#do i need to add TW at the start of these posts? I feel like I should...

[biitchcakes]

[jungwnies]

F1 GRID | accidentally confessing their love

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri (since its nearing the start of the 2025 season feel free to comment anyone you'd like me to add to my grid posts <3) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested or not) : your f1 driver friend confessing how they really feel for you!! <3

୨ৎ : genre : romance & fluff (suggestive if you squint during charles' part...) ୨ৎ : tws : slightly... suggestive ୨ৎ : word count : 3372

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : i just feel like this is so cute and wholesome idk something this i need this love

ʚ・max verstappen

the night had been loud.

a red bull team party, music blasting, people laughing, and max was absolutely wasted. you had never seen him like this before, and honestly, it was kind of hilarious. max, the four-time world champion, was currently leaning half his weight on you, grinning like an idiot while mumbling something under his breath.

"max, you need water," you said, struggling to keep him upright as he practically draped himself over you.

"neeeee," he slurred dramatically. "i need you."

you rolled your eyes. "yeah, you need me to call you a cab."

max groaned, tilting his head back. "no, you." his words came out jumbled, but there was something… weirdly sincere about them. his drunken blue eyes stared into yours as he said, "i love you."

you blinked. "what?"

"i love you," he repeated, much too casual for something that insane to say out loud.

you laughed, patting his shoulder. "oh, okay. and tomorrow morning, you’ll love a big headache, too."

max frowned, clearly frustrated that you weren’t taking him seriously. his grip on your arm tightened slightly. "no, no, i mean it. i love you."

"you’re drunk."

"yeah, but i still love you."

"go to sleep, max."

"i love you."

"uh-huh."

—

the next morning, max showed up at your door looking like death itself.

sunglasses on, hoodie up, hair a mess, and a red bull can in hand like it was some kind of magical cure. you let him in without a word, watching as he flopped onto your couch with a heavy groan.

"never letting checo mix my drinks again," he muttered.

you smirked. "you mean never letting yourself mix your drinks?"

max lifted a hand weakly. "details."

you sat next to him, poking his shoulder. "so, do you remember anything from last night?"

his face scrunched in thought. "uh… i remember dancing, i remember lando laughing at me, and i remember… uh…" his voice trailed off as his posture stiffened slightly.

you watched him carefully. "you remember what?"

max’s hand came up, rubbing the back of his neck. "i may have said something stupid."

you raised an eyebrow. "oh, you mean confessing your undying love for me? yeah, i’d say that qualifies as stupid."

he groaned, sinking lower into the couch. "shit."

you laughed. "so, do you want to take that back, or…?"

max sat up suddenly, pulling off his sunglasses so he could look you dead in the eyes.

"no," he said, completely serious.

your breath caught.

max shook his head. "i don’t want to take it back. i meant it."

you blinked, not expecting that. "max…"

"i love you," he repeated, but this time, there was no alcohol in his system, no slurred words, no hazy grin. just him, just max, staring at you like he had known this truth for a long time.

your stomach flipped.

"say something," he mumbled, clearly nervous.

you smiled, your heart pounding. "you really have the worst timing, you know that?"

max exhaled a small laugh. "tell me something i don’t know."

you rolled your eyes, but before you could say anything else, he grabbed your hand, holding it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"just tell me one thing," he said quietly. "do you love me back?"

you squeezed his hand. "i do."

max grinned, leaning his forehead against yours. "good."

ʚ・lewis hamilton

lewis was always grateful for you.

you had been there for everything, the highs, the lows, the chaotic last-minute travel plans, the quiet moments in between. being friends with lewis hamilton meant late-night phone calls when he couldn’t sleep, celebrating podiums like they were your own victories, and grounding him when the world became too much.

and lewis? he never took you for granted.

but it wasn’t until today that he realized why.

—

"you are an actual lifesaver," lewis said, flopping onto your couch with an exaggerated sigh.

you grinned, handing him a cup of tea before sitting down next to him. "all i did was fix your pr nightmare. you act like i just saved your championship season."

he groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. "no, because if i had to sit through one more meeting about my ‘social media strategy’ or listen to someone tell me how i should ‘connect with fans better,’ i was going to lose my mind. you handled that mess in, like, five minutes."

you smirked, sipping your own tea. "well, someone had to. you looked like you were about to crawl under the table and never come out."

lewis laughed, shaking his head. "not even joking, i considered it." he took a sip of tea, sighed happily, then looked over at you.

"i love you."

the words came out so easily, so naturally, that it didn’t even register at first.

you just smiled. "i know."

and for a moment, everything felt normal. because this was you and lewis. you had always been close. you had always been affectionate. saying "i love you" in moments like this wasn’t weird.

except this time, it was.

because suddenly, lewis stopped mid-sip, blinking like he had just realized what he said.

you felt it too.

the room got quieter, the air heavier. your heartbeat picked up, and when you looked at him, his expression had shifted…his usual effortless confidence replaced with something more uncertain.

"i mean, uh—" lewis started, clearing his throat. "you know, like… i love you in a friend way."

you raised an eyebrow. "do you?"

he opened his mouth, then closed it. "i… think so?"

you set your cup down, turning your body to face him fully. "because it sounded different this time."

lewis stared at you for a second, like he was replaying the last few moments in his head, analyzing them like a race strategy. then he exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

"yeah," he admitted, voice softer now. "it was different, wasn’t it?"

you swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were sitting.

"do you want to take it back?" you asked.

he met your eyes, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "no."

your stomach flipped.

lewis shifted slightly, his knee brushing against yours. "you know i meant it, right?"

you nodded, barely breathing. "yeah."

he tilted his head, studying you like he was seeing you for the first time. "and?"

you bit your lip, your pulse racing. "and… i love you too."

lewis grinned, the kind of smile that could light up an entire room.

"that’s good," he said, voice warm, eyes soft. "because i really didn’t want to take it back."

ʚ・george russell

fighting with george russell was exhausting.

not because he yelled, he didn’t. not because he was mean, he wasn’t. but because george had this thing where he had to be logical, had to be rational, had to explain why he was right in a way that made you want to rip your hair out.

and right now? you were both standing in his kitchen, arguing over something so stupid that you weren’t even sure how it started.

"george, i swear to god, you are so stubborn!"

"me? i’m stubborn?" he gestured wildly. "you’re the one refusing to see reason!"

"you’re acting like you’ve never been wrong in your life!"

"because i’m not wrong about this!"

you groaned, throwing your hands up. "oh my god, you’re impossible!"

george scoffed, shaking his head. "you are impossible!"

the frustration was boiling over.

the tension in the room was thick.

and then, suddenly, george blurted out, "i love you, and you make me insane!"

you froze.

he froze.

the room went completely silent.

you blinked. "what?"

george exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "oh, for god's sake," he muttered, mostly to himself, before looking back at you. "i love you. and i don’t know why i decided right now was the perfect time to say it, but it’s true."

your heart was pounding. "you… love me?"

"yes," he huffed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "you drive me crazy, you argue with me about the dumbest things, and you never let me have the last word—"

"because i’m right most of the time," you interrupted automatically.

george shot you a look. "see? this is what i mean."

you opened your mouth to argue again but stopped. because, holy shit, george russell just confessed his love for you.

and maybe you were still annoyed, and maybe you still thought he was wrong about whatever the hell you were fighting about, but none of that mattered anymore.

because you loved him too.

you swallowed. "well… for the record, i love you too."

george let out a breath, his whole body relaxing. "thank god."

and then, before you could say anything else, he closed the space between you, cupped your face, and kissed you, like he had been waiting to do it forever.

the argument? forgotten. the love? loud and clear.

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos was always shamelessly flirty with you. the teasing, the winks, the ridiculous pick-up lines? flirting was practically his love language. and after years of friendship, you had gotten used to it.

mostly.

right now, he was watching you struggle with a jar of pasta sauce in his kitchen, leaning against the counter with that infuriating smirk of his.

"you need help, amor?"

you huffed, gripping the jar tighter. "i got it."

carlos snorted. "sure you do."

you shot him a glare before twisting the lid as hard as you could. nothing. the damn thing wouldn’t budge.

carlos reached for it. "come on, let me—"

you yanked it away. "no. i can do it."

he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "you are very stubborn."

carlos chuckled but didn’t argue. instead, he folded his arms and waited, watching you wrestle with the jar for another few seconds. finally, with an annoyed groan, you shoved it into his hands.

"fine. do it."

carlos grinned like he had just won a world championship, taking the jar with an exaggerated flourish. "watch and learn."

with one quick motion, he popped the lid off effortlessly and held it up like a trophy. "easy."

you narrowed your eyes at him. "i loosened it."

"of course you did," he said, eyes twinkling. "and you’re so lucky i love you, or i would let you struggle with every jar forever."

silence. the air in the kitchen shifted.

you stared at him, your brain short-circuiting. "what?"

carlos blinked. "huh?"

you took a step forward. "what did you just say?"

he hesitated, his confident expression faltering for the first time. "i said… you're lucky i—" he stopped, suddenly realizing what he had let slip.

your heart was racing now. "carlos."

he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "shit."

"you love me?" you asked, voice softer now.

carlos let out a nervous laugh, shaking his head. "i mean… yeah. kind of a lot, actually."

you just stood there, staring at him, completely thrown off by the way he was suddenly serious.

carlos sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "i was planning to say it differently. maybe over dinner, something romantic. not… after opening a damn jar."

a laugh bubbled up in your chest. "this is kind of perfect, though."

he raised an eyebrow. "you think so?"

you grinned, stepping closer. "yeah. because now, i get to say it back."

carlos's eyes flickered with something warm, something hopeful. "you do?"

you nodded. "yeah."

before you could say anything else, he pulled you in, his hands resting on your waist as he pressed his forehead against yours. "you are still very lucky, amor," he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. "yeah? and why’s that?"

carlos smirked before kissing you, slow and sweet.

"because now, i get to love you forever."

ʚ・charles leclerc

charles didn’t get mad.

not really. not in the way that others did. he wasn’t the type to yell, to throw things, to let his emotions get the best of him. he carried stress in his shoulders, in the tight clench of his jaw, in the way his fingers tapped anxiously against his thigh.

but right now? right now, he was livid. and it was because of you.

"can you stop being so damn reckless for one second?" charles snapped, pacing the length of your apartment like he was trying to burn off the anger simmering beneath his skin.

you huffed, crossing your arms. "i wasn’t being reckless."

"you could have been hurt!" his voice cracked slightly, and that’s when you realized this was more than just frustration.

you sighed. "charles, i—"

"do you even care what happens to you?" he interrupted, his voice rising in a way you rarely ever heard from him. his hands curled into fists at his sides, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

you furrowed your brows. "of course, i do! but i had it under control—"

"no, you didn’t!"

the words were sharp, cutting through the tense air between you. charles never yelled. he never raised his voice at you. but tonight, something was different.

you took a step closer. "why are you so upset?"

charles let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "are you serious?" he turned toward you fully now, eyes burning with something raw, something you didn’t quite understand yet.

and then, all at once, he snapped.

"i care about you, can't you see that i love you?!"

the words hung between you, heavy and unshakable.

your breath caught, your heart slamming against your ribs as charles stood there, his face flushed, his chest rising and falling like he had just run a race.

slowly, the realization of what he had just said seemed to settle in. his expression shifted, frustration fading into something more vulnerable, something exposed.

he swallowed hard. "merde," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. "i—"

"you love me?" you whispered, voice barely above a breath.

charles exhaled, his entire body deflating. "yes." there was no hesitation, no backtracking. just the truth. "i do."

silence stretched between you, thick and charged, the weight of his confession pressing into the space like a live wire.

your lips parted, but no words came out. because what could you even say to that?

charles ran a hand over his face. "i know i shouldn't have said it like that. i know this isn't the right moment, but damn it, i can't just sit here and watch you act like nothing matters, like you don’t matter."

your throat tightened, and suddenly, you weren’t thinking about the argument anymore. you weren’t thinking about the reckless thing you had done, the stress that had led to this moment.

you were thinking about him.

the way his hands were still clenched at his sides, like he was holding himself back. the way his eyes darkened as they flickered down to your lips for just a second, just long enough for heat to pool in your stomach.

"say something," he murmured, his voice lower now, softer, but no less intense.

you swallowed hard. "i—i didn’t know you felt that way."

charles took a step closer, slow and deliberate, until there was barely any space left between you. "you do now."

your breath hitched. "and what happens now?"

his gaze dropped to your lips again, lingering this time. "that depends," he murmured, "are you going to let me show you how much i mean it?"

the air was thick, charged with something electric, something inevitable.

you barely had time to nod before his lips crashed against yours, urgent and desperate, like he had been holding this in for years.

and maybe, just maybe…he had.

ʚ・lando norris

being best friends with lando norris meant you were used to his nonsense.

you were used to his chaotic energy, his terrible dad jokes, his ability to trip over literally nothing, and the way he could never sit still for more than two minutes. you were used to the weird stares he gave you when he was deep in thought, and you were definitely used to the way he sometimes just blurted out whatever was on his mind with zero warning.

but this? this was new.

you were sitting across from him in his living room, scrolling through your phone while he aimlessly clicked through the tv, trying to find something to watch. it was quiet, comfortable, and perfectly normal.

until lando, completely unprompted, stared at you and blurted out, "i love you."

your head snapped up so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. "what?"

lando blinked, eyes wide, as if he had only just processed what had come out of his own mouth.

"oh. uh." he cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly. "i said… i love glue?"

you squinted. "lando."

he coughed, looking absolutely panicked now. "i meant… i love zoo. the zoo. love the zoo. animals are great."

you deadpanned. "lando."

"i love you." he sighed in defeat, running a hand through his hair. "okay, yeah, that’s what i said."

you stared at him, half amused, half trying to figure out if he was messing with you. "you just…randomly decided to say that?"

he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "i didn’t mean to say it! i was just looking at you and thinking about it and then…boom. my brain short-circuited and now i want to throw myself into the ocean."

you bit your lip, watching the way he was shifting uncomfortably in his seat, the tips of his ears turning red.

it was kind of adorable.

"so," you said, leaning back. "you love me?"

lando shot you a half-hearted glare. "yeah, obviously."

you smirked. "you love me."

he groaned again, throwing his head back against the couch. "are you seriously going to make me suffer right now?"

"yes," you said immediately, grinning. "because this is hilarious."

lando grumbled something under his breath, still refusing to look at you.

you scooted closer, nudging his leg with your foot. "hey."

he peeked at you through his fingers. "what?"

you smiled, softer this time. "i love you too."

his hand dropped from his face as his eyes flickered to yours. "wait. you do?"

you laughed. "obviously."

the relief that washed over him was instant. his whole body relaxed, and that familiar, cheeky grin of his came back full force.

"good," he said, reaching over to pull you into a dramatic hug. "because that would've been really awkward if you didn't."

you snorted. "lando, it was already awkward."

ʚ・oscar piastri

oscar was a quiet kind of chaotic.

sure, he wasn’t as loud as some of the other drivers, but he had his moments…usually when he was sleep-deprived, caught off guard, or in this case, accidentally confessing his feelings through text.

it happened late at night, when you were already in bed, casually texting him like you always did. the conversation was nothing special, just something about the race next weekend, a stupid meme he sent, and your usual back-and-forth teasing.

and then, out of nowhere, a new message popped up from oscar.

oscar: yeah okay but i love you though

your heart stopped.

you blinked at the screen, reading the message once, twice, three times, just to make sure your brain wasn’t playing tricks on you.

before you could even process it, the familiar typing… bubble appeared.

then disappeared.

then came back.

then disappeared again.

you could feel his panic through the screen.

finally, another text came through.

oscar: wait no oscar: i didn’t mean to send that oscar: ok i mean i did but not like this oscar: i am going to jump into traffic

you bit your lip, torn between laughing at his very obvious meltdown and screaming because holy shit, oscar just told you he loves you.

before he could actually throw himself into oncoming traffic, you typed back.

you: so you love me, huh?

the typing bubble appeared. stopped. appeared again.

then:

oscar: erm. yeah?

you grinned, your heart flipping as you typed back.

you: good. because i love you too.

the typing bubble stayed still for a long time. then:

oscar: okay i take it back, this was the perfect way to say it.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[bunni-v1]

What do we have here…?

🍓Couldn’t get sending Harumasa nudes out of my head and then I saw @mini-ism post about Caesar going through Livhters phone and had Jimmy Neutron Brain blast. (My moots are so awesome and talented and everyone should give them love). Like... what DO they have on their phone, if anything? So that's what this is. Also took this as my chance to write for my favorite straight white cat boy Seth.

Tw: Nsfw; recording during sex; rough sex (all); somnophilia (Harumasa); breeding kink (Seth); bottom harumasa and seth; Mommy kink (seth); grammar errors (inevitable)

Info: Fem bodied reader (no pronouns i think? use of mommy though); Harumasa x Reader; Lighter x Reader; Seth x Reader; I tried to add plot but who am I kidding this is porn

Harumasa Asaba

The first time Asaba Harumasa asked to record you during sex, you declined. He'd wanted it so he could use it at work, during those days that he really needed you most. It's not like you were shy about your body, especially not with him. He'd seen you naked a million times and done more than just admire your body on numerous occasions. You just didn't want to do it, not with the risk of his very important friends possibly seeing them. The idea of sweet Sokaku sneaking on his phone and somehow finding the videos was mortifying, to say the least. The consequences afterward would probably be even worse, you'd never be able to look Yanagi in the eyes again.

So, you told him no, and who is Asaba to press you on something like that. Feminism was hot, or whatever. He just wanted to see what he could get away with. Little did he know he planted a seed in your brain that kept on growing and growing until, one night, you asked him if he was still into the whole recording you thing.

He wanted to say "No fucking duh." But instead, he smiled and nodded all cute-like, "Oh? I thought you didn't want to? Don't tell me you've been holding out on me now..." And thus began your unexpected obsession with making amateur porn.

Harumasa isn't an idiot, of course, he keeps everything in a hidden folder within a hidden folder, accessible via a password only he knows. (He would give up any chance at living a long life to keep Sokaku as far away from his porn stash as possible). It's surprisingly well organized, coming from him at least. Categorized by type (picture and videos), who was topping, and which kinks you indulged in.

His personal favorites, though, are saved in a separate folder within those already existing folders. They're his go-to when he's feeling so very pent up at work and needs release fast enough that Yanagi won't come looking for him. Like right now, the phone under the desk and the volume just loud enough that only he could make it out by straining his ears. A little treat for his hard work today.

The first one starts out with shaky camera work -- you'd grabbed and started recording in a hurry like you realized this one would make good content for him. (You were right, as usual). The sun is peaking through the curtains of his dark apartment, and with the light, he can just barely make out his sleeping face. You pan the camera down, and one of your hands is gently tracing along his slowly hardening cock, already free and begging for you to suck it. It jumps in your hand as you rub the tip, and then all of a sudden the camera flips and he gets to see your face. You have eyebags under your eyes and your hair is sticking out in several places with little bruises littering your collarbones. Just how he likes you. Shuffling follows and the camera jerks around awkwardly until it rests on his abdomen and refocuses on you, dick still in hand and eyes blinking innocently at the camera.

You tap the tip against your cheek a few times, Harumasa's hips pressing up into your hand as you do so. You smile a little at him offscreen, and it's almost affectionate until you swallow him down in one go. What you can't fit in your mouth you fist with your hand, bobbing in a perfectly trained rhythm that he knows would have him seeing stars. His hips awkwardly jerk, but you take him so well that it doesn't even bother you. The camera shifts again as Harumasa himself begins to wake up. A confused, "Oh fuck," is moaned out in the background, just barely audible over the heavenly sound of you sucking and swallowing him up. Then, your eyes flutter up, right as a hand fists its way into your hair. The video cuts shortly after that, leaving the rest of it up to his impeccable memory.

The next one is a bit longer, and honestly humiliating for him, but he can't get enough of it. Again you're holding the camera, but this time he is awake. It starts with your hand on his ass, marked with the harsh imprint of your strikes, bright and red and sure to bruise (it did). You make sure to get a good angle of yourself pounding him into the sheets, the sounds of squelching mixed with incoherent babbling from him something sinful. You glide your hand over his bare back, camera following along, then tug on his fluffy black hair. He lets out a pathetic whine as you push the camera into his fucked out face. Cheeks red, drool dripping down his chin, eyes watery and unfocused. It's all he can do to answer you when you finally ask, "You were a good boy today, weren't you Harumasa? Tell the camera how good you were today."

"Yessss, 'm a very good boy~" He hiccups out through your harsh thrusts.

You coo at him, pressing a little kiss to his cheek which gets him smiling like a moron in the video, "You know what good boys get to do, right?"

He visibly jolts in the frame, right as you wrap your pretty fingers around his swollen cock just out of frame. A whorish moan leaves his mouth as you pick up the pace, determined to make him cum. His whole face twists in pleasure as he cries out your name, releasing all over your fingers and the sheets. The camera flips, and you're giggling as you spread the covered hand playfully for the camera. "Such a good boy~" You hum, and the video cuts as you begin sucking each finger clean.

The last one he has, which is the only one where he's holding the camera, is his personal favorite. You're in the Section 6 office, legs spread out and perched wobbly on the arms of his desk chair. Miyabi, Yanagi, and Sokaku were all out for lunch and you'd been so sweet to bring him the one he'd 'accidentally' forgotten at home. His pace was fast and rough as he slammed into you. He preferred taking things slow, but even he had to admit he liked the thrill of a quicky in such an open area. One hand comes down to hold your thigh at a different angle, and you let out the squeakiest excuse for his name he'd ever heard. "I thought you didn't want them to see you like this... you're awfully contradictory~" He teases from behind the camera, not that you have it in you to do anything but whine at him. "What would Miyabi think of you..." He tuts, "and poor Tsukishiro might have a heart attack... how shameless can you be?"

He zooms in on your face, head thrown back and mouth stuck wide open with empty gasps just begging to become moans. Your body shakes as his thrusts become less fast and more rough, skin slapping against skin in the quiet office on the very desk he was scrolling through his phone. He can see his name form on your lips.

"Harumasa," Came Yanagi's voice instead, he jumps, quickly locking his phone and slipping it into his pocket, "I understand paperwork is boring, but scrolling on your phone is-"

"Unacceptable, I know," He sighs, "I'm getting to it I promise. Just... right after a quick bathroom break, okay?"

He's up and gone before she can respond, already deciding which video he should watch to fix his little issue. Oh! Or he could ask you for a new one right now, it'd been a minute since he'd gotten you masturbating.

Lighter Lorenz

Lighter didn't get the appeal of it at first. Why would he settle for videos and pictures when the real thing was so much better? Just didn't make sense to him, but sure, he'd let you do what you want. You were damn adorable with how excited you got when he said yes to another video or picture.

It wasn't until an extended period of time away from you that he realized how badly he was missing out. He was horny and you were too far away to do anything about it and no matter what he imagined he could not get off for the life of him. So, he caves and asks you to send one of those videos you'd made. It was probably the fastest he'd cum by himself since getting with you.

Lighter admits defeat, you were right, those videos are something else. Not nearly as good as the real thing, but close enough when he needed it. He's very selective about what does and does not get filmed though. There are some moments he wants to keep just between the two of you, no cameras or anything like that. However, once he gets into it he really gets into it, and those videos are cinema for amateur pornstars.

He keeps the videos and pictures in an unlabeled folder on his phone, not nearly as meticulous about hiding it as Harumasa or Seth might be. He didn't have the risk factor, the girls wouldn't go through his phone without asking first, and he wasn't careless enough to leave it out for others to dig through its contents. He also wasn't stupid enough to look through his little stash with others around, always waiting until he was completely isolated to look.

You were out for the night doing something or another for someone, too kind for your own good, leaving only Lighter and his hand to keep his dick company. He clicks open the folder, smiling to himself when he's met with pretty pictures of you.

He scrolls a bit, then clicks on a more recently recorded one. The camera is focused on your stomach, just low enough that he can see the flared red tip of his dick teasing your swollen clit. A deep chuckle sounds from behind the camera, followed by a grumpy little whine from you. He takes the hint, sliding his tip down and slowly dipping it into your drooling cunt. You let out the cutest squeal as he stretches you out, his hips angling up so his cock presses against your tummy.

The camera zooms in on the outline of his tip, pressing just below your navel. You babble something incoherent, and Lighter hums like it's the most interesting thing in the world. His calloused hand comes into view, tracing the outline with a low hiss. "Fuck, you feel me inside baby?" You mumble something out again, a much smaller hand sliding under his. He presses down as you trace a finger over him, and a whorish moan leaves your mouth. He ruts himself into you, hand pressing down so both of you could feel just how deep inside he was. Your body trembles with each hard thrust, and the camera work gets shakier and shakier the louder Lighter gets until it stops altogether after an annoyed groan — literally thrown across the room so he could focus more on you.

The next one he picks among a sea of delicacies is an older one, one of the first he'd agreed to make with you. The camera is set up on the nightstand, angled nicely so he could see your pretty tits bouncing with each thrust of his hips up into yours. You're wearing his scarf around your neck, and you look like sex incarnate hopping up and down on him.

His veiny hands grab at your hips, guiding each movement with careful precision. You're leaned back, head thrown to the sky as you call his name like a mantra. Each thrust makes your voice peak a little higher, the only thing louder being the slap of wet skin on skin. One particularly rough thrust has you keening, falling forward to press your sweaty face to his just out of frame. He can see your hips roll desperately into his own for all of a few seconds before his hands wrap around your thighs to hoist you up so he can bully his cock into your abused pussy. The whole bed shakes as the headboard slams into the wall, the camera tumbling to the ground forgotten as it records your brainless sobs over the sound of his brutal pace. A weird habit he’s noticed consistently in these videos.

He's close, he can feel it, as he strokes himself a little faster. Just needed the perfect thing to push him over the edge. He taps one of your personal favorites, citing it as 'the most fun' for you to film. In it, he is holding the camera down, you're kneeling between his legs, head resting on his thigh as your deft fingers play with his member. You smile up at him, sliding the bead of precum around the tip like a game.

He's huge in your hand, and it's a miracle you manage to fit your slim fingers around his fat cock. Slowly stroking down, then back up, your thumb sure to run over that vein that made his toes curl. You keep a steady pace, teasing him with the sweetest grin on your face.

"Feelin' good baby?" You purr up at him, amused at what is likely a very red faced Lighter.

There's an audible swallow, and the camera shakes as he answers, "Real good. Takin' good care 'f me."

You giggle, satisfied with the answer enough to lean down and start sucking on his balls. Your other hand scraped against his thigh, the muscles beneath tensing at the sensation. The sound of your sucking, mixed in with his little whimpers has him cumming prematurely, not that it stops him from fucking his hand through his orgasm. The video continues on like that, you teasing him to the edge and denying him his orgasm like a monster. Unlike then, he had quiet the mess to clean up now.

He thinks better of just cleaning it up, though. Instead snapping a quick picture and sending it to you with a little, 'Miss you.'

Seth Lowell

Seth is an incredibly polite, considerate, sweetheart who would never in a million years dream of asking to record you during sex. He might just be the most vanilla guy in all of New Eirdu, and recording seems... a little violating of your privacy. It's not something he considers an option.

Until one day, after a very long week where you and Seth hadn't seen each other for more than a few hours thanks to his work schedule. He's lying in the dorms, texting you about mundane tasks when you throw out how much you miss him. He obviously misses you too, and says so. You ask him if he would like to see how much you miss him, and the sweet thing he is the undertone goes right over his head. He expects a picture of you maybe pouting, doing something you would typically do together by yourself.

When he opens it he's greeted by you, two fingers deep in your own cunt, pretty juices glistening in the dim lighting of your bedroom -- oh god is that his shirt you're wearing? He short circuits, literally just staring slack-jawed at the phone for god knows how long until one of his buddies comes in and starts poking fun at him. He slams the phone down, and he makes it home in record time. That was all the convincing he needed from you to record your (rather basic) sexual escapades.

Seth does not save the videos, ever. They're all in your text chain, pinned there for easy access, but he refuses to keep them in his album. Way too risky for him with his family and his coworkers and... well... knowing himself. They're really only there for you, he doesn't have any free time to watch them and get off. He does, however like watching them when he's alone in the dorms for the night. Just a nice reminder of what he'll be doing next time he sees you.

Like this one, where the camera is pointed down on him, red-faced and teary-eyed as you ride him like no tomorrow. His chest is littered with little purple love bites, and your fingers splay out across them as you roll your hips deliciously against him. He whimpers in the video, shying away from the camera. The hand on his chest reaches over to flick his already too-hard nipple, twisting it a little. A giggle bubbles out of your chest when he keens.

"You like it when I ride you, don't you Seth...?" You coo, tracing your fingers over to the other nipple to give it attention. He nods with a whine, biting back his moans. You pinch him harshly as punishment, "Use your words."

He sighs, humiliated at the degradation, but swallows his pride and responds, "Yes Mommy."

He grimaces at his own voice, quickly closing out of the video to find something a little less... vocal. He settles on one where the camera is pointed down, you're wearing pretty blue lingerie. In this one, he's between your legs, ears flattened back as he gives you little kitten licks to your sensitive bud. The rough texture of his tongue makes your legs twitch, nearly closing on him, but fighting themselves back open.

He looks up to the camera, or more so past it, to look at you just begging for approval. Your hand comes into the frame, rubbing at one of his ears encouragingly. He lights up, taking the sign as his chance to swallow you down. He dives in like a kitten into milk, slurping and sucking with your hand guiding his movements. Your little sighs of approval get his tail curling up in the air behind him. Your little happy kitty, servicing you like the queen you are. “Good boy~” You coo so sweetly, and his tail twitches excitedly behind him.

He smiles fondly at the phone, was it weird to find it more cute than hot. Maybe he was too lovestruck. It didn't matter too much to him as he found one that you had favorited in the chat. He... didn't remember this one at all from the thumbnail, it got him curious.

The first thing he's greeted by is you face down in the sheets, his pale hand pushing your head into the pillows. Then he hears the wet slapping of skin, the camera following down to show where he was fucking you from behind. His entire abdomen is literally shimmering with a mix of your and his cum, the sticky white substance quite literally all over your back and his hands now that he was looking.

This was... he can't believe he had the mental capacity to think to record himself fucking you during his heat. His cock stirs in his pants, but he's too curious to stop watching before he screws himself over too much. The camera shifts as he leans over you, giving it a perfect view as he bites into the back of your neck. Your face is stained with tears, and your mouth is wide open with pleasure -- no sound escaped though, and Seth realizes that he'd fucked your throat raw in this video.

"Gonna fuck you full of my kits, wanna make you a real Mommy. That's okay, right? You wanna have my babies too don't you?" his rough voice mumbles into your skin, and you only nod in response, too fucked out to really do anything else.

He thinks the video will end there, but instead, the camera pulls up again as Seth pulls out. A broken, muted wail leaves you at the loss, but Seth ignores it in favor of recording your used pussy. Globs of cum leak out of it, down your thighs, and Seth's nimble fingers scoop it up and shove it back inside like in a trance. He clicks his phone off at that, way too flustered at the sight.

A frustrated sigh leaves his lips as he falls back into the uncomfortable bedding of the dorm. Great, now he was rock-hard and had no way of getting off. He had work in two hours, but there was no way he'd be getting any sleep like this. He frowns at his lock screen, a picture of the two of you together. You wouldn't mind if he came home and interrupted your rest that much, would you?

[usersanon]

Please be aware of the user @/saintsugu also known as Ezra.

Past pseudonyms include (but are not limited to: @/aces_high

I never thought that I would have to create a post like this. In my near 12 years on the internet, I never thought I would have to write down the words I am about to type, especially about a fellow fanfic creator, one I used to enjoy before I found out about the type of person he really is. I apologise for the long post, however I want to make sure I am as thorough as possible so I can bring this person to justice.

Before opening the read more/ continuing with this post, please read the trigger warnings. This will deal with heavy topics, ones that make me sick to my stomach. I apologise for all of the censoring in this post as well.

TW: P*DOPHILIA, UNDER*GE, SEXUALIZATION OF EDS AND SH

I would just like to start off by saying how difficult this post is for me to write. I have had to take multiple breaks while typing this out. I have felt disgusted since I first saw the posts on his twitter. Like I need to take a shower and scrub myself clean, however, at the same time I feel like I cannot sit idly by while Ezra still has a platform.

The posts I have seen on his twitter, what he actively endorses is just disgusting and predatory in nature. I have done my best to censor them so as to not continue the spread of such material. As of the time of this post, his twitter is still public.

HIS TWITTER (X) IS CURRENTLY UNDER THE NAME @/ezr_ace

First, I’ll give evidence I have to prove that the twitter account stated above is in fact his. I was wary at first as well, however, I believe this evidence in fact proves that beyond reasonable doubt that the account is his.

The obvious reasoning is as follows: Ezra goes by the pseudonym Ezra currently, and has gone by the pseudonym Ace in the past. Both the twitter account and his tumblr state that he is 21. Both twitter and tumblr themes are the same in nature, featuring manga panels of Suguru edited in the same way.

If you’re familiar with Ezra at all, you would know that they are very close with another user, Flora, also known as @/fyogasm. Previously known as @/pussydrunkfyodor on tumblr. When going through the followers of this twitter account, I noticed someone by the name of Flora following him (one of about 34 followers), with the user @/floratumblr. This account had their tumblr linked in the bio of the profile, and it led straight to Flora’s tumblr. Screen recording is posted below:

UPDATE: since Ezra has been called out, Flora has unfollowed Ezra’s Twitter as well as deleted her account. I can only assume it is to try and dodge the backlash of being associated with him. Here are screenshots proving they are moots/ interacting with each other.

Note: I do not know what this means for the content of Flora’s character. All I can say for certain is that she is close friends with him (to the point they have each others numbers), and that she follows his Twitter. I did not dive deep into her Twitter before she deleted it. But I can say that I do believe she knew the content he was posting about, otherwise she wouldn’t have deleted her Twitter the second he was called out while remaining mutuals with him on tumblr.

UPDATE 1/19/24 1:50 pm: Since creating this post, Flora has reached out and stated that they have broken all contact with Ezra. They state that they are not frequently on twitter, and was completely unaware of the type of content he was posting on the account. They state that the content found on the account has made them feel sick and that they are no longer friends anymore.

Back to the main point, this only adds to the similarities listed above. A close mutual that he has been seen actively talking to on his tumblr also follows him on twitter, endorsing his behavior. This alone was too much for me to ignore. However, one final factor came into play that solidifies that user ezr_ace and user saintsugu are the same Ezra.

He not only posted to his tumblr about hateful anon messages, but also his twitter at the same time. Right after the messages were sent, he tweeted the following, as well as posted the following messages on his tumblr. Screenshots with time stamps posted below:

This for me, confirms that the two accounts are the same. There are simply too many coincidences for me to ignore. I feel that there is no argument about the validity of the accounts, as there are just too many similarities to ignore. Now, I can delve into what the post is really about. The content of the Twitter account.

P*DOPHILLIC ACTIONS AND UNDRE*GE CONTENT.

To put it simply, I was horrified when I first opened the profile to be greeted with Shotacon artwork. Full on artwork of an adult Toji a*saulting a child Gojo. In this artwork, Gojo looks as if he can be no older than 10. Most of the image is censored for obvious reasons, however, part of the screenshot appears in the video above as well. Proving that it cannot have been doctored in any way.

As you can see, the post is tagged with tw sh*ta. For anyone unaware, the definition of Sh*ta is as follows: “Sh*ta is a term used in manga and anime fandoms to indicate sex involving an under*ge boy.” (Fanlore.org) Aka, CP.

It is disgusting to see someone who I once enjoyed, once trusted, interact with literal cp. Drawing or not, the effect of it is still massive. Viewing children (ANYONE UNDER*GE) in a sexual nature is harmful to everyone. It breaches past dark content into something horrible. Something dangerous.

I felt sick seeing someone be as brazen as to repost a picture of a child being a*saulted. To get off on it. It is p*dophilic. That is the only way it can be put.

Further on this, he has written smut of, in his words, “not necessarily under*ge” Suguru in highschool. There is a whole thread on it on his profile, however, I will not be showing it here. The screenshot below describes the nature of the whole post from his own words.

When I first read “not necessarily under*ge”, my first and only question was literally, what the fuck does that mean? Either he is under*ge or not. There is not some fuzzy grey area coating the world between adults and children.

But sure, give him the benefit of the doubt. That does not excuse him liking multiple posts tagged with under*ge content. The most recent being less than an hour ago. Posts censored to the best of my ability below.

These posts all point to the same thing. The disgusting, undeniable truth that this man is attracted to under*ge content. Content depicting minors in sexual scenarios. Content that no member of society should ever consume. He is a p*dophile. For viewing this content of his own accord. For liking it, for reblogging it. For creating it on his own. He is a disgusting person.

FOLLOWING MINORS.

Him interacting with content like that above, consuming it in any capacity at all makes him unsafe to be around. For anyone. Especially minors.

Even though his blog is 18+, even though he preaches that minors should stay away from his blog. He still found himself following a 16 year old. Becoming mutuals with them. The fact this person is 16 is clearly displayed on their blog as well (in their pinned post).

Screenshots shown below. The individual’s user is censored out as, once again, they are a minor and I don’t feel they should have to be wrapped up in this mess.

Once again, Ezra is someone who preaches about minors staying out of adult spaces. Multiple times he has complained on his blog about minors following him and having to block them. You would think he does the same and would be more careful about curating his online spaces, however it he fails to do that.

I don’t believe this can be boiled down to a simple case of missing the age in their bio— this user has their age in their pinned post, as well as their about me. Along with the sexualisation of minors prevalent on his Twitter, it makes me extremely uncomfortable to know that he is following a minor in any capacity. I’m sure it would make anyone.

SEXUALIZING EDS AND SH.

To end the laundry list of posts on his twitter, we have him writing smut glorifying eds, as well as liking posts depicting sh in a sexual light. As always, screenshots are shown below, censored to the best of my ability.

In the post listed above, Suguru is described in a way that is hard to stomach. While it is not nearly as bad as everything else stated above, I feel it is still necessary to include, especially because in this pairing he has often described and implied Suguru to be a minor. There is a line and he has crossed it several times, this is just another example of such. Serving as the cherry on top to further demonstrate his mindset.

Dark content and discussion of these subjects in fiction are not the problem. The disturbing part of this is that Ezra often uses these tropes within his min*r/adult sexual fantasies, and when paired with the sh*ta and under*ge content, leaves a very poor taste in the mouth. It comes across as not only a gross f*tishization, but a gross f*tishization of taking advantage of a minor that way.

A DISCUSSION ON THE LIMITS OF DARK CONTENT.

In this section, I feel that it is important to touch on how dark content plays into all of this. I’d like to expressly state that this is NOT a condemnation of dark content or its consumption.

Dark fiction and dark content are a fine line. It’s a fantastic tool for exploring taboos and emotions or experiences that aren’t often talked about openly. DC creates what is essentially a safe space for exploring things that are not typically done or seen in the real world, with the knowledge that writing or engaging with it does not necessarily mean condoning it. That being said, this callout post is NOT about being anti-dc. Dark content is a literary or artistic tool. Keeping all of this in mind, to actively engage with sh*ta content in which a character is depicted sexually not only as a minor, but as a child, and to be sexually aroused by that image is the definition of p*dophilia. Writing or drawing children and engaging with that content in a sexual capacity is p*dophilia and at the very least, has p*dophilic tendencies. This is not dark content, this is p*dophilia.

It is one thing to write or create dark fiction between adults for the purpose of gratification or exploration of social dynamics and it is entirely another to engage with art of a child engaging in sexual acts with an adult for (seemingly) the intent purpose of sexual gratification. Everyone draws their own line, but it is also important to acknowledge that there are some depictions of taboo subjects that border (if not fully step-into) harmful, p*dophilic content that perpetuates behavior and mental tendencies that truly are dangerous.

To engage with a drawing of a child and a full grown adult in sexual acts for the purpose of sexual gratification is incredibly fucked up. And the fact that minor and adult p*rnography are not just common, but dominating Ezra's twitter page, should be an absolute red flag. It’s okay to acknowledge that dark content is a medium for fiction while also acknowledging that there are some ways of engaging with it that are harmful, especially when it is so glaringly obvious that the content is between a child and an adult (the art I am talking about specifically really is a child. I don’t urge anyone to look at it, but it is gojo depicted as a child of maybe 8 - 10 years old. I’m not using the term child as an umbrella term for minors here).

The problem, stated very plainly, is that the post/s he is engaging with are sexual depictions of a child with the purpose of sexual gratification. That’s the point here. It’s not the dark content, but rather that he is retweeting posts depicting a child of about 8-10 engaged in sexual acts and created for the purpose of sexual gratification.

Once again, this is not a condemnation of dark content. Dark content can be used in so many valuable ways— facing trauma, dealing with taboo subjects, exploring the literary world in a safe and healthy way. As someone who actively consumes dark content, I will be the first to tell you this. However there should always be limits to the types of content produced. Gaining any kind of gratification from looking at a child being a*saulted is disgusting. It is p*dophillic. Especially when he actively engages with minors on his platform.

This is not a conversation of morals— which side is right and wrong. But rather a conversation about the safety of children. This is not a conversation about ageing up as that is not what he is doing. The characters being depicted here are not being aged up, rather are being depicted as minors, or literal children being used for the sexual gratification of adults.

The issue here is a p*dophile. Not dark content. Not anything else.

CONCLUSION.

I’ll be honest, post was extremely hard for me to create. Discovering that someone I once thought was close to me is this kind of person feels disgusting and abhorrent. I honestly wish I never had the displeasure of meeting them in the first place.

Hopefully, by the end of this post you are able to see the kind of person Ezra really is. I could not be silent about this. I knew that the moment all I found all of this out. This post has been very difficult for me to write, but I hope by the end of it some good will come. Some people will be able to avoid interacting with this man.

I believe Ezra needs professional help, and truly hope that he is able to get it some day soon.

Please be careful with who you interact with on the Internet. Adults and minors alike, there are predators everywhere. Please try your best to stay safe in your own online spaces. All of the love in my heart goes out to anyone who has survived child expl*itation. I hope for nothing but the best for you in the future.

Thank you all for taking the time to read this post. I know it is long and triggering for most people. I hope you all have wonderful days and try your best to take care of yourself.

Listed below are some important numbers I would like to bring awareness to before this post is over.

National Child Ab*se Hotline (USA): 1-800-422-4453

National Center for Missing and Exploited Children (USA): 1-800-843-5678

The National Sexual A*sault Hotline (USA): 1-800-656-4673

Childline (UK): 0800-1111

International Child Helpline: 116-111

TLDR: Ezra has a Twitter account where he retweeted artwork of a child gojo being a*saulted by an adult toji. He liked as well as created posts depicting under*ge characters (literally tagged with ‘under*ge’). All while being mutuals with a 16 year old on tumblr.

Tags used to try and spread awareness. I tried to mostly include fandoms that he is in.

UPDATE: lmfao, he has since deleted the retweet of sh*ta gojo after he was called out. Literally proving that it was him.

[max-nico]

Would you like an excerpt from a DCXDP fic I'm never going to finish ? Too bad. It's already posted.

Feel free to add on, it's completely out of my hands now lol

Tw: fighting with parents, almost exclusively dialogue since it's unfinished

"Back again, are we?"

"Shut up."

Danny grins at Jason's pout. It's all sharp fangs and shark teeth, crammed into something much too wide to be wolfish.

"So, what'd your old man do?"

"The same shit as always." Jason scoffs, crossing his arms. "He even got on me for cursin' this time. Can you believe that? Like that windbag has any right to boss me around..."

"I mean, isn't he your legal guardian and you his sidekick?"

"I ain't no sidekick! We're partners!"

Danny levels the eleven year old with a flat look. "I'm having a hard time believing you. Either way, he's still your legal guardian so he does, unfortunately, have some right to boss you around."

"I thought you were s'posed to be agreeing with me."

"And when have I ever done that?"

"Not a damn time."

"Exactly."

A pause.

"You're annoying."

"Clearly I'm better than the old windbag back at home bossing you around, huh?"

"Don't say it so smugly, he's not a hard person to be better than."

"That's not what you were saying when he first took you in."

"I was stupid and naive back then, now I know better."

Danny snorts.

"Does he even know where you run off to after your arguments?"

"No, your ghost hoodoo shit disables all my trackers once I get a block away from your house."

Ah, his haunt is growing nicely then. Very good.

"So you're leading an overprotective Batman right to me? Wow, I'm really feeling the love here, Jason."

"Oh shut your gob man, he won't do nothing to you as long as I'm here."

"Less comforting than you think, but I appreciate the sentiment."

"Yeah whatever."

There's a thick pause between them. Danny doesn't take any mind to it, but he can see Jason growing more restless by the second.

"It's jus..." The boy starts to spill, a tiny quiver to his bottom lip. "He said something real mean to me... I-I don't think I wanna go back."

"What'd he say?"

"It's stupid..."

"Can't be that stupid if it hurt your feelings bad enough for you to run away again."

Jason is silent for another moment, his eyes flicking side to side as he argues with himself.

"H-He said that he ain't my daddy, and I need to shape up and stop making him act like one." He paraphrases. "I already know he's not my dad, I'm the one who said it first, but I don't- I can't- It's... If it's the truth, why'd it hurt so much when he said it?"

Danny's not really equipped to deal with big feelings like this, at least probably not in the way Jason needs. Being a therapist has always been his older sister's thing, Danny never really had a knack for it. He can try, though. He can help... Somewhat? He can sit with the kid, or talk him down, or maybe enable a bad habit or two for the night. Not a perfect solution, but it's what he's got in the meantime.

"Sometimes the truth hurts." Danny shrugs. "Maybe if you can change the truth or...? Actually, I don't fucking know. I was talking out of my ass."

"And when have you not done that?"

"Not a damn time."

"Exactly."

"You're such a little jerk!"

And then they're squabbling on the floor of Danny's house. It's nicer than most around Crime Alley, but the wood floors still give them splinters when they roll around. It's good, and so familiar to Jason he almost feels like he's home again.

When they've finally ceased their petty fight, Jason sighs, his training allowing him to be only sightly out of breath.

"You'll keep the bat away for a couple nights, won'tcha?"

"You know I try to keep him away from here every night."

"Y-Yeah, but try extra hard for tonight, kay?"

"You got it kiddo."

Bonus:

Bruce looks for Jason for three days before he turns up again. Every time he's gone looking for him, he ends up back at the batcave. It's the weirdest thing Bruce has ever seen.

Unfortunately, this is also grounds for getting magic users involved. How irritating.

Jason is like 11-12ish and was taken in by Bruce when he was a very early 10yrs old. Danny is barely 19. I have backstory for how he got where he is stored in my brain, but idk if I'm actually gonna write it.

Also, I am a good parent Bruce believer, but he is the smartest idiot alive. He's making a lot of mistakes, just at the cost of his relationship with his kids, unfortunately.

Askbox and DMs are open. I implore you to chat/interact with my posts. This is a safe space.

[thoughtdaughtersworld]

Silent Lullabies

Azriel X f!reader

Summary: There's an attack on Velaris and you and Azriel are struggling to reconnect after sudden events that leave the both of you broken beyond repair.

Warnings: miscarriage, angst, drinking and suicidal thoughts!!

Word count:  1.3K

Note: I've been debating posting this but I hope you all like it.

———————————————————————————

You’re at home when you feel a sudden shake in the Earth. You're at home alone because your mate had some work to do and even though he had trouble leaving you this late into your pregnancy, you had assured him that you were going to be okay. How cruel faith was. You  run to the nearest window and see people scrambling to get to safety. Velaris was under attack.

Your door busts open and you pick up Truthteller ready to defend yourself. “Y/n?” Azriel shouts frantically. “Azriel?” you call out panicked from your room. He rushes into the bedroom and the first thing you notice is the blood on his hand and he looked like he was about to throw up. 

“Are you alright?” He asks immediately, looking you up and down looking for injuries. You nod, placing both hands on his cheeks. “Are you?” Your gaze flickers back to the blood staining his hands.

 “I'm fine love, it's not mine” he reassures you. “Is everyone okay?” you ask worried about the others and azriel lets out a tired sigh, his fingers stroking your stomach. He didn't want to add to your already rising anxiety. “Everyones fine, we just need to get to the house of wind, Rhys and Cassian are on the front lines right now but it's going to be okay”.

You sigh and look at him “how are we gonna get there az, i can't fly or winnow when i'm pregnant” azriel rubs a hand over his face. He had completely forgotten that you can't winnow and he didn't want to risk that. “We’ll just have to run or something, i'll try to keep up” you add, attempting a weak smile, though the thought of running when you could barely make it through the house without losing your breath felt impossible.

He wanted to protest because the thought of putting you in discomfort was gnawing at him. “Az we need to go now” you say looking outside and seeing more people screaming and running. He grabs your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “No matter what you stay behind me and if there's any sign of trouble I want you to run okay?” he says and you open your mouth to argue, but he doesn’t give you the chance.

As you both make your way out, Azriels grip on your hand is tight as he leads you through the streets keeping you close to him. He had his other hand guiding your eyes away from the dead bodies that littered the ground. Azriel’s presence is the only thing keeping you grounded, his calm strength a fragile thread in the chaos.

You turn into a street and five men start approaching you. “If it isn't the shadowsinger and his little mate” the one leading sneers and the others chuckle darkly, their eyes glinting with malice. Azriel immediately pulls you closer to his side, his wings flaring slightly as his body shields you protectively. His posture is tense, his shadows coiled, but he knows he can’t act rashly, not with your life and the baby’s on the line.

 “Remember what i said, if this goes south, i want you to run. immediately” he orders, his voice low enough for only you to hear. You glance up at him, your heart hammering in your chest. His jaw is set, his hazel eyes sharp and focused, but beneath the steely exterior, you can sense his worry.

The lapdogs charge for azriel and you do everything you can to not freak out. Azriel moves with lethal grace, his shadows moving frantically. They seem to move in sync with his every move, attacking with a precision only Azriel is capable of. A few shadows detach, staying close to you, their presence a small comfort in the chaos. But even with his unmatched skill, the men are surprisingly skilled too, their movements sharp and coordinated. This was not an easy fight.

You feel someone's hand clamp on your mouth suddenly as you get dragged away. The last thing you hear is azriel screaming your name. You bite down hard on your captor’s hand. He roars in pain, releasing you just enough for you to twist out of his grasp, stumbling forward, barely catching yourself. 

You start running when you're dragged back by your hair “Let me go” you struggle against him and you feel a cold blade press against your throat making you freeze.

He leans in close, his voice low and cold “Not so tough now, are you?” his breath hot against your ear. “What do you want?” you spit, your voice steady despite the blade biting into your skin

His smirk widens “Oh aren't you tough” he mocks the dagger pressing harder against your skin. “What do you think I want, little girl?” you hiss “I am no girl” and you watch in disgust as he laughs “No, you're not, you're a pregnant girl, which makes you more valuable to me” your heart drops and the urge to protect burns so deep in your body. Not just yourself, but the life growing inside you.

He has no time to react as you take Truthteller and stab it in his neck with all the strength you can muster. He gasps and struggles for air, he tries to say something, but instead coughs up a lungful of blood before falling to the ground .His cries of pain turn into gurgled whimpers, and then silence. The only sound left is your labored breathing as you kneel over his lifeless body.

You fall to the ground exhausted as you stare at the blood all over you. Your entire body shakes as adrenaline courses through your veins. You begin to feel weak and lightheaded

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Azriel runs through the bodies he had just discarded, his eyes desperately searching for any sign of you. His heart pounding in his chest as he calls out your name, his voice getting more frantic. He should have been with you, he should have been there for you. If anything happened to you, he was never going to forgive himself–

He finally sees you. You were kneeling on the ground, your hands on your stomach, and your face was hauntingly pale. He rushes over to you, dropping to his knees in front of you. His eyes taking in your exhausted form and the exhaustion on your face.

You look up at azriel and the relief you felt was overwhelming. He wraps you in his arms. His face buried in your hair, his body shaking with a mixture of fear and relief. And then he began to cry. “I was so scared” his grip on you was tightening as he held you.

He took a shaky breath, “I should've been here” he whispered. “I should have been here to protect you”.  You gently place your hands on his cheeks, lifting his face to meet your gaze. “ it wasn't your fault”, you say softly, your voice firm “And besides, it looks like i did pretty  good on my own” you tease looking at the dead body beside you. 

He chuckles softly, “yeah you did good love”. He looks down at you again looking for injuries. Az are you and y/n okay? We just got rid of the attackers, where are you? Rhys voice booms in his ear. Yh we’re fine, on our way.

 Azriel stands up “Rhys is waiting for us, you ready?” he asks as he helps you stand up, but before you can answer, a sharp pain radiates through your stomach, stealing your breath. You clutch at Azriel’s arm, your face twisting in pain. “Something’s wrong” you say to azriel and his eyes widen as your hand flies to your stomach. “Y/n? what's wrong” his voice laces with worry. 

 Instinctively, your hands go to your stomach, and when you pull them back, your heart stops. Blood

[iguana-braces]

Back on my bullshit, continuing with these thoughts

tw: using kinks/sex as a manipulation tactic? Idk how to tag this but it's a darker take on the councilroom fight/Viktor's though process

( @taketwentyfive this started out as a reply to your last comment but then got a little out of hand)

I think the headcanon of established restraint-enjoyer Jayce adds more flavor to the councilroom fight scene because it would be such a manipulative power move on Viktor's behalf to do Jayce like that-- locking down his arms and pulling his head back, knowing that would essentially give Jayce's brain a hard reset so he'd stop attacking for a minute, giving Viktor time to try to talk things through and get Jayce on his side. It's not just a physical attack, it's a mental one too. But Viktor knows he needs to get through to Jayce somehow, because if Jayce isn't on Viktor's side, he's the enemy and he's in Viktor's way (hence his whole, "I sincerely hoped to avoid this" line).

But incredibly, Jayce stays focused enough to get himself free. Maybe, because of the Horrors™ he's experienced, his sex drive is justifiably deadened enough for Viktor's attack to have little to no effect. And now Viktor knows that he can't get Jayce on his side, the dominating power he had over Jayce is gone (same vibes as Jayce calling out Mel for manipulating him!).

So Jayce fights back, but then gets caught again and choked out!!!! I get that Marionette Vik didn't have any weapons of his own, but at that point, he's HOLDING JAYCE'S HAMMER and could've killed him with that. Instead Viktor's like, mm, lemme kill him in this incredibly intimate way so I can watch him struggle. Also, the fact that he lifts Jayce off the fucking floor????

Viktor is 100% on a power trip. At that point, he knows he's been rejected, even if it hasn't fully sank in yet, and he absolutely would've killed Jayce without a second thought if Mel hadn't stopped him. He wanted Jayce to suffer and he wanted him to feel entirely powerless as he was dying.

(he also does this AGAIN)

This got way darker and rambly than I intended 🫣 but there's so many layers there to explore

Like, Viktor was in his evil era here, so it'd be real interesting to see how this plays out in a post-canon, everyone lives fic where Jayvik or Meljayvik do have to reckon with the fact that Viktor did try to murder them (Jayce mostly) for a little while. Yes, Jayce also killed Viktor, but at least he was quick about it! One shot, no struggle!

[ctheathy]

hi omg would you be able to do a smut nine x reader hcs??? i love how u tend to make the reader dominant, i'd love if in these hcs nine is suchhh a sub but tries to deny it and act dominant when really he so isn't... by smut it can range from heavy making out/suggestive to full on smut idm, whatever u can think of :3 (if ur gonna do full on nsfw can nine eat out the reader pls pls (afab reader)) tysmmm !!!!

Nine NSFW Headcanons

Nine x Reader

Suggestive+NSFW Headcanons

Short Concept

Author's note: pfft- Nine would be making sounds that haven’t even been discovered by science yet

Nine/Reader [Romantic]

[Gender-neutral Darling|Female Darling|Male Darling]

Potential ⚠️TWs⚠️ :

Both reader+character are of legal age or aged-up for obvious reasons in this post!

These are smut headcanons, read at own risk. dom!Reader+sub!Nine • Partly !Female!Reader • 1/2 eating his darling out [Fem!reader] • Breast foreplay • Marking • Biting/nipping • Drooling/Salivating • 2/2 making out session [Gender-neutral!reader] • Gagging • You basically shove your tongue down his throat

- ½ Nine eating you out

I honestly just enjoy the idea that Nine is already quick to get hormonal and in the mood. But he gets in heat especially quick when you get a little too whiny and pouty. I just imagine you whimpering for one single time and his whole body would tense up, pressing his legs together and biting away at him bottom lip to the point it almost splits. Trying to keep himself from getting ...hard from something as simple as a subtle mewl. He is so weak towards you, your emotions and the way that you feel to the point any sense of self control can go out of the window. When you're showing signs of being turned on and when he can quite literally smell your arousal, he's gonna have to fight tooth and nail to not get aroused himself.

This is certainly not something that would have too much of an improbability of happening. As you see, the thing about Nine is that he can already be quite lustful in general due to his bottled up frustrations. Now add on several years of isolation from other creatures and you have a boy who hasn't satisfied his primal urges and inner desires for literal ages. But you can make all his anger, frustration and self-hatred turn into a desperate need and craving for you. You could enjoy taking away any sort of dignity and prideful nature that he has left when the intimacy gets to that point, before giving some of it back through your praise after the ordeal. You'd absolutely know him and his vulnerable spots good enough for you to really set him off, because at the end of the day, you'd always have him begging for more.

You could start off a bit simpler before allowing him to eat you out like that, but still feed into his uncontrollable horniness for you. You can begin with giving Nine the opportunity to touch your chest with his mouth, something despite with his shy embarrassment and hesitance, it being something he just couldn't say no to. You could just sit there and lean back all smugly, while Nine's on his paws and knees infront of you, shivering and head hanging down as he shakily reaches out to one of your breasts, fighting his dripping arousal from staring at your bare and exposed chest alone.

But that's a point of no return ...and to take it to the next level. After that heck of a fest Nine had with drooling all over your boobies, he'd definitely be more open and quick to agree to foreplay that includes him pleasing you in some manner, because ultimately, it really pleases him as well. Not only because your body shape and appearance triggers something inside of him, but because you trust him with your body. And that's how you two got to oral fixation, something Nine would want to think about it for a little while. I mean. HIS mouth?? DOWN there??? Though he would be lying if he wasn't intrigued by the idea. The way you excitedly spoke about it in detail got him excited too... And so, he would cave within under a week at max. Even with his denial, he would absolutely be the most eager in the ENTIRE world for that little taste of your bottom half and he would absolutely make sure that he wouldn’t let you down and leave you unsatisfied under any circumstance

And as soon as he gets one of the tips in his mouth, he could start to feel himself melt. It's just the softest and most squishy flesh he's ever felt in his life. His mouth would start watering the longer your breast is inside of him, and his saliva would slowly begin to seep all over your skin. He'd have his self-control at first, but it wouldn't take long before he'd needily start licking his drool over every inch of your chest as if trying to mark it. He'd be all over you and goes completely feral as soon as he feels your nipple hardening against his moist tongue, as he'd let out a soft moan while feeling that change in texture. Nine's tongue would just swirling around your chest, with his body shivering and trembling with every lick and swirl. He’d glance up at you with those pleading puppy-dog eyes for approval while you just look down at him with such a cheeky grin.

Nine would absolutely be reaching for your fluids like it’s a bottle of fresh water in the middle of the Sahara, he’s never wanted to try anything more in his whole life than he wants to have your sweet nectar right now. He would become so desperate and overstimulated that every second he’s away from it would seem like an eternity... and he'd just want the volcano to erupt in his mouth. If you could easily control yourself and just not let your climax happen. No matter if it's for the sake of teasing him or just having the self-control, this would only drive Nine further into going berserk. His entire existence would become centered around having that release in him one day, tasting you like you're the last meal on Mobius.

Nine would desperately try to keep his calm and pretend that he wouldn’t absolutely go crazy if he actually had a taste. He’d absolutely be in a huge need for more of you and it’d be such a spectacle. His face all red with him basically panting over you. And as soon as he'd even start, Nine wouldn’t be able to focus on any single thing at all. His senses would be completely overwhelmed from everything that’s going on because he’s not used to this kind of stuff at all. Even as he's the one eating you out, his own junk cannot help but keep pulsing as he continues doing it. He'd get a bit impatient and would really want more attention to be brought to his privates, so he might just start touching himself in the duration of the moment... which would definitely make him more vocal, even with his tongue in your folds. You could look down with amusement as he plays with himself, all while his needy moans begin echoing through the entrance of your body.

But Nine always seems to remain on high alert on what's happening to you physically. If you just so happened to let out any grunts or moaning noises, those sounds would go straight to in-between his legs. Any noise that indicates that you're enjoying yourself would definitely keep him going... Even if you're just breathing funnily, he'd get an adrenaline boost that motivates him to become more sensual with the movements of his tongue, getting more desperate to make sure to never fail you in this matter.

Though if you were the type to start squirming all over the place with his mouth still on you. Or if you were to rock your hips back and forth into his tongue, that's when he would just crumble and lose it. You'd just be using his tongue to make yourself feel good, something that turns him on so much more than he'd ever believe it would. His body would be going haywire and he would start gently biting and nipping on your most sensitive nerves to try and get even more of your juices, his tongue would be doing absolutely everything that it possibly could because he’s never been this aroused in his entire life. It would be a scenario that he will absolutely never get over and which he'd be utterly desperate to experience once again.

- Making out sessions

The thing about all of this that's the most exciting is just how absolutely convinced Nine is in his disliking towards being so vulnerable and in a submissive position, and yet he would be so incredibly needy for more. Even if there are moments where he doesn't enjoy being under your command, he would be begging you to continue, begging you to kiss him deeper, to go further than he's ever been, all for you. He must feel intimidated by how submissive he is around you, he must feel intimidated by how vulnerable you makes him feel, but he just can't stop, just can't stop wanting more of you and your sweet tongue.

The kisses that you give Nine is certainly something that manages to keep his on his toes. Though your pecks are as innocent and sloppy as it can be, every very time your mouth is on his, you manage to take control and shatter his mind little by little through the heat of the moment. You're always so teasing... pulling out and taking it back as soon as Nine is shown enjoying himself, keeping him so needy and so utterly horny for more while you feed him these little crumbs. As soon as you're slowly pressing your tongue to the back of his throat, you should purposely roll up your tongue as it's sliding down the back of his mouth. You'd have Nine gag at times with ease while his eyes keep rolling back with just how overstimulated he's getting. And with how teasing and playful you're being through the kiss, there's no way he'd be capable of keeping in his loud, pleading moans. He'd love the sensations so much but would feel so shameful for enjoying it as much as he does.

But at that point he would 100% be loudly begging for you. Crying out for more and more, for you to keep using your tongue on him because his brain is too overwhelmed with the intense pleasure he’s receiving to even really think about anything else other than how amazing it feels. I can picture him crying and sobbing, maybe even begging with you to take him to your room. He would become obsessed with that tongue of yours if you just kept it going for long enough.

He would have no choice in the matter, you would absolutely force him to look you right in the eyes as his vision blurred and his whole body trembled in a way he never thought possible. It would be so intense he'd think he was having a seizure. He would still find a way to keep trying to lock his eyes on yours to contain some sense of dominance, but his head would just be going back and forth, his tongue desperately reaching for yours whenever you pull back, needy to taste you again with his eyes rolling back and trying his absolute hardest to not explode. He couldn’t last much longer at that point, his body eager to betray him and his mouth and tongue would be yours further upon that point.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

The poor bastard would look like he’s being electrocuted, the moment he’d try to maintain eye contact he’d just go cross eyed. He’d be completely and utterly broken at this point. As soon as you release him and let go, he’d be a puddle on the ground with his mouth wide open and eyes rolled, just mumbling absolute nonsense while you gaze down at him. A lovestruck, heart-filled look in his eyes as soon as he manages to get back to Earth Mobius. I’d be genuinely surprised if he could even recognize his own name at that point because he’s just been reduced to a drooling puppy who wants to satisfy you.

Something you'll have to make sure he keeps doing with his bratty bottom energy

[lolacelest101]

No Need for Privacy Part 2

18+ MDNI

Hi Hi!! I want to start off by saying THANK YOU for all the support that you all gave my on my first part! I know I don't have a set schedule yet, but I feel like I definitely took too long to give y'all part 2 so here we go!! For this post you can read it as a one parter or you can go back to part one to read it then come back for this!

I hope you enjoy this one and as always HAPPY READING!

Word Count: 8109

TW: In this part, there is some really dark humor about serious topics including Su!sidal ideation and other dark topics. This is NOT meant to make fun of these topics. It was just meant as really dark and fucked up humor.

If this is a trigger for you PLEASE DON'T READ!!!

Summary: Y/N recently moved to Monaco for work with her best friends and is currently living with them in the same house. Sparks fly between Lando and Y/N, when Lando who is living next door catches Y/N in a spicy moment starting a secret romance that they have to hide from the public.

Themes: Lando!Norris x Fem!American!reader, next door neighbor, secret dating

Smutty tings: POV switch, Fem dom switch, oral fem receiving, mirror sex, p in v, unprotected sex (please practice safe sex!!!!), slight over stimulation, fingering, praise and degradation kink.

Y/N's POV

It’s been over a week of orientation at work with the girls and nonstop media obligations for Lando in preparation for the Monaco GP this coming weekend. The odds of seeing him are slim, especially since we’re sneaking around like teenagers behind everyone’s backs.

I’ve never been one to date in secret, but in my defense, I’ve never been involved with someone so well-known that fans and paparazzi needed to be factored into a relationship.

Today is media day for Lando, but he managed to text me earlier, letting me know he’d be able to leave early after finishing some interviews and a meeting. By the time I get home, he should already be free. He suggested I tell the girls I’m heading to the gym. But honestly, that excuse will sound unbelievable if I end up spending the night at his place.

My focus snaps back to the task at hand as Liana and Aaliyah approach my desk.

“Hey, girl. You need to take a break or get some fresh air. You’ve been sitting like this for the past hour,” Aaliyah says, her voice laced with concern.

Liana stands behind me and starts massaging my shoulders. “Look, this project isn’t going anywhere. Just get up and take a breather or something!”

I sigh, realizing they have a point. “You’re right, sadly. Fine!” I stand up, grabbing my phone and wallet. “Coffee break?”

They both nod in unison, and we head toward the elevator to grab some coffee from the third floor—the only place with decent coffee in the building.

“So, are we doing anything this Sunday? I heard Camille mention that a bunch of people are going to Jimmy’s and invited us,” Aaliyah says, practically vibrating with excitement.

“I’m down, as long as the grand prix is done by then. Traffic’s going to be insane,” I reply as we step into the elevator.

“Same here,” Liana agrees. “But what about tonight? I feel too bored to just sit at home doing nothing.”

“Oh!” Aaliyah’s eyes light up. “How about a movie night? 27 Dresses, The Princess Diaries 1… and 2,” she adds dramatically, grinning as Liana nods in agreement.

Shit. How am I going to get out of this one?

“Sorry, girls. You’ll have to watch without me. I have to finish the project tonight—or at least the PowerPoint. I don’t want to spend more time on it than I absolutely have to.” I try to sound apologetic, praying they don’t catch onto my lie.

I’ve never been a great liar, and these two know all my tells. Right now, I’m hoping they’ve forgotten them.

“Dude, leave work at work! Don’t stress yourself out. I know it’s easier said than done, but come on,” Liana scolds, launching into one of her motivational speeches about the importance of work-life balance as we wait for the coffee machine to finish brewing.

I raise my hand to make a peace offering. “Okay! How about this—let me work on my project tonight, and tomorrow, I’ll take you both to that Japanese restaurant we’ve been wanting to try. My treat.”

“Fine, but you better pinky swear on it because I swear…” Liana starts, clearly recalling the last few times I flaked.

I grin, extending my pinky. “Deal.”

-------------------

Later That Night

"Okay, girls, I’m going to get changed and work on the project. Have fun with the movies!" I call out, doing my best to sound completely unsuspicious.

What the hell is wrong with me? I’m so going to get caught. Movie Night Ditcher—that’s going to be my new nickname for a while. And when they find out I’ve been hiding a whole relationship behind their backs? Oh, it’ll be so much worse. If they even talk to me after that, it’ll only be for a few days—maybe a week. Anything longer would be borderline criminal.

Once I’m in my room, it’s time for Mission: Sneak Out. No, I can’t come up with a better name right now—how the fuck am I supposed to sneak out of a second-story window without breaking my neck?

I glance out the window, trying to gauge just how bad the fall would be. After spending far too long assessing the situation—long enough for it to seem borderline suicidal by society's standers—I decide that today is not the day I live out some cheesy teen rom-com moment. I’ll leave through the front door like the classy lady I am.

My focus snaps back as I hear the familiar Kim Possible text notification from my phone. Picking it up, I read the message from Lando.

LN 🪟🧡: Hey, cutie pie! I’m waiting on the sidewalk for you. Please don’t leave me hanging, princess—I’ve been dying to see you and touch you all day! 😽

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the instant, undeniable craving to feel his hands on me. Grabbing my laptop, I head downstairs. From the kitchen, I can hear Liana and Aaliyah debating over which movie to watch first while the popcorn machine hums in the background.

This is my chance.

Tiptoeing to the door, I carefully grip the handle and twist it as silently as possible. I slip outside, quickly flicking on the porch light before shutting the door behind me and locking it. The light will stay on until the sun fully sets, making my excuse a little more believable.

Just to keep the girls from freaking out, I shoot a text to our group chat:

Me: Hey loves! Decided to take my laptop out to the front yard for some fresh air and fewer distractions. Don’t worry about me!

Hopefully Liana wouldn't get all detective Sherlock Holmes —or worse, Criminal Minds profiler—on my ass. Hopefully.

As I sneak past the house’s front gate and step onto the sidewalk, strong yet gentle hands settle firmly on my hips, pulling me into a back hug.

Before my fight-or-flight instincts can kick in, I twist my head slightly and catch Lando’s cheeky smile over my shoulder. His grip tightens, tugging at the fabric of my flowing sundress and molding my curves against him.

"God, you smell amazing, Princess," Lando whispers in my ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down my spine.

"Glad you like it. It’s my favorite too," I reply, my voice soft as he leans closer, his lips pressing a tender kiss to my neck. The subtle floral scent of my perfume fills the space between us as he inhales deeply.

The heat of his lips on my skin sends an electric thrill through my body, pooling warmth in my core and nearly making me forget that we’re still outside, fully visible from the house.

"Okay, so what’s the plan? Hanging out at yours or...?" I ask, turning to face him as I try to gauge our options.

His eyes roam over me hungrily, lingering on every curve and inch of exposed skin. "I’ve got a reservation lined up for dinner, and then I thought I’d surprise you with something special... but after seeing you in this dress, I don’t know if I’ll even make it through dinner without losing my mind."

His gaze burns into me, his hunger palpable.

"Well then, Mr. Norris," I tease, a mischievous grin spreading across my face as I drape my arms around his neck, my fingers threading through his soft curls. "I guess we better make it to that reservation quickly—so we can move on to the more fun parts of the night."

Lando opened the passenger door of his sleek black McLaren, a playful smile on his lips as he gestured for me to get in. I oblige, sliding into the luxurious seat and fastening my seatbelt.

The drive to the restaurant takes about twenty minutes, but it feels much longer with one of his hands confidently resting on the steering wheel while the other lingers on my thigh. His fingers trace slow, deliberate circles on my skin, sending a ripple of heat through me that I try—and fail—to ignore.

By the time we pull up to the restaurant, my panties are already damp, and I’m silently begging the universe that nothing betrays me by seeping through.

Lando slides out of the driver’s seat with casual grace and quickly makes his way to my side. He opens the door with a flourish, extending his hand toward me.

"My lady," he says with a teasing lilt, his eyes glinting with mischief.

I place my hand in his, letting him help me out of the car. "Thank you," I reply, a grin tugging at the corners of my lips as our gazes lock.

Lando hands his keys to the valet with a nod before turning back to me, his hand lightly brushing the small of my back as he guides me toward the entrance.

Dim lights lined the stairs leading up to the restaurant's grand front door, where a man greeted us warmly and motioned us inside.

"Hello, Mr. Norris. Your table is ready on the private patio as requested," he said with a professional smile.

Lando gestured for him to lead the way. "Great, thank you."

I turned to Lando, my brows arching in surprise. "A private patio? Don’t you think that’s a bit much?"

He tugged me closer, his hand resting possessively on my hip. "Nothing is too much for you, princess. Plus, it has the best view—I know you’ll love it."

The waiter led us through a discreet, tucked-away hallway, hidden from the main dining area. As we stepped onto the patio, my breath caught. Before us was a perfectly set table overlooking the ocean, with the vibrant colors of the sunset painting the horizon. The table was adorned with delicate flowers and flickering candlelight that gave the scene an enchanting glow.

I turned to Lando, my heart full, and cupped his face gently in my hands. "I love it. It’s absolutely gorgeous." I pressed a soft butterfly kiss to his lips.

His lips curved into a satisfied smile. "I’m glad," he murmured, kissing me back. This time, his kiss deepened, more passionate now that the waiter had taken his cue to leave.

Pulling away reluctantly, he slid a chair out for me. "After you, my lady."

I smiled as I sat down, and the night began beautifully.

-------------

The sun had long dipped below the horizon, casting a soft glow over the patio as our conversation carried on effortlessly. Lando regaled me with hilarious stories about his chaotic childhood with his siblings and the adventures of his karting days, his animated expressions making me laugh so hard I nearly choked on a bite of chicken carbonara.

Every laugh, every glance felt natural, yet the subtle heat between us simmered just beneath the surface. His fingers occasionally brushed over mine, lingering a little longer each time, the casual touches growing more deliberate. With each graze of his skin against mine, the heat in my core deepened, the teasing connection between us becoming impossible to ignore.

My focus was momentarily interrupted by a notification on my phone. I excused myself, reaching into my purse to check the text from Aaliyah.

Ally 🪩💕: Hey girly!! You’ve been working on this thing for like 2 hours. We’re about to start PD1!! We miss your commentaries, GIRLLYYY!! 😩

Me: Hey love!! You two just watch it without me. I still need at least another hour on this thing. I PROMISE to annoy the shit out of you next time. Enjoy 😽!!

Sliding my phone back into my purse, I looked up to find Lando handing his card to the waiter. His brow furrowed slightly as he studied me. "The girls—are they worried?"

"No, they’re fine," I reassured him with a smile. "They just wanted me to join, but I told them I needed at least another hour."

"Alright then," he said, his lips curving into a mischievous grin. "Time to head home?"

The teasing glint in his eyes left no doubt about what he meant by home.

"Sounds good, but let me stop by the restroom first," I replied, matching his grin.

As I stood and turned, I could feel his gaze searing into my skin, setting every nerve alight.

"Enjoying the view?" I asked, my grin practically audible in my tone.

"Absolutely," Lando shot back, his own grin evident. "So hurry back."

After finishing in the restroom, I made my way back to the patio, where Lando stood waiting, leaning casually against the railing. His eyes lit up when he saw me, and he wasted no time stepping forward to meet me.

"All set?" he asked, his lips curving into a wicked grin.

I nodded, and without another word, he took my hand, pulling me toward the entrance. His movements were quick and deliberate as he retrieved the keys from the valet, thanking him with a brief nod.

Once inside the car, Lando revved the engine of his sleek McLaren, the low growl vibrating through the air. He shot me a glance, his eyes dark with intent. "Buckle up, princess. The faster we get home, the sooner I can have my way with you."

I barely managed to fasten my seatbelt before he hit the gas, the car roaring to life as we sped onto the open road. The city lights blurred around us, but my focus was entirely on him—and the way his free hand found its way to my thigh.

His touch was firm, deliberate, and impossibly distracting. His fingers traced slow, tantalizing patterns on the fabric of my dress, sending shivers through my body as the cool night air rushed in through the slightly cracked window.

His touch started slow, his fingers tracing light, teasing patterns on the fabric of my dress. "You’re so damn gorgeous, you know that?" he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire.

His hand didn’t stop moving, and as the car took a slight turn, the motion caused my dress—already riding up from the way I was sitting—to inch higher, baring more of my legs. Lando noticed instantly.

"Looks like this dress wants to cooperate with me tonight," he said, his tone dripping with amusement as his fingers brushed the newly exposed skin.

I gasped softly at the contact, my breath hitching as he let his fingers press just a little firmer, sliding further up my thigh. 

"Lando," I breathed, my voice betraying the way his touch was unraveling me.

"Yes, princess?" he asked, his lips quirking into a smirk as his fingers teased the sensitive skin just above my knee.

"You’re driving way too fast," I managed to say, though my words lacked conviction.

He chuckled, the sound deep and full of mischief. "I always drive fast, love. Besides, don’t act like you don’t love the adrenaline—just like you’re loving this."  his hand slipping higher, just under the hem of my dress, which had now ridden up enough to expose the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.

The combination of his touch and the hum of the engine sent a thrilling tension coursing through me. I gripped the edge of my seat, half from the speed and half from the way his hand kept inching closer to the heat pooling between my legs.

I bit my lip, my hands gripping the edge of the seat as his fingers made lazy circles , sending jolts of heat through my body.

"God, you’re so responsive," he said, his voice dripping with admiration and desire. His thumb brushed a little higher, just beneath the fabric of my dress, and my head fell back against the seat.

"Lando," I whispered, my tone equal parts plea and warning.

"Hmm?" he hummed, clearly enjoying every second of this. His fingers stayed just shy of where I needed him most, teasing me mercilessly.

"You’re going to kill me," I muttered, my voice breathless.

He laughed, his hand retreating slightly, but only to give my thigh a firm squeeze. "Not tonight, princess. Tonight, I’m going to keep you very much alive—and make sure everyone in the neighborhood knows exactly who makes you feel that way."

-------------------

By the time we reached his house, my heart was racing, and the heat between us was palpable. As soon as the car stopped, he was out and around to my side in an instant, opening the door for me. "Come on," he said, his voice full of promise as he took my hand and led me inside.

My heart thudded in my ears, a frantic rhythm fueled by excitement and nerves. I couldn’t help but wonder if the girls had seen us or heard the car pass by.

We rushed into the house, and as the front door clicked shut behind us, reality hit me all at once. I was in his house. He slept here, lived here, called this place home. These walls had witnessed so much of his life—friends, family, ex-girlfriends—both in moments of joy and sorrow.

The quiet hum of the outside world faded, replaced by a softer, warmer ambiance. A low melody drifted through the air—smooth jazz, wrapping itself around me like a cozy blanket.

“I didn’t know you were such a fan of calm music,” I teased, glancing at him with a playful smirk.

“Well, let me show you all the things about me you could fall in love with,” he replied with a soft chuckle.

The lighting was warm and inviting, golden hues glinting off polished surfaces. The simple yet elegant chandelier cast a gentle glow, complementing the room’s ambiance.

His words sent a flutter of butterflies through my stomach. He took my hand, lacing our fingers together as he led me deeper into the house.

I glanced around, taking in the space. It was effortlessly stylish yet distinctly him—comfortable, modern, and charmingly chaotic. A teetering stack of books rested precariously on the coffee table, with a few racing magazines tucked underneath. The oversized, plush couch had a throw blanket draped over one arm, the kind of detail that hinted at lazy afternoons and cozy evenings.

“It’s, uh... cozier than I expected,” I said, raising a brow at him.

Lando shrugged, following my gaze. “What can I say? I like a little organized chaos.” He flashed that boyish grin that never failed to disarm me.

I wandered further into the room, my fingers grazing the edge of the couch before stopping by the shelves near the window. They were lined with an eclectic mix of trophies, framed photos, and random trinkets. One photo in particular caught my eye—a candid shot of him laughing with his family at what looked like a barbecue.

Seeing that side of him made my chest tighten in the best way.

“You’re really just going to stand there judging my decor?” His voice, mockingly indignant, pulled me from my thoughts. “I thought you were here to spend time with me, not critique my vibe.”

I smirked, turning to face him with a playful glint in my eye. “I’m not judging, just... observing. You can tell a lot about a person from their living room.”

“Oh yeah?” he challenged, stepping closer. “And what does mine say about me?”

“That you’re sentimental... a little messy... but mostly just hopelessly charming,” I said, tilting my head as if scrutinizing him.

“Hopelessly charming?” he echoed, his grin widening as he stopped just a step away. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” I teased, crossing my arms.

“Too late.” He reached out, tugging me gently by the waist until I was pressed against him. “Besides, if I’m hopeless, it’s because of you.”

I rolled my eyes, laughing as I playfully shoved his chest. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he shot back, dipping his head until his nose brushed against mine.

Before I could respond, he pulled back slightly, his gaze softening. “Can I get you something? A drink, maybe?”

“A drink sounds perfect,” I said, following him into the kitchen.

The kitchen was as unassuming as the living room—sleek countertops, minimal clutter, save for a lone mug on the island that read “#1 Driver.”

He opened the fridge, glancing over his shoulder. “What’s your poison? Wine, something stronger, or one of my world-famous gin and tonics?”

I leaned against the counter, arching a brow. “World-famous, huh? Should I be honored?”

“Extremely,” he said with a straight face, pulling out a bottle of gin and setting it on the counter with a flourish. “You’re about to experience greatness.”

I laughed, watching as he moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, humming along to the music still drifting in from the other room. There was something magnetic about the way he moved—relaxed, confident, unapologetically himself.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” I said as he handed me a finished drink, complete with a perfectly sliced lime wedge on the rim.

“Maybe,” he admitted, clinking his glass gently against mine. “But only because I finally get to show you my world.”

I took a sip, savoring the crisp, refreshing taste. “Not bad,” I said with an approving nod.

“Not bad?” He clutched his chest dramatically. “That’s the best gin and tonic you’ll ever have.”

I laughed, setting my glass down and grabbing his hand. “Okay, Mr. World-Famous Bartender. Show me what else this place has to offer.”

“Gladly,” he replied, intertwining our fingers and gently nudging me so my back hit the kitchen island. “But first, there’s one rule.”

“Oh?” I asked, arching a brow. “What’s that?”

“Tonight, you let me show you exactly how beautiful you are—and how absolutely crazy you make me,” he said, caging me between his arms.

My brain short-circuited, imagining what he’d look like if he turned the yearning up just a bit more. I’d probably combust right then and there.

---------------

Lando’s POV

The daze in her eyes brought out a siren-like allure, making my brain spiral with questions about everything that had led to this moment. Her gaze wasn’t pleading for me to take control—it was imagining how good I’d look on my knees for her.

My eyes flicked between hers, smoldering with lust, and her pink-tinted lips, practically begging for my attention.

My arms stayed firmly in place, caging her in. “You’re such a naughty girl, you know that?” I murmured, a grin spreading across my face, helpless against the pull of her energy.

“What did I do?” she shot back, her expression a mix of mock shock and amusement, barely holding back her laughter. “You’re the one pinning me here like a prisoner.”

I leaned in closer, my lips brushing against the curve of her ear. “But you’re the one with those eyes,” I whispered, my voice low and teasing, “practically begging for me to get on my knees and let you have me in any way you want.”

Her breath hitched at my words, her cheeks flushing a shade deeper as my voice hung in the charged air between us. For a moment, she didn’t reply, her lips parting slightly, betraying her effort to keep control of the situation.

She tilted her chin up, regaining just enough composure to fire back, “Maybe I am. But are you brave enough to follow through?” Her tone was bold, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her excitement.

I chuckled softly, the sound rumbling low in my chest. “Oh, sweetheart,” I murmured, my lips brushing her earlobe again, “you have no idea how far I’m willing to go for you.”

Without waiting for a reply, I loosened my hold, my hands sliding down to rest at her hips. Slowly, I began to sink to my knees, keeping my eyes locked on hers. The moment was deliberate, unhurried, as if I had all the time in the world to unravel her. I want to unravel her, make her desire explode in ways she didn’t know she could.

Her breath quickened, her chest rising and falling in time with the pounding of her heart. She leaned back slightly against the counter for support, her fingers gripping the edge as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded.

“Still think I’m just talking big?” I teased, my voice husky as I placed a feather-light kiss on the inside of her wrist, trailing lower with each touch.

Her lips parted again, but no words came out—just a shaky exhale that sent a jolt of satisfaction straight through me.

Her fingers found their way into my hair, tugging lightly, testing how much control she could claim. I let her have it, for now, leaning into her touch as I kissed my way up her arm. Slowly, I raised her leg, placing her heel gently on my lap, the slit of her dress parting to reveal my next target. My lips moved from the arch of her foot, still adorned in her heels, climbing slowly up her thigh. I left wet, circular patterns with my tongue, just a hint of what my mouth was capable of, teasing her with the promise of what was yet to come. My fingers followed, brushing along her skin with a deliberate slowness, savoring the softness of her skin on my lips.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” she finally whispered, her voice thick with anticipation.

I grinned against her skin, my hands tightening slightly on her thigh as I pulled her closer. “Good,” I replied, my tone dripping with mischief. “I like living on the edge.”

And the thought of letting the night unravel like this sent a shiver down my spine, igniting a thrill that was all too evident in the tightening of my jeans. I was resolute—ready to give her exactly what she craved, and perhaps even push her boundaries just enough to leave her breathless. 

“Tell me,” she said, her voice low and commanding. “Should I have you eat my pussy out right here, right now? Or do you want to show me just how much of a good boy you can be for me?” She leaned forward, locking eyes with me, her fingers gently lifting my chin to meet her gaze.

Her dominant tone washed over me, stirring something deep within. All I could think about was touching her, tasting the heat of her desire.

“As you wish, my princess,” I whisper, my voice strained with hunger. “I’m yours to command.” My breath hitched, each word leaving my lips heavier with need, though I fought to maintain my composure, desperately trying not to let my desires slip through.

“Well then” she stands up straight as she grips the back of my hair just a bit tighter, gesturing to me to stand up as well. 

She stepped closer to me, and unbuttons my shirt slowly, letting her finger tips brush over my chest with a wave of heat and electricity that made my cock twitch.

I could only grovel for so long before I bailed on the whole thing. I wanted to grab her hips, place my throbbing cock at her entrance and lose myself in her until the neighbors came knocking at my door, wondering who was being murdered and expecting me to be the killer.

I took a deep breath, allowing myself to relax and embrace my vulnerability. I trusted her completely, and she sensed it.

With a swift motion, she slid my shirt off, letting it drop to the floor. Hooking her index finger inside the waistband of my pants, she guided me down the hallway toward the front door, where a large body mirror stood against the wall.

She released me momentarily to fetch a chair from the dining room just a few steps away. I watched her every movement, my desire for her touch intensifying. She positioned the chair in front of the mirror and sat upon it like a queen on her throne, as if it had been hers since the dawn of time.

“Well, my sweet boy, I want you to show me what your tongue can do before I decide if you’ve been good enough to taste my pleasure,” she purred, her voice dripping with seduction. She spread her legs, inviting me to kneel between them, then slid the straps of her dress down to her waist, exposing her toned breasts to my eager gaze.

My mouth watered at the sight, and all I could manage was a low, husky, “Yes, princess,” before my hands found her hips, and I began to suck and lick her nipples, savoring every moment.

heightened my desire as I marked her skin with bite marks and hickeys, each one igniting the fire between us.

“Fuck, baby, with the way you’re working your mouth, I might just want to use it all night,” she breathed, her words thick with lust as she tangled her fingers in my hair.

“You can use my mouth however you want, princess. You can even sit on it, and I’ll show you real talent,” I managed to whisper between kisses, my tongue flicking and teasing her nipples, eager to please her in every way.

“Well then, I might just take you up on that offer,” she said, grabbing my head and guiding me to lay on the floor in front of her. For a moment, I forgot she was facing the mirror.

She stood up, sliding her dress and panties down, leaving her clad only in heels. As she stepped by my face, I was treated to a perfect view of her glistening wetness hovering above me.

My tongue instinctively began to escape my mouth as she looked down, tilting her head with a playful smirk.

“Aw, is my sweet boy begging for a taste?” she teased, her tone a mix of pouting and mockery.

“Yes, princess, I need you,” I replied, my voice thick with lust and longing.

“Well then, show me,” she commanded, sinking to her knees and positioning her arousal over my mouth, her fingers weaving back into my hair.

Her hips began to grind against my mouth, her creamy arousal coating my tongue as she leaned back, resting a hand on my abs.

A part of me feared she might tease me, trying to slide away from my eager mouth. Without hesitation, I wrapped my arms around her thighs, pulling her hips close and tight against me.

The sound of her moans growing louder was music to my ears. “Fuck, princess, you taste so good; I want to devour you,” I murmured, my voice muffled as I pressed my tongue deeper into her, savoring every moment.

A part of me was curious how loud I could make her moan my name, imagining a tongue as wicked as venom the villain’s, but that was a fantasy that had no place in my mind at this moment.

I could feel her legs shaking as the first orgasm of the night washed over her.

“Fuck, Lando—” her words were swallowed by a moan as she rode out her high.

I didn’t want to stop, but I knew she would crave something a little… deeper.

“Fuck, princess, if I had known you were such a good rider, I would have let you take control from the first moment I saw you.” A smirk spread across my face, unable to hide the satisfaction and desire swelling within me, both emotionally and physically.

“Fuck, Lando, I’ve never felt this good,” she breathed, her voice heavy with drained adrenaline and satisfaction. A mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes as she added, “And you know what?”

She slid back to sit on my abdomen, allowing me to prop myself up slightly to meet her gaze with a questioning look.

“I want to try something new,” she said, her eyes locking onto mine with a playful innocence that hinted at her intentions.

“Which is?” I leaned in, craving the touch of her lips. Y/N moved closer, kissing me softly before teasingly licking the corner of my mouth, catching an escaped drop of her essence.

“Mmm, I do taste good. Anyway, I was thinking maybe you could train me on something,” a smirk blossomed on her lips.

“Why are you being so cryptic, princess?” I replied, my curiosity piqued as a smirk formed on my face. “You know I’ll be your good boy for the night; anything you want is a yes from me.”

“Well, I was thinking we could try…” Her cheeks flushed deeper as she leaned in to whisper her request in my ear, “anal training.”

Her voice was hot against my skin, and I could barely process what she had just said. My shocked expression spoke volumes, my thoughts racing faster than I could articulate.

She leaned back, her cheeks still flushed. “I mean, it’s a big ask. I would understand if you don’t want to,” a hint of embarrassment crept into her voice, snapping me out of my daze.

“Are you kidding? I really want to, but are you sure you want to do this? There are things we need to prepare for, right?” My mouth rambled on before my brain could catch up, and I noticed the shift in her expression as I spoke.

“Oh, that’s true. Makes sense. But are you actually down to do this later on?” Her face perked up with excitement as she regained her energy.

“Of course, but for now, use me as you need,” a soft smirk crossed my face. “You know, I’m totally down if you want to sit on my face again.” A small chuckle spilled from her mouth.

“Nope, now I want you to lead me to your room to show those walls some action.” She stood up and grabbed my hand.

---------------

Y/N's POV

With Lando’s fingers intertwined with mine, he leads the way up a black-and-white staircase with glass sides. Automated lights brighten the hallway, revealing a few guest rooms that appear unoccupied, along with a space that seems designed for gaming and recording, illuminated by vibrant LED lights. Towards the end of the hall, a door is slightly ajar.

“So, care to stay the night?” Lando glances back at me.

“Maybe another time. I just need to check on you and head home before the girls think I’ve been kidnapped or worse,” I say, winking at him with a cheeky smile.

A grin spreads across his face, sending butterflies in my stomach into a frenzy. In less than a second, Lando sweeps me up by my hips and tosses me over his shoulder like a bag of rice.

Part of me is too confused to register what’s happening, while another part can’t help but let out a constant giggle, wondering, What the heck are you doing?

Do I like this? Is this what it means to be manhandled?

His arm wraps around my waist to stabilize me as I struggle to gather my thoughts. Suddenly, I feel a sharp sting on my cheek, followed by a playful smack on my bare ass that sends my arousal soaring to a whole new level.

“You're moving way too slowly,” Lando says, trying to justify his actions. “And the spank was for teasing me so much tonight.”

Before I could respond with a playful act of revenge, his free hand began to explore my wet core. Each delicate touch on my clit made my back arch, and my fingers dug into his muscular back, leaving red lines as reminders of the moment.

“And that… is for being so damn irresistible” Lando’s voice low and soft as he places a soft kiss on my thigh, sending a shiver through my body from the tingling sensation.

I had expected him to hurry into the room, but with his touch igniting my skin, a moan escaped me, stretching the moment into what felt like an eternity.

Once we reached his room, he wasted no time, tossing me onto his bed. Lying there, facing him as he stood at the edge, all I could think about was how much I wanted him to keep his promise.

“So, are you enjoying the view this time around?” he asked, a smirk growing on his lips as he shifted his muscular arms to wrap around my thighs, pulling me closer.

“What can I say? I love a Magic Mike preview,” I replied, a giggle escaping my lips mid-movement.

“Oh, I think you paid for the full show. No?” His grin turned mischievous.

If I could read his mind, I’d find only unholy thoughts of what this man intended to do to me, and I was more than willing to oblige.

His lips danced with butterfly kisses across my stomach, moving up to my breasts, while his fingers explored every inch of my body, sending electric shocks that would make f(x) nostalgic, and made me beg for more.

His lips found my nipple, swirling it with his tongue while he massaged my other breast with his hand.

“Fuck, I’ve dreamed of this exact scenario,” Lando murmured, his voice melting into my chest.

“Really? Tell me about it,” I replied, tangling my fingers in his hair and gripping ever so slightly.

“That first night… when I saw you in the mirror,” he said, his voice husky and low between kisses and licks.

His words sent shivers down my spine, igniting a thrill that made the wetness between my legs even more intense.

“I was sitting on the bed, watching you, fucking yourself. Just imagine how good your moans would sound if your hand wasn’t covering your mouth.” His words drip with lust as hickeys and bruises form on my sensitive skin.

“Did you just watch me, or did you do something?” I needed to know the answer, aware that either response would make me crave him inside me instantly.

“I wanted to pretend I hadn’t seen anything, but I couldn’t. All I could think about was how badly I wanted you on my cock. I started touching my cock, watching you get that dildo inside you and out.” he continued.

“Fuck, I need more, fuck me Lan, I need you” My voice was laced with desperation as I tugged a little harder on his hair.

“Are we already begging?” A smirk grew on his lips as he positioned himself at my entrance, thrusting into my pussy, which wrapped tightly around his cock.

His movements made my back arch, and I gripped the sheets so hard they felt like they might rip, aching for every inch of him to feel my desire.

As he thrust into me with rough, needy motions, he pressed his palm against my lower stomach and began rubbing my clit with his thumb, driving me closer to the edge. The static energy coursing through my body was intense as I struggled to hold back my climax.

“That’s it, princess,” he murmured, his voice intoxicating like whiskey. “You’re so close; I can feel your pussy tightening around me.”

My body was unable to respond as I felt his hand leave my clit, moving up to wrap around my jaw, forcing my mouth open with his cum-covered thumb.

“Look at me, Y/N.” His breath burned on my skin as he placed a hickey on my neck, marking his territory. “I want to see you in the eyes when you’re cumming all over my cock, like a good little slut.”

His words brought me to the brink, and I struggled to meet his gaze, locking my eyes onto his. Lando’s thrusts softened as I rode the waves of my orgasm, shaking and gripping the sheets for dear life, moaning his name so loudly that I could see his grin widening in response.

After a few more thrusts, Lando leaned onto the bed, hovering over me. I felt his warmth as he released himself inside me, each pulse sending shockwaves through my body. To my surprise, he didn’t pull away; instead, he let our essence drip and overflow around him, igniting a deeper desire within me.

As our bodies began to untangle, Lando resumed his rhythm, sending my already sensitive body into a state of overwhelming pleasure. “Lando, what—” My words faltered, lost in the sensations coursing through me.

“Sluts receive rewards for being good girls, no?” Lando’s mischievous grin was unmistakable, his eyes sparkling with playful dominance. 

My hand grasped his arm as his body hovered over mine. I placed tender kisses along his veins, feeling the warmth pulse beneath my lips. With each thrust, he moved faster and deeper, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me, making me see stars.

“Fuck, baby, plea—” I was caught in a whirlwind of desire, unsure if I was begging him to continue or pleading for him to stop, and the latter felt impossible. 

Lando's hand roamed down my body, intensifying the already overwhelming sensation into an agonizing pressure. 

As soon as his fingers found their way to my sensitive clit, my body twitched involuntarily. 

Just then, a slightly muffled voice crept in from the window, but my mind struggled to grasp its meaning. 

The overstimulation faded as I realized that Lando had stopped, standing still and listening to the voices outside. Panic set in when I recognized Liana and Aaliyah; and they were looking for me.

“She didn’t say she was going anywhere, did she?” Aaliyah’s voice grew thick with worry.

My eyes widened at the realization that they were most definitely freaking out, and my phone was downstairs, blaring at full volume. If I could hear their voices all the way from here, they would surely recognize the distinct ringtone, muffled yet unmistakable, signaling that I was at the house next door. 

began to frantically pull myself off the bed, ready to rush downstairs, slip on my dress, and come up with a convincing lie about why I was wearing it and where my laptop had gone. Just then, Lando’s hand grabbed my arm, pulling me close into a bareback hug.

“Princess, I know you need to leave, but the dress will be hard to explain,” he murmured, his voice soft against my skin.

“Then what do you suggest I do, go naked?” A chuckle escaped my lips, the absurdity of the situation hitting me.

“Even though I’d love to see you walking naked in the street, dripping with my cum, I wouldn’t want to pluck the eyes out of every man who dares to look at you.” His arms tightened around me as he placed a passionate kiss on my neck.

“Come with me. Let’s get you something to wear.” Lando began leading the way into his walk-in closet.

As he rummaged through his drawers, he pulled out an oversized black hoodie emblazoned with his company’s logo, “Quadrant,” in graffiti-style neon colors. I could only guess it was either a limited edition or from an upcoming collection.

He handed me the hoodie, and I eagerly awaited the moment he would offer me a pair of pants or something similar, giving him an inquiring look.

“I think this hoodie should be long enough for you to consider it a dress,” a slight smirk broke across his face.

“Absolutely not! It won’t even cover my ass fully; I need pants… or at least shorts.” I slipped the hoodie over my body and glanced at myself in the mirror, assessing how much coverage I would actually get.

I turned to him, the fabric hanging loosely around my frame, barely grazing my thighs. “See? This is not going to work,” I said, trying to suppress a smile at the absurdity of the situation.

Lando stepped closer, his gaze lingering on me with undeniable heat. “Actually, I think it looks incredible on you. You won’t need joggers; that hoodie is doing all the work.”

“But my ass is going to show! I can’t just walk out li—” My brain raced with anxiety over every aspect of our current situation.

“Come on, princess,” he urged, his voice low and soothing. “Just put it on. If it’s actually too short, I’ll give you some pants or even my briefs to wear.” He gave me a reassuring look, his confidence radiating and hoping to calm my nerves.

His words sent a thrill through me, and I found myself wavering, caught between embarrassment and the excitement of his bold suggestion.

After a few minutes of deliberation, I finally decided to wear one of Lando’s boxer briefs under the hoodie. I walked to the front entrance where the intimate part of our night had begun, collecting my panties and dress from the floor.

“Leave these here; I’ll drop them off another day so it doesn’t look suspicious,” Lando said, his voice low and husky as he leaned in, placing soft butterfly kisses along my neck.

“I have to go talk to the girls,” I murmured, my voice betraying a hint of anxiety.

Yet all I truly wanted was to skip ahead to the moment when the girls knew everything, and I could spend the night wrapped in his arms, feeling safe and desired.

I tried to take long, steady breaths as I approached the front door of our house. When I attempted to creak the door open, I found it locked, leaving me with no choice but to face the girls right here and now.

After a few seconds of gathering my courage, I rang the doorbell. I could hear Aaliyah’s frantic voice rushing to the door. “I’ll get it! That might be her!”

As soon as she opened the door and let me in, her eyes scanned my disheveled appearance and the messy state of my hair.

“Where were you? We were so worried! Liana was just about to call the police to file a missing persons report.”

I let out a slight chuckle, trying to sound as natural as possible. “Come on, I just went for a little walk and didn’t want to disturb your movie.”

Aaliyah’s expression said it all; she didn’t believe me, and rightfully so. I was just hoping she wouldn’t see through my facade in this moment.

Just as I thought I might escape Aaliyah's scrutiny, Liana appeared from the living room, her eyebrows raised in curiosity. “What’s going on? Why do you look like you just ran a marathon?”

Aaliyah crossed her arms, a knowing smile creeping onto her face. “Yeah, Liana. I was just asking her where she’s been. I think she snuck out to see someone.”

My heart raced, and I quickly shook my head. “Wha—no way! I just went for a walk to clear my head. Seriously, you guys are overreacting. I just needed a break from the project.”

Liana stepped closer, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Come on, Y/N. You can tell us if you were with someone. We won’t judge… for the most part.”

Heat crept up my cheeks. “I promise, it was nothing like that! I just needed some fresh air,” I insisted, trying to sound convincing.

Liana’s gaze closed in on me, knowing she had solid evidence regarding my movie-ditching offense. “Yeah? Then where’s the laptop, huh?”

After a slight moment of hesitation, I managed to speak, my voice an octave higher than usual. “Well, it’s in my room. I came in during the movie and then left again. I wasn’t going to take it with me on the walk.”

Aaliyah leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You sure it wasn’t a special someone? Because you’re acting a little too suspicious.”

“Absolutely not! I swear, I’m just tired and wanted to be alone for a bit,” I replied, forcing a laugh to lighten the mood. But inside, I was a bundle of nerves, praying they wouldn’t see through my lies.

Liana exchanged a glance with Aaliyah, both of them clearly unconvinced. “Alright, but if we find out you’re hiding something, we’re going to need all the juicy details,” Liana teased, her smile widening.

I took a deep breath, silently relieved that they hadn’t pressed further. “Fine, but there’s nothing to find. Can we just drop it?”

Liana crossed her arms, still eyeing me with playful suspicion. “You know we’re not going to let this go that easily, right? You can’t just waltz in here looking all flustered and fucked out of your mind and expect us to believe you were just out for a stroll.”

Aaliyah chimed in, her expression teasing yet serious. “Yeah, we’re your friends! It’s our job to investigate. So… Do you have anything to say, young lady?”

I let out a chuckle. “I appreciate the investigation, but it’s not necessary. I’ll definitely report to the CIA and FBI that you two have done a magnificent job with your investigative procedures.” 

I managed to sneak away to my room once they got engrossed in another movie.

[xx-rabidpossum-xx]

Bruises from the Boar

Author's note: I had this idea and posted to a discord chat, turns out they wish for more. Hope ya like it<:}

Tag list: @thisuserislilsilly @incrediblethirst @druidwolf21 (idk who else sorry)

TW: mentions of NSFW, bruises, thoughts of death, angst/comfort

He was rough last night.

The thought runs through your mind as you wash yourself. The warm water eases your aching muscles, but were like a dull stinging pain on your bruises. The had blossomed while you were asleep, an array of red, blue, green and even purple litter all across your body. Indents of bite marks with scattered bruises along your shoulders and collarbone, as well as trailing down your body to your thighs.

Rubbing the warm wet cloth over your shoulders, hissing slightly from the pain, you clean yourself. Angron had already left before you had woken up. The feeling of his warmth being absent from your side was not something you expected to wake up from. He had usually left before you had woken up, he claimed once that it was easier so you wouldn't tempt him back to the embrace of slumber once more. Another time he claimed that his sons were calling to him and he needed to answer. Now it was, "I need to see what my sons are doing."

Wringing out the cloth, you add more soap to it and rub it together to get a frothy consistency. This time you started to work on your chest. He had nipped and sucked all over your body, but your chest had dealt the brunt of the damage. There were more green bruises around your breasts, showing that those were the oldest by far compared to the rest on your sore body. He didn't hold back, when he had ripped the dress off of you, he attacked your breasts first while ripping off your undergarments. You knew to not wear a bra, but when he saw it. It was like a boar finding a tuffle, excited and ravenous.

Rinsing off the excess soap, you stand up slowly. Looking down, the blotches of purple and blue that accosted your thighs. The were in the shape of handprints, slight scratches at the edge of each finger. He is usually rough, this isn't any different.

Stepping out of the vast tub, you grab a soft dry towel and begin to wipe the water still clinging to you. Patting the towel gingerly over the still freshly red and pink bruising. The memory of the night before rush through you as you pat down on a particular bruise, on your lower stomach.

Your lower body was limp, being held up only by Angron and his strength. His face was buried between your legs, lapping at your juices, occasionally biting at your inner thigh. Yelping in surprise, you try to lift your head to meet his gaze, only to feel him stop. A whine escapes your throat, "A—Angron please." You can make out from your blurry vision that his lifts his head. A heavy pressure is pushed on your stomach making you whimper. Tears started to stream down your cheeks again, this being the third time he has overstimulated you.

A sudden pain errupts from your lower stomach, just above your womb. A moan is ripped from you as he increases the bite force.

You were panting heavily. It was too much, he could tear you apart, spill your guts, chew through your stomach. The feeling of his teeth ripping apart your stomach to get to your uterus left you both aroused and terrified.

When the pressure was released, the tears kept rolling down your cheeks. A small wetness replaces where his fangs were. Lifting your head up the best you can, you see him licking the bite mark, kissing it every so often.

Shaking your head, you toss the towel away and make your way back to the bedroom. Carefully navigating so you don't overexert your legs. Opening the dresser, you choose the outfit that had a translucent feel. Everyone has seen me with bruises before, this isn't any different.

Walking out of your's and Angron's shared bedroom, you made your way to the kitchen. Passing by multiple serfs and marines alike, they don't look twice when they see Angron's handiwork across your neck and shoulders.

Whispers flew past you, some more louder than the others. "I'm surprised she's able to walk.", "Do you think she's broken yet?"

Down the corridors and hallways, you hear more hushed whispers. "He's getting desperate, next thing you'll see is a bite on her jugular."

More and more whispers, they started to not even hide their voices.

"Lord Angron will kill her eventually, she can't even walk without a limp most days."

It was true, looking down at your legs, you were limping. You had pushed yourself too much and now your legs were in pain, not even registering that they were in pain until someone pointed it out.

He's getting tired of you, that's why he was so rough.

Stepping into the kitchen, you request a nice breakfast, which was prepared with expertise and speed. Sitting down at the large table within a vast dining room, a few marines stand by the doorway.

Once your breakfast was served to you, the whispers started again, except this time you can pinpoint where they came from.

"When do you suspect Lord Angron's consort will be discarded?" "Not for a while now, he hasn't killed her…yet."

That made you almost stop chewing your food, you couldn't let them know you were listening. So you chewed your breakfast faster, faster you eat the faster you can leave. They have seen bruises on me, this isn't any different.

The whole day of walking, talking and attending various tasks, the whispers stayed hushed and you still listened. Anytime you had interacted with Angron, he simply responded with a grunt or a nod. He didn't look you in the eye, which made you slightly worried.

"Poor girl, I fear we will find her corpse one day.", "He must be getting bored of her soon. We'll have to find a replacement if this keeps up."

Kharn had noticed and stayed close to you when you were in the same vicinity as Angron, almost like he was making sure nothing would go wrong. You liked Kharn, he had warned you what life would be like, and saw you as a stronger person for facing those challenges head on. If you were any wiser, you would think Kharn was worried that Angron's consort wished for her to stay. Like a farrow watching over their sow.

But when Angron and Kharn had left you alone, the whispers started again.

That danmed phrase everyone does and doesn't say, "He's getting tired or bored of her." A small thought creeps from the back of your mind, maybe they're right. The nails might bite when you are in bed and that will be that. He'll bite you one last time and you'll just be another thing Angron breaks-

You slap yourself in the comfort of your own room. Sitting on the enourmous bed, with a thin dress on and covering your bruises with a healing balm, you think, He is different. He had cared for you and not once has he ever subjected you to the horrors of the butcher's nails. He always made an effort to steer clear of you when they started to bite. Everything he does is in love of you. He cares and cherishes you, you are more than a simple toy.

The door opens and your head whips around to see who was entering. It was Angron. You smile as you rub the balm into your upper thigh. "Hello my love", you say warmly. He closes the door and stands still. Staring at you. If Angron was anything like a boar, this would be it. Standing still, eye forward, stamping his hooves to the ground as a form of greeting, almost like he is ready to charge.

He slowly walks to you as you are sitting on the edge of the bed and kneels in front of you. Tilting your head to the side slightly, you set down the healing balm onto the side table. "Is something wrong, my love?"

Angron didn't say anything, but you followed his eyes. They were scanning the bruises. Heat rises to your cheeks and you attempt to move the blankets to your chest. "Oh, I'm just tending to these. They were getting sore and I didn't want these to get too bad. Besides, this isn't any different—"

"I hurt you."

You stopped in your tracks as you look at Angron. His hands were now on your thighs, gently caressing the bruises he had made the night before. A shiver runs up your spine from the contact. His hands moves up your dress gingerly, he wasn't in the mood for sex, this was different.

His hands moves your legs to one side as his face went to your dress-covered-stomach, and kisses it. Another shiver, his other hand moves and rests on your hip. He continued to kiss your stomach and moves down to your thighs. A small part of you was waiting for him to start devouring you, but it never came. His kisses trail upwards and to your chest. Your breathing was labored and your cheeks were flushed. Angron looks at your reddened face, moves one of his hand to it and holds your blushing cheek.

"I'm sorry." That seem to sanp something in you. The weight of the whole day crashes into you at once, letting a stream of tears run wild. Through your blurry vision, you can see Angron wear a faint look of worry. You felt his arms surround you and hold you close to his chest, the tears slowly streaming onto his clothing.

Through your haze of intense emotions, you could feel Angron kissing your head. He picks you up with ease and sets you more onto the shared bed. You both lay on your sides while face each other.

Angron still held you close, kissing your face and shoulder while apologizing. Every comment that was whispered throughout the day melted away from your mind as your beloved Primarch kissed each bruise he had given you. It was different, but in a good way.

[islesnucks]

𝓿𝓸𝓲𝓬𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓲𝓵 - Mathew Barzal x Reader

Summary: what started as an accidentall voicemial to your ex boyfriend ended up becoming routine and maybe even more TW: none that i can think of

Word count: 3.9k A/N: completely made up game schedule btw

Masterlist Add yoruself to the taglist if you wanna be notified when i post the fic!

-

“Hey, it’s Mat.” His voice echoed through the phone, so familiar yet strangely distant now. You’d heard him speak in interviews, but this was different. He was addressing you, or at least the voicemail version of you. “I can’t answer right now, so you know what to do.”

You didn’t know what to do. Calling your ex-boyfriend, the one you had broken up with months ago, wasn’t something you had exactly planned. Yet, when the acceptance email for the program you had worked tirelessly for arrived, the one he had witnessed you pour your heart into, he was the person you wanted to share it with. So that’s what you were doing, trying no to overthink it before nerves got the best of you.

“Mat, hi. This is so random—H-how are you?” Thank God he didn’t answer, you were a stuttering mess leaving a voicemail imagine if it had been him on the other end instead. “I got in! Into the program I mean. I don’t know why, but I wanted to tell you. You helped me so much before—” you cut yourself again. It didn’t feel right to mention the break up like that, but what could you say? Before I broke up with you? Before I stumbled out of your apartment leaving you behind without an explanation?

“Fuck it. I can’t do this.” You pulled your phone away from your ear and touched the red dot.

That’s it. He didn’t need to know, he probably wouldn’t even care. Who would want their ex to call to tell them they were doing great? That maybe after all the breakup was worth it because they had gotten into the program they had neglected their relationship for? Too long, right?

A second later, realization struck like lightning – you had ended the call before deleting the voicemail. It had been sent.

“Oh no, no, no!” you exclaimed, eyes widening in horror. There was no turning back. Mat would undoubtedly hear you stumbling over your words. Why couldn’t you have just left well enough alone? The last thing he needed was you barging back into his life with a pathetic voicemail about something he likely moved on from. ‘He probably already despises me after how everything unfolded, and now this’ you thought.

You were wrong, because no longer than 5 minutes after everything had gone down your phone was buzzing in your hand, Mat’s contact bright in the center as he now waited for you to pick up for a change.

“Mat.” you picked up.

“Hey. You called me?” He sounded confused, for very obvious reasons. Nevertheless it was nice to hear his voice now directed at you.

“Yeah, right. I left you a voicemail.” You rolled your eyes. At least you sounded less nervous than earlier on the voicemail, but it was not less embarrassing.

Mat’s voice came through, cool and collected. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t check. I just saw the missed call and, you know.”

“Sure, sure.” you replied, trying to sound half as calm as he seemed to be with the whole situation.

“Do you want me to hear it or …” his offer hovered in the air.

“No! I mean, I can tell you.” You cringed at the thought of him hearing your rambling voicemail. “So, I called because I just got the mail. I got into the program!”

“Shut up! That’s great! Congratulations!” Mat’s excitement burst through the line. Your heart melted a little. After everything that had happened he sounded genuinely happy for you.

“Thank you, Maty.”

Mat’s tone softened. “You deserve it, after all the hard work you put into it. I knew you’d get it.”

You chuckled, the tension easing. “I know, I know. You told me like a million times. I was just insecure.”

For a second you let yourself imagine this was under other circumstances. You were still together and he was calling you right after practice or from another city in one of his roadies. He’d come back home eventually and hug you so tight you wouldn’t be able to breath, probably lift you up and spin you around a little. You wouldn’t be able to stop laughing and-

“I know …” Mat’s response brought you back to reality. The reality in which he wouldn’t knock on your door with his arms wide open.

His tone carried an easy understanding. He definitely knew about your insecurities. They played a huge role on why your relationship was the way it was right now: nonexistent.

“So that’s what the voicemail said?” He broke the silence.

“Yeah, basically. But you know, all giddy and stuff. Really embarrassing.”

Mat’s laughter grew louder, and you could practically see him shaking his head. “Oh, really? Well, now I have to hear it.”

“No, no, no.” you protested, your embarrassment deepening. “Seriously, don’t Barzal. I know where you live.”

But Mat insisted, his curiosity piqued. “Come on! Embrace the cringe. It can’t be that bad.”

He ended the call before you could object anymore, only to call you back a minute later. Mat’s laughter erupted again as soon as you picked up, and you couldn’t help but join in, the shared humor dissipating the lingering awkwardness. If you closed your eyes you could almost picture him with that scrunched up nose as he laughed.

“The ‘fuck it, i can’t do this’ was the best part by far.”

-

The familiar buzz of the MSG postgame show filled the cozy confines of your living room as Mat’s name flashed brightly on your phone, catching you off guard. Shannon and Hickey were in full praise mode, replaying Mat’s epic goal on loop, and there he was, the main attraction, waiting on the other end of the line for you to pick up.

You fumbled for your phone, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips as you swiped to answer. “Hey, I didn’t expect your call.” you remarked, the commentator’s voices still ringing in your ears.

“Bad timing?” Mat’s voice crackled through the phone, a hint of breathlessness underscoring his words – probably still riding the adrenaline high from the ice.

“No, no. It’s just that a second ago you were on my screen falling all over the ice.” you teased, imagining his less-than-graceful moments on the rink.

“I don’t fall that much!” he argued, sounding mildly offended.

“You do, but you also score, so it’s forgiven. Congrats on your almost hatty, by the way.” You chuckled, knowing how much he loathed falling a goal short. Always so hard on himself. 

Mat scoffed, clearly annoyed at missing the mark. “So, you watched tonight?”

“Obviously, I watch every game I can catch.” you replied, the excitement of the game still coursing through your veins. The thrill of watching Mat succeed, even from a distance, even after all that happened, was undeniable.

“You should come, you know. I’m sure the girls would love to see you.” Mat suggested, his voice tinged with a hint of longing.

“I don’t know, Mat. It’s not my place anymore.” you hesitated, letting the uncertainty hang in the air. You had to change the subject before your mind started spiraling.  “Anyway, why did you call?”

“Oh, right. I listened to your voicemail again!”

“So you called to tell me you haven’t actually deleted it like you promised?”

“I heard it right before the game and got 2 goals and 2 assists. I think it’ll become my new pregame ritual, honestly.” Mat admitted, his voice softer now, laced with a hint of nostalgia. Why had he chosen to hear it? That’s something he would save for himself for now. The shared memories of your past flitted between you, unspoken but palpable.

“Really? Want me to send embarrassing voicemails before every game?”

“I’d love it. Yes, please.” Mat replied with a laugh, the warmth of his laughter washing over you like a comforting embrace. The playful banter held a certain intimacy, a bridge between past flames and the uncharted territory of what lay ahead.

The banter flowed seamlessly, a blend of shared history and the current moment. The familiarity was comforting, but the unspoken complexities of your past lingered in the air, a delicate tension.

-

NYI vs. TBL - November 5th

“Hey, Barzy. I don’t know if you were joking or not but here’s your pregame embarrassing voicemail as solicited. You weren’t serious, right? Well fuck it, enjoy it or ignore me whatever.”

NYI vs. CGY - November 7th

“Just walked past that coffee shop where we had our third or fourth date I think. Remember how you choked over your latte when I lied and said I loved the Rangers?”

NYI vs. SEA - November 9th

“Hey, you won’t believe who I just saw. That guy that lives in the building across the street, the one that has your face tattooed on his left arm. He asked about you, told me to wish you good luck. So good luck from him … and from me. Good luck tonight.”

NYI vs. VAN - November 11th

“Hi! Your sister told me your family is going tonight, so send them a kiss from me, ok? … I-I keep in touch with her, I don’t know if you knew that or like maybe I should’ve told you? Are you ok with that? I’m sorry I just assumed you would be. Anyway, good luck! Say hi from me! Or don’t if you don’t want to-”

NYI vs. NYR - November 16th

“Dude. Rangers tonight. Don’t mess it up. May have bet on you guys with a guy from work, I don’t wanna have to pay for his lunch tomorrow. Please. Good luck, 13.”

NYI vs. PIT - November 18th

“Shit, shit, shit. Hope you can hear this before the game. I’m still getting used to the program’s schedule and all of that, I’m kind of a mess right now. Anyway, good luck!”

NYI vs. DET - November 20th

“Maty, hi! I know this is kind of dumb because I saw you like 10 minutes ago and I’m in the building but still thought I should leave the voicemail just in case. (Come on!) Ok I have to go, Sydney has a tone of gossip to catch me up on. Good luck!”

NYI vs. DAL - November 23th

“Hello Mr Barzal, I won’t be able to watch tonight, but still good luck! Even if you don’t win, I hope you score a goal, make an assist. That 8 game point streak you have going on is insane. I think I’ll start charging you for this if they are working so well.Good luck Barzy!”

NYI vs. STL - November 26th

“Hey! First of all, good luck! Second, I left my scarf at the Lee’s last night. It’s red, I was wearing it when you picked me up. Grace said Anders would give it to you tonight. Maybe we can meet for coffee tomorrow so you can give it back? Anyway, good luck!”

NYI vs. CHI - November 28th

“13, hello! I don’t have anything funny to tell you today so just good luck! Love you- shit, sorry. Habit I guess. Bye.”

NYI vs. NYR - November 30th

“You have zero new voicemails. To record a new personal greeting press one-”

-

You tried everything to get your mind off it, but it wasn’t working. The cup of tea was now cold in your hand and you couldn’t even pretend to care what was going on in the movie you had playing on your tv. The game had ended an hour ago but it was on replay in your mind.

It was silly to think it was your fault. You couldn’t influence the score of the match, the 5-1 loss against the Rangers wasn’t on you. However the outcome would’ve been different if their starplayer hadn’t been taking stupid penalties, losing the puck, causing turnovers. That could be on you partially.

The bell ringing caught you by surprise, almost dropping the cold tea. You got up to answer, even though you had a feeling you knew who was waiting by your building’s door.

“Hello?”

“It’s me.” The familiar voice needed no introduction.

“Mat? What are you doing here?” 

“Buzz me in.” he requests, and you could practically hear the determination in his tone. With a resigned sigh, you pressed the buzzer, knowing full well he wouldn’t leave until he got what he came for.

A few moments later, a knock sounded at the door, and you found yourself face to face with him. Determination was bright in his eyes, your heart started racing.

“What’s going on?” He rolled his eyes, clearly not impressed by your attempt at pretending not to know why he’s there.

“You didn’t leave a voicemail.” Mat strided in without waiting for an invitation, and the unspoken tension was palpable.

“Right, that. I guess I forgot. Sorry.” you lied, trying to sound convincing but knowing there’s no use, he’d know. You closed the door behind him almost instinctively, as if shutting out the forthcoming emotional storm that’s about to break in your apartment.

“You’ve been sending me a voicemail before every single game for the past month.” he remarked, his gaze keenly picking up on your avoidance. Frustration started to take over. He already had been in this position before, begging you for explanations and all you did was look away. “Please, don’t shut me out. Not again.”

“I got confused, okay? Why are we doing this? I’m your ex-girlfriend, I broke up with you, Mat. And now I’m going to your games and sending you voicemails every game? What even is this?”

At some point you started walking all over the living room, the distress was clear. Mat was better at hiding it, he stood still by the door like he had been since he walked in, but you could see his hands fidgeting. Neither of you had a clear head to take on what was about to come, chaos was inevitable.

“I don’t know, but I thought you liked this. I thought it was like an inside joke, our own thing.”

“It was that. But you’re not supposed to have that with your ex.” you said, trying to emphasize the last word for him, as if a reminder of your status would help the situation in any way. 

“We’re friends?” He furrowed his brows, and, had it not been for the situation you were in, you would’ve laughed at the way even he sounded so unsure of what he was saying.

“Mat, come on. It’s confusing, I know I was getting confused. It started with the voicemails, which was already something, but then we’re talking every day, I’m going to your games again and team’s gatherings, we’re hanging out again. I said ‘I love you’ on my last one!” You finally looked at him, baring it all. There was only one solution in your mind and it had to be taken no matter the pain it would undoubtedly cost you. “I think it’s better if we stop.”

There was a moment of silence, he looked at you as if trying to read through the wall you were hiding behind. Trying to decipher if it was you speaking or your insecurities had taken over again. Most importantly, trying to figure out if this time he had what it took to get to you before he lost you.

“I don’t want it to stop.” he said, determination clear in his voice. In a second he closed the gap between you. The proximity caught you off guard, you couldn’t remember the last time you were this close. “Tell me you don’t feel anything.” It sounded almost like a beg, but he didn’t care.

“We broke up.” you insisted, trying to sound all resolute.

“You broke up with me.” he corrected you, his gaze holding steady, slicing through your defenses.

“We weren’t working, Mat! We could barely see each other, and when we did, we were too tired or stressed. We fought a lot. We broke up.” It sounded almost childish the way you stubbornly persisted on it, like you needed to reassure yourself more than him how things had played out last time.

“Couples fight sometimes; it’s normal. I was stressed about the playoffs, and you were stressed about getting into the program. It was a bad moment, yes, but that’s over.”

“Other problems are gonna come up.”

“We can face them together, we fight and make up. That’s it, that’s how couples work.”

You paused for a second, it made no sense to keep on repeating yourself. It seemed like he had a solution for every obstacle you presented. He had come here for answers, it was time to give them to him even if you were answering older already forgotten questions.

“I was scared, Mat. I was scared and insecure, and it felt like I was ruining it all.” Tears start rolling down your face and there’s nothing he wants more than to hug you, keep you close to his chest, push the pain away; but he knows he shouldn’t. You’re finally letting down your guard, telling him what he’s been dying to hear for months; he has to give you space to be vulnerable. “I thought it was better to break things up before they got really nasty.” your voice wobbled.

“I get it, I really do. But you could’ve told me and I should’ve been more present, not left you alone to deal with our problems. We could’ve tried to make it work. ” He looked deep into your eyes, his own reflecting a mix of understanding and unwavering love. “I know I loved you more than enough to work through it.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry about how I ended things, and I’m sorry about the voicemail and all the mess I’ve caused.” You tried to walk away from him, the proximity being too much, but he caught your arm making you face him once again.

Tears started streaming down his face as you tried to grapple with the weight of your own decisions. He looked you in the eyes, the determination from earlier is still there, even behind the tears those glossy eyes told you he wasn’t gonna leave in silence like last time. This time he had to leave it all out, even if he ended up hurt in the process.

“When you first called me I was too nervous to answer so I let it go to voicemail. I think even then I knew it wasn’t over for me, I knew hearing your voice would bring it all back.” You winced, acutely aware of the emotional turmoil you’ve caused. What you didn’t know was he wasn’t worried about pain coming back; what worried him was all the love he had for you and had pushed away after the break up coming back and once again not having where to put it.

“But then I wanted to hear you, the real you, not the voicemail, so I called you. I cannot tell you how happy it made me to hear you, like my heart was beating again after months of numbness. And you were telling me this great news, when you got that acceptance letter you wanted to tell me.” he continued, and you released a heavy breath, a half-smile forming on your face. He was right, the first person you wanted to share your triumph with was him, you hadn’t thought much about it back then but no it was so clear.

“I replayed your voicemail before the game that first time because I wanted to hear your voice. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until I heard you over the phone earlier that day, and all I wanted was to hear you again talking to me.” he confessed, a mixture of vulnerability and longing in his words. “At first I thought maybe I was making it up, you know? Maybe it was just my unresolved feelings, maybe there was nothing going on. But you called me first and then you kept on sending the voicemails. Things were going back to the way they were before. It felt like I was me again, like we were us again.”

Mat smiled thinking how everyone could notice; his friends, his teammates, his family, everyone could see the old Mat was back. He told them off, too afraid to consider you were all he was missing because he knew he didn’t have you back, not yet.

His hand gently cupped your face, sending a shiver down your spine. Closing your eyes, you leaned into his touch. You missed it, there was no denying it anymore. You missed it all too much—his touch, his voice, his energy, his very presence. Him.

“You said ‘I love you’ on the last voicemail. I replayed it like 20 times at least, just to hear those three words. From you, to me.” The weight of those three words hung in the air between the two of you after so long, it was electrifying. Your heart raced; he was about to say it, and you yearned to hear it.

“I love you.” he declared, and there was no ambiguity this time. It wasn’t a recall of your words; this time, it was his confession to you.

“Maty…” was all you managed to say; his nickname laden with tenderness and echoes of old fears that still lingered.

“I want this. I want you even if I can only see you two times a week and even if half that time you are studying or working or stressing over both. I want to be there with you. I want to fight and make up. I want all of it, the messy and ugly included.”

“I love you.” you finally whispered.

It was over. He loved you, you loved him, and there was nothing left to say.

In that breath-holding moment, he leaned down, his lips finally touching yours. It’s not just a kiss; it’s a wild ride through forgiveness, longing, and the silent agreement to dive back into the messy and the beautiful, hand in hand. He was smiling into the kiss, so were you. The taste of salt from their tears lingered, mingling with the sweetness of the moment. The kiss spoke of second chances and the magic of beginnings, a promise to rewrite the story that had once unraveled.

You pulled away, breathless and teary-eyed, yet a radiant joy painted across your faces. You laughed, a melody of relief and newfound hope. One of his hands was on your back as the other traveled from your face to the back of your head, pulling you against his chest. Your arms hugged his torso tight.

“I love you.” he mumbled against your head before placing a kiss on top.

-

NYI vs. MTL - December 1st

“Hey! Good luck tonight babe-”

“I don’t think it counts if I’m literally next to you when you record it.”

“Shush. Who’s the voicemail expert here? Me. Anyway, as I was saying before you interrupted me: good luck tonight, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

-

soooooo it’s here! hope you like it! like and reblogs are always appreciated!

it felt so good to write again and to share it too, hope i have more time this year to write more stuff

taglist:

@glassdanse @2manytabsopen @barbienoturbby @sweetlittlegingy @mcsteamylove98 @ttylfedora @chieflawyerpastatoad @iwantahockeyhimbo @fallinallincurls @jordiee95 @heatherawoowoo @barzysreputation @farabeezers @4ambagelbites @matwith1t @audryaho @maximoff-xmen @astrydis @joelsfarabees @bitchforbarzy @deloughrey @brias1201 @besthockeyfics @ya-pucking-nerd @hoiyheadharpies @mckenna4 @rosesvioletshardy @hockeyunits @siriusly-parker @ilyasorokinn @lam-ila @boqvistsbabe @theycallmecassie @ephemeral371 @hal3ynicol3 @angelblooddevil @besthockeyfics @beauvertime @picked-off-by-barzal @1316 @cherrygirl1229 @lunabean @random-readers-world @poufsouffle21 @barzysbaby @matbarzal13 @alwaysclassyeagle @wanbach23 @evaggreendaily

[jungwnies]

f1 grid | comforting them

୨ৎ : featuring : all drivers on the grid ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : comforting your driver boyfriend after they had a bad race </3

୨ৎ : genre : romance & fluff (angsty if you SQUINT) ୨ৎ : tws : some are suggestive ୨ৎ : word count : 3902

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : a monday post cus.. why tf NOT

ʚ・red bull

max verstappen

acts like everything is fine, but you can tell by how quiet he is.

you guide him past media without a word, shielding him physically and emotionally.

cuts everyone off with a clipped “it’s fine,” but lets you stay close.

doesn’t speak much until you’re alone—just sits beside you, jaw clenched.

eventually murmurs, “it was shit today,” without looking at you.

you just nod and take his hand, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

you order food, dim the lights, and make him lay down while you run your fingers through his hair.

he melts slowly, letting the tension fall out of his body.

“you’re like my therapist,” he mutters.

“you’re like my emotional tax return,” you shoot back, and he actually laughs.

yuki tsunoda

starts off convincing himself it’s fine. “it’s okay, just racing. it happens.”

tries to brush it off with humor, but his eyes are a little too glossy.

sits stiffly, arms crossed, forcing himself not to cry in front of anyone.

when you ask if he’s alright, he shakes his head and says, “i don’t wanna talk about it,” voice tight.

but as soon as you wrap your arms around him, he lets out a breath like he’s been holding it for hours.

“i tried so hard today,” he mumbles into your shoulder, and that’s when the tears come.

buries his face in your chest, completely silent except for the way his arms tighten around your waist.

you stroke his back and whisper, “i know. i saw. you did everything you could.”

he doesn’t let go for a long time, just holds you like he needs you to hold the world together.

later, sniffling into your hoodie, he mutters, “don’t tell anyone i cried. but don’t go anywhere either.”

ʚ・mercedes

george russell

“well, that was a masterclass in how not to have a race,” he says, throwing his gloves on the table like he’s commentating his own downfall.

acts unbothered, sipping his water like it’s champagne. “at least i didn’t crash into a wall. small victories.”

makes a passive-aggressive joke about his strategy call, then follows it with “but it’s fine. i love character development.”

when you ask how he really feels, he smirks. “emotionally bankrupt, but thanks for checking.”

keeps pretending he’s over it, but you catch him zoning out mid-shower, forehead against the tile, just breathing.

when you hand him a towel and a soft “you don’t have to keep it together right now,” he just shrugs. “if i let go, i might not get back up.”

you sit with him on the couch, and he rests his head on your lap, finally letting you card your fingers through his hair.

“you make this day slightly less shit,” he mutters, then adds with a cheeky grin, “wanna really take my mind off it?”

you raise a brow. “that subtle, huh?”

he just smirks, pulling you down for a kiss. “come on. don’t make me beg. i’ve had a really bad day.”

kimi antonelli

throws his helmet a little too hard, then immediately panics like "oh shit did i just break it," while storming into the motorhome.

tries to act cool but ends up rage-snacking on chips mid-rant. "why the f—why do i even try?! i’m literally doing everything and the car’s like, ‘no ❤️’"

paces back and forth while voice-cracking through sentences like, "no, it’s fine. it’s cool. it’s just… my whole career. no big deal."

you sit there trying not to laugh because he’s got one sock halfway off and crumbs on his shirt but is fully spiraling like it’s the end of the world.

“am i washed at 18?! is that even possible?”

you calmly hand him a juice box and say, “you’re not washed. you’re dramatic.”

he glares, sucks on the straw aggressively, then slumps down next to you with a loud sigh.

“i hate being a prodigy. too much pressure. should’ve been mediocre and mysterious.”

you rub his back and say, “you’re allowed to have a bad day, baby genius.”

he blinks up at you, lip jutted out. “if i win next weekend can we get matching crocs?”

you nod. he grins. “sick. emotional support footwear incoming.”

ʚ・ferrari

charles leclerc

comes home way too quiet. keys in the bowl, shoes off, straight to the bathroom without a word.

you find him staring at the sink, toothbrush in hand, not even brushing—just zoning out.

“i don’t know what i’m doing wrong,” he says, voice low. “i keep trying and i still mess it up.”

you hug him from behind and rest your chin on his shoulder. he doesn’t flinch, just leans into it with a sigh.

“maybe i’m not good enough anymore,” he mumbles. “maybe they’re right.”

you turn him around gently. “you are good enough. more than enough. stop speaking to yourself like that.”

he blinks fast like he’s trying not to cry, then rests his forehead against yours.

“i just… hate letting you down. even if you say you’re not disappointed.”

you guide him to bed, tug off his hoodie, pull the sheets over both of you. he curls into you instantly like a kid.

“you’re the only part of the day that feels good,” he whispers against your skin.

then, quietly, a little mischievously, “maybe we can end it with something else that feels good?”

you laugh into his hair. “if you’re asking me to kiss it better, just say that.”

“i am. in a poetic way.”

lewis hamilton

he doesn’t storm in. he’s not loud. he just walks through the door a little slower, like the weight of the day is still sitting on his shoulders.

takes his time taking off his shoes, hangs up his coat carefully—like staying in control might keep the emotions at bay.

sits on the edge of the couch with his hands clasped between his knees, eyes distant. “you ever give everything and still feel like it’s not enough?”

you sit beside him without saying a word, letting him talk when he’s ready.

“i don’t mind the criticism. i’ve been through worse. but sometimes it’s like… no one lets you just be human anymore.”

he looks at you with tired eyes, soft but heavy. “i’m not asking to win all the time. i just want to feel like i did something right.”

you lace your fingers with his and lean your head against his shoulder. “you do so much right. more than most ever could.”

he hums low in his chest, squeezes your hand. “you always know what to say.”

eventually pulls you into his lap, buries his face in the crook of your neck like he’s finally letting himself rest.

“just stay close tonight,” he whispers, kissing your shoulder. “you’re the one thing that still feels steady.”

“you’re the one thing that feels like peace.”

ʚ・mclaren

lando norris

kicks his shoes off a little too aggressively when he gets home. “don’t ask,” he mutters before you even say hi.

slumps on the couch, arms crossed, hoodie up, eyes on the ceiling. “today was great. crashed my hopes, ran over my self-esteem, 10/10.”

you offer to talk and he just grumbles, “nope. don’t wanna. gonna repress it. very healthy coping strategy.”

pretends he's fine, scrolls on his phone like he’s not one second away from crumbling. keeps sighing dramatically every five minutes for attention.

refuses to cuddle at first. “i’m mad at the world. leave me in my hoodie cave.” but then two seconds later: “okay but like… you can sit near me. just not touching. but like… close.”

eventually ends up curled into your side, face hidden in your neck. mumbles, “today sucked. i sucked. everything sucked.”

you stroke his hair and he softens immediately. “you don’t suck. you’re just tired. burnt out. you need rest, not punishment.”

“you’re being all soft and wise, it’s disgusting,” he grumbles—but his hand’s gripping your shirt like you might float away.

you kiss his temple. “still want me to leave you in your hoodie cave?”

he pulls the blanket over both of you and whispers, “shut up. you live here now.”

oscar piastri

walks into the room and doesn’t say much. just nods once, drops his bag, and disappears into the bathroom.

you hear the water running—ice cold. he always showers when he’s overwhelmed. said it helps him “reset.”

when he comes out, hair wet, hoodie half-zipped, eyes tired—he looks a little more like himself again. still quiet. still distant. but thawing.

sits next to you on the bed without saying anything, just slowly reaches for your hand and starts tracing circles on your palm.

“i didn’t know how to talk about it without getting angry,” he admits softly. “so i didn’t.”

you nod and lean your head on his shoulder. “you don’t need to explain everything right away. i’ll wait.”

he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “thanks for not pushing me. i just… hate not being enough.”

turns to you with red-tinted eyes. “it’s stupid. it’s just racing. but when it goes wrong, it feels like i’m failing you too.”

you hold his face and say, “you never have to earn being loved. not from me.”

he presses his forehead to yours and whispers, “can i just stay here with you for a while?”

then, a small smile. “also i might’ve left my sanity in the ice bath, but at least you’re here.”

ʚ・aston martin

fernando alonso

he comes home calm, like always. keys on the counter, jacket folded neatly. but there’s a tightness in his smile when he kisses your cheek.

“today was… different,” he says. not dramatic, not upset. just honest. “did everything right. still fell short.”

you know when it hits him—it’s in the way he lingers at the window, watching the sky like it has answers.

“some days you feel time catching up with you,” he says quietly. “not just in racing. in everything.”

he doesn’t need you to fix it. he doesn’t even need a pep talk. just presence.

you sit beside him on the couch, thigh to thigh, and rest your hand on his. he doesn’t speak for a while.

then, softly, “i think it just hurts more when you still want it this badly.”

you turn to face him. “it’s not weakness to want. it means you’re still alive in it.”

he smiles a little, shakes his head. “you’re too poetic for me.” but he leans in, rests his head against yours anyway.

“you help me breathe on days like this,” he murmurs. “even if i don’t say it.”

then after a pause, he smirks. “also… i might require some very specific stress relief later. for mental health reasons.”

you laugh. “is that what we’re calling it now?”

“doctor’s orders.”

lance stroll

walks in without a word, drops his stuff, and immediately faceplants onto the bed—fully dressed, shoes still on.

groans into the mattress. “everything sucks. i suck. the car sucks. media sucks. people suck.”

doesn’t want to talk at first, just grunts when you ask if he’s hungry. “no. actually, yes. but i don’t wanna move.”

you bring him snacks and he eats them off your plate like a sleepy gremlin, mumbling, “you’re the only good thing today.”

flops his head into your lap and finally breathes properly for the first time all day. “i hate how drained i get. everyone wants something. i just wanna be here.”

you run your fingers through his hair and he closes his eyes, murmuring, “i think i used my entire personality quota at the track.”

“can we just stay in here forever? like… disappear? change our names? move to a mountain town?”

you smile and nod. “sure. i’ll pack the stuff.”

he grins sleepily, then pulls your hand to his chest. “you make everything feel less loud.”

then, quietly: “you’re my safe place.”

five minutes later, fully under the blanket, eyes half-closed: “also. i’d like to make out now. for comfort purposes.”

ʚ・williams

alex albon

walks in already scrolling tiktok, earbuds in, nodding like he’s totally unbothered.

plops onto the couch, legs across your lap, and shows you cat videos like he didn’t just get roasted by strategy and a five-place penalty.

laughs too loud at dumb memes. “this is healing. this is therapy.”

you let him vibe, let him chill, until you see that slight pause mid-scroll. his thumb hovers. brows knit. he doesn’t show you this one.

“people are brutal today,” he mutters, still staring at the screen. “like… i know i joke about it, but sometimes i wonder if they’re actually right.”

you take his phone gently, set it down, and crawl into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “hey. you know they’re not.”

he exhales slowly, voice quieter now. “i wish it didn’t get to me, but some days it does. just a little more than i’d like to admit.”

you press your forehead to his. “you don’t have to be funny about everything. you’re allowed to feel it too.”

he nods, lips pressed together. then, soft as ever: “can you just… hold me for a bit? like properly?”

“always,” you whisper. and he lets himself be still. no jokes. just you.

carlos sainz

he comes in with that tired-but-trying smile, tossing his bag down gently like even that feels heavy.

“it wasn’t… great. but i learned something. that’s always the takeaway, no?” he says, already slipping off his jacket.

he talks himself through it out loud, mostly to you but partly to himself. “maybe i pushed too hard. maybe the strategy wasn’t perfect. but i didn’t give up. that matters.”

you nod and hum and let him vent until he runs out of words and just stares at the wall in thoughtful silence.

“can i have a hug now?” he asks suddenly, already walking over like he knows the answer.

wraps his arms around your waist and buries his face in your shoulder. “you’re the only place i feel like i can breathe after a day like this.”

you guide him to the couch and he pulls you into his lap, burying his face into your neck like it recharges him.

“even if i’m okay… i still need this. i think everyone does, sometimes.”

he starts to drift off mid-cuddle, fingers tracing your spine lazily, voice getting slower.

“i should just speak spanish. english is too much work when i’m tired,” he mumbles against your skin.

then whispers, “gracias por amarme incluso cuando me siento roto.” (thank you for loving me even when i feel broken.)

you press a kiss to his forehead. “always.”

“te juro que voy a mejorar. para ti. para mí.” (i swear i’m going to get better. for you. for me.)

ʚ・haas

ollie bearman

bursts into the room like he just won the race. “alright! that was a trainwreck. who wants to start the post-race roast?”

keeps making jokes like, “honestly, i think i invented new ways to mess up today. f1 history books: written by me.”

you raise an eyebrow and say nothing, just letting him go off while he rants about strategy, traffic, “and my stupid left foot that forgot how to brake.”

finally crashes onto the couch, staring at the ceiling with a dramatic sigh. “do you think i peaked at 17?”

you crawl into his lap and cup his face gently. “no. i think you haven’t even scratched the surface of what you’re capable of.”

he blinks up at you, smile faltering for just a second. “yeah? even after… whatever that was today?”

“especially after that,” you say, brushing a thumb over his cheek. “you care. you fight for it. that’s what makes you special.”

he exhales, the tension leaving his body all at once as he buries his face in your chest. “okay, now i’m gonna cry like a little baby, hope you’re ready.”

you kiss the top of his head. “already holding you. already proud.”

he peeks up with a grin. “can you say that again but like, with sparkles and dramatic background music?”

you laugh. “ollie bearman, you are a legend in the making.”

“that’s the energy. now kiss me before i start doing self-deprecating tiktoks.”

esteban ocon

comes home calm, too calm, like he’s holding everything in with white knuckles and discipline.

doesn’t speak until he’s showered, changed, and had a full 20 minutes of silence. then sits beside you and says softly, “he was better today. i saw it.”

you know he means another driver—someone younger, someone faster today—and you can hear the frustration in his restraint.

“maybe i’m not doing enough,” he mutters, barely above a whisper. “maybe i’m the weak point.”

you try to stop him, but he just shakes his head. “i’m not fishing. i just… feel it. and i hate it.”

he’s not angry. he’s just disappointed in himself. his brows stay pinched even when you’re stroking his hand.

“i’m scared that if i don’t prove it now, no one will believe in me later.”

you climb into his lap and hold his face gently, forcing him to look you in the eye. “you don’t need to prove anything to be worthy of love. or respect.”

he leans into your touch, eyes closed. “i want to believe that. i do.”

you kiss his cheek. “then start here. start with me. i’ve always believed in you.”

he lets out a shaky breath and whispers, “merci…” then rests his forehead against yours like he’s anchoring himself back to solid ground.

ʚ・racing bulls

liam lawson

walks in tossing his hat onto the kitchen counter and mutters, “well that was a steaming pile of absolute crap.”

jokes about it in that dry way. “should’ve just driven a shopping trolley. might’ve gotten better results.”

he’s pacing while he talks, voice calm but clipped. “not even mad at anyone specifically. just… the whole bloody universe.”

you lean on the doorframe, arms crossed. “want me to fight the universe?”

he smirks, shaking his head. “nah. that’s my job. but i appreciate the backup.”

doesn’t take it out on you at all—in fact, he’s more affectionate. keeps reaching for your hand while he vents.

“i know it’s just one race. i do. but it builds up, y’know? starts to feel like you’re yelling into a void and it’s all echo.”

you guide him to the couch and let him rest his head in your lap. “you’re allowed to yell. i’ll hear it. even if the world doesn’t.”

he sighs and looks up at you with that soft, slightly crooked smile. “you’re dangerously good at this, you know that?” “at what?”

“loving me out of a bad mood.”

then he tilts his head and adds, completely casual, “might need a little… extra cheering up later though.”

you roll your eyes. “that what you’re calling it now?”

he grins. “what can i say? i’m a man of simple needs.”

isack hadjar

bursts through the door like a tornado. “I AM RETIRING. I’M QUITTING. I’M GOING TO OPEN A BAKERY. OR JOIN A CULT. SOMETHING PEACEFUL.”

flings his bag across the room, misses the couch, and nearly knocks over a lamp. doesn’t even blink.

“do you know how humiliating it is to be passed like that? i was driving my heart out and the car was like, ‘no...NOPE..NOOOO.’”

keeps fake-dramatizing it like a one-man soap opera. “isack hadjar: the fall from grace – coming soon to a streaming platform near you.”

you play along for a bit until he finally plops onto the floor at your feet and just… sits. quietly.

“i was actually trying today,” he mumbles, not looking at you. “like properly trying. and it still went to shit.”

you sit down beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and he leans into you slowly like he’s deflating.

“sometimes i feel like people are just waiting for me to fail so they can say they knew it.”

you turn to him gently. “they’re not. and even if they were… you’ve already proven them wrong just by showing up the way you do.”

he rests his head on your shoulder with a sigh. “you’re annoyingly good at this whole ‘being nice to me’ thing.”

you grin. “want me to stop?”

“no,” he mutters, snuggling closer. “never. might need it tattooed on me actually. in comic sans.”

ʚ・alpine

pierre gasly

slams the door just a little too hard. doesn't say anything at first—just kicks off his shoes, throws his phone on the table, and heads straight to the kitchen for water like it personally wronged him.

“they don’t listen. doesn’t matter what i say. it’s like talking to a fucking wall,” he mutters, pacing like he’s ready to punch a pillow.

you try to say something gentle and he snaps a little too fast—“i’m fine, okay?” but it’s not sharp. it’s exhausted.

he keeps moving around the room, hands on his hips, jaw clenched. “maybe i should stop caring. maybe that’s the trick.”

you don’t respond—you just walk over and wrap your arms around him from behind. he tenses for half a second. then sighs.

“you always do that,” he mumbles, not pulling away. “just… hug me until i stop being mad.”

you press your cheek to his back. “because i know you’re not really mad. you’re tired. and hurt.”

he turns around and buries his face in your neck like it’s the only safe place he knows. “i hate that they make me feel like this. like i’m not enough.”

you kiss his hair. “you are. always have been.”

he holds you tighter, breath shaky. “i don’t say it enough, but… i need you. especially on days like this.”

then, muffled: “also if you kiss me again i’ll probably forget what i was mad about. just sayin’.”

jack doohan

in front of the team? stone-faced. cool. collected. “yeah, not the best day. we’ll move on. it’s fine.”

comes home? immediately sighs the second the door closes. rests his forehead against the wall for a solid ten seconds before moving.

tries to act chill around you too. “it’s just one of those days. happens. i’m fine.”

he is not fine. but he’s doing that thing where he says he’s okay while avoiding eye contact and changing the subject every 3.2 seconds.

“you hungry?” he asks, even though he’s barely eaten since breakfast. “we could order something. or not. i don’t care.”

you eventually pull him onto the couch, and he lets himself flop next to you, arms crossed like a sulky cat.

he won’t say it outright, but his knee is bouncing, his fingers are twitching, and he keeps glancing at you like he wants permission to crack.

“i just hate looking like i don’t belong here,” he finally mumbles, voice low. “like i’ve got something to prove every second.”

you crawl into his lap and cup his jaw, making him look at you. “you belong. you’re not failing. you’re learning. that’s what makes you good.”

his lips part like he wants to argue, but then he just exhales and wraps his arms around you like you’re the only thing holding him up.

“it’s stupid,” he whispers. “i didn’t want to need comfort today. but here i am.”

you smile. “i don’t mind. i like being the person you let your guard down with.”

he looks at you with soft eyes and the tiniest grin. “well… if i’m already emotionally vulnerable and pathetic… might as well make out about it?”

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[theclassiccherry]

class 2-a misc. headcanons

hey, I'm cherry. welcome. recs are open if you're interested. much love, drink some water, and take care babe. (also, a lot of this turned into their music tastes, so??)

tw: language, but that’s expected w me

====

-Todoroki and Momo are both well traveled, having been to multiple countries, and at one point or another becomes something the two share about with one another.

-Deku absolutely had a fnaf phase.

-It's canon Bakugou likes romance novels; however, sharks I present to you: Bakugou watches Bridgerton. Send tweet.

-Mina has a fake and has used it to buy alcohol; however, this doesn't work so well after the sports festival after she's disclosed as a first year.

-I saw someone posted that Bakugou is a Kendrick Lamar fan, so whoever originally posted that, full credit to you (if you know, please comment and I'll tag them) -- I'd like to add he's a Future, Metro, 21 Savage, and The Weeknd fan as well, and you bet your ass he's training to The Hills, 10 Freaky Girls, and Mask Off.

-Bakugou has a skin care routine.

-Kirishima knows 'Unwritten' by Natasha Bedingfield by heart. If it gets played, he gets into that shit.

-There's a speaker system in Gym Gamma, and everyone takes turns on aux whenever there's a class practice. Songs that get played most are as follows:

Surround Sound by JID, 21 Savage, and Baby Tate

Without Me by Eminem

Literally anything that's by Rihanna, Pitbull, Nicki Minaj, Cardi B, or Blackpink

m.A.A.d city by Kendrick Lamar

10 Freaky Girls by 21 Savage and Metro Boomin

Not Like Us by Kendrick Lamar

(idk I feel like rap goes hard when you're training to kick ass, yk)

Livin' on a Prayer by Bon Jovi (one of kiri's favorite songs)

yk Smooth Operator by Sade too 😭

-After the drake disses, no one is allowed to play drake, it gets vetoed almost immediately. however when not like us comes on, everyone holds the 'A MINORRR' and it's fucking gold

-Bakugou, Mina, Jirou, and Kirishima are primarily in control of the music cause the class tends to like whatever they play, but if enough people yell skip, the song gets vetoed.

-Deku could roast the shit out of someone if he chose to, like if you put him in Wild'n'Out he'd gut bitches, he's just too nice and keeps his mouth shut 99.9% of the time. Considering he knows so much about people, their habits, and quirks, he's also unintentionally got dirt on people. All of saying is, Deku could 1000% pull a Kendrick Lamar and end someone's career if he just decided to.

-Inko Midoriya brings food over to the class dorms for those who choose to remain in the dorms. She's the emergency contact for like, half of the class, and is essentially everyone's mom. If something's wrong, Momma Midoriya is already in the mom van and on the way.

-Mitsuki is a wine mom. Tell me I'm wrong. I'll wait.

-Kirishima has like, 50 flavors of protein powder. it's all stacked neatly on a shelf in his dorm.

-Kaminari has been banned from the kitchen, he's too much of a liability once he starts 'cooking'.

-Sato keeps a cookie jar, and bakes fresh cookies every couple days - it lives in the kitchen off to the side. He's also just really laid back, and if you're on your cycle and have a specific pastry you're craving, if you ask, he'll make it for you fresh if he has the time.

-Kirishima is a hugger and if you've had a bad day, and need a hug, just hug him. He'll sit there and hold you as long as you need, stating it's, "manly to hug it out!"

-Deku also gives amazing hugs, but is too shy to do so with people he's not close with.

-Mina and Hagakure host dance parties every Friday night for the girlies. No boys are allowed, but Aoyama is invited because he's fabulous.

-Bakugou, Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero play Fortnite and COD together. Kirishima called them the 'Baku-squad' once and that's when that term was first coined by the group (in my headcanons). Bakugou secretly likes that it's named after him.

-Deku, Tsu, Uraraka, Todoroki and Ilda have a Minecraft server together. Deku built a massive All Might and proceeded to live in it, Tsu has a hut by the mangroves, Uraraka lives in the cherry biome, and then Todoroki and Ilda have this really organized massive house in a spruce forrest. When everyone saw it for the first time, they all went, "holy shit...". Lest to say it soon becomes the HQ of the server when they suit up for the ender dragon fight.

-Speaking of Minecraft, Deku builds the most elaborate red stone you've ever seen, but cannot explain how and what he built to save his life. He also owns all of the Minecraft books that came out in like, 2016.

-Aizawa lives on Melatonin gummies, black coffee, and shear force of will. I also feel like at one point in his early 20s he smoked cigarettes then quit.

-Sero's hammock is something he keeps as a privilege after Bakugou broke it.

-Bakugou just happens to 'make too much' food and happens to make sure his friends have eaten properly.

-Present Mic is a die hard Mitsuki fan.

-Aizawa genuinely loves his students and does little things for them. Like at graduation, there's a small note from him to each student in their diplomas for them to find later. It's personalized for each of them, but he gives his personal contact to all in case they ever need anything (he would drop everything and help but he won't say that out loud).

-If Bakugou or Midoriya ever got ahold of Thor's hammer, they'd both be worthy. Bakugou more-so at the end of the series than the beginning. Kirishima could also lift it depending on the situation.

-Mineta's been sent to detention multiple times for looking up things he should NOT be googling on the school WiFi. Aizawa is really sick of his shit, he refuses to even look at the links anymore cause it's bad, and so he just lectures him like a hopeless parent and then gives the Chromebook back lmao

-Aizawa uses his body wash as face wash and has flawless skin.

-If Denki was a vine, he’d be the *calling roll call* “Uh, Shithead?” “It’s pronounced shi-thead”

copyright © @theclassiccherry

[aussiexlovexaffair]

domestic moments with clingy bf!luke words: 1.1k request fill: anon ask! genre: tooth-rotting fluff  tw: none! author’s note: y’all i need you to peer pressure me into posting istg but hope you enjoy!! Also I kinda got distracted so this might fall into a more domestic category than clingy lmao listen to: “she will be loved” by maroon 5

-

“Lucas Robert Hemmings, you’re suffocating me..” You grumble from underneath the blond boy wrapped around you like a koala. He cringes at the use of his full name.

“S’ not enough…” Luke shoves his head into the crook of your neck, rubbing his button nose against your warm skin. “You’re not close enough.” He adds tiredly, his lips barely moving as he speaks in his soft accent. Ever since Luke had gotten to the States, the thick Australian accent he once had slowly started to fade into a more gentle version of it. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss his voice before.

You giggle at the observation. “You’re literally on top of me. I don’t think I can get any closer.” This time, the boy lifts his head ever so slightly with narrowed eyes and lips pulled thin in disappointment. “Hey, don’t give me that look. I’ll call your mother.”

Luke lets out a soft exhale through his nose. A smile gradually forms on his lips. “I don’t like that you and my mom are so close. You call her more than I do.” Shrugging, you roll your eyes at his comment. “Not that it’s a bad thing. I like that she likes you..”

“I do too…” You agree sheepishly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that nervous when meeting someone.” Resting his cheek against your chest, Luke laughs quietly. 

“Stop it— did I make her seem that scary? I thought I made her look cool…” He pouts faintly, reflecting on how he described her to you. Shaking your head, you press a kiss to his forehead that garners a hum of approval from the back of his throat.

“Not scary, but meeting anyone’s parents is terrifying. I know she loves you and I know that she’s protective of you, I get it.” You shuffle up the bed and rest against your headboard, leaving Luke laying his head against your stomach. His lanky arms snake around you to anchor himself to your body. “Remember when you met my dad?”

Luke feels his face heat up instantaneously. “Yes, I remember when I met your dad.” He huffs, letting out a high-pitched groan at the memory. He recalls when he first came face-to-face with him. In the moment, he imagined what it looked like to him— some lanky loser with a pimply face and red cheeks holding hands with his prize of a daughter. Luke shoves his face into your skin shyly. “My voice cracked so bad.”

You can’t help but let out a loud snicker when the memory resurfaces. Luke had gone to shake your father’s hand and introduce himself, but it all went awry when he opened his mouth. He didn’t get a single word out before it had happened, either. But it did break some of the tension between the two of them, so it wasn’t entirely bad.

Luke’s eyes shoot upward at you at the sound of your laugh. “Hey.” He sulks. “That’s mean. Don’t tease me…” He detaches himself from you for a moment before fixing his position so he can sit right beside you against the headboard.

Grabbing your phone, you decide to turn on some background music for the moment— something to set the mood— and scroll through your playlist. Eventually, you stumble upon one that you commonly played in quiet moments like this: the combined playlist that you and Luke had created some time within your relationship. The first song, “She Will Be Loved” by Maroon 5, reminds you of the car ride you two had taken back to your house after your first official date.

You two had gone to an arcade and blown Luke’s most recent paycheck that he earned working a servo back home. At first, you insisted that you use your own money or at least split the expenses between the two of you, but he was adamant that he took you on a proper date, whatever that meant for him. Afterward, you’d gone to a 24/7 diner for dinner, another thing that Luke refused to let you pay for. “It’s my job..” you recall him saying to you after you’d complained about feeling guilty.

Catching you in the middle of zoning out, you feel Luke rest his chin on your shoulder, watching the phone screen. “Whatcha doin’?” He breaks your concentration, sliding his hands up your side comfortingly.

Pressing the title of the song and connecting your phone to the speaker in your room, you swivel around in his arms to face him. “Just thinkin’.” The sound of the song playing low in the quiet of your room has a smile growing on his face. 

“I play this song a lot…” He begins quietly. Luke reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers together. “I like thinking about that night too. I remember I had just gotten my license too, so I was thinking the entire time: ‘God, please don’t crash. Please don’t crash..’” His cheeky smile grows at the sound of your laughter.

“But you didn’t.” You interrupt him. He nods, his teeth catching his lip piercing absentmindedly. 

“I almost did—” He interrupts himself with a giggle. “I almost did after you, uhm.. You kissed my cheek when I dropped you off. You kinda just… walked off afterward but I felt like my face was on fire.” 

You hum in response, recalling hearing him attempt to say something smooth afterward, but failing to come up with anything. “It was cute, I remember.”

His hands grasp at your hips, tugging you impossibly closer to him. “And then I watched you walk inside and immediately after the door closed, you texted me: ‘Let’s do it again sometime.’ With a winky emoji at the end and I don’t think I’ve ever felt that good in my life.” 

Your eyes wander down to where his slender fingers subtly dig into your sweatpants. “You’re touchy tonight..” In your voice, there’s an obvious hint of playfulness. 

He crinkles his nose and looks away, his spotted cheeks heating up. “I can’t help it…” He returns his gaze to you, his smile lighting up the dim room. You now understood why some people called it his ‘hamster face’ — the combination of his scrunched nose and toothy grin resembled one strikingly.

His grip on you grows firm for a moment and he flips you onto your back, tumbling after you in a mess of limbs so that he can lean over you. A few strands of his once perfect quiff hang in his face, but you do him a favor and fix it. “This close enough for you, idiot?”

Shaking his head, he allows his arms to give out and he falls on top of you, practically smothering you once again. “Luke!!..” You groan, your voice muffled by his shirt, the material practically in your mouth from the proximity.  His body slumps, finally finding himself comfortable, and he exhales softly. “Mhmm.. I think I’m close enough for now.”

[sanemisstalker]

NSFW sanemi post. obsessed with this stupid gif of him. This turned out way longer than i thought it would. Humiliating.

TW / fem genitals reader / he like, huffs your crotch. I know that turns some people off but he's not right in the head don't worry about it/you beg to get pregnant but like, you're not right in the head either-

Thinking about having a normal day with Sanemi, but something is off. Like- off, off. He's more silent than usual, and somewhat adverse to your touch.

He's not being cruel, he just seems almost confused? He's blinking more than usual, and looks to be almost dissociating during normal investigative tasks.

So okay. Whatever. You figure he needs a cool off day, you stop bothering him. The day winds down, and you and Sanemi are left cleaning up- normal.

Sanemi steps away from the scene, from you and the Kakashi for just a moment. Says he needs to piss. Normally you'd insist he'd get medical help, but the demon was miniscule, really. Maybe he got a new little knick. Nothing insane.

After your checkup, it's been maybe 30 minutes. Nobodies bladder is that big. You start to get a little worried. Not that he wasn't a pillar or whatever the hell, but still. He was your lover, and you liked for him to be in one piece and not wandering the woods at night.

So you venture off in the direction you saw him go- and it doesn't take you very long to find him. And when you do you're floored.

Sanemi has hunkered down at the base of a rather large tree. The first thing you see to indicate it's him is that snow white hair- standing out starch against all the deep green and brown-

And the second thing you note is the quiver of his body, and the almost animalistic speed of his arm, pumping furiously at his cock. Sanemi isn't a moaner by any means, but he is uninhibited now, thinking his voice is lost to the forest. He's all but crying.

One knee is bent up, pushing him against the tree, the other digging into the ground- his legs are open enough for his dick to be on full display. His pants are pulled down just enough to offer his cock freedom.

After a couple of hard jerks, he yanks his hand away to throw his head back. His feet press hard into the ground-

This state isn't enough to stop him from realizing you're there, though. It's seconds after you get within sight of him that Sanemi is scrambling to cover himself. He almost folds up like a lawn chair, but even the graze of his clothed thigh against his tip has him reeling.

'You need to leave.' He huffs,, voice shredded and throat dry.

'You look like you're in pain- are you o-okay?' You whispered.

'No!' He choked out. 'It's been like this all day it hurts so fucking bad.' His eyes looked like saucers. His face was blistering. He didn't add that it got worse everytime you opened your mouth or moved or hell- blinked. He felt vile, really. There wasn't anything particularly special about you today. He was just- terribly down for you.

You carefully made your way over to him.

'Don't look!' He spat. A hand flew up to your eyes instinctively. You immediately began to miss his miserable state, but you continued toward him. 'Y/N I swear to- fuck me- shi-hitt.' He slurred as your hand found the top of his head. His hair was soft, though his head was warm. You could feel a miniscule amount of sweat gathering at the base.

He'd immediately melt into your hand, all pleas of embrassment dissapearing, though the feeling wouldn't just leave. You hear him shuffle.

'You shouldn't have to see me like this-' He'd choke out, not knowing how pretty he looked. His head would crane up to your crotch, burying his face against the fabric. The scent was insanity inducing, driving his nose further up against your clit.

'Fuck' He'd slur 'I'm disgusting- I'm sorry-'

'I'm sorry you're so worked up.' You laughed a bit. 'Is there anything I can do to help?'

'You- fuck- come down here.' He mumbled, tugging at your pants. You knelt down next to him. He'd reach into your pants, not bothering to tug them down. You stayed silent, despite the sudden fingers spreading your slit open.

You could feel him begin to shake again, beating his dick with another low whine.

You'd take it upon yourself to pull your pants down. You'd laugh as his breathe would catch in his throat at the sight.

'Spread your legs.' He'd demand. You'd do as told and the noise he'd let out at the sight of your now sticky thighs and dripping cunt would be carnal. His hand would struggle to stabilize against your hip, fluttering on and off, gripping and grazing. He'd seem afraid to touch you. 'Ah, for me?' He'd croak out, trying to be suave and safe face, but even he released he couldn't manage it.

'Sanemi I want to- I want to open my eyes really bad.'

'You cant- see me like this. I'm a mess, you're not- ngh- ah-- god- missing anything.' He'd slip a finger in you with ease. Adding another a moment later. Despite the painful speed at which he was going with his own cock, Sanemi's hand with you was a much slower speed. Still a little rough and jagged, but more interested in staying inside of you, palm flat against your clit.

You'd bite your lip.

He didn't want you to look because he was sure he must look insane right now. Moreso than usual. He didn't want to blink and miss even a moment of seeing your pussy sucking on his fingers, so he wasn't. A blank, slack jaw stare at your pussy.

He didn't want you to look because he wanted to be rough with his dick. He wanted to edge. To be unsightly when he was done, face and chest red and blotchy- sweat pouring down him. He needed to just fucking let go. The ache had been weighing his limbs down the entire day, begging him to fuck you against anything, and infront of everyone. After killing that demon, it took an incredible show of strength to not bend you down next to the thing and give it something to take to the grave-

Sanemi would never do that- which is why he looked the way he looked right now, because he was really hating how close he got.

He'd finally pull out, taking his hand away from his twitching cock and over to your waist. He lifted you carefully up and over his lap until you were knelt above him.

'Can I see your chest?' He'd ask.

'Can I open my eyes?' You'd return, finally getting huffy. Sanemi practically barked. You could hear his teeth grinding together.

'No!' Sanemi shook his head. 'I'm pathetic right now, Y/N! Why would you possibly want to look at mw while I'm like this?'

'Because it was really hot.' You responded with little hesitation and full desperation, unable to rub your legs together like you really wanted. 'I really want to see you when you come- want to see your pretty face.'

'I'm not pretty.'

'You are!' You'd choke.

'You're pretty, I'm not pretty.' Sanemi mumbled.

'We can both be pretty.' You'd reason. Sanemi would huff. It took a moment of silence, the forest chirping and breathing beneath you all-

'If- if you open your eyes, you can't laugh at me.'

'I won't, I swear.' Sanemi's hand found your collar, and began to slowly unbutton it. Your eyes would flutter open, and you'd just swoon.

His eyes were so lax, so focused on your face and so- drunk. He looked like his breathe was going to stop any second. His chest was as flushed as his face. The fingers that had been inside of you had found their way to his lips.

He looked so fucked.

Your breath would shutter at the sight, your knees would almost give way- begging for his cock inside of you on a purely physical level-

You reached down, pulling his erection up to align with your hole- but Sanemi's hand reached out to grab you by the wrist.

'If I fuck you right now, I'm going to cum in seconds. No.' He choked. 'I'm not going to do that. I can't cum in you, I won't.' He'd fret.

'I want it.' You'd plead. His whole body would faulter. 'I won't get pregnant, I promise. I just- I want your cum in me-' your hand tightened around his cock, and your words rang in his ears.

'No we can't- Oh fuck- oh god-' With your hand still latched around his dick, Sanemi's back shot up and off the tree. His hands would reach up to latch over his lips and prevent the ovary shattering scream he wanted to loose. His eyes would roll back, feet digging into the ground-

His cum would absolutely paint your pussy. It'd splatter against your slit, and then drip back down onto his cock, spiraling down to his balls-

You'd never seen so much cum. It pooled against the waistband of his pants- spilling down his hips.

Sanemi would be left nonverbal after this, hands dropping to his chest to tighten around his haori- He'd look shocked, wide eyed and alert.

And very, very humiliated.

[velmalav]

Just There - Frank Langdon

it's been a while :-)

content: fluff, angst (?), social worker (y/n)

tw: flashbacks, smoking (?)

I can barely hear my own coughs as I hit my vape in the corner of the karaoke bar. The couple next up is wailing something that sounds like Nirvana, but I cannot be sure. I try to follow the music, but every time I think I’ve placed the song, they go up an octave. I down the rest of my vodka red bull, leave the glass on the edge of the bar, and worm my way through the crowd.

Surprise is the only word I can describe my post-shift outing. This is one of the first times I have been invited to one of these, and it is nothing like I expected. Still reeling from the day of talking down patient’s families and regurgitating that into my charting, a crowded bar is not typically how I would unwind. But, again, I’ve never been asked before, so it felt kind of hard to say no.

“Didn’t take you for a smoker,” a voice says, and the only reason I hear it is because of how low it is under the wailing on the stage. I look up from shoving my vape in my jacket pocket to see Langdon, one of the dayshift residents.

“A lot you don’t know about me,” I reply with a little smile. As I move past him, I pat him on the shoulder, and under my breath add, “Since you never bother to get to know anyone on the floor.”

I head for the glob of coworkers sitting at a table fit for a large group. Some are drifting off into space – probably trying to drown out the horrible singers on stage – and some are downing shots like it’s a lifeline. All the chairs are being used so I stand in one of the corners, well-aware Langdon has followed me. He perches beside me, hands clasped behind his back.

“I thought social workers were supposed to be nicer,” he mutters to me. I turn my head to meet his eyes. He’s smiling.

“Then you obviously don’t know much about my job either,” I snort, fiddling with the lip balm and keys in my pockets. “And we are nice. I’m just not on the clock.”

Langdon huffs out a laugh, “Fair enough.”

Donnie brings a round of shots to the table, announcing he knows the bartender and it was on the house. I don’t hesitate to grab one, in fact, no one at the table does. It was a rough shift for everyone, surrounded by codes and death all day.

The shot goes down much easier than the last, and I finally start to feel a buzz. A couple of the nurses head off to the pool table, the interns disappearing into the crowd. I finally steal one of the seats and pretend to listen to Mohan and King go on about a difficult case from this morning. I can’t shake the lethargy and heaviness to the point where even the mention of today’s events irritates me. Particularly tragic days like today make it hard to engage in even the lightest of conversations.

It seems I can’t even pretend very well because both stop speaking all the sudden, and they are staring at me, “You okay?” Mohan asks, tipping her drink around in her hands.

Reluctant to answer honestly, I give a nonchalant nod and force a smile. “Just need some air, I’ll be right back.”

With no intention of returning, I casually get up out of my seat and head towards the nearest exit. As soon as they are both out of eyesight, I book it out without so much as a nod towards the nurses at the pool table.

Thankfully there’s a chill outside now that the sun is set. I stand with my back against the brick building, taking deep breaths. Maybe getting drunk was an even worse decision than I thought. Somehow the alcohol just made my thoughts race even faster.

“Making good use of your coping skills, I see.”

I don’t even need to turn my head to recognize the voice again.

“Shocked you even know what a coping skill is,” I say, reaching for my vape again. I don’t even need the hit, just need something to busy my hands.

“Contrary to popular belief, I do know things,” Langdon says, moving stand beside me, hands also in his jacket pockets. “Like that today was a total shit show.”

As I exhale, I nod, letting the smoke envelope us. “Yeah, it was.”

“How are you handling it?”

I finally look at him. “I don’t know. How are you?”

Langdon shrugs as if he’s shrugging off the last 12 hours. “Same way I always do. Distracting myself.”

“Wouldn’t be my first way to cope,” I reply. “That only works for so long.”

“But it does work,” he says with a lopsided smile, now turning so he’s facing me with his right side still on the wall. “I’m all about immediate results.”

I laugh, raising my eyebrows in understanding. “I could’ve guessed that.”

“Didn’t realize I was so predictable,” he chimes, eyes boring into the side of my face. There’s a thick silence following his words as he awaits my response.

I stare straight ahead, trying not to engage anymore for a couple of reasons. One, all I want to do is walk home and crash. Two, Langdon’s known as the resident asshole, and I’m especially not going to be forthcoming to him.

Almost as if he’s read my thoughts, he breaks the silence.

“Oh, c’mon,” Langdon’s voice lowers. “For someone who thinks I don’t try to get to know anyone, you’re putting up a pretty tough wall.”

So he did hear that. And now I’ll be the resident asshole if I continue to ignore him.

“Ok,” I sigh, pushing my side against the wall to match his pose.

“Ok,” he smiles, a little too cheerfully.

“Ok,” I repeat, suddenly having an epiphany. I narrow my eyes as I respond, “Only if you can tell me what my name is.”

Langdon’s demeanor falters for a moment, and I’m confident I’ve finally defeated him. Then his small smile returns, and there’s a twinkle in his eye, “Y/N.”

Realizing he has in fact defeated me, I put up my hands in surrender. “It seems I doubted you a little too much.”

“You wouldn’t be the first,” he jokes. His eyes land on the vape between my fingers. “Can I?”

I look between the vape and him, a bit surprised, and then hand it off, “Be my guest.”

I already know how this will unfold after years of having friends try it for fun, so I am already laughing when Langdon starts coughing into his elbow.

“How the hell do you do that?” he coughs out, now bending over in pain. “My lungs fucking hurt.”

“You get used to it,” I reply, palming the vape and stuffing it in my pocket. “The head high is nice, though.”

Langdon leans his head against the wall, gazing up at the night sky. “Wait, yeah. It kind of is.”

“Told you,” I smile, “But that’s the last you get from me. I don’t want to be the reason you get hooked.”

“Very social worker of you,” he laughs. We stand there, this time in a comfortable silence, staring up at the muddy sky of downtown Pittsburgh. No stars from all the light pollution, but nice, nevertheless.

At one point, I avert my eyes from the sky and find myself watching Langdon. He has bags under his eyes, cheekbones hollow, mouth slightly parted. With his head craning upwards, I can see the full column of his throat. I’ve seen him for hours on end for days and days, but this is the first time I am actually looking at him. At how bright his eyes are, how one strand of dark hair falls into his eye. He’s not bad looking at all.

“Need a ride home?” he suddenly says. We lock eyes, and I’m suddenly embarrassed to have been studying him so closely. My face heats up.

“Uh, I’m good. Not far from my place.”

“It’s dark and it’s on the way,” he replies.

“Sounds like you already decided,” I say. “But, yeah, okay, sure.”

Langdon pushes himself from the wall and nods to the left side of the parking lot. We walk in silence and strap into the black Sedan. I give him the simple instructions to get to my place and then it goes quiet again. I rest my head and stare out the window, noticing small flakes of snow drifting past.

“Why tonight?” I ask in my reverie, watching the cars pass on the small side street. Langdon turns onto it, and I hear him sigh.

“Tonight what?”

“To start talking to me,” I respond, now facing him. Langdon glances over as if studying my facial expression. And I’m sure it looks confused.

“Looked like you needed someone to distract you,” he says easily. Then he smirks, “And, you know, you’re hot.”

I’m glad he’s looking at the road because his words catch me off guard and my face heats up again. I huff a laugh and face towards the passenger window, not wanting him to get any satisfaction in my reaction.

“So that’s why you wanted to give me a ride home so badly,” I murmur. “Pretty privilege is real, then, huh?”

Langdon laughs at that, taking a right into my neighborhood. As he pulls up to my place, I mutter a quick, “This is me,” and begin to unbuckle.

I pat my pockets to make sure I have everything when I realize my phone is gone. I search in between the seats, “Do you see my phone?”

Langdon searches too, hands fumbling around the front console and in between that and the seat. I turn to search in the same place when we both happen to look up. I didn’t realize how close we were until this moment, his bright eyes so close it makes me go rigid.

“Sorry,” I stumble out, glancing back down at the cup holders. In my peripheral, I can see Langdon still in the same position, but his eyes have followed me down. No phone anywhere in sight. Did I leave it at the bar? Drop it on my way to the car?

“Don’t be sorry,” he suddenly says. I’m a mix between frantic for this goddamn phone and anxious from the tension between us, and God, I know he can feel it. I flop back against the seat in defeat when I feel something underneath me. I know it’s my phone before it’s in my hand.

I breathe a sigh of relief, glancing over at Langdon. He’s got the lopsided smile on again and a look that tells me he wants to give me shit for how I just reacted. And then I start to laugh.

“Just say it,” I muster out, holding my stomach. I’m laughing too hard for it to fit this situation, but it’s like all the tension from the day has led up to this.

“That was ridiculous,” he’s laughing now too, running a hand through his hair. It falls the same way it always does, and I can’t help but to stare again. As the laughs die down, the air slowly becomes serious and the tension returns. I don’t know what it is, but the racing thoughts from earlier stop and all I can do is just take him in. His chin dimple, his smile, the way his eyes crinkle. And I don’t know why I say it, but quietly in the silence I whisper.

“Do you want to come inside?”

Seeing Langdon in my apartment is a small reality check once the front door shuts. He also seems to feel like a fish out of water because his demeanor is cautious, taking in all the decorations and photos strung up. I drop my jacket on the couch, revealing the light green blouse I wore all day at work.

I don’t know why I asked and now I especially don’t know what to do with him now that he’s here. Awkwardly, I raise a hand towards the kitchen, “Uh, do you want something to drink?”

Langdon rocks on his heels and then gives a little nod, “Yeah, uh, water’s fine.”

“Good, cause that’s all I have,” I reply, shuffling over to the fridge. The apartment in an open floor plan. Kitchen, dining room, and living room are all in the same area, my bedroom and bathroom are tucked away in the corner blocked from sight by doors.

“Not even a juice box?” he jokes, tossing off his shoes and following me. For whatever reason, I feel a twinge of satisfaction at how quickly he got comfortable.

“Funny, but no,” I reply, filling a glass from my Brita filter and handing it to him. He murmurs a thanks and downs the water. “Damn, okay.”

Langdon chokes, hand going up to avoid spilling. Once finished, he lightly punches me on the arm, still chuckling, “Could’ve waited five more seconds for the commentary.”

“Sorry,” I laugh. He puts the glass in the sink and we both saunter to the living room. I move to take a seat when Langdon interrupts.

“Oh, so no house tour?” he says pointedly, as if I’ve done something truly fucked up.

“You want one?” I ask. “I mean, you’re looking at 75 percent of it right now.”

He shrugs, “What can I say? I’m nosy.”

I cave, giving a curt nod and leading him to the entrance of my bedroom. I turn the knob dramatically and then let it fly open. Langdon mutters, “Dramatic,” and follows me in. I flip the light switch to reveal a very ordinary bedroom. It’s not bleak but there isn’t much to look at save for a couple photos on the wall and some lights. Langdon does not hesitate to hop on the bed, sprawling out until his arms and legs have filled the space like he’s about to start doing snow angels.

“Make yourself at home,” I announce much too late. I fold my arms across my chest with an amused smile.

“Already on it,” he replies cooly, leaning up on his elbows. He wiggles in his spot, “Comfy. This a Tempur Pedic?”

I nod with a laugh, “Weird that you could tell, but yeah. Tax money.”

Langdon nods confidently, proud of his good call. It takes me back to the morning, same look on his face, entirely different and in a much more grave situation.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks suddenly. I realize I’d just been standing there blank-faced. He must’ve said something but I didn’t hear it over the newly remembered memories.

“Just work,” I breathe. And I’m back there, in the ER, holding a couple of parents back while Langdon and the other residents work on their child. I scratch my stomach under my blouse and bite my lip so hard I feel blood in my mouth.

Langdon slides off the bed and before I can dive into yet another memory, his warm hands are wrapping around my forearms and pulling them from under my blouse. For a split second his fingers graze my bare stomach and my breathing hitches.

“It’s the scrubs, isn’t it?” he murmurs gently, squeezing my arms to make sure I reply.

I shake my head, “No, no, not that. Don’t worry about it.”

Langdon then releases one of my arms to graze his fingers down the side of my face, pushing strands of unruly hair away. I’m pulled away from my thoughts when I realize how hard he’s staring at me – into me. Without thought, my free hand lands on his elbow, gripping itself into it.

I swallow, afraid to speak. Kind of afraid to breathe.

“Distraction, right?” Langdon whispers, eyes now running down my face until they reach my mouth. It’s a question, but not the question he vocalized. My nod is slow, almost unnoticeable, but he caught it anyway. And then his lips are on mine.

He lets my other arm fall so he can use his free hand to wrap around my waist. I immediately follow and rest my free hand on his arm, leaning into the kiss. It’s warm, gentle, not exactly what I was expecting from him. When we break, his forehead stays against mine. All the tension has washed away. Between us, the day’s events, my lost phone.

We’re just there.