feel how much we need you.”

You nodded with a shuddery gasp, your head bobbing up and down lazily. Their rhythms were practically inverses of each other. When one went in, the other slid out. You were completely full for fleeting moments but never totally empty.

After a little while, it was more than you could take. You melted onto Jason’s chest, half-heartedly grabbing at him in a bid for some sort of stability. He held you closer with one arm across your shoulder blades and used his other hand for more leverage on your hips to pump his cock deeper inside you.

Every brush of his tip against your sweet spot drew you closer to release. Your eyes fluttered and warmth flooded every inch of your body.

“I’m right there with you, princess. Come on. Let go for me,” he said.

The rumble of his voice coaxing you to the edge worked almost as well as his physical touch. Your muscles tensed up before you felt that euphoric burst inside. A loud moan poured out of you onto his chest. You rolled your hips on him, unable to stop yourself from ignoring his previous directions.

It didn’t matter though. Dick pulled himself out of you a second later. You heard a couple soft grunts and then felt the warm splash of his cum on your back.

Jason came inside you. He buried himself all the way to the hilt before letting go with a loud groan. His neck flexed while the muscles in his arms twitched. You would have really admired the sight if you weren’t so fucked out yourself.

The three of you all came down at a similar rate. Dick slumped down to sit near the both of you on the couch. He ran a hand through his hair as he caught his breath. You slowly rolled off of Jason and sprawled out across a few cushions.

Silence filled the room around you, but for the first time all week, it wasn’t awkward. You were totally content not speaking right now. There wasn’t some void waiting to be filled. Rather, you were content with only their presence.

Jason was the first to get up. He slowly rose from the comfort of the couch. You watched lazily as he headed in the direction of the stairs. For a second, your stomach twisted with anxiety. Had you let yourself be used again so easily?

But he came back not even a full minute later with a water bottle and a rag to clean you up. Dick slid closer, not one to leave you hanging either. He took the damp cloth from Jason’s hand and brought it down between your legs and over your back.

You laid there and let them tend to you without a word until Jason carefully guided you upright. He tilted the now-open bottle against your lips, getting you to take a couple swallows of the cool liquid.

“Take it easy, pretty girl,” he said softly.

A bead of water rolled down from your lips onto your chin as he pulled the bottle away. You wiped it off with your index finger, your eyes flitting between the both of them.

While you may have patched things up, they still weren’t entirely normal. You were in a weird sort of limbo right now, just waiting to see what they would decide to do next.

Jason leaned in to plant a barely-there kiss on your temple. You took his large hand in your own, clasping your fingers around the warm flesh. “I’m gonna go put some clothes on,” he said.

He stood up and headed towards the stairs again, this time to actually leave the room. Your hands trailed down his skin, lingering on his fingertips before finally letting him go.

You contemplated your next move for a moment before turning to Dick. You took his hand as you’d done to Jason’s and gave it a squeeze.

He met it with that small smile of his. Reaching out, the bows of his fingers coasted over your cheek.

“You feeling better than before?” he asked.

You responded with a nod, determined for that to be the absolute truth.

“Good,” he said.

You stood up from the couch next and began picking up the clothing that was strewn about the area. He helped you out, picking his own garments and a couple of Jason’s. Together you both took them upstairs to your room.

While there, you put on a pair of fresh clothes, just a t-shirt and some shorts. Nothing too extravagant. You were too tired for that. 

Dick followed suit, pulling on some sweats to lounge around in. He flopped back onto your mattress and opened his arms for you.

You smiled and looked away playfully. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna get myself some more water.”

“Don’t be too long,” he teased.

“Don’t be impatient,” you said, in the same lilted tone.

You shut your bedroom door behind you and made your way across the walkway. On the path there, you just happened to notice. Jason’s door was shut. Seeing that stung a little bit. Maybe you hadn’t mended things as well as you thought.

But you forced yourself to shake off the impending doom and gloom. Even if things weren’t perfect, they were a step closer to better. It might take time. You had patience, just like you’d told him. He was worth the effort.

Once you reached the kitchen, you did fill up a glass of water for yourself, but you didn’t head back up to your room immediately. Instead, you drifted towards the balcony doors. It was dark out there, the horizon so vast it made you feel as if the wind could sweep you up and carry you away.

You unlatched the lock and cracked the door open, stepping outside. The night air instantly sent a chill across your exposed skin. The wind nipped at your legs and sliced over your forearms. You wrapped them around your torso for some semblance of warmth.

Despite the wind, it was quiet out here. The city was lit up down below, but you couldn’t hear the noise of it. You approached the railing, still a step or two away from actually touching the barrier.

The fresh air filled your lungs. For the first time in days, you didn’t feel wound up about something. Things had settled with Jason, you knew Dick wasn’t upset with you, and you honestly couldn’t care less about the things your father had said earlier.

You wished you could be like this all the time. Serene and tranquil, not so reactionary, lashing out at the slightest deviation to your wishes.

The door opened and clicked into place again behind you. You spun around, heart beating fast, but it was only Jason.

“Hey…” he said, taking a few tentative steps in your direction.

“Hi…” You took a couple in his as well.

You met in the middle, equidistant from the glass doors and the steel railing. Your eyes met his. A silent exchange passed between the two of you, one without words or even coherent thoughts, just raw emotion.

His arm came out before you could say a word. He looped it over your shoulders and brought you in to his chest.

“Thought you never came out here?” he asked.

Your hand curled around his bicep. “I just felt like it tonight.”

Another few seconds went by with the wind doing all the talking. But he didn’t let things stall for too long.

“I went to your room. Dick told me you were getting water.”

“Why’d you go there?” you asked quietly. Your fingers swirled little patterns on his arm while hope bloomed in your chest.

“Maybe I wanted to be in there with you two tonight…” he said, so soft and faint as if he was forced to confess it.

“Just for tonight?” you whispered, tilting your head up to see him clearly. “Will it be your last?”

“No,” he said back. A simple answer, but the only one you needed all the same. He wasn’t leaving. Not yet anyways.

You squeezed your arms tighter around him, shutting your eyes and taking a deep breath of his air.

“You can always be in there. Whenever you want,” you said.

“Good. I’m gonna hold you to that for the next few weeks.”

The next few weeks. A dreadful reminder that your relationship rested upon the foundation of an ever-ticking clock. It didn’t matter right now though. Not while he was in your arms, telling you he wanted you back. You could worry about what would happen down the line in January when it came.

“Let’s start right now then.” You stepped back and took his hand, leading him back inside and up to the bedroom. In there, with both of them, time wouldn’t matter. Other assignments or obligations would have no effect. You could bury yourself in the mess of pillows and blankets, happy that you had managed to turn things around just this once.

[tojicide]

SNIPER, SNIPER! ☆ LEON KENNEDY

summary. in leon’s line of work as a contract killer, weaknesses weren’t an option. luckily, he’d eliminated his… all except for one.

warnings. fem!reader, hitman!leon, ex!leon, re4 leon intended. discussion of murder, guns, bullets, etc. a loooot of blissful ignorance, porn with some plot, pet names, oral sex ( fem. receiving ), face sitting, missionary, unprotected p in v, creampie. wc. 5.3k.

note. i tend to fuck up a nice “ex who is a raging munch” fic or two saurrrr this is basically my staple now

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

Leon isn’t sure why he’s here.

He hasn’t ever bid on a target as sought after as the one that he has now acquired. The target was only described as someone who simply ‘knows too much’ about something they shouldn’t. Vague, he thinks, especially because they remained nameless, genderless, and description-less otherwise. It was odd, for sure, but it was the highest contract that he had ever come by.

As a matter of fact, he’s positive that it’s the highest contract that anyone in his position has ever seen, let alone signed. He’s sure that he’s ruffled a bit of feathers by taking on the job, especially considering that he was still considered fresh meat among the other hitmen that he was distantly familiar with.

Leon preferred to stay out of the unusual politics that came with the underground world, and that meant taking on the jobs that no one deemed urgent enough to complete.

(Plenty of drug dealers, a few sketchy nightclub owners, and an awful bunch of politicians who he is 99% sure put the bounty on their own heads to avoid the scandal that was unearthed about each of them no less than two weeks after they were found with bullets in their brains. He preferred those hits. All men, all guilty of something.)

Nevertheless, he finds himself here, perched on the rooftop of an upscale bar with his sniper rifle angled over the ledge. His scope was perfectly aligned with the entrance of the night club across the street, his right eye narrowed while the other was completely shut.

He sighs, tapping onto his earpiece to communicate with his teammate that was a few buildings over. Alexander.

(Alexander was a tech-nut. He was responsible for ensuring that the coast was clear, that there weren’t an abundance of cops in the area, and that security cameras of the establishment were looped continually in order to ensure that no one could suspect anything more than someone being at the wrong place at the wrong time.)

“Reread the target description that was left for me,” Leon quietly commands.

“Aaand what’s the magic word?”

He heavily sighs. For a job like this, he figured that working alone would be the best option, but with the more he learned, the more experience he gained, the people he met—he was proven wrong. A team works more efficiently than a single person, even if the other half of his current team was a bit… annoying.

“Don’t piss me off,” he huffs, shaking his head as he closes one eye to look through the scope again.

Leon can practically hear Alexander’s grin on the other end of the line as he speaks. “Alright, man, jeez. Your g-string must be a bit too tight tonight, but that’s alright, I’m in no place to judge you.”

Before the blonde can even react to that unsettling quip, Alexander continues speaking, only this time, he does what Leon asks of him. “Bounty, bounty, bounty… where is the darn thing? Oh yes, here it is. Okay, it says that the target will be wearing a blue button-up shirt, a black coat, and black slacks tonight…. and that’s it.”

Leon hums, mulling over the very few words that were left for him by the person who had posted the contract in the first place. He’d never killed someone based on the description of an outfit alone,  but then again, he’s never gotten paid this much for sending a bullet through a random guy’s skull. He’ll take it.

“Thanks,” he mutters, turning off his ear piece to drown out the voice of the male on the other end.

It feels like hours pass by in which all he does is stare at the entrance, watching as each attendee leaves the establishment periodically. Each time he saw the color red, he’d perk up, only to find that they were wearing jeans, or they were wearing a white blazer, which only left him feeling more annoyed as time went on.

And then, the door opens. He can practically feel the air flee his lungs as he taps onto his earpiece out of instinct. A blue button-up shirt, a black coat, and black slacks.

“Ooh. Pretty. We guessed wrong, didn’t we?” Alexander speaks through the earpiece, which causes Leon to raise a brow.

“What’re you…” his voice trails. His blood runs cold, his palms begin to sweat, and his eyes blow wide. “Holy… fuck.”

“I know right? Not only is she a woman, but she’s miiiighty fine,” his teammate speaks, his voice oddly humorous for the given situation. A moment of silence passes, and Alexander continues to talk, but he can’t hear a damn word.

Leon freezes like a deer in headlights as he watches you emerge from the dim nightclub with a man’s arm slung around your shoulder, though that hardly taints how angelic you look tonight.

Your hair frames your face so beautifully, so soft and feminine. The tip of your nose was flushed given the crisp night air that you’ve just stepped into, your smile was wide and toothy as you walked beside a man that he didn’t recognize.

You’re gorgeous, is all he can manage to think right now. It’s the first time he’s seen you since the moment the two of you broke up six months ago, and you look even prettier than when he pictured you each night to fall asleep. He dreamt of you often, but his lovesick mind was no match for imagining the beauty that you possess.

Suddenly, Alexander’s voice pierced through his haze, bringing him back to the current scene. “Earth to Leon? I get it man, she’s pretty, very much so. I’d hit that too if she wasn’t gonna die in like… two secs.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he hisses, his voice sounding just as venomous as he’d intended it to. “You aren’t going to lay a damn finger on her.”

“Woah, buddy. Big talk from the guy with a sniper aimed at her head.”

That is the moment in which everything clicks in the worst way imaginable.

It’s you. His target, the person who knows too much, the one who is supposed to die tonight—it’s you.

And then, he becomes acutely aware of the lines that are obstructing his view of you. His scope. The red dot in the center placed strategically on your temple, the bullet meant just for you waiting for a simple pull of a trigger.

Leon shudders, picking his head up. No. Absolutely not. Completing his task was not even a thought in his mind anymore, not if the target was you. His beautiful, sweet girl.

But he couldn’t leave the scene unscathed. It would raise suspicion, possibly even tie him to you in a way that you didn’t need. If he didn’t fulfill the obligation in some way, someone else would. He’d broken up with you to save you from all of this, and now, he’d unknowingly come here to make you familiar with his lifestyle in the worst way possible.

You were walking away, and it’s then that his trained eyes fall onto the man who has his arm draped over your shoulder in the way he used to all those months ago. His heart aches at the mere sight of you looking so happy in the company of another, but it gives him an idea.

Leon looks through the scope again, and within seconds, a loud gunshot rings through the air in the form of a thundering pop.

His jaw tenses as he hears screaming. They aren’t your screams though, because you’re not hit. They’re coming from the man you were with, because Leon has just lightly grazed his arm with a bullet.

He wasn’t insane. He wasn’t going to be killing anyone tonight, even if he desperately wanted to kick the living shit out of the man who is so close to you.

Well… was close to you. He isn’t anymore. Your date is writhing on the pavement all because of a flesh wound, and you’re standing above him with the most confused and concerned look on your face.

Leon can’t help but think that the man has no regard for you and your safety. For all this mystery man knows, more shots could be coming, and instead of trying to protect you, he’s rolling around on the concrete like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Such a man baby.

“What’re you waiting for? Holy fuck, uh… you still have the shot. Take the shot—”

Leon pulls the earpiece away, turning it off before he shoves it into his back pocket. He didn’t need to be scolded by anyone, let alone someone as useless as his teammate. He’d beat him bloody for how he had spoken about you if he weren’t already packing up his equipment to head over to your place.

He needs to check on you, first and foremost. He also needs to explain himself which was… going to be no easy feat, he supposes.

You don’t find your way home until about an hour later, keys jumbling about as you push it into the slot, twisting it with a tired hand.

To be shot at was not on your agenda for tonight, but being berated by your date for not reacting quick enough to help him evade a bullet you had no knowledge of was certainly not how you wanted to end your night either.

Annoyed, exhausted, and frustrated, you step into your apartment. When you begin to shrug off your coat, your body tenses. No. Fucking. Way.

“What the fuck?” you hiss, your voice rising in octave.

Leon stands from your couch, approaching you with his hands in the air, attempting to show you that he hadn’t come with malice. You knew he hadn't, but that didn’t mean you wanted to see him.

“Baby, it’s just me,” he says without thinking, the pet name slipping out before he could have a say in the matter.

“Yeah, I know it’s just you, that’s the problem!” you continue, hanging your coat up on the rack along with your purse. “Are you out of your damn mind? I—”

“Yes,” he answers without hesitation. “I am out of my mind, and you must be out of yours for still keeping your spare key under your doormat. I told you to move it years ago.”

Your brows knit together. “You little— you know what? I’m not even going to entertain that. How about this? You leave, and we forget this happened, yeah?”

“Can’t do that,” he tells you with a shrug, crossing his arms over his wide chest. “I need to talk to you.”

“Don’t do this, Leon, not tonight,” you huff, pinching your nose bridge. “I’m not in the mood, alright? I was—”

“Shot at?” he finishes your sentence. He immediately regrets it, pressing his lips into a line to keep himself from saying anything else.

Your demeanor falters at that. You tilt your head to the side, your eyes narrowing as you look at him from where he stands across the room. “How do you know that?”

He takes a moment to answer, his mouth opening without any words coming out. It spikes your frustration, so you speak again. “Damn it, Leon, how do you know that?”

Leon holds his hands up again, pleading his defense before he criminalizes himself entirely. “I was the one behind the gun, but it’s not what you think—”

Your jaw drops. “Not what I think? Not what I think? You tried to kill me!”

He shakes his head, his expression falling. “I didn’t, baby. I swear. Just let me explain, and—”

“You tried to shoot me in the damn neck!” you continue, your hand dramatically clasping into the side of your throat.

Leon closes his eyes for a moment, internally bracing himself for your outburst that he absolutely deserves. He opens them again, simply watching as you spew insults his way. He takes them without any hint of irritation.

“What the hell, Leon? Is that what you do now? You stalk your ex-girlfriend and try to kill her? Not only that, you missed. You missed! That’s almost fucking humorous, because how can you try to do something like that and then miss!”

Leon sighs, waiting for a moment to see if you try to continue, and when you don’t, he speaks instead. “I aimed for his arm, not your neck, or anywhere else that would endanger you—”

“Yeah, and you almost blew his arm off!” You’re more than aware that the statement was dramatic, but you don’t need to have any sense right now.

“It was a flesh wound, he’ll be just fine,” he tells you before he continues with what he was saying before. “And I wasn’t stalking you. Not knowingly, anyway. I would never hurt you. Not ever. Your date was just… collateral. I had no choice.”

He hopes that you don’t ask any more questions about that, because he won’t have any answers for you. It was for the better. All you knew was that his job wasn’t legal. It couldn’t have been, not with the copious amounts of money that rolled in while he hardly worked for half of the month.

The less you knew about what his line of work entailed, the safer you were. The further away you were from him, the safer you were. However, those last words now ring hollow.

“Look…” he whispers, taking a step towards you despite his brain screaming at him to leave. He couldn’t. Not when he was the only one who knew of your compromised position. “I know that much has changed between us. It’s my fault, I know it, but I can’t tell you anything more about my job. I just need you to—”

You need answers that you won’t be getting, and that sentiment alone makes you furious. When he gets too close, your hand moves to the leather harness that he has strapped around his broad chest, pulling a sharp-bladed knife from its sleeve. His eyes widen as you hold the blade up to him, his hands shooting up into the air yet again.

“You remember where I put my spare key, I remember where you keep your spare knife,” you taunt, the two of you standing so close now that he can feel the warmth of your breath on his face. “Guess we haven’t changed as much as you think.”

He huffs as the cool blade grazes his clothed chest, the metal so close that it nearly pierces his skin. Even then, you ensure that it doesn’t. It’s almost touching how you press such a sharp object to his heart of all places, he thinks.

Your situation is far more complicated than the both of you can handle right now. You have unresolved issues with each other, and that alone must be addressed before you can even begin to scratch the surface of the threats that now face the two of you.

“I still think you’re sexy when you’re mean to me,” he whispers, tilting his head to the side. “That hasn’t changed either.”

Was it the time for his flirtatious performance? Certainly not, but you were putting on a little performance of your own just the same.

You scoff, narrowing your eyes. “You’re disgusting.”

Leon shakes his head, his eyes narrowing just as yours did. “Disgusting? Oh, don’t romance me.”

“I’m not romancing you,” you huff with an eye roll. Your grip on the knife only tightens, but you have no real intention of using it. “I’m threatening you.”

He hardly finds you to be threatening. He’d liken you to an angry cat, but he wouldn’t dare voice that out loud. He’s letting you have your moment, truth be told. “Mm, even better.”

His calloused hand moves to shadow yours, slowly lowering the knife that begged to pierce his pale skin. You let him, which only gives him more incentive to pull it away from your grasp entirely.

He tucks the knife back into his sheath, moving to unbuckle the harness entirely. “Now, tell me. Who was that guy?”

A random guy you met on Tinder. “My future husband.”

You’re just trying to get under his skin now, and judging by the look on his face, it’s working. He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down at you, taking note of that smug grin that stretches over your lips.

He really just wants to fuck it right off you, but he doesn’t make that known. Not yet, anyway.

“Yeah?” he asks, tilting his head. “You gonna let him put a ring on that pretty finger of yours?”

No, you absolutely were not, but you’re enjoying this game. It’s what he deserves after scaring the shit out of you tonight. “Yeah, I am. Thinking about some baby names too, just for safekeeping.”

Leon doesn’t like the thought that you’ve just put in his head, not one bit. His hand finds your left one, bringing it up to his lips as he presses a kiss on your ring finger. “Huh. That’s what you want?”

You tilt your head, noticing how his lips linger on your hand for a moment too long. “You know what I don’t want? To be shot at.”

He hums, giving you a mocking frown. Of course he feels bad about that, but… you both know he hadn’t truly shot at you. Around you, yes, but not at you. His large hands find your waist, his fingers grasping onto the fabric of your shirt and slowly but surely, you find yourself being backed towards your couch.

“Answer my question,” he whispers, his voice now possessing a rasp that it didn’t have before.

You sigh, willingly sitting on your couch, even though you’re doing your best to front as though you’re totally disinterested. “Why should I?”

He shrugs, his lips tugging down as he tilts his head. You watch with blown eyes as he kneels in front of you, his palms gliding over your thighs.

“‘Cause if that’s what you want, I’ll give it to you.”

You tilt your head, eyeing him quite intently as his fingers move to the button of your slacks. You shouldn’t be turned on, but you absolutely are, and the damp fabric of your panties that he’s about to see conveys that pretty well.

“Give me what?” you ask, grinning slightly.

“A ring, a baby… both, neither,” he replies, his fingers hooking beneath your waistband. “Lift your hips for me.”

When you do just that, his eyes raise to find yours. He has a crazed look in his eye, one that you’re all too familiar with. “Whatever you want, baby, I’ll give it to you,” he whispers, leaning in until his soft lips just barely brush against yours.

Your eyes close, and you could have sworn that he was going to kiss you… but he doesn’t. When you open your eyes, you find him grinning. The same shit-eating grin that you love and hate to no avail.

“You just have to say the words,” he whispers against your lips.

You roll your eyes, your hand reaching out to rest on the back of his neck. He was already impossibly close, so all you truly did was hold him there. “I want to kiss you.”

Leon smiles, nodding his head in agreement. “Mm, like I said. Whatever my lady wants, she gets.”

His lips find yours in a searing kiss, his calloused hands smoothing over the soft, exposed skin of your thighs. Your lips move together in a gentle manner at first, as though you were allowing yourselves to get familiar all over again, but you were both quick to realize that gentleness was the last thing you needed.

Your breathing grows ragged as one of his hands cups the back of your head, tilting you just enough so that his tongue could easily slip into your mouth. The kiss was sloppier, messier, much more desperate. It was perfect, in your humble opinion.

He trails kisses down your cheek, jaw, neck… just about anywhere he could as he begins his gradual descent. His hands palm at your breasts through your shirt, and without hesitation, his hands grasp onto the fabric and yank it open. Buttons go flying about your living room, but Leon doesn’t seem to care with the way his face pressed into your cleavage.

One of his hands snaked behind you to undo the clasp of your bra, and the moment he saw a nipple, his mouth was already distracted once again.

“Leon, that was my favorite shirt!” you scold, glancing down at him.

He looks up at you with hazed eyes, sucking the peak of your breast into his mouth before he releases it to reply to you. “Was it?” he asks, his reply lacking any care in the slightest.

You nod, narrowing your eyes at him, but your front doesn’t last long when his tongue swirls around your areola. He reaches into his back pocket, tossing his wallet beside you.

“Buy a new one, shit, buy anything you want,” he whispers against your skin, his hands grasping onto your waist. “Tits are so pretty, baby. I missed you.”

“Is that all you missed about me?” you ask, a huff of laughter leaving your lips while his trail down your stomach.

“Absolutely not, no,” he murmurs against your skin, his fingers hooking beneath the fabric of your panties. He looks at you as he pulls them down your legs, and he presses his warm lips to your inner calves and thighs as he makes his way towards you again. “Missed everything about you.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s corny—”

“Sh,” he tells you, holding one finger up while he uses his other hand to slip one into your sopping entrance. Your walls clench around him, which only forces a chuckle to leave his mouth. “Let her talk for a bit, yeah?”

He hardly gives you a moment to reply before his head dips, his tongue curling up to stimulate your clit before he sucks on it entirely. He unabashedly moans into your cunt, introducing another finger into your entrance simultaneously.

Your head falls back, your hand delving into his hair to hold him impossibly closer to you, even though he seriously would get closer if he could.

“Sweetest pussy,” he murmurs into your heat, his voice rumbling against your wet cunt that he continued to eat like he would die if he didn’t. “Do somethin’ for me?”

You pick your head up to look down at him, nodding without question. He opens his eyes to look at you in return, pressing a kiss onto your mound before he turns around so that his back is now pressed against the front of your couch, still sitting on the ground.

“Sit on my face,” he suggests, tipping his head back onto the couch cushion.

He reaches for your hand to pull you forward, and you pivot on your knee, your front facing the back of the couch. He lays a light smack on your ass before he pulls you down the rest of the way to make you sit on his face.

Your hand reaches down, clutching onto his hair yet again while you cry out in genuine bliss. His tongue softens as he gives you long, deep licks into your pussy, wanting to taste every inch of you on his tongue.

And when your hips start to rock, he seems to be even happier. Much more incentivized too. He lulls his tongue out of his mouth, flattening it to let you ride his face as you so pleased. You made a mess of his chin, his mouth, his nose—he hardly cares.

(In fact, he doesn’t care. Not one bit. You might even have to pay him to care.)

“Y-You know,” you whine, grasping a bit firmer onto his hair while your hips continue to roll on his tongue, “I’m still mad at you.”

He nods his head, which only stimulates your cunt even more. “Mm, yeah?”

It felt so good. Everything about this was absolutely ecstasy, you can feel your eyes pricking with tears from how stimulated you’re growing.

“Yeah,” you choke out, resting your palms on the back of the couch to brace yourself. “I’m really fucking mad.”

Leon can’t help but grin, his hands brushing along the plush of your thighs. “I’m not too sure, sweetheart. Not with you riding my face like you love me ‘n all.”

“Shut… shut the hell up,” you moan, squeezing your eyes shut as your movements begin to grow even more crazed the closer you get to your release. He was right, but that didn’t mean you had to admit that.

“Okay,” he complies, his eyes fluttering shut while he starts to greedily make out with your pussy, feeling the way you pulsate on his tongue. “Shuttin’ me up real nice with this pretty little pussy. Cum on my face too while you’re at it, pretty girl.”

Not nice enough, but you cry out anyway, your head falling while your legs tremble on either side of his head. “I… Leon, ‘m cumming,” you say through an airy moan.

His movements slow as yours do, his tongue eagerly reaping the benefits of its labor in the form of your sweet release. He lets out a content sigh, pressing a few sweet kisses on your inner thigh.

You slowly rise up from his face, and he turns around to face you again, licking his lips, not caring about the rest of your thin slick that coats his face. You chuckle, running your hand over his face to wipe it away.

“So…” he drawls, pressing a kiss to your palm. “You’re still mad at me? Tell me more.”

“Later,” you reply, hooking your finger into the loophole of his pants to pull him closer to you.

With a chuckle, Leon pulls his shirt up and over his head, tossing it aimlessly on the floor of your living room. He gently nudges you until you’re laying back on your couch, his hands then moving to undo his belt.

“Ah, I see,” he teases, pushing his pants and boxers down in one motion. He kicks them away before he settles in between your parted legs, his hand pumping his cock.

You raise your eyes from his cock to his eyes, and you give him the most weary expression alive. “I don’t think it’s gonna fit,” you say.

It’s been too long, you were certainly not used to his size anymore. Leon knew it just as well as you did, but he didn’t want to make you nervous by saying that.

His brows knit together as he leans down to kiss you, his fingers moving a bit lower to prod your entrance. “You flatter me,” he says against your lips, his head dipping a bit lower to kiss your neck. “But there’s no need to worry your pretty head, baby. It fit before and it fit just right, remember? I’ll take care of you just like I did then.”

You nod your head, one of your hands cupping the back of his head while the other rests on his strong shoulder. “Okay… yeah, okay.”

He nods too, moving one of his hands to meet the one that you have resting on his shoulder. He intertwines your fingers, pushing your hand back onto the couch while he uses his other one to slide his tip along your folds.

“I promise,” he whispers, pulling back to look you in the eyes. “I’ll take care of you.”

He always has. Even after the events of tonight, you know that he always will.

“I love you,” you say without thinking. A flush rushes across your face, and you close your eyes in utter embarrassment. (Seriously? A confession of your undying love while he’s actively entering you? Time and place.) “I’m so sorry, I—”

“Nothing to apologize for,” he whispers, pushing his cock further inside of you until he bottoms out. “Mm… I love you so much,” he replies without a care in the world. “And I’m not sorry about it.”

Your eyes soften at that, and a small chuckle leaves your lips. “Well… that’s good, isn’t it…?”

His eyebrows knit together, laughing softly at your awkward reply. “You’re such a dork, baby,” he whispers, dipping his head to plant a kiss on your lips while he rolls his hips into yours. “A pretty one, though.”

Your eyes flutter shut as he presses a kiss on your lips, and they stay shut, even when he opts to just rest his forehead on yours. “Your dork,” you say, a bit breathlessly with a smile on your face.

“Mhm,” he nods in agreement, a toothy smile stretching across his face. “My dork.”

Such a lovely interaction that you nearly forgot that he was fucking you like there was no tomorrow, because the moment he falls silent, your eyes widen. “Oh, God…”

He smiles, kissing your cheek while he continues to thrust inside of you, his cock being swallowed whole by your pussy in a way that made him feel like he was finally home.

“See?” he whispers in your ear, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re taking me so well, pretty. So well.”

That makes you chuckle, but your laugh doesn’t last for long when the head of his cock rams into you even harder. Your hand smooths out along the expanse of his back, dragging your nails back up.

“You’re crazy,” you gasp out.

Leon smiles. “Crazy about you, sure.”

You laugh through an airy moan, tilting your head to the side as your eyes flutter shut. “Sooo corny,” you whisper.

He shakes his head with his same toothy grin, using his free hand to tilt your chin towards him again. His thumb brushes along your bottom lip before he kisses you, and it is just about the sweetest kiss that you could have ever asked for.

“You love it,” he murmurs in reply, a bit breathless as an overwhelming heat pools in his lower stomach.

You shake your head. “I love you.”

Leon clicks his tongue at that, giving your hand a squeeze. “And I’m the corny one?”

That makes you laugh, which makes him laugh. He loves hearing you like this, so happy yet so utterly ruined by the way he feels inside of you. He knows that the feeling is mutual, which only amplifies how much he’s enjoying this. Having you again.

He softly moans in your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “Pussy was made for me,” he rasps, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear. “You were made for me.”

After a few more strokes, he truly begins to lose himself. His cock twitches inside of you, and he dips his head into your shoulder. “Mmh, ‘m gonna cum,” he rasps.

He pulls back, but you only pull him closer. It’s been so long, he hadn’t truly thought that you’d be okay with that. But here you were, his favorite girl. Always surprising him. “I love you, sweet girl.”

You nod your head, wrapping your free arm around his neck while the other gives his hand another squeeze. “I love you more.”

He grunts when your walls clench around his length, his lips pressing a longing kiss to your shoulder. “Cum with me, baby, c’mon. I need it, honey, please.”

You’re in no position to deny him or yourself. Your body trembles beneath him, a gorgeous moan ripping through the air while he buries himself deep inside of you, stuffing you full of his cum while you find your own release on his cock.

The two of you lay there for a moment, out of breath and entirely engulfed by one another. He slowly pulls out of you, pressing a few chaste kisses along your shoulder, your neck, your jaw, until he eventually kisses your lips.

When he pulls away, you smile up at him. You chase his lips once more, giving him a tender kiss before you lay your head back down.

“Now, as for why I’m still mad at you…”

note. yeahhh i need him bad in a way that’s concerning to feminism. anywhoooo interact if you enjoyed i rly like writing for him :D thank you so much for reading!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

[anonf1writer]

like you always did. like he always did. — LN4

summary: lando is going through something and he pushes you away. written. 8,8k words. content: angst to hurt to comfort. warning: suggestive language. mental health struggles. based on this request

note:¹ sorry lando I used a few real moments from your races to write about something that says more about me than about you lolll but I was in the mood and this is what I came up to.

note²: this was supposed to be 500 words 🤪

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April 13th.

The Bahrain Grand Prix.

That’s when things started shifting.

It had taken you a while to see it, but now, if anyone were to ask, you’d be able to not only find the exact date on the calendar but also prepare a PowerPoint presentation of all the little things that had been piling on since then. The missed call at the airport, the distracted answer when he got home. The extra silence on your way to the grocery store. The way he reached for your hand and unconsciously brushed your knuckles with his thumb, but his mind wasn’t really there.

Back then, you told yourself he was taking his last weekend harder than usual. Qualifying sixth, finishing third, getting a five-second penalty and dropping to 14th. It all weighed on him. Of course it did. You didn’t need to be a genius, or his girlfriend, to know that. Not if you had seen his interviews, right after the race. If you had heard the disappointment in his voice. In his words.

The self-blaming had been there, not just between the lines, but laid open for everyone to see. For everyone to judge. For everyone to share an opinion on.

So you didn’t take it personally. The quietness, the unhappiness, the overthinking. The shifting. Because it didn’t feel about you. It felt about him.

Instead, you gave him some space and made sure to be there for him in any way you could be. You asked him about it, of course. About his feelings. About his well-being. But you didn’t push when he deflected the topic. Neither entertained him when he wrapped his arms around your waist and apologized for not answering your call.

“It’s fine,” you said, threading your fingers in his curls while he hid his face on your neck. “Are you okay? Wanna talk about it?”

Lando shook his head and nuzzled further into you. And so, you respected that. You didn’t insist. You cooked some dinner, chose some random and superficial sit-com for you to watch together. You tried to make him laugh. You tried to cheer him up. At night, you spooned him in bed, pressed your lips right between his shoulder blades, and expressed how proud you were. From his overtaking, to his fairness, to his ability to stay true to himself. And then when he sighed and leaned into your touch, you kept smothering his back with kisses. You reminded him how impressive he was. And how despite everything, he still had managed to make his way up and get a spot on the podium for himself. And you were proud—so, so proud.

Lando still didn’t talk, still didn’t share, but he did roll over and kissed you. He tangled his legs with yours, sneaked his hands under the fabric of your old t-shirt, and made sure to fill you with affection. He murmured how much he had missed you, how good it was to be back. How much he loved you. How beautiful you were. He proved how thankful he was to you. Proved with his actions, with his determination to make you feel good. To have you gasping for air, sighing his name, and biting your lip after cursing in ecstasy over and over again.

The next morning, things seemed better. Not perfect, but better. As if he was on his way of getting himself back out there. He joked more. He laughed from the heart. He snuggled with you on the couch, and he absently thread his fingers in your hair before falling asleep. There was a lot of kissing involved, too. A lot of distraction. All the time. A lot of making the most of your time together, before he had to leave again.

By Thursday night, after you had helped him pack, you were both in the shower, breathing out each other’s names, saying goodbye in that intense, filthy and yet loving way you always did before a race.

So, yes, things had seemed better.

Despite the sadness.

Despite the frustration.

Despite everything.

Lando had seemed better.

Things between you two had seemed better.

Normal.

Or, at least, that’s what you thought.

Because then, on Friday morning, before the sun had risen and when he left again, he didn’t leave you a note. He kissed your forehead in your sleep, you vaguely remembered that, but he didn’t leave a cheeky post it on the fridge. Something he always did. Even when you were there, watching him scribble down the words right in front of you. From Bahrain to Bahrain. Including Australia. China. Japan.

Just a reminder that I love you. And I’ll miss you. x

I love you. And I’m gonna miss your head… I mean your brain, naughty girl! ;)

Just so you know, last night I let you win at Mario Kart. Please forgive me. I love you.

Damn you look hot sleeping all naked in bed. Gonna miss that sight. See you soon! Love you.

Please wear my clothes while I’m away. Wanna be all over you even when I’m not. x (ps: I love you)

That morning, uneasiness quivered in your belly. You looked around the kitchen, once and twice, just to make sure a new note hadn’t fallen on the floor. You checked the bed. You checked the nightstands on each side of the bed. When you didn’t find anything, you frowned.

Had something happened?

It was silly, though. You knew that. It wasn’t his obligation to write something down. He didn’t have to do it. Still, the bell rang inside your mind. An invisible red flag waved right in front of your eyes. Because it was odd. And because it felt out of place for him. It felt distant. It felt worrying. It felt like a sign of something. Like a breach in your already stablished routine.

And yet, it was just a post it.

Just a note.

Something that felt really—really—silly to mention. After all, Lando had never given you any reasons to overthink things. He had never made you feel anything less than the most important person in his life. He had never treated you with anything but love, kindness, and respect. Not even during that past week, when his mind had been clearly swamped by thoughts and pressures he hadn’t been ready to name. He still kissed your forehead every morning, even before he left for the next grand prix. Still made your tea exactly how you liked it, without even asking. Still pulled you close at night like you were the only solid thing anchoring him to the world. So you didn’t want to be the kind of person that made a big deal out of such a small detail. Out of nothing. Especially when his mind seemed to be already so full of guilt.

And therefore, you didn’t say it.

You didn’t bring it up.

You made yourself coffee, texted him good morning, and asked him to let you know when he had landed in Jeddah. You also joked about already missing him in bed, how cold it already felt without him. You kept it light-hearted. Kept it simple. Kept it normal. And you moved on from it. You got yourself ready for work. Checked social media. Texted some friends. Stepped out into the outside world.

Hoping to bring some normalcy to yourself.

Eventually, he replied. As soon as he landed. Casual. Simple. Affectionate. Just like usual. Proving a tiny slip up in your routine didn’t necessarily mean a thing.

So, you convinced yourself everything was normal. Because there was no reason to think otherwise.

Later in the afternoon, you texted him a picture of you watching the first practice session. Like you always did. From your living room, wearing one of his older McLaren hoodies. Adding a random comment here and there. Just to let him know you were paying attention. That you were there for him, even when you weren’t. Then, as soon as it ended, you congratulated him on finishing second. You told him those 0.007 seconds were nothing, and that you believed he could finish at the top of the list next time. After that, you put your phone aside. You did some laundry. You went through some emails. And you waited for him to text back. Like he always did.

Except this time, he didn’t.

Hours went by, the second free practice session was about to start, and you had to double-check your phone to make sure it had actually happened. That he really hadn’t replied. Even though he always did. No matter what. Just to let you know he was there. That he was thinking of you, too.

You swallowed, opening his chat. Sitting on your couch, still wearing his clothes. Peeking at his beautiful face on the big screen as he got ready in his car, surrounded by his team. Only to find out your texts had gone from delivered to seen, and yet never replied. And with that, you frowned at your screen.

Because for the first time since you’d started dating, Lando had read your text messages, and hadn’t acknowledged them. At all. Not even after the hour went by and the live transmission ended. Nor, at least, after you swallowed your pride and tried reaching out again. And again. Congratulating him on finishing first, reminding him how you knew he could do it. How much you believed in him.

As if you hadn’t noticed his absence.

As if you hadn’t noticed the shift.

As if you weren’t feeling it now.

The fear.

The doubt.

The agitation.

The heat on your chest.

The heaviness in your belly.

The skipping beats of your heart.

That Friday night, you laid awake in bed longer than usual. Rereading your texts. Scrolling down his Instagram posts. Checking fan accounts if only to make sure he was okay. That nothing bad had happened to him.

It was ridiculous, though. To stress like that.

To overthink without reaching out.

So you tried again, because you couldn’t pretend anymore.

Hey, you sent to him, feels weird not to hear from you all day. Is everything ok?

His reply, and apology, came only after midnight. It woke you up, of course. You were waiting for it. For the moment your phone would buzz in your hand. For the moment he would show up.

Sorry, he texted. Just got back to the hotel.

He explained himself, then. Apologized again. Told you how exhausted he was. What a long day with the team it had been. Going over strategies, through details, all the mistakes. Trying to make little changes, trying to help him win. Now, he just needed to catch some sleep, he needed to be rested for practice, and then for qualifying. He needed to focus. He needed to do better. So again, he apologized, then promised to call the next morning. As soon as he woke up.

And you took that.

Half-relieved, half-even-worse-than-before. Pretending not to be hurting, not to be confused. Saying not to worry about it, saying that you understood. Because you did. At least part of it.

You told him you’d be waiting for his call. That you loved him. And wished him a good night.

Lando replied right away after that. He told you he loved you as well. So much. That he missed you. And that he hoped he would dream about you.

His sweet words brought a smile to your face, and you hold onto that. You fell asleep hoping it would get better, praying things wouldn’t fall apart. Because why would they?

On Saturday morning, true to his words, Lando called. It was brief, too busy around him, a lil distracting. But he called. He asked how you were, he whispered how much he missed you, he repeated he loved you more than a few times. He sounded off, but not at yourself. More like tired. More like worried. More like afraid. So when you asked about the race and he changed the subject, you bit back your honest answer. You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and tried not to think too much of it. You played along. And you didn’t let him know how constantly nervous he was suddenly making you feel.

Before he hung up, he promised you he would text after the third practice session, like he always did. And once again he didn’t let you down, he stayed true to his words. He texted a picture from the car, an excited “donnnneeee” with a funny face underneath his helmet. You smiled at that. You congratulated him. Texted a random selfie yourself. Let him know how hot you thought he looked driving like that. Flirted a little bit. Then blushed and giggled when he flirted back. Naturally, when he announced he had to go, you wished him good luck. You told him you’d be watching him. Cheering for him. Like you always did.

When you thought about it, you couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if qualifying that day had been different. If he hadn’t crashed. If he hadn’t missed the opportunity to start on pole. Because you could tell that, even though things had started shifting in Bahrain, it had been Saudi Arabia that had officially blown everything up.

You were watching, when his car hit the wall. Of course you were. And even though you could tell he was fine, your heart might’ve as well been in that car with him and smashed into tiny pieces, wanting to absorb his frustration and swallow the million thoughts that were probably swirling in his mind. Because you heard it in his voice, when he called himself a “fucking idiot” to his team.

Lando wasn’t okay.

He wasn’t okay at all.

Aware of that, you didn’t wait for him to call.

You called him.

Once.

And twice.

And thrice.

By the fifth time, he answered.

“Hey,” he said, low and exhausted, carrying heartbreak in every letter. “Can’t really talk right now, but I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. Not a scratch. Text you later, ok? Love you.”

And then he hung up. Before you could even open your mouth to reply.

You frowned and stared at your phone for a few minutes before understanding what had happened. Before making sense of the many voices in the background, the calling of his name, the rushing that could only come from the paddock. You had to force yourself to imagine being in his position, and then to accept he couldn’t control everything around him. That there were commitments he couldn’t run away from. So you couldn’t take it personally. You couldn’t make it about you. About the relationship. About how worried, weird and confused you were feeling right now.

You had to force yourself to let him be.

So, you didn’t text him. Not like you wanted to, at least. Because you did send an ‘I love you’, followed by a red heart emoji, and you did tell him to please call you as soon as he could. But you didn’t mention how much it stung not hearing from him, not being the first and only thing in his mind. And you didn’t let the petty side of you snap at him when he finally showed up. Because he did show up. Later than you wished. From the darkness of his quiet hotel room. Shirtless, lying in bed. Symbolically sharing a pillow with you while staring at your face through the screen of his phone—a position you were mirroring from your side, as well.

“It is what it is,” he said, voice low and emotionless. “Gotta make sure to sleep well tonight and overtake as many cars as possible tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, comfy and tucked in, just like him.

“Why? I’m the one who drove into the wall.”

You pressed your lips together and sighed. Searched for words inside your brain and tried to comfort him. Tried to cheer him up. But you knew there was no point to it. You could feel it, in his voice, in his breathing, in his silence.

So, eventually, you asked, just as carefully as the topic felt, “Is there something else going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “Something feels… Off.”

Lando sighed. He moved his head, snuggled his face into the pillow, and looked at the hand holding his phone. Or his wrist. Or his fingers. Or just whatever there was in front of him. Anything, but your face.

“I’m starting p10 tomorrow,” he said. “That pole could’ve been mine, but I crashed into a fucking wall, so…”

You furrowed your brows.

“And I get that, I just—”

“Can we please… Can we just not talk about it?”

You closed your mouth and blinked. The sharpness in his voice wasn’t necessarily attacking you, but it made it clear that he wasn’t too far off from exploding. And if there was one thing you knew, is that you didn’t want to be the one lighting up the match the night before a race.

“Okay.” You nodded, your cheek brushing the fabric of your pillowcase—his pillowcase. “Yeah. Of course.”

Lando rolled over, then. Lying on his back and staring at the ceiling while keeping his arm stuck in place. While holding his phone—holding you—away from him.

You blinked again. And again, and again. Your chest tightened, and your stomach clenched tight.

“Hey,” you murmured, words getting out of your mouth before you could even think of them, “I love you, you know that, right?”

A beat of silence went by.

Faint streetlights outlined him just enough for you to notice the way he breathed in slowly, filling his lungs before letting it all out at once.

And then, he rolled back to his side, his cheek hitting his pillow and his eyes landing on you.

“I know,” he murmured, and a smile twitched at his mouth. Just barely. “Yeah. I’m sorry. For everything.”

“You don’t—”

“I need to get some sleep.”  

You pressed your lips together, then swallowed the lump in your throat.

Chest tightening.

Heartbeat speeding up.

“I can’t…” He shook his head, then rubbed one hand down his face. “Fuck. I love you. And I’m sorry. I really am. But I just… I can’t do this right now. I really can’t.”

He hung up, then, and the thud of your heart pulsing in your chest made it hard for you to comprehend things. You darted your eyes across the apps on the screen, around the dark bedroom, back to the phone. As if somehow you would find him there. Or maybe find some answers, at least.

Once again, you tried to understand him. See it from his point of view. The traveling, the racing. The pressure. The loneliness. The frustration. It made sense. Of course it did. It wasn’t easy. You knew it wasn’t. And yet…

Your breath hitched, and your eyes glistened.

You put your phone away and blinked rapidly, although not fast enough to stop the first tear from slipping out. Still stunned, still confused, you covered your face with both hands and cried quietly. All alone. Your chest aching with the weight of whatever was happening to him.

Because no matter how much you understood, it hurt. The fact that he wouldn’t lean into you when he clearly needed the most. The fact that instead of seeking your presence, he was pushing you away. So suddenly, so unexpectedly. So easily.

It hurt you so much that you barely slept that night.

And it hurt you so much that when Sunday morning arrived, you didn’t text him. At all. You stared at your phone, you laid in bed, you tried to do something useful. But you mostly just watched time go by. How the clock ticked, how race time became closer and closer each hour, and minute, and second.

How he never reached out.

It hurt you so much, and it confused you so much, that you didn’t text him good luck. Nor praised him every time he overtook. Nor celebrated the fact that he started tenth yet managed to finish four. It wasn’t easy, but you didn’t know how to behave. For the first time in so long, you didn’t know what to say to him. How to make it better. How to fix it.

How could you even fix something you didn't know it had broken in the first place?

Unable to keep watching him, to keep feeling like that, you turned off the TV and got up from the couch. You didn’t need to hear his voice during post-race interview. You didn’t need to see his life moving forward while you felt paralysed in time, just waiting for him to show up.

And so, Sunday went by, and you got no word from him. At all. And you cried. A lot. Because you had no idea why. And because he didn’t seem to need you. Because he didn’t seem to want you.

Then it was Monday morning.

And Monday afternoon.

And a lot of pacing was done.

Sadness slowly turned into anger.

Disbelief.

Self-love.

Awareness that, no matter what, you didn’t deserve that.

Finally, when nighttime arrived, and before emotions took fully over, you texted him again.

Thought you’d be home by now, you said, did you fly yet?

Surprisingly, he typed a response right away.

Yeah. Changed my flight to London, he said.

Mid-way to the kitchen, you stopped on your track. Heat flushing through your body and ears ringing as you read and re-read his words. Nostrils flaring as you breathed in. And out. Deeply. Heavily. Loudly.

Are you being serious right now? you typed back.

Yeah. Going to Surrey tomorrow morning and flying straight to Miami on Wednesday.

And then, alone in the apartment, you laughed.

Mostly because you didn’t know what else you could do.

Because your hands were shaking, and your heart was racing, and your boyfriend was trying so hard to stay away from you that he wasn’t coming back home anymore. And he hadn’t fucking let you know.

 Well thanks for the heads up, you found a way to text. Good to know that’s where I stand in your life.

Sorry, he said.

Are you? Really?

Unsurprisingly, this time he didn’t reply.

He read. He typed. He gave up. And then he left the app, a loud and clear last seen underneath his name indicating he wasn’t even trying to reach out. Not anymore.

Things were a blur after that. Tuesday sucked, stepping out into the world and having to live your normal life sucked. Being awake sucked. All you wanted was your bed, to cry yourself to sleep, to wake up from whatever nightmare you had been stuck in.

Then his friend texted you, asked if he could give you a call. And you frowned, but said yes, of course, and answered even before the phone could fully buzz in your hand.

“Have you talked to Lando today?” he asked.

You gave a bitterly laugh at that, closed your eyes and pinched the tip of your nose.

“I haven’t, no.”

“Figured,” his friend said. “I’m worried.”

And that got to you. Not because you hadn’t been worried up until then, but because it proved this—whatever this was—was bigger than you.

So you sighed, dropped your body on the couch, and stared at the wall across from you.

“Yeah, me too,” you admitted. “He was supposed to come home, but… Did he tell you? He was going to London?”

“Not really. He just showed up on my door.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…”

Silence.

“We were supposed to fly with him tomorrow,” his friend added.

“And you’re not anymore?”

“No. He said we shouldn’t.”

“Shit.”

You texted Lando that night. After you and his friend realized you didn’t know what to do. That something was up, but Lando wasn’t sharing it with anyone. You told his friend you had never seen him like this, that he had never shut you out like this, so you didn’t know what to do. His friend, on the other hand, told you it wasn’t his first time experiencing it, although it had been so long ago he had even forgotten about it. He shared a few stories about Lando’s struggles, being careful not to expose him too much, but also trusting you needed to know. Because, according to him, Lando needed you right now, he was just too afraid to ask.

So, of course, you caved in and reached out.

Can we talk? , you texted. I’m worried.

But he didn’t reply.

He also didn’t answer your call.

And then, before you knew it, Lando was flying back to Miami. Adding oceans and thousands of miles to the already stablished distance between you. Sharing with strangers the excitement over the one-year anniversary of his first win. Posting pictures on Instagram as if things weren’t falling apart.

The following weekend, the aching feeling in your gut didn’t only get worse, but it lingered. It settled. Because by then, it was official. Lando had fully stopped talking to you. He had stopped calling. He had stopped texting good morning. He had stopped sending silly photos from the garage. He had simply stopped sharing the little updates he always used to. The ones that didn’t matter to anyone but you.

He also never texted after practice. Or after sprint qualifying. Or even after winning the sprint race.

Friday.

Saturday.

Sunday.

Nothing.

Not even once.

This time, you couldn’t watch the Grand Prix. So you didn’t. You got the news from social media, you heard it from his friends, from his family. People who apparently had no idea of what was happening to him.

Just like you.

Then again, you didn’t congratulate him for finishing second. You also didn’t have the strength to worry about him finishing second.

Because it wasn’t fair.

And because you really couldn’t understand.

Not anymore.

It hurt, and you still didn’t even know where it was coming from.

You didn’t see it coming.

Because things had changed after Bahrain, yes. But had they really changed that much? To the point of him going radio silent for two, three, four, five days? A week? To the point of him changing flights and not coming back home? To the point of him running away from you?

Was it really supposed to be like this?

Wondering when he would be coming back?

If he would come back?

Once again, you cried yourself to sleep.

You screamed at your pillow.

You stared at his social media way longer than you should’ve.

And then, you saw it.

The story on his sister’s close friends. A picture of him sitting on the floor with his niece, apparently hanging out at his brother’s house.

It was the last drop of water before emotions fully flooded inside you.

Before you finally understood you had to do something about it. You had to say something. You had to speak up. You had to be strong, determined, and firm. And you had to let him know you couldn’t do this anymore, because you truly couldn’t. Not like this.

And so, you texted him.

One last time.

One last try.

When you put your phone away, your brain and your heart battled against each other. Part of you wanted to run away and never look back, part of you wanted to wait to see what would happen next. You knew people would tell you to gather your things and get out of his place. You knew people would tell you he didn’t deserve a second chance. You knew people would tell you the mere idea of forgiving him was ridiculous.

But these people didn’t know him like you did. These people didn’t live the relationship like you did. They didn’t understand long commitment came with patience, and listening, and growing. They spoke with the mind, they told you what they read about, they shared what perfection was supposed to be like. But they didn’t stop to hear your side. Or any side. They didn’t stop to analyse the many times you had messed up. The many times Lando hadn’t judged. The many times Lando had been there for you. They didn’t stop to see it from your point-of-view. From your perspective. The perspective of someone who couldn’t let go of him just like that. Not without hearing him first. Not without trying to understand him first.

That is…

If he wanted to be understood.

If he wanted to be forgiven.

If he wanted to be heard.

And when you thought about it, you weren’t so sure he did.

Especially as time went by, and by.

And he didn’t text.

He didn’t call.

Even though he read.

Even though he knew.

Eventually, crying and wondering consumed you.

Wearing the same old McLaren hoodie of his, curled up on the couch, staring at the window. With a long-forgotten cup of tea sitting on the coffee table, a random TV show running non-stop on the opposite wall. Volume so low you couldn’t even make up their words.

You fell asleep.

Somehow, at some point.

And then, you heard it. The soft clicking of keys hitting the bowl by the door.

You jumped slightly and blinked a couple times, neck hurting from the awkward position you’ve been in. In the darkness of the living room, with nothing but the telly still on, you felt the tension in the air before you looked to your side and over your shoulder. Before you found him. Lando. Standing across from you, outlined by nothing but the restless flashes of whatever episode Netflix had made it through.

You froze, then. Felt the air get stuck in your lungs. Felt his own pain. His own fear. His own nervousness. Staring all right back at you.

“I got your texts,” he said. Or murmured. Voice low and tired.

You blinked, unwillingly ignoring his words as you took his presence in. Noticing how the flickering screen casted shadows that carved deep lines under his eyes, exaggerating the already intense amount of tiredness and sadness he didn’t even try to hide. Noticing how his curls looked messier than usual, how he hadn’t shaved, and how his hoodie and joggers looked all wrinkled, as if he had been wearing them for days.

 He didn’t look any better than you. If anything, he looked worse. Focusing on you with his hands stuffed in his pockets, holding himself back as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to be there in the first place.

“I thought…” he tried, he paused. He breathed in and out, he cleared his throat. “Was afraid I wouldn’t find you here anymore.”

You held your breath at that. Looked away from him, sat straight on the couch, rubbed your eyes. Then answered with the same energy as him. “You could’ve texted back. I would’ve told you.”

From the corner of your eyes, you caught the way he nodded. How he looked away just to take his hand off his pocket and place his phone and car keys next to the bowl. Next to where he had already placed his apartment keys. Like he always did.

“I fucked up,” he said.

Silence settled, and the distant laughter from the audience vibrated from the TV, filling the room.

You snorted, then. You shook your head. You placed your feet on the carpeted floor and stood up from the couch.

“You did way more than that,” you said.

Lando didn’t move, but he glanced at you. Watched you turn on your feet and meet the aching green of his eyes, then cross your arms across your chest and shrug.

“You ignored me. You pushed me out. You woke up one day and decided to lash out on me for whatever frustrations you were feeling on the track. You left me wondering what the hell I could’ve done to you. You made me cry night after night. You made me feel like shit. And for reasons that I have yet to understand.”

He blinked. Then looked down to your feet.

A beat of silence settled between you.

And then another one.

And another one.

“And I’ve been so worried, Lando. So fucking worried. Because I can see that something’s up with you. That you’re being weird because you are going through something. But then I’m just so… Confused. Because why are you punishing me, and only me? Why are you going to your friend’s, taking pictures with fans, smiling at everyone at the paddock, spending time with your family, but ignoring me? Honestly, why only me? What have I done? Why can’t I be the person you run to?”

“I’m… Fuck, I’m sorry.” With a sigh, he closed his eyes and placed the heels of his palms on top of them, growling with frustration. “You’re right, I know you are. I just, I didn’t want you to… Fuck.”

He breathed in, and out. Slowly, heavily. As if trying to calm himself down.

“Not again, not again,” he whispered, right before a light sob punched its way out of his throat. “Fuck.”

You flinched, taking in another chocking sound as he shook his head and failed to contain the tears in his eyes. His body shuddering as he finally exploded. Right in front of you.  

In all these months together, you had never seen him fall apart like this. You had seen him get emotional, you had seen cry from so much laughing, you had comforted his sad days. But you had never seen him like this. As if something had fully broken inside him. As if he genuinely felt past way and beyond repair.

Instincts touched your heart. They woke you up. They had you taking a step forward and dropping your arms to your sides, before freezing you on the spot again.

But then he took a step backward and hit his back against the door, dropping down to the floor while sobbing and gasping for air. And that was more than enough to push you forward. To have you sprinting across the living room and kneeling next to him.

“Lan…” you murmured, hands already reaching for him.

“Fuck,” he cried into his hands, shaking his head and pulling his knees to his chest as if he was trying to make himself disappear. “Fuck, f-fuck… Fu-ck…”

You fought his resistance and found the strength inside you to force him into you. To grab his shoulders and pull him firmly enough until he was falling against your chest and crying on you. With you.

“I… I can’t…”

“Shh…” you whispered, kissing the top of his head and then nuzzling your cheek onto his curls. “It’s okay… Just let it out… Just let it all out…”

He sobbed again, but didn’t fight it anymore. He let you hug his shoulders and hold him close to you, and in return you let him pour everything out. Both sitting on the floor, still under the flickering of the TV. Your back half-against the door, half-against the wall. Legs sprawled while he leaned into you. As awkwardly and as uncomfortably as you could possibly be.

The way he cried and gasped for air hit you with a knife in your chest. You remembered his friend’s words, how this wasn’t the first time it happened to him, how in the past it hadn’t been a one-time thing. And the thought of it scared you. It broke your heart. Imagining him going through this all by himself, in his hotel room. Away from home. Away from you.

Eventually, you lost track of time. You could feel the overall tension of your body. The scratchiness of your own throat after you’d stopped holding back your own tears. The heaviness of his body breathing against you. Then, there was silence. His shakiness slowly turned into weakness, his arms found its way around your waist, and his face nuzzled onto your neck. Gently. Carefully. So vulnerable and so shattered that part of you was afraid of what would come next. Of how he would react to it.

Until he sniffed. And you sniffed.

And then he kissed your shoulder, pressed his lips on top of your—his—hoodie, and pulled back. Sniffing a couple more times, sitting upright, trying to gather himself.

“Thank you,” he said, then cleared his throat. Voice raspy, husky.

You didn’t move from against the wall, just sat a little bit straighter and searched for his eyes. And for his hand. Linking your fingers with his and not letting him pull away. Not again.

“Of course,” you whispered, as if any startling noise could scare him away. “Are you okay? I mean… Not okay, but… Y’know… Okayish? Better than a minute ago?”

Lando’s mouth twitched, as if your words amused him.

“I am, yeah. Better than this whole week, actually.”

You nodded. Slowly. Knowing what the next question would be.

“Have this been happening a lot?”

Lando shrugged. He looked down at your linked hands, brushed his thumb on your knuckles, then rubbed the back of his other hand under his nose and sniffed again.

“Not a lot but… I guess so, yeah… I don’t know.”

“Lan… Babe… Why didn’t you—”

“Don’t.” He closed his eyes. “Please. I hate that you saw me like this. This wasn’t… I didn’t want you to see this.”

“Then what am I here for? Hm? If not to be there for you when you need it?”

You squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back, finally glancing back at you.

With red, puffy, exhausted eyes.

Eyes that searched all over your face.

Eyes that seemed to get softer and softer as they examined you.  

“God, you’re just so… Fuck,” he sighed. “I’m sorry. For everything. I didn’t want to push you away, I just… I didn’t know how to be around you when I’m like this… I didn’t know how to talk about it… I didn’t want it to happen in front of you… And I just… Fuck I don’t know. I made it all worse. Pushing you away made it even worse. I wanted to talk to you so many times… Wanted to get you on a plane and have you right next to me… And when you stopped texting and I realized what I was doing I panicked even worse… I couldn’t stop it anymore, and I didn’t know how to take it back, and I just… Fuck I don’t know, I don’t know. But I’m sorry babe, I’m really sorry.”

You swallowed the new lump in your throat and nodded, blinking away a few tears, then wiping away the one that found a way to fall down your cheek.

“I know,” you said. “I really wish you had told me, tho. I would’ve jumped on that plane in a heartbeat, and I wouldn’t have judged you. Just like I’m not judging you now.”

Lando nodded, looked down at your still connected hands, shuffled on the carpeted floor. “I wasn’t afraid of how you’d react,” he said. “I know you wouldn’t judge me. I was just… Embarrassed, I guess. I don’t… God this is so hard. I hate that I’m failing like this. And I hate that it’s everywhere. I hate that I fucked things with you, I hate that I let you down. I hate that I’m letting everyone down. I hate that I haven’t been driving like I know I can. I hate that—”

“Hey.” You squeezed his hand and leaned forward, closer to him, noticing the way he was working himself up again. “You didn’t let me down.”

“C’mon.” He scoffed, but still glanced at you. “Of course I did. You were right before, about everything you said. How I treated you the last few weeks.”

“I mean, yeah…” You moved closer, your thighs pressing against his as you sat right by his side. Facing him. “I don’t agree with the way you handled things so far, but you didn’t let me down, Lan. I was just… Worried. Because I could tell you weren’t doing okay, and I wanted to be there for you. That’s all.”

He dropped his shoulders, as if leaning into you, too.

“I wished you were there, too,” he whispered, as if sharing a secret that was only for you to hear. “So many times.”

“Well, I’m here now.” You placed your hand on the back of his neck, the one that wasn’t still attached to his fingers, and watched him close his eyes at your touch. Your mouth curled up. “And I’m not going anywhere. Unless you kick me out, of course.”

He sighed, and even if his eyes were still closed, his lips twitched up. Just like yours. “I could never.”

“Good.”

A moment went by. A moment in which you just sat there on the floor, with the TV flickering around you as you scratched the back of his neck and watched him relax under your touch.

“Should we go to bed now?” you asked. “Put things on pause for a bit, get some sleep, and wait until tomorrow to talk about what’s been going on?”

“Fuck, yes.” He dropped his head back with a sigh, as if that was the best idea he’d ever heard. “Please. I haven’t slept properly for so long.”

You smiled and dropped your hand from his neck. “That’s because I wasn’t in bed with you.”

“Oh, I have no doubts of that.” He chuckled and stood up from the floor, then helped you out to do the same. “You actually have no idea how badly I want to hold you right now.”

“I think I do, actually.”

Standing across from each other, you and Lando shared a look, a knowing one. And then you tilted your head towards the bedroom, murmured a c’mon, and moved around him to turn off the TV. Sticking to your words and putting everything on pause. Cursing and chuckling when you realized it was suddenly too dark to see where you were going, then thanking him when he walked ahead and turned on the lights down the hallway.

It felt easy, to find your way back to him. It felt natural. The routine. The little details. As if despite everything, nothing had changed. Not really. You still walked into the bathroom together, then brushed your teeth with the door open. Then, when you walked to the closet and changed into a clean, old t-shirt, Lando stayed behind for a quick shower. Like he always did after a flight. You got into bed first, scrolled down your phone just for a bit, then snuggled under the covers. Facing the wall, the windows, like you always did. Allowing the streetlights and the brightness from the bathroom to be the only things illuminating the room.

A few minutes later, you heard the water from the shower slow down to an end. You heard him move around. You heard him turn off the lights, then step outside and drag his feet to bed. Finally joining you in. Wearing nothing but boxer briefs, smelling like soap, deodorant and shampoo. Wriggling his body closer to yours.

“Fuck this feels good,” he murmured. Breathed out. As if all the tension had finally, finally, left his body.

You smiled. Absorbed the darkness of the night. Felt his hand land timidly on your waist while the warmth from his body made its way to yours.

“Um… It this… I mean…” He cleared his throat. “Can I?”

You frowned at the windows. “Can you what?”

“Y’know…” he trailed off, then tapped his fingers on your side.

“Seriously? Are you asking permission to touch me?”

“I mean, yeah…” He chuckled, a little bit shy. “I’m trying to be respectful. After what happened, I just… I don’t know. Don’t want to assume.”

You rolled your eyes, but let your lips curve into a smile anyway. And then you grabbed his hand and pulled it forward, bringing his arm around you as you kissed his fingers and then pressed them against your chest.

“Don’t you dare stop touching me.”

He sighed, loudly, another chuckle of relief shaking off his chest. Pressing his chest to your back and sneaking his other arm under your neck. Fully spooning you. Tangling legs with you. Kissing the back of your shoulder once, and then twice.

You closed your eyes, but you could tell how much was still happening inside him. How many conflicted emotions were still battling for attention. How much apprehension kept holding back his actions. And you knew you couldn’t change that in one night. You knew half-conversation wouldn’t suddenly fix whatever had cracked between you in the last fifteen days.  But you also knew you were ready to stay anyway. You were ready to listen. You were ready to understand. Or at least try. Because that’s what you always did. Because that’s the kind of person you were.

And then Lando sighed. Just barely. Half-held in his throat. His knee brushed the back of yours. Then pulled away, then touched again. His fingertips moved around your hand, his arm against your chest loosened, then tightened, then stilled again. His other arm, under your neck, twitched. You kept your eyes shut, pretending you weren’t noticing, but keeping track of his tiny movements. How his nose brushed your hair once, then again, like he was turning his face. Finding a spot. How his breath tiredly hit the back of your neck, how his foot tickled yours.

And that’s when you finally whispered, “You’re tossing.”

“Sorry.”

Silence.

Except for his breathing, never settling into a slow rhythm. Never slowing down.

You blinked your eyes open and rolled over, shuffling on the mattress until you were lying face to face and both of your hands were resting on his chest.

He adjusted instantly, eyes meeting yours in the darkness, hand now on your back and sneaking underneath your t-shirt.

“What’s going on?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he murmured, his breath hitting your chin.

You leaned in just enough to press your forehead against his. Voice lowering to a delicate whisper when you spoke again. “Liar. What’s on your mind? Tell me.”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Oh, I do. I definitely do.”

He smiled. Tip of his nose gently brushing yours.

“I missed you,” he said.

And that got a smile out of you, too.

“I missed you too. But am I supposed to believe that’s what’s keeping you awake?”

“I mean…” Lando chuckled, then shrugged.

Through blurry sight, you watched his eyes shift the attention to your mouth, then the way he parted his lips and slid his tongue between them, getting them wet. Those puffy, sweet, tender lips you had missed so much.

Your belly fluttered. Your heartbeat expanded all through your chest.

Taking a deep breath, you moved one hand to his neck, spreading your fingers open until your thumb was running across his mouth.

Lando closed his eyes and pursed his lips, laying one gentle kiss. And then another one. As if he was getting your fingerprint.

You knew where you were getting to. You knew what your next move would be. And yet you didn’t rush it. It was only when Lando pressed his hand on your back and pulled you the tiniest bit closer that you finally caved in. That you moved your hand to his cheek and finally kissed him.

It wasn’t hurried. Not at first, at least. Not while you both curled around each other with tenderness and carefulness. Him enveloping your bottom lip, while you took care of his upper one. And then switching so you could both get a taste of all of it.

Lando sighed, as if the last piece of the puzzle had been placed, and you felt yourself smiling at him. So you pulled away, just enough to take a breath and drag your tongue on your own lips, as if savouring him. Or maybe just getting you wet and ready for more. And that seemed to be enough to shift something inside him, because he launched himself forward and covered your mouth with hunger. Taking control over the kiss and demanding a more urgent pace.

It was your turn to sigh. Hand moving to the back of his head and leg hopping around his hips. Mouth parting wider to let his tongue slip in and search for yours.

Lando pushed you onto your back, pressing half of his body on top of yours while one arm remained under your neck and the other wandered down your side.

“Bloody fuck I missed you,” he murmured, kissing you deeper. Louder.

You whined just softly enough for him to hear you, both arms wrapping around his neck, then both hands threading through his still wet hair.

Lando pulled back, then. Panting. Moving his lips down to your jaw, then to your neck. Palm digging onto your flesh as he moved to your belly, then up your chest.

“I love you,” he said. “So much.”

You closed your eyes to the ceiling and smiled, fingers still brushing and still stroking the back of his head.

When he moved back to your face, he pecked your mouth one, two, three times. Then rested his forehead on yours, catching his breath.

“Yep. Now I’m good to sleep,” he murmured.

And at that, you cackled. Genuine laughter floating up your chest and getting through your mouth louder than you intended it to be.

“You’re such an idiot,” you laughed.

And he smiled. Watched you with nothing but fondness and admiration in the green of his eyes.

“I am, yeah.” He moved his hand back to your waist, gave it a light squeeze, and quickly pecked your lips. “And I’m sorry. For everything. I don’t want to lose you. You make everything better. You make me better. And I just... God, I really fucking love you.”

That softened the smile on your face. Teasing and playfulness fading into seriousness and attention.

 “I thought I’d stay at my brother’s until I had... Things…Under control... But then I...” He closed his eyes, shook his head. “I was so bloody stupid for thinking I’d be able to get through this without by my side. Without letting you know what was going on. Because then I’d spiral even more… When I couldn’t call you… When I couldn’t talk to you… And then I read your texts... And you asked if I was trying to break up with you...”

He laughed, but there was no humour in it.  

“Never panicked more.”

You pressed your lips together. Let a sigh out of your nose and tilted your head.

“I would apologize for it, but… If that’s what it took for you to come back to me, then I’m not sorry for anything I said.”

He nodded, rolled back on his side and pulled you along with him.

“I know. You shouldn’t be. No matter what I was going through, it wasn’t fair to you.”

“Glad we agree on that.”

Lando smiled, and you smiled, too.

“We do have to talk about what happened,” you added, “but you’re not losing me. You just gotta let me in. Believe me when I say I love you too, every side of you. Even the chaotic, anxious one.”

“Even the loser one?”

“You’re not a loser.”

“Still...” He pulled back an inch and swallowed, searching for your eyes in the comfort of your own dark room. “Will you love me, even if I lose?”

“Babe, I’ll love you even if you decide to leave Formula 1 and run a farm in the mountains.”

Lando smiled. And then he chuckled.

“Yeah, I’m not doing that,” he said, leaning back in and encouraging you to roll over until you were facing the windows once again. “Not now, at least.”

He spooned you from behind, just like he always did.

And then he spoke again, just a quiet murmur by your ear.

“Maybe in the future… When we have kids.”

“Kids?” you gasped with amusement, your voice an octave louder than before.

“Yeah. Kids. Family. The whole thing.”

“You’re thinking about having kids?!”

“Not right now, but... Yeah. In the future. Is that ok?”

You bit your lip, staring through the window as you pictured Lando as a dad. As your husband. As your forever partner in life.

And then, you nodded.

“It is, yeah,” you whispered. “In the paddock… In the mountains… Wherever you want. I’d love to grow old with you.”

He hummed and snuggled into you. And you closed your eyes, relief and happiness finding its way back to you. Like it always did when you were next to him.

“Good night, babe,” he said. “I love you.”

Exhaustion, warmth and comfort pulled you into unconsciousness, but not before you could whisper one more time, “I love you, Lan.”

──────────────────

[digital-dumbass]

Got new pencils and pens and wanted to test them out!! ^_^

[ufstudios77]

Baseball Dad T-Shirt – Strike or Ball? Ask Me!

For the dad who always has an opinion on every pitch ⚾ This “Baseball Dad – Professional Line Judge” tee is a hilarious tribute to the fathers who call it like they see it — from the bleachers, the bench, or behind the grill. With a retro-styled baseball and sunset background, it’s perfect for Little League dads, sports fans, and the family’s self-proclaimed umpire.

🎁 A great gift for Father’s Day, tournaments, or just because he’s always calling the plays.

[ratherchili]

𖹭 cw: suggestive, edgy, mdni

part one | two | three | four | five ‹soon›

You are in the kitchen fussing over a curry when your big brother's friend sukuna returns the very next day. Alone. Toji had the decency to warn you, so when sukuna sneaks up behind you, you manage not to jump out of your skin. You do however, shoot a glare at him over your shoulder when he powers off your Bluetooth speaker and gives your ponytail a hard tug. "Hey brat," he says, sniffing over your shoulder. "Miss me?"

"Smells good," he says, when you don't dignify his question with a response.

"It's not for you," you huff.

"Not talking about that slop," he says, close enough that you feel his breath against your neck.

"Back off," you round on him, brandishing your curry-stained spoon.

"Scary," he says, before he leans in and licks the utensil with the broad flat of his tattooed tongue, much to your dismay and his subsequent amusement.

You groan as you turn away to rinse the spoon in the sink. Why Toji thought it would be a good idea for his overgrown lackey to stay here until his return, you just can't understand. Doesn't help that he refuses to explain it to you. "Just tell me if he leaves," he had rasped at you before abruptly hanging up. You question what gods you have angered to put you in this situation as you watch the suds circle the drain.

"Toji says you have to stay so-"

"I don't give a fuck what Toji says," he interjects.

"So you're leaving?" You ask hopefully as you dry your hands.

"No."

"Then we should set some ground rul-" you trail off as you turn to see him tugging his shirt off over his head with his lower pair of arms. His chest and abdomen are tattooed in a similar linear pattern as his jaw line, you notice. Bold black marks like nature might bestow on some highly poisonous insect as a warning. Fitting for him, then.

"You were saying?" He prompts with a smirk as you realize you are staring instead of speaking.

"Can't you do that somewhere else?" You snap, rapidly losing what little patience you had to begin with.

"Do what?" He asks, as if he doesn't know. He crosses both sets of his stupidly muscular arms over his stupidly muscular chest, making every striation and vein stand out. On purpose. He does it on purpose. Why does he have to look like that? It's so annoying. You hate him. Hate him.

To your horror, you feel heat creeping up your neck all the way to the tops of your ears. The flush must be visible, judging by the amused expression on his face, which makes you even angrier.

"I don't know," you begin, gesturing wildly at him, "Exist? Could you just go exist somewhere fucking else?" You realize distantly that you are shouting. He is smiling and inching closer. "And if that's too much trouble, maybe you could - I don't know - do the world a favor and fucking kill yourself, huh? How about that?"

You continue on screaming at him, expelling at top volume and long last, your extensive list of grievances. You don't even realize that you have been backing away from him until your ass connects with the counter. By then, it is too late because his upper hands are cupping your chin, squishing your cheeks so that your words come out slurred just before he silences you completely with his mouth. You can taste the curry as your lips part for his tongue, out of pure shock, of course.

Your lips remain parted even after he breaks the kiss, panting as he grins at you. Before you can collect your scattered thoughts, movement drags your eyes down his abdomen, which, to your horror, splits open just below his navel. At first, you think he's injured, but when a large, wet tongue lolls out of the opening, you realize that it is just another anatomical anomaly. Stomach mouth. Why not? You scream all the way to your bedroom. His laughter echoes after you even after you've slammed the door shut.

A vague desire to not burn your brother's house down - at least not with yourself still in it - finally pulls you from your hiding place. The monster is nowhere in sight and, it would seem, he turned off the stovetop for you. The curry is salvageable, although a bit of the sauce is burned to the bottom of the pan. Your pride, on the other hand, well, that remains to be seen.

part one | two | three | four | five ‹soon›

taglist ‹ age in your bio to be added ›

@orikixx ; @scorpiosugar ; @just-lilita ; @shesabeeler ; @maybe-a-bi-witch ; @cairo-morningstar ; @rawwrrgal ; @sukubusss ; @raedollsstuff ; @expiredbred ; @ieathairs ; @frieddelusionparadise ; @hishearttohave ; @vellichor01 ; @mimiluvzu2 ; @lem-hhn ; @msrr-ws ; @paradisestarfishh ; @yuj111tadori ; @iminlovewqr0w ; @linaaeatsfamilies ; @samisfunky ; @noyaskneepad ; @shxyxyxxxx ; @00frenchfries00 ; @chubbyblckgirl ; @mysticranger575 ; @waterfal-ling ; @chiizuyu ; @contaminatedcupcake ; @littlesnoopy ; @dizzydotjpeg ; @sugufushi ; @missbunnybunny ; @go-go-gadget-autism ; @grapelover2000 ; @mmeerraa ; @tsukikoxo ; @slqttttt ; @akumazwrld ; @christiannugget ; @zlimeyzenin

[yzzart]

｡𖦹°‧ DANTE SEEING THE SCRATCHES ON HIS BACK.

୭˚. ᵎᵎ content warnings: mention of unprotected sex, blood, sexual content.

⭑.ᐟ The word “responsible” did not fit into Dante’s vocabulary, it was something that would take time for the boy to understand; perhaps, according to future events. — Eventually, “trustworthy” was better; at least, he agreed.

⤷ Dante was reliable in completing his assigned works, occupations; always maintaining a high standard of excellence, never failing to commit or doing anything half-heartedly. — Enzo was a witness, and he idolized the hunter's completed works. — So, this meant that Dante couldn't pretend there wasn't dirty work to be done.

⤷ Meaning, again, that the demon hunter couldn't stay by your side, clinging to your neck, kissing and biting you and inhaling your delicious scent — or inside you — forever. — He hated it.

⭑.ᐟ By the gods that could exist, — holy shit, Dante thought — to admire, to contemplate, you in the old bed of that old-fashioned and worn-out room, sleeping, peacefully, between, at least, clean sheets — that were brought by you for your boyfriend — so beautiful and apollonian was an image of the paradise that they say exists.

⤷ Through the transparent, white fabric of the sheet, some curves of your body were witnessed by the eldest's youthful eyes; if he had the chance, he would live only to adore you. — Being led to a memory of last night; his forehead pressed against yours as he tried to utter some coherent word, and failed terribly, the irregular breaths, sensual and so libidinous sighs. — Just remembering, he felt weak, vulnerable, and making his cock throb.

⭑.ᐟ You were insatiably, relentlessly. — Driving that poor man crazy and disorienting was ridiculous, delightful, and such an aphrodisiac. — Dante had to crawl back, coerced, to his next job that Enzo had sent him; did he really need it?

⤷ Stepping on the aged, and also filthy, wood, causing a terrifying and agonizing noise, worried if you were still asleep, Dante only saw you turn your back, remaining asleep. — Now, a piece of your bare back, and the curves of your ass, perceived by the emerald eyes.

⭑.ᐟ Where had you thrown his shirt? — Dante searched, unhurriedly and with little interest or convenience, for the gray piece of clothing, which you had removed and left somewhere inconspicuous. — The demon hunter, during his search, passed by the piece of broken mirror stuck in the wall structure; it didn't hurt to pay attention to his appearance before anything else, right?

⤷ Dante's charming, lazy, and bold frown was always there, just like an incontinent and unruly mess in his white hair; nothing that could bother him. — The piece of reflective glass didn't show his entire image, so his attention was fixed on the attention on his neck with small bite marks and hickeys made by you.

⤷ On Dante's lips, a smug smile, so debauched, curved; of course he could just walk out with those traces of pleasure on the street. — Upon learning to use his regeneration suit, the cursed man would love to show it off. — You were trying to mark your territory, what a beautiful thing; well, he couldn't judge, since he performed the same action. — Displaying the visible muscles, Dante turned his body frame to see his back. — Holy shit.

⭑.ᐟ Marks, scratches from nails, had a deep presence on your boyfriend's back; thin, thick, some incomplete, but they were there. —The reddish lines, some showing thin trails of blood, against his skin were something divine. — Evidence of the pure pleasure, excitement, desire that had risen in your chest the night before; sensations that only Dante could give you, and would be the only and last one to do so. — Oh, he remembered.

⤷ Your moans, — which sounded identical to meows, melodic whimpers — were melody, harmony that Dante learned to be obsessed with. — While he was, perfectly, with his balls inside you, feeling more and more, and making him crazy with desire, your beautiful and so delicious pussy squeezing his cock, Dante knew, from the first day he looked at you, that you would be the death of him. — And he never had so much pleasure at the end of his life.

⤷ Dante was a drunk, fucked up, and needy — and also miserable — for you, for your pussy; don't blame that poor guy. — The wet, dirty, dirty noise caused by the fast thrusts was too much for you; like the stretching, which never got used to, delicious in you. — Or when you stuttered, begged, with so much affection, allowing, and sweetness for Dante to cum inside. — Dante would never deny anything to his beautiful girl.

⤷ For mercy's sake, Dante felt his dick swell, ache with excitement and throb even more as he looked at the marks.

⭑.ᐟ Now, his canines stood out in his proud smile, pure lust — experiencing an electricity of debauchery, taking on an almost feral sensation — in front of the broken mirror. — Dante did not need his regeneration with that gift.

⭑.ᐟ The beautiful kitten showed her claws, wanting to signal a territorial marking that would only be seen if Dante wanted it to be; in other cases, leaving a reminder so specific to him. — Only him.

[starsforxavi]

at home fashion show

·······•✦ description: Sylus finds your online shopping cart of costume ideas for Tara's Halloween party, what else was he supposed to do except buy it all and have you come over for a fashion show? He had to help you pick your costume out...

·······•✦ pairing: virgin!sylus x afab!reader ·······•✦ word count: 8.6k ·······•✦ genre: smut, porn with plot, fluff ·······•✦ general tags: First Time, Halloween Costumes, Cunnilingus, Pussy Eating, Fashion Show, Inexperienced/Virgin Sylus, Breast Play, Guidance Reader-Insert, No use of Y/N, Oral Sex, Vanilla Sex, Penis in Vagina Sex, Vaginal Sex, Romantic, Soft Smut, Use of the nickname 'kitten', Creampie, Multiple Orgasms, Loss of Virginity, Extablished Relationship

·······•✦ posted on: ao3

A fire burned in the hearth, warmth radiating from the middle of the common room. It spread to nearly every corner of the large house, the flicker of flames creating a glow across the dark leather couch Sylus found himself sitting on. Comfortable sweatpants hung on his hips, a plain black shirt stretching across his shoulders as he sat back, eyes fixated on the door to his room.

He was patient. The things he had gotten in life were born from patience. These deals took weeks or sometimes months to complete, and his journey to even get to the position he was in now took a lot of waiting. He could wait a bit more.

Except this was different; he knew what was on the other side of the door, his fingers tapping against the back of the couch as he thought about it. He scrolled through your costume ideas and the online cart you had built from the local Linkon store. All it took was one click before they were delivered to your house, and Sylus called you as soon as he got the notification that it was received.

“So, what do you think?” All you could do was chuckle in surprise, not knowing how to take in the giant box that had arrived. His mind whirled as he listened to the silence on the other end, wishing he could catch a glimpse of your expression. Seeing the label on the box, you shook your head before realizing he couldn’t see you. “Did you buy the whole store?” “Hm…” He feigned innocence as he smiled at his phone. “I just came across everything you had in your cart and decided you could come over and show me your ideas for your costume. Try everything on, if that’s okay with you, sweetie?”

There he was, his head spinning as he recalled a few costumes that had caught his eye. Even the previews of the models online wouldn’t come close to seeing it on your body. His leg began to bounce slightly, and his patience started to dwindle just a bit. Anticipation bubbled in his throat as the door opened enough for you to poke your head out.

Your eyes trailed over his position, legs slightly spread as if inviting you to sit down. His chest and torso filled his shirt perfectly as he leaned back against the couch. The black leather reflected the orange and yellow hue of the fire. Biting your lip, you smiled at the man before you, your hand playing with the hem of your shorts behind the door.

“You know Tara sent me some of these ideas, right? I wasn’t actually serious about wearing some of them.” Laughing, you recalled your endless conversations with your friend about what you should wear to her Halloween party. She even took it upon herself to send you links and add things to your cart herself.

“Well, we can be the judge of that ourselves.” Sylus countered, his eyebrow raised slightly as he beckoned you from behind your hiding spot. “Come out and let me see, kitten.”

His eyes desperately tried to stay focused on your face, your nose scrunched and lips pressed in a tight line as you walked out. The shorts could barely even be called shorts, the bottoms coming to just below your ass. In your eyes, they may as well be called underwear. The shirt wasn’t much better, the bottom stopping at your belt, meaning that any little movement of your arms upwards would show a flash of your stomach. Not to mention how tight it hugged your torso, any slight movement threatening to pop the buttons at the top that covered your cleavage.

“This is a very inaccurate representation of our Hunter uniforms.” Pulling at the bottom of your shorts, you switch from one foot to the other. The boots that came with the costume came up to just below your knee, and if it weren’t part of this wildly scandalous outfit, they were something you would probably have in your closet. The heel on the back boosted you up a few inches, and the feeling of looking down at your boyfriend brought a rush of excitement through you.

Sylus hummed again, tilting his head as his eyes drifted down your outfit. Typically, he would admire your beauty when you weren’t looking, letting his thoughts wander to dark places in the confines of his own home. However, as soon as you caught his gaze, he would retreat, a hint of apprehension behind his smile.

“It is quite inaccurate.” He commented, the corner of his lip turned up as he let his hands fall to his lap. “I think you look stunning as usual, but I’m sure many others will wear this costume. We wouldn’t want everyone else to see how inferior they are to your beauty, sweetie.”

His deep voice rumbled as he spoke, his chest tightening as he imagined what you could do to him in that outfit. Thoughts that didn’t sprout until late at night when he was alone and in need of you floated to the forefront of his mind. He did not indulge in those acts; his mind was always wandering elsewhere. That was until you two began dating.

Your face flushed as you looked around, avoiding his gaze that finally settled back on your expression. The outfit's fabric brushed against your inner thighs, and imagining a long night of it rubbing against your skin made you cringe.

“It’s also a bit uncomfortable. I couldn’t endure a few hours with these seams rubbing me raw. Plus I know of some sleezy coworkers that wouldn’t be able to keep their eyes off me.” Your hands smoothed down the inside of the shorts, palms surprisingly sweaty. Shrugging, you turned around to the door, looking back at Sylus and seeing his eyes immediately falling to your ass. “I’m going to try the next outfit on.”

Sylus was speechless as he watched you walk back into his room, the door shutting softly behind you. His leg twitched as the image of your hips and ass, hugged perfectly by the extremely tiny shorts, came back into his view. The comment about your coworkers didn’t bother him, he knew you were strong and could handle yourself. Besides, it wasn’t the smartest idea for him to accompany you to the party, that would only stir up more trouble.

It hadn’t been long since you started dating - about a month - your trips to the N109 zone becoming more frequent as your relationship progressed. Hell, just last weekend was the first time you slept in the same bed. It was a slow progression due to how little you saw each other sometimes.

It also had little to do with the fact that Sylus had never grown accustomed to intimacy in general. Though he seemed extremely confident and put together when it came to you, inside, he was afraid. With each touch he placed on your body, the relationship you formed became even more real. Fear etched into his entire being since he finally had someone to protect.

His safety wasn’t ever a critical thing to him. Dangerous situations seemed drawn to him and sought him out specifically. And he was used to it, used to the monotony of battle after battle and eventually a successful deal going through.

But now, his head threatened to beat out of his chest if he ever dared to think about anything happening to you. His precious angel that had come into his life unconventionally. He was determined to keep you safe, and he became more afraid with each milestone you hit together as a couple.

The thoughts that fluttered through his mind stopped as he heard the door opening, his jaw nearly dropping as he took in the sight before him. Your toes wiggled in the new boots, the size a bit too small, as you struggled to shuffle your feet forward. Each step strangled your smallest toe, and you flinched.

“You alright, sweetie? Are you uncomfortable?” He tensed his forehead, his attention stripped from your sleek black dress to land on your feet. Your ankles flexed, and before you could reach down to try to relieve the pain, Sylus was already kneeling in front of you. “Hold onto my shoulder.”

Doing as you were asked, your hand steadied yourself on his shoulder, fingers digging into his muscle as you struggled to balance on one foot. Sylus’ fingers gently undid the buckles of your small black boots, sliding them off your foot. The feeling of your hand on his shoulder clouded his mind, hands working on their own accord to help rid you of the pain.

“Thank you.” Even after removing your boots, Sylus stayed on the ground, looking up at you through his lashes. Unsure of what to do with his hands, they sat on his thighs, fingers painfully still. The fabric of his sweatpants only soaked up the sweat that began to form.

“Of course, sweetie.” His confident aura edged back into his expression, his eyes moving from your feet to your face again. “You’re even more beautiful from down here.”

Rolling your eyes, you step back, your hands pulling the dress slightly lower. It was a simple outfit, a tight black dress that resembled a stereotypical witch hung over your frame. The sleeves flared out at your wrists, and a broomstick waited back in his room to be dragged around for hours.

“Oh, stop it.” Laughing, you do a small twirl, hands folding across your chest as you think about the fashion choice momentarily. “I would like this costume if it had something else; it feels like I’m missing something.”

Sylus stayed silent, standing up from his position on the floor to sit back in his previous spot. His head tilts once more as he takes in your appearance. With a shrug, he thinks about his words carefully. “It looks good, but I’m sure there are others that would fit you even better.”

You returned to his room with an appreciative nod, where another costume awaited you. The fashion show started just like all the previous times you visited him, with a few small kisses and an invitation to a meal before you began sorting and laying out all the costumes. Your nerves stood on edge as you thought about each outfit. Excitement and wonder if something will happen with Sylus that night spread through you. Surely, he would get turned on over something and make a move. If not, you would have to take matters into your own hands.

Okay, your thoughts raced as you slipped on the next outfit, the hat accompanying it and really tying the whole look together. Another set of boots stared at you from the floor, yet you slipped them on, a sigh of relief falling from your lips when they actually fit pretty well.

“Alright, I really like this one.” Your voice traveled from behind the door, and Sylus could hear the smile that crossed your lips.

“Then let me see, sweetie.” Tingles spread across your skin as he speaks, his patience running even tinner as the seconds tick by. He needs to see you in one way or another - or perhaps in every imaginable way.

When you entered the common room, his breath nearly left his body. Words couldn’t form no matter how hard he tried, his tongue sinking in his mouth, never to return. The hands that once sat on the back of the couch moved to his lap, muscles contracting as he clinched his fingers. His composure was dwindling, and his reaction to the costume threatened to become very obvious.

“So?” You stuffed your hands in the jeans pockets, suddenly shy under his piercing gaze. Once upon a time, that gaze was full of a villainous rage you didn’t think you could control. The journey to the N109 zone for the first time - a critical mission given to you by the Academy - flipped your life upside down. Your pull towards Sylus surprised you, yet you let yourself fall for him just as he found himself falling for you.

Laughter echoed through the empty house, your hands moving to hold your exposed stomach as you bent over slightly. The flannel shirt tied tight in the back gave some resistance as you bent over.

“Sylus? You okay?” You began to walk closer, and a smirk stretched across his lips as he nodded, something happening to his inner monologue that was unknown to you.

“I’m wonderful, kitten.” He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he let his gaze move across your body. A deep, unsatiated need grew in him each time you walked out of his room. The room that he sleeps in and feels the most comfortable in, you stand there, naked and vulnerable. “I think we found your costume.”

With an excited nod, you gesture down to the outfit, hands flattening the jeans so they lay flat on your skin. It felt nice, and the fabric was smooth and plush. It was just the right amount of sexy, but you would be comfortable spending a few hours in it at the party. You twirled around for him, showing him the bedazzled back pockets and fake spurs on the back of your cowboy boots.

“I think so, too!” You couldn’t help how your voice raised slightly, feeling hotter under his gaze. Silence fell between you for a moment, your eyes connecting. Eye contact was significant for Sylus, his red irises piercing your soul. At first, it was intimidating when you encountered the feared leader. However, the eyes that looked at you recently became just a bit softer. He was still the feared leader, a man who has done and will continue to do morally grey to borderline evil things, but he would do whatever it takes to keep you by his side.

“Isn’t there one more costume?” His mind drifted back to the list, remembering the total amount he had paid and the number on the little shopping cart in the corner. One more… What was it? He tried to recall, but the way you flaunted the current outfit, he was lucky to remember his name.

“Oh, yeah!” The outfit sat on his bed, laid out and waiting for you to try it on. In truth, you had already decided on your outfit, but the idea of the last outfit. It was perfect ammunition to push Sylus’ buttons. “I’ll be right back.”

Sylus began humming a tune you couldn’t recognize as you changed into the last outfit. The tight spandex leggings and even tighter long-sleeve shirt hug your body even more than the previous three costumes. Every movement had the fabric rubbing against your skin, the seams being the most insufferable part. They scratched and poked at your inner thighs and collarbone, the sensations feeling like ants crawling on your skin.

However, all those feelings flew out the window when you stepped out in front of your boyfriend. This time, his eyes flew straight to the sleek leather boots that adorned your feet, his eyebrows raised and a smirk curling at his lips. Slowly, he dragged his gaze up your body, and the fire in the hearth burned brighter. Heat licked up your ankles and shot straight to your core, your need growing with each second he admired your costume.

“What do you think?” Your voice came out as a whisper, and if it weren’t just the two of you, he probably wouldn’t have heard it. The headband threatened to fall as you looked down, turning to the side slightly to show him the fluffy tail that connected to the leggings. “I even have a tail.”

Something akin to a growl and hum vibrated through his chest, his body flexing as his cock reacted instinctively. He had already felt blood descending, but with that outfit. The ears that sat perfectly atop your head and the tail that just begged to be tugged, he needed a moment to compose himself before he spoke.

“I think…” A soft pause filled the air, tension stretching like a rubber band between you. The distance was too much, the heat too much. Sylus had to sit back against the couch again, and his excitement was finally visible to you. “I think your nickname fits you perfectly, kitten.” The word falls from his tongue, almost like a purr.

“You think so? Want a closer look?” Your invitation hung in the air briefly before Sylus’ hand was extended. Words weren’t needed, his desperation palpable and patience at the end of its rope.

“Of course I want a closer look at my kitten.” The moment your hand met his, he tugged you into his lap. Your ass sat gently on his thighs, not wanting to overstep any boundaries even though he was very clearly aroused. He flexed his muscles underneath you, hands sitting gently on your hips. It was as if you were glass, not wanting to press too hard, fearing you would shatter.

As you settled into his grasp, your hands fell flat onto your thighs. The urge to touch him, card your fingers through his hair, drag your lips from his collarbone to just below his ear. It was overwhelming, the gravitational pull he had towards you.

Sylus roamed his eyes over your body, the stretch of the fabric over your plush skin drifting up to the black choker and tiny bell that adorned the front. Up to the black cat ears on top of your head. The physical manifestations of his nickname for you, all coming to the surface and showing him what a beautiful kitten you make, all shot straight to his cock.

“Wow.” The man below you breathed out, his thumbs pressing and massaging your hip bones. The smile on his lips was genuine, a smile that was born out of his true feelings for you. It wasn’t often that a smile like that lit up his face; his smiles usually came at the expense of one of his enemies or when a deal finally went through. You brought out a light in him that he wasn’t sure existed until he met you.

“Like it?” You gauged his reaction. Even though you already knew the answer, you pressed him, liking when he spoke his feelings out loud. “I think it looks good, but it’s so tight.”

There it is. His thoughts raced as he gathered his emotions in one bouquet, ready to extend it to you. This was his chance.

“Do you want to take it off?” His usually confident tone held a hesitation in it, the question leaving space for you to back off. If it was something you didn’t want, all you had to do was say so, and Sylus was fine. His inexperience caused his stomach to flip, wanting you to say yes and no simultaneously. Of course, he wanted to see every inch of skin you had tucked away, perusing every blemish and mark like you were a work of art. His work of art. Except he wasn’t so confident in what came after.

“Are you sure?” Your hands played with the hem of your shirt, eyes searching his for apprehension just as his gaze did to you. Both of you were locked in a battle; who would pull away first? Would one of you pull away first?

Nodding his head, his right hand trailed up your body, fingertips pulling your shirt away from your body and letting it fall back in place. “There’s nothing I would want more, kitten.”

With confirmation, your fingers pulled harder, the fabric clinging to your body as you wrestled with the long sleeves. A giggle fell from your lips when you finally threw the shirt to the side. The noise was short-lived, though, Sylus’ grip flexing as he took in your breasts. Still covered by your bra, he fought the urge to grab a knife from underneath the cushion to cut the strap, patience flying out the window. He needed to see you, all of you.

Sylus guided his hands up your body, cupping your breasts over your bra. His thumbs brushed against your clothed nipples, hardening them and causing them to show through the fabric. Thoughts jumbled together as his need clouded his judgment. He wanted to do everything, anything but wasn’t sure where to start.

His breath came out labored as he looked up at you, pupils dilated as all sense of pride flew out the window. Vulnerability crossed his features for just a moment before he leaned forward, lips pressing against yours.

The kisses started gentle, and pecks turned into him tilting his head, which led to his tongue poking your bottom lip. When you invited him in, a sigh left his mouth, his lips slotting perfectly against yours. Tongues explored each others’ mouths, and sure, you had made out with Sylus before… But this was different. You could sense the desperation behind his touch, his kisses becoming manic and rushed as his hand massaged your breast.

Your own need flooded your senses, your hips inching up his thighs until you could feel your core against his throbbing cock. Heat radiated off him, one of his hands moving back to your hip to hold you in place. When you moved your hands to the back of his neck, fingers playing with the hair, the hand on your hip squeezed.

“Fuck, kitten.” Sylus was the first to break the kiss, his head tipping to lay against the back of the couch. The feeling of you sitting on him, your entire body weight pressing on the one spot he needs you the most. It was almost too much, his heart beating faster and faster. Was it possible for him to die of a heart attack? He wasn’t sure. He had healed many of his injuries from battles himself, but a heart attack? Maybe it was possible.

It was okay, though. He would gladly die by your hand. You were the only reason his heart beat, and if you will it, it would stop beating right then and there.

Seeing the opportunity, your lips moved to his neck, kisses littering the expanse of his beautiful skin. The scars that outlined his past, memories that were long forgotten, were disappearing under dark marks that you sucked into his skin. His past no longer mattered since his future was on his lap, making her own memories on his skin.

Both of his hands sat on your hips, fingertips threatening to dip under the waistband of your leggings. He wanted to take it further, and he was sure he could find the right words, but would he actually be able to perform to your satisfaction? Pleasure coursed through his veins as your teeth teased the skin of his collarbone, and all thoughts flew out the window as he sat up, eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation.

Your name hung in the air as the man underneath you groaned. Sylus couldn’t believe how desperate he sounded, his throat contracting as he swallowed. Pride was a word unknown to him at that specific moment in time, the only thought being your beautiful face and eyes that looked at him like he was every star in the galaxy. In fact, he would typically akin himself to a black hole, swallowing everything in his path and stopping at nothing to achieve what he wanted.

Right now, all he wanted was you.

“Hm?” You inquired, lips aching to be back on his body. Your fingers danced under the shirt collar on his back, tracing the muscles that stretched taut.

“If you would allow me,” He hesitated for a moment, thoughts in his head jumbling up before the image of you sprawled underneath him came to the surface. He had to see it firsthand. “I need you, kitten. Now.”

Your core throbbed, your heart pounding against your chest, as his offer was met with a momentary silence. He was always so chivalrous, asking for permission and treating you as if you were a precious artifact. During business meetings, he was never afraid to show his position and made it clear to everyone in the room who the boss was. Yet here he was, showing a vulnerability he didn’t know he had to you and allowing you to see another side of him.

“Okay,” You agreed, your own pussy pulsing at the thought of finally being with Sylus. It was futile to hide your excitement, hips rotating in circles on his lap. Rubbing yourself against him, you leaned forward, kissing him with even more fervor than before. “I would love nothing more. I need you too, Sylus.”

That was all the confirmation he needed. His legs moved on his own accord, lifting you off the couch and forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist. He would never let you fall, his hands moving from your hips to your ass, holding you close to him as he walked to his bedroom. Your lips hovered over his skin, breath hot against him, and he had to take a deep breath to regain some composure.

“There is one thing you need to know, kitten.” As soon as you were laid on his bed, the remnants of the other costumes fell to the floor as the comforter shifted. He spoke against your lips, his fingers wrapping around your back to unclasp your bra. “I’ve never been interested in sexual relationships until you came along.”

You knew what he was implying, your hand cupping his jaw momentarily. Silence hovered in the air as you waited for him to speak again. However, when he didn’t, you kissed him slower and more gently than the intense need from before.

“Do you still want to do this?” Your question hung in the air for barely a second before Sylus ground his hips against your pelvis, his erection pressing against layers of clothing that he hoped would be gone soon.

“Does feeling me rock hard for you answer your question?” His voice became playful for a moment, hand discarding your bra and tweaking your nipple between his fingers. “I’m not one to beg, kitten. I just need a little… Guidance.” He leaned down, lips wrapping around your nipple and looking up to gauge your reaction.

A gasp fell from your lips, your hands in his hair gripping tighter, holding him against you so hard that you thought perhaps your souls would meld into one. While his mouth tended to one of your breasts, his hand took care of the other, thumb flicking and teasing your bud. Your underwear became stuck to you, the fabric causing you to squirm in his grasp.

“I- I think you’re- doing well with- without my help.” Your voice stuttered as pleasure overwhelmed your senses. Sylus’s upper lip curled, and his mouth disconnected from you for a split second.

“What can I say…” His breath across your damp skin caused a shiver to rack your body. “I’m a fast learner.”

Upon hearing a moan slip past your lips, Sylus concluded that he would spend eternity dragging every last noise from that pretty mouth of yours. It was his favorite melody, his own body responding to the siren call as his cock twitched in his sweatpants.

“Sylus,” Your moan morphed into an echo of his name, and fuck, you always sounded beautiful, but when you moaned his name? The man bit back the urge to rip your leggings and underwear off. A primal urge inside of him roared to life, needing so desperately to be buried in your pussy - whether it be his mouth or his cock was irrelevant at that point.

“Can I take these off?” Sitting up on his heels, he ran his finger underneath the waistband of your leggings. He couldn’t wait any longer; his skin tingled with energy, and he stared at you, urging you to allow him access to the one thing he wanted the most.

Sylus watched you nod, but it wasn’t enough for him. His eyebrows lifted slightly, head visibly shaking back and forth as he clicked his tongue. “No, no. I need your words, kitten. Tell me what you want me to do, how you want me to do it.”

You bit back a whine, the ears on your headband rubbing against the pillow as you arched your back. His fingernail tickled you, pressing hard enough that you felt it but not enough to cause you pain. With a huff, you opened your mouth; thighs spread wide to accommodate his large frame.

“Yes, you can take them off.” A pause, your hands clutching the sheets below you. “I want you to take them off, Sylus.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard.” He didn’t mean to sound so harsh. All he wanted in the world was to fulfill your needs and satisfy you so no other person could compare to what he could do. All he needed to know was how to do it. Once he found out, he would never forget it.

“Take my underwear off too.” His gentle hands unbuckled your boots, tossing them to the side of the bed. Your words shot straight to his cock, and he sat for a split second, his hands gripping your calves. Sitting back, Sylus hooked his fingers in the waistband of your leggings, pulling them down your legs very slowly. Maybe he was a sloth in his past life.

As much as he yearned to be inside you, he wanted to take his time savoring each and every reveal of your body and the noise that fell from your lips. Of course, his favorite would always and forever be when you said his name. You had already bared your soul to him, risking everything to travel here, to be with him, and now he could indulge in the only thing left—your body.

“Patience, kitten.” His voice was smooth as he spoke, hands kneading the flesh of your thigh. Your dark red underwear outlined your pussy perfectly. He preached patience to you, yet he could feel his own begin to disintegrate when faced with you, all spread out and ready for him. “I want to take my time savoring you.”

His experiences were few and far between, but what he did know was that you loved when he kissed your neck, leaving minor marks that had to be covered up in the morning. So he did the same to your thighs. Except he could leave as many marks as he wanted; no one else got to see you like this. He could dance his lips across your skin, planting seeds that would blossom later and eventually sprout the next time he undressed you. No one else would see them except you and him. You would be reminded of how amazing his lips felt, and he would remember the pleasure that rushed through him as he marked you for himself.

Sylus nipped at your skin, your fingers immediately carding through his hair. Sparks exploded in each spot that he bit, only to be soothed by his tongue, your taste intoxicating to him. You had quickly become his favorite meal, and he hadn’t even gotten to your pussy yet.

Maybe Sylus would never admit it, his pride too high and ego a bit too large to actually say it out loud, but he hesitated with taking your underwear off. He took pride in learning quickly, confident he could make you feel good after some guidance. But until he learned, he was unsure. He didn’t know what to do, how to touch you, and deep in his heart, he was afraid you would laugh at him or… Even worse, he would hurt you.

“Sylus.” Your voice calling his name snapped him back to reality. His eyes found yours as he looked up at the expanse of your body. The fingers in his hair massaged his scalp, and goosebumps rose on his arms as he gripped your thighs. “Please, take them off.”

Your plea didn’t fall on deaf ears, his hands moving on their own accord and playing with the band of your underwear. Slowly, even slower than your leggings, he slid them down your legs, letting them fall onto the sheets. His eyes trailed up to your core, glistening and waiting for anything he wanted to give you.

The man in front of you wanted to give you everything. The whole world served up on a platter… Any piece of jewelry or clothing you desired... You wanted someone dead? Don’t say another word; he’s already got their address on file. For the moment, however, he could settle on his mouth and fingers and, eventually, his cock.

“Can I touch you?” His hands ghosted up your thighs, thumbs dipping to press against your hip bones.

Another nod started, but you caught yourself, your pussy clenching upon seeing the leader of the N109 zone’s most notorious group in such a vulnerable position. All for you. His face inched closer, his eyes looking up at you like you were a god, and he was but a mere mortal, asking for grace to be able to lay his hands on your ethereal form. Sylus always seemed so hard, his brow set in a line and eyes distant, but this Sylus… He was affectionate and willing to put his position aside just to be beneath you.

“Yes…” You nodded, one of your hands falling to the pillow beside your head. The soft silk caressed your skin, but nothing would compare to Sylus’ calloused fingers tracing their way to your pussy. “You can touch me. Please touch me.”

His thumb dipped to your folds, collecting some of your arousal. It fascinated him, seeing you dripping onto the sheets. He did that. Sylus bit his lip, bringing his thumb up to his mouth and wrapping his lips around it. Your taste exploded on his tongue. It was a very unfamiliar taste, but he could find himself becoming drunk on it.

“Delicious.” He commented, looking up at you. “How and where do you touch yourself?”

This time, he didn’t sound teasing, his question genuine as he paused, taking in your open mouth and heavily lidded eyes. He was curious, his breath hitting your slick and making you shudder.

As if you weren’t already spread out naked in front of him, you could feel a bit of embarrassment and timidness creep into your movements. The hand that was in his hair moved to your lower stomach, your fingers teasing slowly towards your pussy. You had done it before - touched yourself. Sometimes, it was to fantasies you had with Sylus, dreams you would wake up from soaked and throbbing for release.

Thinking about those times, you dipped your index finger down, finding your clit. With one touch, you were gasping, sensitivity at an all-time high from all the teasing. Rotating in circles, your moans picked up, your other hand moving to brush against your nipple. The added stimulation had you clenching around nothing, your hole leaking even more onto the sheets.

Sylus watched in wonder, eyes tracing every movement and noise. His cock throbbed, and he sat up, pulling his shirt off as he watched you pleasure yourself. The knot in your lower stomach tightened, and with Sylus looking at you like a wolf looking at his prey, you weren’t sure you could last.

“Sylus.” Your lips formed his name, eyes locking with his. It was as if all the air had been sucked out of his lungs. His bare torso shone in the light, a layer of sweat forming as heat settled in the room.

“Do you think of me when you touch yourself?” He looked back at your fingers, his hands itching to touch you. Each image was cataloged into his brain, memories he would keep close to him. No one held a candle to how perfect you looked, your chest heaving as you played with yourself, your fingers teasing your clit just enough to keep the knot tight but not enough to release it.

“Yes, I have before.” You manage to speak. It felt like you were shoved into the fire in the common room, your skin burning under his gaze.

“Good,” Sylus smirked, his bare shoulders fitting perfectly under your thighs, parting them enough so he could see your throbbing hole and the small bud beneath your fingers. His hands sat on the inside of your thighs, fingers gripping the skin as he spoke again. “Can I try?”

“Please,” A whine fell from your lips, fingers removing themselves from your breast and clit. The invitation sat in the air for a moment before Sylus crept his hand up your stomach, grabbing your breast. His rough hands differed from yours, the callouses making the friction extra delicious on top of your sensitivity.

Sylus rolled your nipple between his thumb and index finger, his other hand wrapping around your thigh to settle close to your pussy. His thumb pressed down on your folds, searching for just a moment before he felt your body tense. A loud moan echoed through the room, and he smirked. Applying a bit of pressure, Sylus drew circles around your clit, just as he saw you do with your own fingers.

Maybe it was because his fingers were bigger than your own, or perhaps the scars and marks along his hands created even more surface area, but it felt infinitely better than anything you could have done yourself. His name was chanted repeatedly, your fingers returning to his hair and pulling.

He listened to your moans, growing louder and higher as he continued his ministrations. Licking his lips, he inched closer to your heat, wanting to taste you. “May I have a taste of my kitten?” His voice was nearly silent, nose mere inches from brushing against your folds.

“Yes, fuck.” You cursed, arching your back into his hand that still played with your nipples. “Please.”

Your confirmation was all Sylus needed, his tongue licking a long stripe from your hole up to where his thumb lazily played with your clit. His mouth was filled with your arousal, and a low growl rumbled through his chest. Instinctively he closed his eyes, savoring the taste of you before diving back in. How had he gone so long without knowing your intoxicating taste?

A soft whine you let out traveled straight to Sylus’ cock, forcing him to pull away. He needed a moment to pull himself together. The warmth of his tongue and the sudden disappearance of his thumb on your clit had you wiggling your hips, desperate for something, anything.

The reprieve came in the form of his nose, the tip lightly brushing your clit as he dipped his tongue into your hole. Testing the waters, he teased around your entrance a few times before pushing in again. It was a cat-and-mouse game, the way he prodded just a bit deeper each time. His nose pressed against your clit, moving every time Sylus turned his head. Your fingers gripped his scalp, trying to get him closer to you.

Your legs tried to close around his head, and the man below you had to strengthen his hold to keep you spread for him. Sylus wasn’t sure if he could die by suffocation, but it seemed like a pretty good way to go if it meant he could die between your thighs.

As he continued, you felt the knot in your lower stomach growing tighter and tighter. When you ground against his face, his eyes were the only thing you could see as he looked up at you. Squelching and sloppy noises came from Sylus as he became a man starved. Deprived of you for so long, he would eat as much as he could.

“Sylus, please. Fu- fuck. I’m-.” Your sentence became broken up as his middle finger pressed against your entrance. His tongue glided up to your clit, flicking the sensitive nub as he eased in. It felt weird momentarily, his finger exploring your walls and not hitting anything. But fuck, as soon as he touched a spot that felt different from the rest of your squishy walls, Sylus noticed the way you clenched around his finger, mouth falling open, yet no sound coming out.

“Feel good, kitten?” His lips barely left your pussy before diving back in. As he continued to stroke that spot, he suctioned his mouth around your clit, watching with amusement and a little bit of pain as your legs tried to close around his head once again. Your fingernails scratched at his scalp, a few hairs probably coming out, but he couldn’t care less as he watched pleasure overtake you.

Your orgasm came barreling down on you like a wall of bricks, your chest heaving as you ground down onto Sylus’ face to chase the aftershocks of the high. His finger inside you still played with that spot, tongue lightly licking at your clit as your nerves exploded. The way you clenched around his finger had him wondering, how good would that feel wrapped around his cock?

“There you go, kitten.” His voice surrounded you, coaxing you through your high until your hips twitched and your hand pressed against his forehead. Overstimulation caused your nerves to stand on end, your clit sensitive even as he breathed out a sigh against you. “You look so beautiful when you cum.”

When he sat up on his knees, you could see the prominent tent on his sweatpants, eyes wide as he brought his finger to his lips. The rest of your orgasm was cleaned from his finger, yet his chin still glistened with your juices.

“Can you take one more?” His hand was dipped under the waistband of his sweatpants, wrapping around his length. Oh, how he wished it was your pussy, or your hand, perhaps even your mouth, but that could wait. He needed to be inside you. “I want to see you come undone around my cock, kitten.”

As you caught your breath, you watched him gently stroke himself. If he was feeling any pleasure, he didn’t let it show, his lips set in a fine line as he awaited your answer. Precum leaked from his tip, staining the front of his pants as you nodded, swallowing the saliva in your throat before speaking.

“Please, I need you, Sylus.” Your eyes locked with his, legs spreading further and fingers threatening to tear his sheets. “I need you to fuck me.”

A low chuckle vibrated his chest as he stepped off the bed, hands already pushing down his sweatpants. Sylus bit back a hiss as the cold air settled on his throbbing cock, standing at attention and leaking precum all for you. “Your wish is my command, kitten.”

His body towered over yours, mind reeling as you took in his size. He was huge, and while you had experimented with dildos before, nothing could compare to the sight of him. The thought of the stretch was both intimidating and arousing; your bottom lip sucked into your mouth as he settled back between your legs.

“I can assure you I’m clean.” He started, stroking himself as his nose brushed yours. “As long as your okay with it, I’d like to fuck you raw, feel all of you around me so that I know what every inch of you feels like.” His words make you clench your empty hole, wanting so badly to be filled by him. The way he spoke had goosebumps blossoming across your arms, his breath fanning your face as his tip rubbed against your folds. “I’ll fetch condoms for next time. Just allow me this pleasure, kitten.”

The hand that wasn’t on his cock sat on your hip, thumb gently caressing your side. The feeling of his tip pressing against your clit had you gasping, a low hum coming from your chest as you nodded your head. “I’m on birth control.” Your eyes met his, and you leaned forward to kiss him. “I want to feel every inch of your cock.”

Your hand trailed down to wrap around him, a vein pulsing under your skin. Sylus’ lips met yours, a slow, languid kiss pausing the atmosphere for just a moment. The feeling of your hand on him, your thumb passing over his tip, and the way you lined him up with your entrance… Sylus wasn’t sure just how long he could last.

The kiss was broken when Sylus opened his mouth, a low groan erupting from his throat as pleasure spiked through him. His imagination couldn’t hold a flame to how your hand felt around him. Slowly, he pushed himself in, the stretch causing you to hiss.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” Sylus gritted his teeth, slowing down even further despite feeling your velvet walls begging him to go deeper. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

His grip on your hips tightened as he pressed into you more; half of his length now passed through your entrance. You could already feel him against your sensitive spot, your mouth open in a perpetual scream as you tried not to clench around him. With each inch, you felt your stomach flip, and it wasn’t until his pelvis was pressed against yours that you let out a breath.

A small tuft of hair tickled your clit as you wiggled your hips, relaxing around his length and getting used to him filling every part of you. As he adjusted himself, his hips tilted, his tip pressing right against a spot that had stars appearing behind your eyelids. One of his hands moved to where yours rested on the pillow, palm up. Gently, he filled the spaces between your fingers, holding onto your hand. Kisses were pressed against your face, his own breathing labored as he kept his composure.

“Fuck, you’re so big.” You breathed against his neck, your hand squeezing his. Seconds seemed to tick on forever as you laid still, your breaths becoming synced. Eventually, you felt your hips relax, your legs opening just a bit more to help accommodate him. With a deep breath, you looked up at the man above you, a small smile gracing your lips. “You can move, Sylus.”

It took him a few seconds to respond, his hips moving slowly back. Emptiness filled you as his tip rested against your entrance. His nose brushed against yours, and he leaned down to kiss you. As you were in a liplock, he thrust forward, listening to the gasp from your mouth and the soft clap of his balls on your ass. He pulled out again, your moans swallowed by his mouth as he began to pick up the pace.

Sylus groaned, pulling away from your lips. As much as he hated not feeling your lips on his, he had no choice. He had to hear you. Your sweet moans greeted his ears as he looked down, watching where he disappeared in you. Each pullback showed his cock shining with your juices, and each thrust forward had his abs flexing as you sucked him back in.

The pleasure you brought him was unimaginable, and there wasn’t anything he could do to get enough of you. He had been yearning for you for centuries; it was overwhelming now that he finally had you.

“Kitten.” His pants turned to groans of your name as he squeezed your hand hard. The loud squelching and slap of his balls on your ass rang through the room. His thrusts slowed as he sat up, eyes trailing across your body. The marks on your neck and thighs, the heaving of your chest as pleasure coursed through you, everything was his.

Your hips circled his pelvis, feeling him hit new depths within you. A pang of pain and pleasure shocked you as you felt his tip hit your cervix. He was so deep, the throbbing of his cock now causing everything in your own body to throb. It felt like every atom of your bodies were connected, and no matter how evil he seemed, your soul could never give him up.

“Sylus,” You moaned, the hand that wasn’t grasped in his resting on his abdomen. Your nails lightly scratched his skin, and he nearly doubled over. He really liked it.

With your noises spurring him on, he ground his pelvis into yours, hand moving down and thumb rubbing circles on your clit. He needed you to finish because he knew he was very close himself. You had to come first.

“Come for me, kitten.” He whispered your name against your lips, hips stuttering and grinding against you. The thumb on your clit pressed harder, and you felt your muscles freeze; a loud - louder than all the previous ones - moan that bordered on a scream echoed through his empty house as you came. Maybe it was because he was buried so deep inside you that you felt so full and satisfied, but this orgasm felt different.

Your entrance clenched around him, your release surrounding his cock as he paused, buried inside you. With a low growl, you felt warmth - borderline hot - as his seed filled the minimal space that remained. Your lips tingled, clit pulsing as you felt his cock twitch, each time sending another spurt of cum right against your cervix.

“Fuck, sweetie.” Sylus cursed, pulling out of you slowly and watching with satisfaction and curiosity as your mixed releases trailed out of your used hole. Something like an animalistic urge came over him; he collected the leaking cum, pressing it gently back into you. Your hips twitched, and you tried to close your legs, but overstimulation and exhaustion crept into your muscles.

“You’re so beautiful, look so perfect, stuffed with my cum.” Sylus lays down on the bed, his cock softening as he pulls you into his arms. His hands smoothed down your back, massaging a few of the tight muscles he finds on his exploration.

When you lay your head on his chest, you listened to his heartbeat, a steady rhythm that, no matter how much danger he was in, was completely calm. That time, you noticed the slight uptick in speed, his breaths coming quicker. The pleasure overwhelmed him, everything about you smothering him and causing his chest to tighten. His heart - which always stayed at the same steady beat - quickened as you wrapped your arms around his torso.

Your bare chests pressed against each other as silence fell across the house. The feeling of Sylus’ and your come leaking from you caused you to lift your head, a somewhat disgusted look on your face. “Sylus.”

He raised his eyebrows at you, awaiting whatever you were going to say. His own head was a bit cloudy, the aftermath still settling like dust on old books. “Yes, kitten?” The rough hands that held you like a piece of glass halted their movements.

“Can we take a shower?” You tried to close your legs, your juices starting to pool on Sylus’ abdomen. “The feeling of your cum leaking out of me is uncomfortable.”

Sylus chuckled, storing that little tidbit of information for the future. He sat up, wrapping his arms around your thighs and standing. Slowly walking towards the bathroom, he nuzzled his nose into your neck, inhaling your scent and feeling himself start to get hard again.

“Does that mean we can have round two and get clean at the same time?” He mused, his thumb brushing close to your core as he turned the water on.

“I’ll think about it.” Although he had just heard you screaming his name, you laughed, and Sylus determined that your laugh was his new favorite sound. Stepping into the shower, you reached out to your boyfriend. “Maybe you can help me wash my hair?”

Nodding, Sylus stepped in, joining you as steam clouded the mirror. The cat ears you had on earlier sat on the pillowcase, a reminder of Sylus’ nickname for you and its effect on him. Maybe you should wear it more often…

© starsforxavi

[fayerie]

shopping for cologne with gojo satoru — can it really be that bad… or is it just dangerously tempting?

<𝟑 .ᐟ gojo x f!reader, mdni .

the boutique is a sanctuary of scent - all muted lighting, brushed gold fixtures, and shelves lined with minimalist glass bottles like artifacts behind velvet ropes.

a quiet symphony of notes - amber, oud, bergamot presented, delicate and intoxicating, like a secret whispered too close to the skin.

gojo satoru removes his sunglasses the moment you both step inside.

"this is sacred ground," he says, deadpan. his voice is reverent. "no jokes and definitely no rushing, we're here to make history."

you blink. "we're just buying cologne."

"we are curating a scent identity," he corrects, eyes scanning the shelves like he’s evaluating something you'll never understand. "the olfactory version of a signature technique."

before you can respond, two boutique staff near the marble counter exchange a quick glance - recognition lighting up their eyes, one of them all but glides over.

"ah, gojo-san. welcome back," she says, smiling too widely, already slipping a white glove onto one hand. "it’s always a pleasure."

the second employee whispers something under her breath by the register. you catch a barely stifled laugh and the words "we’re making rent twice over today."

gojo barely offers a nod in return, eyes still roaming the shelves like a sniper tracking a target. "mm, we’re just looking. i’ll let you know."

"of course! but do let us know if you’d like something pulled from the back," the woman adds with a practiced bow. "we just got a new exclusive shipment in, super limited run. only five bottles produced."

gojo hums noncommittally, not even looking at her. "maybe later, don’t crowd us."

the attendant backs off gracefully, clearly used to this kind of dismissal.

still, her grin widens as she heads back to the counter, you hear faint typing - the kind of frantic clicking that sounds like a sale being tallied before it's even made.

you reach for a sleek black bottle, the label embossed in quiet blue, gojo watches you with the intensity of someone about to judge a wine tasting. you spritz it lightly onto your wrist.

he’s already leaning in before you can offer. his nose brushes your skin as he inhales, slow and focused. he lingers a second too long.

"god, that’s good," he murmurs. "too good on you. i’m distracted. spray it on me. here -" he lifts his shirt collar, exposing a triangle of pale skin just above his collarbone. "right there, precision matters."

you spray, he closes his eyes as he sniffs it thoroughly like he's been deported to dreamland.

"i need it," he says after a beat. "but not just this one. i’ll need more. at least three."

"you’re not building a collection, gojo, you’re building an arsenal."

"exactly." he plucks another bottle from the shelf with expert fingers. "this one’s more pepper forward. spicy. assertive. boardroom energy. for when i have to pretend i take things seriously."

he sprays it across his inner wrist, lifts it to his nose, then to yours, watching you as you inhale. "this is the one i wear when i walk in late to a meeting but everyone still forgives me."

you arch a brow. "and the other one?"

"night scent," he says simply, already dabbing a third bottle along his throat. "warm. musky. slightly indecent, the kind that lingers on someone else’s clothes the next morning."

you try not to react, but he sees it. grins.

"scent," he says, eyes glinting with something unreadable, "is memory, people won’t always remember what i said. but they’ll remember how i smelled when i said it."

you stare at him, dumbstruck, "you’ve totally rehearsed that line."

"i live that line."

he tests another, thoughtfully rubbing it in with his thumb. then, eyebrows raised: "be honest. would you think about me all day if this was on your hoodie?"

you glance at the tester strip in your hand. "if it meant you’d stop asking, maybe."

"ha. so, yes." he tucks the strip into your pocket with practiced ease. "keep it. for analysis purposes."

from behind the counter, the staff are now hovering within earshot. one of them discreetly sets out a branded shopping bag and two complimentary boxes of luxury minis preemptively.

"just say the word, gojo-san. we’ll wrap everything," one of them offers, practically bouncing on her heels.

gojo waves her off with a lazy flick of his fingers, still watching you. "i’ll let her pick."

and with that, he turns back to the display - utterly absorbed, evaluating bottle weight, spray distribution, scent evolution like a man solving a an equation in three dimensions.

you follow, shaking your head but already smiling, because only gojo satoru can make cologne shopping feel like a theatrical scene.

you don't even remember leaving the boutique, no - you can't remember anything in this state.

somehow, you're pinned beneath him in the dim haze of his hotel room - your back arching against the sheets, your senses already overloaded.

skin still tingling where he sprayed you, where you sprayed him. sandalwood and something darker - amber, maybe - still clings to his collarbone, your wrists, the inside of your thighs where he kissed you without warning.

his hands are everywhere. his mouth is worse.

"fuck," he breathes, lips dragging down your throat like he’s trying to taste the scent on your skin. "you know how crazy that shit made me? the second you sprayed it? almost fucked you against that display."

you whimper as his hips grind slow into yours, the friction torturously shallow.

"you smell so sweet now," he murmurs, tongue tracing over your pulse. "like sex, cedar and trouble."

his fingers slide between your thighs, wet and eager, you buck into his hand. he laughs under his breath - soft and smug.

"you like the scent, baby?" he teases, voice dropping lower as he curls two fingers inside you. "should i spray it on my cock… and fuck it into you?"

your breath stutters.

"yeah," he grins, already reaching for the bottle on the nightstand. "make sure it stays in this pretty pussy for days."

he spritzes once - shameless - over his abs, down toward where he's hard and leaking for you. then he leans in, lips ghosting yours.

"deep breaths," he whispers. "i want you to remember me every time you catch it in the air."

and when he finally pushes in - deep and slow - you realize the worst or rather - the best part is:

you will.

a/n: ok so i got this idea and JUMPED to write it // divider by @/cafekitsune // ps. PLEASE DONT DO THIS LMAO YOU'LL GET AN INFECTION IN UR 😼 this is fiction!!!