#Still probably faster than trying to think of something else anyways

[thedailyvio]

Day 342

[iceeericeee]

I wonder how many tags i can add on to this

[mywritersmind]

AVOIDANCE - LN4

summary : Lando can’t help but keep his on you. You’re beautiful, talented, sharp as nails… just enough to wreck him. That doesn’t change the fact that he wants you. In fact, it only motivates him more.

listen up : daniel riccardo cadillac teammate!! 21st team. if you didn’t know, i have a driver x lando fic up on wattpad! i kinda wanna re write it bc i miss it so much and think it could be sm better! anyway i hope you like this!!

words : 6850

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Tate Mcrae’s ‘Just Keep Watching’ blasted through the speakers just as the podium trophies were awarded to the top three. 

Miami was hot and grueling for all the drivers, but specifically the finishers of P2 and P3.

Carlos and Alex stood below, watching their co workers get awarded, soon joined the newest addition to this season. “So what’s the deal with Lando and-”

He didn’t even need to finish, the two men already knew the name that would ghost his lips. “He’s in love with her, what else?” Alex said, crossing his arms to watch Lando pop his champagne. 

The crowd screams made Carlos correct Alex even louder, “He’s got a crush on her!” They watched as Oscar sprayed Lando’s back, Lando trying to retaliate but failing due to the amount of champagne in his eyes. 

“Always has!” Alex added, a flash of a silver race suit catches the crowds attention, the suit less important than who’s wearing it- someone that’s becoming more familiar to the top steps these days. “It’s been going on for years…”

Franco frowned, bringing his water bottle to his lips just as she faked Lando out with her bottle of champagne just to drink it, looking him dead in the eye while doing it. “She doesn’t know?” 

Carlos and Alex stared at Franco, poor, innocent, fresh blood, Franco… He had no clue how far their story went, no idea what has gone down. Alex and Carlos both sigh, knowing far too much about their twisted little dynamic, “Oh she knows…” Alex mumbled. 

“He doesn’t care that she knows and hasn’t done anything?” Franco looked so shocked at this that it almost made Carlos laugh. 

“Oh no… I think it turns him on even more.”

⋆༺

I hate fish

I hate gin

I hate paper cuts 

I hate losing 

I hate Lando Norris. 

And yet, the smile that tugs at his lips while he watches me pour the winning liquid down my throat, makes me think- only for a second, how could I ever hate him? 

Him and his stupid freckles. Him and his bloody need to make space for himself in my life. 

I stopped hating Lando a while ago. It lingers in my thoughts sometimes, but I'm pretty sure it’s a reflection of how I feel about myself. 

“Don’t give me that look, sev.” We’re still standing on the podium, the shaken champagne dropping low in Oscars hands. “Come out with us tonight.”

“P3 isn’t a celebration for me.” I say flatly, ignoring the nickname he’s pinned on me since getting one glance at the number 7 in our karting days. 

“Doesn’t mean you can’t still party.” The way his lips curve makes my heart race faster, something I'll tell myself is just the adrenaline from the race. 

“You’re coming to the party?” Oscar says brightly, shining in bubbly as he wipes his eyes. 

I nod, keeping it short and standing on the top step with the boys with me, smiling for the cameras, wondering how different it will be when I actually stand up here alone. 

“Oh so you’ll come with Osc but not me?” Lando holds his trophy, waving to the crowd distractingly. 

“Of course I will, I like him more than you.” I’m not lying, not really. I don’t miss the way Lando’s jaw tenses, only a split second that could be missed by a blink before he goes back to smiling and slapping Oscar on the back. 

⋆༺

I do go with Oscar, sitting in the back of the car while my pregame shot sets in and Oscar rattles away on the phone with Lily. 

The club is just what I expected, maybe just what I needed. Alex sees me first, making me genuinely smile while dragging me over to the others. He’s awfully happy for the circumstances of his race. 

Daniel is doing shots with Max, probably celebrating his return to F1 for the millionth time. Isack, Pierre, and Ollie pull me into their conversation immediately after congratulating me. The two frenchmen are explaining football rivalries to Ollie, who sips his drink and gives me confused looks once and a while. 

It’s just about the time when I'm drowning out the boys and wondering why I'm not drinking yet, when I see him. Lando walks across the floor with Franco by his side, he’s in all black, his curls grown out and a drink in each hand. 

Franco leans in to Lando after they both notice me. While Franco talks, Lando’s eyes are on me. On my legs, on my heels, on my scrap of a top. They’re still on me when Franco stops talking. His reaction is a mix of laughter and uncertainty, his eyes darting away from me in the middle of his response. That’s how I know it’s about me. 

“Fran, I’d rather you talk about me to my face.” Franco laughs at this, pulling me into a side hug as I mess up his hair. 

“Start drinking before he keeps talking, it helps.” Lando hands me one of the drinks in his hands. It’s a martini. I pause before I take it and as if he reads my mind, he says, “Vodka, not gin.”

Everyone around us starts yelling and clapping at the exact same time. Making me pull my eyes from Lando and to Oscar, who smiles shyly at the welcome. 

“Our race winner!” Lando holds up his glass, he’s so chill, an easy smile on his lips even though we all know people could have been saying that to him. 

I love being with the rest of the grid, even if my intention last year was to have no friends, only enemies. My words clearly hasn’t panned out well because each of them has weaseled their way into my heart, new and old. 

The only thing I dislike about being out with them is that women flock to us. I mean, the girls are pretty and usually nice, but it also means that my friends are pulled away by mini skirts and bras. 

Don’t get me wrong, guys find me as well. It’s just that the ones that do happen to have a lot of confidence, walking into a crowd of fit F1 men who would likely fight for my honor… they happen to fall in the category that I call: False drunken confidence and eyes for my tits only. 

So I stay away from the thirsty guys and stick with the ones who are alone due to the lack of their girlfriend not being here. Lando is always with us even though, to my knowledge, Lando is very single. 

I’ve seen him flirt with girls, letting them slip their hands to his hair and kissing his neck cheekily. I’ve seen him wave goodbye with a pretty blonde on his arm, but never, in my two years in formula one, have I ever gone out and had Lando not talk to me. 

“That girl is staring you down like you’re edible.” Pierre sips his drink, nodding to the blonde girl who is doing just what he said. 

Lando looks at her, not flirty or teasing, just blinks before looking back at Pierre, “She looks about nineteen.”

“She’s twenty one.” Franco says, making us all look at him, “What? I talked to her.” I raise my brow at him just as the others mumble words of disbelief, “Okay- I made out with her.” He rolls his eyes. 

“Great. I don’t want your sloppy seconds, sounds paddock bunny like.” Lando shakes his head, leaning back into the couch and slipping his arm around the back of it- around the back of where I'm sitting. 

His jacket is over my legs, Lando saw the length of my skirt and my frown when everyone else sat and so easily handed it to me without another word. 

Franco starts fidgeting in his seat, “I need to dance, who’s with me?” None of the guys move. He turns to me, smiling ear to ear and holding out a hand, “My queen.” 

I almost say no simply because I hate the nickname the grid has dubbed me. I’m the only woman on the grid, something a bit awkward to navigate sometimes, but also something that the other drivers acknowledge but never really talk about. 

“I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you dance with Lando instead.” Ollie says suddenly, making my eyes narrow and Lando drag his hand over his face. 

“I’d give a hundred bucks to not do that.” I stand, throwing Lando’s jacket beside him and making him peak up at me. I don’t mean to sound so mean, but I don’t really know how else to respond to that. 

Not when I know he wants me to say yes, not for money or jokes, either. 

“Why will you dance with Franco and not Lando? Either is ending up posted somewhere tomorrow.” Carlos just has to remind me of the existence of phones and social media. 

I take Franco’s hand, “Franco likes older women.” He grins at this. 

“You are older than him!” Lando laughs, his eyes meeting mine and shining green in the strobe lights. 

I can’t help but smirk, shrugging and tugging the younger man away, “C’mon, Fran.” 

⋆༺

My free week is spent with training, getting coffee with Alex’s girlfriend, and trying to calm my mind by reading. 

I’m back in the air too soon, flying with Max and Daniel who surprise me with a special guest… Lando. Flying with my teammate and basically his husband means that Lando and I are third and fourth wheeling. 

I’m curled up in my seat, headphones on and book in hand while the boys play some card game. “Sev!” I hear Lando scream, making me pull of my headphones and hum in response.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Max asks as if they wouldn’t know the second a guy even asked me out. 

“No. Why?”

Daniel grins, looking over his seat at me, “I have someone for you.” 

My eyes narrow, “If it’s Lando, the answer is no.”

I see the brit frown, mumbling, “Why not?” 

“It’s not Lando.” Daniel says, making Lando physically react and sitting up straight to look at his friend, “He’s a driver-”

“Immediately no.” 

Max laughs out loud while Daniel rolls his eyes, “It’s rally-”

“Absolutely not.” Lando scoffs, earning a suspicious look from me. 

“You have no say in this, buddy.” Max tugs the hood of Lando’s hoodie over his head, Lando shoving him right back. 

“I have a girl for you, Lando.” I say, crossing my legs to get more comfortable in the two seats I’m taking up. 

“Is it you?” He shoots back quickly. 

“No.” 

“Then I don’t want her.” He says it teasingly but his eyes are on me, his usual smirk gone. 

None of the guys flirt with me except for Lando. Franco has said some joking remarks but apart from some drunken compliments, they’re like my brothers. Not Lando though, never Lando. 

I’ve known him since karting as the nerdy little boy who liked all of my instagram pictures and fought me on track. Now he’s the nerdy formula one driver who’s annoyingly hot and wildly confusing, still fighting me on track. 

Daniel whistles slowly, my eyes pulling away from Lando and back to my book. His eyes stay on me, I can fucking feel it. 

They go back to their game and when we land in Italy, I leave that plane with one plan in mind: beating them. 

⋆༺

“Hey sev.” I’m not happy to hear him, or see him. Except the way he looks might help a little bit. 

“Fuck off, Norris.” He shouldn’t even be near the Cadillac garage. 

My lap got deleted so I'll be starting P15. Lando’s P4 and even he’s upset about it. I’d give anything to switch with him. 

He doesn’t roll his eyes, just crosses his arms and leans closer. “Be nice to me, you rejected me on the plane.” 

I blink. “I always reject you.” 

He nudges my arm, looking away to scan the paddock before sighing, “God forbid a man speak his truth.” 

“What do you want, Lan?” 

“You?” He grins ear to ear and I hate that it makes me smile. “Hold on!” He opens his phone and puts it up to my face. 

“What!?”

He pockets his phone, “Just a reminder that I can still make you smile.”

“Still?” I raise my brow. 

“Don’t act like we didn’t cry laugh back in karting.” 

“Seven years ago!”

“And I stick with my feelings.” 

Someone whistles behind us, “Ay, lover boy!” It’s Daniel, he’s grinning like an idiot next to a sky sports camera man. 

I push Lando away but he grabs my hand to pull me back, “You’re gonna start rumors.” I say, very aware of the cameras on us. 

He doesn’t miss a beat, “Go out with me and then they won’t be rumors, just facts.” 

⋆༺

I don’t date drivers. I did once. Never again will I go back to that. There’s many reasons for him specifically, but a relevant one for anyone on the grid is that social media sees something and runs with it. 

Lando isn’t shy when talking about me, he’s never openly said he thinks i’m hot on camera but the way he talks to me, the subtle flirty words that get picked up in cooldown rooms… we have a fucking ship name now. 

Sour. Seven with Four; also a hint at how I feel about this little hashtag. Technically it’s pronounced ‘soar’ but I like Sour much more. 

It’s gone so far that even the other drivers will address us as Sour, even though there’s never a real need to group us together, they think it’s hilarious. 

The race goes okay from my position, ending up P7 and checking in on Kimi who couldn’t finish his home race. The weekend goes back so fast that the next thing I know, i’m on that fucking plane again. 

I’m watching the race back when Lando sits across from me, closing my screen without saying anything. 

I pull the red vine out of my mouth, “The fuck- Norris!” 

“You’re over analyzing.” He puts his feet up on my chair, wearing sweats and bright red socks. 

“I’m trying to get better.” 

“Seeing every tiny mistake you make isn’t gonna win you races.” He says flatly, “I would know.”

“At least you’ve won a race.” 

“Talk to me when you’re six years in and not two in a brand new team.” He reaches over and grabs a red vine before slouching in his seat, his curls pressing against the leather.

I breathe out, “I want to win.” 

“Then beat Max. Beat Oscar- Beat me!” He shrugs, biting into the candy. “Just chill on the race stuff when we’re 40,000 feet in the air.”

“What do you propose I do instead?” 

“Um… Watch Crazy Rich Asians like a normal person? Talk to me? Drink champagne. Play strip poker-”

“Lando!” 

He’s laughing now, “Sorry! I had to! It’s just… every second of every day is about racing for us, which is good, keeping us focused right? But I've seen people burnout…” He glances back at Danny who’s laughing with Max, “It’s not fun.”

I cross my arms, smiling a bit. “You just want me to talk to you.”

The corner of his lip tugs upwards, “I want you to beat me.”

“Don’t tell me it’s a kink of yours.” 

He full on laughs now, making my stomach twist. Lando stands, coming over to my side and sitting next to me just to open computer, “I’ll give you my netflix password.”

As soon as we land, Daniel and I have to go to a Cadillac event together. He drives while I do my makeup in the passenger seat, “So… you and Lando talked like- the whole flight.”

“It was short.” 

He hums, rocking his shoulders, “Sure but an hour is a long time to talk non-stop.” 

“We’re friends.” I rub my lips together, touching up my lip liner. 

Daniel lets out a laugh while I pop open my lipgloss, “I’m sure he’ll be delighted to hear that.”

“Will you shut it? We are.”

I can hear how unconvinced he is in the tone of his voice, “Friends who flirt.” 

“Lando flirts with me for fun- he knows people think it’s funny.”

Daniel glances at me, speechless for a second. “You can’t honestly believe he’s saying that shit for laughs… right?”

⋆༺

Being with girls after spending every moment of my day competing with men is like running through a field of daisies. Alexandra and Lily make me feel so refreshed and happy, even during a triple header!

We walk along the Monaco harbor, saying which yacht we would want or what we would name them, before heading out to get lunch. 

The place is unbelievably packed, making us all realize that we need to get better at planning and me to get over my fear of making reservations. 

I swear, I think i’m imagining his voice at first. But then, a head of dark curls and tanned body comes into view, “Hey pretty!” 

Lando already has a table because- of course he does. When Lando greets us, it’s like the waitress gains consciousness and realizes who I am. I’m somehow dragged to a table with Lando and his best friend, Max Fewtrell. The five of us sit at a table for three. 

Alex leaves midway through our drinks, having to go earlier than expected which leaves Lily and I, who are only able to laugh at who sits across from us. 

The table is less crowded now and surprisingly, we get on pretty well. Although I do think it’s mostly Max and his cheery personality. 

He’s genuinely hilarious and any tension that I expected is soon forgotten about after we order. Someone comes up and asks for a picture with Lando and I. We do it but I can’t help but cringe at the thought of #sourhavinglunchtogether going viral. 

Not one moment goes by where we’re not talking, every breath overtaken by someone else’s thoughts on whatever topic we bring up. Lily takes a selfie to send to Alex who promptly sends a million laughing emojis. 

After the millionth time that Max makes me laugh, Lando speaks up, half joking, half serious. “Why do you like all my friends more than me?”

“Maybe because they don’t hit on me every chance they get.” Now i’m half joking and half serious. 

He’s quiet the rest of the lunch, popping in jokes as usual but something’s off and he’s horrible at hiding it. 

Alex picks up Lily after our lunch, saying hello quickly before taking his girlfriend away from me. Max is on the phone when Lando awkwardly comes up to me. 

“You know, If I make you uncomfortable… I’ll stop.” It comes out of nowhere. For a second, I don’t know what he means, but then I remember my remark about him hitting on me and it clicks. 

I cringe, hating this conversation already. Do I want him to stop? Do I really just like it because of the attention? Or because it’s coming from him?

He looks worried- like he’s scared that he’s actually crossed a line. “You don’t make me uncomfortable- I just… don’t get it.”

His brows furrow, his hands in his pockets and his eyes too green for this world. His voice is serious when he says it, “You don’t get why I hit on you?” 

I don’t know what to say to that. I always know what to say- especially to him. But now… he’s looking at me as if the last two years have been a joke at his expense. 

Max joins us right before I can answer, saying something about his girlfriend and how he needs to head back. I just nod along, still looking over to Lando who won’t face me. 

⋆༺

Monaco is cloudy today and I'm suddenly very glad I picked out jeans and a sweater for this morning. I’ve spent the week on runs, doing press, and meeting up with some old friends. It’s been a quiet few days, something surprising since it’s still race week. I tap my pass against the entrance, expecting to hear the usual chime of acceptance, but when I start to walk, I'm stopped by metal.  

I frown and try again, but no luck. I’m about to try for a third time when, it finally chimes. But it’s not my paddock pass that slides against the machine with ease, I can tell just by the large veiny hand that holds it. 

I look back to see his face and my stomach does that thing again- he’s so close and for a second, I'm swallowed whole by a mess of curls and beauty marks. 

That second is soon over because without so much as looking at me, he nods to the people inside and says, “Go.” 

I mumble a quick thanks before moving through the metal and into the paddock. I try not to make a face, aware of the amount of cameras on me, but what the fuck is going on?

Lando’s been avoiding me. 

This has never happened before… I haven’t talked to him all week and it’s already Saturday. Well, unless you count that encounter that has me blushing and cringing all at once.

No. Sorry- No. Not blushing. My cheeks are just red from the sun… the sun on a cold and cloudy day. 

⋆༺

“Are you okay?” Daniel asks, standing in the doorframe of my drivers room while i’m spread out on my couch. 

“I’m great.” I mumble because, I am! P2 in quali. In Monaco! I should be way happier than I am.  

“Are you sure…?” 

“Do you think Lando’s mad at me?” I don’t look at him when I say it, I can’t. It’s wholly too embarrassing. 

I can practically hear the way his eyebrows raise, “I don’t think so. Has he been acting differently?” 

I sit up, “Today he apologized for walking past me.” He had his hand on my waist so I wouldn’t fall or panic. He was in a rush, but snatched his hand away the second I looked back at who was moving so fast. 

“Basic etiquette?”

I laugh, “Not for Lando.”

“Well, do you want me to ask? Maybe he’s just locked in for tomorrow.” 

“No!” I scramble, “No that’s okay! I don’t care. It’s good like this, quiet.” 

Daniel just smiles and leaves me alone. 

The truth is, I can’t do this anymore. I spent the whole of Saturday looking for him. What the fuck has happened to me? 

When I run into him- yes, physically, On sunday morning, I spit it out. “What’s wrong with you?”

He blinks, “Sorry?” 

We’re both in our race suits, orange and silver are not a good pair. “You’ve been weird this whole week- can you like act normal? Did something happen?” 

He starts to say something but stops before it can come out. “I thought you wanted this.”

I’m the confused one now. “What?” 

He looks around but no one’s close enough to hear, “I mean, the whole thing at lunch. You said you don’t like it when I hit on you and it’s really hard not to hit on you-”

“I told you it didn't make me uncomfortable.” 

“Max said something about it too and then that post…” He trails off, like he’s scared to make me uncomfortable again. 

A post went viral of all the reasons why Lando and I are secretly dating. It’s shit and honestly, a good laugh, but not that serious. 

“It’s fine.” I cross my arms instinctively, “I thought you were mad at me.” 

Lando rolls his eyes and when he looks back at me, I can feel the shift in the air. “Don’t tell me you’ve missed the flirting.”

“No!” I say a bit louder than necessary, “It’s just- your fans have noticed.” 

He’s grinning now, stepping closer. “My fans?”

I need to shut up. I turn sharply and start walking away, “Bye, Norris.” 

I can hear the smile in his voice. “Beat me today, Sev!”

I don't beat him. I give him some pressure on the last five laps- but Lando Norris wins Monaco and looks absolutely fucking beautiful while doing it. 

It reminds me of Miami- he can’t stop smiling. 

Me, Lando, and Oscar walk off the podium still laughing. Lando picks me up suddenly, his arms around my waist and making me scream. He shakes out his hair onto me- not as if it matters considering I'm soaked in just as much champagne as he is. 

“Put me d- Awh the back says your guys’ names in cursive! You look like you’re getting married!” I laugh. 

“I will keep you in air jail if you keep talking shit about our suits.”

He keeps me trapped against him until we get to the bottom of the stairs. Oscar gives me a look which distracts me so when Lando sets me down, I almost fall. 

His hand grabs my waist, my suit unzipped and his skin far too close to touching mine. “I’m not talking shit. The white looks good.”

He grins. “Did you just say I look good?” 

I roll my eyes, “I take it back, I want you to avoid me again.” I push him away, his touch leaving me while he smiles. 

“You’re a horrible liar.” He nudges my arm, “Come on, admit it. You missed me.”

I scoff, “I did not!” 

“Then why did you beg me to talk to you again?” 

“I did not beg you-”

“You can admit it, Sev. You’re in love with me. That’s okay! We can date in secret and watch our ship edits in bed with our dog.” 

My jaw actually drops. He’s ridiculous. “Our dog?” 

He points at me, walking away backwards while his PR manager says something to him. “You being shocked about the animal and not everything else I said tells me all I need to know!” 

⋆༺

“You can’t be tired!” Carlos snaps his fingers in front of my face, “You’re supposed to be the young one!” 

I can’t believe they’ve managed to drag me out to a club. Sure, I like to party- but not during a triple header! I’m partially discouraged from going because almost every guy brought their girlfriend and Lando won’t be there to keep my single ass company. 

The moment I think I want Lando with me is the same moment that I grab Alexandra and Rebecca, dragging them to the dance floor much to the dismay of their boyfriends. 

We laugh and sing and swing our hips until they are dragged away by said boyfriends. 

“Our queen!” Alex laughs when I pass him and Carlos, who bows. 

Franco is all up on some girl which makes me promptly turn around and head to the bar. “Just a water, thanks.” I say to the bartender. 

“Nothing stronger?” Someone says next to me. He’s the definition of tall, dark and handsome. 

I fake a laugh, trying to be polite at the obvious attempt to start talking to me. “Nope.”

“Can I get you something?” He asks, turning towards me now.

My smile falters, “Waters free.” 

He holds up his drink, swirling it around in the glass before holding it under my nose. I almost gag, tapping the counter and wondering where my water is. 

“Come on, let loose!” He laughs and I suddenly hate how close he is to me.  “Have you ever had a gin and tonic?” I’m immediately forced back to the memory of why my hatred of gin started. Yes, Max Verstappen is to blame. 

“She hates gin.” The voice doesn’t make me roll my eyes like usual, in fact, a wave of relief washes over me. 

His arm slips around my shoulders, looking up at the man who frowns at the sight of Lando. 

The bartender finally hands me my water. “Sorry mate- didn’t know she belonged to you.” 

Lando eyes him up and down, disgusted at his words, “Fuck off.” 

He leaves with a quick, uncomfortable, smile. Lando turns to me, his arm still around me and pulling us close. “Nice skirt.”

“Nice attitude. You’re good at faking the whole protective thing.” 

He smirks, “Faking?”

“I thought you were at the princes dinner, winner.” His nose scrunches at the last word. 

“It’s one in the morning, sev. Royalty doesn’t stay up that late- well, except for you.” He winks and my heart speeds up, the bartender sliding him a drink to match mine. 

“Couldn’t miss out on the party?” 

“Well, I heard you were here and couldn’t resist.” He shrugs, his arm falling from my shoulder to grab his water. “Anyone drunk yet?” 

“No but i’m pretty sure Franco is fucking a girl at our table…” This makes him laugh and once again, i’m reminded how lucky I am to even be around him, “Do you want to dance?” I say it fast, like maybe if it’s quick then he won’t hear me. 

He does. He looks surprised but not ready to risk me saying no. Taking my hand, Lando downs the rest of his water and pulls me onto the dance floor. 

I’m not drunk. I haven’t even had a sip of anything- but I feel like I'm fucking floating with him. 

We dance for a while- too long, probably. I end up back with Daniel and Oscar at the table, drinking water and laughing with them. 

Carlos joins us after I sit and I don’t think before saying, “Do you where Lando is?” I don’t miss the look that Oscar and Daniel share, I just chose to ignore it. 

Carlos just shrugs, “He went home with some girl.” 

⋆༺

I always forget how hard triple headers hit me until I’m woken up by Daniel because I fell asleep in my driver room. 

Spain is much hotter than Monaco, more crowded too. The fans here are insane and I absolutely love it. I’m scheduled for a press conference with Lando and Esteban, something i’m almost late for because of my impromptu nap. 

I sit on the side, Esteban in the middle of Lando and I. I sit through every boring question they ask Esteban and every irrelevant question they ask Lando. 

One question is finally directed at me, “Do you think your lack of wins is due to the space being dominated by men?” My heart races immediately. I hate getting asked these questions obviously but in front of a million cameras and the other drivers, it’s even worse. “We’ve seen you get emotional on track- you really believe you’ll be able to beat someone so mentally tough like say, Max or Oscar?” 

I’m not embarrassed now, just angry. The moderator tries to cut in, along with Esteban and Lando, but I get there first. “I’m not emotional, I just love my sport. Along with every other driver on the grid who shares everything with me except for the fact that they have something between their legs-”

I swear I hear Lando laugh. 

“As for the lack of wins, I'd like you to try and go up against the current top three drivers in the world who have cars and years of experience to back them.” I shift in my seat, sitting up with my mic closer to my lips, “In other words, I have my seat due to the same reason that will win me races someday soon. I wasn’t a diversity hire, I am the best for the job, unlike you who clearly needs to go back and learn how to ask appropriate questions.”  

Everyone is silent, the man who said the question is staring at me. I know my cheeks are red and despite my confident rant, I feel like I want to cry. 

Lando’s the first to speak, “Can we get him out of here?”

Lando’s waiting for me when I leave the conference room. Leaning against the opposite wall, his water bottle in hand and his ankles crossed. He stands up straight when he sees me, “Hey!” I start walking down the hallway, needing to just get out of there. He follows. 

“You handled that really well.” I mumble a thanks in response, staring at my feet as we walk, “He was a dickhead. You ripped him a new one though I'm really impressed- Like really, I’m proud of you!”

I stop walking before we walk out the door, turning to him and wrapping my arms around the man. It takes a second before he’s hugging me back, his hand slipping to my back. 

I take a deep breath. Lando smells like mint shampoo and something sweet, pulling me tighter to him. He feels like relief. 

“Are you okay?” He backs up a bit, keeping his hands on me. 

I nod, “Thank you.” 

He scrunches his nose, “For what?” 

“You’re a really good friend, Lan.”

He drops his hands after I call him a friend, slipping them into his pockets. God he looks too good for friendship- hat backwards with curls peaking out, his nose scar perfectly across his nose. Why are scars so hot!?

“So are you.” He says hesitantly.

I scramble for something to say- any topic would do, honestly. I just need him to stop looking at me like that. “You know, I was left to dance with Franco the other night.” 

He sways on his heels, “Couldn’t have been that bad, you’ve done it before.”  

“Hope it was worth it.” 

His eyes narrow, “Hope what was worth it?” 

“She. The girl you left with.”

He smiles- actually smiles! It’s heartbreaking, too pretty for this world. “Who told you that?” My heart drops. “Are you jealous or something?” 

“What! No!” I’m going to kill Carlos. 

He laughs, “Horrible liar, sev.”

“I am not jealous.” I scoff, “You’re the jealous one… Fuck off I probably have to go do crisis management for my little spiel.” I flip him off as I walk away. 

He shakes his head, walking the opposite way as me, I’m about to turn the corner when he says it, “Sev! For the record, no girl is worth more than you are.”

⋆༺

Oscar Piastri. 

Lando Norris. 

Me. 

Our qualifying lineup for the Spanish grand prix. 

Starting behind two mclarens- starting behind Lando! I’m in for a hell of a race. All I can do is pray for a miracle and trust myself. 

I do trust myself, I trust myself when I send it at the restart, passing Lando. I trust myself in the last three laps, shaving my proximity to Oscar down. 

I trust myself when, during the last lap- I pass him. It’s risky and for a second I'm scared that I could get a penalty… but then, there’s no one in front of me. 

The checkered flag is all I see and suddenly my race engineer is yelling in my ear and I think I'm crying. 

The second I get out of the car, I'm bombarded with people around me. Everyone’s congratulating me at once, Lewis high-fiving me at the same time Yuki pats my back. 

Everything is the perfect about of overwhelming, Oscar hugging me, Carlos screaming while Ollie pulls his phone out to video. 

My team embraces me with a million arm pats and tears, Daniel kisses my cheek before hugging me, whispering how well I did. 

I don’t see Lando until the cooldown room. We’re the first ones there and he scoops me up as if I weigh nothing. 

It’s different than our hug the other day- we’re both grinning ear to ear and when he tells me how proud he is of me, again, I tug him closer. 

I pull away first. “You beat me. Is this something I'm gonna have to get used to or…?” I laugh and push him away when Oscar enters. 

“Get a room.” He mumbles. 

“We’re in one.” Lando rolls his eyes, unzipping his suit. 

 Oscar frowns, “I’m not keen to join.” I laugh harder. 

⋆༺

We go to dinner. Not the club or a bar, a proper nice dinner with everyone I love in my life. My grid. 

I sit in between Daniel and Lando, eating Pasta and laughing way too hard for this nice restaurant. 

At some point, one of the rookies starts talking dating and we immediately fall into a rabbit hole of everyone’s dating life. 

“What about you Lando? Is that playboy reputation real?” Kimi asks, making Lando laugh and shake his head- yeah right. 

“I don’t really date…” He shrugs, “but I'm not a slut.”

I can’t hold in my laugh, “Right.”

“Right, what?” 

“The whole of Monaco has seen your-”  

“I need air.” Is all he says, standing up and walking right out the door. 

I look around, the table quiet and tension thick. 

“What’d I say?” No one answers, “Lando does date. Right?” 

They all either mumble something or shake their head. “Hello…? Am I missing something? Why wouldn’t Lando date?”

It’s Franco who says it. “It’s probably because Lando’s been in love with you for years and you still think it’s some joke.”

I didn’t think it was possible for this table to get even more uncomfortable. Yet here we are. 

Pierre hits Franco in the back of the head, they’re all staring at me. Expecting me to do something. 

I put my fork down, standing up and leaving the way Lando did. There’s no way… Sure I knew he had a crush but he still hooked up with other girls! Whenever I dated, which wasn’t often, he’d send a glare to the man but left us alone. 

Love? Lando Norris is not in love with me. 

I rush out the door, seeing Lando standing in the hot night air, “I need to know why you did all of it.”

He turns around, surprised to see me, apparently. “All of what-”

“The flirting! The comments! Everything! Lando- You can’t actually like me.” I can’t breathe. 

He makes me wait an agonizing two seconds, his mouth parted as he meets my eyes. “Why else would I do it, Sev?” His voice is soft and it reminds me that he’s never raised it at me. 

“But you… you were joking.” The look he gives me right there… like he’s shocked I could ever think that, I’ll never forget it. 

He breathes out, shaking his head like it physically hurts him to say, “I’m not stupid, sev… I know you don’t fancy me. Maybe some of the shit I said was in a joking way but I've never taken it back.”

I pause, getting madder by the second. “You are stupid. You teased me and flirted and basically wasted all of your energy on wanting me.” He doesn’t look hurt, just like he’s accepted it. “You can’t just not date because of me! You started a million rumors just by the way you look at me! You told my mom when you were thirteen that you would marry me one day! God- Norris!” I huff, running my hands through my hair like a maniac. I look at him, swallowing. He’s so beautiful, how could he ever not chose someone because of me? “The worst bit is that you let yourself think that the reason you’re stupid is because you didn’t give up.”

He doesn’t even process what I've said, “You’re right. I’m an idiot.”

“No.” It’s almost a laugh. “I am. I’m an idiot for never seeing how much you actually cared. And for pretending like I didn’t feel the same.”

His eyes dart to me. “What?” It’s no more than a whisper. 

“I’m sorry for taking so much time- I think I really like you and I have for a while.” We both freeze, the only sound being our breaths and the faint voices from inside. 

“Please tell me I'm not dreaming.” He steps closer to me, his hands drifting over my hips as I laugh. 

I look up at him, “What would you do if it was a dream?” 

He’s shaking his head now, “I’d never wake up.” And then he’s kissing me. Soft, careful… like I might break. 

I grab his face and hold him tight. I’m never letting go of him now. 

“This is the best day of my life.” I mumble into the kiss, making him laugh, “Beat Lando Norris and kissed him, save the date.” 

He pushes a strand of hair out of my face, “Took you long enough.” Lando winks before kissing me again. I can’t believe I never knew what he tasted like, how perfect he feels against me. 

He glances back to the door, “Ready?” 

“To get ruthlessly teased? Sure.” 

He takes my hand in his, “Worth it.”

When we walk back in, all Lando has to say is, “Don’t say a fucking thing.” They’re quiet for a moment, surprising us both, but then the whole table erupts in laughter and cheers. My family.

[dyingswanpavlova]

Lessons to be learned

Pairing: Nam-gyu × Reader

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Restraints, Edging (More like Withdrawal of Release), Fingering, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex, Degradation Kink, Implied Manipulation, Minors Do Not Interact!

Author's Note: I'm not sure what the hell this is. Probably porn with little plot. I fucking hate Nam-gyu and I hate that I like him.

Nam-gyu is testing you "in order to see if you really belong to him", but it's mostly him being cruel.

"You doin' okay over there, huh?"

Your eyes fluttered shut and you took a slow breath to keep yourself from...

Fuck, there wasn't much you could do anyway, right?

The motherfucker was right there, only a few steps away, scrolling dumbly on his phone. And you? You were there.

Legs spread to a nearly inhumane degree, your mouth dry by the pair of panties he'd forced inside. Every part of you was aching - in pain, in humiliation, in rage...but mostly in need. He had been doing this for hours now and you were slowly going insane.

You muffled out a response and only then heard him smirk.

"Right." He mubled in amusement. "Probably not."

A treacherous, pleading sound came over your lips before you could stop it. They felt chapped, like sandpaper and all you really wanted was to lick your lips.

Or, well, punch his gut.

"Okay, okay. We'll give it another try."

He set his phone down and lunged forward. His weight pressed you down into the mattress even more than the binds, the screech of the slat frame barely audible compared to your needy moan.

"Who do you belong to?"

He wasn't gentle. And he sure as hell wasn't merciful.

No, he pressed two fingers against your core and pushed them inside almost immediately, but there was no resistance anyway - you were dripping.

"You." You muffled out desperately. "Mhpf...Belong to you-"

He pumped his fingers faster, harder, stretching you so cruelly, you were sure you wouldn't survive this night if it continued on like this.

"I didn't quite catch that." He whispered menacingly, before he sharply withdrew his hand.

You whined needily and tried to arch into his touch, but he was just out of reach - and he wasn't a man for half-assed restraints.

"Please-" Your chapped lips somehow formed.

He smirked. That fucking bastard.

"Please what? Please fuck me? Please lick my pussy? Please leave me here to rot all night? Use your words, you dumb little slut."

Your face flushed in embarrassment and anger, but you forgot about it, the second he pressed his hips down against your own. Instead, you moaned - as expected.

You couldn't tell how long you'd been in this position, how many times he brought you to the edge and left you there, begging, whining, all but sobbing. You had never felt this desperate in your entire life. The ache between your legs was slowly killing you.

It meant something to him, you knew that. He didn't trust easily, not anyone, not even you. He needed to test you, to push you, to drive you to madness and still have you. Still see you. And maybe then, maybe when you were good for him just a little longer, if you were truly ready to endure whatever he did to you...Maybe then he would finally realize that he was indeed lovable.

Loved.

You knew how messed up it was to even think like that, but what else could you do? You were in love and he was an idiot. A blind one, at that. Burnt one too many times.

"Please." You croaked out somehow. "Please...fuck...fuck me."

He bared his teeth in a predatory grin.

"You don't know what you're asking for, baby."

The sound of his pants being unzipped and the rustling of the fabric falling to his ankles was enough to make your heart stop beating. You needed to come so bad. But what you needed even more than that was him.

You didn't struggle when he pushed himself inside you. The low moan on his lips was enough to make your skin tingle, your insides squirm.

He was no man for gentleness. So, you didn't protest when he began to fuck into you like a beast in heat. You just moaned. Closed your eyes. And begged.

Oh, you'd feel him for the next few days. But you couldn't bring yourself to care. You needed him. You needed release.

You felt it approach faster than you thought. Being kept on edge for hours was a cruel endeavour and being so close to the damn-well-needed release was even worse.

Because, just seconds before you felt yourself tip over the edge with you arching your back and moaning against the material in your mouth, he stopped.

As expected.

You gasped and tried to move your hips but it was futile. He was still inside you, still so incredibly close to your sweet spot, but he refused to move. You closed your eyes in your frustration, but his firm grip on your jaw forced you to look up at him.

"That's right. Now that's a good girl if I've ever seen one." He smiled and it almost looked genuine.

He leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss against your forehead.

Almost loving.

Almost.

"Don't worry, baby. We'll take it one day at a time."

It might have sounded reassuring from any other man, in any other situation.

Yet you couldn't help but feel the dread creep into your bones.

You understood it now.

This was only the beginning.

[tegabyte]

Inquire within!

I'm trying to keep this low enough impact that I can accomplish them. I can sketch fairly quick enough, even if it's a full body (though that DOES take me longer), and I think I can manage this.

Feel free to peruse my art tags and see if I can draw for you.

Some other notes under a read more because I talk a lot:

I can be contacted via tumblr askbox, at the least, and I can contact you for more discussion via DMs after that. I also have a discord, and if I actually have a density of commission requests I can make a discord server to invite you into for more conversation. (I have several servers, admittedly, including one for artists/creatives, but it might be rude to clutter those with commission talk.) If you must reach out to me somewhere else, I have a bluesky or you can email me (ageofzero@live.com)

I have a ko-fi for payment, or paypal. I've used the latter more often and I can figure out the invoice thing if that's your preference.

I'm a primarily humanform artist. I can do human +wings, perhaps horns, or a mermaid tail, but I typically draw humankind and human shapes. I'm not set up to be a furry artist, and I want to be able to work faster than having to figure out animal shapes on the fly would allow me. I might be willing to draw a small animal companion with your character of choice, but that's a big maybe.

I know I wrote the vague "portrait" up there in the image, and I stand by that, but I realized that could also include things like video game avatars, and (variable)-sonas (trollsonas, for example). Still in the human limits, but with additional fun involved.

I'm pretty mild across the board as far as internet users go, and I forgot to write it on the image itself, but I won't do heavy gore stuff either. Blood and wounds are okay, that's fairly mild, but I won't draw guts spilling out or severe eye damage or stuff like that. That's probably not in the purview of sketch commissions anyway, but I would rather not have to deal with gore.

I will give you a quote if we have to negotiate additional details that'll cost more than my base price before I get started, and you're free to say that you can't commission me if you want at that point. No hard feelings, I get that money's tight across the board. I'm trying to find the bridge between making it worthwhile for what I'm offering and also making it reasonable for me to earn the bare amount of what I need.

I'm okay with drawing your ship of choice if you're willing to pay for it and give me a little more time to work out the positioning of characters. hand holding is hard, haha. I won't draw lolicon/shotacon, and I still won't draw sex, but we can talk around what else there is.

I'm not up to doing a fully rendered/fully colored commission right now, I haven't had a good track record with going through the full process digitally. Unless we have a really compelling discussion and I get paid real good, or I do it traditionally after that discussion, that's not something I'm offering fully.

I will send you the commissioner the full size png when I'm all done, but I'll post a smaller tumblr-size jpg on my blog, after payment is received. Unless you'd rather otherwise, in which case we'll talk about it and I'm willing to leave it unposted. You're not allowed to post it yourself or use it (as an avatar for example) without proper credit to me, and DEFINITELY you're not allowed to feed it to some image generating "AI" dataset.

I will offer these in traditional options (pencils and micron pens), but I can't stream the process on discord.

I don't have a formal contract to offer anyone, and I don't wanna figure out a google forms thing. My conditions are fairly reasonable and within my means, I think. Don't post my art or give it to AI, you don't get the image until I've gotten paid.

I think that's it? I hope that's it, I've been out of the game for a whiiiile.

...this is a top tier Genesis I've drawn for this commission post tbh

[intrikatie]

Unofficial

Han x Reader

🔞Minors DNI

✰ Pairing: Secret Boyfriend Han Jisung x Fem Reader ✰ Genre: SMUT ✰ Info: MxF, Unprotected Sex, oral and fingering (f receiving) VERY body positive Jisung

Word count: 3000

You're not official.

That is the unspoken rule—the invisible contract sealed in silence the moment you let yourself fall for Han Jisung.

He is an idol. Your idol, technically. A title you hold in secret, worn like a second skin you aren’t allowed to show. Because idols don’t date. Not publicly. Not proudly. And definitely not an unknown fan like you. There could be no slip-ups. No couple selfies, no shared playlists that gave too much away, no glances held too long in rooms with too many eyes. The world had to believe he was single, free, and entirely unattached—like his heart didn’t already beat faster at the sound of your voice. Like it didn’t already belong to you.

You're backstage after the concert, your lanyard sticky against your skin and your nerves frayed thin. The pass says All Access. What does that even mean when you're still locked out of his spotlight? Friends and family of the other members fill the room—laughing, hugging, chatting like this is just another night. Just another show. Like the world hadn’t tilted on its axis just minutes ago when Jisung stood under those lights and poured his soul into lyrics you know were written with you in mind.

You smile at the other real friends. The real family members. Awkward. Too polite. Like an extra in someone else’s memory. You’re not technically either of those things—friend, family—but Jisung got you the pass anyway. He said it was fine. That no one would ask questions. But the pass feels heavy. A lie laminated in longing and looped around your neck.

What if someone asks? What are you meant to say? You’re not friends. You know your heart couldn’t handle telling that lie.

You're orbiting unfamiliar territory. Desperate not to be the mistake that ruins it all.

You’re trying not to fidget too much. But your hands idly drum an awkward little ditty on the thighs of your jeans as you scan a table filled with snacks and beverages, fruits and cakes. 

Cake. Cake. Cake. 

"Y/N?"

Jisung stands before you, still dressed in his last stage outfit—skin-tight and leaving very little to the imagination. The top is a black-and-red photo print, the collar sitting just below his Adam’s apple. And, because he apparently isn’t tempting enough, he’s wearing leather trousers.

"Oh," you say, your speech slowed by the saliva pooling under your tongue. "Hi."

"I thought you might be lurking awkwardly near the snack table."

You let out a breath of laughter, more surprise than amusement. “It’s your favourite spot, isn’t it? You like sweet things, and the chocolate cake looks nice.”

He hums, tongue dampening his bottom lip before he bites on it. “Come with me.”

You follow him before you can think to question it, steps quick to match his long strides as he weaves through a hallway lined with half-closed doors and leftover energy. He nods at people—staff, probably— with the confidence of someone who belongs.The backstage noise fades into a low hum behind you.

Then Jisung opens a door, holding it for you to enter. You duck beneath his arm.

The door clicks shut.

And the world falls still.

For a moment, Jisung doesn’t move.

His fingers twitch at his sides. He clears his throat. “Uh… hey.”

It’s so adorably awkward—like he hasn’t just sung his heart out in front of twenty thousand people. Like you’re the one stage he can’t quite perform on.

You glance around the room, looking for something to ground you. It’s surprisingly… bleak. No frills. Just magnolia-painted breeze block walls and a couple of Stray Kids posters—obviously put up to try and brighten the place. Muted voices and equipment hum beyond the thick walls.

A rack of clothing lines one side of the room, stage outfits hung in perfect rows, each one carefully labelled. It’s nothing like the stage had been. No lights. No magic. Just raw and unfiltered. A small fridge hums in one corner, low and steady. Jisung’s guitar leans in the other, propped beside a balled-up sleeping bag like it’s been there for days. A low sofa stretches along the back wall, cushions slightly misshapen from use. Opposite, a long counter holds a clutter of makeup wipes, water bottles, and backstage debris. A vanity mirror sits above it, rimmed with warm bulbs—some flickering faintly like they’re as tired as the rest of the room.

“Not very glamorous, is it?” Jisung follows your gaze, scratching the back of his neck. “We don’t always get a private space like this,” he says. “Usually, we’re in one giant room—over forty people. Makeup artists, stylists, staff, managers. Like a beehive with no sense of personal space.” He shrugs. “It’s nice to have this. Somewhere we can come to… just relax for a bit. This is about as private as it gets.”

You nod slowly, letting that sink in. It’s not much, but it’s yours, for now. You turn your back to the room stepping closer to Jisung who inhales as you draw nearer. Your hand reaches past him, for the lock on the door. You both exhale when you hear the soft snick. 

As private as it gets, just got a tiny bit more private.

When you look up at him—he’s really looking at you this time. Eyes wide, searching. A little dazed.

“You look good,” he says, voice soft. “I’ve missed you.”

Something in you breaks open.

You close the distance before he can overthink it—before you can, too.

Fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, you lean in and kiss him. 

And Jisung—your sweet, startled Jisung—melts.

Your kiss deepens with every second—slow, then quicker, then breathless like you’ve both been waiting for this moment far too long.

He sighs into your mouth, and the sound is everything—sweet, soft, needy. You chase it, press closer, fingers curling tighter in the fabric of his shirt as he steps forward. Then again. His hand skims your waist, then clenches gently like he’s grounding himself as he continues stepping you backward until your shoulders hit the line of clothes behind you, soft fabric muffling the impact. You let out a startled sound, half-gasp, half-giggle, laughing against his lips.

The rack creaks softly behind you as he steals another kiss—then another—like the air between you isn’t enough. Like the clothes on your backs are a tragedy. Like if you don’t touch him more, now, you might actually explode.

He senses it, the same moment you do. The way the laughter quietens, replaced by soft gasps and cut off moans. Your fingers abandoning soft caresses for pressing, pulling. His hands are everywhere—palming your shoulders, your waist, your hips—until you’re flush against him. No space. No holding back. He tugs at the lanyard around your neck and it snaps, falling to the floor.

The weight of the lie falls with it. Out there, you're unofficial—here, you're his everything.

You find the zip at the back of his stage shirt, hovering a second, wondering if this is really going where you think it is, where you want it to go. Jisung doesn’t answer with words, instead, his hands slide under your own shirt, unhooking your bra. Okay, this is definitely going there.

You unzip his shirt, stepping back so he can free his arms. You let the back of your knuckles brush down the tattoo on his side as Jisung strips you of your shirt and bra. 

He pulls you closer, chest against chest. Softness against hardness. 

His hands are on you again—roaming, like he’s making up for all the hours, days, months he’s had to pretend he didn’t crave your skin. Fingers trace your sides, your spine, your ribs like they’re holy. His palms are gentle and desperate all at once—pressing, pulling, learning.

“You’re killing me,” he murmurs, voice wrecked, lips ghosting over your collarbone as his hands smooth down your back, thumbs carving slow lines into your hips. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

You groan. Just sound. Just heat.

He leans in and kisses you again—not pretty now. It’s teeth and tongue and breath, his hands in your hair, gripping your thighs, guiding your body against him with a rhythm that says now. Now. Now.

You roll your hips forward pressing against his hard length and he groans, loud and guttural, his head falling forward to rest against your chest. As his fingers fumble with the button of your jeans. You help him push them down, shimmying out of them. Before helping Jisung remove his own trousers. It’s a stage outfit, designed to pull on and off easily. Thank goodness.

He reaches behind you, fingers kneading into the soft fat of your arse. 

“You feel—fuck, you feel so good.”

Then his hands slip under your thighs and lift, guiding you onto the vanity itself. You gasp at the cold press of it against your skin, but he’s already there, between your legs, kissing down your neck, across your chest, hands sliding up your back to pull you closer.

There’s nothing shy in him now. Just reverence.

He pulls back to look at you—really look at you—like he wants to burn this into memory. You, half-undone under the mirror lights. You, lips kiss-swollen, chest rising and falling like you’ve run a marathon. You, reaching for him with trembling fingers and fire in your eyes.

His voice is low. “You’re perfect.”

You sigh—God, you remember the first time he said that to you. The first morning you woke up beside him, blinking against the light, convinced it had all been a dream. You’d pinched him hard, rousing him with a startled yelp.

“What was that for?” he’d laughed, rubbing the spot.

“Are you real?” you asked. “Really real?”

He’d pinched you back—harder—making you squeal. Then he’d rolled on top of you and proved it, mouth and hands and breath making promises he still hasn’t broken. Whispering how perfect you were, over and over again.

You bite your lip against the memory, warmth blooming up your throat. Even now—months later—having Jisung standing here, looking at you like that, still doesn’t feel real.

You press the tips of your fingers into your palms. Reminding yourself. This is actually happening. Again. 

You pull him into another kiss, slow this time, filthy and deep, your hands buried in his hair, your thighs locking around his waist. You want him closer. Want to feel every inch of him.

Jisung’s eyes darken deliciously, and his hand slides between your bodies. When he touches you—finally, finally—you cry out, head thrown back, hands scrambling for anything to hold onto.

He works you with precision. With a patience that shouldn’t exist—not after how long he’s waited—but it’s laced with something deeper. Adoration. He wants to watch you fall apart for him. Like he wants to earn it.

He kisses the column of your throat, then lower, his mouth lingering—open, wet—at your breasts, your stomach. You involuntarily tense as his nose brushes the softness there. He glances up, one brow arched in a silent scold.

“You’re perfect,” he tells you, taking his time to kiss around your belly button. Then he shifts lower, tracing the silver-white stretch marks at your hips with his lips, then his tongue, his free hand kneading the flesh of your thigh. “My perfect—tiger-striped—perfect girl.”

You exhale, praise and reassurance flooding through you, dizzying and warm. It takes you a moment to realise—he’s sinking to his knees.

You brace yourself, breath stuttering as Jisung removes his fingers from inside you, to curl around the backs of your thighs and tug you forward—closer, open, right to the edge. His breath ghosts over bare skin as he looks up at you—eyes blown wide with hunger, lips parted, reverent.

“Been thinking about this,” he murmurs, voice low and filthy sweet, “since the second I saw you at that damn snack table.”

And then—

Oh.

His tongue drags slow and deliberate, tasting you like he’s starved—like he’s found salvation between your thighs. One hand spreads you wider while the other anchors on your hip, holding you in place when your knees twitch from the sheer intensity of it. He’s ravenous but methodical—tongue stroking through your folds, slow at first, savouring. Then deeper. Wetter. 

You gasp his name. A plea. A warning. A prayer.

Jisung groans against you, and it vibrates deep, rolling up your spine like a live wire.

You can’t breathe. You can’t think. All you can do is hold onto his shoulders while he ruins you—mouth and tongue working in sinful, practiced rhythm. He finds that perfect angle and stays there, relentless, moaning into you like your pleasure is his oxygen.

You arch with a choked moan, hips canting, and he grins against you.

Your thighs tremble, heels digging into his shoulders as he brings you to the brink—over and over, just to feel you shake around him.

The whole vanity trembles under the weight of it. You, breathless. Him, possessed. Your spine meets the mirror behind you as your hand tangles in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan—he likes it, fuck, he loves it, and he doubles down, sucking and licking with dizzying focus until your hips buck and your body shakes and all you can do is cry out his name your release so overpowering you think the mirror at your back might crack from the sheer force of it. 

He doesn't stop. Not until you're trembling, thighs quaking around his shoulders, chest heaving under the vanity lights like you’ve been set on fire.

And when he finally pulls back, chin slick, lips glistening, he looks wrecked.

You reach for him—pulling, needing—and he rises from his knees with a smirk, tongue flicking at the corner of his lips before he catches your mouth in a kiss that tastes like you. His hands are everywhere—gripping, stroking, grounding you as the world tilts.

You’re aching to feel him. To take all of him—finally, fully.

Your breath comes in quick bursts, but your eyes are steady on his. You want him to know.

This is it. This is the moment.

The head of his cock presses against your entrance, and his eyes meet yours, searching, asking if you're ready.

And you don’t hesitate.

“Jisung,” you breathe, the sound of his name a plea, a prayer, a promise.

His lips find yours again, hungry now—deep, slow, as if he’s savouring every moment before the plunge. Gripping your hips, with one fluid motion, he enters you.

You gasp at the sensation, every inch of him a perfect fit—full, deep, and impossibly real. He pauses, his forehead resting against yours, both of you still for a moment, feeling the weight of it. The weight of him.

You want to move, to take him in, to make this moment last forever—but you’re trembling, your body still adjusting to the feeling of him filling you completely.

“God,” Jisung breathes, his voice low, a tremor of something unspoken in it. His hands tighten around you, pulling you against him as his hips begin to move—slow, deliberate, as if he’s both giving you everything you need and taking what he needs from you.

You meet him with the same desperation, moving beneath him, grinding against him with every stroke, every shift, as if you can’t get close enough. You feel him inside you, feel every inch of him, and the world narrows to just the two of you. There’s no past, no future—just this moment, just this connection.

Each thrust is an exchange, a balance of what you want and what he craves. His pace picks up, but it’s never rushed, never frantic—it’s all-consuming, and every movement drives you to the edge. You feel yourself tightening, your body aching for its second release.

“Fuck,” Jisung groans, his hands gripping your hips, his chest pressed to yours, his breath hot against your ear. “You feel so fucking good. I can’t—” His words falter, replaced by a low growl as he shifts deeper, pushing you further into the moment.

Your body tightens in response, every nerve set alight. His rhythm, his power, his presence—it's overwhelming. You’re falling apart beneath him, shattering in the best way.

He shifts, ever so slightly, and the change of angle drives you crazy. Hitting that perfect spot that has you gasping, moaning his name like a mantra.

Jisung’s eyes find yours, dark and wild with need, with something more. Something you don’t have words for.

“Close,” you whisper, your hands scrambling for purchase on his shoulders, his chest, anywhere you can hold him, pull him in deeper. It’s not just his movements undoing you—it’s the effort of holding back. Of not clawing, not marking, not claiming. But God, you want to. 

His pace quickens, relentless now, and with every movement, he’s giving you more of him. Everything of him. You’re right there.

Right on the edge.

So fucking close.

And then his teeth scrape against your neck.

The world goes white.

You shatter.

The rush of your orgasm hits—uncontained, all-consuming. You cry out, the sound too loud, too raw. Jisung’s lips crash against yours, swallowing your moans as your hands grip his skin, your body trembling, every muscle clenching. Your pulse thunders in your ears, and nothing exists beyond the stretch of him inside you—the world blurred into heat and light and Jisung’s voice, “Perfect. So fucking perfect.”

Jisung doesn’t stop. He keeps moving through your release, his own breath ragged, his body tensing. And then, just as you feel your body begin to ease into the aftershocks of your pleasure, he groans your name, thrusting deep one last time before he follows you over the edge.

He collapses boneless against you. Both of you breathless. Your bodies entangled—exhausted, spent, but full.

You hold him close, your chest still rising and falling with the weight of the moment, and you press your lips to his, soft and slow.

Then he pinches you, hard. 

“OW!”

He grins against your mouth. “Just checking.”

♡ If you made it this far, thank you so much for your support!

♡ please consider leaving a comment, like or reblog. I love hearing your thoughts!!

♡ ©2025Intrikatie

[shmpxx]

THIS IS JUST TRAINING — g.s

⛤ gojo satoru x fem! reader

Perverted gojo is just teaching you some things.

cw. smut. oral (m. receiving). corruption. masturbation. toy usage. inexperienced reader. pussyjob. fingering. petnames (angel, sweetheart, baby) public sex. dirty talk. pervert gojo. age gap. 18+!

wc: 1.2k

Gojo was your superior since you were the youngest out of the sorcerer teachings in the school. You still needed a little help to get around and Gojo would be gladly to help you if you asked for it. In return you would have to do everything he says, if he needed a cup of coffee or deliver his messages for him and let him know if anything, like you were his little apprentice. You didn’t mind even when you had a crush of him and he knew that, who wouldn’t? how could he not take advantage of that? He had all the power that he could do whatever he pleased since your quite naive.

He saw you as someone who had no idea what she was getting herself into, being utterly perverted when he had asked “have you ever masturbated before?” You became flustered and nodded yes looking down to avoid his gaze, fiddling with your top and he just smirks at your reaction. “What do you do? Does it feel good?” “I use my fingers…but I don’t think I’m doing it right..” how pure you are this tempts him even more, exciting him, leaving him with a shit grin on his face. “Probably because your fingers are too small, I would love to help you with that, think of it as training” “training?”

His two fingers shoved deep into your hole and you let out a choked sound, his fingers reached farther than your fingers ever did and it was a stretch. You were bent over on a desk and you were on the tip of your toes when his fingers curled and rubbed at the right spot that made you let out a whine. “Wow your pussy is so tight around my fingers” he says steadily bringing his fingers in and out of your hole. “Ah! Gojo..mpffh please” he leans down to you and hums “please? You want me to go faster?” And you nod with a whimper. You moan when he starts thrusting his fingers faster, rubbing at your walls. His thumb strokes your clit when he reaches back inside. Your ass desperately moving against his fingers for more when your clit starts to ache and your lower stomach builds up a knotting sensation. “Wait-ah! Gojo I feel something!” You gasp

“Y’er about to orgasm sweetheart” it was a strange feeling. You’ve done it before but you never reached an big O that Gojo is bringing you.

Your pussy making beautiful sounds and your walls sucking in his fingers. Gojo turns his fingers, his palm facing upwards and his fingers reaching deeper. You covered your mouth refusing to let out any more high pitched moans when you would put it as you’re about to explode. “Aw sweet angel” he coos, his fingers repeatedly shoving inside you knowingly you were gonna cream over his fingers and you did, your cunt tightens fascinatingly around his digits and he smiles watching you tremble and the electrifying feeling coursing through your body. “Now you know what a intense orgasm feels like yeah?”

Gojo becoming more and more disgusting and indulged with you, he was shaped like the devil on your shoulder when he would have naughty conversations with you that you try to hold with him without getting embarrassed. “Do we have to talk about it now? It’s just-“ “but i wanna know how good it felt? It felt good didn’t it?” You flustered self couldn’t answer but nod your head yes “see you don’t have to do it yourself from now but anyway..have you ever tried a toy?”

He would love to watch you sit and struggle to hold a vibrator to your own clit he had bought you and wanted to be entertained to see you pleasure yourself and correct you on certain things like “press it harder” or “hold it higher” when you can’t take it wanting to close your legs he would frown having to spread your legs back open for him to see clearly “come on..you have to keep them open for me to see, how else am I supposed to know y’er doing it right baby?” He wants to see your pretty clit twitch and every angle he can get of your open cunt.

When its rush hour on a subway train he would make sure you were squeezed between the doors behind your back and against his chest, his arms on each side so people aren’t crushing you and he reaches under your skirt to push your panties to the side and slips his cock right between your folds and through your thighs. You would gasp and Gojo would press his finger at your lips to quiet you “things like this don’t just happen behind closed doors, you have to learn how to keep quiet, you don’t want people to see you doing such indecent acts in public do you?” his cock is rubbing your clit and the outside of your wet cunt and you started to soak his dick from each drag on your clit turning puffy. You would grit your teeth and your fingers dig into his shirt. He would smile of course, like always. In your thoughts he was just evil, his tip nudging your clit and spreading your folds, you can feel his veins on his girth swiping across your core. He’s going faster until your creaming over his cock.

He sees how far you can take him into your mouth. His fingers under your chin and making you look up at him with tears coming down your face when you struggle to not gag awfully with his cock down your throat. He’s just teaching you how to take big dick in your mouth, how to focus on the tip importantly and keep your hands wrapped around his cock at all times, make sure your not using teeth. Your drooling from your lips because he hasn’t given you a break, his dick just settling on the top of your tongue while also slowly thrusting his hips in your mouth.

“Use your tongue more..lick around it-just like that..fuck y’er so pretty with my dick in your mouth” he’s caressing your cheek and wiping your tears with his thumb. “Wrap your lips now” he tells you and you do it. His hand on your cheek now travels to the back of your neck to motion you to bob your head on it. You follow through with his rhythm beginning to do it on your own but your hands fall to his thighs, more tears begin to stream down your face and your heavily breathing through your nose for air. cum shoots down your tongue and Gojo squeezes your cheeks with his large hand looking down at you. “Don’t wanna waste it now, swallow it”

Gojo finally rewarding you with his cock, your laid on the mattress on your chest and your legs hang off the bed and hips in the air. You were too embarrassed to look behind you yet you were too impatient and whiny, trying to press your leg’s together and your hips messily wigging and squirming waiting for Gojo to bottom you out. “You want my cock that badly? Y’er so adorable” his hand gliding down your back sending you shivers. “Remember this is just training”

[floweringlee]

Come to my Office Max Verstappen X Reader

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Warnings: Fingering, oral (m&f receiving), biting, shaming, degrading, probably a lot more that I forgot to name.

Word Count: 4.4k 

Notes: This is my first time writing smut like this and it took me a bit of courage to even post this so enjoy

Max Verstappen always had his eye on you. How could he not? You were one of the most precious jewels he had ever laid eyes on. He wouldn’t admit that out loud, of course. Not to anyone else besides himself anyway. Granted, he never had to admit it because everyone already knew. To him, you were his precious little wallflower that no one else could touch, blissfully unaware that he’d been watching you. Stalking you like prey. The last person who even thought about looking in your direction hadn’t shown up to work the next day. They claimed Red Bull wasn’t the right fit for them anymore.

You hummed softly as you wrote down the next meeting details in your notebook, its cover adorned with stickers, a chaotic mix of stars, planets, and little motivational quotes. Your boss was going on about Max’s next performances in the upcoming races, but you barely heard the words. Your mind was elsewhere. Specifically, it was drawn to the man sitting across the room, just a few desks away.

Max’s voice, smooth and controlled as ever, had a way of drawing you in. He was speaking to someone, probably another colleague but you couldn’t help the way your gaze drifted toward him. He was wearing his usual aloof expression, the one that seemed like it could slice through steel, but you knew better. Beneath it all, he had a quiet intensity, one that he only ever showed to those who had earned his trust. And somehow, over the past year, you had earned it.

You had always been diligent when it came to watching him. It was hard not to think Max had an aura about him, a magnetic pull that drew attention without even trying. But what kept you captivated wasn’t just his undeniable charm or his talents on the track. It was the way he treated you. So kind, so considerate. The little things like when he brought you lunch, or those unexpected gifts. He would never say much, but the actions spoke volumes.

Today was no different. As you glanced up from your papers, your eyes met his, and for a brief moment, you saw a flicker of something deeper in his gaze. It was gone almost as quickly as it came, replaced by the confident exterior he wore like a second skin. But that brief second… it lingered with you.

A soft chuckle from across the room broke your reverie. You blinked, startled, and turned back to your notes. Had he just laughed? Or had you imagined it? You quickly jotted down the next point your boss had mentioned, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that Max’s attention was still on you. A warmth spread through your chest, making your heart race just a little faster.

Your boss rambled on, but you were barely listening anymore. Instead, you were aware of the small shifts in the room, the subtle way Max moved, the way his eyes sometimes darted in your direction when he thought no one was looking. It was all so deliberate, so calculated. And yet, it felt so effortless. How could you not notice him?

He knew exactly how to make his presence felt without saying a word. The way he stood with an air of confidence, but never too imposing. The way he’d lean in when speaking to you, always making sure he was just a little closer than necessary. You weren’t blind; you had noticed the way his gaze lingered when you’d speak, the soft smile that would tug at the corner of his lips when you made a joke or said something witty. He’d always play it off as nothing, but you saw the truth in it. Max Verstappen was interested in you.

After the meeting ended, you found yourself packing up your things with more urgency than necessary. You didn’t want to leave, not really. But you had a feeling something might happen if you stuck around too long. You gathered your notes and slipped them into your bag, all the while trying to ignore the heat radiating from your face. There was no reason to be so flustered. It was just Max, after all.

Except… it wasn’t just Max. It was Max, and his unspoken attention, and the way he made you feel like the only person in the room, even when you weren’t the one he was talking to. It was the soft pressure of his gaze, the way his hands seemed to brush against yours just a little too often when handing you something, the way his smile seemed to hold a thousand unspoken words.

“Heading out?” The sound of his voice made you jump, your heart stuttering for a moment. You looked up to find him standing right next to your desk, his expression unreadable, but the flicker of something in his eyes made your stomach flip.

“Uh, yeah,” you stammered, feeling your palms start to sweat. “Just… finishing up some notes.”

Max raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at the edges of his mouth. “You know,” he said, leaning casually against the edge of your desk, “you’ve been working really hard lately. Maybe you could use a little break.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone. He wasn’t making a suggestion; he was making an offer. Something unspoken passed between the two of you, a kind of tension that seemed to thicken the air.

“What do you mean?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Max’s smirk deepened, and before you could react, he pulled a small bag from his pocket and placed it on your desk. “A little treat,” he said, his voice low and almost teasing. “Thought you could use it after a long day.”

You stared at the bag in disbelief for a moment before opening it carefully. Inside, you found a small selection of your favorite chocolates, the ones you’d mentioned in passing months ago during a lunch break.

“I… Max, you didn’t have to,” you whispered, touched by the gesture.

He shrugged, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “I wanted to. And besides,” he added, his voice dropping for just the two of you two hear, “You can always make it up to me after this meeting.” His breath fanned across your ear, and the look he gave you told you more than enough about what he meant. 

A thousand thoughts rushed through your mind in that instant, but none of them made it past the lump in your throat. You wanted to say something, anything, but all you could manage was a small nod, fearing that if you moved your legs would give out underneath you. Max gave you a knowing smile, his eyes flickering with something that made your chest tighten. He slipped a small paper into your purse before giving you one last look. 

As he turned to leave, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. Something had shifted between the two of you, something subtle but undeniable. And as you watched him walk away, your thoughts began to swirl, the questions you had about Max Verstappen suddenly seeming a lot more complicated than they had before.

But for now, you could only watch him go, knowing that whatever happened next, you were no longer the only one who had been keeping a secret.

Slowly reaching into your bag, took the cool white paper into your fingers. Your hands shook with just a bit of anticipation as you unfolded it, staring at the letters that stuck on your mind for the next hour. 

“Come to my office after the last meeting of the day.”

When everyone had cleared out of the office and your nerves had begun to get the best of you. There was a churning feeling in your stomach that had been bubbling up as you anxiously made your way to Maxs office. When you’d actually reached the door your feet seemed to stop in place, stopping you in time. 

“Are you going to just keep standing outside of my door keeping me waiting?” 

You jolted from your spot, shakily reaching for the doorhandle, pulling it open. Max was there, in a casual button up, his tie loosely hanging around his neck.  A rush of warmth flooded your cheeks as you fumbled to close the door behind you. The moment he locked eyes with you, a wave of something hot and unsettling washed over you. His gaze lingered, unhurried, as if he was cataloging every detail of your reaction. There was a silence between you, thick and heavy, filled with so many unspoken words.

"You took your time," Max said, his voice low, his lips curling into a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was an edge to his tone, something teasing but with a subtle undertone of command.

“I—” you stammered, then cleared your throat, trying to regain some semblance of control. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—"

Max cut you off before you could finish, his gaze flickering with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. "No need to apologize," he said, his voice almost too smooth. “You’ve been busy today, haven’t you?”

You nodded, following his broad body as he walked toward you then, his movements deliberate, almost predatory. Every step he took seemed to draw you in, until he was standing mere inches away. The space between you felt impossibly small, and you could feel the heat radiating off of him. You swallowed hard, trying to steady your nerves, but his presence was overwhelming in the best way.

Max tilted his head slightly, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as his eyes never left yours except when it was to flickering to look at your face.

"Do you know why I asked you to come here?" His voice was softer now, a whisper of curiosity underlined with something else, something dangerous that made your heart race.

You shook your head, unable to trust your voice. It was as if the words were trapped inside your chest, stuck behind a wall of uncertainty. Was he teasing you? Or was there something more to his request?

Max’s smile widened slightly, sensing your unease. "You’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of his words. "What do you mean?"

He took another step closer, and you could feel the air around you growing heavier, charged with something electric. “I’ve noticed,” he said, his voice low, almost like a confession. “You’re always polite, always professional. But there’s a distance between us. Like you’re… keeping something from me.”

Your throat went dry. Was he referring to the way you always made sure to keep things strictly professional with him? To the way you tried to mask the strange feelings he stirred in you? To the fact that you had spent months trying to ignore the undeniable chemistry between you, pretending it didn’t exist?

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words failed you. Max watched you closely, his eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and something more primal.

He stepped closer again, his proximity now impossible to ignore. You could feel the heat from his body seeping into your skin. His hand reached out, almost casually, brushing against yours. The simple touch sent a shock through your system, your pulse quickening in response.

“Don’t be nervous,” he murmured, his voice now hushed, intimate. "I’m not going to bite."

But the way he said it the glint in his eyes, the subtle weight behind his words told you that maybe he would, in a way that you couldn't quite predict. A delicious chill ran down your spine, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, mesmerized. His next words seemed to buzz right to your cunt. 

“Unless….you want me to?”

A small whimper sounded in your throat that didn't go unnoticed by the older man. His hands trailed up your sides that made you squirm in your spot, not daring to look away fearing that if you did he’d disappear in the moment. 

“Sit down, Schat”

You blinked, heart racing as your body obeyed his command before your mind could catch up. Every nerve in your body screamed for you to turn and walk away, but something inside you, the same part that had always been drawn to him, even from the first moment you'd met compelled you to stay, setting a fiery feeling throughout your body. 

He smirked when he saw the look on your face, it was one of innocence and surprise. You weren't a virgin by any means, but no other man had ever taken the time to care about you. Not like this.

You could feel your heart hammering in your chest as you watched him, waiting for him to tell you what to do. He had moved and was sitting with his legs spread leaning against his office chair, his hand running along his clothed thigh. Your eyes followed his hands movements and he chuckled darkly at how obvious your interest was.

"You're going to take off your clothes for me" He hummed, a smile forming on his face.

At first, it shocked you l, but you knew were this was going the moment you’d read that note. Part of you wanted to maintain your professionalism while the other fought desperately to crawl out of the cage you locked her in. And right now— she was winning. Your hands were shaking as you tried to pull your shirt over your head. You fumbled with the fabric for a few seconds before you were able to slip it off, tossing it onto the floor.

Max's eyes were burning into yours as you removed the rest of your clothing, leaving you standing in front of him in nothing but your underwear. You could feel his gaze lingering on every inch of exposed skin and goosebumps rose along your body.

His eyes were dark as they raked over you, drinking in the sight before him. He was completely still, other than the twitch of his fingers, the only thing giving away his impatience.

"Come here." His voice was commanding, deep, sending a shiver up your spine.

For a second we were unable to move, frozen in place, but you quickly scampered towards him, the cold making your nipples perk up against the now burning feeling that was spreading throughout your body. 

"Take off your underwear."

Your breath hitched as you obeyed. It wasn't until the fabric slid down your legs and onto the floor that you realized he was staring directly between your legs, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. You felt a harsh blush spread across your cheeks. If he wanted to stare at you so bad he should have just said so to begin with. Still the entire situation had left you drenched, feeling a bit of your slick rub against your inner thighs. 

"Turn around."

Again, your body moved without thought, spinning so you were facing away from him.

"Bend over."

Your pulse spiked. You bent forward, feeling his hands caress the backs of your thighs, moving up to squeeze the globes of your ass. You moaned quietly as he spread you apart, exposing your most intimate area.

"Look at you, already so wet for me. Are you aching, bloem? Is it throbbing?" He asked, his voice low and husky, almost a growl. There was something primal with the way he was speaking to you. His breath fanning across your back makes you shiver in the process. 

"Y-yes." You breathed quietly, just enough for him to be able to hear. 

"Good girl."

He leaned in, pressing his lips to your core, dragging his tongue up the length of you.

"Mmm," He moaned, "You taste even better than I imagined…."

He pushed two fingers into you, curling them just right to hit your g-spot, drawing out a cry from your lips. You could feel his smirk against your flesh as he pumped his fingers in and out of you.

"So tight." He murmured.

Your legs began to tremble as he increased the speed of his ministrations, your eyes rolling back in pleasure. The sound that filled the room was far from innocent as your moans ripped through the thick sex filled air. 

"That's it," He whispered, "You sound so pretty for me."

The stubble of his mustache scraped against your cunt electing a whine from you. Max's fingers twisted and turned in your gummy walls paired with his skilled tongue was doing wonders for you as you helplessly grinded against his face to be best if your ability from your compromising position. You could feel him chuckle against your clit before you felt a sharp pinch in the bundle of nerves. You squeaked in surprise from both pain and pleasure before your walls clenched around him and you let out a scream, your arms finally giving out on the table,  breathing hard. You were still recovering from the aftershocks of your orgasm that Max had been slurping up easing with small kitten licked when you felt a hand on the back of your neck, pulling you up.

"Get on your knees" his eyes were hazed as he spoke. Your eyes widened as you were guided off the table, slowly kneeling in front of him. 

"Open." His voice was final and you opened your mouth and he pushed his fingers into you, making sure that you got a good taste of yourself. Slowly you swirl your tongue around each of his digits making sure to clean them off, maintaining eye contact with the Dutchman the entire time making him groan as he watched you.  

His length strained against his slacks taking up more than enough space in their confined environment. You looked up at him with innocent, pleading eyes, and he raised an eyebrow at you expectantly. Just as eagerly you reached up to undo his belt tugging both his pants and boxers down in one go. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him. His cock was long and thick, and already hard. Precum was beading at the tip, begging for your attention. You but your lip, wondering if maybe you’d bit off more than you could chew. 

His movements were swift with how he grabbed your face, giving you no time to think since his fingers pressed in the back of your jaw, making it slack open. 

“Now be a good girl and suck.”

You took him into your hand, wrapping your fingers around him and stroked his shaft slowly, twisting your wrist slightly as you did. He let out a low moan, closing his eyes and leaning back, giving you full access to him.

You leaned in, swirling your tongue around the head, tasting the salty liquid, before taking him into your mouth. His hands immediately tangled themselves in your hair, tugging on the strands as you bobbed your head, sucking him eagerly.

"That's it, fuck yeah….such a pretty little mouth for me.."

You hollowed out your cheeks, increasing the suction around his shaft, drawing more moans from his lips. You quite enjoyed the look on his face as his eyebrows scrunches together as he tried to keep his cool. You flicked your tongue on the underside of his length, occasionally pressing him to the back of your throat teasingly. You could tell he was getting close, his hips starting to thrust upwards, fucking into your mouth. 

You let out a surprised muffle when the makeshift ponytail he had made with your hair was pressed down rather harshly, making you gag in his length. 

"Fucking hell." He hissed, tightening his grip on your hair.

You relaxed your jaw and took him deeper, swallowing him completely, earning a growl from his throat. You could feel him swell in your mouth and his hips stuttered as his orgasm hit.

“Fucking swallow it all, baby. Swallow my cum." He panted.

You swallowed every drop, savoring the taste of him. Making sure to lick up anything you might have missed for good measure. His cock still twitched eagerly and as Max was still catching his breath when he spoke again.

"On the couch, lie on your back"

You quickly climbed onto the sofa, lying down. He leaned over you, brushing his lips against yours, making your breath hitch. His eyes were hooded as he looked down at you as your lips locked in a sloppy kiss that was more teeth than kiss but it didn’t matter. 

“Should mark you.” He was muttering under his breath. “Make sure they know what’s mine.”

As if on queue you felt a sharp pain on the side of your neck that quickly melted to pleasure causing you to moan. 

"Would you like that, Schat?"

On a normal basis if you had been thinking you would have said no, but the look he was giving you and you said otherwise. The thought of everyone staring at you with marks littered by Max makes your pussy gape around nothing, waiting to be filled. 

“Please Max?” You whimpered, bucking your hips up lightly in response which made him chuckle. “You’re so naughty for someone so innocent.” With that, he’d made his journey to leave bites and hickeys across your body, leaving no part untouched. 

His mouth had started on your neck, biting and licking afterwards as if to sooth it before moving onto his next spot to ruin. Max teeth dug into your skin in a way that seemed like they were supposed to fit. His hands cupped your breast giving them a tough squeeze, a moan leaving your mouth. 

“Fuck you’re gorgeous..” he breathed, staring down at you before taking a nipple in his mouth sucking harsh l his tongue twirling circles around the bud before releasing it with a pop that made you shudder.  If you’d started to notice anything it was how Max certainly wasn’t going easy on you. Almost a second later your point was proven when you felt a pinch to your tit, making you squeal. His eyes looked up at you as if to say ‘sorry’ but it certainly didn’t stop him from repeating the treatment to you other mound of flesh. 

Your thighs rubbed together in impatience, your own slick spreading more and more. When the kisses had reached your stomach you felt him lift himself up, making your previously closed eyes snap open.

"I'm gonna fuck you, and you're going to take it.” Max's voice was calm but the wild look in his eyes betrayed everything that he was saying. 

"Yes…Max.”

“Good.” The words seemed final. You gasped when you felt his tip pressed against your swollen cunt, slowly slipping in. Your hands wrapped and his back, placing them firmly but not enough to scratch him, that was until you felt him push the rest of himself in you with one thrust. Your previous slick made it easy for him to intrude your gummy walls feeling full in an instant. Your nails dug into his back as you let out a moan that mixed with Max’s grunt. 

"Jesus Christ, you're so tight. Such a good girl." he grunted, his grip tightened on your hips as he guided you down onto him. You moaned embarrassingly louder than you’d like to admit when the head of his cock brushed against your cervix. Your pussy spasmed involuntarily the deeper he got. 

"Look at you, so eager for me, Schat. Do you like it when I fuck you?"

"Yes, Max!" You cried, your walls clenching around him as he rutted into you. Your shameless cries filled the empty area, and you quickly covered your mouth to hide the sounds. 

“No, Y/N I want to hear you,” Max's hand curled around your wrist, prying your hand away from your mouth to let your moans fall. You raised your hips and bucked them, quickly grinding against him. His hands gripped your hips, surely leaving bruises later.  You started to move faster, rocking against him, taking him deeper with each thrust. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes, as he pistoned into you, sending jolts down your spine. 

“Who knew that my pretty little wallflower could sound like such a dirty little slut.” he teased, slowly dragging his fingers across your body.  You moaned as his fingers found your clit, rubbing it roughly.

"You're so beautiful, Schat." He murmured before flipping you over, your bodies still connected so he could see your face. “All that mascara running down your face. You look absolutely ruined for me.” 

Max seemed mesmerized at the way your perky tits bounced with each thrust he made, shaking the couch with his movements— not that he cared much about that anyway. The coil in your stomach was getting tighter and tighter, your muscles clenching around him, causing him to groan.

“That's it baby, cum all over my cock.” his encouragement only seemed to spur the burning feeling in your stomach, and with the addition of how his fingers were skillfully working on your clit, feeling the stimulation from his fingers, his pace, and now the sharp bites on your shoulder was enough to edge you into coming undone, the pressure exploding making you shake with a loud cry. Your pussy clenched down on his length engaging him in our walls doing exactly as you were told. His thrusts became more frantic and you knew he was close, "Oh god, yes, Max!" You cried, feeling the rush of your orgasm hit you. He followed suit, growling out a string of dutch words as he came, filling you completely.

“You’re going to keep every last drop.” Max whispered into your ear, steadily continuing to thrust into you, making sure his cum was stuffed well in your cunt. You whimpred a bit from the overstimulation but made no move to stop him from his goal.  

He was still panting heavily as he pulled out of you, watching the white liquid drip from your entrance, coating his length. Quickly he’d moved to reach for your discarded panties, returning to your spent body tsking under his breath as the white liquid spilled out of your body. His thick fingers gathered up the secretion, stuffing it right back inside your puffy cunt making your body jolt, a broken moan falling from your lips. Max only chuckled at your response, slipping your panties back on before placing a light kiss at your sensitive entrance. 

“You did so well for me, Schat. Same time tomorrow?” 

You were already nodding yes. 

[yunaversalluv]

★﹐Harder Than You Think．﹗﹑

Rivals to lovers abby x fem!reader

note - if you see any mistakes in the fic please feel free to tell me i'll go and fix it!! (this was not proofread by someone esle) This is also more short and sweet type one shot so i apologize if its cliche

If you want to join my personal taglist let me know!!

permanent taglist - @valeisaslut @sourrswitchblade @sewithinsouls

You knew from the moment she walked into the compound that she’d be trouble.

Abby Anderson. Towering. Scarred. Broad-shouldered and broad-tempered. She looked like she could punch through a brick wall — and probably had. You’d heard the rumors before she even opened her mouth. Ex-WLF. Trained killer. Real piece of work. A human battering ram with a resting bitch face and a reputation.

You didn’t care.

You’d seen worse.

But the minute she challenged you during your first training session together — called your grip on a blade “sloppy” with that infuriating calm — it was over. She made you want to spit fire. Or win. Or both.

“I didn’t realize muscle mass was a personality trait,” you snapped, flipping your knife and tossing it hard into the wooden post.

It landed just left of center. Shit.

Abby smirked. One of those closed-mouth grins that felt more like a dare than a smile. She stepped up beside you, her own blade out. Thicker. Balanced.

She threw.

Dead center.

“Didn’t realize ego could bleed so fast,” she said, retrieving both knives without waiting for permission.

You hated her.

Not really.

But enough to make it your daily goal to beat her at something. Anything. Knife throws. Sparring drills. Food ration speed. Scavenging haul count. Hell, you once nearly started a bet on who could carry more bricks before collapsing.

She never gloated. That made it worse.

She just gave you that look. The quiet, knowing one. Like she knew you were trying too hard and loved it anyway.

That pissed you off more than losing.

The outpost wasn’t big. A few dozen survivors, max. Some were old Fireflies. Some ex-Scars. Most were just people trying to survive. They didn’t care where you came from, so long as you pulled your weight and didn’t start fights.

You and Abby were toeing that line daily.

She was stronger, sure. But you were faster. Sharper. Smarter in tight quarters.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

The real problem was that you worked well together.

Too well.

No one else could keep up with your rhythm. No one else could cover your blind spots as smoothly. And no one else had the guts to call you out when you were being reckless, except her.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed one day rushing in like that,” she said once after you cleared a runner nest.

“Better than sitting back while someone else bleeds,” you snapped, chest heaving.

She didn’t yell. Didn’t flinch.

Just took a breath and said, “I’m not your enemy.”

You laughed in her face. “Could’ve fooled me.”

But your stomach twisted, because part of you didn’t believe that anymore.

Part of you wanted her to keep saying things like that.

Keep seeing you.

Keep trying.

They paired you for patrol again.

Third time this week. Either fate was cruel or Manny was playing matchmaker in the most passive-aggressive way possible. You made a mental note to punch him later. If Abby didn’t beat you to it.

The morning fog clung low to the ground as you moved through the forest edge. Pines overhead. Muck underfoot. Every sound was amplified in the silence — twigs snapping, boots squelching, the whisper of your breath in cold air.

Abby walked ahead, quiet as ever, movements fluid. Tactical. Annoyingly competent.

“Try not to fall behind this time,” she said without looking back.

You rolled your eyes. “Try not to be a condescending asshole for once.”

She didn’t stop. Just tossed over her shoulder, “Still bleeding from that sparring match, huh?”

You clenched your jaw. She’d pinned you yesterday in front of half the camp. Quick and clean. No flair. Just efficiency. It had haunted you all night.

“Still milking that one victory?” you shot back.

Now she turned. Slow. One brow raised. “You think I keep track?”

“Don’t you?”

Her eyes narrowed a little. Not angry. Just studying. Then she stepped closer. Not much. Just enough to make your pulse spike.

“Only when it matters,” she said.

Your breath caught. That tone again. Not a threat. A challenge. An invitation.

You stared at her, words dried up in your throat. Close enough to smell pine and sweat and something warm beneath it. Close enough to see the scar above her eyebrow. The way her lashes clumped at the ends.

Your fingers itched.

To touch. To push. To test.

She tilted her head slightly. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said, stepping back before you could do something stupid. “Let’s just finish this patrol.”

Coward, you thought.

But you didn’t know if you meant her.

Or yourself.

The sky cracked open the moment you reached the outer perimeter.

Rain came fast — heavy and loud, drenching your jacket in seconds. Abby cursed behind you, voice low, as the two of you ducked beneath the skeletal remains of an old carport. Rusted steel. Sagging beams. But shelter, for now.

You both stood there, panting, water running down your faces, your sleeves clinging to your skin.

“Well,” you said, brushing soaked hair from your eyes, “at least we don’t have to pretend to like the view anymore.”

Abby let out a sharp exhale — maybe a laugh, maybe just annoyance. She pulled off her backpack and set it down between you.

“We’re not moving until this slows down,” she said.

“No shit,” you muttered, crouching.

Minutes passed. Then more.

The silence stretched, punctuated only by thunder and the slow drip of water through rust holes above. You didn’t look at her. You were too aware of how close she was. Of the way her knees brushed yours when she shifted. Of the steam rising off her skin.

Eventually, she broke it.

“You always this reckless?”

You turned your head slowly. “You always this judgmental?”

She didn’t rise to it.

“I meant it,” she said. “Back in the nest. I’m not your enemy.”

“I know.”

The words surprised you both. But they were true.

You looked down at your hands. Mud under your nails. Scar on your thumb. A tremble in your fingers that wasn’t from the cold.

“I just don’t like losing,” you added, quieter this time.

Abby studied you. “Neither do I.”

You looked up.

And there it was again — that tension. Not anger. Not even rivalry.

Just heat. Like you’d been circling something dangerous without naming it.

Outside, lightning flashed. A jagged line across the grey.

Inside, something cracked open.

And this time, neither of you looked away.

The rain didn’t let up. Not really. Just softened into a steady drizzle by the time you headed back. Everything squelched. Your boots. Her boots. The path. The space between you.

You should’ve said something.

But what the hell would you even say?

That you kept catching yourself staring? That her voice stuck in your chest like a splinter you couldn’t dig out? That you didn’t just want to win anymore — you wanted her to see you.

The thought made you angrier than it should’ve.

Back at camp, the world was dim with dusk and mist. You split without speaking, without looking. Abby peeled off toward the barracks. You went straight for the showers.

You scrubbed hard.

Like you could wash off the way she looked at you.

The way your skin burned under it.

Later that night, you found her in the common room. Hood up. Elbows on knees. Staring into a fire that had long since gone to embers.

You didn’t know why you walked in.

Didn’t know why you sat beside her.

But you did.

Neither of you spoke for a long time.

Finally, she said, “You always got something to prove?”

You stiffened. “You always gotta ask questions with knives in ‘em?”

She didn’t laugh. Just leaned back against the bench.

“I used to think being strong was the same as being right,” she said.

You turned to her. “And now?”

She looked at you then — not just glanced. Really looked.

“Now I think being right doesn’t mean much when no one wants to stand next to you.”

You swallowed hard.

“I don’t hate you, you know,” you said, quieter than you meant.

“Yeah,” Abby said. “I know.”

She didn’t say anything else.

Didn’t need to.

Because the space between you wasn’t empty anymore.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough — for now.

She was fast.

Not just in combat — though she moved like she had something to prove, something to outrun. No, she was fast in every way that mattered. With comebacks. With fury. With the way her eyes flashed like a struck match every time she turned them on Abby.

Abby told herself it was annoying.

That twitch in her gut? Just adrenaline. Old habits. A leftover instinct to win.

But she kept watching. Kept cataloguing the curve of her lip when she smirked, the stubborn set of her jaw, the way her fingers always flexed twice before throwing a knife — like it was muscle memory, or a tick she didn’t know she had.

She noticed too much.

And that meant something dangerous was creeping in.

Abby leaned against the doorframe of the armory that night, fingers tapping absently against the edge of the holster strapped to her thigh. She watched the flicker of firelight across the campyard. She knew she should sleep.

But her body was still humming. From the patrol. From the rain. From her.

She’d been close enough to smell her shampoo — citrus and gunpowder — and it had done something stupid to Abby’s brain.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

She’d spent years sharpening herself into something unflinching. Something built. But this? This was messy. Sharp in the wrong ways. A thousand tiny cuts instead of one clean break.

She didn’t even know when it started.

Maybe it was the second time they sparred. Maybe it was the blood on her lip. The grin she gave Abby after she hit the mat. Or maybe it was earlier than that — when she first heard her laugh. Harsh and honest. Like she wasn’t trying to sound pretty, just real.

She didn’t trust it.

But she wanted it anyway.

“I’m not your enemy.”

She meant it.

But when she said it, and saw how the girl looked at her — chin up, eyes hard, like she’d rather die than be seen soft — Abby knew it wasn’t going to be that simple.

Because the truth was, she liked her.

More than liked her.

She respected her. Feared her a little, even — not for what she was capable of, but for what she made Abby feel. She was sharp and bright and unforgiving, and every time they talked, it felt like standing too close to a fire she had no business warming her hands by.

Abby clenched her jaw, swallowed thickly, and stared at the flame in the distance.

No one warned her that wanting something could hurt more than losing it.

But she knew now.

Because wanting her felt like grinding glass between her teeth and pretending it was sugar.

And still — Abby couldn’t stop coming back.

The dawn crept softly over the compound, casting pale gold across dew-slick grass and weathered wood. The world was quiet except for the distant crow of a crow and the steady rhythm of your own breath, puffing out in little clouds of white. You stood near the edge of the barracks, fingers twitching with nerves that felt alive beneath your skin.

Abby came into view from behind a rusted fence, her tall frame outlined by the early light. The damp strands of hair stuck to her neck, and the scar above her brow caught the glow, making it look almost like a silver slash. Her eyes, sharp and guarded as always, locked on yours. There was a softness there this time — a flicker of something almost shy.

“You’re up early,” she said, voice low and rough around the edges.

You shifted your weight, stepping forward a little, daring to close the distance you’d been circling for weeks. “Didn’t want to miss the sunrise,” you replied, your voice quieter than you expected.

Abby glanced up at the sky, streaked with pale pink and lavender clouds, then back at you, lips quirking with a small, knowing smile. “Figures. Always trying to catch something before it slips away.”

The space between you was charged, the cold air suddenly thick with heat and possibility. You could smell the faint tang of citrus soap mixed with earth and something distinctly her — sharp and grounding.

Your fingers itched to reach out, to touch that scar or catch a stray curl behind her ear. Instead, you swallowed the lump in your throat and spoke, “I’ve been thinking.”

Abby’s brow quirked. “That’s dangerous.”

You grinned, a little breathless. “Maybe. But sometimes, it’s worth the risk.”

She took a step closer, narrowing the gap until you could see every shade of green and gold in her eyes. Your pulse hammered in your ears.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” you admitted, voice steady but vulnerable. “Not with you. Not over this.”

Her gaze softened, vulnerability cracking the edges of her usual tough facade. “Neither do I.”

You looked down for a second, nerves twisting your gut. Then, slowly, you reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Your fingertips lingered against the rough skin of her cheek.

She leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

“I don’t want it to be complicated,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “Just… us.”

Abby swallowed, voice low and sincere. “Yeah. Just us.”

The silence between you was fragile and electric, stretched taut like a held breath.

Carefully, you closed the last few inches, lips meeting hers in a slow, tentative kiss — like tasting something fragile and precious for the first time. Her arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, the warmth of her body chasing away the morning chill.

When you pulled apart, breaths mingling, her smile was radiant and unguarded.

“Guess I’m glad you’re not my enemy,” she teased softly.

You laughed, heart light and full. “Maybe we’re better than that.”

The camp came to life around you—slow, quiet. Birds chirped, and distant voices floated through the mist. But you felt like you were in your own little world with Abby, fingers intertwined, sharing small smiles and gentle touches that said more than words.

At breakfast, she swiped a piece of your bread when you weren’t looking, flashing a mischievous grin.

“You’re lucky I’m too tired to chase you down,” she joked, voice playful but warm.

You smirked. “I’ll take my chances.”

Later, near the cracked training grounds where your rivalry first ignited, Abby pulled a knife from her belt and tossed it with effortless precision — the blade sinking dead center into the weathered target.

“Your turn,” she said, eyes glinting with challenge and something softer.

You took the knife she offered, feeling the familiar weight settle in your palm. Breathing steady, you aimed carefully, muscles tense but sure. The blade thudded into the target just a hair off center.

Abby clapped softly, eyes bright with pride. “Not bad.”

You grinned, feeling a rush that wasn’t about winning anymore — it was about this, about her.

She stepped closer, fingers brushing yours in a casual, electrifying touch.

“Want to go again?”

You nodded, heart pounding with a mix of nerves and joy.

The sun climbed higher, warming your skin, the earth around you glowing with new light. The walls you’d built around yourselves cracked open just enough to let something real slip through — something tender and fierce all at once.

You paused, breath hitching as Abby reached out to tuck a stray curl behind your ear, her hand lingering against your cheek like she didn’t want to let go. Her eyes searched yours, full of unspoken promises and quiet strength.

“You’re not so bad,” she murmured, a teasing smile curling at her lips.

You laughed softly, brushing your thumb over her scar with reverence. “Takes one to know one.”

She leaned in, voice dropping to a serious whisper. “We’ve both been fighting for so long. Maybe it’s time we stop.”

You nodded, heart full and steady. “Together.”

Abby’s grin softened, and she pulled you into another kiss — deeper, warmer, and brimming with all the things you’d both been too scared to say.

When you finally parted, her forehead rested against yours, breath mingling.

“No more enemies,” she whispered.

“No more fighting,” you agreed.

You wrapped your arms around her, holding her close as the morning light bathed you both in gentle gold.

For the first time in a long time, you believed it was real.

[ssentimentals]

Non idol soonyoung+51 meet ugly if it’s still available? I feel like he is THE member for this prompt😆 love your writing and I hope you’re doing well!🫶

hi anonie! ahaha i agree, soonyoung really fits this prompt very well :D thank you for being so sweet, i hope you're doing well too!

prompt: meet ugly/awkward first meetings

hoshi is not exactly a picture perfect gentleman, but he is a nice guy in general, just not in the moments when he's in a hurry for probably the most important interview in his life. so yes, he thinks he can be excused for acting a bit pretty and not letting pretty girl grab his taxi.

'i literally opened the door first,' you say, frowning.

'no and i'm in a hurry,' hoshi cuts out, holding the door from the other side.

'and you think i'm not?'

usually, hoshi is nice. in any other circumstance he'd let you have this cab and maybe he'd even try to get your number while doing it cause you are very pretty. but this is not a normal circumstance, so all he does is simply get in the car. what he did not expect, however, is you doing the same. 'what the-'

you huff, rolling your eyes. 'the sheer audacity! i wanted to be nice, but i can't be nice to guys who act like this. get out, i got here first.'

time is ticking and hoshi swears he's a nice guy, but: 'no, you get out.'

'no, you-'

'you both get out right now,' the driver speaks up, turning to both of you with the glare. 'who even let you in? i'm waiting for my client.'

'oh.'

hoshi instantly opens his uber, knowing full well that at this traffic his luck of getting in time is decreasing rapidly. hee notices how you start doing the same and shit, he can't let your car get faster than his- 'listen, i'm sorry, but i'm running late for my job interview and i really need to find a cab. can you order yours once i found mine?'

you are really pretty. even with displeasure written across your face, you are still really pretty. hoshi mentally slaps himself for getting distracted in the middle of your speech: '- and anyways, your lack of time management is not my problem, because i also have an important interview-'

'and you're late for it? so it's not only me with time management problems, huh?'

for a second you look like you're about to hit him but then familiar ping distracts you both - notifications that a car was assigned and is now on the way. awkward silence falls between you two; hoshi's nerves get the best of him and he barely stays still. 'so, what job interview?' he asks.

he needs to get his mind out of the gutter, because overthinking about his own interview makes him dizzy. you, however, don't look like you're eager to talk to him at all, judging by the way frown you send his way: 'really?'

'yeah, well, there's nothing else to do while we're waiting for the taxi,' hoshi says, not swayed by your tone. 'we can-'

'wait for the taxi in silence,' you cut off, turning away from him.

it stings, but by the way your shoulders are hunched and how tense your posture is, he knows that you actually need it too. you also need this distraction, need to focus on something else other than stressful situation ahead. and he is right because in few minutes you mutter reluctantly: 'it's in IT department. i've been waiting for this opportunity in a long time.'

hoshi nods. he can relate, because he's also been waiting for this opportunity in a long time and it's also in IT. he tells you as much, adding bit about countless sleepless nights spent studying all kinds of cases and questions that can be asked. the more he talks, the more you warm up to him until you both are standing not far, facing each other. cars in front of you almost don't move, stuck in a horrible traffic. 'maybe we can walk? think it'll be faster. you're planning to go to the city center, right?' hoshi turns to you, smiling. 'wanna walk together?'

you check your uber and sigh. 'yeah, let's go.'

smile suits you much more than the frown - this is what hoshi learns on your way to the building. you both walk in a hurried pace and when you turn at the same street as him, a suspicion starts to creep in. he doesn't voice it, because you also realize what's happening when you two stop in front the same building. 'no way,' you breathe out, looking at him with wide eyes. 'you are- wait. 8th floor?'

hoshi nods. he was told that it's going to be a group interview, but what are the odds- 'fate is a funny thing,' he mumbles, holding the door open for you.

you arch your eyebrow at him, trying not to smile. 'fate?'

hoshi grins. 'what else can you call it? we first fought over a taxi, then waited for ours to arrive only to both deciding to walk to end up at the same building, going to the same company for the same interview.'

you both enter the room with one minute to spare. there are two more guys inside and they greet you both with accusing glares. 'we're not late,' hoshi says defensively, taking a seat next to yours.

nerves come back full force once two senior managers come in and he tries to keep his voice steady as he introduces himself. he glances at you and his heart slows down a bit and nerves disappear, when you turn and whisper: 'good luck, you.'

hoshi can't help but smile. 'good luck, you.'

a/n: can this be considered as an awkward first meeting? :/ hopefully yes, let me know! - nini

request your own here

my other seventeen work is here

[aphroditeinthesea]

Hii!! I literally love sm of your writing it’s sooo good okie so my request is Leo Valdez x child of hades reader one shot (I was thinking gn or fem) where they both have huge crushes on eachother and are besties but when Leo confesses the reader feels they have too much emotional baggage (being a child of the big 3 and all) and like angst with lots of fluff so tysm and ofc feel free to not write this I totally understand, anyway byeeee

“ be my baby (i’ll look after you) ”

leo valdez x hades!reader (gn) 🔨

playing look after you by the fray

⚠️ smooching

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

“Hey,” you smiled, walking up to your best friend on the dock. He turned around, a smile trying to hide the nervousness in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, “yeah, I just wanted to talk to you about something?”

“Sure, okay,” you sat down by the water, hands nervously fidgeting with the rings on your fingers.

He sat alongside you, “uhm, so,” he took a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks, “how are you?”

You raised an eyebrow, “fine,” you spoke. You admired how the sun setting began to frame his curls, giving him the effect of a glowing aura.

He finally locked eyes with you, “this is probably stupid.”

“What? What's wrong?” you reached for his hand that had been sitting beside him. You tried to ignore your nerves telling you that it’ll give away all of your obvious feelings. Your feelings that you would rather die than confess. Leo was the most easy going, funniest person you knew, he didn't deserve that. Well, he didn't deserve you. So, as your heart beat faster, you just held his hand tighter.

He seemed to freeze at the contact. “Y/N,” he muttered. “Y/N, I have had kind of had feelings for you for a while now, and I just,” he bit his lip, “I needed to tell you.”

Your face dropped. “No, you don't." The words came without you knowing.

“What?”

You shook your head, pulling away your hand, “Leo, I, look, you're my best friend, and I love you, but,” love. Fuck.

He didn't catch on.

“I’m sorry, I needed to tell you, it was killing me.”

“I would kill you.”

“Huh?”

You stood up and began walking off. You just made it back onto the grass by the time he fully comprehended what just happened and began walking behind you.

“Y/N!” He felt a hole in his chest never like this before.

“Leave me alone, okay?” You called out.

Time stood still. You had an ache in your stomach. What was wrong with you? This guy you had been pining and longing for the whole time you’ve known him, and you just left?

He stood still, watching you walk away. He cursed himself for telling you anything. Of course, you wouldn't like him back. You were friends. That's all.

He walked back to his cabin, avoiding all eyes. Like anyone who saw him would know what an idiot he was.

You, however, ran into your cabin, slamming the door behind you. You fell flat on your bed, the tears already began to fall.

Of course, as anyone would, you screamed bloody murder into your pillow.

“What are you doing?”

You jolted up at the sound of your brother’s voice. “Sorry,” you wiped your cheek, “I thought you were still out.”

“I was supposed to be but there was an emergency at the infirmary so Will had to go,” he looked at your face, “what happened?”

“Leo, you know Leo,” you looked at the floor, “he likes me back.”

“Oh no?”

You let out a pathetic laugh, “yeah, oh no.”

“Did he say anything else?” Nico asked, genuine confusion on his face.

You nodded, “just that he has feelings for me,” you hugged your knees to your chest, “I didn't tell him how I feel.”

“Why not?”

You shook your head, “he doesn't," you choked out your words as the sobs began, “he should be with,” you took a breath with each word, “someone who’s not me.”

He sighed. He understood what you meant. It was something any child of the big three would feel. Scratch that. Any child of Hades would feel.

You looked up at his face. “What do I do?”

He shrugged, “I’ve seen how you act when he's around, y/n.”

Your shoulders slumped, “I know.”

“You should do what you want, but,” he leaned back, “if you don't tell him, you're just gonna hurt yourself even more.”

He was right. You thought about it really. You spent so much time wallowing in your self pity. First him not liking you back. But now that he does, you're still upset?

“Damn, Di Angelo,” you huffed, "you're actually right.”

“Why do you say that like I’m not usually?”

You chuckled, “I’m gonna go.” You stood up, walking towards the door. “Thanks.”

“Good luck,” your brother mentioned as you walked out.

You took a deep breath in as your feet touched the green grass. You looked around at the campers passing by, the Sun was nearly completely set. You exhaled as your feet moved towards cabin nine.

Your heart pounded. Your legs were shaking like you were trying to stay on a sinking boat. Your palms might as well have been the water.

You looked at the door in front of you.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

A shuffle was heard inside before, “come in.”

This was it. You turned the door knob. You finally peered in and looked around.

No Leo.

“Uhm,” you looked at his siblings, who exchanged confused glances.

“Leo’s not here,” one of his brothers spoke up.

“Right, yeah, okay.” You backed up out of the cabin. There was only one other place that came to your mind. You hurried through camp, looking for the boy.

After what felt like forever, with your mind clouded with thoughts, you found yourself at bunker nine.

He was standing outside of it, looking like he was leaving.

“Hi, Leo,” you cracked out.

He looked up, “hi, y/n.”

You stepped closer to him, "I'm sorry.”

He shook his head, "don't worry about it. I shouldn't have sprung that on you like that.”

“No, Leo, I mean,” you grabbed one of his hands, “I like you, too.”

He looked bewildered, “what?”

“I didn't tell you because I thought I wasn't good enough for you but,” you smiled, “I love you.”

“Are you serious?”

You took his face in your hands. You brought your lips to his. He gripped your waist to pull you closer.

“I’m kinda serious.”

He grinned, pulling you in for another kiss, “I love you, too,” he mumbled into your mouth.

You were glad the two of you were so deep in the woods. Because if anyone had walked by they would have seen two absolutely ridiculous teenagers kissing like they were never going to need oxygen again.

[havens-iphone]

── how mornings began ꫂৎ ; barista!megumi x reader

wc ⋮ 658

authors note ⋮ short lil story as an apology for going missing.. been lacking motivation💔💔✌️ BUT im back!! lmk if u catch my little how i met ur mother reference (im rewatching it for the 50th time heh) ANYEAYYY enjoy thehehehahah

you've just moved into a new town—stacks of unpacked boxes, mismatched set of utensils, and a quiet apartment that still smells like someone else. everything feels unfamiliar and quiet. a little too quiet for your liking.

you decide to take a walk, trying to get use to the new surroundings and environment. moving to a big city like new york was.. difficult to say the least. you were states apart from your family and knew absolutely nobody. lost in your own thoughts, your eyes drift across the street to a random coffee shop. you smile as you cross the street, hoping to meet new people in the shop.

you step inside, the air smells crisp and cinnamon-y. behind the counter is a guy with messy hair and a grin as if he already knows you.

you approach the counter, eyes browsing the menu. "first time here? he asks, not even waiting for you to speak.

you nod.

"then youre legally required to try the chocolate croissant. its in the town charter." he teased.

you laugh, maybe harder than you should, and order a chocolate croissant and a pumpkin spice latte. "i do love pastries. it better be legendary." he writes your name on the cup in careful block letters dotted with a smiley face at the end.

your eyes wander towards his name tag, megumi.

you thank him as you walk off, unable to wipe the stupid smile off of your face.

you start going there everyday—at first for the lattes, then for the way megumi teases and flirts with you. he remembers your name, the way you like your latte with oat milk, he remembers your love for pastries. he even starts recommending you pastries you never even knew you would enjoy.

it becomes routine. something your morning didnt feel right without.

then one rainy tuesday, he hands you your usual order. you peek at the neat writing on the cup. no smiley face just your name and beneath it, a text that reads,

"i cant stop thinking about you."

you pause, cup in hand, heart beating faster than ever. its subtle, sweet, undeniably him. by the time you look up, hes already taking the next order, pretending nothing happened.

you dont know what you'll say tomorrow, but you know you think about him just as often.

you spend the rest of your day thinking about that cup.

you tell yourself not to over analyze it, maybe he meant it in a friendly way—but you read the words again, carefully peeling the label off and sticking it on the cover of your notebook. just in case. just so you wont forget how it made you feel.

the next morning, you show up earlier than usual. the shop is quieter, just the low hum of indie music and the hiss of the espresso machine. megumi glances up, surprised—but only for a second.

he smiles like hes been expecting you anyway.

"youre early," he smiles warmly, already reaching for a cup.

"couldnt sleep," you reply. you dont need to tell him why.

he slides your drink towards you, same as always. no writing this time. just his hand lingering a second too long on your cup.

"about yesterday.." you begin, voice soft.

his smile falters—not in a bad way, more like hes bracing for something. you meet his eyes and suddenly youre not nervous anymore.

"i liked it," you say.

"the note."

a pause. the milk steamer hisses behind you like its holding its breath.

"yeah?" he says, and now hes not smiling. hes just watching you. really watching.

you nod. "i think about you too. probably more than i should."

that gets him. a quiet laugh, almost shy. his fingers drum the counter once.

“you could let me think about you properly,” he says.

“let me take you out?”

you smile as you bite your lip.

“tomorrow,” you say.

“and dont write it on a cup this time.”

[stewpidcheescatarinabluu]

Reserved for you.

Synopsis: A notorious troublemaker finds himself drawn to the quiet, brilliant girl who spends all her time in the library. What begins as an unexpected curiosity turns into a daily habit, a soft pull neither of them can explain. As rumors swirl and the campus watches their unlikely connection unfold, the chaos he once caused is slowly replaced by something gentler—something that just might be love.

Word Count: 2,569

You’ve always been known as the troublemaker—the one who sleeps in class like it’s part of the syllabus, pulls dumb pranks for laughs, and bombs tests without even trying. You’re loud, reckless, and honestly? Most teachers gave up on you a long time ago. Everyone at school knows your name… and not in a good way.

But one day, it changed.

You spotted her sitting in the library. Same spot every time. Hair tucked behind her ear, pen tapping against her notebook, eyes glued to the page like the world around her didn’t exist. She wasn’t like anyone else here. She looked like she actually belonged—like the school made sense to her.

You asked around for her name. Nobody gave it to you—probably trying to protect her. Fair enough. But you weren’t the type to give up. So you marched into the library the next day like it was your turf, plopped down across from her table, and grinned.

You hesitated a little, hands awkwardly stuffed in your pockets, before slowly walking up to her table. You stood there for a second, unsure what to say. Then blurted it out louder than you meant to:

“Hey!”

She looked up, startled, then confused. “Do I… know you?”

“Uh—n-nope,” you said quickly, laughing awkwardly. “I mean… maybe. I mean, probably not.”

She blinked. “Okay?”

You rubbed the back of your neck, voice a little quieter now. “I, uh… I’ve just seen you here a lot. And I was… curious? About you.”

She stared at you. You shifted on your feet.

“What’s your name?” you asked, trying not to sound like a creep. “I swear I’m not weird. I just… you looked cool. And smart. And I thought… maybe I could sit here?”

She tilted her head, almost smiling. “You want to sit… here?” “Only if that’s okay!” you said quickly. “I don’t really do the whole studying thing but, uh… maybe I could learn a little.” She finally gave a small smile. “It’s Ningning.” You sat down before she could change her mind.

Your heart was racing but you tried to play it cool—emphasis on tried. “…I’m Y/N,” you added after a second. “I’m kinda… bad at all this.” “I figured,” she said, eyes twinkling a little. “But you’re brave for showing up.”

“Brave? Nah,” you muttered. “Just… really wanted to talk to you.”

After the first interaction you two had, You started coming to the library more often—not for the books, not for the quiet, but for her. Ningning. She always sat in the same corner seat by the window, earbuds in, focus locked on her notes like nothing in the world could reach her.

At first, she didn’t even look up when you sat across from her. No greetings. No acknowledgment. Just her pen moving and the faint sound of music leaking from her earphones.

You’d try to start conversation anyway.

“So, uh… did you know they banned chicken nuggets in the cafeteria? Crazy, right?”

No response. She casually turned the volume up on her phone.

Undeterred, you kept going.

“I failed another math quiz today,” you said, leaning back in your chair with a sigh. “Think the teacher’s out to get me. Or maybe math just hates me.”

Still nothing. Just her pen scribbling faster.

But every now and then, you’d catch it—a tiny smile at the corner of her lips, like she was fighting it. Like she didn’t want to enjoy your nonsense, but… maybe part of her did.

One time, you tried handing her a juice box. “Peace offering,” you said with a grin.

She stared at it, then back at you. “Are you trying to bribe me with juice?”

“…Yes?”

She rolled her eyes and took it anyway. “Whatever. Just don’t be loud.”

That was the most she’d said to you all week.

Even when she pretended to ignore you, Ningning never told you to leave. She never asked you to stop showing up. And eventually, your presence wasn’t strange anymore. It was expected.

but everytime ningning goes and study she always expects you to come, its like imprinted in her routine that you’d be there yapping for time and time, even everyone on campus notice the decrease of your stupidity around the campus, out of curiosity they’d always look for you and eventually see you always with ning ning, this week, next week and next next week, you’re day and as time passes by ning ning caught herself unable to put he rheadphones but rather listen to you.

Every day after class, Ningning would head to her usual spot in the library—corner seat by the window, stack of books in her arms, highlighters tucked behind her ear. Same routine. Same silence.

Except now, it wasn’t complete without you.

At first, she told herself it was coincidence. That you just happened to be there again. That the sound of your chair scraping the floor wasn’t something she waited for. That she wasn’t… smiling a little when you dropped your bag with that familiar sigh and plopped into the seat across from her.

But it kept happening.

Every day.

This week.

Next week.

The week after that.

And slowly, it became part of her schedule. Part of her. Like the smell of ink, or the weight of her books, your voice became something she expected—something she wanted.

She’d catch herself, finger hovering over her music app, earbuds in hand. But she never pressed play.

Instead, she listened to you ramble about nonsense. About how history was a scam. About how the vending machine was probably rigged. About how the school cat winked at you and you were now spiritually bonded.

And the craziest part?

She listened.

Really listened.

And the rest of the campus noticed. The chaos you used to bring—the pranks, the yelling, the weird rumors about you flooding the locker rooms with bubble bath—suddenly stopped.

“Where’s Y/N?” people would ask.

But they’d always find the same answer: in the library. With her.

“Y/N’s with Ningning again? What a weird combo…”

“Right? Must be tough for her, poor girl.”

The whispers kept coming, but you didn’t care—not when you were sitting across from her again, surrounded by stacks of books you wouldn’t read and snacks you sneakily smuggled in.

“I’m telling you, if I took school seriously, I could easily become president,” you said, chin resting on your palm.

Ningning didn’t even glance up. “You failed the last history test, Y/N. The one about presidents.”

“Technicalities. I was just… testing the system.”

“But admit it,” you grinned, leaning a little closer. “Campus has been way more exciting since I started bothering you.”

She finally looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Exciting isn’t the word I’d use.”

“What would you use, then?” you asked, trying to sound casual even though her gaze always made your stomach do backflips.

“Loud. Distracting. Questionably annoying,” she said, counting each one off with her fingers. But there was a small smile tugging at her lips, betraying her tone.

You laughed. “Ouch. But you didn’t tell me to leave.”

She shrugged, eyes flicking down to her notes. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

You gasped, dramatically placing a hand over your heart. “Cold. So cold.”

She sighed, setting her pen down. “Okay, dinosaur boy—what’s today’s wild theory?”

“I’ve been thinking,” you said, leaning in with way too much energy for a library setting, “if time travel was real, I’d go back and stop myself from ever taking math. Life changer.”

Ningning let out a laugh—a real one this time. Soft, quick, almost shy.

“You’re such an idiot,” she muttered.

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot now, right?”

You grinned. “No one. But you didn’t deny it.” That caught her off guard. She paused, cheeks turning the faintest pink. “Who said anything about you being mine?”

She picked her pen back up, pretending to write something. “Keep talking and I’ll deny your existence. You just laughed again, watching her try to hide her smile as she scribbled on the page.

After months of shared afternoons filled with soft bickering, side-eyes over snack wrappers, and silent moments that somehow spoke louder than words, Ningning decided it was time.

She wouldn’t call it a date, of course—not that she didn’t want to. But admitting it out loud felt terrifying. So instead, she called it a trip. A casual visit to a cozy public library she “just happened to like,” far from school and even farther from the watchful eyes of classmates.

You met her there, already surprised by the change in setting. She fidgeted with her sleeves for a while, eyes focused on the bookshelves behind you until—

“We should go somewhere… together. You know, for a change. Not here. Not school,” she said, her tone light, almost teasing. “You could consider it… a field trip. For your chaotic brain.”

You blinked. “Wait, are you asking me out?”

She smirked. “I’m asking if you want to escape studying for a day.”

But the slight blush dusting her cheeks betrayed her, and you felt your heart flip—no, cartwheel. The butterflies kicked in full force.

“You already know the answer,” you said, trying to play it cool. “But say it’s a date, and I’ll say yes even faster.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t push it, dinosaur boy.”

Still, the way her lips curled made it clear: she was happy.

The day finally came. You were buzzing the entire morning, practically bouncing in your seat waiting for dismissal. Everyone noticed. And so did the rumors.

“Is Y/N blackmailing her or something?”

“She looks so uncomfortable around him. It’s messed up.”

It spread fast, wildfire-fast, like people couldn’t believe a girl like Ningning could actually choose to be around you.

You were used to the judgment. She was too. Neither of you said anything—but it lingered.

Then, just as you were heading out to meet her, you passed by a group of girls near the vending machine. They were giggling, whispering—until suddenly, the machine tipped forward with a sharp screech.

Gasps rang out. One of the girls froze in place, right in the path of the falling metal.

Without thinking, you lunged forward, catching the edge of the machine and pushing it back into place with all your strength.

Everyone stared.

The girl you saved looked at you, stunned, as did her friends.

One of them muttered, “That’s Y/N…?”

And slowly, it hit them. The rumors. The stories. The reputation. But more than that—it hit them that you weren’t just the guy who disrupted class and played dumb. Somewhere along the line, Ningning changed you. Or maybe, just maybe, she brought out the part of you that was always there… just waiting for someone to see it

You finally arrived—about five minutes late—but Ningning didn’t seem to mind. There she was, sitting by the window of the cozy little library, not in her usual uniform but in a pastel yellow long-sleeved top tucked into casual beige pants, glasses resting on her nose, stacks of books beside her and a warm cup of coffee cradled in her hands.

She looked up and smiled softly, “Late, as expected.”

You chuckled, stepping closer. “Wasn’t expecting you to look this cute, honestly. Might’ve run here instead.”

She raised an eyebrow, but her cheeks flushed. “You say that now, but you’ll still fall asleep mid-convo like always.”

“Nah,” you grinned, sliding into the seat across from her. “Not today. Not when I’ve got your undivided attention for once.”

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “I always give you at least 10% of my brain.”

“Well, I want a hundred.”

Ningning laughed, sipping her coffee as she leaned forward a little. “Then make it worth it, Y/N.”

The conversation flowed easier than usual—no textbooks to hide behind, no distractions. Just the two of you in your own little corner of the world. Banters bounced back and forth like second nature, filling the room with soft laughter.

And somewhere between teasing her about the number of books she brought and listening to her laugh at your absurd theory about time travel and bread expiration dates, you caught yourself just… looking.

You’d always steal glances before, when she studied and you’d pretend to be bored. But now?

Now she was looking back too. No headphones. No fake annoyance. Just her eyes—clear, curious, and soft—locked on yours.

And in that quiet second, surrounded by the smell of old pages and fresh coffee, something changed. Something unspoken but loud.

[noiriarti]

Just Practice: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Modern Best Friends AU) Ch. 1

Summary: Anakin is your best friend, the one person you can't survive without, and you're about to go to different colleges. You bring up your worries about your inexperience and he offers to help.

NSFW!!!!!!!

[Ch. 1], Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Bonus Chapter

Chapter 1: Kissing Practice

The August air was humid and thick, even though the sun had already set, and you could feel the sweat dripping down from your bike helmet to your forehead. You'd bet anything that the mosquitoes were out in full force, but you were speeding too fast on your bike to get caught by one of them. The hot wind whipped your face as you went downhill on the road toward your house, but you felt another breeze beside you. Your best friend, Anakin. He's a competitive little shit, has been since you were kids. Luckily, you're pretty competitive too. You pedaled faster, faster, faster, faster, jolting over the bumps where potholes were asphalted over and cracks in the road had worn deeper into the road. There's no sidewalk out here, just tall grass on either side of you.

Anakin let out an evil chuckle as he passed you, just barely, and you rolled your eyes and doubled down. He's gained on you, more than a little, and you thought you might just lose your bet. You looked to your right, trying to find a way to get just a little bit of an edge. When you turn right in a quarter of a mile, onto your street, you might gain just a half second on him. It could be enough to win. But as you looked at the street ahead of you, something caught your eye in the grass. Something moving.

You slammed down on the brakes, digging your worn sneakers into the ground as you skidded to a stop. You were planning to buy new ones next week, anyway. Anakin shot past you, racing ahead with a whoop of joy. He turned around to stick out his tongue at you, but saw you had stopped and were no longer focused on the road at all. He circled back to you, still panting from the race, and climbed off his bike to face you.

"What's up?" He turned to look at you, concerned and curious, but you were focused on something else entirely. In the tall grass, as the sun had set, fireflies had begun darting in between the stalks, peeking out slivers of their light. You hadn't realized how dark it had gotten on your way back from the gas station, but the stars were already out. It was a beautiful night, and you wished you could capture it, bottle it up and keep it on your shelf. A little slice of home, the last one you would have for a while. You vaguely registered that Anakin was saying something as you stared out at the fireflies, but you were just thinking about how you probably wouldn't see the stars like this, or fireflies at all, for a good while yet. The thought made your heart ache.

"Helloooo?" he singsonged, "Anyone there?" He waved a hand in front of your face, and you snapped out of it. You looked up at him, and he smiled that lopsided smile you knew like the back of your hand. 

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Just thinking," you replied somewhat absently.

"Well, let's get home, Socrates. These slurpees aren't getting any colder," he said, shaking the cup in his hand (Mountain Dew Freeze, his favorite) to make his point. 

"Fine, fine," you conceded, smirking. You saw your opportunity and got back on your bike. "Last one there has to do the dishes!" You put your foot on your pedal and pushed, getting your momentum started. He called out after you in protest as he scrambled onto his bike and tried to catch up, but it was too late. A quarter of a mile later, when you pulled into your street, and then turned onto your driveway, he was just a second behind you.

"No fair!! You cheater!" He yelled as you unclipped your helmet and did a little victory dance. You both dropped your bikes in the grass next to the driveway with a slightly concerning thump, then headed up the stairs to the front door. You opened the screen door with a creak--you should remind your parents to oil that hinge, you thought--then unlocked the front door. 

The AC hit your damp and sweaty faces with a delightful cool breeze, and you sighed in joy. Cold. Cold. Nice. Ani had always hated the heat, as did you. You were both winter kids, and your favorite activity was sledding. You'd been best friends since winter of third grade, when he and his mom had moved from Texas to your small Minnesota town, into the house right next door. Your moms became fast friends from the moment they were introduced, and Shmi's job as the school nurse meant she could drop you off and pick you up. Initially, you weren't sure what to think of him. He was a tiny little guy, way shorter than you, with freckles exploding all over his face. But then he smiled that lopsided grin of his which made his eyes crinkle, told you his name was Ani, and asked if there were any good hills around for sledding. Later, on the way back from school, he asked in a tiny voice if you'd go with him. Who were you to say no?

Your whole friendship was built with snow crusted on the tops of your boots and melted into your mittens. At the end of January in sixth grade, you had both spent the winter building up a pile of snow and digging out the inside to make a snow clubhouse (read: cave). The cold air burned the inside of your throats as you panted after the manual labor of digging for hours, but it was finally done. Once you had crawled through the entrance and sat on the hard snow, enveloped by the packed ice all around you, he looked you straight in your eyes and told you "our future house should be made of snow". Like he didn't change your life with that one little word. Our.

But you were just friends. Your heart would flutter sometimes, but it was all ignorable until tenth grade. After your birthday dinner with your family (which included Shmi and Ani, obviously), he slipped you a little box. When you opened it, the most silver necklace with a snowflake pendant winked out at you. Shmi told you later that it wasn't just silver, it was white gold, and incredibly expensive. That he had been saving up for a whole year to buy it for you. His gentle hands clasped it into place behind your neck, and you shivered when he put them on your shoulders. There, he said, perfect.

It wasn't so easy to ignore after that, but you managed. Through the summers working together at the park, the semesters in the same classes, and the afternoons playing games and doing homework, you got profoundly skilled at crushing your feelings deep, deep down.

And then Padme came along. And the idea of someone else seeing Ani's baby photos, or being loved by his mom, or kissing him absolutely killed you. Because you were friends. But that was all over now. It was just the two of you, as normal.

Now, you were both about to leave town, at least until Thanksgiving. One last family dinner, he said when he suggested it. When you both walked into your house, Shmi called out that dinner was on the table in two minutes, so you sucked up the rest of your slurpees so quickly your stomach got queasy.

The finality of it all almost escaped you. The little glances your parents cast to one another. Anakin's favorite mashed potatoes. Cake for dessert. The details were all whispering This is the end. Enjoy it while you can. Ani could tell something was off, too, and you kept shooting glances at one another. He tried to make you smile by bumping his legs into yours with a grin, like he did when you were little, but it didn't help. Once dinner was done, the adults went to have coffee in the living room, leaving Anakin to do the dishes. You dashed up to your room as soon as you could, trying to hold onto what little time you had left.

Half an hour later, the lamp by your bed cast a warm glow over the room, and you could hear the crickets through the window. You were laying on bed reading a book--some YA novel where you weren't really processing what was happening. Apocalypse? Love triangle?--when Ani finished the dishes and burst in. He didn't knock, of course. There wasn't any energy left in you to complain. You knew you'd miss him bursting into your room unannounced next week, and the week after that, and the week after. Would that longing ever fade?

"Well, I finished the dishes. You cheater," he joked as he sat down on the bed next to you. You sat up, your body complaining from your race earlier, and stuck your tongue out at him. You didn't have it in you to say more. The two of you sat in silence, his face turning slightly more concerned as he watched you stare off into space.

"You good? You've been off all night," he commented, bumping his shoulder against yours. You threw him a half-hearted smile as you fumbled with your snowflake pendant.

"Fine, yeah. Just... Tomorrow is a lot." You didn't want to tell him the truth, that you couldn't imagine your life without him in it, and that moving somewhere completely different would shatter your heart, so you didn't.

Anakin finally cracked a smile, and you wondered when the last time you had seen him not smile was. That lopsided grin practically never left his face, and it was infectious to see. "So you're scared, huh?" 

Always teasing you. But there was an undercurrent of sincerity there, buried deep. When you were younger, you had worried about if he'd still be your friend when others came around, and maybe he'd like them more than he liked you, but he stayed loyal to you. Even when Tommy Masterson in seventh grade said you were probably a bedwetter, Anakin not-so-subtly started a rumor that Tommy peed himself when he got too excited. (Granted, that rumor only gained traction because Anakin had splashed the kid's pants with apple juice after gym. And punched him. But you didn't hear about that until last year.)

"Yeah, I guess. Everything will be different and, well--making friends isn't super easy. I mean, real friends. Like you," you said. Anakin responded with just a thoughtful hmm, while his eyes, usually clear blue, were dark and stormy in the lamplight. His smile had faded just a bit, and he was looking downward. For a second, you thought he was looking at your lips with that intense look, but you shook the thought away. Friends. 

"I just, I don't know. I'm also worried about, well, oh fuck this is awkward to say out loud, dating, I guess?" You hadn't confessed that to anyone else. Anakin was silent, still boring into you with that look in his eye. The words came out like a river, filling in every gap of the silence between you. You kept messing with the snowflake pendant, like you always did when you were nervous. "I wish I had dated someone in high school. I haven't even kissed anyone, other than Alex in fucking freshman year during spin the bottle, so it wasn't even real, and I only went on a date with that one guy last year but we didn't even hold hands--what kind of cute college guy will want someone who hasn't even gotten to second base or hasn't actually kissed someone for real? I'm still a virgin. Am I just--" Anakin cut off your rambling with a soft "hey," and you expected him to say something else, but he just sat, silent.

"Sorry," you said, awkwardly. God, that was so cringe of you. You hated hearing about it when Anakin told you about his first kiss, and the first time he had gone a bit further with his girlfriend in sophomore year. Padme was so nice and cool and great, but you couldn't shake the unease in the pit of your stomach when you saw them holding hands. Or kissing. Or cuddling on the couch at a party. It was just being protective. That's what best friends do. Right? The other option was unthinkable.

"I could help," he said simply, like it wasn't anything serious. The words sat between you, the air heavy with his implication. Hope nestled in your chest, but you pushed it away. He probably meant he could set you up with one of the guys on the soccer team. He did claim that Isaiah had a crush on you, but the kid ate his own boogers until high school. Gross.

"I'm not going to date Isaiah. Or Kevin," you added. Kevin was even worse. You expected Anakin to laugh, dismiss the whole idea, but he kept that intense look in his eyes.

"What? Those losers? Nah... No, I mean, I could help you. We could... practice," he let out a tiny laugh, and your face fell, so he rushed to add, "Sorry. It's just. Feels funny to say. But I'm serious. We could. If you wanted." The breath left your chest. This isn't happening. It can't be. Then why were you deliriously happy? Why did you want nothing more than to lean over and kiss him? You searched his face for some tell that this was all some bit that he'd tease you for. Some joke that he took too far. But all you found was sincerity and earnestness. He wanted this. He was literally offering it. His suggestion sat between you, curling into your stomach and sending it churning and fluttering. Was he actually giving you butterflies? But if you kissed him, you'd ruin everything you had for years. You were going to say no. No. No. 

But why did that answer break your heart?

Shit. You had taken too long. You could see him crawling back into his shell, about to make some joke about how you had cooties or something, when you blurted out your answer. 

"Yes. I mean--sure. I need the practice, right?" You cringed. Real smooth. His eyes widened, and he smiled--a genuine smile, no teasing in it, just affection. You could still sense that intensity rolling off him like waves. 

"Okay," he said. This time, there wasn't any hiding the way his gaze flitted down to your lips. Anakin scooched closer to you with an awkward "um" as he tried to figure out how to navigate kissing his best friend. He suddenly wished there was a handbook, or a guide to tell him how to make this not awkward even though he wanted it so badly.

When his hand, still soft and warm from washing the dishes, his fingers wrinkled from the water, came up to touch your cheek, you had to suppress a surprised jump. Oh, God. This was real. His face was coming closer. This was happening. Holy fuck holy fuck holyfuckholyfuckholyfuckholyfuck

Then his lips met yours and your brain imploded. This was Anakin and you. You and Anakin. And holy fuck it felt so good. The rhythm of kissing was new to you--before, you'd only pecked Alex, and that was once, in front of half the graduating class. This was completely different. And terrifying. Anakin's mouth moved against you, and you gradually tried to mimic his movements. You felt his lips part just a bit wider, and, in your enthusiasm, you bumped your teeth together. Hard. Anakin grunted in pain, and, then, suddenly, he pulled away. Fuck. Was this it? Was that all you would get?

"OhmyGodareyouokay?" You blurted, your hands shooting up to cup his cheeks. He laughed heartily, his eyes twinkling.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Looks like you needed the practice, though," he said as he cackled. Heat rushed into your cheeks, and you were sure you were as red as a tomato. You smacked his shoulder a few times, and then a few more times for good measure. 

"Asshole!" He was still smirking, but he was leaning back in. You hadn't scared him off, and you thanked every god you could think of. Soon, his lips were back on yours, and your heart rate went back into the triple digits. This time, his hand came up to the small of your back, pulling you in closer, so that your thighs were pressed up against each other.

As he kissed you again, you swore you grew ten times as many nerve endings in your lips. The kisses started out slow and soft, like they were the first time, but soon they grew hungry. Soon, you felt his tongue poke out and tease your lip, which produced an embarrassing whimper from you. He'd probably make fun of you later, and you couldn't care less. His free hand grabbed your legs by the knee and hoisted them up over his, so that you were nearly in his lap. The way your lips felt against each other was nothing short of sinful. If this is what kissing everyone felt like, you had been seriously missing out. However, you got the sense that this was something special. Guilt creeped into your thoughts. This was different for you than it was for him. Though you'd been denying it, you reasoned you probably had feelings for him. (You were actually utterly head-over-heels for him, but that wasn't something you were prepared to admit yet). Either way, you felt for a second like you were taking advantage of the situation. But he had offered, so you kissed him even harder to make the thoughts go away. God, his mouth felt good.

The kisses that had been hungry before were ravenous at this point, sloppy and drunk on each other. His warm, strong hand on your legs pulled you even closer, so that you were completely sitting on him, but the angle was a bit weird. You pulled away, just for a second, and he sloppily trailed kisses down your jaw and neck. You moaned loudly, not able to hide your response to the feeling of his tongue on your neck, teasing you in little circles in between kisses. You hitched one of your legs over him and straddled him. If he was going to escalate, so were you.

Now that you were on his lap, you had to lean down to kiss him, holding his face in your hands. His smooth cheek was feverish under your touch, and he was kissing you even more desperately than he was before, if that was even possible. You felt something on your thigh and--oh.

Oh. He was hard. Fuck, that was something else. You felt yourself getting even wetter, begging for some sort of touch. Fuck it. You took the risk, and you lowered your clothed pussy onto him. He wasn't just hard, he was rock hard. And big. When he felt your weight on him, he groaned into your mouth, not daring to break the kiss. You pulled away, just to make sure you weren't crossing some sort of poorly defined line. As if you guys had laid this out in detail beforehand.

"Is this okay?" You half-whispered, half-panted into his mouth. He mumbled a series of 'yes's and nodded fervently, going straight back to kissing you with his hands on your hips. Tentatively, you rolled your hips against him, and he grunted as he kept kissing you. The friction was perfect, finally giving you some relief. He was driving you absolutely insane. You kept grinding your hips, chasing the feeling. You ran your fingers through his hair and tugged gently, and his hips twitched up to you. You could feel his hands helping you grind into him, and soon enough he was thrusting up in time with you. The sounds flowed out of you freely now, little whimpers and gasps that matched his groans.

Then someone was knocking at the door, and you ripped yourself away from him. It was Shmi.

"Ani? We should go home now, still a lot of packing to do!" He looked up at you with wide eyes, caught red-handed. Anakin was panting, heavily, barely capable of putting together a sentence.

"Coming!" He called back, though his voice faltered. As you both looked at each other, his boyish grin reappeared, and you both burst out laughing. What the fuck just happened? He helped you get off him and sit back down on your bed. His tall, lean frame leaned over you, putting your foreheads together as your laughter trailed off.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said in a low voice, before kissing you one more time. This kiss was different. There wasn't urgency, or horniness, just a gentle sweetness to it. It was more painful than all your other kisses combined. You nodded, not able to say a single word, as he left the room. 

You could hear him going down the stairs, and greeting your parents. You just sat there, frozen, like your world hadn't just changed in the last half hour. And the funny part? You weren't even thinking about moving away anymore.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

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[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE BUCKY BARNES HEADCANONS

You literally could be sitting at a library or outside a coffee shop and man here would fall head over heels in love with you. Faster than you can say 'Avengers Assemble'. He'd think you're some kind of god or goddess and he needs to know MORE about you, but he's kinda shy to strike up a conversation with you and he's afraid he'll mess up the first impression

Would most probably stalk you for like 3-4 months to get to know your schedule more and find out more about you or as he prefers to call it 'Learning more about you'. He'll find out everything about you from your favorite food to your favorite movie and book series. It might take him a while to approach you and start a conversation with you since he wants to get everything right and doesn't want to mess up

He'd actually be open to sharing you with Steve since you know... both of them are best pals

As a yandere he is VERY protective and obsessive of you, especially concerned about his darling's safety. He tosses and loses sleep at the thought of someone harming you. Are you all right? You're not hurt right? Man here will literally FLIP if something happens to you

He hopes against hope that you haven't found out about his past but if you did, he'll take his time to convince you he won't hurt you or do anything to you. And besides, you won't be able to find out much about his past anyways since he must have erased most of it from things like papers and stuff like that. Bucky really loves you for treating him like everyone else and not some dangerous monster and he admires you for it too

He will stop at NOTHING to win you over. Even if it means getting rid of rivals and enemies. Well, he won't directly resolve to violence at first when it comes to rivals, he'll warn them 3 times or something like that. And if they still don't listen... well... oh look, there's a dead body found! And he'll destroy any evidence that leads to him killing that person since he does have the required skills after all. They don't deserve to even BREATHE the same air as you according to him and YES, even if he has to get the Avengers to help him he most certainly will

He's kinda like a lost puppy always wanting to be around you

He won't kidnap you off the bat just yet but if he thinks you're in danger kiss your freedom goodbye. But don't worry, he'll treat you well and have all your favorite things read y for you in some secret underground bunker or a cabin in the woods or something like that. he understands you'll be scared, confused and angry at him and he'll treat you like royalty, never making you do things you don't like doing and never yelling at you or even raising his hands at you. You'll most probably fall into Stockholm Syndrome within 2 months or so since he's SUCH a gentleman with you

He just CAN'T afford to get angry at you and so, if you try acting up or trying to escape, he'll just sigh, pull you onto his lap and have a nice long talk with you while cuddling you asking why you'd do something like that. He'd love to have a family with you and he'll never let you go. After all, all you need is HIM

[fogged--mirror]

tr!clown headcanons weow (heavily based on my design for him)

So whenever he is afk or not physically there (logged off lol) he is a normal sized centipede sleeping in his mask. I think he leaves his mask in his castle room somewhere no one would check (under the bed or sth)

Under the cut a lot more text, mostly losa focused yay yippie

My mans been out cold for most of the month. I think tr!Ros would have found his mask (she is probably the only person who hangs around his room anyway). While trying to put his mask somewhere more nice she finds the bug looking kinda like him? She checks if it's alive and the thing just curls itself on her hand.

It's pretty easy to put together that the strange centipede with - exact colours as Clown's centipede traits, radiating magical energy and, most of all, sleeping in his mask is just Clown in his second form.

Ros thought of trying to wake him up but ultimately decided to just put him back to his hiding spot. "Surely he would be back soon, no need to bother him now!". She showed tr!Sneeg though, just in case. He tried to shake the bug awake for a solid 3 minutes but gave up after it hadn't worked. Still, they know now!

(in my hc they both kinda had an idea about a second form because it was impossible to find Clown whenever he was afk or asleep, Ros thought he has a bug form like her /she can transform into a butterfly swarm when logging off/. Sneeg thought the guy just buries himself in a cave or a dark place because he is a centipede hybrid. It ended up being both of their theories lol).

I like to think they both sometimes visit him and chat. Ros when she needs to rant about something going horribly wrong and Sneeg when he wants to ramble about his machines. To no one's surprise they both usually end the conversation with offhandedly mentioning that they miss him. Sneeg might throw in some insults or lightly shake the sleeping bug a few times for a good measure.

Before the ball they both visited him. Ros tried to get him to wake up and waited for a bit after, she hoped he would be there for her big moment but it's fine, she will surely see him after anyway. Sneeg came by after Ros left, just waiting if the jester finally decides to get up. After a few minutes he leaves, he is late to the ball already, if Clown shows up he will see him anyways.

After the ball it is a bit weird.

Ros remembers him as a friend, but not the little details like his other form. Somehow she still finds him again and just holds him in her shaky hands for a while, the warmth feels nice to her still frostbit skin after returning from the null. It still hasn't fully went away after a few days. She never says a word during all this, puts him back and doesn't speak to him anymore whenever she walks by his room. The tradition slipped her already half shattered mind.

Sneeg hasn't changed that drastically compared to Ros, he still visits, he still rants, still pokes fun at Clown never being here, the usual. But it fizzles out faster than before, despite being fine with his own warden corruption he doesn't really want for a warden to spawn in Clown's room of all places actually. He leaves quicker or barely visits, he has a machine to attend to, an ancient city to visit to, anywhere else but here. Slowly he stops visiting fully.

Clown slightly knows that they both visited and talked to him while he was gone, he recalls some bits of words they said once or twice. Thinking harder about it he feels surprisingly comfortable with them knowing of his other form, the only two people he feels confident wouldn't do something with it never did anything. The immediate next thought is of how to scare the living hell out of Sneeg with it since he can freely transform around or near him now.

Less angst hcs :)

Ros holds bug Clown very carefully a lot, her hands are always cold (mans a lava centipede, he is very good at being a heater). She does so before and after the null (it's like muscle memory - if hands cold grab a bug until they get warmer). If Ros told him she did this he would probably hang around closer to her more (naturally radiates warmth due to lava literally being in his veins but his tail is too hot to comfortably touch when he is awake, so he just exists close by whenever they meet up)

Sneeg holds him like people hold worms on a string or lets him dangle like a noodle. He holds the bug up in front of him and talks to it like it's actually Clown for funnies sometimes. Once dragged his second still dead asleep form to show the blender, sleepiest bug on the realm had no comment and was delivered back to it's room after being called a few insults. After the warden corruption he still hold the jester like a noodle but does less silly things each time he visits.

When Clown inevitably wakes up and learns the other two know he absolutely uses it to his advantage. He jumps down on Sneeg's head multiple times to scare him or worms his way into his cape and just hangs out there if he has nothing better to do (to Sneeg's annoyance but it's better then this guy jumpscaring him or finding a new way to torment him more so he takes it). Ros gets the better end of the stick with his second form. He hangs out near her in bug form because he is comfortable and relaxed enough to do so. Pocket sized bug who still gets used as a heater and follows Ros sometimes! (mostly whenever he is tired or sleepy and just wants to spend time with her).

Silly hc also - Bug Clown is dreaming about lifesteal and rn he is having a nightmare about his mace being stolen so whenever Sneeg or Ros see his bug form it looks distraught and keeps turning in his mask. Neither question it. Bro is fighting for his life while sleeping, godbless. When he wakes up next time he still kind of feels like he is in lifesteal for a good first hour of being back (he overslept real bad and cannot remember what year is it or where he is).

I miss losa so bad can this guy return from the war (lifesteal arc or editing) pretty please. This post is mostly rambling, my b