#i can’t handle change and things going away

[srslyblvck]

a dare too far, james potter

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

synopsis: james was dared to make you fall in love with him. unknown to him, he was falling for you too. But soon the truth comes out, and you are left heartbroken.

genre: angst

warnings: mentions of y/n, heartbreak

word count: 1k

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ JAMES POTTER AND HIS friends, the infamous Marauders, were no strangers to trouble. Challenges, dares, and pranks fueled their Hogwarts days. This particular afternoon was no different as the four of them lounged on the couch in the Gryffindor common room.

"I dare you, Sirius, to go two whole weeks without getting detention," Remus said, a sly smile on his face.

Sirius scoffed, dramatically putting a hand over his heart. "Two weeks? You’re a sadist, Moony. But fine, I’ll take that bet."

Peter snickered. “It’ll be a miracle if you last even a day.”

With a smirk, Sirius turned toward James, mischief sparking in his eyes. “Alright, James. My turn. I dare you to… make her fall for you.”

James raised an eyebrow, confused. “Who?”

Sirius grinned wickedly and pointed in your direction, where you sat quietly in the corner of the common room, engrossed in a book. “Her. Y/N. The one who barely talks to anyone except her friends. The shy, sweet one. I dare you to make her fall for you.”

James followed Sirius’s gaze, frowning slightly. You were the girl who had always intrigued him—pretty, kind, and gentle, but mysterious in your quietness. You had rejected plenty of suitors over the years, always softly turning them down without ever coming off as harsh or rude. You weren’t one to make waves, yet people admired you for your kind heart.

Remus immediately sat up, his brow furrowed. “Hold on, Sirius. That’s not funny.”

“Yeah, Moony’s right,” Peter chimed in. “You can’t mess with her like that. It’s just… wrong.”

Sirius waved them off. “Oh, come on. It’s just a bit of fun.”

But Remus wasn’t laughing. “It’s playing with someone’s feelings.”

“James can handle it, can’t you, Prongs?” Sirius grinned, looking over at James.

James hesitated, glancing at you once more. The truth was, his heart still ached for Lily Evans, but she seemed as unreachable as ever. Maybe, just maybe, if he made you fall for him, it would make Lily jealous. Maybe she’d finally notice him.

With a shrug, James smirked. “Challenge accepted.”

Remus and Peter exchanged a look of disapproval, but Sirius clapped James on the back. “Atta boy.”

Over the next few weeks, James started finding ways to enter your life. It began with simple things—sitting near you in class, offering to carry your books, sharing small jokes, and asking you questions about yourself.

At first, you were surprised. James Potter, one of the most popular boys in school, was paying attention to you? You’d seen his confidence, his charm, and his easy smile, but you’d never been interested in boys like James. You preferred your quiet life, far away from the chaos that seemed to follow him and his friends.

But James… was persistent. And he wasn’t the show-off you thought he was. He was funny, thoughtful even, and when you talked to him, he made you feel like the only person in the room. Slowly, you found yourself opening up, and soon, you began looking forward to your time with him.

Your friends noticed the change. They teased you about the time you were spending with James, but they could see you were happy. You were falling for him, even though you had tried to keep your heart guarded.

What you didn’t realize was that James was falling too. Somewhere along the way, the dare had stopped being about a challenge, and it had become about you. The warmth of your smile, the way you listened to him, the gentle kindness you always showed—James found himself craving more time with you. Even Sirius, Remus, and Peter had come to adore you. You were, after all, impossible not to love.

One late afternoon, you decided to surprise James at the library, where you knew he often went to meet Remus. As you approached the table where they were sitting, you overheard their conversation.

“Mate, how long are you going to keep this up?” Remus asked, his voice tense. “It’s not fair to her. You’re playing with her feelings.”

Your heart froze. Her?

James shifted uncomfortably. “I—It wasn’t supposed to go this far.”

Sirius chuckled lightly. “Come on, Prongs. You’re doing her a favor. She’s having the time of her life.”

You took a step closer, straining to hear, feeling a knot form in your chest.

“But I didn’t mean for it to—” James started, but Sirius interrupted.

“You’ve done your job, mate. If it gets Lily jealous, then it’s all worth it, right?”

Your blood ran cold. The realization hit you like a wave crashing over rocks. The time spent with James, the laughter, the shared moments—it was all a lie. A dare.

You couldn’t breathe. Everything between you and James had been fake. He had never cared. He had only been using you to make someone else jealous.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you stood there, frozen. You didn’t even realize James had spotted you until his voice cracked through the air.

“Y/N…”

You shook your head, your vision blurring with tears. The betrayal cut deeper than you could have imagined. You took a step back as James stood up, his hand outstretched.

“Please, Y/N, let me explain—”

But you couldn’t bear to hear it. You turned on your heel and fled, leaving James calling your name behind you.

James stood in the library, watching you leave, a sinking feeling in his chest. He wanted to chase after you, to explain, but how could he? The truth was out now, and he knew it. He had hurt you in the worst possible way.

For the first time in a long while, James Potter didn’t have the right words. He had lost you, and it was his own fault.

Sirius, Remus, and Peter sat in silence, the gravity of what had just happened settling heavily around them.

Remus sighed, his voice soft but firm. “I told you. You were playing with her heart.”

James slumped back into his chair, guilt gnawing at him. He didn’t care about the dare anymore. He didn’t care about making Lily jealous. All he cared about was the girl who had just walked out of his life—the girl he had fallen for without realizing it.

[ewyuzu]

cold distance

toji fushiguro x reader

warning: contains emotional conflict and themes of abandonment.

you sit at the edge of the bed, your fingers nervously tracing the hem of your shirt as you wait for toji to come back. the apartment feels colder when he’s not around, the silence heavy and unsettling. you hear the front door creak open, and your heart skips a beat. but instead of relief, all you feel is a knot tightening in your chest. he’s been gone for days—no call, no text, no sign of life.

he strolls in, as casual as ever, tossing his jacket onto the couch without so much as a glance in your direction. his hair is slightly dishevelled, and there’s a faint bruise on his jaw, but he acts like nothing’s wrong, like this is normal.

“you’re late again,” you say quietly, not wanting your voice to shake, but the frustration is hard to hide.

toji barely spares you a glance, his tone dismissive. “got caught up. not a big deal.”

you swallow hard, feeling the familiar anger rise up inside you. it’s always like this—he comes back late, no explanation, and expects you to just accept it. for once, you can’t. “it is a big deal,” you snap, standing up, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. “you disappear for days, and i have no idea if you’re even alive. and when you finally show up, you act like nothing happened.”

he arches a brow, his expression indifferent. “i told you before, this is how it is. if you can’t handle it, maybe you’re not cut out for this.”

his words sting more than you want to admit, but you can’t let him brush you off like that. “it’s not just about handling it, toji. you make everything else your priority—your jobs, your survival, even your past. but what about us? what about me?” your voice is trembling now, but you push through, needing him to understand.

he lets out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his dark hair. “i’ve told you from the start, i’m not the kind of guy who sits around and plays house. this is what i do. it’s how i survive.”

“and what about your son?” the words leave your mouth before you can stop them, and you immediately see his expression change. his eyes darken, and his posture stiffens. you know you’ve hit a nerve, but you can’t stop now. “you don’t just push me aside, you push everyone away. including him. don’t you even care about him?”

toji’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. the tension between you both thickens, the air heavy with unspoken words. when he finally speaks, his voice is low and controlled, but there’s an edge to it. “that’s none of your business.”

“it is my business,” you insist, taking a step closer, your heart pounding in your chest. “he’s your son, toji. and you act like he doesn’t even exist. how can you just ignore that?”

his eyes flash with something—anger, maybe, or guilt—but he doesn’t let it show. instead, he scoffs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “you don’t know anything about it. about me, or him. so stop acting like you do.”

“then tell me,” you plead, your voice softer now, more desperate. “tell me why you’re so distant, why you shut everyone out. why you act like you don’t care.”

toji’s gaze hardens, and for a moment, you think he’s going to walk away, like he always does when things get too real. but instead, he steps closer, his presence looming over you. “i care about what i need to survive. that’s it. if you’re expecting more than that, you’re wasting your time.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut. you can feel your chest tighten, your breath catching in your throat. you’ve known from the start that toji isn’t the type to open up easily, but hearing him say it so bluntly, so coldly, feels like a slap in the face.

“so that’s it?” you ask quietly, blinking back the sting of tears. “everything else comes second, including me?”

toji doesn’t answer right away. instead, he looks at you, really looks at you for the first time since he walked in. there’s something in his eyes—something raw, something he’s trying to bury deep. but it’s fleeting, gone in an instant as he shrugs. “i’ve never promised you anything different.”

your heart sinks, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a heavy stone. you don’t know what you expected—maybe some kind of reassurance, some sign that he does care, that you mean something to him. but all you’re left with is this cold, hard truth.

“i can’t keep doing this,” you say softly, almost to yourself. “i can’t keep waiting around, hoping you’ll change. i deserve more than that.”

toji’s jaw clenches, and for a split second, you think you see a flicker of something—regret, maybe, or hesitation. but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared. he doesn’t try to stop you as you turn away, walking towards the door, your chest heavy with the weight of your decision.

just as your hand reaches the doorknob, his voice breaks the silence. “you don’t need me. you’ll be fine.”

you pause, your heart aching at the sound of his voice, at the emptiness in his words. you want to turn around, to see if he’s really as detached as he sounds. but you don’t. instead, you nod, even though he can’t see it, and open the door.

“maybe it’s you who needs to realise that,” you whisper, stepping out into the cold night, leaving him behind.

[f1-unpopularopinions]

Okay this is a rant

Fans project onto the drivers waaaaaay too much. They push their own emotions, personalities, and points of view on whichever driver is their favorite and try to force everything they say and do to fit that. It’s why there is so much Lando and Oscar hate right now. The fans are desperate for those two to be what they want them to be, usually soft uwu boys. And the minute they deviated away from it, especially Lando, everyone labeled them as evil or arrogant. I’m not even a Lando or Oscar fan and I can see that.

Famously all drivers are extremely competitive, willing to do whatever it takes, think theyre the best, and are assholes on the track. You can’t be in f1 without those traits. But so many fans refuse to admit that and the minute it becomes clear that this is the truth and not whatever fantasy they created, they freak. It’s beyond ridiculous. You should not be a fan of f1 if you can’t handle this. Cause yes, the drivers will say rude things, they will be arrogant about their skills, they will be bitchy about team orders, they will get pissy when they lose, they will usually not get along with their teammate, they will snipe at each other in the press, they will push too hard and hit each other on track and then claim it wasn’t their fault. That’s what happens. That’s fucking f1.

I’ve watched this sport get slowly santitized as the years go on, as new fans come in and decide the things they don’t like must be changed. It’s ridiculous. So now all teammates have to be best friends. So now team orders are evil. So now a driver being upset they didn’t win in ungrateful. So now a team is heartless for cutting an underperforming driver loose. So now all the drivers must be perfectly behaved little princes who are always happy, and grateful, and kind. I cannot imagine how frustrating and demeaning that is for them. I would rip out my own hair if people treated me like that. But no, if a driver expressed frustration with this I can almost guarantee fans would call them spoiled or ungrateful.

And on top of that all they have to contain, you have cameras shoved in their faces wherever they go. Any video you find of a driver, and their are at least five cameras not even a foot away from them. And people scream in their face, and grab them, and expect them to give them time because theyre a fan. Every movement is scrutinized, their facial expression and body language are over analyzed, people make assumptions about their relationships and lives, and they can’t say boo about it. It’s been like this to a smaller extent for years of course but it’s just exploded since honestly DTS. If I had 30 people shoving merch at me screaming my name, I signed it, and then some asshole on the internet made a whole video about how I wasn’t pleasant enough when I was getting mobbed and treated like a commodity I would explode.

I guess to finish off this super long take, I just want to say that f1 drivers will never be what you want them to be. So either fix your expectations and let them be human or stop fucking watching.

Send us your unpopular F1 opinions!

[munsonsmixtapes]

Put it on My Tab

bouncer!!logan x bartender!fem!reader

summary: You’re a bartender at the club where Logan is a bouncer and he’s going to deny his feelings for you until he’s convinced himself that he’s lost his chance.

cw: hurt/comfort

“Do you really think you can get away with this?” Logan asked the girl who was standing in front of him. She clearly wasn’t of age and the photo on the fake she had handed him hadn’t even resembled her. And the cherry on top that was that “Minnesota” was missing one of the n’s.

“And do you really expect me to believe that you were born in 1988? You don’t even look like you could have been born in 1998. I can’t let you in, kid.” He could see that the girl was crying and to the untrained eye, she definitely could have been. But Logan had been in the business long enough to know that she was just trying to garner sympathy, which never worked on him. Crying, if anything, just made the man feel uncomfortable. 

“You’re such a dick,” she cried as she watched him bend the ID right before her eyes. It wouldn’t be the first time he was called that and it certainly wouldn’t have been the last. 

The ID was tossed into the trash can right next to him and he waved the next person forward as the girl slowly moved out of the way, making her sobs louder and more pathetic as a way to get him to change his mind, but he wouldn’t. He never did. 

“You’re good,” he told the man as he glanced over his ID before handing it back. The job got monotonous, but it was definitely better than being Wolverine, as far as how easy it was. And it definitely wasn’t stressful unless there was a fight he needed to break up, but security usually handled it before he got there. 

He actually loved his job, if he was being honest, but that was really only because of you. The second he laid eyes on you, he was convinced that he was in love. Maybe. He didn’t know what love felt like, but all he knew was that he liked you. A lot. Even though he was going to convince himself that he didn’t. He tried to be mean to you to make you leave him alone, but that only made you want to see him more. And let’s be honest, as soon as you flashed him that megawatt smile, he was done for. His legs felt like jelly and he couldn’t help but smile back even though it felt very foreign. 

And as soon as you told him he had a pretty one, he was smiling all the time for you, just begging for you to say it again, and you did. If it wasn't that, you were calling him nicknames which would have usually angered him, but since they were coming from your lips, he hardly minded.

The night seemed to drag on as he counted down the minutes until he could have a drink at the bar, just you and him as everyone else had gone home. You had insisted on staying, giving him a drink in exchange for a ride home that he always gladly gave you once the alcohol was out of his system.

He smiled as he saw that his glass of whiskey was sitting on the bar, but you were nowhere to be found. He supposed that maybe you were in the back, neatening up the space. But when he went to check the back room, his heart sank as he saw you giggling with Brett, the bar back.

He had seen the two of you doing that exact thing on multiple occasions and it made him sick, angry even. Even though he didn’t feel like he had a right to be because the two of you were just friends. And perhaps that was what he was convincing himself that he was to you. Even though he wanted to be more. Even though he often fantasized about kissing you right in front of Brett to show him what was what. And on some occasions, he imagined bending you over the bar and having his way with you. Pounding into you, making you tell him who exactly it was who owned your cunt.

“Oh, hey, handsome,” you greeted with that smile that always drove him crazy and he couldn’t help but mimic your actions. Because the truth was that he couldn’t be mad at you if he tried. You somehow had broken down his walls brick by brick and had even managed to thaw his frozen heart.

“Hi,” he replied, trying his best to not let his literal claws come out, trying to keep his cool and do those breathing exercises that you had worked on with him.

“Hey, Leonard, was it?” Brett asked, averting his gaze to Logan and the man was close to rocking his shit, you could see it.

“It’s Logan,” you corrected. “I’m all good here, Brett, if you want to head out.”

“Okay, cool,” he nodded and clapped you on the back before weaving his way through the maze of boxes, moving quickly past Logan and fleeing the room, leaving the two of you alone.

You stared him, covering your lips with the tips of your fingers in an attempt to hold back the laugh that was threatening to escape your throat. And Logan was not having it. The night was long and he was just ready to go home, his whiskey that he so desperately wanted, getting watered down by the second.

You stepped forward, pushing the boxes out of the way, moving to stand on front of him. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and you gave him a warm smile only for him to turn away from you, his signature scowl making its way back upon his face.

Without a word, you grabbed hold of his chin and forced him to look you in the eyes, still trying to hold that smile, desperate to see his own, the one that was specifically for you.

“Smile for me,” you commanded, your voice still soft. He showed you his teeth, but there was no actual smile. “Logan,” you giggled. “Just for me? Please?”

He smiled then, showing you his teeth and you felt your heart swell, knowing that you were the only person who could make him do it. And your heart leapt as you saw it slowly appearing on his face, pulling him into a hug.

“I’m not with Brett, by the way,” you changed the subject rather quickly. “He’s just a friend. More like a brother actually.”

"What?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowing and you desperately wanted to smooth them out, to find a way to help his mind stop from reeling.

"I'm not with Brett," you repeated, closing the space between the two of you, reaching up to move a piece of hair that had fallen to his forehead, putting it back in place.

“You say that as if it’s supposed to mean somethin’” he muttered, his signature frown making a reappearance.

“I thought it did," you shrugged. "Because if looks could kill, he’d definitely be dead.”

He just glared at you and you smiled again, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck while his stayed by your side. His hands were itching to hold you and he was trying to fight it off, trying to convince himself that he wasn't so desperately, hopelessly in love with you.

"And it should mean something to you." Your finger poked his chest and he just stared back at you, clearly missing the point of what you were trying to get at.

"Why?" His head tilted to the side like a little puppy and you just sighed, wondered why he wasn't understanding what you were trying to say. Wasn't it obvious? Maybe you were being too vague, but you were sure that you had said everything you could to get your point across except the actual words.

"Because," you rolled your eyes. "Look at the facts, Logan. We both know I get a lot of people asking to take me home every night and I let the grumpy bouncer drive me home. What does that say to you?"

"That you aren't looking for anything." You let out a sigh of frustration and shook your head, making Logan even more nervous. What was it that you needed to tell him and why did you need to say it in the back room of your place of work?

"Oh geez, I guess I'm going to have to spell it out for you, aren't I?" You chuckled nervously and Logan felt his heart pound in his chest as it all finally clicked in his head. Your hands rested on his cheeks and you looked into pretty hazel eyes.

"Logan, I'm in love with you," you said, watching his his widen, his mouth falling open as the six words set in. He just stared at you in response and you were beginning to take that as rejection.

Your arms slipped from his neck and seeing the look on your face was enough to break his heart into a million little pieces. And as he watched you make you way your way out of the back room, he could have sworn that he could see you wiping tears away from your cheeks.

You were leaving. You were leaving and he was just going to let you. You were quickly slipping through his fingers as the seconds passed and he felt sick to his stomach thinking about the possibility of losing you.

So he ran. He ran as fast as he possibly could, following you out to the parking lot where you were heading to your car that you had actually driven there for once. You stopped to pull your keys out of your purse and Logan took the chance to stand in front of you, stopping you from moving.

"Get out of my way," you commanded, but he just stood there, staring you down.

"No," he said firmly. "Not until I'm done speaking. And then you can keep hating me, but I need to get this out, okay?" He took a deep breath before speaking again. "I'm in love with you," he said. "I'm so in love with you that it hurts. I've never felt this way about anyone and honestly didn't think that you reciprocated my feelings, so when you told me that you loved me, I don't know...I just panicked." He was talking a mile a minute and you honestly barely understood him, ut you got the jist.

"So please don't leave," he pleaded his hands finding your waist. "Stay, because I don't know what I'd do with myself if you left."

"You love me?"

"More than you'll ever know, doll," he replied and pulled you into a kiss, neither of you bothered by the loud sound of your keys and purse falling to ground as your arms found their way to his neck once again. "Now let's get out of here."

"But what about the whiskey," you asked against his lips and he just chuckled.

"Just put it on my tab," he replied before pulling you in for another kiss.

You stayed like that until the early morning, kissing and giggling to each other, sitting on the hood of your car to watch the sunset together then heading back to your place for some much needed sleep before talking about how you were going to move forward over coffee and breakfast.

[monkee-mobile]

(apologies anyone who sees this for lamenting into the void again)

Keep Off My Grass got taken off of the internet archive and this is officially my destructive arc because that movie is preserved NOWHERE

no dvd release

no NOTHING

is it just me alone with my screen recordings of Twila my beloved and a few youtube videos?

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[lemonlover1110]

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲

Toji Fushiguro

Summary: Megumi is insanely jealous of the new addition to the household.

Warnings: Fluff, Jealous!Megumi

*Didn't have anything bigger for Toji for father's day but I had to celebrate it one way or another sfjosjf. Enjoy my lovelies!

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“Papa, up!” Megumi yells, hoping to get his father’s attention when he sees Toji holding the new addition to the family. Megumi has reached the age where he claims to be independent, after all, four is such a big age. He’d cry if you or Toji held him, but he’s changed his mind.

“Your baby sister is crying, give me a minute.” Toji sounds annoyed, knowing that Megumi does it out of jealousy. Jealous of a baby that can’t even hold her own head, kids are so dumb. Megumi lets out a cry before yelling again,

“Papa, up!” He wants attention now. He doesn’t want to wait until Toji is done with some stinky baby. Toji lets out an exasperated sigh as tears begin to stream down Megumi’s face– Crocodile tears, but tears nonetheless. He extends his arms and opens and closes his tiny fists repeatedly, yelling, “Up!”

“Megumi, you don’t want to wake up mommy, do you?” Toji asks, trying his best to calm down the crying baby in his arms while also handling Megumi. Toji goes unheard as Megumi begins to cry his little heart out. 

Toji takes a deep breath, trying to remain collected in this situation. Megumi is only four and getting adjusted to the presence of his little sister. Toji decides that it’s best to walk away, going to the kitchen to get the baby’s bottle and deal with her first since Megumi’s issue isn’t easily resolved. 

“Papa!” Megumi yells, following around Toji as he gets a bottle in the baby’s mouth. 

“Megumi, wait for me in the living room.” Toji says, but Megumi isn’t listening. Daddy isn’t like mommy, whatever mommy says goes but when Toji speaks he goes ignored; Toji’s is far scarier and intimidating than you are, he doesn’t understand why Megumi doesn’t take him seriously. “Megumi, go away!”

“I’m running away!” Megumi stomps his little feet before finally leaving Toji to deal with the baby. Toji breathes in relief, his pesky little bug finally giving him a moment alone. He’s able to go to the living room and sit down comfortably as he finishes feeding his daughter. 

“He’ll come around, princess. He hasn’t witnessed just how cute you are.” Toji coos, as if the baby can understand or care. She finishes her bottle, and Toji burps her before setting her down in her crib. He usually chooses to hold her whenever he can, but right now he has bigger fish to fry.

Toji walks into Megumi’s room, watching how his son tries to fit his most valuable toys into a backpack. Toji is trying his best to not chuckle, knowing that Megumi is deeply hurt. Toji takes a seat on Megumi’s tiny bed, clearing his throat before asking, “Need help packing?”

“You hate me!” Megumi cries, and Toji rolls his eyes. Was he that dramatic when he was Megumi’s age? “Mommy and you don’t love me anymore.”

“Oh c’mon, why do you say that, urchin?” Toji tries to see the little guy’s point of view before attempting to comfort him. The last thing Toji needs is attempting to explain to you why Megumi is packing up all his toys– You leave him alone with the kids for a two hour nap and Megumi’s already moving out. 

“You only care for the new baby.” Megumi angrily muffles, and Toji could’ve guessed as much. 

“C’mere, baby. Let me carry you now.” Toji opens his arms for Megumi, and Megumi glares at his father. He wipes away his tears before deciding that he does want to be carried by his father, after all, the tantrum is simply because of this. Toji picks him up, setting him down on his lap before kissing his forehead. “Is this why you’ve been so sensitive? Because of the new baby?”

“Yeah…” Megumi pouts, and it takes everything in Toji to not laugh.

“I will tell you something but don’t tell mommy, okay?” Toji begins, almost whispering to Megumi. Megumi’s eyes perk up, and Toji is fighting back a smirk. “We… Don’t like the new baby that much. I mean, we just met her. But you, urchin? You’re our favorite.”

“Really?” Megumi’s voice is full of hope, and Toji prays that this means Megumi will stop being so jealous about his baby sister. Toji doesn’t hesitate before nodding. It reminds Megumi that he doesn’t like being held anymore, which makes him get off Toji’s lap.

“Will you behave around her, now?” Toji asks, and Megumi takes a moment to think about it.

“Can we sell her?” Megumi responds, which makes Toji’s jaw drop. Did his cute little urchin seriously just say that?

“Okay, new rule: you’re not allowed near her room.” Toji stands up from the tiny bed, his knees cracking. He leans down and kisses the top of Megumi’s head, “Now unpack all of your toys before mommy wakes up.”

[teamred]

after midnight

✩‌ logan howlett/wolverine x mutant!reader | smut | 1.8k

SUMMARY | logan hates that you never listen to him and you can't stand how he still treats you like a kid. but tonight's your chance to change each other's minds.

WARNINGS | smut, breastplay, oral s*x (male receiving), piv s*x, power dynamics

RATING | explicit

NOTES | this is more dialogue and tension than smut, but i hope y'all still enjoy!

The X-Mansion at night is eerily quiet, a peaceful respite compared to the bustling energy during the day with the swarm of students walking around. Despite the stillness, some nights, like tonight, make sleep hard to come by. 

You carefully tread down the stairs, through the halls, and towards the communal kitchen to grab a drink. 

With the flick of your hand, you open the fridge, its bright light illuminating you amidst the darkness, and glance at what’s available.

Times like these, you wish there was something stronger than soda available, but you settle on a bottle of ginger ale and levitate it towards your hand. You will the fridge to close behind you as you make your way to a high stool by the kitchen island.  

“Shouldn't be walkin’ around in that outfit, bub.” 

Startled, you whip your body around, clutching the bottle to your chest and holding your hand out, an instinctive fighting stance. You relax at the sight of him leaning against the doorframe. 

“Jesus Christ, Logan…” you exhale, shaking your head.

He turns on the low lights above the kitchen counters. His hair is tousled from sleep, and his usual scowl is plastered on his face.

Your eyes sweep over his sleep wear—a simple fitted white tee and grey sweats. Then you glance down at yourself—black booty shorts and a loose crop top. Sure, what you wear to bed is a little risqué, but it’s comfortable. 

“What are you—my dad?” you shoot back, sipping your drink and leaning against the counter.

Logan rolls his eyes, crossing the room to grab a Dr. Pepper from the fridge.

“You should put on a robe or somethin’,” he grumbles. “The kids could see you.” 

He reaches to untwist the cap, but you beat him to it, using your powers to unscrew it with a swish of your fingers. The cap clatters onto the island, a bit louder than you intended. 

“You know, kids aren’t exactly wandering around the mansion at 3AM,” you mutter.

He downs half the bottle in one go and you can’t help it, but you’re enticed by how his Adam’s apple bobs with each gulp. Your eyes sweep over him again, noticing how the shirt stretches perfectly over his body and the outline of his length underneath his sweats.

Logan may be an asshole, but at least he’s an attractive asshole.

When he finishes, he tilts the bottle towards you with a sneer. 

“Yeah? Look who's talking.”

In a flash, you swipe his drink into your hand and shove him against the edge of the counter. He stumbles, almost falling to the floor, and snarls a curse.  

Your nostrils flare as you close the distance between you, fists clenched. “When are you gonna take me seriously, Logan? I’m about to become a professor soon.”

He stands up straight, towering over you and matching your intensity.

He grits out, “When you finally start listenin’ to me.”

You scoff, the bitterness rising in your chest. “Oh, so that's what this is all about.” 

You shake your head, finding it all too familiar. Coincidentally, this was why you couldn’t sleep tonight. 

Logan jabs a finger towards you. “You never listen to a goddamn thing I say during training, always throwin’ yourself into the danger and I’m the one always pullin’ you out.” 

“It's just the Danger Room!” you whisper-shout back, not wanting to wake others. “And you do the same shit all the time, Mr. Hypocrite.”

“Because I can handle the risk."

“And what? I can't?” 

“Don't get cocky with me."

You step closer, merely inches away from his face, and raise a brow, meeting his glare with a defiant smirk. 

“What are you gonna do, Logan? Bend me over your knee and teach me a lesson?”

The words are meant to taunt, to push his buttons, but they come out with an edge you didn’t expect. 

Something daring.

Something that challenges Logan. 

His gaze darkens, and the room fills with a charged silence. His breathing turns heavy, his eyes fixed on you like he’s ready to pounce. 

“I just might.” 

The tension snaps. 

You’re unsure who moves first, but it doesn’t matter because you’re on each other, the kiss raw, messy, and all-consuming.

It’s a clash of hunger and fury. Lips crashing, teeth nearly clashing. His hands seize your bare thighs hard. Likewise, your nails dig into his muscled arms and shoulders. His groan turns into a guttural growl at the bite of your touch. 

Effortlessly, he hoists you up, and you wrap your legs around him before he sets you down onto the cold tiled countertop. His hand snakes its way up your shirt, calloused fingers finding your nipples, rolling and pinching them ruthlessly.

One gasp escapes you, then another as he thrusts his thigh between your legs; the friction is delicious against your aching core. 

“Tell me you'll listen to me,” he rasps the demand, his mouth now sucking and biting down your neck. 

Initially, you shake your head, but he twists your nipple hard, dragging a sharp moan from your throat.

“Yes,” you moan. 

“Yes, who?”

“Yes, Logan,” you seethe, detesting how weak you are under his touch, but you can’t control yourself. 

He chuckles irritatingly, brushing your neck upwards with the tip of his nose, until he presses his mouth against your ear. “You gonna do as I say?”

You nod. A desperate whine escapes your lips as he presses his thigh harder into you. Your body’s inflamed, craving more than just this from him. 

“Then get on your knees,” he commands. “Show me what you got.”

As if under possession, you jump off the counter and fall to your knees as Logan switches spots with you. He drops his sweatpants towards his ankles and holds his cock in front of you, stroking it. 

You almost salivate at the sight. Not that you’ve ever imagined fucking Logan, but it’s unsurprising how long and thick it is. 

You start off with chaste kisses and darts of your tongue. A touch here and there to torment him. Minutes pass, and when he's had enough, he's about to say something until you suddenly take him in as much as you can.

You channel all your desire and frustration onto him in the form of crude pleasure to prove yourself.

Your tongue swirls. Licks up the precum leaking from his slit. Mouth sucks on his tip so hard, Logan's gripping your head roughly, groaning a plea for you to slow down. You disobey and relax your throat, allowing him to hit the back of your throat.

He practically has to rip you away to avoid an early end to all of this. His mouth is back on yours again with his drenched cock pressed up against your thigh.

Logan leads you to be on the counter once again. Impatiently, or perhaps it's laziness, his fingers deftly drag the fabric of your shorts and underwear towards one side to prepare for his entry.  

And he doesn't even ease into it, knowing how wet you are from just a whiff of the air.

He's not gentle, and you don't want him to be. You yearn for each deep thrust, letting his fullness fill you to the brim.

“Is this what you wanted?" he growls. "Me fucking some sense into you?” 

“If that’s what it takes to prove to you I’m not a fucking kid anymore, then—fuck—yes…” 

He answers every moan you make with a deeper plunge. However, the moans rise to cries. Logan puts a hand over your mouth, drowning them out.

In turn, the suppression of it only accelerates your climax and somehow draws out your powers. Utensils shake, along with the cupboards. 

“Sweetheart,” he warns with a low chuckle, still keeping a steady pace, “you’re gonna wake everybody up.”

“Don’t care,” you say, words muffled behind his hand. “Just keep fucking me. Don’t stop, don’t stop—” 

Everything shakes in unison with your body’s trembling. You whimper Logan’s name, eyes fluttering, until you come undone around his length. 

The kitchen slows its shaking as you come down from your high, and he pulls out, jolting his thick release onto your inner thigh with a sharp moan. 

Both of you are still, listening for any sign of footsteps or voices of anyone that is coming to investigate the noises. But the mansion is still quiet as a mouse, save for your rigorous panting and the hum of the fridge. 

Logan draws his pants back up and reaches for the paper towels. He holds them out in your direction, and, without ever touching it, you rip one off, wipe away the mess, and toss it into the garbage. 

Jumping off the counter, you adjust your clothes, but not much is needed since nothing ever came off. 

“So,” he says after catching his breath, reaching for his Dr. Pepper behind you. His body presses slightly against you, the warmth of his body radiating onto yours. “You gonna listen to me from now on?” 

“That depends.” You drag your ginger ale towards you with a tilt of your head. In sync, you chug your drinks. “Are you gonna treat me like an adult from now on?” 

“I’ll try, kid,” he says, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You shove him playfully at the label and he chuckles. “Sorry, it’s outta habit.” 

“But seriously,” he continues, his expression hardening into his usual tough one. “You know that I only say those things to look out for you.” 

That catches you off-guard. You search his eyes, revelling in the sincerity of his words. 

“I know, Logan,” you smile and nod. Leaning in, you kiss him tenderly on his cheek and begin to walk away. “Try to get some sleep.” 

When you’re about to leave, he calls out your name softly, causing you to turn around. 

“If you ever have another sleepless night, come find me.” He closes the distance and pins you down with an intense stare and a smug arch of his eyebrow. “I still have to properly teach you a lesson over my knee, y’know.” 

“Is that so?” you challenge. “Even after everything that happened tonight?” 

“Tonight was just a preview,” he whispers. He lifts his hand to palm your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin. “I need to keep you in check so you won’t forget.”

You're drawn to him, wanting to close the gap with a kiss.

But you decide against it, not wanting to let him win this round.

“I’ll think about it."

Turning on your heel, you saunter away. His eyes track every move, every sway of your hips in those tight shorts, drinking in the sight of you until you disappear from view. 

Despite your tentativeness, Logan’s determined he’ll have another taste of you soon enough. 

[fastandcarlos]

Dangerous Game : ̗̀➛ Oscar Piastri

summary: losing your independence whilst pregnant was tough, but when you try and be a little bit dangerous, oscar is far from impressed to see you do so

Panic struck you as soon as you heard the front door open, dropping the paintbrush down onto the floor as your feet scrambled to get you down the ladder that you were up. As Oscar called out through the house you shouted back, placing the lid back on the paint pot and hiding the brush underneath one of the cardboard boxes in the room.

As your eyes darted around you kept finding things to hide, moving bits around the room as the sound of Oscar’s footsteps got louder and louder towards the room.  

Just as the door handle was pushed down, you sat yourself down on the rocking chair that was in the corner of the room, leaning back with a smile on your face as Oscar walked in with his suitcase just behind him. 

“I didn’t think I’d find you in here,” he remarked, glancing around the room. 

It had been a couple of weeks since Oscar had been home but straight away his eyes narrowed as he looked around the room. Something wasn’t quite sitting right with him, taking a good look around the room as he remembered how things were when he left a short time ago. 

“It looks different in here,” Oscar commented, noticing your eyes looking a little more nervously at him then they usually did. “Have you made a few changes?” 

Your head nodded as you forced a smile onto your face, “I’ve just been doing the odd little bit here and there, trying to make life easier for you so there was less to do when you got back.” 

Oscar nodded too as you spoke, walking further into the room. Your heart began to race as his eyes narrowed on something, walking over and picking up the paintbrush that you had tried your best to hide, quickly noticing that it was still covered in paint, as was the ladder where droplets had fallen. 

“Please tell me you’ve not been up a ladder painting this nursery,” Oscar asked you, although he already knew the answer, unable to quite believe what you had been up to. 

Oscar had left you under the promise that you would do everything possible to keep yourself as safe as you could without him there. He was reluctant to go, but he trusted you. The worried part of you couldn’t keep that promise though, conscious of how much you had left to do and how little time you had before your baby arrived. 

“What if you’d have fallen from the ladder Y/N? Are you actually out of your mind?” 

Your body tensed up at the harsh tone in Oscar’s voice. “No, I’m not. I’m fed up of being treated like I’m unable to do anything though, I was only a couple of steps up and I was completely in control of what I was doing Oscar.” 

“Anything could have happened Y/N.” 

It didn’t exactly seem like the most dangerous job in the world to you, but to Oscar, it was almost as if you were tempting fate. He was happy for you to do a few jobs around the nursery, but the hardworking jobs, like painting and building, he wanted to do to make sure that you didn’t run the risk of injuring yourself. 

Oscar dropped the paintbrush back down, brushing his hands through his hair as he tried his best to stay calm. There was an anger in him that you hadn’t seen for a long time, taking you by complete surprise. 

“I’m not joking when I tell you not to do these things,” Oscar spoke, turning back to face you again. “It’s hard enough leaving you at the best of times, but especially so when you’re pregnant, and even more so when I know you’re not being safe.” 

“Surely I’m the one who decides when I’m being safe and not safe,” you argued. “Every time you say you’ll do something, something else comes along, we can’t keep doing that forever Oscar.” 

Painting the nursery was one of those things that Oscar had insisted that he would do for quite some time, but nothing ever materialised. It was either work, or family, or the time when he came home and fell asleep instead because he was so tired, but Oscar seemed unbothered that time was running out. 

“We’re supposed to do these things together, as parents,” Oscar calmly reminded you. 

“We can, but you’re never here.” 

“I’m here right now,” he huffed, throwing his arms down by his sides. “I know that I’m busy, and trust me, I wish that I wasn’t, but the thought of something happening to you absolutely terrifies me love.” 

A soft sigh came from you, “I didn’t realise that you were this worried about me.” 

Oscar took a step towards you, taking a hold of both of your hands. “Every second I’m worrying about you, nervous when the phone goes that it’ll be someone to tell me that something has happened to you.” 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered as Oscar gave your hands a squeeze. “I guess I’m quite calm right now, I just assumed that you would be feeling the same.” 

To Oscar, you were far too calm for his liking, he couldn’t believe how you just took pregnancy in your stride like it was nothing huge. He watched you carry on as if nothing was changing, with your big smile constantly still on your face. 

He was well aware that you wanted very little to change, you still wanted to be you, to be independent, and to be organised, even if he didn’t want you to be. Oscar wanted to step up though, your pregnancy was a chance for him to take control and take care of you, despite your protests. 

“The only person going up that ladder for the next three months is me,” Oscar told you, “but I still want you to be involved and doing things as well.”  

You nodded at Oscar’s suggestion, although you knew the ladder was pretty harmless, before you drove Oscar insane, you knew not going up it anymore was the best decision. 

“We’ll get this done, together,” Oscar assured you. 

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

“How about we make a start tonight?” He proposed. “Let’s order some food and plan out the jobs that we need to get done. I’ll get up the ladder and we can bring one of the chairs in from the dining room so that you can sit down and paint the lower parts of the walls. Does that sound like a plan?” 

Your smile turned up as soon as Oscar started speaking. “That sounds like the perfect way to spend tonight. You don’t have to do all of this though Oscar, the baby isn’t going to be arriving tomorrow.” 

“I’ve not done enough so far, I’ve got plenty of making up to do for all the jobs I’ve neglected,” he assured you. 

Your hands slipped out of his and wrapped around Oscar’s neck. “I’m sorry for breaking your trust whilst you were away, I promise it won’t happen again.” 

“Don’t be sorry, I get it. We’ve just got very different definitions of what safe activities are for pregnant women to do,” he couldn’t help but joke. 

“I only did it because I was bored without you around.” 

Oscar questionably glanced back at you, “I know for a fact you’d have been up that ladder anyway, but I’ll pretend to believe you. I love you, just promise you’ll take care of you, of both of you, for me.” 

“I promise that we’re both safe, and healthy, and we will continue to be too,” you smiled, pressing a kiss against Oscar’s lips. “Welcome home by the way.” 

“It seems like I got home just in time.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[peachesofteal]

I blame @alwaysshallow but-

Simon Riley’s back is fucked. That’s an understatement. Between work and the weight he’s carrying around, his spine weeps at night when he goes to lay down. Twisting and crouching and crawling only increase the strain, the twinges between muscle and bone blooming into a full grown ache. Those threadbare shit mattresses they always seem to find, awful. By the time he gets back to base, he’s already been popping paracetamol from morning to night, his jaw so tight he’s got a permanent headache.

Physio is a necessity. When he was a younger man it was easier to blow the whole thing off, swallow it down with too many glasses of bourbon, but now if he doesn’t go within a day or two after landing back at base, he’s miserable.

However, there’s a problem.

It’s you.

Simon’s not really sure about you. Sweet as a lolly, but incredibly jumpy, your hands shake before you really get started, carefully tracing over his back, feeling for knots and strains.

“H-hi Lieutenant Riley.” He grunts his acknowledgment, stripping off his shirt and assuming the position across the table, face down, arms to his sides. “Okay, straight to it, I guess.” He should say something, but doesn’t. He doesn’t mind letting you wallow in your discomfort. If he’s being truthful with himself, he enjoys your nerves.

Your fingers are deft, pinpointed pressure alleviating the agony splintered across his back. You’re polite as a nun, letting him know where you’re going beforehand, giving him time to prepare to feel your touch.

“I’m going to try to adjust this tension in your lower back now.”

“I’m going to press on the sciatic nerve.”

“You’ll feel my palms on your shoulders.”

It’s kind of you, considerate, even though every time you step away from the table he catches the anxious look on your face, brows knitted together, lip tucked between your teeth.

At the end of his session today, you swallow and start babbling, hopeful look on your face. “Hey, I’ve just learned these new massage techniques, by the way. I’ve been practicing and was wondering if you’d be interested? Really should loosen up the last of these muscles. I’m pretty new at it, but was hoping-“

“No.” He snaps, and your face falls for a second before you catch it, and nod.

“Sure, of course. Sorry Lieutenant Riley.” You step away, professional smile back in its place, and gesture to his shirt. “I’ll just let you…” He sits up, fully, but your eyes don’t stray. “Alright, well, see you next time.”

The next time he’s in to visit you, you’re not outside your office to greet him as usual. He frowns, not enjoying the change in your routine, forcing him to knock on your door and wait for an answer.

When someone else answers the door, something weird happens to his stomach, some sort of phantom pain, and his skin starts to itch.

“Who are you?” He barks, and the man narrows his eyes.

“I’m filling in, your usual therapist is out today.”

“Out? Out where?”

“They didn’t say.” Where the fuck are you? He turns on his heel, striding out of medical, ignoring the questions lobbed at his back.

“Lieutenant Riley?” You’re trembling in your doorway, fingers wrapped around the door handle. “W-what are you doing here?”

“You weren’t at therapy.” You’re just standing there, confused.

“I… I know. I’m not feelin’ well.” An unbearable drum starts beating in his chest, so loud it throbs in his ears.

“Step aside.”

“Wha-“ you’re cut off as he brushes by, hooking an arm around your waist and dragging you along by his hip. Herding. Instinct. “What’re you doing?!”

“Hush.” The door shuts behind him, the finality of the click deafening. “Need someone to take care of you, don’t ya? Can’t seem to do it yourself.” Your mouth drops open, and he smiles to himself.

“Lieutenant, that’s… thank you, but I’m fine, really.” His hands rest on your shoulders.

“Don’t think so pet.”

[joemama-2]

aged up megumi

“you’re drunk.”

megumi’s head lifts up at the sudden sound of your voice. it’s funny how quick the action is too, like your voice immediately pulls his chin up as it speaks. even in a crowded room full of people who he doesn’t know and doesn’t want to know, he’ll find your voice. he always finds you. but right now, he’s not in a crowded room.

the night sky is pretty and the breeze causes you to shiver slightly. he should be shivering too considering he’s not even wearing a jacket, but maybe his senses are too wacky to even care. or maybe he’s just too focused on your presence. he’s sitting on some steps to whatever house, a stranger’s that he decided to rest on after his so called ‘friends’ left him there.

yuuji and nobara didn’t actually leave him. they just took his drunk ass out the car, whike simultaneously texting you his location. and like the good friend (?) you are, you went. no questions asked. what you didn’t expect was to see megumi shitfaced. that was not on your bingo card.

back to the present, the small flush of his cheeks and hazy eyes make you want to physically coo at the sight. instead, you tilt your hair and raise a suspecting eyebrow at his prolonged silence. you hold back a scoff, usually it’s him being the serious one.

megumi lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “you’re here.”

you sigh. biting your lip for a second as you assess the situation. “i thought you were with yuuji and nobara.”

“i was.”

“then where are they?”

he simply shrugs. “they left. left me here.” he sees your confused expression, muttering—more like mumbling—a continued response. “told me to sit and wait. didn’t know i was waiting for you.”

ah. you’ll remember to scold those two later on. “i didn’t know i was coming to you either.”

there’s a small huff that escapes his pretty lips. “guess we’re both surprised.”

there’s a silence that follows. you want to sigh heavily, why he was drunk in the first place almost concerned you. megumi was always sober, always the DD, what was different about tonight that he decided to change that? never mind, you’re more focused on getting him back to the dorms.

your eyes travel back to him after looking up at the sky during your mental battle, but he’s still looking at you. he hasn’t stopped looking since you came, actually. his staring has always sorta freaked you out, made you feel naked even with clothes on. “thought you were on a date.”

you grimace at the reminder, but quickly push it away. you were on a date, but that’s the last thing you want to think about right now. “i was.” you settle with a vague answer. of course, he’ll pry.

“then why aren’t you there?”

“i left.”

“why?”

“for you, apparently.”

megumi’s heart really shouldn’t be doing somersaults right now. but he can’t help it. he knows it’s wrong, you’re just friends and friends don’t feel this way about each other. he hasn’t told you anything and he probably never will. hell, you probably don’t even feel the same way. and megumi is not going to handle your rejection well, which is why is he’ll forever admire from a distance.

but with each day, that distance seems to be growing smaller and smaller.

“how much did you drink?” your question interrupts him.

he debates on telling you the truth or a lie. but just as much as megumi stares, you observe. so, megumi can never,—no—will never lie to you. “few shots.”

“how many?” you prod, taking a small step closer.

“forgot.”

of course. if he forgot how much he drank, it must’ve been a lot. and megumi drinking is one thing, but him drinking a lot is another. now you’re even more concerned. with a small huff of air, you finally stand in front of him.

his head angled upwards to look at you while yours is down. his fingers twitch to reach out for you, but he somehow is holding back. well, he was holding back. for barely two seconds.

he can blame it on the alcohol later, his actions can have consequences for a future, sober him. right now he’s too focused on the way your fingers feel laced with his own, your smaller hand in his. you’re a little shocked by his boldness, but you don’t pull away.

maybe you should, because now megumi is getting ideas. ideas that you want him just as much as he wants you—

“are you okay?” your soft voice is laced with worry, eyebrows knitted together. your fingers just slightly tighten around his.

and he gulps down the lump in his throat. why he has one in the first place is a mystery to him. for a second, he feels like he can’t speak. when his voice finds him, it sounds different. “yeah.”

by the slurring of his words, you conclude it’s time to take him home. “cmon, let’s get you back.” your face scrunches up as you attempt to lift him up from the stairs. even in dry knees, megumi is helping you out, using as much strength he currently has to bring his body to a standing.

once he’s on his own two feet, you place one of his arms around your shoulders and walk to your car. it’s a small, but silent walk. there’s a bit of a challenge, having to balance him but also open the passenger side door.

“watch your head.” you murmur and he hums back as you place him down into the passenger seat, reaching over to buckle his belt.

your scent invades his nostrils and he suddenly feels the urge to cry. god, he’s never drinking again. once he’s buckled up, you pull back to get a better look at him.

you don’t like seeing him in such a state. a disheveled one. he looks small, vulnerable. the sight alone pulls at your heartstrings. “megumi?”

“hm?” his eyes are half-lidded, but he still finds it in him to meet your own. “i won’t throw up.”

there’s a breathy chuckle from you while you wipe some hair out of his eyes. “i know.”

he leans into your touch. your hand lingers longer than it should, savoring his skin against yours while he wishes this could last forever.

it doesn’t, of course. because you’re soon pulling away, closing the door, and getting into the car yourself.

the drive is once again quiet. you spare him a few glances along the way to make sure he’s still conscious. in the new few minutes, you’re at the school and parked.

you feel like you lost a few calories just from hauling him out the car and back to his dorm. over time, he’s leaned more of his weight on you, but you can’t chastise him for that.

his door is already unlocked as you twist the knob and it’s a great relief when you finally situate him in his bed. you sigh heavily and wipe a bead of sweat from your forehead. “i’ll get some water and a trash can, okay?”

“said ‘m not throwin’ up.”

“you don’t know that.”

you grab one of the bottled waters from his mini fridge you gifted him for christmas and the trash from his bathroom, placing it by the bed. “drink.” he groans as you lift his head up and gently coax the water into his mouth. once done, he’s laying back down.

sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him, you finally ask the burning question. “what happened tonight?”

he’s hesitating, you can tell. but of course, megumi can’t lie to you. so he looks at you again, deciding that maybe it’s okay if he comes clean. if this ruins your friendship, he’ll always be grateful for what you showed him. “you.”

your brows furrow. “what?”

he sighs. “you. where you were tonight.”

oh, it’s starting to click. “you mean my da—“

“don’t even say the word.” his hand soothes the pinch of his eyebrows. “it’ll make me sick.”

now, you want to laugh. really laugh. but you’ll hold back for now. “i thought you weren’t gonna be sick?”

“i am if i have to think about you and another guy.”

“he was a nobody.” your lips purse, confused as to why you’re even reassuring him in the first place.

“keep it that way.” his hand pulls away to give you a firm look. well, as firm as a drunk person could give.

strange butterflies flutter in your stomach and now you might be sick. “..why?”

there’s another pause before he says with finality. “cause…you have me.”

you have him. in what way? you want to ask, but he’s drunk and this is…more than likely a conversation you should be having when both parties are sober. so, you opt for a soft sigh. “i have you?”

“and i have you.” megumi murmurs back, his beautiful lashes beginning to flutter as the signs of exhaustion take over.

you smile, and so does he. although, it’s not as obvious as yours, you’re observant. so that smile means everything to you. he means everything to you. which is why…..

“go to sleep.” you whisper, bringing the covers up to his chin. “we’ll talk in the morning.”

[lovebugism]

#20 from the jealousy, jealousy prompt list with steve pls 🫶🏼

steve doesn't realize he's in love with you until he gets a glimpse of you with someone else (fwb to lovers, fluff, 1.2k)

Steve Harrington spent the entire summer thinking he was the only one who thought your Scoops Ahoy uniform was way hotter than should be allowed. 

The thigh-high socks. The short skirt. The pretty ascot tied around your neck. It was a diabolical concoction. And, yeah, sure, the sailor theme was an acquired taste, but Steve has always been a firm believer that you could wear anything and make him fall to his knees. He’d worship you like a goddess in a goddamn parka, he’s that far gone for you.

The only problem is he thought he was the only one.

He loved you so much that everything else just became white noise. There was never any room for anyone else to love you ‘cause he adored you the most. Or he thought so, at least — until a pretty boy with circle glasses and a chiseled jawline talked you up at the front counter. For ten fucking minutes straight.

He watches the stranger cross the threshold of Scoops, with a sundae in his hand and a dumb smile on his stupid face. “Who was the guy?” Steve blurts from the opened partition the second he’s gone. He folds his golden arms over the countertop, biceps threatening to burst from the navy sleeves of his uniform.

“A friend,” you answer casually as you sort change in the register.

His fluffy brows pinch then relax a moment later. He pouts at the vague response because he can’t handle not knowing. “Seems like you two are real close,” he lilts, trying hopelessly to play it cool.

“We are, actually,” you tell him. You drop the remaining quarters into their designated section and flash him a pretty look over your shoulder. “I’ve known him since I was a teenager— sophomore year, I think?”

Steve nods slowly, feigning interest. “Ah. High school sweethearts, then?”

You slide the opened register closed with your hip. It clunks shut behind you as you spin around to face him. You walk the short distance to the back counter, skirt swishing around your thighs as you go. Steve tries hard not to pull away when you lean in towards him, choosing to bask in your unwavering stare and intoxicating perfume instead.

“You should watch what you say, Harrington,” you caution lowly. “I’m gonna start to think you’re jealous.”

He scoffs. “I am not jealous.”

“No?”

“No! No way,” he answers, too quickly to be convincing. “We’re— We said we were gonna do the whole unlabelled thing, so… That’s what we’re doing.”

You nod once. “Great,” you hum with a tightlipped smile, spinning away once more.

The door to the breakroom squeaks open a moment later. Steve lingers in the entryway, shifting on his feet like a nervous child in a sailor’s uniform. Crossing his arms over his chest, he peers at you through his lashes. 

“But it wouldn’t be, like, the worst thing in the world if I said I wanted to be the only one who, you know, looks into your eyes, and… holds your hands, and… hears you laugh…” he wonders lowly, scrunching the bridge of his nose. “Right?”

You don’t realize how big you’re smiling when you look back at him. “No,” you shrug, all cool despite your skipping heart. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

“Good,” Steve grins.

The small of your back digs into the counter’s edge when you turn to face him. You meet his pretty face with a sheepish one. “But it does go against everything we talked about it.”

The boy shrugs. “Well, then, screw it,” he blurts. 

“What?”

“I take it back.”

You laugh before you mean to. The golden sound echoes through the empty store. “That quickly?”

“Hush,” he pouts.

“It took me talking to some guy — who might as well be a stranger to me now, by the way — to change your mind about wanting to date me?” you elaborate with narrowed eyes.

Steve cowers under your stare. “…Kinda. Yeah.”

“So, what?” you scoff. “We’re boyfriend-girlfriend now?”

“If you wanna be.”

You grin up at him while he approaches you, all slow like he’s stalking prey — only you don’t entirely mind being hunted. “Pretty soon, we’ll be playing house if we’re not careful,” you joke, smoothing your palms up his torso.

A crooked grin blossoms on his pink mouth at the thought. “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea, actually,” he mumbles lowly.

“Steve…” you huff.

He laughs and cradles your jaw between softly calloused palms. “What?” he hums as he ducks down to kiss you. Your lips lock in a fleeting kiss — an innocuous spearmint-strawberry-chapstick concoction.

You let him kiss you, but your pout never wavers. “You can’t just say something like that and expect me to move on,” you murmur.

“I like you?” he shrugs. “So what?”

“So what?” you parrot with a laugh. “We’re not kids anymore, you know? Relationships are pretty serious now, Steve.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

You meet his doe-eyed look with a sterner glare. “That’s the problem. That’s why we agreed to keep things lowkey. ‘Cause you can’t be serious about anything.”

“I can’t be serious about some things,” Steve insists with a boyish twist to his scruffy features. You arch your brow to egg him on. “Well, you, for starters— I haven’t even looked at anyone since I started seeing you, so… That’s gotta be a start, right?”

Your brows scrunch softly together. You don’t mean to look as shocked as you do, but you can’t help it. “You haven’t?”

“No,” he answers, chiseled features swirled like he’s tasted something sour. The thought never even crossed his mind despite distinctly keeping your relationship (or lack thereof, maybe) completely casual. “Have you?”

“No! I just… I thought that maybe you were, you know, keeping your options open or whatever.”

“So that means you’re not canoodling with Mister Jawline, right?” he jokes with a hopeful glint in his honeyed gaze.

You roll your eyes but decide to humor him anyway. “No, Steve,” you deadpan. 

He grins, prettier than should be allowed. “Good.”

You squint up at him. “Which means you’re not canoodling with Miss Redhead-Nice-Boobs, who comes in every week just to talk to you. Right?”

Steve’s brows furrow. His dark eyes flit between both of yours as he tries to figure out who exactly you’re referring to. “Who?” he wonders with a cartoonish lilt to his voice.

You’re pout deepens ‘cause you don’t know what he’s playing at. Her name’s Cherry — which you think is pretty easy to remember, considering her fiery auburn curls and ruby red lipstick. She’s tall and lean and effortlessly beautiful. Too pretty to be jealous of. You can’t help but admire her.

So Steve’s confusion is equally dumbfounding.

“You do like me, don’t you?” you murmur with a suspicious squint.

He laughs. “Does that surprise you?”

“A little bit. Yeah.”

His nose scrunches. “Still wanna be boyfriend-girlfriend with me, though?”

You purse your lips to the side and pretend to ponder the question “Sure,” you shrug after a few moments, rising to the tips of your toes to smack a quick kiss to his mouth. 

You greet a group of customers a second later, while Steve restocks the tubs of ice cream. Totally casual. Not at all lovesick.

Well… maybe a little.

[jiarkives]

Azriel meets his mate who is a no nonsense female and isn’t dealing with the IC busy body bullshit. And azriel loves it cause he wants to be able to have something that is just his

He loves his brothers but they don’t know how to butt out of things. But his mate puts her foot down and lays down the law.

I need someone to stand up for him and take care of him.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ summary — azriel’s mate does not take shit from anyone, not even the high lord.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ character — azriel (a court of thorns and roses)

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ content — fluff ; written with fem!reader in mind

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ notes — i loved the idea but i fear i didn’t write my thoughts well enough so i might rewrite this completely and i changed the plot a bit so yeah !! thank you for requesting !! 🤍

~

“Love? Where’d you go?” Your voice was soft and so was your touch as his eyes focused back on you. It was early in the morning and you were both still in bed, opting to spend your day lounging around to let him rest after his week-long mission with the Night Court’s general in Windhaven.

“It’s Rhys.” He sighed and you knew immediately what he wanted, your eyebrows furrowing as you sucked in a breath. “He needs my help with something regarding Autumn.”

“But you just got home last night,” you said. “Have you talked to him?”

“Yes, but—”

“Did he listen?”

“Well—”

That was all you needed to pull away from him and get off the bed, going straight into the bathroom.

“Wait, Dove.” He quickly followed after you, gently grabbing your wrist and turning you to face him. “It’s alright. It’s just a quick in and out. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“I know you can handle it, but just because you can doesn’t mean you have to, especially not this soon,” you said firmly, giving him no room for arguments.

And that was how you found yourself barging into the High Lord’s study after knocking briefly with Azriel trailing after you quietly, causing both him and the High Lady to look up at you with confusion written all over their faces.

“Good morning, High Lord, High Lady,” you greeted politely, looking at them as you addressed them. “I heard about you wanting to send Azriel to deal with the Autumn Court, but if you aren’t aware, he just got home last night.”

“We are well aware.”

Azriel sucked in a breath at Rhysand’s response, his eyes widening as he shook his head at his brother as he attempted to get you to back off with a gentle touch of his hand and his shadows.

“Then why are you sending him to another mission so soon?” You crossed your arms, looking at Rhysand with an eyebrow raised. The corner of Feyre’s lips twitched into a smirk as she witnessed the scene before her.

“Well—”

However, you did not give him a chance to respond as you cut him off, “Well, you better find someone else to do it for him because he will be resting at home with no interruptions.”

“You do remember that I am your High Lord, right?”

At this point, Azriel had given up completely and let you take the reins, while Feyre watched in amusement as you grilled his mate on his seat.

“Alright then, High Lord, find someone else to deal with your shit in Autumn and let my mate rest,” you said, your tone firm and stern as you practically glared at him, no room for any arguments.

Rhysand could only gape as his widened eyes flitted over to Azriel, then to you before quickly clearing his throat as he composed himself, “Alright.” He relented. “Azriel may take the whole week off and rest with you. Then, I get the Night Court’s Shadowsinger back.”

“Good,” was the only thing you said before giving Feyre a polite nod, staring at Rhysand for a moment longer, and finally leaving the room, leaving the two of them alone with a smirking Azriel who looked proud (and aroused).

Azriel was not even surprised when his shadows left him and followed his mate out of Rhysand’s study.

“Sorry, brother.” He shrugged. “What the missus says goes.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Rhysand nodded with a grin, waving him off. “You go home and rest, brother. I’ll see you in a week.”

Azriel grinned and bowed slightly in goodbye before moving to leave the room.

“Wait,” Feyre spoke and Azriel immediately stopped and turned to face his High Lady. “Please tell your mate I’d love to introduce her to Nesta. I have a feeling they’d get along well.”

“I will.” Azriel nodded.

“Leave, brother, the scent of your arousal is starting to flood the room.”

[sincerelyneo]

will you be reposting the jeno fic you had on your old blog? it was my fave 🥺

here it is <3

fireproof | l.jn

“‘cause no body saves me baby the way you do”

💿now playing: fireproof by one direction

❯ summary: Your brother Jaemin loves throwing parties when your parents aren’t home — but you hate it. In an attempt to escape the loud music and sweaty bodies you try and head out. But there’s no way your brother’s best friend, Jeno, is letting you wander around the streets so late.

❯ pairings: jeno x fem!reader

❯ genre: smut, brother’s best friend, college!au

❯ words: 8.4k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, masturbation, minor mentions of drug use, drinking, marking, slight protective brother jaemin, begging, spanking, mentions of marking, unprotected sex (don't do this!), oral sex (m/f receiving), fingering, reader uses she/her pronouns, jeno fucks his best friend’s little sister.

a/n: i changed the title hehehe

This party fucking sucks.

You’re not even drunk. The vodka is watered down, you're sure of it. Your friends ditched you about half an hour ago — disappearing with some of the guys they had been speaking to and seeing. 

"Come to the party with us, they said." You mimic to yourself into your plastic cup. "It'll be fun, they said." 

You scoff taking another swig but pull your face at the awful taste that lingers in your mouth. There are better things you could be doing on a Saturday night, you think. You’re almost positive you saw a new show released on Netflix today. Or better yet, you could be reading some sort of erotic novel that would spice up your Saturday night more than this shit.

But the thing is, this party is at your own fucking house.

Your brother is throwing it. 

Every time your parents go away for one weekend he can’t help but jump at the opportunity to trash the place. You don't see why he can't just have a few of the boys around, have some beers and then call it a night. But no, that isn't exactly Jaemin’s style. 

Of course, he has to invite a bunch of random weirdos that seem to be snorting cocaine off of every surface in this house, and smoking whatever kind of weed they could find. And sure, you’re not impartial to a good night but this... this is not your idea of a good night.

At all.

Sighing, you push through the masses of people, seeing the sweaty bodies that are dry humping one another or eating each other's faces off so much you feel like you’re going to throw up at the sight. 

Stopping in your tracks, you reach into the back pocket of your denim jeans to pull out your phone, seeing that it is half-past midnight. If you know Jaemin — and you did — this was only the beginning of the night. The party is definitely far from over.

Fuck sake.

You put your phone back in your pocket and continue to manoeuvre around the bodies in the hallway. Your stomach growls and you think about how you're drinking on an empty stomach. The only thing open at this time is a Mcdonald's but you don't necessarily want to be that person that sits in McDonald's by themselves on a Saturday night. 

Still, you head for your front door and try your luck at an escape. As you reach your hand out to grab the door handle you smash headfirst into a body. Well to be more specific a chest. A hard chest.

"Ow, fuck!" You lift your hand up, rubbing your forehead.

"Sorry little Na, didn't see you there." You immediately recognise that voice. The deep slowness in which he talks. It’s the only voice that has a straight hotline to your core. 

Yeah, you couldn't ever forget that voice.

You stop rubbing your head and slowly look up, following the lines of his muscled chest that you can see through the tight white t-shirt he's wearing with a pair of denim jeans and converse. Yes you had already checked him out tonight, but you’re only human. And when your eyes meet that sharp jawline, hollowed-out cheekbones and those damming brown eyes, you involuntarily clench your thighs together.

You shun yourself because you know you can’t have him. And that’s the reason why you hate him. 

He's your brother’s best friend.

Lee fucking Jeno.

The worst man on this planet. for many reasons like for one he’s insanely hot. Like too hot. Who on this planet even needs to be that hot? But to make it worse he knows he's hot. Girls are always flying off his arm fueling his ego. He's also selfish and arrogant. 

But the reason you hate him the most, the reason you despise him so much, and avoid him at all costs is because of the burning need — it's past being a want it's a fucking need — to just devour him. Every part of you screams out whenever he is in the same room. 

And you hate it.

You have zero control over your words and actions with him — and he knows it with how much you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of him over the years. Your cheeks tend to grow red without your permission, and oh does he love to point that out.

Ever since your brother brought him home in his first year of high school, they have been inseparable — and you’ve been madly in love.

Well, you’re not in love with the boy. You just, you know, want to rip his clothes off. And let him fuck the living daylights out of you.

"Aw, there they are." He distracts you from your thoughts. 

His eyes are burning straight through you. As if he can tell what you’re thinking, how you’re feeling. And right now, you have very infuriating dampness in your panties that wasn't there 30 seconds ago. 

"Those rosy cheeks, are they for me, little Na?" You swat his hand away as it attempts to reach up to caress your cheek or some stupid shit like that.

"Stop that Jeno!” You snap at him, getting angry is your default with him.

It the perfect remedy to keep him away from you, so you don't do something stupid like fuck your brother’s best friend

“Please just get out my way.” 

"Such a pleasant girl, aren't you?" He winks. 

He fucking winks, and your pussy screams in delight. If you were any other girl, you’d be swooning right now. You’d be on your knees begging for it. 

Well, you won't be on your  knees for him.

Ever.

Especially not tonight.

"Just get out of my way, Jeno,” you push him rather hard. 

You knew it wouldn't make him budge if he didn't want it too but he dramatically moved out of your way of the door. You yank it open and dart through onto the front lawn. Halfway down the driveway, a sharp tug on your arm spins you around and you’re  faced with Jeno... again.

"Fuck sake, what do you want?" You shake your arm out of his grip but he doesn't let go. 

You give up, huffing and dropping your shoulders. The two of you are just staring at each other, so much so that you didn't even realise how close you really were. Your chests are almost touching, there is a hair width between you. And due to your height, if you looked forwards you’d be looking at the bottom of his neck, right where you see him gulp before meeting your eyes again. They seem to burn into yours, suddenly growing intense. 

He is the first to look away but he doesn't just look away, no. You watch as his eyes flash down to your lips. Your breath hitches, he sees that and when he looks back to your eyes again, he flashes you a knowing smirk.

Motherfucker. 

"Come back inside." He says as he throws his head to the side, signalling to your house.

"No," you all but stomp your foot.

"You're such a fucking brat, you know that right?" He growls, closing that gap so that your chests touch. There’s an electricity running through you, begging for him. 

"I'm not a fucking brat, I just don't want to be here at this shitty party!” 

You don't break his eye contact, chests still touching. He can sure as hell feel each heavy breath you take and probably every beat of your heart that seems to have sped up since he moved closer.

"Just go inside, go to your room, anything. Just don't fucking leave, your brother would have my balls if I let you go out alone this late at night.” 

You roll your eyes at the mention of your brother. You love him, you really do, but hearing the word brother leaves Jeno’s lips reminds you exactly why he’s even here.

It’s not for you — it’s for Jaemin’s sake. 

"I don't see why either of you care, you've got plenty of booze and girls to keep you occupied to not even notice me gone,” you stand your ground, trying to tug your arm once again but he still won't let go.

However, he has loosened his grip so it isn't so harsh, but it's still locked around your wrist. In fact, you’re sure you feel him drawing little circles on the inner skin with his thumb and that thought alone has you squirming no matter how much you try to ignore it. 

"I think I'd always notice when you're not there," Jeno says under his breath, his face lowering to yours. 

If you didn't know better then you’d think he was about to kiss you. But that can't happen. Can it? 

Everything but your core is saying no. Your whole body is screaming to open up your mouth and say please. But you ignore it — you always do— and try to keep a brave face. But as he gets so close, too close, your eyes automatically flutter shut.

You expect his lips to graze yours but they don't, instead, you feel his cheek against you , only faintly, as his lips skim your ear lobe.

"I think I'd always notice when you're not there because there won't be some childish little brat moaning about not getting her own way." 

Your eyes shoot open as he pulls back, laughing at your flushing cheeks. Your eyes narrow as you finally tug your arm hard enough this time that he has no choice but to release you. 

"I do not moan about not getting my own way and I am not childish nor a brat,” you sneer at him. 

"Sure,-" he huffs, laughing, crossing his arms over his chest. "Whatever you say." 

"Why can’t you just go inside and leave me alone,” you cross your own arms over your chest. 

"No can do." He stands there like some sort of bouncer, you look to your right and see the path only a few steps away. He watches you and says a low, demanding, "Don't." 

But you do it. 

You spin on your heel and run for it. But you only make it two steps before two large arms are wrapped around your waist from behind and you’re being sprung back into a hard chest. Jeno’s one arm sits tightly around your waist, his fingers digging into your hip and you squirm against him. To stop your wriggling, his other hand flies up to grab a hold of your throat, tilting your head back to the rest of his shoulder. 

His eyes flash to his hand around your neck and he takes a deep breath that causes his eyes to flutter shut. Then you feel something growing behind you causing your own eyes to grow wide. He leans forward, lips skimming yours barely. 

“I said don't." It sounded more like a growl than anything and a small whimper escaped your lips. "Are you going to walk inside or am I going to have to carry you?" He whispers still close to your mouth. If you lifted your head slightly, you’d be kissing.

"I'm not going back inside." You sternly reply, he just laughs and his hold loosens on you. 

But he doesn’t free you. Instead he throws you clean over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. 

“Put. Me. Down. Jeno." You scream, hitting his back, but he doesn't listen. Carrying on heading back inside your house. 

Your cheeks are bright red and you stop your attack on Jeno’s back and decide to clench his shirt in your fists and hide your face in it.

"What's going on here?" You hear Jaemin’s voice and your head flies up.

"Your sister tried to escape," Jeno says laughing, bending down to lower you to the ground. 

When he stood back up, you were so close your bodies touched again, your breasts rubbed against his firm chest and your nipples stiffened. His eyes glanced down to them and they darken, then he looks to you again and grabs your shoulders, spinning you around to face your brother. You automatically lifted your arms up and over your breasts to cover the obvious arousal.

"Come on Y/N, you know you can't be walking around aimlessly at night." Jaemin chastises you.

"I'm not a child Jaem," you roll your eyes with a shake of your head.

"So what? Grown ass people still get kidnapped!” 

You groan, I'm going to my room." 

You push past him and head towards the stairs. You turn around seeing Jeno’s smug face knowing he’s got his own way about you coming back inside.

But you won’t give him the satisfaction. You’ll  just sneak out the window and have your perfect escape. He won't know. 

Not like he’ll come to check — right?

You spin on your heel as you hear the sound of footsteps following behind you. Jeno’s there, eyes locked on your ass until he sees you looking back down at him and then cocks his head to the side and smiles innocently. 

“What are you doing?” You spit. 

"Just making sure you actually do go to your room." He flashes his infamous eye smile that has plagued your dreams since you first met him. "And that your windows are locked. Don't want you running away now do we?" he winks at you.

He’s so irritating!

With a huff, you turn around and storm your way up the last couple of stairs, making sure your stomps are extra loud. You can just hear Jeno snickering behind you and that only rattles you even more. When you reach the landing you turn immediately and head to the last door of the hallway and pull it open, stepping inside of your bedroom. You go to slam the door shut but a sneaker covered foot stops in between preventing it.

You immediately roll your eyes and groan. 

"Leave me alone Jeno." You groan, leaning up against the door with your back, pushing it.

"Let me check your windows then I'll leave."

"What kind of request is that?” You sigh, running a hand through your hair. 

"Just let me."

"No."

The two of you enter a stare off — one you both know he’s going to win. And he does, because you don’t even let two whole minutes pass before you’re huffing out a “Fine.” 

He makes his way over to your window, making sure it's locked, then he chuckles, drawing your curtains too. The only thing lightening the room was your bedside lamp that you had an awful habit of leaving on. That, and it was the perfect deterrent to make it look like someone was in there, keeping strangers from having sex on your bed.

“All done?” You ask, breathy. 

He smirks, his eyes flashing to your lips again and you swear to god if he does that one more time you’re either going to kick him in the balls or jump on him and kiss him. 

You force yourself to take a step back and take a deep breath which makes him laugh.

"Well goodnight little Na, don't go sneaking out because I will know about it." He walks off to the door and before he exits you say,

"And how would you possibly know that?"

He looks over his shoulder, his eyes flash up and down your body, "I just will,” he winks then closes the door behind him.

You huff out and stomp your foot like a child. God you needed to grow a backbone and stop letting that idiot mess with you. 

Storming into your bathroom you slam the door shut. You strip off your clothes and turn on the shower. Whilst waiting for it to get up to temperature, you sigh. 

"Let me just lock your windows for ya." You pull a face copying him. "Want me to check that for ya?"

Once you’re done in the shower you climb out of it and dry yourself with a towel. 

"He's so fucking annoying ugh," you say to yourself as you pull the bathroom door open and saunter into your bedroom naked. 

You don't even check to see if anyone was in there, too busy ranting about him. And when you feel the cold draft of your bedroom it makes you realise you had just walked into your unlocked bedroom naked. Immediately, you covered your body remembering the party going on downstairs; but on first glance, it appeared no one was in there. Still you quickly grab your oversized grey t-shirt from the end of your bed, throwing it on over your head, but skipping your underwear. 

Your room was fairly simple with white furniture, a wooden floor, soft pink bedding, a few cuddly toys. The bed lies against the far wall, opposite the door and you leave your lamp on to have a little bit of light to help you sleep. 

Trying to fall asleep you flip over so your back faces the light. You try a few different sleep scenarios but everything keeps going back to Jeno.

And the way his hand gripped around your neck. 

You flip over again, keeping your eyes shut, yet, Jeno just waltzes into your mind continuously. Like he won't leave you alone. You feel so much anger coursing through your blood, yet you have this strange pulling into your core. 

You need to give attention to it — so you do. And as soon as you slip your hand under the covers, the fantasies start rolling in. Jeno’s arms around you, grabbing at your waist, your hips, your ass, your breasts.

Your breath hitches.

His tongue in your mouth, along your skin, tracing your neck and stomach, then between your folds lapping at you. Your eyes shoot open as you clench your thighs together and immediately feel the wetness.

It was just too much to ignore. This wasn’t going away. You already knew that. 

You just needed some relief and then you’ll be free for the night. Jeno never needs to know and it’s not like you haven’t done this exact same thing before over him. 

Your right hand finds your centre first, sliding between the folds and instantly feeling the slick wetness there. Slowly and sensually, you begin moving your fingers in a circular motion. Eyes closing instantly, flashes of Jeno now being played before you.

In your mind, it was no longer your hand but his. Rubbing your clit, sending shivers down your spine and causing a small panting moan to escape you. 

Your left hand begins clutching at the sheets and as you feel your nipples peak and rub against the soft material of your shirt, you have no choice but to swiftly move your hand up and under to take hold of your own breasts and squeeze. You moan again as you begin to work your fingers faster over your clit.

Now in your head, Jeno stood before you shirtless. Seeing the ripples in the muscles of his abs, he flexes his arms, making you grow weaker. But you always felt like this whenever you saw him shirtless at the pool, or the beach. 

And you couldn't deny how fucking sexy he was — you wouldn’t?”

"What’re you thinking about?" 

You pause instantly, back arched, orgasm growing close and eyes squeezed shut. You can't decipher whether that voice was in your head or in real life so you just grow still and relax, trying to pretend it didn’t happen. 

Your breathing which was already heavy, grows even more so, this time with panic and worry. You don't want to open your eyes, scared of what you might see because you recognised that voice.

At least, you’re really fucking hoping Jeno’s voice is all in your head, because you’re seconds away from orgasm.

"I asked you a question." 

Your eyes fly open. He’s definitely not in your head. 

Ripping your hand away from your clit, you pull the other away from your nipple and force yourself into a seated position with your hands splayed behind to hold you up. You scream on instinct, he doesn't so much as flinch as he stands at the end of your bed. 

His eyes are dark, head low and looking up at you through his lashes. He has that smirk on his face, and his hands are fidgeting, rolling his fingers against his palm. Your eyes roam his body as your scream continues and you wish you hadn't, only because your scream turned into a moan as you spied his hard erection pushing against his jeans.

You gasp and look back at his face. 

"What're you doing Jeno?" You whisper-shout, even though the party downstairs would make it difficult for anyone to hear you anyway. 

Still, you didn’t want any party goers walking in on a flustered you in bed with Jeno and his very large, very prominent erection, standing at the base. 

Fuck. It's so big. You can tell from how it's breaking at the seams of his jeans to be let free. Your mouth waters at the sheer thought of his dick — wondering what it looks like, how it feels in your hands, in your mouth — how it tastes. 

Fuck no. Absolutely not. 

You shake your head, trying to rid the thoughts and ignore the fact your core is pulsing right now, begging for one last touch so you can explode into orgasm. You really fucking needed it.

"I asked you what you were thinking about?" He says lowly, and it causes your breathing to still.

“H-how long have you been standing there?" You whimper. 

He shrugs, “That doesn't matter, what does matter is-" he moves his head up, looking you dead in the eyes as he cracks his neck and then his fists in each hand. "-What you were thinking about whilst touching yourself? Was it me?" 

He smirks again and you stood up, throwing the duvet off of your legs. 

"Not a chance," He says sternly. You look at him again, face paling. 

"What do you mean, no?" you ask, cocking your head.

"I mean don't you fucking move-" His tongue came out to lap at his bottom lip as his eyes moved down your body, down your legs. 

You instantly went to grab the duvet again but he grabbed it first, ripping it from the bed and throwing it across the room. You get down on all fours, crawling to try and get it before him. 

"Jeno!" You exclaim, reaching your hand out for it but it was too far away. You look up at him on all fours, and from this angle... God. You gulp. 

"Give me my cover."

You try to wash away every fantasy of being in this position before him but you can't ignore the way you need his hard cock, seeping at the tip and begging for you to lick it, to suck it. 

Stop. No. Not now.

His hand comes to the side of your face, pushing a piece of your hair behind your ear and you shiver at the touch. 

"Lie. Back. On. The. Bed." He commands.

Your eyes flutter shut for a moment and then slowly, you move to follow his command until you are back down on the bed. You keep your legs closed and hands on your stomach. 

You weren’t sure why you’re listening to him — obeying him . But something in you, some instinct is just screaming at you to let this play out, see what he wants.

"Touch yourself." He says and you blanch, your eyes growing wide and you sit up again, but one stern look from him has you lying back down again. "Touch yourself and tell me what you think of, how you feel, tell me everything Y/N."

Your name. He never bothers to call you that. Usually emphasising how you’re his best friend’s little sister with the nickname he’d given you. But honestly, you’re thankful for the nickname because hearing your actual name from his lips, all nasally and sensual, sends you spiralling. 

It makes you putty in his hands. And as for your hands? Well, they slowly spread your legs wide revealing your soaking wet cunt to him. You keep your eyes pierced on him, watching how his breath hitches, eyes glued to you. The way he automatically grabs his cock through his jeans and squeezes is like a reflex. Closing his eyes only briefly before they're back on you, on your core. 

You feel yourself growing red, the heat of embarrassment consuming you whole as you slide your hand down your stomach. As soon as your fingers make contact with your clit, your hips are bucking off of the bed and your back starts to curve. Building up your arousal doesn't take long. You were already half there, teetering on the edge. 

Except this time your eyes lock onto Jeno’s for real whilst your fingers are moving, soft moans leaving your lips. You spy his own hand on his cock, he hasn't pulled it free but he moves his hand back and forth over his shaft. You can see the way his arms tense as he moves and watches you.

You throw your head back with another moan. Seeing him stood there isn't enough, you need something more. You need him climbing on top of you, replacing your fingers with his. His hot breath against your neck as he rubs you harder and faster. 

"What are you thinking about?"

"You." You say breathily.

"What about me?"

Your eyes shoot open to stare at him, he looks tense and flustered. Just as bad as you. His hand stops moving on his cock and you make a mental note that he might've been close. Too close. And this might be over too soon.

"Your fingers on my clit, rubbing me," you throw your head back as the fantasy flashes again. 

"Yes, and what else?" He growls. 

"Your mouth." You breathe again.

"My mouth, huh?" He bites and your fantasy continues. 

"Yes. Everywhere." You cry out, orgasm seconds away. "Your mouth on me, about to- God, Jeno I'm gonna cum,” your back arches, hips bucking, fingers moving so fast and rough. 

"Look at me." Your eyes fly open at the command. "I want you to cum whilst looking at me."

And you do. The sheer dominance radiating off of him is the final straw that has you crashing down. 

Your orgasm rips through you as your hips lift so far off the bed. You moved your fingers through your orgasm, riding it out but finally, your hips fell back to the bed and you let out a heavy breath.

Before you could even open your eyes again, you felt two large arms wrap under your thighs gripping your hips, and suddenly you’re yanked to the end of the bed. Your eyes snap open, and your head lifts up as you spy Jeno on his knees at the end of the bed, his mouth centimetres from your dripping pussy.

"J-Jeno,” you mumble, just the sight of him has you moaning. 

You’re not sure if getting yourself off in front of him was the moment you both decided to cross the line; but now him manoeuvring between your legs, you knew you definitely had. Regardless, you know now you aren't ever going back to the dynamic you had before. 

"I’m gonna make those fantasies come to life baby.” 

He doesn't miss a beat. His tongue comes out and swipes a long lick up and through your folds. All common sense leaves your head as you fall back against the bed. 

"God, you taste so good. I fucking knew you would." 

He’s thought about this? You know you have. 

He repeats the motion again, this time focusing on your clit, making sure to run a smooth stripe along it, circling it only slightly, enough to have you wriggling. One of his hands splays over your stomach, holding your hips down. 

"I want you to cum on my tongue. I want to taste every drop of you,” you gulp, looking down at him between your thighs. You don't miss the dark pupils in his eyes and that daring look, the one telling you to follow his instructions. 

"Jeno, oh my god,” you cry out, your head flying back as his mouth attacks your clit. He sucks it in, flicking his tongue all over in a frenzied motion. 

You know he knows all the right ways to make a girl squirm. And you are fucking squirming. All over the fucking bed, you’d be breaking free from him if he didn't have his large veined hand holding your stomach down. Your stomach is now on show. Your t-shirt has risen up to just below your breasts and you see the way his eyes watch the movement as you move about, tits bouncing around.

And as if he can hear your thoughts he says,

"Take your top off." 

You do it without question, lifting the hem and throwing it over your head. Now you’re laying there completely naked. His hand that was on your stomach comes up and takes hold of one breast, instantly taking your nipple between his fingers and you hear him, no you feel him, moan into your pussy. 

The vibrations cause you to cry out, hands knuckling the bed sheets. 

"You're so fucking hot Y/N, God." He murmurs before attacking you again, his mouth working wonders.

And that tongue. You’re so close. You can feel it. 

Then you feel as he slides two fingers into you. Jeno curls his fingers inside of you, hitting some sort of sensitive spot, and as soon as his fingers massage that area inside you and his mouth returns to your clit, you explode.

You don't even know if the music downstairs would cover your screams as you fell into ecstasy. His hand on your breast doesn’t  move, but the one that had been hooked on your hip moves to splay against your stomach holding you down as he laps at you, riding you through your second orgasm until you couldn’t take it anymore. He pulls his fingers out, then his mouth away from you at just the right time.

You lay there spent. Completely. 

Eyes fluttering open. Jeno stood between your legs looking down at you. His cock looked painful in his jeans. You had once felt exhausted and ready to fall asleep but as soon as you saw his erection you shot up in your seat. You immediately fumble with his jeans until his hand comes to your jaw, pulling your head up to look into his eyes. He stares for a moment before blinking, taking a deep breath.

"You don't have to- I didn't do that for you to-"

"I want to. I want this." You nod eagerly,"I want you.” 

You lick your lips and it's as if something snaps in him, that moment of care vanishes and he lets go of your chin.

"Well then, suck my cock,” he says, standing there and you do as you’re told.

You unfasten his jeans, pull them down and then his underwear. His large erect cock springs free instantly and without a second thought you take hold of him in your hand. Your hands look tiny against his dick. 

You move your hand slowly up and down his cock, and notice how his thighs tense, then his stomach and you follow your eyes up until you meet his face. His head is hung low, eyes dark and hands clenched by his sides. Keeping your eyes on his, you lean forward and spy the precum, flicking your tongue out and taking it in to swallow down with a moan that makes him grunt. 

You moved so that your face was closer to his balls, then you stroked your tongue all along his length, and felt the way he flexed beneath your muscle. There’s a cocky smirk covering your face when you move back to the top and suck his tip into your mouth.

"Do you like sucking my cock?" He asks, his hand threading into your hair to start pulling on the roots to yank your head backwards. 

"Do you like it when I suck your cock, Jeno?" You flip the question with a smile the power in your hands. You continue working him and he flexes his hand in your hair.

"That's how you wanna play?" He grins at you.

You pretend to think for a moment, "I’m not playing anything." You move your head closer down his length, licking  another long stripe hearing how he curses under his breath and thrusts his hips towards you. "I just want to suck your cock." 

With that, you take him into your mouth, sliding down until you reach your limit. You can't take him whole, he’s way too big for that, but you take what you can. He coughs and splutters a bunch of inaudible words, but you just pull back up and repeat the motion, continuing to take him back into your throat. 

His hand stays threaded in your hair, keeping a rough hold so that you can't pull away — not that you wanted to.  

You love every second. Even as you feel him tensing, his hips moving as he thrusts into your mouth. You look up through your lashes to see his head thrown back as he moans out and hisses every so often when you drag your teeth along his cock. You can tell he likes it as the precum coats your tongue. That and the way he doesn't tell you to stop. 

"Do. That. Again."

And you do, watching his head fall forwards."Such a pretty sight, my cock filling your mouth. What do you think your brother would think about this?" he smirks and your face falls pale.

You almost stop sucking his dick but he doesn't let you, slamming his hips forwards so his cock hits the back of your throat.

Your brother.

Not a thought you want to think about right now but it is something you needed to consider. This was his best friend. You’d finally gotten the man so forbidden, always out of bounds. The whole time you didn’t know that he wanted you as much as you wanted him. 

You moan uncontrollably, and it must send vibrations along his cock as you feel it twitch in your mouth, his thrusts become sloppy and his grip on your hand grows tighter. 

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm gonna cum." He grits out. "Are you gonna let me cum in that pretty mouth of yours?" 

You look up at him. You can't speak so you try to nod. 

"God, you’ve always been the death of me," He thrusts several more times as you slide your tongue all over his length and tip. 

You do it a final time as you take him to the back of your throat, gliding your teeth along him which must've been his undoing as you felt the hot steaming cum splatter against the back of your throat. 

You pulled him out your mouth slowly. Even as he is softening he is still thick and large. You kitten lick the tip as he hisses, causing him to loosen his grip in your hair and you sit back, making sure to obviously gulp so he knows you swallowed every last drop of him. Leaning forwards, his hand comes to your chin and he moves his mouth so close to your you think he might kiss you but instead he says,

"Good girl." 

You hate the way those two words made you clench your thighs together. You thought the two orgasms were enough but no, you’re ready for more. You need more. 

He’s quick to remove his shirt, and as he lifts his arms his abs flex. You are point-blank gawking at him standing before you, making him smirk. 

That snaps you out of it. Remembering you are sitting here, soaking wet and naked before him. You crawl back on the bed and then realise you have no duvet so you have to pull your knees to your chest and cross your arms over your knees to cover yourself. 

He watches you, laughs and then shakes his head. He then moves, shoving off his jeans and underwear the rest of the way off until they both land on the floor.

"Wh-What are you doing?" You ask stuttering, thinking he should actually be getting dressed to leave.

"What do you think I'm doing?" he asks. 

Can't he ever just give you a simple answer? 

Then you notice how his cock has sprung to life again and his hand moves to touch it. Moving up and down the length as he cracks his neck.

"You're h-hard again?" You stutter, eyes glued to the impressive size of him. 

"I'm always hard for you baby." He winks and for once, it didn't make you want to punch him. 

"Jeno, we can't." You shake your head.

 You’re already way past the line. Sex would destroy the whole scale. Still, the idea of him, his cock inside of you, whispering filthy things in your ear... it isn't something you can ignore. 

"You want it." He says point blankly. 

You gulp and remain silent. He moves onto the bed, kneeling and then crawls towards you until he is over you. His hair has fallen over his eyes — so fucking hot. "I know you want it, why try to deny it?" He cocks his head to the side, smugly.

"I-I'm not." You fidget. 

“Yes, you are." He ducks his head low, burying it in your neck. You feel his warm breath and your heartbeat rackets so loud. "You don't want to want me to fuck you,” His teeth graze your neck, sending you into a panting mess as he sucks and bites. 

He then pulls away and laps at the mark you know is there, the one he put there as a reminder tomorrow when you come to your senses that you did this.

"So I’ll ask again. What do you want?" He looks down at you, plump pink lips swollen and wet from his constant licking and biting them. 

You’re going to let your brothers best friend fuck you. And you’re going to love every second of it.

Not wasting another moment longer to think, you grab hold of his neck and lift your head whilst pulling him to you to smash your lips together. There’s heat, fire, and explosions of electricity. 

Your hands claw at his neck, his back, his sides. Anything to pull him closer. His crotch, his hard cock, grinds against your soaking hole and you groan out whilst continuing to kiss him. Both so desperate for each other. His hands skim down your body, kneading your breasts, your hips. He grabs hold of anywhere and everywhere. 

His lips detach from yours, giving you a moment to see how swollen they are before they're attacking your neck. He peppers kisses along your jaw, not sweet kisses but hard and sloppy kisses. Sucking and biting the skin causing your back to arch into his chest, pushing your breasts against him, making him moan. He thrusts his hips forwards, his cock sliding between your folds, hitting against your clit making you quiver.

"Fuck, we really shouldn't be doing this." He continues kissing you down your neck, reaching your collar bones that he also decides to leave marks on. 

"Jeno please," you cry out. Both of his hands move to your hips to hold you still. 

"Please what baby?" He smirks before moving lower to take one of your nipples into his mouth.

"Fuck Jeno,” you cry out as he flicks his tongue over the bud, biting it harshly so you cry out again then soothing it with a soft warm suck.

"Please what baby?" He repeats. 

"Fuck me. Now!”

"And what about your brother?" he brings him up again and you roll your eyes. 

"Stop bringing him up," You moan as he takes your other nipple into his mouth, repeating the process.

"He'll kill us if he finds out." he grins.

"Then he can't find out," You pant out of breath as Jeno moves.

His face is so close to yours that your lips are only just touching, his chest is pushed against you and his cock sits lodged between your folds. You try to shift to gain some friction against your clit but his grip holds you still. His eyes flicker across your face then he says,

"I won't tell if you won't?" His lips caress yours in the faintest of movements. You flick your tongue out to wet your lips, but in the process he bites onto your muscle making you wince then moan, "What do you think, huh?” 

There’s no room for discussion — your body won’t let you. 

"I won't tell if you won't."

He doesn't miss a beat once he gets your approval. His lips are on yours as his hips thrust forwards. His cock thrusting inside of you, tearing you open as you pull your mouth away to cry out.

"Holy fuck."

He stills once inside you, making sure to push as far as possible until his pelvis meets your skin. Your legs wrap around his waist instantly.

"You feel so fucking good." He breaks from your kiss to breathe. "I always knew you would but this-" he looks down to where you are connected and he thrusts further, trying to get deeper but he can't possibly. "-this is better than anything I could've imagined." 

"Move, please." You grunt trying to lift your hips to encourage some movement. His eyes fly open, dark and daring. 

"Beg me." He smirks and does a tiny thrust, a teasing thrust.

"Fuck off,” you pant, trying to do it yourself but he uses his hips to pin you to the bed.

"Beg." He smiles and cocks his head to one side. "Me."

You hated his arrogance. But fuck, you want him so bad. So badly that you will beg.

"Please fuck me, Jeno." He pulls out of you and you suck in a deep breath.

"Again." He grins now. 

You can't bear to look at him but looking down means watching as he holds just the tip inside of me.

"Please. Fuck. Me." You pant, half moaning, begging for him. 

He thrusts so hard into you, you wince and moan out in pleasure. He hit so deep inside that you’re sure you’ll bruise.

"Anything for you, Y/N,” he whispers in your ear before sucking and biting on the lobe. 

Then he's pulling out and thrusting into you. Again. And again. And again. Harder and harder each time. Faster and faster. You lose your breath, becoming a big ball of pants and moans — just like  Jeno.

God, the sounds he makes. You’ve never heard someone so vocal before, but fuck it's hot. The small grunts he makes when he fucks you, the groans when you clench around his cock and feel yourself building. He moves his hands under your ass to lift it, plummeting into you from a new angle, going so much deeper.

"Your pussy is so tight. Fuck,” He says between thrusts, and gritted teeth. 

He seems to have found a weak spot right under your ear that has you clenching like mad around his cock. And he loves it. 

"How have you just been there in front of me this whole time? How have I stayed away from you?" He seems to be asking himself because he doesn’t press you for a reply. 

He removes his lips from your neck and sits back on his heels, his cock still inside of you, slowing his thrusts and he lifts your legs up, moving them over his shoulders. His head moves from side to side, placing a soft kiss on each ankle and for one second. You’re dumbfounded as he looks at you, a daring smirk written across his face. 

He wraps his arms around your thighs, locking your legs in a straight position against his chest on either side of his head, and then he begins pounding into you again. However this time, he moves one of his hands to your centre, his thumb moving closer to your clit. You feel how it grazes your nerves. He strums it once. Twice. Three times then you're wriggling around like a mess, back arching off as your orgasm tears through your body and you explode into euphoria. Again.

He rides you through it, fucking you as you clench and squeeze around him. A string of curse words come out of him, you feel him so close but he doesn't cum. He stops stroking your clit as you batted his hand away, you didn't realise you had been clenching the sheets with white knuckles until you relax your hands and feel a cramp in your palm.

Jeno slows his thrusts until he stills inside of you, his chest is moving up and down with each of his heavy breaths. You move your legs off of his shoulders, enjoying the movements as your legs feel strained too.

But as soon as your feet hit the bed, he grabs you and flips you so you land on your stomach. He pulls your hips up and slides into you again.

"Fuck!" You scream as he slams into you unapologetically. One hand holding your hip, the other trails along your back as he begins fucking you from behind. He leans over you, still ploughing, and comes closer to your ear.

"I always wanted to fuck you like this, you are always strutting around showing off, your ass? Do you like teasing me?" 

You don't even know what you like right now. Mind too focused on needed Jeno to fuck you any way he pleased. 

He grins, then shoves your head back down into the mattress, straightening his back and fucks you harder than you think you’ve ever have been before. You couldn't keep up with the movements, head a complete daze from all of the orgasms that he had given you.

You come to a conscious mind when a hard slap lands on your ass, it makes your pussy throb so he does it again, and again, rubbing over the area and soothing it before doing it again. Each time it makes you clench around him. 

"Jeno," you cry out between thrusts.

"Yeah, baby?" His voice sounded so much deeper, which told you he was close. That and the way his thrusts grew random and unstable.

"Want you to cum in me," You moan, clenching the sheets again. 

"I'm not wearing a condom," He grits through his teeth. 

"I'm on the pill,” you manage to say between heavy breaths. You needed him to cum in you now. 

He shakes his head, "Last thing I need is to get my best friend's little sister pregnant." And that was that because he thrust a few more times, then pulls out, and instantly, all over your ass and back you felt a hot liquid splatter about. 

As soon as his grip left your hip you fell straight down onto the mattress, and your body was thankful for it. Everything hurt. He'd destroyed you. Fucked you, well and truly. And you couldn't stop the smile on your face.

"I'll go get a cloth." He said through some heavy breaths then climbed off of the bed and went to your bathroom. He emerged a moment later, used the warm cloth to clean up his mess although you notice him take a minute to look at it.

"Admiring your work?" You asked him through a laugh, he looked at you and shook his head chuckling. 

"Trust me, if I could take a picture I would,” he wipes it away. Then he returned to the bathroom to throw the cloth in the hamper but as soon as he stood in the doorway of you heard three loud knocks on your bedroom door. 

"Y/N? You in there? Have you seen Jeno?" 

You shot up in bed, suddenly not tired or spent. Jeno’s eyes grew wide too.

You lifted your finger to your lips and gestured to Jeno to stay in the bathroom. He didn't hesitate as he shuts the door. 

Jaemin would fucking kill him and you, without a doubt. Only moments ago you had his best friend’s cum covering your ass. 

"One second," you shout,  jumping out of bed and grabbing your T-shirt. Then you rush over to the door, paint on your best sleeping face and yawn whilst opening it. 

"Oh, you were asleep?" Jaemin stood on the other side, hands braced on either side of the door frame.

You fake another yawn. He looks behind you and you turn too, fearful Jeno was standing there but then you spied your duvet cover on the other side of the room. Jamein frowned and looked back to you. 

"I was hot." You shrug. 

"Shit sorry," He quickly says. "I just can't find Jeno anywhere.” 

"He’s your friend not mine.”

"I don’t understand why you two hate each other," He rolls his eyes and you can't help but scoff at the irony. 

Hate wasn’t exactly the word you’d use for the guy that was just 8 inches deep inside of you. 

"Well, he's probably off getting high or fucking some girl.” 

“Better not be in our parent’s bed again,” he huffs, and your eyes go wide. “Fuck, he better not be doing it in my bed either,” he says to himself. 

And with that, he storms away heading for his room. Chuckling, you shut the door and Jeno emerges from the bathroom, a towel now wrapped around his waist and he stands there facing you. 

"That was close."

"Too close." You sigh. 

He dresses himself as you climb back in bed, getting your duvet back on and covering yourself with it. He walks over to the door and pulls it open, peeking outside to check the coast is clear, then once he does he turns to look over his shoulder at you.

"Our secret?" He says.

"Our secret." You nod and he steps out, not looking back and shuts the door.

You lie back on your bed, head falling into your pillows and laugh. 

But then you shake your head processing it all, moving your hand to cover your mouth, looking at the ceiling. 

You just fucked your brother’s best friend.

[eternally-racing]

baby steps | lando norris

pairing: lando norris x wife!reader (plus their adorable lil kiddo) 

genre: fluff

warnings: none 

word count: 2.5k

summary: Lando needs a little bit of encouragement to head off to his first race after the birth of your daughter, so what better thing to do than surprise him on race day?

note: this fic can be read as a stand alone or as part of the racer girl series !

---

When you first showed Lando the two lines on your positive pregnancy test, your entire world had changed. It felt like such a whirlwind of excitement, and before you knew it you were 9 months pregnant watching Lando’s races on television. It was pure luck that your water only broke the day after the season ended, which meant that Lando had a cherished couple of months with your baby girl, Piper, before heading back to racing. 

The two of them had become quite the dynamic duo in your household. From the moment that Lando first looked at your daughter, he knew that he was in love. He was an amazing father and you told him exactly that at every moment you could. It was one of the biggest fears that Lando had, being an absent father or not knowing what to do. Before you met Lando he was fully in his bachelor lifestyle, not once even thinking of kids, but now he was the biggest girl dad you’ve ever seen, giving into your daughter’s every whim. It’s exactly why Lando says he wants to give up racing all together once he sees your daughter cry for the first time when he leaves to go to the MTC for the first time since she was born - he would do anything for Piper, he would give up everything he loved if it meant that his little girl would be happy. Luckily, he had you to keep him grounded, and after more than a couple of tearful conversations you had helped Lando make peace with continuing on with his career with you and your daughter there to support him in the background. This was the first week that this was truly going to be tested though, since it was finally time for him to fly to Bahrain. 

“Say goodbye to daddy!” you say as you pick up your daughter’s hand to make her wave. 

You can see the way the wheels are turning in Lando’s head as he stays frozen in the entryway. He’s not forgetting anything, there’s no way he could with your packing lists that he’s used for every single race since you started dating. Even if he did forget something, he knows he could easily get someone from the team to either shop for him or send it over.

“Y/N I - , I don’t know anymore about this,” Lando mutters with his grip on the door handle loosening. 

“Lan, cmon now, I can’t have two babies in this house at once.” you joke as you pinch his cheek. “But seriously, you’re gonna be okay? Just do your best out there. I’m only a phone call away all the time if you need me. You’re going to be great and we’re cheering you on from here. I’ll send you all the pictures and videos and everything so it’ll feel like you’re still with us.”

While Piper can’t talk yet, she still reaches out to Lando to gently pat his shoulder - which only brings more tears to the forefront of Lando’s eyes. He always said his daughter was smart beyond her years, able to sense things even some adults don’t notice. 

“What if Piper can’t fall asleep without me reading her story? What if she learns how to walk before I’m gone? Or what if she forgets that I even exist?” 

“First off, I have memorized “the Rainbow Fish” perfectly from the 7 different times you taught me it. She’s not going to walk because she’s barely 8 months old. And lastly, she’s not going to forget you Lando, I promise you that. Do you trust me?” 

Lando doesn’t miss a beat when he says “always.” 

You hand your daughter off to Lando’s arms in exchange for the carry on that’s currently in his hands. You know that all he needs to do is hold her, to remember that feeling of being with her so he can keep that memory with him for the week ahead. You’re not the only one who’s noticed the way that Piper always immediately seems to calm down whenever she’s in her dad’s arms. There was something special between the two of them, something so unbreakable - which is exactly what you tell Lando. 

“Plus I think she’s in that phase where she’s starting to like you better, so I could use some alone time with our little bug” you tease as you squish your daughter’s cheeks. When Lando sees you cracking jokes it makes him feel a little more at ease - if you were so comfortable with this then why shouldn’t he be too? With one last hug and kiss, Lando finally walks out the door with a promise to facetime you once he gets to the airport. 

Piper starts crying the second she realizes that her dad is really gone, and honestly you shed a few tears too.

 “Don’t worry Pipes, we’re going to see daddy sooner than you think,” you whisper to your daughter as you try to soothe her. Little did Lando know that you had a bag packed in your bedroom for you and your daughter to surprise him at the paddock on race day.

—

The expectations were low for Lando in Bahrain, both from the media and from himself. He had been very upfront about having different priorities this summer than just racing, so he had been a write-off in so many people’s minds. That’s what made it even sweeter when Lando saw the checkered flag first in Bahrain, marking the very first time he had ever won at the circuit. It’s no secret that Lando had become more sensitive since he had become a dad, but when he says “This one is for my girls, I love you Y/N and Piper” over the radio, it brings tears to everyone’s eyes. 

Lando is already over the moon. He gives a big cheer to the roaring crowd before going to hug the rest of the team. It’s absolutely electric and it really seems like everyone, regardless of whether they are a McLaren fan or not, could appreciate how much this win meant to him. 

But the sweetest moment is when he spots you. You’re a little bit off to the side, a couple of security guards standing around you to make sure that nobody would try and trample over you and Piper. Little Piper is wearing a pair of noise canceling McLaren branded headphones on her ears as she hangs out happily in your arms. It’s like she spots her dad at the same time too, since she starts waving her arms in Lando’s direction. Lando immediately stops everything he’s doing to run over to you two. You have a knowing look in your eye, like you were just waiting for him to finally spot you both. 

“Oh my god, you’re here.”  Lando lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Having you both here makes him finally feel complete, like his heart was finally whole again. 

“There’s no way we were going to miss daddy’s first race of the season. Congratulations, babe” 

Lando has questions of course - how you managed to pull this off without him noticing, whether Piper gave you trouble on the plane, and so much more. For now, though, he just wants to spend time with you two. He almost forgets that he’s at the race entirely, let alone that he won it until a team member comes up behind him to ask him if he’s ready to do his interview 5 minutes from now. 

When Piper reaches over with her little grabby hands for Lando, you of course give into her whims as you pass her over to the sweaty driver. It also gives you a second to pull out your phone and capture the moment for yourself. Piper is playing with the visor on Lando’s helmet, learning a new form of peek a boo that you know that she’s going to want to keep playing when you get home. You’re the one who helps keep Lando on track, giving him one last kiss on his helmet before you tell him to head off towards the hoard of media personnel eagerly awaiting his appearance. When you go to take Piper back from him she refuses to budge, and with both Piper and Lando giving you their classic puppy dog eyes, you know you’re outnumbered. 

“Keep her safe, Lan, okay?” It’s a rhetorical question. You know that Lando wouldn’t let anything happen to her - but it’s still a big crowd, the biggest you’ve ever been since you gave birth, and it’s a little scary to not hold onto her here. 

You don’t think anyone has ever seen Will Buxton this happy as he pulls Lando aside for his post-race interview. 

“I have to say, congratulations on an absolutely brilliant drive from you today, Lando - and would you like to introduce the special guest you’ve brought with you?” Will asks with a grin. 

Lando can’t help the similar smile that is etched on his face as he looks at his little girl. “This is my daughter Piper, and she’s just the best thing that has ever happened to me. And I can’t share enough praise for my beautiful wife Y/N too - words can’t describe how much she means to me.I really wouldn’t be standing here in front of you today without her support.”  Lando looks back at you with a smile and kisses Piper on the cheek to end off his sentence, but Piper seems to be more interested in the texture of the mic than her dad at the moment. 

“What does it mean to you to have this be your first win as a father, Lando?” 

“Oh man, this little girl is everything to me - I just want to do my best on the track so that Piper can look back and always be proud to have me as her dad.” 

The moment is made extra sweet as Piper tosses and turns in Lando’s hold so that she can cling to him like a koala bear, pulling herself further into Lando’s chest. She is starting to like the microphone just as much as Lando, so she pulls her face right onto it before she says her very first word - “dada”.

At first Lando thinks he’s hallucinating - there’s so many people around and there’s so much noise that he can barely hear himself think. But then Piper says it again and he can’t help but start to cry.

“She -, she- called me dada, oh my god I can’t believe it,” Lando’s in pure disbelief as he stares in awe at his little girl and looks back at you watching in the crowd. For a minute he forgets that there’s a full corral of people watching him until he hears a collective “awww” from the crowd.  “Sorry it’s just -, wow, she’s never done that before.” he says sincerely as he wipes the tears from his cheeks.

It’s now Piper’s turn to cry as she gets overwhelmed with all the eyes that are staring at her, pushing the microphone away from her as she buries her head into Lando’s shoulder. She is just a little kid, after all. Lando wraps up the interview as fast as he can, apologizing as he whisks Piper away to try and lift her spirits. 

Luckily it’s time to head into the cooldown room, which proves to be the perfect place for Piper to calm down from her outburst. The antics continue there as Lando bounces Piper on her lap, pointing to the TV screen to show her all the highlights. 

“Look at daddy about to overtake uncle Charles! And there’s uncle Alex, and uncle George...” Lando continues to retell the story of the last two hours as the other two podium sitters, Max and Oscar, chime in intermittently. Sometimes Piper’s gaze falls to Lando’s new hat instead of the screen, but he’s happy to have her in the room with him to share this moment. 

You have to really bargain with Lando to get him to hand Piper back to you so he can head to the podium by himself - it’s only at the rational explanation of not wanting your baby covered in champagne that he finally gives in to reason. Piper loves seeing the celebrations on the podium, adding in some cheers of her own when she sees her dad jumping up and down with joy on the podium. The little girl is addicted to the shine of the Bahrain trophy in the sun and you and Lando both later joke that she likes the piece of metal better than the both of you combined. 

It’s no surprise that Piper falls asleep on the car ride home - you do the same next to her as the jet lag catches up to you both. Piper still keeps one hand firmly on the trophy, having barely let it out of her sight since Lando brought it to her. Lando can’t help but feel so lucky as he looks through the rearview mirror at the both of you. 

It never gets any easier - leaving. The next weekend Lando heads to the United States and Piper cries the whole day once she notices that he’s packing a suitcase. You’re honest with Lando when you tell him that you’ll see him once he gets back, there’s no way you and Piper would be able to handle all the time changes and long haul flights that would come with going to every race.

You still watch every race though, throwing sleep training to the wind as Piper often stays up at all odd hours to watch with you. There are so many moments where you wish that you could be there with Lando, especially with the season he’s having. As the journalists would say, Lando’s “dad powers” have brought him his best ever start to a Formula 1 season, as he has yet to finish outside the top 3 so far. 

“What do you think is going to happen when I don’t come home from a trip with one of those?” Lando jokes as he sees your daughter absolutely enamored with the newest addition to her trophy collection. It’s the Australian GP trophy, which proves to be the perfect vessel for Piper to put her cereal pieces into. The little girl has taken to yelling as her new favorite hobby, and she shows it off every time she squeals with joy when Lando walks through the door after a race.

“I don’t want to find out, so you’ll just have to keep getting podiums, Lan” you joke back as you lean your head onto his shoulder. 

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author's note: oh man, this has been sitting in my drafts FOREVER as i tried to perfect it but i really wanted to share it with you all. Thanks for all the love - asks are open if you want to say hello or make a request! Until next time! - Em 🤍

[insanechayne]

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