#it can be such a sinking and exhausting feeling

[ponderingmoonlight]

Hello!! If you’re still taking requests I’d love to see a Nanami x Reader fic where the reader is pregnant but doesn’t realize yet but I’d like showing OBVIOUS symptoms and for Nanami to start to catch on to them, I don’t know if that’s like weird? 😭 Also I hope you’re doing good!!

THIS. IS. EVERYTHING.

Yeah, we're doing this right now

Nanami realizing you're pregnant before you do

Pairing: Nanami x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,2k

Synopsis: well, basically the request above hehe

Warnings: I mean, reader is pregnant lol, fluff fluff fluff, Nanami is just the greenest flag I can't, please tell me you enjoy this as much as I do, I LOVE THAT MAN

Lately, everything feels… off.

It's subtle at first. Mornings are harder than they used to be, a strange kind of sluggishness that lingers in your limbs no matter how much coffee you drink after waking up. Your back aches at the most random times. And don't even get started on the nausea that strikes out of nowhere, leaving you clutching the bathroom sink with trembling hands.

But, still, it doesn’t cross your mind - not at first.

Nanami’s been noticing though. He’s always been perceptive, sharp in the way he observes the world, but lately, his focus seems to rest more on you. It starts with the small things: a subtle glance as you push your breakfast away with a grimace, the way his brow furrows when you wince, pressing a hand to your lower back. He doesn’t ask you about it immediately, and you’re grateful for that. Nanami doesn’t rush things, never has. He knows you well enough to wait until the right moment.

Today, however, something is different.

It’s a quiet Saturday morning. You’re both in the kitchen, sunlight streaming through the curtains in soft beams. Nanami’s making coffee, his movements precise as always, while you sit at the kitchen table with your hands wrapped around a cup of ginger tea. You’ve been craving that instead of coffee these days, the rich scent of the brew turning your stomach in a way it never used to. To be honest, you’ve never been a tea drinker your whole life.

He’s noticed that too.

You yawn, stifling the sound behind your hand as you stretch in your chair. There’s a strange heaviness in your body, and the thought of going back to bed, even after a full night’s sleep, is oddly tempting. It’s the third time this week that the idea of a nap has crossed your mind before noon. You blink hard, forcing your eyes to focus, and turn to Nanami, who’s watching you over the rim of his cup.

“Are you feeling alright?” he questions, his tone neutral but his eyes searching.

“Yeah, why?” you respond, but your voice lacks its usual energy.

Even to your own ears, it sounds tired. You clear your throat and offer a small smile, hoping to brush off the question as well as the wave of concern that starts bubbling up your chest all over again.

“I’ve just been a little out of it lately, that’s all.”

Nanami places his cup down on the counter, his gaze never leaving your face.

“You’ve been ‘a little out of it’ for a while now, darling.”

There’s a weight to his words, a quiet concern that has your defenses rising instinctively. You sit up straighter, forcing a more convincing smile this time.

“I’m fine, really. Just tired. It’s probably work.”

It’s true, to some extent. Work has been stressful, the usual demands piling up, but this exhaustion feels… different. It’s deeper, sinking into your bones in a way that no amount of rest seems to fix.

Nanami doesn’t say anything right away, but you can feel him assessing you. His silence is almost louder than words. You know he won’t push you to talk, but his patience, the way he waits for you to come to your own conclusion, can be just as insistent.

You sigh, leaning back in your chair and rubbing at your eyes. There’s no way you’ll get out of this situation, not when your beloved boyfriend sits opposite of you with his calm but demanding orbs staring straight through your soul.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m coming down with something?”

It’s a flimsy excuse, and you both know it. But before you can think of anything else to say, a wave of nausea hits you hard and fast, making you lurch forward. You press a hand to your mouth, eyes wide as the world tilts just slightly. Oh god, not again.

Nanami is at your side in an instant, his hand on your back, warm and grounding.

“Hey, hey… breathe,” he murmurs gently, his thumb rubbing small circles against your spine.

“It’s okay. Just breathe.”

You close your eyes and focus on the rhythm of your breathing, counting each inhale and exhale until the nausea begins to subside. Slowly, you sit back, wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand. The embarrassment is hot on your face, and you can’t quite meet Nanami’s eyes.

“I’m fine, Kento”, you mutter, though you can tell it sounds unconvincing.

Nanami’s hand is still on your back, his touch firm yet gentle. He doesn’t say anything, not yet. You know he’s waiting, giving you space to figure out what’s going on. But even through your haze of denial, a part of you knows the truth is starting to unravel.

“Does this happen often?”

His voice is calm, but there’s an undercurrent of something more. Something you can’t quite place.

You swallow hard, not sure how to answer.

“It’s just been the past couple of weeks,” you admit quietly.

“I think it’s stress. Maybe some kind of stomach bug?”

Nanami’s brow furrows slightly, and he crouches down beside your chair, his eyes searching your face with that same quiet intensity.

“Are there any other symptoms?”

Your mouth opens to say no, but then you stop, thinking back over the past few weeks. The tiredness, the nausea, the strange sensitivity to smells, your shifting moods - small things you’d brushed off or tried to ignore. But now, all at once, it feels like they’re adding up, slotting together in a way that you hadn’t considered before.

You glance down at your hand, the one resting on your stomach, and something inside you clicks.

Oh.

Oh.

Nanami must notice the shift in your expression because his hand stills on your back.

“What is it?” he asks, his voice low and steady.

You swallow hard, the words catching in your throat before you finally manage to speak.

“I think… I might be pregnant.”

There. You’ve said it. And the weight of those words hangs heavy in the air between you, a truth you hadn’t been ready to acknowledge until now.

Kento doesn’t react immediately. His expression stays calm, though you can see the flicker of something in his eyes - surprise, perhaps, or maybe something more. Did he already suspect this? Is this why he pushed you to think about your symptoms further? Slowly, he straightens up, standing in front of you now as he takes a deep breath.

“Are you sure?”

You shake your head, feeling a little lost.

“I’m not. I… I hadn’t really thought about it until just now.”

The truth is, you hadn’t considered the possibility at all. With everything going on - work, life, the general busyness of existing, it hadn’t crossed your mind that this could be the reason behind everything you’ve been feeling.

But now that it’s out in the open, you can’t help but wonder how you missed the signs.

Nanami’s hand gently cups your chin, tilting your face up so that you’re looking at him. His gaze is steady, calm in a way that grounds you, just like always.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions yet,” he says quietly.

“But if you think there’s a chance…”

You nod, your throat suddenly tight.

“Yeah. There might be.”

For a long moment, neither of you says anything. The air between you feels thick with unspoken emotions, a quiet understanding settling between you. Nanami steps closer, his hand moving from your chin to cup your cheek instead, his thumb brushing against your skin.

“We’ll figure this out,” he murmurs, his voice soft.

“Together.”

The sincerity in his words washes over you, bringing with it a flood of emotions you hadn’t realized you were holding back. You blink, your vision blurring slightly as you reach up to cover his hand with yours.

“I’m scared,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Nanami’s expression softens, and he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I know. But whatever happens, we’ll face it together. I promise” he mutters against your skin.

You nod, your heart swelling with a mix of fear, uncertainty, and something else, something warmer, softer. You aren’t alone in this. No matter what happens, you have your boyfriend by your side, steady and unshakable.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting yours again.

“Do you want to take a test?” he asks, his voice careful, as if he’s gauging your readiness.

You hesitate, biting your lip.

“I… I don’t know. Maybe? I mean, I guess I should, right?”

Nanami nods, but he doesn’t push.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

The idea of taking a test feels overwhelming, like it would make everything real in a way you’re not sure you’re prepared for. But at the same time, the uncertainty is starting to weigh on you, the not knowing gnawing at the edges of your thoughts.

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment as you try to gather yourself. When you open them again, Nanami is still there, watching you with that quiet patience you’ve come to rely on so much.

“Okay,” you say finally, your voice trembling just a little.

“Okay. I’ll take a test.”

Nanami squeezes your hand gently, a reassuring presence beside you.

“I’ll go get one,” he offers, his tone calm and matter-of-fact, like he’s suggesting something as simple as picking up groceries.

You nod, feeling a little more settled now that a decision has been made.

“Yeah, okay. Thank you.”

He leans down, pressing another soft kiss to your forehead before pulling back.

“I’ll be back soon.”

With that, he grabs his keys and heads for the door, casting one last glance over his shoulder before he slips out into the hallway.

Once he’s gone, the quiet of the apartment feels almost too loud. You sit there for a long moment, staring at the cup of tea in front of you, your mind racing with thoughts you can’t quite hold onto.

Pregnant. You might be pregnant.

The idea feels too big, too surreal to grasp, and yet it’s there, lingering just at the edge of your awareness. A part of you is scared, terrified of the changes this could bring. But another part, a part you’re only just beginning to acknowledge, feels something else. Hope, maybe? Excitement? It’s hard to tell.

All you know for sure is that everything feels different now, that your whole life will be turned upside down if this test comes out positive.

When Nanami returns a short while later, test in hand, you take it from him with trembling fingers. He doesn’t say anything, just gives you a small, reassuring nod as you disappear into the bathroom.

The minutes that follow are some of the longest of your life. You pace back and forth in front of the sink, your heart pounding in your chest as you wait for the results. The silence feels deafening, and all you can do is focus on your breathing, trying to keep yourself calm.

Finally, the time is up. You glance down at the test, your breath catching in your throat as you read the result.

Positive.

You stare at it for a long moment, your mind struggling to process what you’re seeing. And then, slowly, the reality starts to sink in.

You’re pregnant.

With shaking hands, you open the bathroom door to find Nanami standing just outside, waiting. He looks up at you, his expression calm but expectant.

“Well?” he asks quietly.

You swallow hard, your voice catching in your throat as you hold up the test.

“It’s positive.”

For a moment, Nanami doesn’t say anything. His eyes flicker to the test in your hand, and then back to your face, his expression unreadable. And then, slowly, he steps forward, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle, grounding embrace.

“We’re going to be okay,” he murmurs against your hair.

“You’re going to be okay.”

And somehow, with his arms around you, you really believe him. Maybe you will be able to work this out. After all, you have none other than Kento Nanami by your side, right?

“Kento…”, you begin, the flood of sniffs and wild emotions now slowly but surely calming down.

“What is it, darling?”

“Did you…did you know?”

He sends a small smile your way while gently stroking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I couldn’t be sure. But after seeing you like this for a couple of weeks now, I had some suspicions”, he admits quietly.

You let out a huff.

“I can’t believe you realized it earlier than I did.”

“You are my life, (y/n). I notice every little thin about you.”

“And now you’ll be the father of a child”, you breathe out.

The words still feel strange while rolling off your tongue. Kento Nanami will be a father – the father of your child.

You are pregnant.

This is real.

“And I couldn’t ask for a better mother for my child.”

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[honey-on-your-tongue]

Logan's favorite positionssssss 😫😫😫

He is a doggy style man THROUGH AND THROUGH convince me otherwise. Holding your hips while he fucks you hard and deep and fast from behind? Yup, he could die a happy man there and then. Seeing your ass jiggle, your back arch, the way you bury your face into the pillows and whimper, “Daddy! Daddy!” are just some of his favorite things.

He's also a huge fan of you riding him. The way you whine, weak, legs exhausted from bouncing on his cock for hours and he just smirks and laughs as he sees you struggling. “C'mon, bub, you can do better than that,” he teases, grinning as tears of frustration fill your eyes. He'll keep teasing you until you finally lose it and he'll lift you up effortlessly, thrusting into you so hard you see stars. Plus, once you both have comed, he likes to watch his thick load drip out of you, milky white and sticky as it coats your thighs.

Missionary? Absolutely. Watching your face getting lost in ecstasy, your legs up on his shoulders, hands grabbing onto the bedsheets hard enough to tear them apart. Plus, he likes to lean down, kiss you softly—if he's feeling sweet. If not, he'll spit into your mouth and love how flustered and embarrassed you get. But he knows you love it since your pussy clenches around his cock tight and you get significantly wetter.

Last—but sure as fuck not least—bending you over. Jesus fucking Christ. Logan loves doing this. Especially over the bathroom sink. He'll grab your hair, pull your head back, make you watch how pathetic you look as he rams into you from behind. There's nothing that fuels his ego quite like watching you stare at your reflection, utterly embarrassed but unable to help it, as you let him use you like a fucking whore. You love it, he loves it. It's a win win for everyone.

---

Hehehehehehe send help (or send this man, preferably 🫶)

---

Blog masterlist

[adragonprinceswhore]

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)wife

Chapter VII: Landslide 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: Life goes on, even with a broken heart. Can you and Aemond move forward as bandmates, and not partners?

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, smut, feral lovemaking, P in V, toxic family dynamic, angst

Word count: 5000

A/N: As always, thank you so much for helping me my lovely Justine @theoneeyedprince 🩵

You dismiss another call from an unknown number with an annoyed flick of your finger and continue reading the document in front of you, eyes scanning over the deed poll forwarded to you by your solicitor.

Back to only carrying your maiden name. Targaryen officially removed.

It’s strange, like the marriage never happened.

You can’t decide if the thought is comforting or devastating. What would your life be like if you’d never met Aemond? No fervid passion. No ruinous heartache.

Last year, you couldn’t imagine a day when you wouldn’t be by his side. The man you called family. Your husband.

It’s official. You’re not family anymore.

Aemond’s voice is hushed as he speaks to his grandfather out on the balcony. He’d asked you to wait in the living room as he took the call, but not being by his side makes you feel restless.

You knew Otto would be ruthless; stooping impossibly low in order to make Aemond rethink his decision to leave the firm to pursue the band full time.

He finally emerges from the balcony, eyes half-lidded from exhaustion and face hollow. You shift your body slightly on the sofa, bringing your arms out so he can sit down next to you and fall into your embrace.

He does exactly that.

Your fingers come up to comb through his hair as you gently ask, “What did he say?”

Aemond just sighs as he moves to hide his face in the crook of your neck, arms leisurely placed around your waist.

You already know the answer.

That he was ashamed of having a quitter for a grandson. That Aemond will never amount to anything without his grandfather. That he’s too intelligent to think that pursuing a band could be a viable career path.

“What do I do now”, he mumbles defeatedly against your skin.

You tap his cheek lightly with the tip of your finger to make him look up at you.

Your eyes lock, and you place your hand on his cheek, gently stroking your thumb over his cheekbone,

“I am your family now, Aemond. We’ll always have each other”

You seal your reassurance with a kiss, and he eagerly reciprocates, pushing himself up to hover over you. You sink further into the sofa cushions as he surges down to kiss you again.

And again.

His kisses are slow and forceful, nearly sucking the soul out of you, leaving you breathless.

You soon find yourself in your shared bed, Aemond arms still wrapped tightly around you.

He lets his forehead down to rest against yours, and gazes into your eyes with an almost manic stare as he whispers,

“You’re my everything”

Each of his kisses, touches and whispers echo the devotion he feels for you, and warmth spreads like wildfire in your chest. This must be what it feels like to have someone love you entirely.

When the two of you become one, he rolls his hips against yours unhurriedly, sending pleasurable sparks through your body. It feels so, so good all you can do is moan, and you bring one hand up to grab a fistful of the hair at the back of his head, smashing his lips against yours in a messy kiss.

The only sound in the room, in the entire flat, is your matching breaths as you entwine pants and moans, lips never leaving the other’s.

You can hardly form a coherent thought as each of his thrusts makes his pelvis press against your clit,

“Don’t come yet”, he breathes into your mouth and kisses you again. You nod obediently.

He turns you so that you're on your side and lays down right behind you.

His large hand caresses the smooth skin of your thigh before grabbing your flesh, draping your leg over his hips as he begins to rut into you, a bit harsher than before.

You reply with a moan, letting him know how good he feels. Your hand searches his, still on your thigh, and you hold onto it for some stability as your body jolts forward with each harsh snap of his hips.

He goes harder, thrusting into you with his face pressed to you cheek, mumbling in your ear,

“Feels so fucking good, baby”

You moan again and move your face slightly to place another wet kiss on his cheek. They’re flustered, and the top of his ears are almost as red as his face. There’s a determined look in his eye that wasn’t there before, fiery in a stern way that doesn’t quite match your passionate love-making.

Using his arm for leverage, he lifts his body slightly, fucking you harder and harder. Your body gets pushed into the mattress and you find yourself on your stomach, one hand sneaking down to rub circles between your thighs. Aemond grunts as your walls clench down on his length, his face now shielded in your hair.

“I’d fucking die for you, you know”, he grits out, continuing his merciless pace.

Though your peak is nearing rapidly, rendering your brain nearly useless, you feel like something’s not right.

He sounds angry.

You turn your head from where it’s pushed into the mattress. He looks deranged; hair falling in front of his face and pupil blown wide, eyes filled with something you can’t really decipher.

But it’s not purely lust.

You call his name and bring your hand up to stroke his cheek, searching for his eyes. He keeps his gaze on your body, refusing to look up and meet your concerned frown.

“Aemond, are you okay?”

He dismissively grunts at your question, but slows down and finally meets your eyes.

Is he upset?

You’re not sure what’s going on, but you see that sadness reflect in his eyes; the same vulnerability that pops up whenever he feels threatened.

When he feels like he might lose you.

It’s usually obscured by anger, but now it seems too potent for him to suppress.

Staring into his seeing eye, you console him,

“I love you too, Aemond”

His expression falls.

His eyes shine with sadness.

It makes you sad too. If he’d only let you in on what makes him like this, you could help him; reassure him that whatever it is he fears won’t come true. But he doesn’t let you in.

And all you can do is watch.

The movement of his hips falters, and he says nothing, only breathes heavily.

The hand you have resting on his cheek slowly travels down to his chest, and you push him gently, gesturing for him to lay down on his back.

He follows your silent instructions without protest.

You turn around and move one of your legs so that you’re straddling him, hands resting on his chest. You slowly sink down on his cock, feeling whole again as it stretches you out in the most perfect way.

You moan and throw your head back, setting a slow, steady pace. Your hips move up and down, front and back.

Aemond’ s hands squeeze your hips harshly as he matches your rhythm, bucking up into you, losing himself to pleasure once more.

“You feel so good, baby”, you tell him, pace never faltering,

“No one could ever make me feel as good as you do”

He moans, one hand moving from your hip to your breast, cupping it and pinching your nipple between his fingers.

You sigh in pleasure and lay down on top of him, hands moving to cup his face. Your thumb strokes the marred side of his face, and you notice his gaze flickering away from yours. With a persistent grip, you push on the side of his face to make him look into your eyes again,

“You’re mine. And I’m yours”

Your lips meet his, and the kiss you thought would be slow and sweet turns heated as Aemond harshly grabs your body again, arms wrapping around your waist. He bucks up faster, fucking you harder, and with a startled, pleasure-drunk cry into his mouth, you abruptly peak. He follows with a loud groan, and moves his face to the crook of your neck again, just like earlier in the evening.

He holds your body securely against himself, and after a while, you try to pry his arms away and get off him, but he just mumbles into your neck,

“No, please”

You lay your head back down and close your eyes. Aemond is deadly silent, but you feel his breath against the skin over your collarbones, and something wet slides down the hollow of your neck.

Shut out and without being allowed in, you try to soothe him the only way you know how,

“I love you”

Two days have passed since your live show in Winterfell, and your phone won’t stop buzzing with incoming calls from unknown numbers.

You know they’re from journalists hoping to get a comment from you about the performance and your new song, the drama of it clearly being about your ex husband fuelling their thirst for gossip.

You’d spent the time since the concert in isolation, essentially doing nothing besides watching TV and eating takeaway in your hotel room.

You left Winterfell yesterday, boarding an overnight flight to Oldtown for your next show.

Today, you’ve finally found a reason to get out of the hotel room, planning on an afternoon looking around the vintage shops that are scattered around the narrow cobblestone streets of the quaint town.

You spend nearly an hour in your favourite boutique; a hidden gem a few minutes away from one of the more famous shopping streets of the city.

When you and Aemond were still together, you often came to Oldtown to visit his mum. Seeking some familiarity after her husband, Viserys Targaryen, passed away, she decided to move back to her hometown and hasn’t left since.

Alicent thrived in the town she grew up in, and whenever you came to visit, she eagerly showed you around all the places she’d frequented with her friends as a young girl.

Aemond, in turn, had shown you his favourite spots as well; bookstores, record shops, and organic coffee shops. You remember that one time he tried to convince you that the all-natural, no sugar brownie he’d ordered tastes just as good as the real deal. The face of betrayal you made as you took a large bite of the brick-flavoured monstrosity he’d dared call a brownie caused Aemond to release the most out-of-character belly laugh you’ve ever heard.

The memory still pulls your lips into a smile.

Stop it!

You try to shake your head in a feeble attempt to erase the train of thought. You need to make new memories here now.

Memories not tainted by him.

The last rays of sun for the day shine through the gaps between the ancient buildings cramped together on the streets when you decide to make your way back to the hotel. You pull out your phone to type in the address, still not familiar with navigating Oldtown on your own. The map on your phone shows that it’s a 15 minutes walk along the water to your destination, the perfectly idyllic end to a quite okay afternoon.

The sun quickly sets behind the stoney, worn houses surrounding you, and street lights illuminate your path as you walk, enjoying the calmness of the rather large city. Most people have returned home as darkness envelops the streets, leaving you alone on your way back.

You turn to walk down one of the sidestreets towards the hotel, when you suddenly feel a hand on your shoulder, pulling you out from your thoughts.

You abruptly stop and look back, catching the gaze of a man you’ve never seen before. He smiles at you in a way that makes the hairs at the back of your neck stand.

Still with his hand on your shoulder, he asks,

“Aren’t you the singer from Dragon Dreamers?”

“Yes”, you reply, unsure of how to assess him. There’s something in his intense stare that causes unease to chill you from within, yet you appear to be frozen in place.

You have been approached by fans on occasion before, but never alone in a somewhat unfamiliar city.

“I’m a huge fan. This might be a bit forward, but could I take you out to dinner?”

The hand he has placed on your shoulder squeezes your flesh over your jacket. His eyes are expectant, not blinking, and his voice is slightly strained, adding to your already uncomfortable state.

“Thank you, but I’m on my way back to my hotel, and-, I-, I need to get back”

Your answer is hurried and clumsy, and you hope the stranger will understand your discomfort and leave you alone.

“Oh, where are you staying?”

His eyes light up when he adds,

“I can walk with you”

“That’s kind of you, really, but not necessary, I’m okay. Thanks”

You try to hide the dismissal behind a veil of politeness, hoping he’ll take the hint and leave you alone.

You turn around to walk away, almost stumbling over your own feet as they move quickly over the cobblestoned streets.

The man doesn’t say anything else, but you notice him in the corner of your eyes. He starts walking in the same direction as you, only a few steps behind. He’s close enough to keep you within his sight, far away enough for it to seem innocent.

Is he going to hurt you?

Your heart beats faster.

Force himself into your hotel room?

You can hear your heart drumming in your ears, panic washing over you.

You don’t dare to look back at him, afraid that he might take it as another invitation to engage you in conversation, but he stays in the corner of your eye; like an ever-looming monster.

Luckily, there’s a small group of people walking ahead of you, oblivious to the fact that you’re being followed by an unknown man.

What would he do if they weren’t here?

Your steps grow quicker.

You glance at your phone; still a 10 minutes walk until you reach the hotel. The man behind you speeds up his footsteps as well, matching your pace while staying a few metres behind you.

You’re still too scared to look behind and properly face him. The small group of people walking ahead of you look like they might turn by a sidestreet at any moment, and fear pierces your heart at the thought.

Then you’d be alone. With him.

Maybe there’s a corner shop or something around here where you can pop in and spend enough time for him to get bored and leave?

Or maybe you can call someone to come and meet you?

Looking up at the buildings surrounding you, you realise that you recognise this street.

This is the area where Alicent lives.

Maybe he’s staying there?

Before you can think any further, your fingers press on the screen of your phone, going into settings, unblocking the familiar number before pressing the little telephone icon.

You hear two signals before the call is cancelled.

Fuck! Now he ignores your calls?

Your fingers move quickly as you type out,

“sorry someone’s following me I’m walking home please pick up”.

Barely a second passes before your phone buzzes.

“Hi! Yes, I’m just around the corner, can you see me yet?”, you ask in a way too hurried tone, ruining your own attempt at sounding casual.

Your voice is loud and high-pitched as you try to signal to the man behind you that someone’s coming to meet you.

Hopefully he’ll give up his pursuit and leave you alone.

“What street are you on?”

You can hear Aemond shuffling around on the other side; picking up keys and putting on his shoes.

You look up at one of the buildings, reading the name of the street,

“Yes, I’m standing on Gardener Avenue, where you told me to meet you”, you continue to babble, hoping the shadow behind you will finally stop following you as it appears you’re about to meet someone.

“Do you remember the way to the apartment?”

“Yes"

“Walk towards it, I’m coming out to meet you. Stay on the phone with me”

Aemond sounds calm, but there’s something urgent hiding in his stoicism.

“Yes”

The conversation dies out. You’re not really on small-talking terms, so trying to fill the silence between the two of you proves tricky. Despite the silence and awkwardness, the panic that had been sprinting within you seems to ease knowing that Aemond is there.

The group in front of you eventually turn down a sidestreet, and in the corner of your eye, you see the man behind you walk faster, coming closer.

Another wave of fear crashes over you, and your heart beats so fiercely your chest hurts.

Is Aemond coming?

Maybe if you pretend to see him, you’ll finally be left alone.

“I think I see you!”, you exclaim in vain, hoping the man behind you won’t see through your lie.

He’s right behind you, so close you can hear his laboured breaths. You can’t breathe.

But then, you see the familiar silhouette of a tall man with broad shoulders appear in quick and confident steps around a corner.

The unknown man behind you seems to retreat in an instant, but it doesn’t stop Aemond from calling out,

“Were you fucking following her?”

He’s gone before any further confrontation. Left is you and Aemond, alone on a dark, empty street.

Closing your eyes, you try to take a few deep breaths to ground yourself, still feeling unnerved from what had just happened.

Breathe in.

Hold three seconds.

Breathe out.

Hold three seconds.

“Are you okay?”

You don’t open your eyes.

You can’t look up at him, knowing that the flicker of hatred in his eye as he regards you will push you over the edge; push you to release the tears that have been waiting to spill since the strange man first laid his hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah, just need to get back to the hotel”, you mumble and inhale deeply once again to ground yourself.

It doesn’t help, not really.

The lump in your throat feels like a painful stone blocking your airflow.

You feel Aemond step closer to you, tenderly placing a hand on your elbow as he silently waits for you to continue.

You reluctantly open your eyes to look up at him, surprised to find his face reflect gentle understanding. The unexpected act of kindness pushes you over the edge and you let out a shaky breath as you feel the pent-up tears spill from your eyes,

“Sorry, it’s just-, I mean, nothing happened, but…”

One of your hands comes up to wipe away the tears that slide down your cheeks.

“Something could’ve happened”, Aemond finishes for you. He sounds like he usually does; stoic, but you can sense the hint of sympathy there.

“Sorry for calling you so suddenly, I shouldn’t have-, I didn’t know who to call…”

The words tumble out of your mouth ungracefully, matching the hurried pace of your still frightened heart.

“Don’t apologise”

He squeezes your elbow softly in reassurance,

“Come back to mum’s place with me”, he says, “It’s just around the corner”

“No, really, I’m fine! Nothing happened and I need to rest before tomorrow’s show”, you explain as more tears slide down your cheeks.

Fucking stop crying.

“You shouldn’t be alone right now. Come up, just for a cup of tea to calm your nerves. Please?”

Aemond’s voice is more gentle than you remember him capable of.

Defeated, you reply with a silent nod and let him lead you back to his mum’s home.

As you step into Alicent’s lavish apartment, you're hit by nostalgia so potent it makes more tears well up in your already damp eyes.

Everything smells the same.

Everything looks the same.

“Is she here?”, you ask, voice small and unsteady.

“She’s out having dinner with Cole”

Aemond takes off his shoes and neatly places them on the shoe rack. He moves to the kitchen to fill the kettle and you follow closely behind, discreetly sweeping the back of your hand against your cheek to wipe away the tears that keep sliding down.

Fucking pull it together!

Aemond flicks his hand towards the chair by the small, round table in the corner of the kitchen; the breakfast nook where Alicent would serve coffee and fresh bread in the morning whenever you stayed over.

It’s all so familiar, yet being here feels so different; almost taboo. Like you’re not allowed here anymore.

You sit down and place your hands on the table, nervously tapping your fingers together as you wait for Aemond to bring the tea over.

He places the flower-patterned cup with gold details by your restless hands and sits down in the chair opposite yours,

“Drink”, he encourages and takes a sip from his own cup, seeing eye watching you intensely.

You pick up the cup, experimentally sipping, letting the hot beverage warm you from within.

It’s comforting.

“Do you really tell yourself I never loved you?”

Aemond’s sudden question takes you by such surprise, you nearly choke on your tea.

Your eyes dart up from watching the cup in your hand to watch him. His expression is as calculated as always; not letting you in on what he’s thinking. Still, his voice is gentle, like it’s been since he came to your rescue.

“I-”, you begin, trying to come up with an answer to his absurd query.

Why is he asking you this now?

“I mean, sometimes it felt like you didn’t love me”, you answer truthfully, carefully observing his reaction.

He gives nothing away as he hums in response.

“You seemed miserable being with me”, you add, wondering if this is the long overdue heart-to-heart both of you have been avoiding.

“Sometimes I was”, he replies matter of factly.

You’re not surprised by his response, not really, but having your suspicions confirmed allows you to prod further,

“I guess I just wonder whether you loved me, or just the idea of me?”

You know you’re poking a resting bear, but you can’t help yourself. You need to know what he thinks about all of this.

About you.

Aemond doesn’t blink when he answers,

“You were my first love”

You feel that all too familiar lump in your throat reappear.

“It was all so new to me, caring about someone so much. Someone who’s not family. I didn’t know how to handle those feelings”, he admits and you have to stop yourself from letting the astonishment you feel from his confession show on your face.

It’s quiet for a while. You are too shocked by Aemond’s sudden introspection, and he’s still cautious about opening up, observing you expectantly.

After a few deep breaths and some soothing tea, you speak up,

“I know things have been hard for you Aemond, and I-, I really tried to understand you. But my sympathy for you wasn’t endless… It-, I ran out”

You really don't want to fight, you don’t think you could handle it in the state you’re in now, but being honest with your ex husband always came with the risk of him lashing out.

He sighs, leans back, and locks eyes with you,

“I know. Thank you for… trying”

And that’s it. The conversation dies, like it’s run its course. Just like your relationship.

Aemond calls a taxi for you to bring you the short distance to the hotel. Both of you stay in your seats, waiting for your ride in silence.

There’s still one thing you need to tell him.

“I really want this to work, Aemond. The band, I mean”

Aemond hums in response again, finger tapping rhythmically against the top of Alicent’s kitchen table,

“Me too”, he replies after some time of silence.

It almost feels official in a way, the fact that you’ve finally agreed with each other that the band comes first; even before your broken hearts.

The silence persists as you down the last of your tea.

You feel a strange mixture of emptiness and melancholy inside. It all hits you at once; the divorce, removing his name from yours, continuing on as nothing more than business partners.

It starts as a sting in your chest, but blooms out into a suffocating ache.

He doesn’t want you anymore.

And you don’t want him; can’t want him.

It does not matter how wonderful it had been at times. The pain of the heartache you caused each other weighs heavier. And there’s nowhere to go but forward, even if your heart breaks with each step.

Life goes on.

The performance in Oldtown is just as exhilarating as the previous lives had been.

The crowd is loving every second and the venue is packed.

You feel alive.

This is it.

This is what matters.

Your biggest hit from your first album, Landslide, is a permanent feature in any show you play.

You’d written it from the sidelines, watching as duty tore the person you loved most into every direction possible.

Tonight, as you stay on the stage with Aemond and your band members retreat backstage, singing Landslide suddenly feels different.

You shoot him a quick glance before approaching your mic to introduce the next song.

They’re shouting your name, shouting Aemonds name, and you think you hear someone yell out ‘the sound of the woman that loved you!’

Speaking with Aemond earlier today, when you agreed you’d prioritise the band over any dispute you had, has left you nostalgic. Singing ‘Landslide’ feels like offering a piece of your heart, the heart he had held in his palm, to him once again.

“I wrote this song about a boy who had to grow up too fast”, you say, and Aemond starts to pluck the strings of his guitar.

‘I took my love and I took it down’

‘I climbed a mountain and I turned around’

‘And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills’

'Til the landslide brought me down’

You’d never told Aemond you wrote this song about him and his grandfather.

There was never any need to. You’re convinced that he already knows it’s about them.

You can’t help but to look over at him; at the way his hands move gracefully over the guitar.

‘Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?’

‘Can the child within my heart rise above?’

Leaving his grandfather’s firm and subsequently leaving the path his entire life had led to had been tough for him, even with you by his side.

And now he’ll have to navigate this new course alone.

You still find yourself worrying about him; for the boy robbed of his vision, forced to grow up faster than most.

‘Can I sail through the changin' ocean tides?’

‘Can I handle the seasons of my life?’

‘Well, I've been afraid of changin'

'Cause I've built my life around you’

He’s had to adapt; had to rethink and relearn everything before.

He will be fine.

Maybe you just worry about him because you hope, somewhere inside, that he won’t be fine without you?

A selfish wish for him to need you.

‘But time makes you bolder’

‘Even children get older’

‘And I'm getting older too’

It’s time to let go.

For the first time since the beginning of the tour, you don’t feel an urgent need to escape to the solitude of your hotel room as soon as the show is over.

You move unhurried backstage, gathering your things, looking over your stage outfits, pondering if you’ll wear the same thing each night or mix it up.

Just when you’re about to leave, you see auburn hair flash by as Alicent Hightower enters the backstage area, throwing her arms around her two children, loudly gushing over how incredible the show had been.

You go back to inspect your wardrobe with your back turned to them, suddenly feeling stiff and awkward with your ex mother-in-law in the room.

You haven’t seen her in months, not since before the divorce.

As the chatter behind you dies down, the clicking of heels grows louder before coming to a halt.

You know she’s standing behind you, one gentle hand coming up to lightly tap your back.

You turn around with a forced smile on your face.

How do you act around your ex-husband’s mother?

Alicent’s large, warm eyes shimmer as she looks you over, grabbing your shoulders to pull you in for a hug.

“Darling, what an incredible show! You were absolutely fantastic”, she compliments, smiling wide.

You smile back at her,

“Thank you, Alicent”

“How are you holding up?”

Her tone is soft, and her hands stay on both sides of your shoulders.

“I’m good”, you reply shortly, not really sure whether you should confide in your ex-husband's mother or not.

“I’m so glad you can put your differences aside and continue to work together”, she says sympathetically, but her choice of words make you wince slightly.

“And now is your opportunity to be brave. You’re both such wonderful artists. Focus on the music, alright?”

“Yes”

Your answer sounds meek. Her words send a pang straight to your heart.

It’s all so final.

It’s all over.

You look into each other’s eyes, a thousand words said within mere seconds as you feel your eyes well up with tears.

Alicent offers you a sad smile before embracing you in another warm hug.

Silent, hot tears slide down your cheeks as you mumble into her hair, “Will you take care of him?”

She pats your head, hand sliding down to stroke your hair lovingly, And then she hums, sounding so much like her son.

“Mm. Thank you for loving him”

A/N: Thank you sm for reading!

[f1amour]

「 ✦ F1 GRID — ANGST DRABBLES.

pairings include | max verstappen x assistant!reader, carlos sainz jr. x wolff!reader, charles leclerc x mexican!reader, lando norris x pr!manager!reader

authors note | if you have any requests for some drabbles send them my way! my inbox is always open <3

navigation | main masterlist (coming soon)

— MAX VERSTAPPEN ¹

unrequited love assistant!reader

Becoming an assistant to Max Verstappen was not your plan when you visited Monaco during winter break to celebrate completing your degree. It was a trip you’d been looking forward to all year long after all the long nights of studying and exam taking.

Bumping into Max and getting coffee with him to end up with a one in a lifetime job opportunity was not your plan. You had never imagined going on vacation and ending it with a job.

You also were not planning to fall in love with Max.

Spending two years loving him in the dark was the hardest time in your life. You kept those feelings because he was your boss and you were just his assistant.

But standing here now at the Dutch Grand Prix as Max takes second place you could see the disappointment in his eyes but also the exhaustion. You knew the pressure he has been putting on himself after not having won since June.

"I know it isn't first place but you did amazing out there give the circumstances of how shitty the car is. You made it work." You tell Max while you sit in the seat beside him on your jet.

A few of the drivers were going to join but Max needed space from everyone. You weren't sure why he asked you to stay, you could have given him space as well and booked a flight with everyone else.

A small part of you hoped maybe he needed you and nobody else.

"I just...I don't want to talk about that right now. I'm sorry." With a frown on his face, he traces circles on your thigh; a habit he had for awhile now when he felt upset or anxious.

It wasn't the right place or time to confess your feelings but would there ever be a right time? You figured this was your chance to say it before you fell into a deeper hole of keeping this in.

Maybe he will feel the same way. Maybe.

"Okay we won't talk about that...we can talk about something else? Something I have been wanting to tell you for awhile now."

You take a deep breath, "Okay we won't talk about that...we can talk about something else? Something I have been wanting to tell you for awhile now." Bracing yourself for the confession that is about to come.

Max knew just from the look in your eyes that what you wanted to say was something he had been trying to avoid. But now in the air with no where else to go he would have to hear you out.

"Please y/n don't. Don't say it." His pleas come out almost pathetically. He did not want to hear those three words come out of your mouth when he knows he won't say it back to you.

"I can't keep holding this in any longer than I have. Max, I love you--."

"You can't. No. Y/n please don-."

"I love you. I love you and I need you to hear that now I can't go another two years with you not knowing. I've tried to hide it, I've tried to push it away, but it's no use – I can't escape these feelings for you. From the moment I met you, there was something about you that just...captured me. Your smile, your laugh, your presence. It all took my breath away. I've tried to ignore this feeling, to push it down and forget about it, but it's always there, lurking in the back of my mind. I can't deny these feelings for you any longer."

Y/n's heart sinks into your stomach as the silence hangs heavily in the air after your confession. Max looks at you, and in the depth of his eyes, you see your fears confirmed. There is no glimmer of affection, no hint of reciprocated feelings. Just a cold, unspoken rejection.

You can sense that your words have not had the desired effect, and realization sets in: he does not feel the same.

Max breaks the silence, his voice soft and quiet, "I'm sorry. I don't feel the same way. I'm so sorry."

Feeling vulnerable and exposed at the moment she gives him a soft smile to conceal her tears, "t's okay. It was silly of me to think you would ever love me anyways. I just needed to say it before it consumed me more. I can move on now. I'm just going to do some work on my laptop back here." It was like a switch turned on inside you and you became cold.

Not letting the awkwardness of a now two hour flight ahead of you, you decided to bury yourself in work. Max was unaware of what you typed away on your computer was a letter of resignation something you sent right after separating ways at the airport.

You denied having a proper goodbye because you knew in the end you would have stayed. You love Max but you loved yourself enough to leave instead of hoping one day he would feel the same. Instead of trying everything you could do to get him to love you; you leave hoping you won't have to beg for your love to be reciprocated.

— CARLOS SAINZ JR. ⁵⁵

lovers to enemies wolff!reader

“Did you know?” Carlos questions you, entering the apartment slamming the door. His eyes filled with anger and a hint of sadness.

You smiled at him from the couch, “Hello to you too, grumpy. I don't know what you're talking about.” You say going back to your book.

“Y/n don't play dumb with me. I just got out of a meeting with the team, Lewis is taking my seat next year. You had to have known from your father. Why didn’t you tell me?” Carlos glares at you standing in front of you forcing to take your eyes off your book.

You sit him down next to you and continue, “Can you just try to remember that I’m his manager? We both signed nda's with Ferrari we couldn't tell anyone not even his family, Carlos please I really wanted to tell you but my job would be on the line i would have been fired and possibly sued if the news got out.” You grab his hands, begging him to look at you.

i couldn't tell you

“You…you’ve known all this time? And didn’t tell me?” His face flashes with hurt and you feel so much guilt being the reason he is feeling this way. You knew it was messed up not telling him but this was your job you had to be professional when it came to things like contracts. You hadn’t even told your Dad about it until Lewis was ready to confirm it to him,

“Lewis has been in talks with them for months but he and his agent handling it for that time because he knew how conflicting it would be for me knowing I would probably tell you. He didn’t tell me until a month ago when we had to go through his contract and what not. Baby, please I wanted to tell you but I couldn’t. But I promise all this will fix itself we have a plan!” You explain to him, the last sentence filled with hope and surprise for him but he’s too angry to see through that.

“Promise? You promises seem to have meant nothing as of now. You promised me a lot of things and have kept them but this one? Betraying me? You promised we would be truthful in our relationship turns out only I have been. I can't forgive this. I can’t forgive you.”

His next words hit you like a ton of bricks, “I’m done. Our relationship is done and I need you out of here by tonight. I’ll be back later tonight hopefully you’ll be gone by the time I am back.” He stands up grabbing his keys and you tug his hand back begging him to stay.

“Please please Carlos, I’m begging you you just listen to me. All this will make sense you just need to trust me, please? I love you and you love me—.”

“No. I don’t think I do anymore. Someone who loves me would have never done this to me. Have a great life.” He pushes your hand away and walks out not glancing back as you yell for him begging him to come back.

It took you a few hours to gather all your things taking a few breaks in between to stop yourself from crying but there was no use in that, if anyone saw your puffy read eyes they’d know immediately.

As you zip up your final suitcase you hear the door open and expecting to see Carlos coming into your bedroom you’re met with a blonde woman wrapped around him.

You clear your throat as they almost kiss in front of you and Carlos quickly turns to you not expecting you to still be here and his heart drops to his stomach, “What are you still doing here?” You scoff wiping your tears away, that’s all he had to say?

“Just finishing up. Charles said he will grab the rest of my bags tomorrow since I’m staying with him and Alexandra for now.” You tell him and grab your purse before taking the picture frame that was filled with collages of you and Carlos, taking it with you to the living room as Carlos follows after you.

You throw the picture frame into the trash can, “Why did you do that?” Carlos asks you.

You shrug pulling an envelope out of your purse, “Our relationship is done like you said. The decent thing you could have done is fucked someone at least 24 hours after we break up not three hours later. When you realize what you've lost you will fucking regret it all, Carlos. Have a good life.” You mimic his previous choose of words in your last sentence.

Shoving the envelope to his chest he watches you in confusion as to what it pertains, “Congrats.” You tell him walking out the door and out of his life not giving him a chance to ask anything.

It’s as if his heart felt you getting further and further away with every step his heart began to feel heavy. As he opens the envelope his heart stops seeing the words written in bold; CARLOS SAINZ JR. 2025 MERCEDES DRIVER CONTRACT & AGREEMENTS.

— CHARLES LECLERC ¹⁶

friends to lovers to strangers mexican!reader

FRIENDS.

Meeting Charles in 2019 at the Mexico City Grand Prix was one of your favorite moments you’ll ever have. Closing your world tour in your home country he and a few of the other drivers along with their girlfriends had gone to your closing night. You were a fan of the sport and more specifically a fan of the Ferrari driver.

Your team let you know he was out there which made you much more nervous but either way you killed it out there and made lots of eye contact with him. They go backstage per your request and you get along easily with everyone but it was Charles you connected with most.

Form then on you guys became an inseparable duo that the world shipped so much but you both always denied the dating rumors. Your friendship with Charles was purely platonic.

You both experienced each others best and worst moments personally but also career wise. Maybe that was one of the first things that made you both realize the platonic love you had might be a little more.

LOVERS.

You both had been in bed watching a movie one night when Charles finally made a move with a simple sweet kiss that turned to more later that night.

You were attached to each other even more now despite having busy schedules. You made it work and planned out your schedules to spend the most time you can together. It was perfect for the next three years and despite the small arguments you would have every now and then you guys always made up.

Charles was devoted to you. He would be exhausted from a race weekend but would get home excited to help you create new music. You’d be singing or on the guitar while he played the piano sharing ideas on what melody to use. He understood you so well. He knew every single thing about you even the smallest of details that you didn’t notice yourself.

You knew all his habits. The ones he had before and after racing. He’d go into a little mental bubble hours before a race trying his best to push himself to do his greatest. You knew he loved massages after a race so you’d always be waiting in his room to give him that. He adored the little notes you’d leave him in various spots where he could find them on different occasions while you are off touring.

Until one day, the loving touches and words of affirmation turned into bitter arguments and no loving touches at all.

“It’s over isn’t it?” You smiled at Charles as he holds onto you, he had been visiting for a few days during summer break but it was time to get back to work. You spent the days arguing a routine that you’ve both been getting used to now.

Questioning why he spent only a few days with you and spent most of the break with friends. He threw the argument back to why had you scheduled your tour dates around his break.

It had been the moment of realization for the two of you that you loved each other but you were no longer putting each other first. You didn’t act like lovers. You didn’t act like best friends. You acted more like strangers.

“I’m so sorry.” Charles apologizes, tears filling his eyes that match yours. You shake your head wiping his tears away and he mimics you, “I’m sorry. We both love each other but we stopped trying. We stopped taking care of each other…of our love.” You lean against his hands cupping your face.

This would be the last time you’d be in each others arms and you wanted to cherish it forever.

“I love you. I’ll always love you.” Charles chants, closing his eyes he says it repeatedly almost a if he were hoping to wake up from this nightmare.

“Te amo, Charles. Siempre.” Your lips meets his one last time savoring the moment for as long as you can until he is called over for his departing flight.

He walks away hoping maybe one day you could meet again and it would be a different story. Maybe your love story didn’t end here.

STRANGERS.

A year had passed and you’d been taking a much deserved break from singing. Enjoying life in Mexico exploring new spots and meeting new people. You made new friends but never forgot about the ones you made in the past.

The Mexico Grand Prix once again coming up this weekend and you had been invited by Red Bull Racing. An offer you didn’t decline wanting to support your fellow Mexican driver and friend Checo Perez but also to catch up with Max who you’d grown close to the last year.

Everyone in the paddock talked about your arrival and what was to be expected if you bumped into your former ex. You could care less what the media asked of you as you walked alongside Max and Kelly talking about your next album. As you walk your heart stops when you see Charles walking towards you with Carlos next to him eyeing the situation Kelly and Max doing the same with you.

But as you approach each other you simply stare straight ahead spying no attention to him and his teammate who give a quick wave to the couple next to you and continue walking past you.

No one else seemed to noticed your hand reaching for Charles as you walked by him, his hand reaching for yours as well. It felt like a force of habit. Maybe that’s why they reached for each other

But in the end they walked away as strangers.

Strangers with memories of each other.

— LANDO NORRIS ⁴

grumpy x sunshine pr!manager!reader

You weren’t sure why Lando had grown such a strong dislike from you since the moment you met. You were hired as his new PR manager for the 2022 season and you were the youngest member of the communications team but they didn’t underestimate you.

You proved yourself being Daniel Ricciardo’s PR manager for the 2022 season but after he left you were assigned to be Lando’s PR manager after his last one left the team.

Being in charge of Lando was…a mission.

It could have been easy if he didn’t treat you so terribly. He treated you as if you were a robot; pure work and no worry that his hurtful words affected you.

Despite the hurt he made you feel every day you spent together you still arrived to every race weekend with a smile. You played the part of the perfect PR manager despite the constant belittling of received from the McLaren driver.

But sooner or later that light would dim.

“She’s just aggravating. Always coming in with a smile and giving me advice on what I should do or say when I’m with the media.” Lando rants to Oscar as they sit in his drivers room waiting for interviews to begin.

“I mean…that’s technically her job.” Oscar defends you, he had grown close to you and your bubbly personality always lighting up a room. He wasn’t sure why Lando was so angry towards you.

Lando was fine with everyone else but you. He was a charming guy with a smile on his face but plenty did notice the scowl on his face that would cover his usual smile when he was around you.

He was cruel to you but for some fucked up reason you found yourself developing a crush on him. You weren’t sure why you liked him why every thought you had was about him. He was invading your mind and heart, even if he hated you.

You noticed the small things he enjoyed, like distressing with a good playlist after a race. He enjoyed finding new cameras to add to his collection. He wasn’t an avid drinker but did enjoy a vodka cran ever so often. He wouldn’t admit it but you could tell he was get homesick sometimes and wish his family were with him at every race.

So you made it your mission to FaceTime his family every weekend before and during a race. Whether he made it to the podium or not you’d hand your phone over to him so he can talk to his family. He had always assumed it was his family who asked you to do this gesture every race week but oh boy was he wrong.

You walk into the McLaren hospitality ready for the weekend with a plate of homemade cookies in your hand. You made sure to hand a cookie to everyone you said hello to until you arrived to the garage and saw Lando with his race engineer and Andrea beside them.

You approach them with a smile ready to offer them some cookies, “Hey guys, I made—.”

“Y/n can’t you see we’re busy right now? This is an actual job and we put time into it unlike yours you just tell me I need to smile and be fake, I got it. Let us be now.” Lando’s word spit out like venom intended to hurt you in every shape possible. His mind is telling him how fucked up that was but he was so stressed about his car that he didn’t realize it until it was too late and you had tears in your eyes.

“Right. Sorry.” You smile tearfully walking away quickly not having the chance to hear the two men next to Lando scolding him for treating you with such disrespect.

“Get that attitude fixed of yours against the girl, Lando. I’m not gonna deal with it any longer if you keep it up. She’s a great girl and has proven what a great job she does for this team and for you especially.”

Andrea’s words echo through his mind the entire race weekend and despite his cruel words towards you he noticed you still managed to put a smile on your face.

It was time to head out after scoring second place at the Chinese Grand Prix. Lando was looking around for you confused why you hadn’t been at the press conference and you had sent an intern instead.

He gets to his room hoping maybe you were in there and he was ready to apologize but found an empty room instead. A plate of cookies on his table and papers next to it, he approaches the table and looks at the small note on the plate of wrapped cookies, “asked your mom for her recipe since you said you missed her baking cookies for you. hope i do them justice <3”.

He felt guilt consume him realizing that your earlier gesture was made for him specifically and he had blown you off. His eyes look at the papers next to the plate and he sits on his chair in disbelief reading your letter of resignation papers. You quit on the spot and had already been long gone since the race began.

Good luck on the rest of your season, you’ll be a winner soon I’ll always believe in you.

He read the text over and over again that you had sent prior to leaving but he not seen it since he was racing. He spent the next week going back to the text and your note, you showed him so much kindness and all he ever was show you the opposite.

Arriving in Miami he didn’t realize how crucial your role was in guiding him with the media. The new PR manager wasn’t terrible but they weren’t like you. You still have him the liberty to be himself as he had the right to but this manager was useless.

The most unexpected part of this weekend was him finally winning his first ever Grand Prix in his career of being in Formula One. His heart beating with all the adrenaline running in his veins as he reaches his team celebrating with them.

But as he hugged everyone around him he looked around waiting for the one person he wanted to see and celebrate with; you.

It was all too late. He realized his feelings for you until you were gone and now here was begging to see you smiling face in the crowd.

Getting a small moment to himself he opened his phone and saw a text from you;

“Congrats. I knew this year would be yours. Keep on winning, future world champion.”

He didn’t deserve you not when his cruelty pushed you away and still somehow showed him the love he now wanted to give you.

[rqnarok]

you cannot tell me that old man!logan doesn’t have a daddy kink…

cws/tags: sexual content. oldman!logan. mild daddy kink. subspaces. dd/lg undertones. crying. dom!logan.

Old man Logan would be so into daddy kink; the name rolls off his tongue easily—“So good for Daddy, sweetheart.” 

He just can’t help it when you accidentally call him by that name while you were reaching your high. He is the one who continuously brings it up; never letting go of it. Because he fucking loves it.

“Yeah’ that’s it, kid. There ya’ go.” Logan murmurs endless praises as you try to sink down on his large girth. Calloused hands are rubbing circles on the skin on your tummy, guiding you down and down, “Fuck. Ya’ feel me here, kiddo?” 

You only respond to his question in a whimper, closing your eyes and biting your lips as you try to take more of him. The sight of his pretty baby fucked out on his lap is the most adorable thing he has ever witnessed, “Wanna be good for dada, huh?” His mouth trails soft kisses on your warm cheeks and temple.

“Can you speak, baby?” To let him know you’re alright, you lightly bob your head as you place your hands on his shoulders to support your body and raise yourself so only his tip remains—before dropping down again—way deep this time, you’re sure you got all of him inside you and you gained some confidence.

Logan lets out a strangled grunt in surprise, “Hey, take it easy, little bug. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.” He draws his palms on your back to cling you closer to his chest.

Slowly but surely, you rest your heavy head on his neck and rub your own head there to feel his untrimmed greying beard. You’ve earned your motivation again.

“I can do it, Daddy.” You plea to him, “Can’ do it. ‘M a big girl.” 

He tilts his head to lovingly scold you, “Don’t hurt yourself, little one.” Logan’s tired sugary smile only remains until you’ve managed to lift yourself upwards—your velvet walls wrap so deliciously tight around him and making him shut his eyes and inhale sharply, “F-fuck.”

“‘M a big girl!” You repeat as you bounce irregularly—feeling like you’ve overtaken him and everything else.

Well…not for long. 

Because after around five more times going up and down on him, you could feel yourself getting exhausted. Your eyes barely open up as you squeak a high-pitched whine—making grabby hands at him to get his attention. 

To get Daddy’s attention. 

“Ah- n-need help, Daddy.” You choke out, opening your eyes slightly to see that he’s already looking - observing you.

“Hm?” Logan hums as he brings his fingers to pinch at your soft cheeks, “Thought you’re a big girl now, baby?” His thumb rests just outside of your spit-licked mouth. Earning more humming approvals from the older man when you willingly open your lips and sucks it inside. 

“Wha’dya need Daddy’s help for if you’re a big girl?” He paraphrased his question again—his palm roaming below your breast before kneading each one of them. 

Tears begin to well up in your eyes as you’re feeling the stretch, “Daddy—” and the sting in your dripping pussy as an effect of your previous actions, “I-I thought I could do it…”

“What’d Daddy say?” Oh, you know you’re in trouble because he’s scolding you now. For not listening to him and to play-act in front of him. 

“‘M sorry!” You cannot help but cry out then wrap your arms around his neck, “Was just so excited, Daddy—need you so bad!” 

Logan coos your figure by threading his big hands through your hair, shushing hiccuped sobs down, “Shh,”

After hearing your breath steadying, he ruts his hips up against yours. Circling and thrusting to your tight heat as you rest your entire body weight onto him. You tremble in his arms as you hear skin-meet-skin slapping sounds echoing through your shared bedroom. Fully giving yourself to fall in his embrace. 

“Ya’ see? Y’re just a little girl, baby. Daddy’s little girl.”  

You nod and make out a confirmation whimper. Before you register it, he starts to move you too. 

Yeah, you feel way much better like this.

Being Daddy’s little girl and letting him have all the control there is.

[lovelookspretty]

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: ermm angst. and another ending that will make u guys mad at me IM SORRY

one | two | three | four | five | six

authors note: SRY idk how to write dramatic scenes like that ☹️ im gonna be better prepared for the next part so u guys can communicate PROPERLY w drew n not in some STUPID restaurant. anyway if u wanna be part of the tag list, let me know in replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3

your fingers trace the outline of freckles on his arm as he talks about a memory from your past. the soft murmur of his voice blends with the steady rhythm of the waves outside, each sound wrapping around you like a lullaby. there’s no clear distinction between his words, just a gentle hum of familiarity and warmth, like he’s telling you something only the two of you could ever understand.

you can feel the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the slight shiver that follows each brush as if he’s waiting for you to react, to smile at whatever joke he’s just made.

and you do. you always do.

it feels easy, like breathing, like everything else fades away in this moment.

you’re both lying there, tangled up in each other, the world outside irrelevant. his voice is like the background music of a song you never want to end, and the smile in his tone is contagious, making your heart flutter in a way that feels like home.

and in this space, you’re in love. you’re safe. there’s no distance, no secrets, no hurt—just you and him, where time doesn’t seem to exist. it feels perfect, endless, like nothing could ever come between you.

his hand finds yours, and you smile—because here, in this place, nothing else matters but the two of you.

but that’s not your life.

the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers feels too real, too perfect—yet there’s a gnawing sensation in your chest, a quiet voice whispering that this can’t be right. you pause, staring into his eyes as they flicker with life, his laughter still echoing in your ears. and then, just like that, it hits you.

“this isn’t real . . .” you murmur, the words slipping from your lips like a confession, soft and sad.

the moment shatters, and you wake up with a start, eyes blinking into the early morning light. for a second, your heart races, still tethered to that dream. but as you take in the quiet room around you, reality sinks in like a heavy weight.

drew lies next to you, sound asleep. his breathing is slow, peaceful, completely unaware of the storm brewing in your chest. his face looks calm, almost serene, and for a moment, you can’t tear your eyes away. you wish things could be this easy—simple, like they were in the dream.

if only he knew what you know.

after making that sundae with leila last night—past midnight, no less—you thought you’d be able to shake off everything that happened, but it just made you feel worse. the messages you saw on drew’s phone replayed in your mind, over and over, refusing to let you find any peace.

now it’s morning, and as you drag yourself out of bed, you already feel exhausted. your eyes are gritty, head foggy, and the sun through the windows of the house feel too bright, too warm—too much. you rub your eyes as you shuffle down the stairs, hearing the chatter of everyone gathered in the kitchen for breakfast.

everyone’s already there, looking refreshed. gia’s laughter rings out from the kitchen, and you catch leila’s voice, animated as always, chatting with theo. they’re all gathered around the kitchen island, passing plates of food around—scrambled eggs, toast, fruit. the smell of coffee hits you, and you could almost cry from how much you need it.

leila notices you first. “good morning, sleepyhead!” she greets with a wide grin. “we were wondering when you were gonna wake up. there’s plenty of food left—grab something!”

you give a tired half-smile, barely lifting your head as you mumble, “morning.” your voice sounds flat, even to yourself, and you trudge over to the counter, grabbing a cup of coffee first before anything else.

theo leans back in his chair, eyeing you. “late night?”

you nod, stifling a yawn as you pour your coffee. “something like that.”

leila doesn’t miss a beat, already steering the conversation to her plans. “so, now that we’re all here, i’ve got some exciting news,” she says, “theo booked us a reservation at this amazing restaurant in town tonight, the pearl. we’re talking grand—so dress up nice!” she claps her hands together, clearly excited about the idea.

the group is enthusiastic—gia’s already asking what she should wear, and roman’s grumbling about having to dress up, which earns him a jab from libby. you sip your coffee, trying to focus, but everything feels like it’s happening at a distance.

“y/n you okay with that? dinner?” leila asks, pulling you into the conversation.

you glance up at her, blinking through the haze. “yeah, sure,” you reply. “sounds fun.”

she narrows her eyes at you, noticing the lack of enthusiasm in your voice. “you sure? you seem a little out of it.”

you force another smile, trying to shake off the sluggish feeling. “just tired. i’ll be fine.”

gia chimes in from her seat, giggling as she steals a slice of toast. “maybe you just need more coffee.”

you nod, lifting your mug in agreement. “definitely.”

the conversation continues without you as everyone starts talking about what they’ll wear tonight, throwing out outfit ideas and making plans for the day. drew is sitting across the table, looking as refreshed as everyone else, laughing along with them. but you can’t bring yourself to look at him for long.

he catches your eye across the table. he looks at you with a soft, questioning expression, maybe sensing something’s off. you glance away before he can say anything, focusing on your coffee again, but you curse under your breath when out of the corner of your eye you can see him get up from his seat.

he slides into the chair next to you, a casual smile on his face. “started the trip off with a pool day, and now we’re heading to the pearl for dinner,” he says, glancing at the table where leila’s organized a small checklist on her notes app. “leila’s really in planning mode.”

you manage a half-hearted nod, feeling the fatigue settle deeper into your bones.

“hey,” he continues, his tone light, “you okay? you seem a little—”

you’re already over it. before he can finish, you drop your piece of toast back onto the plate, the sound cutting through the chatter around you. without another word, you push back your chair and get up, taking your coffee with you. the others’ voices fade behind you as you walk away, the tension in your chest tightening.

drew looks after you, brow furrowed, and glances at leila, who’s the only other person who even notices your behavior. confusion lines his features as he points to you while looking at her, like asking if she has any idea what’s up with you.

leila shakes her head in response, but glances up at you walking up the stairs in concern. drew seems unconvinced, but he nods, turning back to the table as you disappear upstairs. and you’re grateful for the distance, even if just for a moment.

Liked by theohain, oscareyre113, and others

y/n 🐚

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user1 divaa

user2 I MET U THE OTHER DAY YOU WERE SO NICE!!! 😭😭

↳ user3 YOU ARE SO LUCKY

user4 mother

gia.carinteri ure so cute

↳ y/n love u

leilajharmon angel baby

user5 Are you and Drew still together?

user6 y/n annual post i’m so grateful to be this early

user7 I miss Tempest :(

↳ user8 me too

user9 Why don’t you ever post Drew?

as you step into the pearl, the warm glow of the lights and the soft murmur of waves greet you. leila and theo lead the way, their laughter weaving through the air as they navigate the restaurant. you grip drew’s hand reluctantly as you follow the group.

the server guides you to a table outside, and your breath catches at the sight: the seaside view stretches out before you, waves crashing gently against the rocks. a delicate black metal arch hangs above the table, draped with twinkling lights that flicker like stars. a large, lush plant sways in the cool evening breeze, and you’re in awe.

you take your seat at the outer corner of the table, next to drew. the space feels too open, and you can feel his gaze on you as you fidget with your napkin, trying to ignore the way your stomach knots.

as the conversations flow around you, he leans in, propping his elbow on the table to speak to you privately. “what’s going on with you?” he asks, “and you can’t use the tired excuse anymore. you’ve had loads of coffee this morning.”

you glance at him, caught off guard by the directness of his question. but take a breath, searching for the right words. all you can manage is a small shrug. “i’m fine. seriously. don’t worry about it.”

you wish you could sound more convincing as the server approaches, placing a beautifully plated dish in front of you. relief washes over you; at least you can focus on the food for now.

theo suddenly clears his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “i just want to say how grateful i am that everyone is here to celebrate with us before i marry this beautiful woman,” he gestures to leila, who frowns as she presses a kiss to his cheek. as the table raises their glasses, you join in but feel somewhat disconnected, and shut out the rest of theo’s short speech until you’re able to eat.

as everyone digs in, gia reaches across the table, poking at her food. “y/n, do you want this?” she holds up a piece of grilled zucchini.

drew interjects before you can respond. “y/n doesn’t like zucchini,” he says casually as he cuts into his food, and you look at him with furrowed brows.

“oh, right.” gia laughs, realization hitting her. “i always mix you two up.” she turns to libby, who’s already reaching her plate across the table.

gia’s cheeks grow red as she giggles, and you continue to watch drew. your eyes meet briefly, but there’s an unspoken barrier between you, so you quickly look away, picking at your food instead.

eventually he even seems lost in thought, his gaze fixed on gia’s plate as he dazes out. roman, sitting across from you, catches on. he leans forward slightly, studying the table as if trying to read the tension, but you notice his motor.

“what are you doing?” you mouth to him.

roman raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. he glances at gia, then back at the rest of you, sensing the unspoken words hanging in the air. he knows something is up between you and drew but decides to keep quiet, because if no one else is saying anything about it, why should he?

and you understand exactly that. you roll your eyes before returning to your food.

“i could die for this garlic bread,” leila groans as she breaks a piece off and eats it. just from hearing it, theo reaches over to take a piece.

you hum as you reach your hand over, and drew grabs a piece for you when he realizes what you want. just as you sit back against your seat, a server from a nearby table accidentally brushes against you as they rushed by, a full glass of red wine slipping from their hand.

time seemed to slow as the glass tumbled, spilling its contents directly onto your lap. your mouth is gaped open and your eyes clamp shut as some of the wine bounces off and hits you directly in your face too.

the others gasp as they stare at you in horror.

“oh my g—” the server exhales, eyes wide with panic. “i am so sorry! i’m so, so sorry!”

you’re frozen for a moment, the cool liquid spreading across your dress, soaking through the fabric. you feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you, and there’s a rush of embarrassment washing over you.

“perfect,” you mutter under yourself as you try to maintain your composure. “just what i needed.”

the server continues to apologize profusely, almost stumbling over their words. “i’ll get you some napkins! please, let me help!”

“it’s fine,” you tell him, forcing a smile despite the discomfort. “just . . . give me a moment.”

as you stand up, the chair scrapes loudly against the ground, and you can feel the wine seeping down your torso. you quickly glance at drew, who looks alarmed, his fork mid-air.

“y/n,” gia calls to you, but you’re already moving toward the doors, desperate to find a restroom.

“just let her go,” roman says quietly, sensing the tension still simmering beneath the surface. gia is worried as she watches you disappear inside the building.

drew rises from his seat and tosses his napkin onto his seat, pulling his sleeves up before hurrying into the restaurant to find you. meanwhile the server is urgently trying to clean your seat but frowns at the stained floors.

just as you reach the restroom, he catches up, breathless and urgent. you feel like groaning when you feel like you just can’t catch a break. “y/n! hey, wait,” he calls out to you, sliding past a man who tries to return to his table. “sorry.”

you halt, irritation surging. “what? what, what? what do you want?” your voice is strong and sharp, turning around to face him.

he stops in front of you and winces at the stains on your clothes, and he glances up at the doors of the restrooms when he realizes you probably should clean it off your arms and chest at least.

“i know you’re upset, but—” he begins, concern lacing his words.

“upset? you think that’s all it is?” you snap back, meeting his gaze. you actually feel insane with every word you release. “you don’t understand what this feels like.”

he looks confused, searching your eyes for clarity. “what?”

taking a deep breath to calm yourself as best as you can, you continue, “do you have any idea how humiliating it is to notice everyone stop talking and feel their eyes on you? and the moment you do get up and walk past them, all you can hear are their murmurs and whispers about how— how embarrassing this all is? it’s suffocating!”

he opens his mouth to respond, but you press on, frustration spilling out. “and it’s not even just about tonight. it’s about how it feels to find out your own fake boyfriend is keeping secrets from you and has been this whole time.”

his expression freezes, shock washing over his face. “what? keeping what from you?”

you consider your choices for a second before stepping forward to reach into his back pocket, but there he reacts—as swift as ever. like he has something to hide. and he does.

he grabs a hold of his phone before you can and when you look up at him, you can feel the guilt in his eyes. but seeing that doesn’t hurt you as much as it does when you understand how fast he is to keep his phone away from you.

you take a step back and feel yourself falter. tears well in your eyes as you watch the way he grips his phone like suddenly it matters to him. it never has before. and you know why it does now.

“so you do know what i’m talking about,” your voice is quiet, a mix of betrayal in your tone that causes drew to reach out to you to say ‘wait’.

“when in the last year did you turn into a child?” you whisper to him, a faint scoff leaving your lips as you stand before him. you’re confronting him in a hallway of a restaurant for crying out loud.

“when you make a plan with your ex-girlfriend, you make sure there isn’t somebody already waiting for you back home. you don’t get close to me while we’re here and you don’t keep it from me the whole time . . . i mean, when were you going to tell me? or tell mila?”

he shakes his head slowly, “i’m getting close with you for the others, remember? that’s our plan.”

“then you shouldn’t hold me and hug me when it’s just us, drew.”

his heart drops at the sound of his name, the familiarity twisting into something more painful in this moment. “y/n—”

“no, don’t ‘y/n’ me,” you cut him off, your voice rising. “you can’t just play both sides. if you’re going to keep secrets from me, then don’t pretend like we’re something we’re not when the rules don’t apply. it’s clearly more than just showing out in front of leila and everyone when it’s just us.”

“but it’s not like that,” he insists, his eyes searching yours for understanding. “we’re trying to make this work for everyone else!”

“for everyone else? or for yourself?” you ask him. “because i swear to you, if i had known mila existed, never in this universe would i have ever agreed to the plan. because it hurts all three of us. do you understand?”

you wait for him to say something—anything, but you’re not surprised when he just stares at you with the same look in his eyes.

it’s too much. way too much. and you still have so many things to say.

are you betrayed that your ex-boyfriend has someone new? are you even able to be mad at that?

“was it worth it?” your voice cracks as you struggle to get the words out. “i keep asking myself, was it worth it to feel so alive, even if it led to this? or would it have been easier if this just never happened at all and we just told them instead of doing all of this for fucking nothing.”

as the last words escape your lips, you push the restroom door open, leaving drew in the hallway in silence.

girl .. ill make a better confrontation in the next part or something what the fuck. im compiling a whole list of his mistakes rn so i can actually be prepared for it too LMAO

@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @icaqttt @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains @toterry @wearemadeofstardust0 @maybankslover @itneverendshere @httpsdrewstarkey @cl4uus @ilyrafe @sunny1616 @pillowprincess4him @yootvi @matthewswifeeee @uwuemlwlrld @l4venderia @chenslucy

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 8

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The bus is speeding. Zigzagging dangerously through the city streets. You slide across the seats, clinging on for dear life as another veer sends you slamming against the window. Another wild turn and you fly in the other direction. 

This time, you hit another wall. Something just as hard and unmoving but different. The wall wraps you up around neck and waist. The man lifts you and carries you into the next scene. A zipping highway with wind whipping around your face. You cover your ears and turn as a flash limns to your left. You turn to face down the headlights and scream. 

You crash into the dirt of the forest. The hum of crickets and sway of trees tickles your brain. He stands above you, staring down at you, not speaking, just watching. You don’t know what he wants. Why doesn’t he just tell you what he wants? 

You wake with a start at the sharp tweak of your nipple. You’re flat on your back as his teeth squish your flesh and you yipe. You grab his golden hair and try to push his hand away. Your thighs crush around his large calloused hand, his fingers pressed roughly to your cunt. 

The front of the night gown is pulled open below your tits and the bottom rumpled to your stomach. His is rigid and unyielding, as he was in your dreams, yet the last time you saw him, he’d been less than. 

He doesn’t flinch as you writhe and whine against his unbidden touched. He bends his fingers, sinking them past your entrance as he bites down on the tender flesh of your chest. He snarls around you, like an animal.  

“Please,” you whimper and press against his crown, “it hurts.” 

He growls louder and nibbles until you squeak and squeal. You dig your heels into the bed and arch your back. He pushes into you until the heel of his hand is against you. Your thighs clamp around him until the flesh hurts from the tension. 

He rams his fingers in and out. You exclaim and reach past him, grasping for his arm. He snaps his teeth down and you spasm, throwing your hands up. You lay flat, terrified, and let him keep going. 

He shoves his fingers in to their limit, jamming them into you until your pelvis aches. It’s as if each thrust is an effort to get deeper, to break the resistance of your body. You ball your fists as tears overflow and you squeeze your eyes shut. 

In, out, in out. Each move aches. His other hand crawls up the bed and locks around your throat. He lifts himself over you. Your eyes snap open as he glares down at you. He keeps you pinned as he rocks his hand harder and harder. 

You croak and whine as he watches you. His brows furrow and he stops as his fingers bottom out once more. His eyes search yours. He slowly pulls back. You shudder and he lingers along your entrance. He dips back in, just as meanly as before. 

You yipe and slap his wrist. You latch on and gnash your teeth, “it hurts.” 

His eyes narrow and he tilts his head. He shifts and looks down at his hand. He rears back again and pauses before he pokes back inside. This time slower but still painfully. You bite your lip, 

“Please,” you trail your hand up his arm, feeling the hard muscle, “please,” you rub his shoulder. “I’ll be good. I’ll be good.” 

He slips back to his lower knuckles and delves in, gentler, as gently as it seems he can. The tension in his muscles is immoveable. He’s wrought through to the core. 

He does it again. His gaze stays on his hand as he watches himself. He slips his hand away from your throat and plants it on the bed. He sits up, focusing between your legs as he moves his fingers in and out.  

Despite your fear, you slicken around him. The roughened skin along the heel of his hand steadily brushes your clit as he tilts in and out. You blow out between your lips and groan. You shouldn’t like it, it still burns, but not so bad. Your body does not abide the fear that clouds in your head. 

Your pelvis knots up around his intrusion and your stomach clutches. You puff out as you push your head down into the flat pillow. You stretch your arm down the bed and dig your nails into the bed. You feel the clustering of nerves, pinging off each other as the tempo of his he trusts changes. 

He presses his hand flat on your pelvis as he growls. You hear your body clinging to him, sopping as he pushes in and out. You close your eyes again. Shame sears through you, scalding your flesh and surging in your veins. You turn your head and bite down until your jaw throbs. 

He hums, several times, in time with your hitching breaths. Curious drones as he works his hand against you. He moves his hand to grip the bunched fabric of the nightgown. Your thighs tingle and the sudden burst of energy has you spasming and squirming. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” the pathetic mewls trickle from you. 

You keen and draw out the strained notes. He mimics them with the motion of his hand until finally you are quiet and he is still. You quiver and open your eyes. He drags his hand from your cunt and holds it up, examining the slickness smeared across his palm and shining around his fingers. 

He holds it up for you to see. Your lashes flutter and you touch your cheeks in embarrassment. He brings his hand close as he considers it then licks away the sheen on his palm. You cringe but don’t move or make a noise. You’re too terrified. How much else will he do to you? 

He laps clean his fingers and knuckles. Almost mechanically. Thoroughly. When he’s done, he turns and lowers himself stiffly to his back. You see the bob of his own arousal at the edge of your vision. 

He feels between your and grabs your hand. You tremble as he lifts your arm and pulls it across him. He guides your fingers to his twitching erection. He lets out a whimper. Your stomach plucks as you close your grip around him. 

You don’t dare deny him. 

[inkspiredwriting]

Countless cups of coffee

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Five Hargreeves stared at the half-empty cup of coffee on the kitchen table. The steam curled into the air, mingling with the morning light filtering through the curtains. It was a quiet moment, one that he had come to cherish in his otherwise tumultuous life. The coffee was strong, just the way he liked it, but it wasn’t the caffeine that he looked forward to. It was the company.

Across from him sat Y/n, her hands wrapped around her own mug. Her eyes were still sleepy, her hair tousled from the night before. Five found solace in these simple moments, the world reduced to just the two of them and the warmth of their morning brew.

“I think this is the best part of my day,” Y/n said softly, breaking the silence. Her voice was like a soft hum, comforting and familiar.

Five smiled, taking a sip of his coffee. “Mine too,” he replied.

Their lives were often chaotic—filled with timelines, apocalypses, and the never-ending struggles of time travel. But here, in the soft glow of the morning, it was just them. The rest of the world could wait.

Their relationship had always been complicated, fraught with the trials of Five’s time-hopping existence and the burdens they both carried. Yet, somehow, they always found their way back to each other. Coffee had become their ritual, a way to ground themselves amid the madness.

Y/n reached across the table, her fingers brushing against Five’s. “Do you ever wish things were different?” she asked, her eyes searching his.

Five considered her question, his gaze lingering on the way their hands touched. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But then I think about how lucky I am to have you, even in this crazy life.”

Y/n’s smile was soft, her eyes filled with understanding. “I feel the same way. These moments... they make everything worth it.”

The peace of their morning was suddenly shattered by a loud crash from the other room. Five sighed, knowing exactly who it was. The Hargreeves household was never short of chaos, and his siblings had a knack for disrupting even the calmest of moments.

“Klaus!” Five called out, irritation creeping into his voice. “What did you break this time?”

Klaus appeared in the doorway, looking sheepish. “Just a vase. I was... uh, redecorating.”

Y/n laughed, shaking her head. “You and your redecorating.”

Klaus grinned, unrepentant. “Hey, if you guys didn’t want chaos, you wouldn’t live here.”

Five rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. Despite the constant disruptions, he wouldn’t trade his family for anything. And he knew Y/n felt the same way. She had become part of their crazy world, fitting in seamlessly with the dysfunction.

As the day went on, Five found himself caught up in the usual whirl of events—family squabbles, and the occasional existential crisis. Y/n was right there with him, her presence a steady anchor in the storm.

By evening, they were both exhausted, sinking onto the couch together. Five’s mind was still buzzing with the day’s events, but Y/n’s hand on his arm brought him back to the present.

“You’re thinking too much again,” she said, her voice a gentle tease.

Five sighed, leaning his head back against the couch. “Can’t help it. There’s always something to worry about.”

Y/n shifted closer, her fingers tracing patterns on his arm. “Then let’s not think for a while,” she suggested. “Just be here, with me.”

Five looked at her, taking in the warmth of her gaze, the softness of her expression. He nodded, his heart feeling lighter. “I can do that.”

They spent the rest of the evening in comfortable silence, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten. It was in these quiet moments, surrounded by the familiarity of home, that Five realized how much he cherished what they had.

As they sat together, the memories of their journey played through Five’s mind. Their first encounter, the struggles they had faced, and the way they always found their way back to each other. It was like their relationship was written in the stars, no matter how many times the timelines tried to tear them apart.

“Hey, Five?” Y/n’s voice broke into his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Promise me something,” she said, her gaze steady. “No matter what happens, we’ll always find our way back to this. To us.”

Five nodded, his heart swelling with emotion. “I promise,” he said, his voice firm. “No matter what.”

The next morning, Five woke to the smell of coffee brewing. He smiled, stretching as he got out of bed. Y/n was already in the kitchen, her back to him as she poured their cups.

“Morning,” he greeted her, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

Y/n leaned into his embrace, her smile evident in her voice. “Morning. Ready for another day of chaos?”

Five chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “As long as I have my coffee and you, I can handle anything.”

Y/n turned in his arms, her eyes sparkling. “Then we’re set.”

They took their coffee to the table, savoring the warmth and the quiet. It was another day, another chance to face the world together. And in that moment, with the scent of coffee in the air and the person he loved by his side, Five knew that together, they could face anything.

Years later, Five and Y/n still held onto their morning ritual. Life continued to throw challenges their way, but their love remained a constant, unbreakable bond. Over countless cups of coffee, they built a life together, finding strength in each other’s presence.

And as they sipped their coffee, sharing dreams and fears, they knew that no matter where time took them, they would always find their way back to each other. Their love, like their morning ritual, was a testament to their enduring bond, a promise kept through every twist and turn of their extraordinary lives.

[gyubakeries]

your work is so so sooo good. you write angst and fluff so well wow. could i please request a similar drabble with seungkwan? any plot is great, just the same loving doting boyfriend as in your seungcheol drabble

𝗯𝗮𝗻𝗱-𝗮𝗶𝗱 | b.sk

a/n: hi anon! im so glad you liked the seungcheol drabble <3 thanks for requesting this!! kwan is so bf material... this wasnt really hard to write lmaoo. hope you like this!

word count: 2.2k contents: seungkwan x afab!reader , idol!seungkwan , waitress!reader , domestic fluff , mentions of injury (just a small cut) , a little angst , but we get comfort so thank you kwan , set right after nana tour , seungkwan being a pro-nagger

"y/n, just go home," your co-worker, hyeri, sighs. "i'll cover for you."

"i'm fine, hyeri," you shake your head, continuing to wipe down the empty tables.

"you look dead from the lack of sleep," hyeri counters, taking the cleaning rag away from you. "i could see those dark circles under your eyes from miles away."

"are you telling me i look like a panda?" you gasp, and hyeri shoots you an unimpressed look.

"go home, or i'm calling seungkwan up," hyeri threatens, and your eyes widen at the mention of your boyfriend's name.

"are you crazy? don't say that out loud! you never know when someone is listening!" you whisper-yell. dating an idol from a famous kpop group was a tough job, especially when their fans could be lurking anywhere.

"there's literally no one here," hyeri points out. "because it's closing time. now go home before i kick your ass."

"but-"

"non negotiable," hyeri cuts you off. "you've closed every night for the last two weeks, so let me do it now. go home and get some rest, y/n. i'm worried about you."

your shoulders slump. you hated that hyeri had to do your job, but a tiny part of you felt relieved to be going home and finally getting some shut-eye.

"thank you so much, i'll treat you to lunch soon," you say. "at the expensive hot-pot place you like."

hyeri squeals with excitement, and you can only smile at her antics before heading out to the back of the restaurant, grabbing your things, and leaving for the day.

it's almost midnight by the time you're stepping into your apartment. you immediately head into your bedroom to put your phone on charge, it having died sometime during the day while you were working. you quickly go into the bathroom to take a shower, eager to get clean and finally hit the bed, unaware of the text messages lighting up your screen while you shower.

once you're dressed in comfortable clothes, you tuck yourself into bed. you wait for sleep to claim you as soon as your head hits the pillow, but..... it doesn't.

you lie awake, staring at the ceiling blankly. you feel so tired, but your eyes refuse to shut. the frustration overwhelms you, threatening to make unshed tears spill from your eyes. just when you thought things couldn't get worse, your stomach starts rumbling loudly.

groaning because of this unfair situation the universe decided to put you in when all you wanted was to sleep, you get out of bed and walk into the kitchen, hoping to make some ramen for yourself.

you open the cupboard to fetch some instant ramen after putting a pot of water on the stove to boil. while waiting for the water, you take out an egg and some green onion from your fridge.

the ramen noodles go into the water and you take out a knife to chop up some green onions, just to be fancy. just then, a wave of tiredness washes over you, making your eyelids droop.

you yawn, carelessly cutting the green onion. a combination of your exhaustion and your vision blurring with tears as you yawn again makes you miscalculate where your knife lands, and in the blink of an eye, there's a gash on your index finger, bright red blood oozing out of it.

"shit!" you exclaim, rushing to the kitchen sink to run some cold water over your finger. in your panic, you barely register the door to your apartment opening and your boyfriend walking in.

"y/n! i'm ho- shit, what happened?" seungkwan gasps, seeing you hunched over the kitchen sink. he rushes to you, dropping his bag to the floor. he nearly screams too when he sees the cut on your finger and the blood spilling from it.

"wait here, i'll get the first-aid kit," he snaps into action, but you stop him.

"switch the stove off, or the next mess we'll have to clean is the ramen," you instruct, pointing at the ramen bubbling dangerously on the stove.

seungkwan does as you say, and then rushes into the bedroom to find the first-aid kit. he's back in the kitchen in no time, holding a box of band-aids, some cotton, and.... a sharpie?

the cotton turns out to be drenched in warm water, which he uses to clean the wound gently. he then takes a band-aid out of the box and carefully wraps it around your finger, making sure to cover the cut entirely. and then comes the role of the sharpie.

seungkwan pulls the injured finger closer to him and takes off the cap of the marker. his eyebrows furrow with concentration as he brings the pen to the band-aid, drawing something onto it.

when he releases your finger, you see that he's drawn the face of a puppy onto the band-aid. your heart melts.

"kwan, that's so cute!" you squeal, momentarily forgetting about whatever had just happened. and also the fact that your boyfriend was an expert at nagging.

"yah, y/n, don't you think you should be more careful?" seungkwan scolds lightly. "what if the cut was deeper? or your finger got chopped off? what if i hadn't come home at that time? you didn't even know i was going to come! do you know how worried i was when you didn't read my texts?"

your smile is quickly replaced by a frown, and you suddenly feel tired again. seungkwan notices the abrupt change in your mood, and immediately feels bad for scolding you.

"babe, i'm sorry," he apologizes, coming closer to you to take your hands in his. "i was just really worried, you know?"

you only nod in response. you weren't upset because of seungkwan, but because of how pathetic and monotonous your life had become over the last few weeks.

"y/n, talk to me," seungkwan tries, not liking the distant look in your eyes. he could also tell that you were tired from your pale and sullen face. "is everything okay?"

his concerned tone feels like a hug to all the turmoil in your head, and that prompts the first few tears to escape your eyes. you look up at seungkwan, and his distressed expression only upsets you more, making you sob louder.

seungkwan doesn't hesitate for a second, pulling you against his chest in a warm embrace. you inhale deeply, taking in the scent of his cologne that never fails to soothe you.

"how about we lay down?" seungkwan suggests after a while. you nod again, so he carefully guides the both of you towards your bedroom, gently pulling you down next to him on the bed, his arms never leaving your waist.

"do you want to talk about what's been bothering you? was it what i said?" seungkwan asks once your sobs had reduced to sniffles.

"i'm tired." you state. it's the truth, but it's far more complex than just tiredness.

"of course you are. not sleeping for a week does that to people," seungkwan replies in a matter-of-factly tone.

"how did you know that?" you ask, genuinely surprised.

"hyeri texted me earlier. i would have gone to pick you up after your shift, but my dance practice was still on," he answers. "so, what's been up with you? missed me so much you couldn't sleep?"

he said it as a joke, but the words strike a sensitive spot.

"i did," you answer truthfully. "i missed you a lot. it felt like hell without you. and i'm used to months of not seeing you, but this time we couldn't even text because you were busy filming, and it's ridiculous of me to complain about it because it's literally your job, but i missed you a lot. i tried sleeping but i couldn't. not without you texting me a stupid meme vernon sent you before nagging at me to go to sleep. not without you there to hold me. it was torture, kwan."

seungkwan's eyes widen slightly at your rant. he knew long distance was tough, and you two had been through a lot together, but he knew something else was bothering you. you weren't the type to break down this easily.

"i missed you too, babe," seungkwan sighs, pulling you closer to him. "i hated not being able to see your face, especially after i promised to meet you after i came back from japan."

"it's okay, kwannie, i understand," you knew that seungkwan himself wasn't aware of the surprise trip to italy, so you can't really blame him. he also needed that week-long break, especially after having worked so hard.

"thank you, love," seungkwan mutters into your hair, his fingers gently massaging your scalp to alleviate some tension. "but there's something else that's troubling you. i noticed that you were always worrying about something for a few months. you seemed aloof, and i tried to bring it up, but there was never time. what's up?"

"i feel like i'm stuck," you explain. "my life isn't moving forward. it's the same routine of go to work, clean tables, serve food, come home and do chores, and then repeat. i've wanted to do so much more, but i'm just stuck here."

seungkwan's heart breaks at the exhaustion in your voice. you had told him about how you've always wanted to have your own restaurant, which was the only reason you were working in a restaurant yourself.

"babe, it's okay to feel tired sometimes," he comforts you. "there are times when even i feel like i'm stuck in a rut. go to the studio to record, practice room to practice choreo, attend interviews, and repeat it all again. at the start, even i had doubted getting myself into this career, but i realized how deep my passion for music was, which is why i stayed. and the members too, of course."

"i know you love food and cooking, so just stick to your passion. don't give up on it. your big break will come one day. plus, you know mingyu and i will gladly fund your restaurant. you just have to ask, baby."

seungkwan's words have this ability to heal all your wounds. they're like a soothing balm to your sore body, and you're so thankful to have such a caring and loving person in your life.

"if i start my restaurant, i want to do it myself," you crack a small smile. "you're always free to help with the interior design, though."

"thank god, your interior choices are.... questionable," seungkwan teases.

"hey! you can't say that to me!" you pout, but seungkwan doesn't relent.

"seriously? do i have to remind you of that hideous statue of a chihuahua you bought? because you thought it was cute?" he challenges, raising an eyebrow at you.

"it was cute, okay?" you say defensively. "plus, i gave it away because you refused to enter my apartment if it stayed!"

"there was nothing cute about that abomination," seungkwan shudders. "it was a chihuahua wearing red pants and an orange bow-tie. anyways, my point is still valid. i'd be glad to help you design your restaurant."

"thank you, kwan," you smile, leaning up to kiss him. "you always know what to say to make me feel better. how do you do it?"

"i'm magical, baby," seungkwan shoots an over-exaggerated wink at you, making you burst into laughter. "can i say something even better? i'll get all the members to come to your restaurant and we'll post it on our instagram. that kind of publicity would boost your restaurant to the big leagues instantly."

"sure, baby, you can bring all the guys," you nod, endeared by how enthusiastic seungkwan was. you've had a lot of people doubting your plans for your future career as it had bleak prospects, but having seungkwan by your side had reassured you to follow your dreams. he had never lost faith in you, even on days when you yourself gave up on your goals, and it had motivated you to a great extent.

"you've been by my side through everything, y/n," seungkwan whispers softly, looking into your eyes with nothing but adoration and love. "i can't wait to see you grow and become the brightest star too. i'll be there by your side, just like you've been there for me."

"seungkwan- i-" you're at a loss for words. his words are so genuine, and you really don't know what you'd done in your past life to have someone love you so entirely. "i don't even know what to say."

"maybe start with, 'oh my god, seungkwan, you're the best boyfriend ever!' or maybe even 'you're so cute it makes me want to cook my special ramen for you.' any one of those works really," seungkwan says cheekily, and you playfully slap his chest, followed by a loud yawn from the both of you.

"let's have ramen for breakfast tomorrow," you mumble sleepily.

"i gave you another option...." seungkwan sulks jokingly, making you laugh.

"oh my god, seungkwan, you're the best boyfriend ever!" you giggle, speaking in a shrill voice to sound like one of the many fans who fawn over seungkwan. humming with satisfaction, seungkwan presses a loud smooch to your forehead, squeezing you tightly, and then releasing you. your bodies never stray too far away though, always closely intertwined with each other.

and when you wake up the next morning, well-rested and to the sound of seungkwan singing along to girl group songs in the living room while cleaning, you forget about everything that had been weighing you down.

the band-aid on your finger covered the wound on your finger that healed slowly, and seungkwan's love was the band-aid on your heart, healing something he never broke.

- fin.

[cellophaine]

Chapter VI: OUT

Masterlist

Pairing: Art Donaldson x F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff. Negative thoughts due to toxic parents.

Author's Note: Sorry for the late upload! I fell into a rut after the last update, and thought I could make deadline since this chapter is shorter. I hope you will enjoy this little intermission before things kick into gear in the next chapter!

GIF Source: @/roranicuspond

You woke up around noon on the 27th. Disoriented and starved, you rummaged through the cupboards for a quick meal. You scarfed the instant noodles down in silence. There was no taste, only texture processed in your distracted mind, but it was enough to keep your stomach from gurgling. Afterward, you turned your phone on to find missed calls, voice mails, and texts accumulated in a concerning number. Most of them were from Art. His earnest concerns and their urgency burgeoned with each message, and so did your guilt as you read them. Remorse festered and spread through your skin like a cling film as you listened to his voicemails. Art just wanted to know if you were okay, and here you were, not responding.

What could you say? You dwelled on each hypothetical response; you typed them out just to delete them. Your eyes followed the characters as they slowly disappeared, watching each word withdraw itself behind the blinking cursor until you were left with an empty field again. It felt wrong, not reassuring Art, but a part of you believed it was for the best. What would happen if he found out about the real you? What if you hurt him just like how you hurt your family? He should be protected from someone like you.

You sent a short message to Sophie, letting her know that you were okay. Fighting the urge to text Art again, you put the phone face down on the coffee table, ignoring the part of your mind that craved his attention and soothing words. You knew he would know what to say; he would tell you what you wanted to hear. But it was not his responsibility to give you that.

You were still in yesterday's clothes, and the faint smell of sweat was embedded in the soft fabric. Too paralyzed and tired to change, you fell asleep on the couch and woke up a few hours later. The sun had gone down, and the streetlights had gone up, casting its yellowish glow into the darkened apartment. You sat up, your movement slow and sluggish as a splitting headache started to pound in your head. There was an imprint of the cushion on one side of your heated cheek as you wiped the drool off. You reached for your phone, your eyes squinted at the artificial glow and noticed that there was another text from Art.

I'm worried about you. Can you call me?

Ignoring his text again, you returned the phone to the table and diverted your attention to the DVD collection that Ashley owned. After putting on a random movie, you sourced for some snacks, and ended up stuffing your face with chips until your throat parched. The barely processed chips left your body not too long after the movie was over. You hunched over the toilet, dry-heaving into it as your insides twisted and worked itself into a complicated knot. Your body ran hot, yet you couldn't help but shiver. Your body was leaden with fatigue, and all you wanted to do was to indulge in the comfort of your bed. After rinsing your mouth, you dragged your feet to your room and fell into your bed, your body exhausted from the effort.

/

The morning came, and you didn't feel much better. Repulsed by your own smell, you took a quick shower. Droplets of water drenched the back of your cotton shirt as you cleaned the mess from last night. The table was wiped down, the crumbs were swept up, and the dirty dishes were placed in the sink for later. You layered a sweatshirt over what you had on and headed out with the trash bag. After discarding it in the dumpster behind the building, you made your way to the park nearby. Walking along the lake's edge, you shuddered as a cold breeze whispered on your exposed skin. You crossed your arms, snuggling deeper into yourself. The winter here was nothing compared to the one in your hometown. Back home, the cold was biting and cruel, always hungry for any vulnerability. Had it always been that way? Or was it morphed and changed into something you could easily recognize? Your relationship with your parents was bleak and apathetic. It had modified your perception of home with a certain cynicism that was hard to let go of. You were grateful for the warmer weather here. It was a welcoming start.

You found a bench, brushed the fallen leaves off of the cold iron and sat down. The park's vacancy made you feel small and insignificant, yet, at the same time, safe and at peace. Right here, right now, you were no one, and your actions didn't have consequences. You could dwell on the simple act of existing, doing nothing, and that would be fine. You could pretend that in this little pocket of space and time, the outside world ceased to exist. In this undisturbed chasm, you were not suspended in your own mental struggle. You were not the source of your parents' distress. You didn't have to worry about how you were perceived by others, and whatever label they might want to imprint on you didn't matter. You felt a familiar prick in your nose again, and you sniffed hard, hopefully, to stave off the feeling.

Hunger curled in your stomach, reminding you that you hadn't eaten. It was 2:30 PM. You left the park shortly after and stopped by a convenience store. You walked home with a cold-cut sandwich and a soft drink, figuring groceries could wait until tomorrow.

From the gate, you could see a silhouette at the door to your building. The familiar blue scarf hung loosely around the arched neck that you had silently admired on multiple occasions. The dishevelled blond head was bowed, shielding their face from your eyes, but you didn't need a closer look to know. The gate rattled softly, and he perked up. You locked eyes, and your heart seized in your chest. Your name sounded like the sweetest note in his voice. Art stood up and crossed the distance between the gate and the door in a few strikes. You felt the pull as well, but there was a hesitation that slowed your steps. But that didn't stop Art from reaching you. He wrapped you in a tight hug, pressing his body to yours. Your arms hung limply to the sides. His mouth was right next to your ear when he spoke, and you felt his worries deep in the marrow of your bones.

"I've been calling and you haven't answered. I was so worried about you. Are you okay?"

You inhaled deeply, and your senses were filled with Art. The softness of his coat, the solid frame of his body, the warm scent of his skin. You closed your eyes, revelled in his presence, relieved in the comfort you had so desperately needed. There was so much you wanted to say, but they failed to rise above your bewilderment.

"Aren't you supposed to be in Vermont?"

Art pressed you further into himself.

"Yes, but I don't care about that right now. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

At that, he pulled away but still kept you within reach. An incredulous, almost accusatory look was evident as he explained.

"You didn't answer my texts, or calls, or voicemails. Made me think something bad happened to you."

You shook your head vehemently.

"No, nothing happened. I'm sorry that I made you come all this way, but I'm fine."

You tried to step out of his embrace, but his hold on you was unwavering. You braved a smile, your hand patted reassuringly on his forearm.

"You shouldn't be here. You should go back to Vermont and enjoy your vacation with your family."

Art stared at you, and you felt exposed under his gaze. For a long moment, he said nothing. The need to fill in the silence was too much, but you fought against it.

"Did you know that you're not good at lying?"

His voice was low yet piercing. His words mirrored your sister's from a few days before. Your brows furrowed, your eyes strained to keep the tears at bay.

"That's so weird. My sister said the same thing."

Your voice wavered, and your attempt at a smile faltered. Before you could give in, you forced yourself out of Art's hold and beckoned him to follow you.

"Let's go inside."

/

You locked the door behind you while Art looked around the apartment from the entryway, shrugging off his coat and scarf and leaving them on top of his carry-on. You felt relieved that you cleaned the place a little before you left. Art's eyes followed you, and you pretended that you didn't notice that as you put the bag of food on the counter.

"Do you want anything? Water? Food?"

Art followed you to the kitchen.

"No, I don't want anything. I want to know what happened, and why you're here."

You busied yourself with unpacking the small bag. Art came and stood by you so close that you could feel his warmth.

"Come on. Talk to me."

"It's … complicated."

"Then start slowly. From the beginning. Or give me a summary. Anything."

Only then did you turn to look at him.

"Why do you want to know so badly? This doesn't have anything to do with you."

"It has everything to do with me because I care about you. I like you."

His admission was like honey to your tea, making your unjust indignation resolve rapidly. You softened your tone.

"I … I like you, too. That's more of a reason why I shouldn't tell you."

"That's bullshit. If you really liked me, you wouldn't shut me out like this. It's unfair."

"It's not up to you to decide–"

He cut you off, making you swallow the rest of everything that you wanted to say.

"After all this time we've spent together, I feel like you're still hiding yourself from me. Every time I ask about your family, you always turn the question back to me."

Art held both of your hands in his, caressing your skin with his thumb.

"You listened to me when I wanted to vent about my parents. You even came to my match even though you had class. Let me take care of you like you've done with me."

"I had no idea that you felt that way. But … I can't."

You looked away from him, your head dipped to look at the floor, but his gentle grip on your chin made you confront him.

"Why not?"

"I don't deserve it."

"Why not?"

"Because … because …"

The more Art pushed, the less certain you became of your self-perception. Everything your parents had said about you came rushing back, and your mind obeyed their command as if you were still under their authority.

"I'm an ungrateful, awful person who's selfish. I will hurt you."

A faithful verbatim of what you were told. Art's face was a mix of everything, but what stood out the most was a contained anger. For your sake, you supposed.

"Did your parents say that to you?"

You nodded.

"They're wrong."

"And what do you know about me? I think my parents know me much, much better than you do."

"I might not know you the way your parents do, but they don't know you the way I do either."

You exhaled hard, unable to come up with a rebuttal. Deep down, you wanted to believe Art, wanted to believe that there was still at least one good thing about you. Here he was, imploring you to confide in him. And you stopped holding back. The tears came quickly, and steadily. They were hot on your cheeks, but they couldn't compare to the warmth that he enveloped you with. He pulled you into himself, his back bent to be closer to you. You rose on your tiptoes to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. Art ran a hand along your spine and woven it into your hair, holding your head where it lay, while the other wound around your waist, anchoring you to him. Even when the sobs reverberated through your frame, he absorbed them, his hold steadfast and strong.

/

After you had calmed down, Art led you to the couch. You told him about what happened. Art listened, not once interrupted you. It was one more person who knew about what you went through, but it was Art. Despite the exposure and sheer vulnerability that you had subjected yourself to, you had never felt safer.

Your eyes drooped, and it started to get harder to disguise your yawn. ARt beckoned you to put your head on his lap, and you didn't fight against it. His hand caressed your hair, drawing all the tension and easing you into a state of repose. You tried to keep your eyes open, so you asked him a question.

"Have you ever felt like … you were an inconvenience to your family?"

His hand slowed on your hair, but it didn't stop. It took him a moment to answer.

"All the time."

Your hand on his knee squeezed, expressing your sympathy.

"Sometimes, I think my parents put me into Mark Rebellato just to get rid of me."

You nuzzled your face against his thigh; the denim felt rough in the right way on your skin.

"I'm sorry. For what it's worth, I don't think you are."

You ended up falling asleep to the feeling of his gentle caress on your hair. Later on, when you were in a different state of consciousness, Art's lap was replaced by a pillow. You faintly heard the sound of dishes running in the kitchen. It was the last thing your head processed before you were pulled back into darkness.

You woke up a while later to the dead silence of the apartment. There was no sound of him. Almost immediately, you were filled with regret and anger for oversharing, for being so carelessly vulnerable to Art, who didn't deserve this burden. You dragged yourself into the kitchen for some water and found that the dishes were cleaned and put away. You felt powerless to a wave of emotions that started to build, and you bit on the insides of your mouth in an attempt to control it. The door to the apartment unlocked, startling you, and Art came through with a bag in hand.

"You're awake."

"You're … back."

You regarded him, your eyes widened in disbelief. He walked around to get to the kitchen, placing the bag on the counter.

"You seem surprised."

Art spared you a look of amusement.

"I thought I sent you running already."

He closed the distance between you and pulled you to him. Art kissed your temple, then placed his chin on your head.

"It'll take much more than that for me to run away."

He let you go, and returned to the bag he brought in with him.

"I bought us some food. I figured you needed something other than that sandwich."

He pointed to the sad plastic box that was still on the counter.

"To be fair, I was planning on doing groceries tomorrow. So, if you could hit the pause on the judgement …"

Every day after that, until school started, you were never apart for too long. Art essentially lived with you and kept you company throughout what would be a lonely week. He showed you his dorm room, which was a neat and clean single. Each day seemed to be better than the last, and it didn't slow down. Life felt like it was yours again. There was a sweet naivety that you possessed, that things could last like this forever as long as you cared for it with all of your heart. But your innocence was the hard-earned lesson that would come back to wreck you.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! I'd love to read your thoughts on the story!

For updates, please follow @cellophaine-archives

[clairewritesandrambles]

Hello, it’s my birthday today, and I was wondering if you would be willing to write a Scott blurb for me about anything at all really 😅 I’m going to be asking Ivy the same question, as I want to see what you both have to say 💕 thank you (smut? 👀)

Oh my god, happy birthday!!!

I feel like this is the perfect excuse to talk about Scott eating pussy, because he definitely makes birthday sex completely about you. That man eats pussy for one reason, and one reason only: To have his ego stroked when he sees you being a complete mess for him.

WARNING: Not beta'd, sorry for any mistakes

NSFW below cut, 18+ only:

You tugged on Scott's hair as he pinched a nipple, the sensation combining with his work between your legs to make you buck your hips in pleasure. He groaned in response to the movement, moving his head to slip his tongue deeper into you. The action made his nose bump into your clit, the overstimulation of the time he has spent between your legs making the tiny contact send shockwaves through your body.

"Scott, fuck, please. Please, come fuck me." You breathed, sinking into the pillows in exhaustion. Scott had already pulled two orgasms from you with his mouth and fingers, his current movements showcasing his intent to coax a third one.

Scott hummed against you, sending vibrations to your clit that had you gasping in response. "You can give me one more, baby. After you let me taste you again, then I'll fuck you into the mattress since you've been such a good girl. Isn't that right, baby?"

Despite how exhausted you were, you nodded at his words. The feeling of his fingers pumping into you was too delicious to deny, your answer reinforced by the praises that dripped from his lips at the sight of your nodding head.

Scott became impossibly more determined in his movements, his fingers moving faster as he curled them to find that delicious spot in you with every thrust. His tongue licked at you, his groans sending vibrations to it as he pushed further into you with his mouth. When he felt you begin to clench around his fingers, pleas for him falling freely from your lips, Scott wrapped his arm around your waist. He pulled you even closer to his face, his strength keeping you in place while he ate you like his life depended on it.

You peered down at him between your thighs at the sound of muffled encouragement around your core, the sight before you throwing you over the edge. Scott's eyes were closed as he desperately ate you out, his dark hair curling over his forehead.

Scott groaned deeply in pleasure as he licked at your arousal, not stopping his motions until you were begging for a break. He left one last kiss on your clit before making his way up your body, stopping to suck on your sweet spots to entice more strangled noises from you.

"Taste so fucking good, baby," he groans, lips falling towards yours. "Have some for yourself." He closes the gap, tongue licking into your mouth. You moaned at the taste of yourself, hand cradling his cheek as you deepened the kiss. "You did so well for me," he cooed, hips moving to align the tip of his cock with your entrance. "You're gonna come that many times on my cock, got it?" You didn't know if you could survive another three orgasms, but the look in Scott's eyes was all the encouragement you needed.

"Good girl," he praised, slowly sinking into you as you stretched around him.

[bonezonejpg]

୨୧ : INTRODUCING MY INK VARIANT INX

Based off of my personal experiences. A year ago I was in a pretty bad headspace and had created him to help cope with my situation. Came upon him again and decided to make a ref+ revamp !! Anyways !! Some info about him <3 Inx deals with Chronic anxiety and Derealization. Despite the fact that knows the world around him is real, he struggles to fight with those irrational thoughts that its in fact not real. He feels like he's in a dream while existing which causes him to panic, and will get intrusive thoughts about him or others around him not being real. These intrusive thoughts can trigger panic attacks which happen to him frequently. Instead of using close range attacks, he specifically sticks with using long range attack as much as possible. Getting close to his targets causes him to panic, and most of the time he's not in a calm enough headspace to react on time and make strategic battle decisions. He tries his best to support Dream and Blue from the sidelines. He shrunk from stress.. LOL Dream is one of his comfort people. The two of them now live together and he spends most if not all of his time with Dream. When not around the other he can panic or go into spirals which take a very severe toll on his mental health. Because of this Dream makes sure to stay close to him and tries his best to accommodate him. He does have medication he uses sometimes, but he only uses it when having severe panic attacks. The viles are extremely hard to continuously manufacture so he has instead developed coping skills to deal with his issues best he can instead of taking his "medication" 24/7. The viles basically help him calm down and sort of reset his magic nervous system or whatever it would be so his panicking starts to cease. It doesn't last forever, but its a really good feeling when he takes it and it reminds him of how he used to be before dealing with all of this. These issues completely popped out of nowhere and the root cause is unknown by him and others around him. He had a thought that the world "wasn't real" and then got triggered into his first panic attack which then spread out into the issues he now has. [Literally exactly what happened to me except I'm okay now! Well sort of, not the same but def a LOT better :3] His eye will flash a bunch of different colors when he's about to have a panic attack or having one. This is a telltale sign that his stress has pretty much reached his limit and he's at his breaking point. He will leak and spill Ink from his mouth when trying to express the thoughts going on in his mind or his emotions. This is because his anxiety causes him to assume others will think he is annoying or attention seeking so he literally becomes choked up on his own words. Inx deals with constant paranoia that no one likes him and everyone finds him to be a burden. Despite others and himself trying to reassure himself, the sinking feeling that no one truly loves him also resides deep inside his bones. He doesn't get a lot of his sleep because of his derealization and anxiety. Constantly being in a state of panic makes it quite hard for him to rest because his body can't calm down enough to actually relax so he can fall asleep. He usually can only rest when with another person with some TV playing, or when he is so exhausted he literally cannot stay awake anymore.

Inx still enjoys to draw and visit AUs, it just has become quite difficult now because of the amount of stress he deals with. Obviously this has caused him to become pretty depressed so he has a really hard time picking up his hobbies, but he still attempts to use them as coping mechanisms even if he can't really make anything detailed anymore. Inx will constantly think about how he used to be before all of this and will wish that he could go back in time and just be normal again because he's so exhausted from everything.

Alrighty... For now thats all I can really think about!! I probably will look back at this and be like "awh dang why didn't I add this.." So expect me to most likely edit this little post at some point !! Also, all of these facts are 100% based off of experiences that I have went through. If you have any questions then feel free to send me an ask and I'll totally answer !! Plus some old art from when I first made him in 2023 when I was having that EP

Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy reading all this despite it being super long... heh.. I'LL SEE U LATUR !!

[ssailormoonn]

❛ I'VE GOT YOU ❜

Uchiha Itachi X Fem!Reader

WC; 1.8k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW :: x fem reader, oral -> female recieving, reader is feeling a lil sad and itachi makes her feel better, ofc don't do this irl (if smo is feeling down the solution is sex, bc no it is not, this is purely fictional)

˚ ༘ * 𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) hii hope you’re well! can i request itachi x fem or gn reader comfort sex? i need him so bad rn it’s not even funny - ANON

m.list | naruto/boruto m.list | uchiha m.list

You get home to your apartment and you see your man in the kitchen, seems like he just came to see you because he was still donned in his Akatsuki cloak.

"Itachi," you whispered.

"It's late," his voice was soft, concern laced in his words, he must have realised that you had come home from work later than usual.

You didn't have a good day, not at all.

You sink into the couch, your body against the plushness of the cushions. You feel the couch shift as he sits beside you, his cloak discarded to only grey pants and a shirt underneath. For a moment, there was no speaking. He didn't push, didn't ask what was wrong. He just knew when to give you space.

You tried to steady your breathing, but when he sat down beside you, you let it go. Your shoulders shook and a choked sob escaped before you could stop it. Your cheeks streamed with tears as the weight of the day crashed on you all at once.

Itachi leaned in closer without a word. His hand reached out and lay against your back, reassuring in its touch. Warm fingers mapped slow, comforting circles across your back as he let you cry.

"You don't have to explain," he said softly-barely more than a whisper above silent. "I'm here."

His words snapped something in you, and then you knew you had turned into him, burying your face in his chest. His shirt felt cool against your skin, while his body was warm. You clung to him, your hands clutching the material of his shirt, as your sobs wet the cloth. He held you tightly, yet tenderly, never once drawing away.

"You're allowed to feel this," Itachi whispered some time later, his lips brushing against the top of your head. "You don't have to be strong all the time."

His arms wrapped more closely around you, his fingers threading softly through your hair. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the beat of his heart beating now to the same speeed as yours. He pressed his chin against the top of your head.

After a few minutes of this, your sobs finally died down and left you with deep exhaustion. You just remained there, tucked against him, not wanting to move yet.

"Itachi." you whispered, your head rising just slightly so you could look up at him. His eyes met yours, deep, dark eyes that always seemed to understand you in ways no one else did.

His hand brushed against your cheek, wiping away one errant tear with the pad of his thumb. He leaves his hand there long enough that your breathing hitches a bit, a warmth starting to build in your chest. His fingers trace along your jawline-soft, unhurried.

You leaned into his hand, closing your eyes for a moment as one let the sensation wash over him. The light caress of his fingertips danced down your back; a soft shiver overspread you, and opening your eyes again, you found him watching you, his gaze steady yet deeper with something that quickened the beat of your heart.

His forehead finally came to rest against yours. His breathing grazed your lips, and your heart was racing with the thought of how much closer the distance between them was getting. His hand tracing around your cheek a moment before now made its way down to rest on your neck. His thumb lightly brushed over the sensitive pulse point of your neck. The simple touch sent shivers across your skin, and you swallowed hard while trying to steady your breathing.

"Itachi...", you whispered lowly.

His hand on your neck tightened infinitesimally, his other arm wrapping around your waist as he tugged you closer to him-you felt the firm warmth of his body through his shirt.

"Itachi," you said again, but with a lot more purpose this time as your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt and you looked up at him, searching eyes for what came next. There was something magnetic in the way he looked at you; his silence a great deal more than any words.

He leaned in toward me, his lips barely touching mine-light as a whisper-but to his nerves, it was a raging fire. It seemed he waited, tested the waters gave one the chance to retreat if so wished-but I did not. That light teasing touch from his lips had sent a surge of heat through me, and before I knew it, I leaned the rest of the way in, closing the gap completely.

The kiss was slow, deliberate. His lips danced against yours, leaving you out of breath, his hand on your neck guiding you with ease. It was as if the world melted away and, in its place, there was only the two of you.

His heart rate showed in the clutch of fingers that closed on your waist, pulling you closer still until no space existed between bodies. A soft moan escaped your throat, his kiss deepening, his tongue slipping past your lips to taste you with a languorous sensual intensity. You gasped against him, your hands shifting from his cloak onto his chest-hard muscle beneath his shirt. His lips left yours, trailing down your jawline, down toward your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "Itachi..." His name fell from your lips again this time more breathless, more needy as you leaned to the side, granting him further access. He required no further encouragement. His mouth found the sensitive skin of your neck, kissing and nibbling lightly, sending waves of pleasure across your body. His hands slid lower, coming to rest on your hips, his thumbs stroking over the skin just beneath your shirt. The light touch was enough to set your senses alight, and you arched into him, your body responding to every one of his movements. "You're beautiful," he murmured against your skin, low and husky, the words sending a thrill through you. His lips moved back up to capture yours once more in a kiss that was hotter, more urgent this time. His body pressed against yours in a way that left no doubt about where this moment could lead. "Is this okay?" he asked softly, voice low a hum, eyes searching yours for confirmation. His thumb brushed over your lower lip. You nodded, breathless, lips swollen. "Yes, Itachi... And with that, his lips were back on yours again, and the world faded to black once more as you let go, completely, into his arms. "I'll take care of you, don't worry, you want me to, darling?" he asks.

"Please," you whimper as his teeth graze your neck before he strips the clothes off of your body. 

And now, your legs over his shoulders and your head thrown back against the plushy pillow beneath your head on the couch. There was also a smaller pillow propped underneath your hips, Itachi said that it would make it more comfy for you and it did. He always worried about your pleasure and comfort.

"I-Tachi," you whimper out as his nose bumps against your clit.

"Are you okay?" he asks, worried about how much your voice was whimpering at the small amount of contact with your most sensitive area.

You squirm under the hold Itachi's hand on your thighs, back subtly arching into his face, wanting to indulge further in his touch.

"Yeah," you say breathlessly.

"You'll be alright, my love," Itachi reassures, placing soft and fluttery kisses on your stomach.

You shiver underneath the simple gestures, awaiting when he puts his tongue and fingers to use.

"'M know, Itachi," you replied, your fingers interlacing with his long black hair which was now free from his hairtie. 

Itachi descends once more to your most sensitive area, your soaked cunt. "Tell me if it's too much."

"You never hurt me, 'tachi," you said while a shaky breath leaves your mouth.

A whimper leaves your mouth when he places a kiss on your clit and your thighs clench around his head. You attempt to arch away from the overwhelming sensation but Itachi's grip keeps you in place.

"L-Love," you moan out.

"I know, darling," Itachi reassures. "It's okay, I'm here, tell me if it's too much."

Once more, Itachi's nose brushes up against your delicate clit, and your grip on his hair tightened. A satisfied sigh seeps through him into your folds as a mewl from your full lips.

"Are you okay?" he asks before licking a long stripe up your folds and you moan, your back arching and your cunt pressing further into his face which he relished in.

You whimpered before answering, trying to gather your scattered thoughts, "Yeah, 'm am, Itachi."

He loves you so intensely it hurts, and your response makes his heart sing. His tongue climbs up from your wet hole to your clit while you let out a moan. Your thighs tighten around his head as a result of his constriction, and as you grind down on his face, a moan echoes through your clit. Your lips were filled with chants of his name, and he relished every moment of it.

"Itachi, f-feels s' good," you moan, tears welling in your lash line, he was making you feel so good.

"You're okay?" Itachi asks.

When you feel a thick finger push past your closing walls, you furiously nod your head, your eyes expand, and you cry with delight. It felt so fantastic that you never want it to finish, even though you thought you would break because he was so huge.

His finger pressed up against that soft spot inside your walls. Itachi was slow with his pace as he curled his fingers every time he entered your cunt, along with sucking and licking at your puffy, sensitive clit.

"You're being so good, you're doing so well," Itachi moans against you, refusing to rut his hips into the mattress, this was your pleasure, not his own.

A moan arouses from you and your hips grind themselves onto his face. He let you for once have some sort of control over the situation, and he decided that if you came quicker he'll let you do it more often. "That's it," he praised.

His motions become more rapid and needy as you cry his name through broken letters, and the one hold he held on your leg tightens. Your stomach coil tightened, and your fingers wrapped around his locks to stop him from moving and make him sigh deeper into your folds.

The only thing the groans did was push you over the edge, and when he placed his tongue firmly against your clit, a quiet scream from your lips. Your stomach coil unwound, soaking his face completely.

He slowly removed his fingers from your drenched pussy, your cum spilling out from your puffy folds. Before rising his head, he places a kiss on your clit and your mewl softly in overstimulation.

"Are you alright, love?" he asks worried, kissing away the pleasure-caused tears streaming down your cheeks and the side of your face. "Do you feel better."

You were so tired just after that one orgasm and Itachi seemed to notice and he lifted you from the couch so that you were able to rest on him, snuggling up against him on the couch now. "Thank you, Itachi."

"Anything for you."

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | naruto/boruto m.list | uchiha m.list

[cold-neon-ocean]

Omigooooooaaaashhh 😭😭😭 your last post!!! Somebody PLEEEAASE SAVE BAATAR FROM HIS OWN MIND!! I literally know the feeling of fighting with yourself and your own thoughts and it's truly exhausting, nerve wrecking and draining!! But to have them centered around people who have extraordinary powerful abilities that literally change both the physical world and spiritual world HAS to be torture!! Omigosh by beautiful baby boy needs therapy!!

NO FOR REAL IM TRULY BEGGING HIM TO SEEK A GOOD THERAPIST LIKE SIR PLEASE 😭😭

Kuvira can just see on his face when he starts Thinking Too Much and then has to divert his attention lest he be consumed by the horrors of his own thoughts kshsjs Baatar doesn't like being fussed over like he's helpless and she knows that, but she can't help but check on his heart rate often to tell if he's having an anxiety spike or not. Especially when they're in public because it happens. He'll suddenly realize he's just surrounded by people who he can't ever know the intentions of and he'll just start quietly internally panicking and Kuv can't help but pick up his heart rate through the ground and have to go rescue him from himself :')

Like when he was captured and held hostage by Korra and she threatened him with the Avatar state, sure he called her bluff but that has to be the number one fear of any non-bender because what could they possibly do in response to that? He pretty much had his fear of being subjected to the mercy of someone with bending realized- in the worst possible scenario imaginable, and all he could do was try and talk his way out of it. And yeah Korra would have never hurt him in front of his family but he was still humiliated in front of them all the same. He's a champion at masking his feelings on the surface but I can only imagine how heart attack enduring as a non-bender being threatened by the Avatar themselves would be.

He's got so many mental anguishes going on at once, his status as a non-bender, how that has damaged his relationship with his family, his identity crisis, and also how he internalizes how Kuvira has felt outcast and he just reflexively gets angry for her. The man truly needs a mental health intervention because insisting that he can handle it all on his own has not been going as well as he thinks it has ajshsj

I've reoccuringly daydreamed about the scenario where Baatar does start going to therapy and detangling all his cumulative damage and feelings like that's truly what I want for him the most, some mental peace ;;

[therealslimscreamer]

now you remember where you came from.

now you remember where you’re going.

you’ve got to keep it flowing.

you are one ant.

[moonchild-in-blue]

Oh, and I know I can tell I'm falling further again But I won't turn away It's far too late for me

(It's too late for me / It's too late)

I can't really put into words how much of an iron grip this song has on me. Especially that last part, where he repeats "It's too late for me" - I can't listen to it without tearing up and waiting to sing along from the top of of my lungs. It's one of those where I desperately wish I didn't relate to it, but in a weird, sick way, I'm glad I do.

It's SUCH a cathartic feeling to just put in on full volume and sing along. I just know Vessel must've had such a visceral moment recording this (all of their songs really, but yeah).