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pucksandpower · 20 hours

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Worlds Apart

Max Verstappen x Sargeant!Reader

Summary: everyone seems to have something to say about your relationship with Max, but at the end of the day all that matters is the two of you

Warnings: Jos Verstappen

Based on a request by @butterflyexe

The sorority house is pulsing with noise — music, laughter, the clink of plastic cups. You weave through the crowd, feeling very much out of place amongst the scantily clad co-eds. Your sundress and sandals seem prudish in comparison.

“Y/N! There you are!” Chelsea, your big sister in Kappa Alpha Theta, comes barreling over with a few of her friends in tow. “We were just talking about you.”

You eye them warily. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, like how you’re totally wasting your college experience pining over some old race car driver instead of playing the field.” Chelsea’s friend, Brittany, smirks as she takes a sip of her drink.

You bristle at that. “Max is not old! He’s only 26.”

“Exactly,” Chelsea says, putting an arm around your shoulders. “You’re a sophomore dating a whole ass man who’s nearly 30. It’s weird.”

“No it’s not!” You protest, shrugging off her arm. “We’ve been together over a year. I really like him.”

“Like him?” Brittany scoffs. “Wake up, Y/N. He’s an international celebrity dating a little college student. You’re just his side piece.”

The words hit like a slap to the face. “That’s not true!”

“Then why does he never post about you on social media?” Chelsea counters. “I follow him and you’re never on his accounts.”

“We just value our privacy,” you mumble, but her words have sown seeds of doubt.

Chelsea gives you a pitying look. “Honey, I’m just trying to watch out for you. There are so many great guys here on campus that would treat you right.”

Your eyes narrow at the dig. “You mean like those meathead frat bros that never shut up about their high school glory days? No thanks.”

The girls all gasp in mock offense. Brittany steps closer, using her height advantage to loom over you. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, talking about our men like that.”

“Yeah?” You stand your ground, hands on your hips. “Well maybe if they acted like men instead of immature little boys, I wouldn’t have to.”

A hush falls over the nearby crowd, all eyes on your confrontation. Brittany looks murderous until one of her sidekicks tugs her sleeve, murmuring “Let’s go, it’s not worth it.” She sneers at you one last time before stalking off, leaving you and Chelsea alone.

Your big sister sighs, rubbing her temples. “Why are you so hell-bent on making this hard on yourself, Y/N? Max is a world away, both physically and in terms of life experience. You could have any guy at this school eating out of the palm of your hand. Why not take advantage of that?”

Her words are salt in the wound. You blink back tears, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Because I love Max. He makes me incredibly happy. And yeah, the distance is hard and he’s older and more established in his career. But he’s kind and smart and we just … connect, you know? I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.”

Chelsea shakes her head pityingly. “I’m just trying to watch out for you. I’d hate to see you get your heart broken over some long-distance fling.”

“It’s not a fling!” You’re sick of trying to convince everyone. Pushing past her, you storm out of the suffocating house and into the cool night air. Gulping it down, you sink down onto the steps, chest heaving with anger and hurt and frustration.

Alone at last, you let the tears come. You know the doubts eating at you are unfair — Max has been nothing but devoted and caring throughout your relationship, even with his insanely busy schedule. But the fears voiced by Chelsea and her crew have burrowed under your skin. Maybe you are just a naive little plaything for him. Maybe he’ll eventually get bored and move on to someone more sophisticated and on his level.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket — a FaceTime call from the man in question himself. You fumble to answer it, swiping hastily at your damp cheeks. “H-Hey you.”

“There’s my gorgeous girl!” His bright smile fills the screen, momentarily banishing your worries. “I only have a few minutes before FP1, but I couldn’t wait to see that pretty face.”

You can’t help but return his warm grin, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I miss you so much, Max.”

His brow furrows at your tone. “What’s wrong, liefje? You sound upset.”

You want to brush it off, but maybe this is your chance to finally get those nagging fears off your chest. “It’s just … things have been rough lately with the girls. They keep saying I’m wasting my time with you, that you’re going to leave me for someone else, that I’m just a naive little girl you’re using for fun.”

He’s silent for a long moment, then curses under his breath. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. That must be really hard to deal with, on top of the distance.”

“It is,” you admit, blinking back fresh tears. “And as much as I try to ignore them and have faith in us, their words have started to get to me. I mean … why don’t you ever post about me on social media? Do you not want the world to know about me?”

A shadow crosses his features. Clearly he’s heard this criticism before. “My reasons for keeping my relationships private have nothing to do with you, okay? I keep that part of my life off social media to avoid a media frenzy and protect the people I care about.” His expression softens. “But you better believe everyone important in my life knows about you — my family, my closest mates. Hell, the whole Red Bull garage is sick of hearing me go on and on about how amazing my girl is.”

You can’t help but laugh through your tears, some of the weight lifting off your chest. “Really?”

“Of course!” He chuckles. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Y/N. No matter how far apart we are or what anyone else says, you’re the only one I want.”

Your cheeks flush at his heart-melting words. In that moment, you don’t care about your snotty sorority sisters or the distance or anything else — just being completely in love with this amazing man. “I wish you were here,” you murmur, drinking in every detail of his face. “I miss holding you so damn much.”

Max’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Maybe you can show me how much later tonight, when we’re all alone to video call properly?”

You giggle and smack your hand over the camera, feeling suddenly shy. “Max Verstappen, you incorrigible flirt!”

“You love it.” His voice takes on a deeper, huskier tone that sends tingles down your spine. “And you’re going to love what I have planned for your next visit even more ...”

You spend the next few giddy minutes shamelessly flirting back and forth, soaking up precious moments of intimacy through the phone line to sustain you until you can be together again. When his race engineer appears in the background, beckoning him to the track, you’re both full of regretful sighs.

“Duty calls,” Max says wistfully. “But I’ll call you later, okay? We can pick up where we left off ...” He waggles his eyebrows mischievously.

You can’t stop your face-splitting grin. “I’ll be counting the minutes.”

“Bye schatje. Love you to the moon and back.”

“Love you too!” You clutch the phone to your chest after he disconnects, completely lovestruck. All your insecurities have melted away under the heat of Max’s devoted words and that heart-stopping smile.

It’s going to be okay.

He chose you — Y/N Sargeant, sophomore student, for all your flaws and relative immaturity. And you’ve never felt luckier.

Spirits lifted, you bound back into the house and upstairs to your bedroom. You’ll ignore Chelsea and her nasty friends for the rest of the night, instead losing yourself in daydreams of the next time you’ll be wrapped in Max’s strong arms.

Your relationship may be a long-distance whirlwind, but you’re all in and you’ve never been happier. Let the other sorority girls whisper — you’ve snagged yourself a keeper.

***

Max drains the last of his water bottle as he exits the Red Bull garage, sweat still beading on his brow from the qualifying session. He stretches his arms over his head with a satisfied groan — even after all these years in Formula 1, there’s no better feeling than pushing a car to its limits on the track.

“Max! A word, if you please.”

He cringes at the familiar bark, turning to find his father bearing down on him like a storm cloud. So much for basking in the post-qualifying glow. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Jos’ mouth presses into a grim line, eyes smoldering behind the lenses of his sunglasses. “Well, for one, I saw that interview of yours from yesterday making the rounds online.”

Max fights the urge to roll his eyes. Of course his old man would find something to criticize. “And? I thought it was pretty standard, nothing controversial.”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t mean it to be controversial.” Jos sneers the word like a curse. “But dodging questions about your girlfriend and claiming you prefer to keep your private life private? It’s only going to stoke more media speculation and rumors.”

“Is that so bad?” Max counters. “I like to keep things out of the spotlight as much as I can. You know how ravenous the press is.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, son.” Jos steps closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous hiss. “I know exactly who this girl of yours is.”

Max feels his hackles rising at his dad’s dismissive tone when speaking about you. He opens his mouth to retort, but Jos barrels on.

“First it was that damn Kelly Piquet and her baggage, and now you’ve upgraded to jailbait? What is it with you and dating either old hags or naive teenagers, Max?”

“That’s enough!” Max snarls, feeling his face flush with anger. “How dare you talk about them like that, especially Y/N. She’s an incredible woman, and our age gap means nothing.”

Jos scoffs loudly. “Come off it, boy! She’s just a child, a nobody playing at being a WAG. You were born for greatness, bred to be a champion. Why on earth would you hitch your wagon to some college bimbo barely out of nappies?”

It’s like a red mist descends over Max’s vision at his father’s vile words about you. Before he can stop himself, his fist lashes out and connects squarely with Jos’ jawbone, sending the older man stumbling back.

“Don’t you ever speak about her that way again,” Max seethes, cradling his throbbing hand. “Y/N is ten times the person you’ll ever be. Smart, mature, driven as hell —she’s going to accomplish incredible things someday, whether you respect her or not.”

Jos regains his footing, clutching the blooming bruise on his cheek and glaring daggers at his son. “How dare you strike me, you ungrateful little shit! I gave you everything — the training, the opportunities, the sacrifices to get you to this level. And this is how you repay me?”

Max refuses to be baited, meeting his father’s glare with stony resolution. “Maybe if you didn’t insist on being such a hateful, miserable bastard all the time, I wouldn’t have to. All I want is for you to be civil and show some respect. Is that too much to ask?”

He huffs out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “But that’s not your way, is it? You’d rather condemn me for daring to find happiness with someone, just because she’s younger or doesn’t fit into your narrow ideas of what my life should look like. Well, I’ve got a newsflash for you. It’s my fucking life and I’ll live it however I damn well please.”

Jos opens his mouth, undoubtedly to fire off more vitriol, but Max cuts him off with a raised hand. He’s said his piece, expending the last of his energy and patience dealing with his father’s bullheadedness — at least for today. Right now, all he wants is to retreat somewhere quiet and let his thoughts drift across the ocean to you.

“Save it. I’m done arguing.” He turns on his heel and stalks away, Jos shouting insults at his retreating back.

Don’t react, don’t react. His jaw clenches almost painfully as he navigates the familiar path back to his driver’s room, typing out a quick message.

You free to chat soon, gorgeous? Need to hear your voice.

The reply comes almost instantly. For you, always. Give me 20 mins? ❤️

He can’t stop the surge of warmth at your words, the tension slowly draining from his shoulders. That’s his girl — always knowing exactly what he needs, even from thousands of miles away. And isn’t that what matters most of all?

After showering and changing into casual sweats and a t-shirt, Max sinks onto the small couch placed against the wall, pillows arranged just so to prop up his aching back and shoulders. He picks up his phone and dials your number, heart rate kicking up a notch in eager anticipation.

After what feels like an eternity but is surely only a few rings, your face fills the screen. You must have just gotten back from class — your hair is tousled and loose, your makeup-free skin flushed and glowing in the South Florida sun.

“Well hey there, handsome.” Your teasing smirk dissipates as you get a better look at him. “Max? Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

“I am now,” he manages, relief already washing over him at the simple sight of you. He drinks in every last detail like a man parched. “Just had a bit of a run-in with my dad and needed an escape.”

Concern flashes in your warm eyes. “Oh no, what happened?”

So he tells you — the interview rumors, his dad ambushing him and lobbing insults, the explosive fight that caused him to lose his cool and strike the first blow. You listen with sympathy, every encouraging nod and murmured reassurance calming his frazzled nerves until the story is spent, leaving him strangely at peace.

“Thank you for sharing all that with me, babe,” you say once he’s finished. Your voice is gentle but firm. “I’m sorry Jos was so out of line, but you were totally right to stand up to him. Nobody gets to dismiss our relationship or talk about you like that.”

Max blows out a long breath, raking a hand through his shower-damp hair. “I know, I just … I hate letting him get under my skin like that, you know? No matter how much I try to rise above it, he always finds a way to trigger something deep down. It’s exhausting constantly needing to defend myself and the people I care about.”

“But that’s not your burden to bear alone, Max.” You shake your head adamantly, jaw set in that stubborn way he loves. “Let me help shoulder that weight, even if I can’t actually be there physically yet. I’m on your team, remember? We’re partners. I’ve got your back.”

Your words loosen a knot of tension he didn’t realize he was carrying. Of course you get it, you always do. He knows in that moment how lucky he is to have found his teammate, his shelter in the storm that rages on no matter how successful he becomes.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” His voice comes out low, thick with emotion. “How did I ever get so lucky?”

Your radiant smile could power entire cities. “By being you, silly. And for the record, your dad is way off base. There’s nothing wrong with you wanting a mature, driven, accomplished partner — even if she happens to be younger.”

“Age shaming goes both ways, apparently.”

“Apparently,” you agree wryly. “I had my own fun today ...”

As you launch into explaining the shenanigans that occurred during your morning lecture, Max feels himself relaxing further and further into the couch, a dopey grin spreading across his face. On and on the two of you go, playfully trading stories until his father and the endless pressures of his career have fully melted away, replaced by this perfect bubble the two of you inhabit.

When you hit a lull, stifling a yawn behind your hand, Max reluctantly decides to let you go for the night. “Do you have some time before your next class? You should get some rest.”

“Aw, I’m fine!” You protest through another jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m not done talking to my favorite driver yet.”

Max chuckles fondly. This stubborn streak of yours will be the death of him someday. “We both know that’s a lie. I can practically hear your bed calling your name for a nap from here.”

“Hmph, fine.” You stick out your full bottom lip in an exaggerated pout that makes his heart skip. “I guess if you insist on being all reasonable and stuff.”

“That’s me, a real fun-sucker.” He matches your playful tone, though his eyes are serious. “But before you go … can you just say it? For me?”

You immediately soften, gazing at him through the camera with so much tenderness, it almost winds him. “I love you, Max. More than anything.”

He exhales heavily, as if your words have physically lifted a weight from his shoulders. “I love you too, Y/N. And your love, your belief in me … it’s everything. Never doubt that, okay?”

“I won’t if you don’t,” you promise with a wink. “Good luck, babe. I’ll be dreaming of you.”

“Sweet dreams, liefje.”

Even after disconnecting the call, Max sits there for several long moments, staring at the now-dark screen with a besotted grin. His chest is pleasantly warm, full to bursting with the soul-deep reassurance that only you can provide.

Screw whatever toxic nonsense his dad tries to peddle about your age gap or his career. You’re the beating heart that sustains him, the sun around which his entire universe orbits. No disapproving authority figure or rumor mill gossip could ever change that fundamental truth.

So let his father rage and splutter all he wants about how “inappropriate” your relationship is. Max has tasted the extraordinary, found his home and partner in the most vibrant woman he’s ever met. All those lonely, empty years without that missing piece suddenly feel like a hazy, long-forgotten dream.

As Max sips his energy drink and prepares for another demanding few hours at the track, he can’t keep the dopey smile off his face. You’re worth enduring a thousand more shouting matches with his dad, worth traversing any distance just to hear your laugh again.

Max is the luckiest bastard alive to have earned your heart, and he’ll never take that gift for granted.

***

You shoulder your backpack and push through the double doors of the lecture hall, finally free from classes for the summer. The late afternoon sun bakes the quad in a warm glow as you pause for a moment, breathing in the sweet semi-tropical air.

For two years, this campus has been your entire world. Endless cycles of classes, parties, study sessions, and chaos with your sisters from Kappa Alpha Theta. But now, as you glance around at the laughing students basking in the first days of freedom, you feel a strange sense of restlessness settle over you.

Like there’s some place — somewhere — else you’re meant to be.

Shaking it off, you start heading for the student parking lot to meet up with Chelsea. You only make it a few steps before unusually loud cheers and shouts draw your attention to a small crowd forming near the front entrance.

Rows of parked cars block your view, but the distinctive growl of a high-performance engine cuts through the commotion. Your pulse instantly kicks up a notch as your mind puts it together.

That’s no ordinary car.

That’s a multimillion dollar, 800 horsepower British rocket. Sleek, powerful, luxuriously elegant.

Just like-

“No way ...” you breathe out, books slipping from your slackened grip as the glossy green bodywork of an Aston Martin DBS Superleggera slides into view. Because draped over the driver’s side door in that achingly familiar display of casual arrogance ...

“Max!” You shout his name in disbelieving joy even as your feet are carrying you toward him at a full sprint.

His head snaps up at the sound and your heart nearly stops at the way his whole face ignites with radiant delight. That brilliant smile you’ve ached to see in person for so long now stretching those full lips in the most heart-stoppingly beautiful way.

He pushes off from the car, hands outstretched, and in the space of a single frantic heartbeat you’ve flung yourself into his arms with a breathless laugh.

“What are you doing here?” You demand giddily as Max’s strong arms engulf you, swinging your frame around in a tight circle. You’re vaguely aware of the other students going nuts, people shouting and whistles piercing the air, but you only have eyes and ears for this incredible man holding you tightly.

Max just chuckles warmly, murmuring your name with raw affection before crashing his lips to yours in a scorching kiss that leaves you dizzy. You melt into the fierce embrace, parting your lips eagerly to taste the slight sweetness of Red Bull and dark chocolate that is so distinctly Max.

“Surprise, schatje,” he rumbles against your smiling mouth between heated, openmouthed kisses. “Thought I would swing by and pick up my favorite student myself.”

“Oh my god!” You laugh delightedly, cupping his chiseled jaw to drink in every perfectly imperfect inch of his beloved face. The strong jawline, the dimpled chin, those piercing blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he beams at you.

“When did you … how did you …” You’re at a loss for words, overcome with giddy euphoria at having Max here, warm and solid and real in your arms again after so many endless months.

A fresh wave of cheers and hollers suddenly cuts through your joyful bubble as half the crowd seems to recognize the celebrity in their midst. Dozens of camera phones whip out to capture the unexpectedly intimate reunion between you and Max.

“Who is that guy?”

“No way, that’s Max freaking Verstappen!”

“Y/N, how do you know Max Verstappen?”

The shouts and questions reach a fever pitch, finally breaking through your amorous fugue. Blushing furiously, you pull back just enough to murmur against Max’s chest.

“Well, much as I’d love to keep making out with my insanely hot boyfriend in the middle of campus, maybe we should take this somewhere a bit more private?”

Max gives a deep, rich laugh at that, the sound vibrating pleasantly against you.

“You are a wise woman, liefje,” he praises in that deliciously accented baritone. He presses one last, searing kiss to your smiling lips before reluctantly disentangling himself. “Though I would have thought you might like to give all your classmates one more delightful bit of inspiration to remember you by before you depart for the summer?”

He leers at you playfully as a chorus of whoops and whistles greets his flirtatious suggestion. You can’t help but bark out a laugh, shoving his chest lightly in mock admonishment even as heat rushes to your cheeks.

“You’re impossible!”

“No, just hopelessly in love with you,” he counters easily, reaching out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear. The tenderness in his voice and touch instantly gentles your teasing mood into something infinitely fonder.

This remarkable man, so genuine and caring beneath the roguish exterior cultivated for the cameras. You’re struck by a sudden lance of melancholy at the thought of how little the world really knows of the real Max Verstappen.

But then his eyes crinkle in that way that speaks of unabashed adoration just for you and the feeling passes. Because you know him better than anyone. And he sees you just the same. Two souls intertwined by a rare, precious understanding.

Max’s hand slides around to cup the back of your neck, his thumb brushing lightly over your thundering pulse point. The tender motion instantly sets your nerves alight with renewed longing.

“So,” his voice drops to an impossibly deep bedroom octave meant only for your ears. “Shall we give the good people at the University of Miami one last show before I whisk you away for a few months of long overdue privacy?”

There’s the barest hint of a filthy promise underlying the words. You swallow thickly, unconsciously pressing closer as Max’s velvet tones wash over you like a physical caress.

“And just where will you be taking me?” You manage to tease back, forcing a bravado your hammering heart doesn’t feel.

“Well ...” He leans in until his lips brush the delicate shell of your ear. You shiver helplessly at the heated puff of air ghosting your sensitive skin.

“First,” he begins in a heated murmur, “we’re going to swing by your sorority house to gather your belongings.”

“Okay ...” You nod faintly, hyper-aware of Max’s intoxicating proximity.

“Then I’ll be driving us straight to your parents’ place in Fort Lauderdale,” he continues lowly. “Per the strict instructions of one Logan Sargeant, of course.”

You can’t help the surprised laugh that bursts forth. Trust your brother to strong-arm his way into Max’s surprise plans.

“He didn’t give you too hard a time, did he?” You ask through your giggles. “I can only imagine the threats he must have ...”

You trail off at the feeling of Max’s talented mouth blazing a trail of kisses along the slender column of your throat. Every exploratory brush of his lips and insistent swipe of tongue steals the breath from your lungs.

“Max ...” You whine out his name without conscious thought, going pliant against the solid wall of his body.

“Shhh,” he rumbles against your overwrought senses. “Let me finish first.”

There’s a maddening pause where the only sounds are the rushing waves of cheers and chaos from the delighted crowd watching your every move, hungered gazes drinking in every scorching caress Max bestows upon you. Under any other circumstances, the thought of being so shamelessly devoured by hundreds of strangers’ eyes would have you recoiling in embarrassment.

But Max’s presence, his heated touch and low, sinful voice have you spellbound, uncaring of your audience.

“After we’ve satisfied your family’s demands to see us with their own eyes,” he purrs. “We’ll be boarding my jet bright and early for someplace much more ... pleasurable.”

Your skin prickles with delicious tension as Max continues in that low, rough whisper.

“We’ll spend a few lazy days lounging on a private beach in Aruba, just the two of us.” His large hand roves provocatively down the curve of your spine to boldly grip your backside, pulling your hips flush against the insistent bulge in his designer jeans. “Catching up on all the things I’ve been dreaming about for months, schatje.”

A tremulous whimper escapes your parted lips at the blatant promise underlying Max’s words. You flatten your palms against the firm planes of his chest, feeling his powerful heartbeat thundering in time with your own.

“A-And after that?” You somehow manage in a breathy rasp, scarcely daring to hope.

Max’s only response is a low, thrumming chuckle that you feel vibrate across your heated skin. His chin dips, molten blue eyes searing into yours with naked hunger.

“After that?” He husks, stealing the breath from your lungs with a devastating grin. “Well, then I’ll finally get to introduce the world to my favorite girl.”

And neither of you can wait.

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flickering-chandelier · 3 days

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The Alchemy

Pairing: Hockey Azriel x Best Friend’s Sister Reader

Summary: The day Azriel met Cassian’s little sister, he knew he was done for. When he finds out years later that she’s just as interested in him, things become complicated as they try to hide their blooming relationship from Cassian while their hockey team is working hard to win the championship.

Based on this request! 🩷

Warnings: swearing, smut, a sprained ankle lol?

Word Count: 7.1k

The crowd roared as Azriel slapped his stick across the ice, shooting the puck directly past the goalie and into the net.

His teammates clapped him on the back, grinning as the final buzzer sounded. He had won them the game. People were in his face, excitedly swarming around him on the ice, ready to celebrate, but through it all, his eyes landed on you in the stands. Your smile was bright, your eyes glittering with pride.

That made his heart flip. He could handle all the reporters, all the overeager fans, all the assholes from his team and opposite teams alike, but your smile could bring him to his knees.

Cassian skated into sight then, and Azriel was immediately brought back down to earth.

“Congrats bro,” Cassian said. “Maybe the journalists will leave me alone for once,” he smirked.

Azriel rolled his eyes good-naturedly, and sure enough, a woman with a microphone was waiting next to the tunnel, her eyes locked on Azriel, a big smile on her face.

Cassian was usually the star of the show, the team’s captain, the hotshot golden boy for the fans and media alike. Azriel loved what he did, but he was perfectly happy to blend into Cassian’s shadow.

It had been that way since they were kids. Azriel and Cassian had met as teenagers at hockey practice. They hated each other at first, but once they started working together, they realized it was better for everyone that way.

They had been friends for quite a while before Azriel met you.

It was one of the last games in the season of their senior year. Cassian had stolen the show, but Azirel had gotten a few good shots in, too. The two of them walked out of the locker room together after the game, and you were waiting there, wearing a jersey for the team, your hair tied up with ribbons that matched the team’s colors.

Azriel was immediately drawn in by your smile, your hair, your eyes. For a moment he fantasized about sauntering up to you, introducing himself, and immediately making you fall in love with him.

But then you looked right past him, grinning at Cassian. “That was so awesome, Cass!”

Cassian grinned, pulling you into a bear hug, before turning to Azriel. “Az, this is my little sister.”

Your smile turned on Azriel for the first time, and he felt his whole world flip on its axis.

Azriel had already known that Cassian was protective of people that he cared about. He had gotten suspended from a few games the year before because he tackled a player on the other team who had made fun of Azriel. So, he could only imagine how Cassian was with you, with his little sister who clearly looked up to him.

So, Azriel immediately knew you would never be an option for him.

That didn’t stop him from falling for you, though.

---

You cheered at the top of your lungs as Azriel’s shot whizzed into the net, seconds before the final buzzer went off. Your heart soared as his teammates buzzed around him, lifting their sticks in the air in triumph.

Despite everything around him, his eyes landed on you and you felt your heart lurch.

It seemed that Azriel had always been able to find you in the stands, no matter what else was happening. You tried to push down the well of emotions in your chest.

Ever since you had met Azriel, you had felt drawn to him, to his steady, quiet presence.

He had never shown any interest in you though. In fact, he seemed to avoid you at most functions that you ended up at together.

You couldn’t exactly blame him. You were just Cassian’s little sister, the annoying girl following them around to all their games.

Cassian and you had always been close, so you loved being able to support him, but in the privacy of your own mind, you were willing to admit that after you had met Azriel, you were definitely more inclined to go to your brother’s hockey games.

You watched as Azriel skated toward the reporter, getting through the interview with as few words as possible, as usual.

The reporter eventually seemed to give up on getting anything substantial from Az, and she called Cassian over, who came up with an easy smile. He had always been good in the spotlight, giving interesting answers, able to work a crowd.

Azriel looked relieved to get off the ice, out of sight.

You wished you could follow him, get just a moment with him.

But you knew that wasn’t in the cards for you.

A few days later, you had gotten out of work early and decided to go watch the boys’ hockey practice. They didn’t let many people in, but Cassian had made sure that you made the list.

You took a seat fairly close to the rink, your gaze immediately falling on Azriel, mesmerized as you watched him fly across the ice, his brow furrowed with focus, massive frame somehow so graceful in his element.

Often, you wished you could see his muscles working beneath all that padding, the shape of his shoulders, his biceps, his forearms flexing with each movement.

Cassian barked orders at his teammates, ever the hardworking captain, and you tore your eyes from Azriel long enough to pretend that you were only there to support your brother.

At the end of practice, Cassian grinned at you, and nodded his head toward the tunnels. “Meet me in the locker room in 10 minutes?”

You gave him a thumbs up and he skated out of sight. You hadn’t been in the locker rooms much. You secretly hoped that Azriel would still be around by the time that you got there.

Hesitantly, you pushed through the doors into the locker room, your heart racing slightly at the thought of what you might see in there. You were used to being around your brother’s coworkers, but they weren’t usually so... naked.

Frankly you couldn’t tell if your prayers had been answered or if the universe was messing with you as you immediately locked eyes with a shirtless Azriel, a towel wrapped around his waist, his own eyes wide in surprise when he saw you there.

It took all your strength to maintain eye contact, to not let your gaze dip down to his chiseled chest, still glistening with water droplets from the shower.

“Hey,” he said, his voice slightly husky.

Some of their teammates were around in various stages of undress, looking at you and Azriel curiously, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Azriel. “Hi,” you said, and cleared your throat. “Cassian asked me to come…” you trailed off, feeling unsure of yourself. You couldn’t remember the last time you and Azriel had been together without Cassian’s looming presence.

He swallowed, and nodded. “Right.”

Before you could think of anything else to say, Cassian sauntered in with an easy smile on his face, in shorts and a t-shirt.

“Hey! I’m glad you came by, I wanted to talk to you,” he said, as he opened his locker and rifled through it.

You noticed out of the corner of your eye that Azriel retreated to his own locker, behind you. “What’s up?” You asked.

He shot you his sweetest smile, and you immediately rolled your eyes. “What’s the favor, Cass?”

Laughing, he said, “the team’s having a party soon, and I’m supposed to be in charge of appetizers…” he trailed off, grimacing slightly.

“Who’s idea was that?” you laughed.

He shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know how it happened. Would you help me out?”

“Do I get to come to the party?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Of course.”

“Alright, I’m in,” you smiled.

“You’re a lifesaver,” he grinned.

“Oh, I know,” you said, hyper aware of Azriel getting dressed out of sight, behind you.

“Az and I were going to go get lunch, if you want to come?” Cassian asked.

You swore your heart started beating slightly faster. “Sure,” you said, trying to keep your voice even.

---

Azriel kept his features schooled into neutrality as Cassian slid out of the booth and went to the bathroom, leaving you and Azriel alone.

He racked his brain for something to say. He wasn’t great at speaking to people under normal circumstances, much less with you.

“That was a really great shot you made at the last game,” you smiled, somewhat sheepishly, Azriel thought. “I was on the edge of my seat.”

He couldn’t help but smile faintly, his heart leaping at the thought of you watching him intently on the ice, hanging on every move he made. “Thanks.”

Your eyes crinkled in amusement. “I don’t think you understand how talented you all are. I can’t even skate.”

“Really?” he asked, surprised.

You nodded. “I tried a few times when I was a kid, but I was always so clumsy. And Cassian was a natural of course, so I guess that made it harder when I kept falling over and over,” you shrugged.

“If you wanted to learn, I could teach you,” he said, before he could even really think about it. “It took me a long time to get the hang of it, so I understand.” He added, feeling slightly flustered, but trying his best not to show it.

Azriel felt relieved when your eyes lit up. “You would really do that?”

“Sure,” he said as nonchalantly as he could.

Your smile was bright. “I would love that. When do we start?”

“Tomorrow afternoon?” He asked. “Meet me at the rink?”

You nodded excitedly, just as Cassian came back. “What are you two meeting at the rink for?” he asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow at Azriel.

“Az is helping me finally learn to skate,” you said as Cassian slid into the booth next to you.

“Az is? I never knew you even wanted to learn,” Cassian said, his brow furrowed.

You shrugged. “Well, I do.”

Cassian looked between you and Azriel for a moment, somewhat skeptically, but then shrugged easily. “Okay, then.”

Azriel could understand why Cassian was a little confused. In all the years that they had been friends, you and Azriel had barely spent any time together, if only because Azriel was purposely keeping his distance from you, hoping that his feelings would eventually diminish.

He didn’t think this little endeavor would help him get over you.

---

Your legs felt a bit shaky as you made your way to the rink and you silently cursed yourself. Maybe this was a bad idea. Being around Azriel made you so nervous, and pairing him with ice skates could be a perfect recipe for a broken ankle.

Azriel was already there, casually skating around. You couldn't help but watch him for a moment. It seemed impossible that he had ever had a hard time skating. He looked like he was born to do it.

He glanced up and saw you there, skated over to you then came to a halt, pointing to a bench just outside the rink. “Got your skates?”

You nodded, and sat down to start putting your skates on, your movements awkward and unsure. He watched your every movement, and came over to you when you started tying.

“May I?” He asked, and you just quirked a brow. He smiled faintly. “They'll have to be a lot tighter than that if you want them to stay on.”

“Oh! Yeah, go ahead,” you said.

Azriel tied your laces quickly, with expert precision.

He offered you his hand when he was done and you took it, trying to push down the swell of excitement in your chest.

As soon as you got onto the ice, your nerves overpowered everything else. Your knees felt wobbly and you were sure you would fall down instantly.

Azriel was in front of you, skating backwards slowly, still holding your hand. You gripped Azriel for dear life and your voice shaky, you croaked out, “Azriel, I don't think I can do this.”

Worry clouded his expression, his eyes softening. “You absolutely can. But you don't have to if you don't want to. There's no pressure here, okay?”

You nodded, your eyes locked on his, on the care that he seemed to have for you. It helped you settle down a bit. “What do I do?” You asked.

He smiled with pride and said, “Skating is all about balance. Stand with your feet shoulder width apart, and try to evenly distribute your weight between both feet.”

You did as you were told, and you already felt a bit better. He nodded with approval. “I'm going to have to let go of you for this next part, okay?”

Your eyes widened in fear, but you swallowed and nodded.

He smiled reassuringly as he slowly took his hand from yours and skated back the slightest bit. “Before you can glide, like you see most skaters do, you're going to march.”

“March?” You asked skeptically.

Azriel laughed, his face lighting up, and you felt your heart thunder in response. You weren't sure you had ever made him laugh before. “Just trust me, okay? Lift one foot up and bring it forward, then do it again with the other. This helps you learn to balance and rely on the skate that's still on the ice.”

When you hesitated, he skated closer to you, and took your hand in his again. “You've got this.”

You took a deep breath and nodded, and he took his cue to skate in front of you.

Following his instructions, you slowly and awkwardly marched, your movements unsure and wobbly, but at least you hadn't fallen yet.

“Is this how you learned to skate?” You asked, needing a distraction.

He barked out a laugh again. “No. I didn't have anybody to teach me, so I mostly just fell on my ass a lot until I figured out what to do.”

Your heart ached for little Azriel. You didn't know much about his past, but you did know it was a lonely, painful one.

Suddenly, you wobbled significantly, and Azriel said, “Put your hands on your knees whenever you need to regain your balance.”

Quickly you dropped your hands to your knees and felt more steady.

After a while, you felt confident enough to start skating for real, and Azriel walked you through the motions, his eyes laser focused on every movement you made.

As soon as you started trying to mimic his movements, you fell. Hard.

He winced, skating over to you. “You okay?”

You nodded, trying to keep your breathing even.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

Despite the pain, his words sent a wave of heat through you. Blinking up at him, you said, “Excuse me?”

His eyes widened slightly, the smallest smile on his face. He cleared his throat. “To get up. You need to start from your hands and knees.”

Your cheeks burned as you maneuvered yourself like he told you. You looked up at him. “Now what?”

Azriel's breathing seemed slightly labored, his eyes burning as he looked down at you. You felt like you could hardly breathe. He swallowed, then said, “Put one skate on the ice, balance yourself with your hands, then push yourself up to standing.”

You tried to follow his instructions, but as soon as you got to your feet, your balance was completely off and you would have fallen again if Azriel hadn't quickly gripped your waist, keeping you steady.

He was so close to you that you could feel the heat from his body. You looked up into his eyes, utterly mesmerized, unable to move.

For a few moments, he just held you, eyes boring into yours. Finally he said, “Ready to try again?”

“Okay,” you said quietly, but you didn't move, unwilling to be the one to pull away from him.

It took another moment for him to remove his hands from you, and you instantly felt cold at the absence of him.

Azriel skated backwards, urging you to catch up to him.

You started moving, focusing on the instructions that he gave you, your eyes continuously glancing down to your feet.

“Don't look down, just look at me,” he said gruffly.

You obeyed, your eyes latching onto his. It was steadying, his gaze. In a few moments, you actually did catch up to him, and you were so excited that you forgot to focus on your movements.

You tumbled into Azriel, bringing him down on the ice with you.

He landed on his back with a groan and you landed on top of him, your head landing on his chest.

“I'm so sorry,” you said, starting to scramble up, but his hands landed on your waist again and you couldn't bring yourself to move.

You looked into his eyes, your hands resting on his chest. Even through his sweatshirt, you could feel the hard lines of his muscles. You could hardly breathe.

He lightly brushed a lock of hair off your forehead, his eyes tracing down your face. “Don't be sorry,” he said, his voice huskier than you'd ever heard it.

Without even realizing you were doing it, you inched your face closer and closer to his, like you were being drawn in by a magnet.

His hand cupped your cheek gently. He whispered your name. And then his lips were on yours.

An electric shock jolted through your body. You leaned even further into him as he kissed you so gently that you thought you might weep.

Your hands traveled up to his face, his hair. His fingers tightened on your waist, and he groaned quietly as you deepened the kiss.

Suddenly, he pulled away, sitting up, sliding you off of him. “I’m sorry… We shouldn’t.”

Your heart plummeted. “Why?”

He looked pained as he saw the hurt on your face, putting distance between the two of you again. “Cassian,” he said gruffly. “He would kill me.”

“You think he would?” You asked. In all the years that you had been crushing on Azriel, you had never considered how Cassian would feel if the two of you actually got together.

Azriel let out a humorless laugh. “You’re his little sister. He’s more protective of you than anyone else. Remember how we had to stop him from beating up that guy who broke up with you?”

You did remember. Cassian had been more mad about that breakup than you were.

“Az,” you said, willing yourself to say the words you had been keeping to yourself for so long. “I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time… If you feel the same way, we shouldn’t let Cassian get in the way.”

His eyes widened as he studied you, his gaze lingering on your mouth. “I never knew,” he said quietly.

Before you could say anything else, he was pulling you back into him, kissing you harder than before, his movements faster, more sure as he twined his fingers into your hair.

You gasped at the sudden change in his demeanor.

It was impossible to tell how long it was that you and Azriel sat on the cold ice, exploring each other for the first time.

When he finally pulled away, gazing into your eyes, you said, “Maybe he doesn’t have to know. Not yet.”

And just like that, everything changed.

---

Azriel had never felt this way in his life. You and him had been sneaking around for the past several weeks, going on dates, and he could hardly believe it.

You were incredible. Absolutely incredible, and he thanked his lucky stars every day that you were giving him the time of day.

But then he would think about Cassian, what he would do when he found out, and Azriel would feel so incredibly panicked and guilty that he could hardly function.

You weren't doing anything wrong. He knew that. You were two consenting adults spending time together.

The sneaking around was getting difficult though. He didn't like hiding anything from his best friend.

“You okay?” You asked beside him, threading your fingers with his.

His heart leaped at how casually you did it, how comfortable it was between you so quickly. He had taken you out to eat downtown, and now you two were taking a walk through the city, the lights twinkling, dancing off your skin.

“Fine,” he said, smiling down at you.

“Stressing about Cassian?”

He couldn't help but laugh at how quickly you were able to read him. “I’ve just never hidden anything from him.”

You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “We can tell him, if you want to.”

“We should soon. I just don't know how he's going to react.”

You nodded, and he could tell that you were just as nervous as he was.

He stopped you with a hand on your arm, leading you into an alcove off of the sidewalk. “It'll be okay,” he said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “We'll tell him when we're ready.” He leaned down and kissed you gently, and you leaned into him, sighing happily.

---

The day of Cassian's party rolled around, and you walked in with him, carrying a platter of appetizers that you made for him. The whole hockey team, as well as their friends and families were milling around the coach’s massive backyard.

Azriel stood out to you like a beacon in the crowd. You had always felt like you could sense his presence, no matter how many people there were or where he was in any given room. You longed to run right to him, but you knew you couldn’t.

It was too soon, you kept telling yourself. You and Azriel were still figuring out exactly what you were, and you didn’t want to complicate things between the two of you by letting other people get involved or give their opinion.

You knew everyone on the team at least a little bit, so you mingled through the crowd until you finally found your way over to Azriel, looking up to find that his eyes were already on you.

“Hi,” you smiled.

The side of his mouth quirked up slightly, and you knew he was holding in a smile. He stepped a little closer to you, and you longed to hold his hand, to touch him.

Before either of you could say anything else, Cassian strided up, grinning. “You guys wanna go eat?”

You reigned in a sigh, and focused your attention on Cassian. “Sure,” you said, following him, and shooting a smile over your shoulder at Azriel as he followed.

The three of you each grabbed a plate of food, then settled in at a crowded picnic table. Azriel slid in next to you as Cassian took the seat opposite.

“So, I never asked, how did those skating lessons go?” Cassian asked as he dug into his plate.

You swallowed, and nearly jumped out of your seat as Azriel’s hand landed on your thigh, squeezing lightly. “It was good,” you said, trying to keep your voice nonchalant.

“She’s a really great student,” Azriel said, his eyes on his plate as his thumb ran slow circles over your skin.

You took a big drink of water to stop yourself from flushing as his hand wandered higher.

“Seriously? How many times did you fall?” Cassian asked, clearly amused.

Azriel’s grip tightened on your thigh, probably remembering just like you were, what had happened when you had fallen. “Only a few, actually,” you said, forcing yourself to keep your eyes locked on Cassian.

“Impressive. You gonna be playing hockey with us anytime soon?”

You forced out a laugh. “Definitely not. I’ll need a lot more lessons if I have any hope of that.”

Azriel finally looked at you, offering you the faintest of smiles. “Whenever you want another lesson, just let me know.”

“Okay,” you said casually, turning your attention back to your plate.

You got through the rest of the party without incident, which was impressive considering all the lingering, discreet touches that Azriel kept giving you.

Azriel came to your apartment after the party had ended. As soon as he walked through the door, he had you up against the wall, kissing you fiercely.

“You were driving me crazy,” you gasped as he kissed down your neck.

He laughed into your skin. “You think you weren’t doing the same to me?”

His hands trailed from your face, down your body, lingering on your hips before landing on your ass.

You moaned quietly, taking his hand in yours and leading him to your bedroom.

He raised his eyebrows in question as you closed the door behind you.

Wordlessly, you stepped up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. It started out slowly, gently, but quickly turned heated.

Grabbing the front of his shirt, you pulled him towards your bed and fell back onto it, tugging on his hand to pull him down over you. You toyed with the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his head and tossing it to the side.

Your hands explored his abs, his shoulders, your breath catching at the pure muscle as he kissed your neck down to your collarbone.

When your hands settled on his belt buckle and started undoing it, Azriel caught your wrist, stilling you. He looked into your eyes, flooded with emotion. “Are you sure?”

You cupped his cheek, studying his face for a moment, your heart swelling with love. “I’m sure.”

He smiled for a moment, leaning in to kiss you gently before he let go of your wrist. Your hands wandered back down and slowly undid his belt buckle, pushing his pants down past his hips, and he kicked them off from there, not breaking his kiss.

He pulled back slightly to look at you as he slid the straps of your dress down your arms, kissing your bare shoulders, your exposed chest. He slid your dress down further, just past your breasts. He hummed happily as he ran his tongue over one nipple, his fingers toying with the other. Your toes curled as he raked his teeth along your chest.

Azriel kept pulling your dress down slowly, kissing his way gently down your stomach, down your legs, until the dress was tossed to the floor.

“You’re everything,” he murmured, his gaze raking down your naked body.

You smiled, your heart thundering as you placed your hands on either side of his face and pulled him into a kiss.

He kissed his way back down your body then, pausing momentarily at your panties, before looking up to you with a smirk, and pulling them down your legs with his teeth.

You gasped as he settled between your legs, licking a line straight up your center, before his tongue dove into you, while his thumb pressed on your clit.

“Azriel,” you moaned, burying your hands in his hair.

This just spurred him on further, as he took your ankles in his hands and wrapped your legs around his head, burying himself even deeper in you.

“Az,” you groaned after a while. “I need you.”

He looked up at you, grinning, before sitting up on his knees, sliding his boxers off, and settling himself over you, his eyes locked on yours. “You ready for me?”

You nodded, your hand threading through the hair at the back of his neck as the other clutched his shoulder. “Please.”

Azriel smiled, nuzzling your nose with his for a moment before he kissed you sweetly, as he slowly slid into you inch by inch.

He paused when he was fully inside you, pulling back slightly to study your face.

“I’m good,” you smiled. “More. Now. Please.”

He chuckled, then did as he was told, sliding in and out of you in slow, deep thrusts.

You groaned, your hands sliding down his muscled back as he leaned down, resting his head in the crook of your neck, sighing contentedly into your skin.

Together you moved in tandem, until you both found your release, gasping.

Azriel rolled off of you, pulling your body against his, holding you close. You felt so safe and content, you couldn’t believe it had taken the two of you so long to get to this point.

---

The locker room was empty before the game started. His teammates knew that Azriel often liked to be alone, especially before important games. If they won tonight, they would be in the playoffs. Tensions were high for everyone.

He was pulling his gear on when you came up behind him, leaning against one of the lockers. You were wearing the team’s colors, your hair tied up with red and gold ribbons, just like the first time he saw you. His heart leaped, as it always did. “How are you feeling?” You asked.

Azriel shrugged, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you to him, resting his chin on the top of your head. “Better now that you’re here.”

You smiled, leaning into his chest. “You’ve got it, Az.”

He placed his index finger under your chin, gently tilting your face up to look at him. “Thank you for being here,” he said, kissing you softly.

Suddenly, you heard someone coming into the locker room, and the two of you sprung apart. Azriel ushered you out the opposite door, into the hallway, near the locker room for the other team.

The two of you breathed a sigh of relief, and Azriel couldn’t help but bring your body to his again. It calmed him down, settled his nerves, to be close to you.

You tilted your face up to meet his lips in a kiss, and the world melted away until a player from the other team walked out of the locker room, smirking at the two of you.

“Casey,” Azriel said, his hand resting on the small of your back, trying to keep his cool. He didn’t know Casey well, but he did know that he was an asshole.

Casey looked between the two of you, smirking, before sauntering away without a word.

Azriel immediately located you as he and his team went out onto the ice. You were out of your seat, clapping and cheering, your eyes locked on him, your smile bright.

By the second period, Azriel’s team was up two to one, and the other team seemed to be feeling the heat.

Casey smirked at Azriel as they faced off before the buzzer sounded. “Who was that you were getting cozy with, huh Azriel? Didn't seem like you wanted anyone to know you were with her.”

Azriel knew that he was being baited. He tried to reign in his temper, to keep his cool. He tried to remind himself how important this game was, that he couldn’t afford a penalty right now.

But then Casey said, “I can see why. She's not exactly spotlight material, is she?”

A growl released from deep in Azriel’s throat, and he launched himself at Casey, slamming him into the ice, before reeling his arm back and connecting his fist with Casey’s jaw.

Within moments, he was being pulled away and sent to the penalty box, his head spinning, wondering how the hell he was going to explain this to his teammates, to Cassian. He cursed himself for letting Casey get to him, for knowing exactly which buttons to push.

---

Luckily, they still won the game, despite Azriel’s outburst at the beginning of the final period. You couldn’t comprehend what could have possibly happened to get this reaction from him, and you felt awful as you watched him sitting solemnly in the penalty box while Cassian tried to pull the team together and keep their lead.

You left right after the game, not wanting to get involved in whatever you knew would go down between Azriel and Cassian.

Later, after Azriel asked you to come over to his apartment, you practically raced over there, dying to know what happened.

As soon as he opened the door, his arms were around you, holding you to him like you were the only thing keeping his feet on the ground.

“Are you okay?”

He sighed, kissing the top of your head. “I’m getting there. Cassian chewed me out, but I think we’re okay.”

“What happened?” You asked.

“It was the guy who saw us out in the hallway. He was… he was talking about you. I knew he was baiting me, but I still couldn’t keep it in.”

“It was because of me?”

“No,” he said, running his thumb along your cheekbone. “It was because of him. He just must have known what would make me mad.”

You stood up on your tiptoes to kiss him lightly. “I’m sorry. What did you tell Cassian?”

“That I was feeling tense because of the playoffs, and he baited me,” he raised one shoulder into a shrug. “He didn’t ask for specifics.”

“Well, I’m glad you guys are okay. Congrats on making the playoffs, by the way,” you smiled.

Azriel smiled faintly, leaning down to kiss you sweetly. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

You sighed, leaning into him further. “We’re going to have to tell him.”

“I know,” he said. “Soon.”

The two of you looked at each other, anchoring yourselves in one another.

---

For weeks, Azriel had been traveling all over the country with the team for the playoffs, and the two of you had kept in contact as much as possible, face timing whenever Azriel could get alone and texting as often as he could.

Finally, they were playing at home again, the last game before the championship. You didn't want to be a distraction for Az, so you went right to your seat, as close to the ice as you could get.

You watched them play with bated breath, your eyes glued to Azriel as he soared across the ice. Just before the end of the second period, Azriel made a slapshot, the puck flying right between the goalie's legs and into the net, bringing your team ahead by one.

The fans erupted into a thunderous applause and as the buzzer sounded, Azriel's eyes locked on you, a grin on his face, his eyes shining. You had no idea how he always managed to find you in a sea of people, but it sent butterflies through your chest every single time.

The energy was high as the players moved into the final period. It seemed like Az's team would take the win without much of a fight from the opponents until the unimaginable happened.

The opponent’s center roughly checked Azriel's shoulder, and when Az stumbled, the center slammed Azriel into the wall, hard. Azriel collapsed onto the ground and another player collided with him.

Even from where you were, you could hear Azriel cry out as he brought his leg up to his chest, wincing in pain.

“Azriel!” You shot up from your seat immediately, racing to the other side of the tunnel where you knew they would take him, praying that they would let you through.

In the chaos, nobody batted an eye at you, and you were waiting for him when Azriel limped into the tunnel, the coach and Cassian holding him up on either side.

“Az!” You cried, tears brimming in your eyes as you ran up to him, unable to think about the consequences, or anything other than him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as gently as you could, and he snaked an arm around your waist. “I'm okay,” he said.

Cassian looked between the two of you, his brow furrowed. “What are you freaking out about? It's probably just a sprain.”

“Oh,” you said hesitantly, forcing yourself to take a step back, out of reach. You looked up at Azriel though. “Are you sure? You looked like you were in a lot of pain.”

He smiled faintly at you, his eyes twinkling. You could tell that he appreciated that you were concerned about him. “Nothing I can't handle.”

Cassian continued to look between the two of you skeptically, then cleared his throat. “I need to get back out there.”

Azriel nodded to both Cassian and their coach. “I can make it by myself.”

They seemed to hesitate, but nodded, and you helped Azriel make his way to see the medics.

After his ankle was wrapped and it was proven to be just a sprain, you sat with Azriel, running your hand through his hair, leaning against him.

“You were really worried about me back there, huh?” He smiled, kissing your temple.

“Of course I was! I--” you broke off hastily, stopping yourself from saying what you had been feeling for weeks now.

He looked at you expectantly though, raising an eyebrow. “You… what?”

You took a deep breath, and looked into his eyes, placing a hand on his cheek. “I love you, Az.”

His eyes swarmed with emotions for a moment before a smile lit up his face and he kissed you. “I love you, too,” he said.

Moments later, the team rushed into the space, whooping and cheering.

You grinned at Azriel, “Looks like you guys are going to the championship.”

Azriel's smile grew, and he pulled you to him, laughing, before kissing the top of your head.

“I knew it,” Cassian's voice cut through the noise, and you and Azriel froze, looking up to find him staring at the two of you.

“Cass-” you started, but he cut you off.

“What the fuck, guys? How long has this been going on?”

You glanced at Azriel, who settled his hand at your waist comfortingly before looking up to Cassian. “A few months.”

“Months?” Cassian asked incredulously. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“We weren't sure how you would react,” you said quietly, shrinking into Azriel's side slightly.

Cassian scoffed. “You know what's worse than my best friend dating my little sister? Both of them lying to me about it for months.”

“Cass-” you tried again, but he held up a hand to stop you.

“If we keep talking about this now, I'm going to say something I'll regret,” he said, his voice low.

He left without another word, throwing a final harrowing glance back at the two of you.

Your heart sank.

---

For days, Cassian avoided Azriel at practice, and from what he’d heard, Cassian wasn’t talking to you at all either.

“Come on, Cass,” Azriel groaned after practice. “Please talk to me?”

Cassian rounded on him, his eyes burning. “About what? What do you want to talk about?” he said furiously. But then all the tension left his body suddenly and he just looked at Azriel sadly. “She’s my sister, Az. How could you keep this from me?”

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “We thought it would be best until we… figured things out. We didn’t want to get you all freaked out if it didn’t go anywhere.”

“And is it? Going anywhere?” Cassian asked.

Azriel swallowed, he felt his jaw tick. “I love her, Cassian. And she loves me.”

Cassian swore, rolling his eyes. “So at what point were you going to tell me?”

“I -- don’t know,” Azriel said honestly. “I’m so sorry. We both are.”

They were both silent for a moment, until Cassian blew out a breath and said, “Just give me some time, okay? I’m happy for you both, but… I’m going to need time to stop being pissed at you both for lying to me.”

Azriel nodded, partially relieved. Time, he could handle.

The championship game finally came, and though Azriel and Cassian weren’t quite at the point that they used to be, things were slowly getting better between them.

Cassian gathered the team before the game, hyping them up, always the strong captain leading his troops into battle.

The game went by quickly, and every time Azriel would feel some pain in his ankle or get caught up in the stress or the pressure, his eyes would find you, and your smile would ground him, help him lock back into the game, to the task at hand.

There were only a few seconds left in the game when Azriel found an opening, slapping the puck past the goalie and into the net.

The crowd cheered, but Azriel only had eyes for you. You formed your hands into a heart and held it up toward him as you cheered, blowing him a kiss.

The final buzzer sounded off, and everyone celebrated around him, yelling and thumping their chests, thrusting their hockey sticks into the air. Cassian was about to hand him the trophy, but Azriel smirked before skating over to where you were waiting on the sidelines, lifting you up and setting you onto the ice before bending you over his arm and kissing you like he’s never kissed anyone before.

He could feel you smile against his lips, your hands gripping him for dear life.

Later, after interviews and photos and speeches, Azriel pulled his jersey over his head and tossed it to you.

You looked up at him, your eyes dancing with amusement before you slipped it over your head. It was huge on you, and you laughed as you rolled up the sleeves and the hem, tucking it into the front of your jeans.

“How does it look?”

He growled quietly, pulling your body into his. “Like I want to hear you scream my name while you wear nothing but the jersey.”

Your eyes widened, biting your lip.

Before Azriel could get any further into his fantasies though, Cassian sauntered up to the two of you, smiling.

“Hey, it’s my brother, the captain of the champions!” you grinned, bounding up to him and giving him a hug.

Cassian grinned, wrapping his arms around you.

“Look,” he said, leveling you both with a serious expression as you pulled away and went back to Azriel’s side. “I love you both, and I’m happy for you, so I’m not going to hold a grudge. It must be the real thing if Az just blew off the trophy like it was nothing,” Cassian smirked at Azriel. “But don’t lie to me ever again,” he said.

“We won’t,” you cut in quickly, looking at Cassian with pleading eyes. “We’re so sorry, Cass.”

“I know you are,” Cassian said. “Now, let’s go celebrate, shall we?”

Azriel guided you through the huge party long into the night, not taking his hand off you for a moment, showing the whole world who his heart belonged to.

@loving-and-dreaming @birdsflyhome @hanuh @sheblogs @iambored24601 @thalia-as-blog @melmo567 @evergreenlark @ecliphttlunar @bookloverandalsocats @headacheseason @sillysillygoose444 @yourqueenlilith @mariamay02 @halibshepherd @azrielshadows1nger @cigvrette-dvydrevms @andreperez11

#acotar fic #acotar one shot #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel one shot #acotar #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel fluff #azriel #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel #azriel imagine #azriel modern au #azriel hockey #azriel smut #azriel fic #azriel fanfiction #request

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crookedteethed · 3 days

Text

18+

⋆ ★ for what its worth, it's not a bad thing that rafe fantasizes about his little (step)sister.

A/N: This was suppose to be a full fic, but I forgot where I was going with this and now I'm just trying to clear out my drafts 😭 Also, barely proofread.

Rafe often thought about how snug your tight little cunt would fit around his length. He wondered about the type of sound that would escape your plump lips the moment he first sheaths himself inside of you, he imagined it’ll be lewd whimper sound, analogous to a baby kittens purr.

He’d like the idea of taking you raw, taking you raw with no sort of preparation. Of course, you’d be wet, he thought. But it wouldn’t be enough lubrication in the world to get you accustomed to his size.

But that’s what Rafe liked. He’d like your aching pain at the expense of his aching pleasure, and boy did he ache.

You’ll be begging him, and god does he love your begging.

“Rafe s’too big” you’d whine or “Rafe, it’snot going to fit.”

He’d smirk at himself and continue to slowly sink into your cunt because your callow mind wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between the ache his fingers could cause you or his swollen red tip—which would be how far he’d gotten inside you before you started to whine.

When he’s fully inside you, he’d still. Enveloping himself in the delicious pleasure of your warm, velvet cunt. He’d be flourishing in every little squeeze or spasm you’d make, and he feels like he’s going to bust his load on the spot.

But it’d be something more to it then just your warm cunt squeezing him, or your little whimpers.

It’ll be the sheer thought that he was inside the only girl he knew he couldn’t have on the island, which in the years have made you desirable, and made him want you even more.

And for what it’s worth, it’s not like you were his blood sister or anything. And it wasn't like the two of you had grown up side by side all your lives like say him and Sarah.

So when Rafe saw you that morning, a little sleep in your eyes, and in a pair of tiny sleep shorts that made your ass look so plump, he knew Ward or your mother would have a fit if they saw you walking around the house in them; he saw it as a sign that you wanted to fuck him too, just like he dreamed of fucking you.

So, tonight may be the night, he thought. Ward and your mother'll be out on buisness, Sarah and Wheezie with their friends somewhere, leaving you all alone at Tannyhill.

He'll postpone the plans he had made with Top and Kelce that night, as tonight was going to be the night Rafe finally got to fuck his little (step) sister.

#crookedteethed #fem reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #the outer banks #rafe outer banks #rafecameron x stepsister #rafe cameron stepcest #tw stepcest #fanfiction

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nuumbie · 2 days

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Trust Fall

Prompt: An elite member of the organization Fractsidius… Scar appears before you in order to explain his beliefs… so you may understand all you have to gain by joining forces and hands and to change the world with them all.

You’re weirdly open to the idea.

Author’s Note: Crack Territory. Surprisingly Wholesome? As wholesome as a Scar Fic can be. He’s a weirdo. This is the kindest fic I currently have. Technically, can be read platonic or romantic adjacent... ( He is flirting with you. You don’t exactly return it. ) Please send me Scar Fics. Otherwise I’ll need to make them all myself. Carry the weight of the world on my shoulders.

The face of the legendary resonator, his fellow black sheep, his fellow revolutionary in the new world if they had merely opened their heart enough to let them all inside. Well, you could have worn a more dynamic expression. You eyebrows are knit together, their mouth is curved into a frown. In all honesty? A little underwhelming of a reaction especially considering he's sent their little friend. ( A girl. You’re surrounded by girls! It's scary how every time he blinks it's like another one surrounds you. You're too popular! ) Where was he?

Oh, right.

He sent them to The Shadow Realm. Not like he actually hurt her! Well, he could have! To be honest a part of him wished to. Already planting ideas into your head. Getting you on their side. But he chose not to. First Impressions matter a lot. He even wore his nice pair of pants instead of the easy access ones he usually wears just for this moment. The others all gave him all this time so he even had a moment alone! With you. So of course it had to be special! Even though he was sure you'd share many moments. Just like this. "Well, well, well... we finally meet."

"You're... Scar, right?" It's such a coincidence she bought up his name! You don't know a thing. But everything falls into place so you're exactly where you need to be-- you truly are lucky. While Scar? Well, the fact you already know of his name means you know of all the foul, horrible, nicknames she's called him. An already dirty image in your head with his name attached. "Where did you put her?"

You have your hand on your sword. Pointed directly at his neck. He goes to tap it to the side. Away from his face. He already has plenty of stories for how he got all of these scars. Well, maybe he can get another. One specially made by you. Permanent proof of you.

Not bad at all. He casually goes to play with the sword in your hands, putting it back where you planned on threatening him and he leans just close enough so that if you wished you could drive it into his skull. Like a trust-fall! A trust-exercise between you both to see if you'd behave or try to crack him open like an egg. Smiling through the gap between you and the steel edge of your blade. "She's irrelevant. If she were here. She'd add a lot of meaningless dialogue. Right now I wish for your full, undivided, attention."

"Allow me to share with you my side of the story."

He raises his neck for your eyes. It isn't like he covers it up. But it's rare for him to brandish this mark so callously for others. It’s for you! It’s special for you. "I've been watching over you... to think you've forgotten everything."

"They're all fighting for you." He looks through his fingers-- undeniably you're you. Your confused expression gazes back at him. He winks at it. You squint your eyes even harder. He takes it as a win. ( He’s gained lots and lots of personal multiple little wins while watching you. ) "Wishing to use you and drain you of all of your worth. Despite being a human person, they've used you the moment they found you had an inch of worth. While we are no different..."

"We wished to be honest with you." He smiles as he steps closer. He notices how your hold on the blade tightens. You hold it still. It does not stutter or tremble. He leans in close enough that the outline of his neck is at the knife of the blade. "To allow you to understand us. We've been granted precious alone time. I'm here to show you we are not the villains...—“

He expected that if you did fight back. You'd hit him with your blade. Then he'd know to go to the next phase of the plan -- i.e. beat you up. Show you why they’re stronger. So the human, more basal part of you, would understand why not to resist and prove their worth through overtaking you. Offer to join the winning side.

It seems that's not what you're going to do.

"Let me stop you there." You step back and sheathe your blade. You've been exceptionally quiet. Mouth closed in a thin line. Eyebrows furrowed. Handsome. Beautiful. An odd mix of both words.. As he watched over you-- the most you said had to do with what that red-headed girl ( Chia? Chilichuck? What was her name? God. He basically ignored every word of theirs besides your dialogues.. your friends really did talk a lot.. The red-headed one with the gun especially annoyed him. ) And food. This is by all means a pleasant surprise. "Does everyone in this god-forsaken world speak in riddles?"

"Oh, but we have so much time! To explain it all would be no fun. It'd ruin the game." He widens his arms and shrugs his shoulders, showcasing the sight of the destruction behind him. "Besides, you wouldn't believe it if I told you. Would you? You have to come to conclusions on your own for them to matter. It's just me and you. No need to rush. Just trust the process."

You laugh at that for some reason. Scar clocks it. But, the fact you stop glaring seems like a good sign. Your smile is nice. So it does have the ability to be his way. Though, it appears you're laughing at him. He cherishes his victories however small and frames it on his mind-wall. "A town on the brink of destruction... if it wasn't us... how did it fall? A story of false devotion, fleeting kindness, senseless killings and the worst humanity has to offer... of course... there is only one truth. But history can take many different meanings dependent on the person. This is a world filled with oppressors and victims and..."

"That's not what I mean." Hm? Hmm? Hmmm...? "You're playing around. You wish to show me how sick this world is. You wish to understand how I'm being manipulated... that was your point from earlier... right? Stick with that. Are you trying to get me on your side or what? I'm tired of being dragged around."

Scar... has to take a moment... to process your words. Not really expecting... that. "Oh...? So you are listening! I’m glad! Well... inevitably. Yes, that is the point I wished to make. You and I are the same you see... both of us are outcasts... a story of a shepherd, it’s flock, and a black sheep—“ he does have a point to make, he thought really hard about the symbolism before coming here so it was easy to digest and everything.

"I'll join you." You hold out your hand towards his. "Scar, that's your name right? I'll join you right now. I'm not in the mood to play any more mind-games. If I join you. You don’t have reason to not tell me, right? You promised.”

Scar's world lights up.

He stares at your hand. It’s the one with your resonator mark no less— offered out to him. A sign of trust. An offer of companionship. You wiggle your fingers and ahem rather loudly. He immediately takes your hand with both of his own. Maybe a bit too frantically. Maybe a touch too desperately. The closeness is surprising to even him.

He studies your hand. He doesn’t remember the last time anyone’s offered their to his. And you did so unprompted. He feels the weight of your hand in his own. And he almost forgets what he’s here for—

"..." "Seriously?"

"Why are you acting surprised? Why did you even bother to meet me here if you weren't even open to the possibility of me joining you? Was it to sow the seeds? Slow-burn me? I'm not nearly as patient as you all seem to think I am." You cross your arms and huff. "Are you suddenly questioning whether or not I'm the resonator you're looking for? You're right. I don't remember anything. I'm not the hero anyone expects me to be. I'm not what you want from me either." “I want you to prove yourselves to me. You said you’re the ones in the right… that the others are just trying to use me.” You linger on those words. “If that’s true… well… you’re clearly suspicious, mentally deranged, to be honest I was tempted to hit you really bad just now... but... I don't exactly doubt your words. Every single person I've met has been..."

"Reliant on me." You gaze at the mark on the back of your wrist. "This is an equation of my worth. I can't disagree. No matter how hard I try to. That in itself is proof you have a point. So… it’s an avenue worth exploring.”

"..." "....." "Aha... ahahahaa... ahaaa... seriously?!" Scar doesn’t remember to use his indoor voice. He remembers after you jump a little. Doing his best to whisper. "Wait, no, that's bad. Oh, I'm so sorry... I was right... they... did use you as a pawn... and they made it so obvious… That you immediately..."

"You chose me." Scar is giddy. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling even if he wanted to. Each word. He falls a little deeper. "You weren't even forced into a corner. I didn't even have to make you do it.”

“You’re already understanding of how alone we are in this world…!”

"You're not really different from them. You just admit to it." You sigh. "You're worse in a way. I'd doubt they'd force me to help them."

You're insulting him but he's still on cloud nine-- you're joining them aren’t you? Purposefully reaching in to touch the filth you apparently so despite! Ah, they're hardly ready! They'd thought this take much longer... it's true. He doubted you would believe him. Believe any of them. Maybe the villainous appearance and rumors of sociopathy, psychopathy, and all of that doesn't quite help.

Whoopsies. ( He isn't very sorry. You chose him regardless and you would have anyway because he knows at the end of the road you would’ve realized the hopelessness and that you had no choice and all. But you chose him over them and saw through their deceit. Him. Him. Him. He’s the one who got you to change your mind— ) He really can’t find it in himself to care about how menacing he seems. His smile’s just too hard to wipe off…

"I want to understand the world you're fighting for." You sigh. "You see yourself in me, right? You were projecting pretty hard on me earlier... So the world you're trying to make..."

"It's a world which is better for me. And... I can't help but to wonder if you're not wholly in the wrong." You rub your wrist. Like the mark of skin burns. "I want to see.. how worse it gets... I want to see what you've seen. I'm just opening myself for understanding. Isn't that what you wanted? An open, honest, discussion.”

"You do have purpose behind the evil, right? I'm not going to join and you make me blow up an orphanage or something… you're morally-grey bad at worst." You pause to consider. "I don't really have a point of reference for the terrible things you've done actually. Maybe we can put this on hold until I get one-"

"No, no, no! Noooo orphanages! We're not monsters." Scar pouts. "You'll see, okay? I’m going to show you all the horrors! Then you’ll get it. We’re ultimately in the right.”

“You knocked out Yangyang.” You sigh. Detached. But the sentiment behind the words is there.

"So they did get you to care." Scar hums. "Shed your worries. Such useless feelings do little good... she'll be fine... see? We are willing to reason! This whole talk was to prove we can communicate. She wouldn’t listen to me. She wouldn’t even look at me. She’d keep us apart and spread her little lies.”

Okay, maybe he’s a bit jealous. Why was she so exceptionally close to you? He doesn’t even mind the gossip. Everyone talks to him like that. Looks at him in that way without ever understanding.

He’s the one who should have been offering free dinners, doing small little romanticisms, giving you small yearning gestures with you, not her. And he will from this point onward! And he will be the one to do it. Even if he has to pry you from the others…

( Seriously, why are you so popular? It just isn’t fair! He’s going to be fighting for crumbs when he brings you back to the base. He just can’t win. )

“If I shed all my worries then won’t I just be the same as any other sheep? It’s the wool that makes them look different.” You sigh while rubbing your arm. “What even is that metaphor about…?”

“Oh. I did use that metaphor, didn’t I? Yes, with fur so black! It was obvious against the rest of the flock… for black sheep are the outsiders! Those who go against the grain—“ Scar responds dumbly. Rambling, because he really is so happy! He's got you right where he wants you! You're not struggling, nor running away, you've walked right into his arms! And he didn’t plan this far at all. So, his mind’s a bit fumbled. This is the best first date likely in the history of ever. Though, he notices your unimpressed look. Thus, he straightens his back and smiles as gentlemanly he can muster pounding his fist against his own chest considering you’ve made it a point that you hate long-talk. “— anyway, yes, shepherd evil, white sheep stupid, black sheep good.“

He looks at you to see how well you’ve taken his shortened explanation. You use your other hand to facepalm. ( He hasn’t let go of your arm. He realizes. You haven’t pulled your arm back. This sparks joy. This sparks incredible joy. He holds it even tighter. And you don’t even struggle. )

“I should have done the puzzle first. Lacking lots of subtext.” Is what you put together from his explanation. “Just explain on the way. Come on. I’ll lose brain cells if I’m here for any longer.”

Right.

He’s taking you home. You’re still not gone. You’re here with him.

You’re with him.

"Ahaha.” he rambles, graining traction as his grin grows more manic, he can feel his skin getting hotter, the urge to hold you tightly within his hands and explain growing stronger with each passing moment, every second, every millisecond. It’s a feeling you wish to feel forever. “You want to listen to me.”

And he will feel it forever. He’ll make it so. He doesn’t have to wait any longer.

"There’s so much to tell you. About this world.” he cackles, loudly, his voice crackling throughout the air with a reinvigorated passion as he leans close to your ear to whisper with as much love as his dried up little heart has. Putting it all for you. “And I’ll tell you about all of it.”

"Okay. I seriously don’t know how the hell you expected me to trust you." You whisper. Tired? Yes. Terribly so. You so hope Yangyang can't hear him. From wherever he's put her. Shadow Realm or whatever. "You’re making me regret this already—“

"NO!" he rushes forward and leap-hugs you. "Noooo take-backs. You already said it! So you can’t take it back. That’s how it works. When you say it. It’s forever.”

“That’s not how it works-“

"You're all mine, forever.”

"Agh-- hey!" You yelp... a touch high-pitched. He squeezes you tightly and you see the flash of smoke-- Yangyang's passed out body on the ground. You shut your eyes, awkwardly looking away. You’ll know she’ll be saved soon. “I’m coming. I’m coming, okay?”

Perhaps you're even better than his wildest dreams. Well, he'd love you as much regardless. Whether or not you came now or later. This is a drastic changes of plans. But a pleasant one.

His cards fly through the air and they capture you both-- you hold onto him. His laugher resonating loudly, a wicked sound which is proof of the choice you’ve made. A choice you’ve made which you certainly can’t entirely turn back from no matter how hard you try to reverse you’re being taken along.

More like dragged. He’s holding your hand like you’ll run if you don’t. ( He’s not exactly wrong. ) You just awkwardly hold back. Unaware you don’t even need to be touching him to get warp-jumped.

He doesn’t exactly tell you either or warn you or do anything to stop you. Instead encouraging it by opening his arms out so you can hold on properly.

As you’re flashed away through a red door… the person you’ve decided to trust manically laughing as you phase through that door. “There’s so much… to tell you! Well let’s start at the very beginning…!”

No matter where you are you’re susceptible to lore dumps. At least he’s excited about it. You wonder how long he’s been holding this in.

You close your eyes tight and just hold on tight as you embrace your new life.

Again.

#wuwa #x reader #wuwa spoilers #🗑️ trash writes #wuwa x reader #wuthering waves #wuwa is so unfair with his name #so so unfair . need him. i’m starved. scarved. ar 20. don’t know what his problem is #my stupid babygirl husband who beats the shit out of me and begs me to like him #of course I like him .#entirely based on what scraps of content I have #by all means could prove extremely ooc later #he’s giving suguru geto though with that explanation 😭😭😭#wuthering waves x reader

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nayziiz · 2 days

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Hungry | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader (you)

Author's note: A little fluff in honour of his Monaco win.

Masterlist

The memory of many anguished nights flashed through your mind like a montage. You remembered the way he clenched your shirt until his knuckles turned white, the self-doubt etched in his features as he whispered about the weight of expectations. His father sacrificed so much to get Charles to that point, and his godfather, undeniably talented, had only added to the legacy he was expected to uphold. Through all that doubt and insecurity, you were the silent witness to his struggles, the steady rock in the turbulent sea of his emotions.

But today, all of that was behind him. The sun cast a golden glow on the podium, and the crowd’s roar was deafening, an ocean of sound that seemed to lift him higher. The other drivers, his fiercest competitors, now stood below, clapping and smiling in genuine respect. The victory was not just a win; it was a vindication, a triumphant answer to every fear and insecurity that had haunted him. He had won his home race in Monaco. He was indeed the racing Prince of Monaco.

His eyes, searching through the sea of faces, found yours. There was a moment—a brief, heart-stopping moment—when the world seemed to pause. His smile widened, and you saw the tears in his eyes, a mirror of your own. He raised the trophy high, and the sunlight caught on the gleaming surface, scattering sparkles of light.

You thought about the sacrifices, the missed birthdays, the holidays spent apart, the nights you lay awake in an empty bed. It had all led to this moment. He had chased his dream with a relentless drive, and you had been right there beside him, every step of the way. Now, as the national anthem played and the flag was raised, you felt a surge of pride so intense it was almost overwhelming.

The scent of champagne filled the air, mingling with the heady smell of burnt rubber and gasoline. The spray of the champagne was like a baptism, a cleansing of all past failures and disappointments. As he descended from the podium, surrounded by a throng of well-wishers, you knew that his journey was far from over, but this victory was a milestone—a beacon of hope for all the races yet to come.

He reached you, his steps quickening as he approached. The crowd seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of shared emotion. He pulled you into a tight embrace, the trophy cool against your back. You felt his heartbeat, fast and strong, a rhythm that matched your own.

“You did it,” you whispered, your voice choking with tears.

“We did it,” he corrected, his voice trembling. He pulled back slightly to look into your eyes. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

You smiled through your tears, knowing that this moment, this victory, was as much yours as it was his. You had both crossed a finish line today, together.

The celebrations didn’t stop on the podium; they carried well into the night and into the early morning. After the podium ceremony, a whirlwind of congratulations and interviews, the festivities moved into the city. The streets were alive with the hum of excitement, fans and friends eager to share in the joy of his triumph. The night began at a fancy restaurant, where a private room had been reserved for the champion and his closest circle.

He barely let go of your hand, keeping you close and by his side at all times. The room buzzed with laughter and the clinking of glasses, the air thick with the aroma of gourmet food. Toasts were made, speeches filled with heartfelt words of admiration and pride. He looked at you often, his eyes saying more than words ever could. Each time someone praised him for his determination and skill, he squeezed your hand, silently acknowledging your part in his journey.

From the restaurant, the celebration flowed seamlessly to a club, the music pulsating with energy that mirrored the elation in his heart. The dim lights and vibrant colours created a dreamlike atmosphere, a stark contrast to the gruelling days of training and the harsh light of the racetrack. Here, in this place of revelry, he danced with a freedom you had rarely seen, his movements fluid and uninhibited. Yet, even amidst the crowd, he kept you close, his hand firm around yours, as if letting go would break the spell of the night.

He didn’t care about his trophy, which had already been safely tucked away in your shared apartment. What mattered to him was having you there to celebrate with him, to embrace your role in his success. Every time someone raised a glass to his victory, he turned to you, his gaze filled with gratitude and love. He introduced you to everyone, his pride evident as he spoke about your unwavering support, how you had been his anchor, his confidant, his greatest source of strength.

Hours passed like minutes, the night blending into early morning. As the first light of dawn began to filter through the club’s windows, Charles finally made the call to go home. He was exhausted and his body hurt more than he was willing to admit. The adrenaline from the race and the euphoria of the celebration had kept him going, but now the physical toll of the day was undeniable.

You both stumbled into your apartment, giggling like teenagers in love as you finally managed to remove your heels from your feet. The cool floor was a welcome relief, and you let out a contented sigh. Charles, meanwhile, collapsed on the couch, his head leaning back, eyes half-closed but still watching you with a tender smile.

“You okay over there, champ?” you teased, leaning against the arm of the couch to look at him.

“I’m more than okay,” he replied, his voice a mix of exhaustion and happiness. “I’m perfect.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you made your way over to him. “Come on, you need to get out of those clothes and into bed.”

He groaned in agreement but didn’t move, his body too spent to cooperate. You knelt down and helped him untie his shoes, slipping them off his feet and setting them aside. He watched you with a grateful expression, his eyes filled with love.

“You don’t have to take care of me, you know,” he murmured, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“You take care of me all the time,” you countered, smiling as you stood up and extended your hand. “Now it’s my turn.”

With some effort, you managed to pull him to his feet. He swayed slightly, and you steadied him, your arms wrapped around his waist as you guided him to the bedroom. The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. It felt like a sanctuary, a safe haven after the whirlwind of the night.

Charles sat on the edge of the bed, and you helped him out of his shirt, revealing the lean, muscled frame beneath. You couldn’t help but admire the way his skin glistened slightly with sweat, a testament to the physical demands of his sport. He caught your gaze and chuckled softly.

“See something you like?” he teased, his voice playful despite his exhaustion.

“Always,” you replied, your tone sincere as you leaned in to kiss him. “Now lie down and get some rest.”

“This has been the best day of my life, Thank you for being here with me, for everything.” he whispered, his breath warm against your neck.

You hugged him tightly, your heart swelling with love. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

When you stepped away to take off your dress, Charles’ eyes remained locked on your body.

“Now who’s staring?” you teased, glancing over your shoulder with a playful smirk.

“I’m just hungry,” he responded, his gaze unwavering.

“Oh, you want me to make you something?” you asked innocently, unclipping your bra and turning around to look for a pyjama set.

“No, no. But you can turn around,” he insisted. You did as he requested, feeling his eyes on you, every movement intensified by his attention. “Why would I want anything other than the full buffet in front of me?”

“You’re cheesy as hell, Mr. Leclerc. It’s a good thing you’re cute. And, a Monaco Grand Prix winner,” you teased, walking towards him with a deliberate sway in your hips until you were right between his legs.

He reached out, his hands resting on your hips as he looked up at you with a mix of admiration and desire.

“I’m serious. You’re everything I could ever want," he said softly.

You felt a warmth spread through you, not just from his words but from the sincerity in his eyes. Leaning down, you placed your hands on his shoulders, feeling the tension and exhaustion in his muscles.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you replied, your voice gentle. “Now, let’s get you to bed.”

He grinned, tugging you closer until you were straddling his lap.

“Maybe just a few more minutes like this,” he murmured, his lips finding yours in a tender kiss. You melted into him, the connection between you both a balm to the long and arduous journey to this point. Breaking the kiss, you looked into his eyes, brushing his hair from his forehead.

“Only a few more minutes. Then we both need to sleep,” you agreed with a smile. He nodded, his hands caressing your back as he held you close.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. “For everything.”

You kissed him again, softly, conveying all the love and support you felt for him. “I’ll always be here for you, Charles. Always.”

With that, you both changed into your sleepwear and crawled into bed together, limbs entwined, hearts beating in perfect sync. As he drifted off to sleep, his breathing deep and even, you lay awake a little longer, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your hand.

The first rays of morning light began to peek through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. You knew that this moment, this feeling, was something you would cherish forever. The journey had been challenging, but it had brought you to this point—wrapped in the arms of the man you loved, celebrating his victory, and looking forward to a future filled with hope and promise.

Finally, you allowed yourself to close your eyes, the warmth of his embrace and the softness of the bed lulling you into a peaceful sleep. Whatever the future held, you knew you would face it together, side by side, every step of the way.

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the-californicationist · 1 day

Text

Pas de Deux

For @glitterypirateduck's May 2024 Ghost challenge (item #100)!

I don't write Ghost, but I love Duck too much to pass it up. <3

You invited your brother, Kyle, to come and watch your performance as Odette in Swan Lake. He makes it to the theatre, but he brings his friends. That's when you fall head over heels for Simon Riley.

You’d begged your brother to come to your final performance. You needed him there, needed to feel him in the crowd, even if you couldn’t see him out there. Kyle promised he would be there, and as you went through your pre-show routine, you hoped he would be true to his word.

You knew it was difficult for him to get away from work. You’d left him with four tickets, asking him to invite his mates, if that would make it easier. You remember seeing his soft smile as he fanned out the bright gold tickets, inwardly laughing at you for not understanding the contrast between your world and his as he commented,

“These blokes aren’t really keen on ballets, Duck.”

He’d always called you by that stupid nickname. Well, the longer version had been his favorite as a teenage boy: the Ugly Duckling. But, it was fine. You’d called him Vile instead of Kyle most of his life, so you felt like it was an even score.

“It’s important to me,” you’d insisted.

“I know,” he nodded, conceding, “I’ll try.”

So, as the lights were warming up and you were applying your third layer of powder, praying for a smooth night, your heart stretched itself out, begging not to be broken, the whining strings of the cellos and violins in the pit below your feet made the sounds that your heartstrings were feeling — too quiet, too off-key.

“Hey, babe,” one of your fellow dancers hissed at you from behind the backstage door, “Why didn’t you tell us you had a hot brother with a bunch of hot friends?”

“What?” You asked, confused, shaken out of your mental focus.

Then, over her shoulder, you saw Kyle’s face. He beamed at you, giving you a little wave. You leapt up from the floor where you were stretching, not yet in full costume, wrapping yourself in a warm wool sweater, rushing to greet him.

“You came!” You smiled up at him, wrapping him in a big hug. He hugged you back, full of his immense strength. You stood back to get a better look at him. He was all dressed up, and you couldn’t believe it. Someone behind him cleared their throat, getting your attention.

“Oh, right. Duck, these are my mates,” he pointed them out one by one, “Johnny MacTavish, John Price, and Simon Riley.”

When he pointed to the last one, you felt your breath catch in your throat. It felt as if he was the one who caught it. He was a tower of a man, and his broad, muscular shoulders dwarfed his big friends, making the dancers who were rushing by him back and forth to the stage seem so small. Unlike the other two, his face didn’t light up in a warm smile. His bright eyes simply took you in, drinking you like a long draught, swallowing every piece of you. He studied your makeup, your neck and your shoulders, all the way down your legs, scanning you like he would be given an exam.

“Nice to meet you. Thank you so much for coming, seriously. I’ve been trying to get Kyle to show up for months.”

The stocky man with the beard smiled back at you warmly,

“We love a good ballet, don’t we, lads?”

You didn’t miss the way his elbow jutted out to stab Simon in the ribs, prompting him to speak.

When he did, his voice was quiet, and although he had a thick Manc accent, his tone was controlled, measured, even,

“Aye. Big fans.”

“Oh, well,” you couldn’t stop staring at Simon, so you pinned your eyes to the floor instead, “I hope you enjoy it.”

“Drinks after, yeah?” Kyle said, rubbing your arm supportively.

You nodded, watching them head back to the main auditorium.

A few friends, dancers and stagehands alike, rushed up to you as they left, gushing about how attractive they all were.

“Who was that bloody blond giant? Dressed in all black. He was lookin’ at you like he was hungry.”

“I want the Scot with the mohawk. I’m not takin’ no for an answer, girlie. Oh, my God. Did you see his kilt?”

“Your brother is so damn fit! What the fuck, babes?”

“I liked the scruffy one the best. Bet that beard feels good between —”

“Okay! It’s almost showtime. Let’s circle up,” you escaped from the prop room, scurrying back onto the main stage, trying to get your head back in the game.

You went through your warmups with your dancers, and you let your costumers fit you into your opening dress. You needed to think about your work, but you couldn’t get Simon’s sharp gaze out of your mind. He did, in fact, look hungry, and the way his eyes raked over you made you feel every bit like a hot meal.

As the music began, your mind went blank, blissfully quiet and clear. Your muscle memory took over, and you powered through the motions, enjoying the feeling of your blood rushing through your veins. You trusted yourself to get you through the first act, hitting all of your marks and expecting nothing less than perfection.

It wasn’t until you put on the black mask for Odile’s dance with the prince that you began to lose your concentration. There was a wildness that took over you when you played the black swan, a ferocity that your studio director gushed about to the press and to anyone else who cared to listen.

“She’s like an animal! It’s to die for. You must come and see her on stage. It will change this ballet forever!”

You weren’t sure you appreciated being referred to as an animal, but you had to admit that there was something beastial about your transformation. The mask made you feel like you were a new person. It gave you the ability to become someone else, something else. You were sexual and aggressive, dominant and fearsome. It was just what Odile needed, and you delivered.

Except, when you put the mask on tonight, you caught a glimpse of him from backstage. He was sitting in the box that you had bought for your brother, and one of the spotlights’ films had lit his cheek. It was a soft light, but it was enough. As you took your first steps on stage, you couldn’t help but look up towards him, and the flash of hunger in his eyes was still there. So, you decided to give him your animalistic side.

You’d never danced the way you danced that night. The crowd was roaring, and your costar whispered to you,

“Go off, queen. What’s gotten into you?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered back, lying through your teeth.

By the time you left the stage, daring to look back over your shoulder, Simon hadn’t taken his eyes off of you for one moment, and his nostrils flared, breathing deeply, trying to calm himself from your display.

Before you knew it, the curtains closed, and you were bowing, dodging thrown roses and teddy bears, elegantly taking your leave. Your body was dripping sweat, and you rushed over to your bag, scarfing down some power gels and cracking open a nutrition bar, hurrying to bring your body back to normal after its ordeal. You’d be expected to pose for some VIP photos in just a few minutes, so you touched up your makeup, but there was only so much you could do.

“My star!” Your director burst through the back door, “Beautiful! You were incredible tonight. Bring your masks. I have some people who want to meet you.”

You nodded, scooping up your masks and giving your bag to one of the other dancers to take back to the barre room.

You schmoozed for a bit, but something itched at the back of your mind. You felt like you were being watched. Then, just while you were taking a photo with someone’s eager six-year-old, you spotted him. Simon stood behind Kyle, staring at you without shame while the other men laughed and joked with a gaggle of dancers. They had swarmed them, fluttering about, insisting to be invited for drinks, and Kyle was eating it up. You didn’t care, though. There was only one thing you wanted — aside from a hot bath and your comfy bed — and that was to enjoy those things with Simon Riley, if he agreed.

“Excuse me, Madame Savoie. I’m exhausted, and my brother is in town. May I take my leave for the night?”

“Of course!” Your director beamed at you, “After that performance, you can take whatever you want.”

She laughed. Her rich friends laughed. You didn’t, but you managed a smile.

You made your way through the crowd over to Kyle and broke the news,

“Kyle, I’m not going to make it to the pub. I’m beat. I think I’ll just walk home.”

“You can’t walk home by yourself, Duckie. You live in bloody Soho.”

“I’ll be alright. I’ll just —”

“I’ll take her,” that Manc accent oozed its way through the din, and almost everyone turned to look at Simon as he offered his services.

Kyle made a face at you, his arms wrapped around two dancers, one on each side, and he shrugged,

“Alright, Duck. Tomorrow for breakfast, though. No excuses.”

You watched as your brother untangled his right arm from one of your swans, and stuck out his hand for Simon to shake. You saw Simon pause, making clear eye contact with your brother, and extending his wide, pale hand.

You weren’t exactly sure what weird sort of ritual you were witnessing, but it seemed like the two men had an entire conversation in just that short span. Then, Simon’s attention was turned fully back to you.

“C’mon, then. I just need to get my bag.”

He didn’t say anything, but he did hold the door for you, and his huge stature did help part the crowd like some sort of biblical sea, making sure you had easy access to the exits.

The barre room was a bright, white open space, and the wooden floors popped and creaked as you walked across them.

Your impromptu bodyguard followed close behind, but he paused near the door when he was presented with the huge room.

“I’d hate to meet that ballerina,” he chuckled.

You turned around, confused by his comment,

“Which one?”

“The one who hit her head on the ceiling to make them build it this bloody high.”

You looked up to where he was pointing, laughing at his odd joke,

“It’s for the piano,” you explained.

“That’s even scarier,” he grimaced, staring up at the high ceiling as if pianos would start falling from it.

You laughed harder, then, imagining a flying baby grand.

“No! No,” you caught your breath, “The sound. It helps us hear the music.”

“Ahh,” he nodded knowingly, conceding to you, “I see. That makes me feel safer.”

You knelt down and started to pack your back, changing your shoes and slipping out of your outer costume, laying the pieces out like you had been trained to do.

“So, which one do you like better?”

“Hm?” You looked up at him, and he bent his knees to squat down in front of you, plucking your white swan mask out of your bag and touching the fine silk bow with his thumb.

“Which swan?” He asked, his eyes staring at you carefully. You got the sense that your answer really mattered to him.

“Well,” you said carefully, “Every girl wants to be Odette. She’s the star. It’s her story. And she gets to fall in love with a prince. But… once you play Odile, I think you realize that there’s… well, there’s something to be said for falling in love with yourself, too.”

You smiled, grabbing your black mask by the nose and holding it up to your eyes, glaring at him to make your point.

“Same person on the inside, though,” he commented, looking down at the white mask in his hand.

You stood up, and you grabbed his hand to help him up,

“C’mere. I’ll show you.”

“You’re not going to find a tutu that fits me, love.”

“No tutus for you, I promise. Just… stand here. Like that. Put your hand out like this. Good.”

Once he was in position, you grabbed the white mask from him and tied it around your face, willing your sore body back into position.

“This is Odette,” you said, making your hands and feet flutter to life. You spun into his hand, letting him feel the weightlessness of your body as you moved against him, the soft silken rustle of your leotard against his huge, callused hand. Eventually, you came to rest facing away from him, your thigh brushing his hip in a long, extended arabesque. His hand never moved from your waist, and you leaned into it, letting him balance you, his palm warm against your belly through the thin fabric.

“And this…” you replaced the white mask with the black one, changing yourself for him, metamorphosing right before his eyes, “...is Odile.”

This time, you challenged him, making him feel your muscles and bones with each spin, pushing against him like a threat. You could feel his uncertainty, but he naturally steeled himself, grabbing you with more power, trying to harness your energy. But, you knew he couldn’t. He didn’t know what do to. All he could do was stand there and feel you as you moved against him, aggressive and virulent.

As Odile, your final arabesque pressed into him lustfully, translating that fiery rage, your thigh slammed flush with his body, your hips forcing his hand to grip you to keep you from pushing him backwards.

Then, you stepped away, removing the mask and doing a little bow for effect.

“I see,” he murmured, seemingly unphased. But, even though he tried to hide it, his slight adjustment in his black dress pants did not slip by you. He stalked closer to you, closing the space that you had opened. His thumb came up to rub your cheek, right at the edge of the black mask, “Does the mask help?”

You dropped your volume to match his, still catching your breath a bit from the turns,

“Yeah, it reminds me that I can be someone I’m not.”

“Or maybe you can finally be someone you are,” his thumb traced your smooth skin down to your mouth where your lipstick stains and cracked powder were surely a right mess. But, he didn’t care. He pressed the pad of his finger to your bottom lip anyway, moving so carefully and deliberately you felt like you were under his spell.

“Maybe.”

“Hm,” he said noncommittally, backing away from you, releasing you from his invisible hold.

You finished packing, and you made your way into the dark night with him, walking quickly to get out of the spitting rain. He kept his arm around you, wrapping you in his warmth, shielding you from passersby.

Your mind was racing. You had taken this stranger home with you, no questions asked. It was a risk that you just didn’t take. When was the last time you even had a bloke in your flat, much less one that you desperately wanted to snog? At least you had cleaned yesterday. It was too small of a place not to pick up at least a little bit each day. There was no room for you to be messy.

“This is me,” you jingled your keys and pointed up to the tall, modern apartment building, gleaming in glass and steel amidst the historical Soho houses and businesses.

Every floor was the same. It was all modern and white, almost sterile. You felt like you lived in a museum.

“Mm, posh,” he commented, a little disgruntled.

“Free,” you rolled your eyes, “The ballet company houses all of us here.”

“Why can’t my free accommodations ever look this good?”

You cracked open the door to your flat and let him inside. Your cat, Mustard, immediately began her figure-eight dance between his legs, her favorite hello to every person who dared enter her domain.

“What do your accommodations usually look like, then?” You asked, pouring out some kibble for the cat and hanging your bag on its hook.

“Usually a tent, sometimes a cave. They even gave us a house once, no windows in it, but hey. You win some, you lose some.”

“I worry about Kyle, you know. You lads don’t have an easy job.”

“He’ll be alright. He’s a good one.”

“I know,” you smiled softly, staring up into Simon’s eyes, then you remembered your manners, “Can I get you a drink?”

“No, I’m alright,” he smiled back, turning his head to look around your flat.

You gave him the short tour,

“Bathroom’s in there, and here’s my bedroom slash office slash den… Only enough room for the bed, really. I’m not here very much.”

“And…” He spoke slowly, carefully, no joviality in his tone this time, “Is it alright that I’m here, love?”

He eyed you cautiously, moving toward you, towering over your small frame, his hulking shoulders curling in on you, casting dark shadows across your vision, keeping you from the light.

You peered up at him, ignoring his question,

“Do you want to shower with me? I’d fucking murder someone for a hot shower.”

“Yeah,” he said softly, bending forward so that he could press his soft lips to your mouth, kissing you as gently as you’d ever been kissed. But, you could tell, just by the way he moved his jaw, letting his tongue lazily trace your bottom lip, there was so much more fervor under his skin, waiting to be unleashed. Right now, he was Odette, on his best behavior.

But, you wanted to see his Black Swan. Where was the beast that you knew must lurk within?

He pulled away from you, smiling a bit, and you giggled softly, dragging him along by his wrist, ducking into your spacious bathroom. It was the one thing you loved about this place. There was no living room to speak of, but damn if the bathroom wasn’t perfect. The huge glass shower was enough for a party of four, and the dual shower heads made you feel like some sort of royalty. You couldn’t wait to let your muscles soak under the cascade. Maybe tall, blond and handsome could put those strong hands of his to work and rub you down.

You stood in the mirror together, looking at each other, and you started to undress. He twisted a finger under the collar of your sweater until he could feel your skin. Then, he slipped it off of your shoulder. You dropped your arm, letting it slide to the floor. Then, as slowly as he could, you watched as he writhed his finger under your leotard’s strap, pulling it down your arm. When it got to be too taut, you helped him, removing your arms and rolling the soft nylon down your aching body.

Your wig was still on, but you weren’t about to wear it to bed, so you took it off in front of him, running your fingers through your short curls, letting your close-cut fingernails scratch your scalp.

Now, as you stood in the low light of your bathroom mirror, you were naked in front of him, standing with your back to him, covering your breasts in the mirror. Simon bent his head down so he could kiss your neck, and you felt him wrap a big hand around the nape of your neck, holding you in place. His kisses felt hot, and they were deeper than before, more hungry, pressing into you with more power.

You sighed, enjoying his mouth as it worked on you, but well-aware of just how caked on the sweat and the makeup were after a show, making excuses for yourself,

“I’m sweaty,” you whispered.

“I know,” he smiled, sticking out his fat, pink tongue and licking his way up to your ear, just to make his point.

He wrapped his arms around you, retreating for a moment, looking at you in the mirror. Then, when he saw you covering yourself, he gently pushed your arms away, making you reveal your bare breasts to him.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he praised you, kissing your scalp chastely.

You turned your back to the looking glass to face him, and you tangled your fingers between the buttons of his dress shirt. You weren’t in any hurry to peel him apart, but as you did, you saw more and more evidence of his hard life. His enormous muscles were inked with old tattoos, war scenes etched into his creamy flesh in black and gray. But, carved across his skin were tens of deep, jagged scars, standing as proof of the cruelty he’d endured.

You let your mouth fall to his chest, kissing him indiscriminately, licking when you wanted to, nibbling when you wanted to, giving in to your hedonism fully.

He untucked his shirt for you, peeling it off of his shoulders, and you watched as his muscles rippled and bent around his bones, stretching under his will. You worked on his belt, and he watched you take him apart, both of your heads craned down, staring at your hands as you freed him from his trousers. The zipper fell smoothly, and all that was left were his boxer briefs, underneath which hung a very girthy cock.

You touched him through the fabric, and he let out a shuddering sigh of relief.

“You’re a big man, Mr. Riley,” you teased, playing with his head through the thin fabric, meeting his gaze and finding him fully unraveled. His eyes were hooded and lustful, and it made you wonder how he liked to be touched so you could keep him like this, under your spell.

He tucked his thumbs in his pants and pulled them down, bare with you, and he held your body flush to his in a warm hug. You could feel his cock trapped between you, wet and warm on your belly, and his big hands came down to grab two handfuls of your ass, prying you apart so that the cold air of the room would hit your pussy and tell you how wet you were, enjoying the feel of your meat between his fingers.

“Good thing you’ve got a bloody big shower, love. Might actually be able to stand under the tap, me. Can’t believe it.”

You watched him step into the large glass box and turn on the stream, the heat making him sigh. You joined him, jealous of the feeling, and let your own shower head beat your muscles into submission.

You hissed in pain and he heard it, snapping his attention to you like a dog with a bone.

“What is it?”

“Sore. End of the week is hard.”

He poured some of your soap into his hand, way too much, but you didn’t correct him, and he commented as he bathed you,

“I read about it before we came, you know. Read about the story. About what you have to do to be the star. Hard work, that.”

“There are harder things,” You said in a low voice, tracing a particularly suspicious-looking wound in the shape of a bullet on his right hip.

“Not many. Turn around,” he commanded. You were pleasantly surprised how much you liked it when he took control.

Here, in the warm nest of the shower, you gave him your weakness and let him take care of you. He massaged your shoulders and your back unprompted, rubbing slick suds all over your skin, and he washed your hair. You moisturized on your own, letting him smell all of your tonics and potions, washing your face as he fondled your ass again, enjoying you fully.

You felt like time had stopped.

You washed him, letting your hands roam, caring for him as he had cared for you, and when you were both clean, you couldn’t help but linger on each other a bit. He reached between your legs and explored you for a moment, swiping his huge finger through your curls. When he found your warmth, so different from the steam of the shower, and a different wetness, too, he sighed.

“Is it alright if I stay the night?” He asked.

It surprised you. You assumed that getting naked and showering in front of a man who would be immediately boxed up and shipped back to Khandor on the next flight out would have stayed without asking. He would have assumed that his presence was his invitation.

You nodded,

“Please stay, Simon.”

He touched your breast, plucking at your nipple softly, seeming like he was uncertain despite your answer. You pried,

“Are you worried about Kyle? Did he say something —”

“No,” Simon smiled, “He knows you’re a big girl. It’s just been awhile… for me.”

“If you want to go…” You let your hands spread wide across his chest, purposely avoiding his cock, not wanting to sway him in a covinous way.

He shook his head,

“No. I just want you to be sure. I can’t… We leave again, and I can’t make promises.”

“No promises. I know what you do. I know who you are because I know who Kyle is. You aren’t misleading me here, Simon. But, if you don’t take me to bed, I might lose my bloody mind.”

The smile that spread across his face then was a true one. It couldn’t hide. It squeezed his cheeks up into his eyes and wrinkled their edges like a paper fan. His full lips pulled tight across those white teeth, his incisors long like fangs and just as sharp. And he blushed, that pale skin giving away his feelings to you.

He kissed your forehead and turned off the taps, retrieving two towels and bundling you in one, on your way back to bed, you snatched your lotion and started to put it on in a half-assed way, hurrying for his benefit.

“Hey, stealin’ my duties?”

Simon plucked the lotion out of your head and nodded to the bed. You lay down for him, waiting for what he had in store. He pumped the lotion into his hand, less this time, you noticed, and began at your thighs. His wide palms rubbed and massaged you until he had covered you, paying attention to your hands and feet, before commanding you again:

“Flip over, love.”

You gladly did, sighing and moaning shamelessly as he rubbed lotion all over your back and legs. When he got to your round, plump ass, he took more of his time.

“Watchin’ you move up there on that stage, tryin’ to seduce the bloody prince, fuck… it made me feel like you were dancing for me. The way you move… your body… I’ve never seen anythin’ like it.”

“I was,” you confessed.

“What?” He stopped massaging you, putting the lotion on your table and crawling into the bed with you.

You waited until you were under the covers with your head firmly planted on his chest before admitting it to him,

“I was dancing for you tonight. When I saw you with my brother… you were all I could think about. I could see you in the box, when I was Odile, and I wanted you to look at me.”

“I couldn’t stop looking at you.”

You weren’t sure who kissed who, but you were now trapped within each other, sucking at each others’ mouths, moaning and writhing in each others’ arms. Snogging like you were dying.

His cock was already hard, but you felt its smooth, silky body pressing and throbbing against your belly as he held you close, hungry for your wet hole, eager to be the one to fill it.

You let your hand fall between you, jerking him off, rubbing slick circles around his head until he had to break your kiss to cry out for you. You raised your leg over his hip and moved to put him inside you, but he shook his head and started chanting in short, breathless whispers,

“Wait, wait, wait…”

Then, he disappeared, leaving you at the top of the duvet alone, licking and sucking his way down your body until he reached your pussy. As he began to eat you, he also spread you apart. You’d never felt so exposed before, but he wanted to lick your petals, slurping them into his mouth like the lobes of a sweet orange, one by one devouring you in your sensitive state.

Your hands scratched at his scalp, which he seemed to enjoy. You watched his eyes flutter with pleasure after a particularly vigorous passthrough.

“Taste so fuckin’ good. Gimme that come, baby,” he growled, gently circling your entrance with two thick fingers before fitting them into you with a wet, slick sound.

“Oh!” You called out, staring down at him as he planted his mouth over your clit, suckling at its swollen body, razing your nerves to ashes.

It didn’t take long before he had you coming for him, and when he felt you tense up beneath his hands, that true smile was back. He sat up on his knees and helped you come back down, slowing his movements just enough to calm your breathing, but keeping you precariously balanced on the edge where he wanted you.

“Turn over on your belly, love.”

For some reason, it made you feel incredibly vulnerable to have him behind you, and your body shivered from the tension. He noticed, and he lay himself over you, soothing you, whispering right into your ear,

“I’ve got you, love. You wanna stop, we’ll stop. No problem. That clear?”

You nodded your head, and he met your eyes, making damn sure. Then, satisfied, you heard him digging around in his discarded dress pants, the crinkle of the foil condom, and then the slick roll of the barrier slipping over his head.

“Thank fuck for condoms,” he laughed, “Might give me a chance to last more than a few minutes in this pretty fuckin’ cunt.”

You laughed with him, shrugging,

“You come, we try again. I’m not bothered.”

“Mm,” he nuzzled your ear, laying his body over yours and letting you feel his weight. His cockhead was tickling your entrance, but he didn’t go any further, saying, “This must be my white swan I have beneath me. Sweet on me, huh?”

“Mmhm,” you nodded, reeling from the sensation of his tip rolling around your hole’s entrance, desperately grinding for more.

“What would the black swan say to me, huh?”

You looked over your shoulder at him, meeting his eyes, and just like you had in the barre room, you showed him your other side. When he saw the flash in your eyes of your wildness, he knew he’d gotten his wish. You shoved your hips down, spearing yourself onto him before he was ready for you, making him gasp as your pussy slaked over the first few inches of his cock.

“Give me your cock, Simon.”

He recovered, biting his lip and thrusting into you, stuffing himself inside of you deeper and deeper,

“There she is. My girl…”

The power that he used to fuck you was beyond anything that any other man had dared give you. You didn’t know this was a possibility. Your whole body was trapped beneath him, being kissed and crushed and fucked into a wet, submissive mess. His arms were planted beside you, pinning you in, and honestly, you had never felt so safe.

You could smell your coconut body wash on him, mixing with whatever it was that made him a man, musky and dark, a hint of his Camel Blues. You wanted to bathe in him, just as he had washed you with his hands. Instead of soap, you wanted it to be him, smearing himself all over you, caking you in his essence.

“Fuck, you are so tight. Squeezin’ me. Fuck…”

He was off of you in a flash, and before you knew it, he’d flipped you over. He spread open your legs and played with you for a moment, trying to stop himself from coming. His cock was in his other hand like a vice, and you watched him struggle with no small sense of pride.

You decided it was your turn to lead this dance, and you sat up, kissing him full on the mouth, letting your tongue loll against his, sensuous and warm. Then, you wrapped your knees around him and shoved him back toward the foot of the bed, riding him down. When you caught your balance, you reached behind you to feed him into your pussy again, pressing into him with your weight.

“Wait! Oh, fuckin’ hell.”

Simon’s hands went to your hips and then immediately to cover his mouth, stopping himself from gasping from the sensation. You ignored him, bucking against his huge cock, discovering you could take him even deeper. As you began to grind against him, you let your hands play in your folds, vibrating your clit and driving yourself wild. Your other hand went to his balls, rolling them gently in your hands behind your back.

“Ungh… You are gonna make me come, love.”

As soon as you heard his confession, you released him from your hand and paused at the top of your thrust, hovering on his tip in midair, teasing him ruthlessly.

“Oh… you —” Simon never finished his sentence because he grabbed you around your hips and dropped you back to the bed, prowling over you and huffing like a stuck bull. You were laughing in gasping breaths from the shock of his strength, and you almost missed the moment when he began to press his swollen rod back inside of you, spearing you mercilessly.

You whimpered, wrapping your hands around his neck like a lifeline.

“Mmm,” he purred proudly, “She needs me, now. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, letting him kiss you languidly with soft, pliant lips.

“Needs me like this, huh? Tell me.”

“I need you, Si—”

“Tell. Me.”

“I need you so bad! Please, please… fuck me like this. Fuck —”

He covered your mouth with his own and chased down your orgasm like a thief, watching as your eyes got wide, pulling away so he could hear you keen.

“Yes, yes, yes…” He chanted in your face, not moving away for a second, unwilling to miss even one moment of it.

“Simon…” You whined, feeling the shock of your release and the afterburn of your pleasure as it flooded through your core, messy and salacious.

“Feel so good, baby,” he was barely speaking above a whisper, sounding like he was drunk, struggling to keep his rhythm.

“You gonna come in me?”

Hope and bliss flashed across his face, and he kissed you again, pressing his nose right beside your nose and muttering into your mouth,

“Fuck yes, fuck, fuck, fuck…”

As he came, he held his breath, locked, frozen in time, his eyes wrenched shut and his mouth wide open in a silent scream. You held his head in your arms, keeping him close to you, keeping him safe like he had kept you.

When he finally took a breath, it was ragged and gravelly. He panted like a tired hound, sucking in air and leaning against you to recover. For a while, you just lay together, his big body draped over yours, healing in you, using your wet come as a salve.

Then, he slipped away, leaving you bereft at the loss.

He pulled you into his arms, making sure you were covered and warm in your bed, finding your eyes and kissing your cheek, wordlessly thanking you for what he had done to you.

“Do you want me to go?” He whispered, his eyes closed as if he couldn’t face the answer.

“Please, stay. Don’t leave me, Simon. Not yet.”

“C’mere,” he sighed, curling his body around yours, securing you in his arms, breathing with you until you both tumbled into a deep, dark sleep.

AO3 Link

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod #call of duty #gpdrecs #gpd #gpdrecs writing challenge #simon “ghost” riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghostchallenge

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tofixtheshadows · 2 days

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Hot take: Laios wouldn't actually mind an arranged marriage. Obviously "reluctant royal being pressured into marriage" is very fun for shipping purposes. But I have harlequin blood, so bear with me. Join me on this journey of character theorizing/shipping nonsense that makes it abundantly clear I have a Scrivener document I'm neglecting.

Laios was promised to someone from a young age. He and Falin both were; it's probably how their parents ended up together. They both broke it off by leaving their village, but it didn't seem to be a factor in Laios's own decision. And when Marcille, presumably, asks about his hypothetical love life (bicorn chapter), he not only brings it up readily, but actually seems kind of flattered? lmao

I love when smug Laios comes out. Underrated factor of Laios's personality for me is how much he enjoys being seen as cool. I think you'd expect Laios to be embarrassed or uneasy over this line of questioning, and the fact that he isn't is fun to me.

So when Yaad and his other old advisors bring up his need for a wife, Laios is ready to go along with it. Not necessarily thrilled by the prospect, but he was raised to think of marriage as a business arrangement you do because it's beneficial for your household/bloodline (as was often the case historically). He's already made the big step to claim a throne, and the idea of becoming village chief after his father seemed to have been vaguely in the back of his head all his life. Besides, if he has to do it anyway, I think he'd take comfort that there was a formalized process for an otherwise socially messy undertaking.

This dovetails neatly with my personal headcanon that Laios is gay but unaware of it. He comes from kind of a repressed culture- or at least I can imagine he does based on context clues- and has spent most of his life being ostracized in one way or another, feeling like he's on the outside of humanity. So he doesn't realize that his lack of attraction to women is unusual- he assumes that nobody really enjoys romance that much. It's not like his own parents married for love. It's just something people play up for stories, right?

It's all tangled up with his fraught desire for human connection and platonic companionship anyway. Meanwhile he's blithely unaware that the things he says about Toshiro are not normal bro things. Oh you'd totally marry Toshiro, Laios? Tell me more.

I see this in Marcille too. Firstly due to her unstable development, which has only recently allowed her to reach maturity (I headcanon her as somewhere between 20-22) and secondly due to her being a half-elf (infertile+a too-long lifespan), I think she has the expectation that she's simply not destined for love. The half-elf character she relates to in her favorite books says as much. So she, too, confuses a genuine lack of heterosexual attraction with the belief that this is just because of her half-elf status distancing her from it. Plus, she spent over a decade as a student/researcher in a nice little sheltered academic bubble, at an all-girls academy populated by adolescents. She's the most sheltered of all the characters: she's only spent the past year in the "real world", and she still focuses all her romantic attention on living vicariously through her favorite characters or her friends (except for Falin, conveniently!).

And Marcille would absolutely want to live vicariously through Laios and his future wife. She would not want him to go through a dispassionate formalized process: she wants her bestie to have a fairytale romance! What is the point of being a heroic king in a mythic castle if you can't even get a love story for the ages out of it?

This would result in a lot of Laios meeting with eligible bachelorettes at Marcille's urging, looking to Kabru for help the entire time and being grilled by Marcille afterwards about what he liked best about each girl. "She had nice, um, teeth?" They're both so close to getting it.

Kabru, meanwhile, is agitating for Yaad and the other advisors not lock the country into a hereditary monarchy, they have the chance to do something radical here, to break away from the systems that the elves and dwarves uphold. At the very least, let Laios marry for love, or formally adopt an heir and name them his successor if he wants, he's already sacrificed enough for the sake of Melini. Don't make him jump through these circus hoops for the chance of some trade agreements, we can get those without a royal marriage. And even if Laios was willing to go along with it, he does look at Kabru like he's his hero for sticking up for him.

The vague unhappiness Kabru feels at the idea of Laios being married off is easy for him to ignore. Kabru didn't actually get better at honoring or even recognizing his own wants just because he's moved past the dungeon. And Laios hasn't gotten the hint about his crush on Toshiro and is still 50/50 on saying casually shocking things, so when he remarks that he doesn't need a wife anyway when he has Kabru, he has no idea why that gets him the looks it does. After all, where he's from, men marry women to run their households, but Laios has castle staff for that, and Kabru is handling the rest?

That comment alone ticks one month off their collective gay awakening countdown.

Anyway. How many repressed gays in their twenties does it take to run a country?

Answer: Yaad can tell you.

#dungeonposting #DUNGEON MESHI SPOILERS #I always have to use that tag for the dumbest reasons. because of my harlequin blood.#Labru #you get that tag because that was the point of my post it just took awhile to get there #also pretend I made some kind of joke with a pun about screwing at the end. believe in me.#Golden Country trio #^tag for ME. rotating scenarios with them in my head is a personal treat.#I haven't figured out where Kabru falls yet #he's very bad at introspection and very good at denying himself #but god knows what a guy like Kabru who moves through society the way he does experiences #several possibilities present themselves and I haven't yet decided which one is most plausible. or funniest.#pairing: to be human

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oddinary4bts · 1 day

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Chasing Cars | ch 3.5 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters contain mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: mention of jungkook sleeping around, curse words? but that's pretty much it

☆word count: 1.1k

☆a/n: wrote this in like twenty minutes after being unable to write for a few weeks, let's go :))))) hope you guys enjoy <3

☆series masterpost

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

The second Jungkook saw you crying at the door of your apartment, he knew he had to do something. It didn’t matter that he was supposed to meet with Shelly, didn’t matter that you are Taehyung’s little sister. The sight of tears on your cheeks nearly undid him, his heart clenching so hard in his chest he somehow thought it was going to burst.

Maybe that’s why he decided to cook for you. To offer you this fake Valentine’s Day date, but the more he’s been talking to you, the more the word fake has been losing its meaning, replaced by a yearning for you he’s been trying to forget since the day he met you.

It’s been resurfacing lately, and no matter the amount of reminding himself that your brother is Taehyung, the yearning has yet to go back into the deep slumber it had been in since early September. The fact that you got jealous about Shelly contributes to it all, rendering him practically speechless as he sits next to you.

Mindlessly, he sings along to the song - I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys - eyes lost in the flame atop the candle you’ve lit earlier. He feels your gaze on him the second you turn your head towards him, and his heart skips a beat in his chest.

He meets your gaze, letting out a small laugh. “Why are you looking at me like this?”

He meant for it to be teasing, but he rather sounds slightly breathless, and he can only hope you haven’t noticed.

“You have a beautiful voice.”

The compliment hits deep, right in his beating organ. Stabs it until all there is is you sitting next to him, and the room fades out of focus.

“Nah,” he lets out.

“No, I’m serious,” you insist, nodding your head. “I often hear you hum and… you sing really well.”

He thinks he’s blushing. He knows he is - how can you make him such a mess?

He scrunches up his nose. “Stop it.”

You roll your eyes. “Just take the compliment,” you say, and you laugh as he pulls on his piercings.

His heart is beating loud, so loud he doesn’t think he hears the music anymore. There really is just you, like you’re the centerpiece to his universe, and he thinks he’s dumb. Dumb and stupid and all kinds of foolish, yet all he manages to do is whisper, “We should have hung out like this before.”

It’s like the world is holding its breath. Or maybe it’s him, his lungs filling with apprehension at the words he’s uttered aloud even though he shouldn’t have.

“Yeah?” you breathily reply.

Jungkook can’t breathe. Not when he feels you leaning in, and like a meteor, he can’t resist your gravity. Can’t resist leaning in too, meeting you halfway there. When your lips touch, he thinks, will he be the meteor, dust burned in your atmosphere, or will he crash down to you like a meteorite would?

The answer comes when you hesitantly pull away, eyes wide. He doesn’t move, can’t move, and then he’s pulling on your arm, because of course he's the meteorite. His eyes flutter shut the second your feather-soft lips touch his again, and you sigh like you’ve been waiting for this all night.

Much like he has, if he’s honest. But he’s been waiting for much longer, even if he pretended he wasn’t.

Even if he fucked around like he did before, trying not to think about you. Though he pushes that thought away the second that it’s formed in his mind - he doesn’t want to think about anything else when he’s kissing you.

He wants it to be just you, and it's as easy as breathing as he tilts his head to the side so that he can deepen the kiss. His hand trails up your arm, stopping on your shoulder for half a heartbeat before he moves it to the side of your neck, his thumb swiping at your jaw gently.

He sighs, the weight of the yearning finally lifting from his shoulders, and he can’t help but tease your bottom lip with his tongue. You’re quick to reciprocate, and your tongues meet in a languid dance that makes his mind spin, though he keeps the kiss slow, passionate.

He wants to enjoy every single second of this before time is up. He pulls you closer, hand finding the nape of your neck, his heart racing in his chest as you put your hand right above the beating organ. He reckons you notice, because your fist closes on a handful of his shirt, and you pull him closer too. Jungkook immediately reacts by shifting in his chair to allow you space so that you can straddle him.

The weight of you in his lap causes a physical response in him that he’s afraid you might notice, yet you don’t move, don’t say anything. Just keep on kissing him like time is stretching in an eternity for you and him, and he thinks it is.

He thinks the world might have truly stopped outside, and he’s not going to complain about it. No, instead he holds your waist as you wrap your arms around his neck. He keeps on kissing you, getting drunk to the taste of you, and when your hands move up to tug at his hair, arousal erupts in him so loud his tongue grows more insistent, startling you.

Startling him, too.

You pull away, though you remain close enough for him to imagine that this is real, to imagine that he can kiss you again. But then Taehyung invades his thoughts, and anxiety pumps in his blood until he finds himself regretting it. But he doesn’t say it yet though, needing this moment to stretch for a little longer still.

He wraps his arms around your waist in a tentative embrace, and you rest your head on his shoulder. Your warm breath tickles his neck, yet he remains immobile, appreciating your proximity. His grip on you loosens as he realizes a new song has started playing while you kissed, and he stiffens slightly when you peck his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

He’s dead. Jungkook is a dead man, and he pushes you away gently, until your gazes connect. Your eyes are shining, and you’re so beautiful, so angelic like this he thinks it doesn’t have to matter.

But it does. It does matter that you’re Taehyung’s sister, and though it kills him to say it, Jungkook murmurs, “Now you’ve had a fake Valentine Day kiss.”

Read chapter three here!

☆☆☆☆☆

Come scream with me please I can't he's so ashgfknglefg

#chasing cars ch 3.5 #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk #jeon jungkook #chasing cars #chasing cars series #btswritersclub

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dclovesdanny · 3 days

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Dcxdp prompt

I don’t see enough angst to do with Bruce, so here’s my idea.

The world is ending, and all of Bruce’s kids have been hurt in someway. Bruce is running out of options, so he said to call his final contingency plan into place.

He messages the family group chat, telling them that he loves them and is proud of them. Immediately they all start freaking out, and they have Barbara connect them onto a FaceTime with. They’re the only ones who can see what’s going on.

Bruce made a summoning circle. He transferred a few moments before that none of them can really describe appears in the circle. Later on, they all describe him differently. Damien calls him an older man older than Alfred while Tim insists he looks around Bruce’s age. Jason says that he looked older than Bruce, but younger than Alfred and Dick says they looked around his age.

The being looks at Bruce for a moment and ask him in a voice that sounded simply Eldritch

“I assume you wish to make a deal. You know what you must do if I agreed to do anything.’

Bruce nods and grunts.

The being smiles.

“Very well, I will deal with your problem. If you agree to the terms I set so long ago. Do you remember?’

Bruce grunts before saying

“My children are hurt. I want you to heal them too.’

The being laughs,

“why certainly, but you know, that means the deal be a little steeper.”

Bruce nods and takes the outstretched hand. A Crack rings through the air and the video shorts out, becoming only static. By the time they get to the Batcave, the danger is gone, their injuries are healed and Bruce is nowhere to be seen.

Meanwhile, Bruce met clockwork back when he was a teenager. He was a friend of Alfred, and they had a deal where Bruce would babysit clockwork kids or help him in the tower in exchange for Clockwork’s advice and help with tasks. Bruce figured out that clockwork was not human and was a very Eldritcg, but Alfred trusted him so so did Bruce. However, Bruce had been very busy since he adopted the kids and hadn’t made many deals in a while. However, this was important, so he didn’t mind babysitting for a while. there were more kids than usual, though.

#misunderstanding #dc x dp #dcxdp #dad clockwork #clockwork adopted Dani Dan and Danny #I’m also enjoying the image of teen Bruce watching a younger ghost #maybe Youngblood?#the bat kids are loosing it #protective batfamily #the Justice league doesn’t know why it stopped until Nightwing tells them #they don’t know who clockwork is #protective justice league #Half of the fic should be the JL and batkids struggling with their emotions towards Bruce #and the other half is Bruce watching over the kids #so many thoughts #not enough energy to write them #angst #chaos and angst

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starkwlkr · 2 days

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you’re so vain | jenson button

through the decades masterlist

California 1972

The day you met Jenson Button was the day you swore you would never fall in love with, but of course his charming smile had convinced you. But then came the worst part, he had become someone else. If you looked up the definition of vain in the dictionary, a picture of Jenson would be there. Ever since he became the world champion, it was all he could talk about.

“Hey, lovely, why don’t you put down the pen and paper and let’s go drive around? I know the perfect place for you and me. Remember how you used to love driving with me?” Jenson said over the phone one day.

“I would rather die than ever go on a date with you again, Jenson Button.” And you ended the call. You weren’t sure how he even got your number in the first place, but one thing was for sure, you would never go on a date with him.

After dismissing your call with Jenson, you walked back to your recording booth where your band was. You had a melody stuck in your head for the past couple of days and you desperately wanted to write down lyrics for it, but nothing came up.

“Hey, Y/n! Some Button guy keeps calling the landline, says he wants to take you out to dinner.” The drummer of your band said as he entered the room.

“For fucks sake.” You sighed. “Tell him I’m not here, that I left the country or something.”

“Okay . . . ” The drummer, Brad, said confused but went with it. He walked back to the phone.

“Button guy? What’s that about?” The guitarist, Dave, asked.

“He’s a formula one driver, but he’s so egotistical! This one time we went to a party and he walks in like he’s on a yacht! I can’t believe I even went out with him. . .” You sighed.

“Aren’t all formula one drivers a little bit egotistical? Or this Button guy worse?” Brad came back. “He asked if you were writing a song about him and I hung up. Can’t believe you dated him.”

“Don’t remind me,” you groaned. “What’s worse is that we’re supposed to perform at his boss’s birthday party this weekend. He’s definitely going to be there.”

When you were with Jenson, his boss had asked you to perform at his birthday party and you being the kind person, you said yes. Now there was no way of getting out of it.

Brad then spoke. “Well if he wants a song written about him. . . I say you write one and you perform it at the party.”

It didn’t take you long to grab your journal and pen and start writing down lyrics. You had your new song finished it about three hours and spent the rest of the afternoon coming up with a melody with the band. Soon, Jenson Button would hear his song in front of thousands of people.

—

Jenson had arrived to the party as if he owned the place. He had a pretty woman by his side and a beer in his hand. He spotted his friends and greeted them.

“This beauty right here is . . .” Jenson truly couldn’t remember the woman’s name. Sarah? Linda? “Tell them your name, love, it sounds better when you say it cause of your accent. Music to my ears!”

“Amara, nice to meet you.” The woman said with a lovely Italian accent.

“How’d you meet each other?” Jenson’s friend asked.

“Met her in Saratoga.” Jenson replied. In reality, that was all he remembered. What was he doing in Saratoga? Who knows. . .

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention.” The host of the party and Jenson’s boss announced on the microphone. He stood on the stage with a bright smile. “First off, thank you for joining me and my family this evening. We’ve had a very successful year, thanks to our world champion, Jenson Button!”

A bright light shined on Jenson, who waved to the crowd, clearly loving the attention. Soon enough, Jenson wouldn’t like it at all.

“Now, for the main event, miss y/n l/n!”

You walked to the stage with total confidence. You wore your best dress and heels, ready to sing your heart out. The crowd cheered for you and the band, all but one. Jenson.

“Isn’t that the chick you were dating?” A friend whispered to him.

“Her name is y/n.” Jenson corrected.

“Well hello! You all look very lovely tonight. We are very happy to be here and I hope we all have a great time. So our first song is a new one, but feel free to dance.” You smiled at the crowd as your band started playing.

You walked into the party like you were walking onto a yacht

Your hat strategically dipped below one eye Your scarf it was apricot

Jenson watched as you sang beautifully. He had seen you perform many times before but this one felt different. Even his date was loving the new song. Amara bopped her head as you sang.

It wasn’t until the chorus that Jenson started to realize what was going on.

“You're so vain! You probably think this song is about you!” You sang as you looked at Jenson.

Of course she would do this, thought Jenson. He looked around and saw the crowd living the song. How could they enjoy it?

“I bet you think this song is about you. Don't you, don't you?”

As you continue singing, Jenson remembered the phone call he made several days ago.

“Is she writing a song about me? Oh, poor lovesick y/n can’t get over me.”

This was his song. Fuck.

Suddenly, the confident Jenson was nowhere to be seen. You took that confidence and stomped on it with your pretty little heels. For once in his life, Jenson hated being your muse.

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #jenson button x reader #jenson button imagine #jenson button fic #jenson button #jb22

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c-nstantine · 1 day

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Strangers From the Club

Description: Jason and Roy take the reader home and sexcapades ensue

Warnings: badly written smut, cursing, p in v, male and female recieving oral, reader is black as always, also Jason and Roy are roommates

Word Count: 2.4k

Clubbing in Gotham was either the best thing in the world or the riskiest thing that a single woman could do. That's why Y/N came out with her best friend. The buddy system had never failed them before. There they sat in the corner of the dark club, sipping some watered-down and overpriced cocktail.

"I think those two guys are watching you, "Her friend noted a tall ginger with tattoos and a taller dark-haired man from across the club.

"They're not," Y/N tightened the ponytail of her box braids that were in a half-up half-down style. Y/N knew she was attractive but to attract two men who looked like they stepped right out of Gotham Times? That'd be something new.

"They are," Her friend reached over and adjusted the cleavage of Y/N's dress before smiling and being pleased with her work. The dress was already out of Y/N's comfort zone because of it being short, low cut, and sequined. However, the silver sequins only made her more desirable under the strobe lights.

"No, they're not," She wrongly assured her friend.

"They're coming this way! Have some fun tonight," Her friend slid out of the booth and disappeared into the dancefloor with a wink. Y/N swore she was gonna get her back for this.

"Hi, beautiful. I'm Roy, and this is Jason," The ginger named 'Roy' slid on one side of her while Jason slid on the other. Roy's arm was wrapped around her but his energy was so inviting that she didn't mind him touching her.

"Hi, I'm Y/N," She smiled softly at the two men, still feeling a bit unsure about what would happen next.

"See, Jason and I had a little bet going on which one of us was more your type." Roy started while looking into her eyes. His green eyes were so inviting and friendly, that she couldn't help but be trapped in his stare.

"Winner gets to try and take you home for an 'eventful' evening with your permission, of course," Jason spoke for the first time and winked at her.

"I don't think I could choose," She said looking back and forth between the two men. Roy had a certain charm to him that made him appealing but Jason had a mystery about his aura that left her wanting more. As for physical appearance, both of the men were not lacking in that department. Jason was clean-shaven with jet-black hair that was dangerously close to his eyes. He wore a jacket but she could tell his muscles were aching to be free. Roy had a bit of stubble growing in and had a mop of red hair that was cut into a mullet. Unlike Jason, Roy wore a short-sleeved shirt that didn't conceal his muscles or his tattoos.

"Oh, that's fine. We don't mind sharing, do we, Jason?" Roy's eyes never left Y/N's face.

"Not at all," Jason agreed with Roy while putting one hand on Y/N's bare thigh.

"So, sweetheart, do you wanna have some fun with us?" Roy asked her with a small smirk as if he already knew the answer. She could only nod, her throat and mouth suddenly dry.

"Use your words," Jason chided her as he turned her chin towards him.

"Yes," She said a little too excitedly.

"Good girl," Jason whispered into her ear before leading her out of the club. The three of them took a brisk walk to a car that Jason owned. He was in the driver's seat while Y/N and Roy took to the back. It was only a few more moments later before Roy placed a kiss on her shoulder, then her neck, her jaw, and her cheek before finally hitting her mouth. His tongue prodded along her lips before she opened up.

Roy wanted to take it slow so he didn't spook her but she was so damn tempting. Before he knew it, his hand was creeping up her thigh. She spread her legs slightly to give him better access. He smirked before pulling away from her mouth. He helped her slip out of her panties before tossing them up towards Jason, who was eyeing them in the rearview mirror. One of his hands was on the wheel while the other was palming the tent pitching in his pants.

Y/N was in complete bliss while Roy's fingers continued to trail up her thigh. She gasped as he pressed against her wet heat. His fingers played with the outer lips of her pussy before skillfully dodging her clit. A small whimper fell from her lips as she caught Jason's eye in the review mirror.

"What about him?" She practically panted.

"It's okay, he likes to watch," Roy reassured her before pressing another kiss to the side of her head. He pried her legs open as wide as he could in the back of Jason's car.

"This wet already? It's like you were made for us," He spoke as he slipped a finger inside of her. He was sure she was dripping onto Jason's seats at this point but he didn't care. Roy added another finger and her pussy clenched around him as he found his rhythm. It didn't help that it felt like Jason was purposely hitting every pothole in Gotham.

"How many can you take? Three? Or Four?" Roy slipped four fingers into her tight pussy, pumping them in and out while his thumb massaged her clit. He could tell she was going to fall apart any second. His fingers began to do a curling motion against her g-spot and she knew she was done for.

"I'm gonna-" She could barely get anything out before her pussy began to spasm around his fingers. This didn't stop Roy. He continued to stroke in and out of her pussy removing one finger at a time.

"That's it, baby, cum around my fingers," He whispered as Y/N's breathing slowed. She felt like she was floating on cloud nine but it was interrupted by feeling the car be put in park.

"We're here," Jason smirked as he noticed how fucked out Y/N looked and this was only the beginning.

"Jay, you wanna taste?" Roy offered his hand which was still covered in pussy juice to his best friend.

"Hot," Y/N mumbled as she watched Jason take Roy's fingers into his mouth. The three of them managed to stumble out of the car without committing any more public indecency. Well, Y/N had to hold down her dress but Roy was insistent that if her pussy was exposed, he'd immediately get on his knees and eat her out.

"Who's apartment is this?" She asked after Jason unlocked the door to the large condo. It was surprisingly well decorated but it looked like men had lived there.

"Ours," Jason said tossing his jacket over the back of the couch. Her eyes were immediately drawn to his arms. She was right his biceps were bulging. To be trapped under those, she thought to herself.

"Are the two of you dating?" She asked noticing the shared pictures of them on the walls. Some had other people in them but it was usually one of them.

"We're just roommates with the same taste in women," Roy explained before walking towards her. She walked back until she hit the counter of the kitchen. Roy smiled down on her as he lifted her so she sat on the counter.

"Oh," There was a small gap in between them before Roy kissed her again. She felt like her breath was being taken away. It wasn't long before Roy broke the kiss and disappeared down a hallway. Y/N's eyes followed him before her view was blocked by Jason.

"Hi, princess. I wanna taste you s'more. That okay?" Jason tilted her chin up so that she was looking at him.

"Mhm," Y/N couldn't formulate words at the moment, not with what was about to happen.

If Y/N were to imagine heaven, she would think that it would consist of Jason's mouth on her pussy. His hands were relaxed behind his back and only his tongue was working. She swore that if she focused enough then she could feel him spelling out something but she wasn't sure what.

If Jason were to imagine heaven, it would be Y/N's pussy. The taste of her that he had in the car wasn't enough. He needed more. He didn't care about how much of a mess her wetness was making across his chin and face. No, no, she tasted too good for that. The sloppy slurping sounds hid her moans but Jason could feel her thighs straining to stay open.

"Jason, please," She moaned as her hands tangled in his hair. She pulled him closer to her aching pussy. Her hips subtly grinding on his face as she tried to chase her high. Jason was nothing, if not a people pleaser, so he let her cum on his face before carrying her to his bedroom where Roy was waiting.

"Take your dress off, baby," Roy said as he crawled next to her on the bed. In one fell swish, the dress was off of her and she was completely naked. Feeling slightly more sober than before she reached to cover her chest but Roy stopped her. He crawled on top of her and lowered his head to take one of her peaked nipples into his mouth. Her hands flew to his hair while he was holding her waist.

"Who do you want first? Me or Roy?" Jason asked stroking her face softly. Roy's tongue flicked her nipple with a pleasing smile.

"Roy," She moaned.

"You heard the lady," Jason nodded as he removed his shirt. He took a seat in the chair across the room. When his pants and boxers lowered, his cock sprang free.

Roy quickly relieved himself of his jeans and briefs. He grabbed a condom from his back pocket and put it on his already hard dick. His dick was pale at the base but his tip was red and dripping with precum. He wasn't sure how long he'd last because he had been hard since he fingered her in the backseat of the car. He carefully rubbed his cock's head between her folds before he began to push into her.

"Fuckin' hell," He muttered as he slid into her inch by inch. He wasn't bigger than Jason but his thickness would stretch her out like never before.

"S'not gonna fit," She whined as her back arched off of the bed ever so slightly. Roy just leaned down and kissed her once more. While she was distracted, he used this opportunity to fully sink into her.

She moaned into his mouth. His strokes were a bit sloppy but he managed to hit her G-spot every time. Jason sat in the corner watching and stroking his dick. From his angle, he could see her reaction to every stroke and movement by Roy. Her moans filled the room along with the sound of slapping skin.

Roy held onto her waist tightly as he pummeled into her. Her walls gushed and squeezed around him with every movement. He knew she was close to finishing when her legs locked around his back. He threw his weight behind him and began to push down on her stomach slightly.

"C'mon and cum pretty girl," Jason spoke from the corner. His hand was pumping faster than before. His stomach felt tight but he wanted to cum with them. Roy drew more moans out from her and nearly came as soon as her pussy fluttered around him as she came. Jason moaned as he came on his stomach. He wiped the sticky fluid onto his fingers and walked over to put it in her mouth.

"You're doing so good for us," Jason said as she sucked his cum from his fingers. Roy chuckled a little as he sat near the top of the bed. Y/N was still taking deep breaths as Jason stood at the edge of the bed.

"On your stomach," Jason tapped her thigh and she did as instructed. He placed a light smack to her bottom before lifting her hips and helping her arch back just like he wanted her to.

"Open up," Y/N looked up to see Roy's cock still hard even after cumming. She began slowly by teasing the head of his dick by licking his mushroom tip. Roy's face flushed red as she took into his mouth.

"Shit," Jason grunted softly as he pushed his cock into her. Y/N gagged on Roy's dick from the pressure building at the bottom of her belly. Roy kept one hand at the top of her head, slowly guiding her up and down until she got used to his size in her mouth.

If Y/N had thought that Roy was big, then she couldn't describe the words of Jason tearing her pussy apart. Every stroke felt as if he was just shy of kissing her cervix. His girth alone made her think about how she would struggle to walk in the morning.

"Mouth feels like heaven," Roy spoke as Y/N moaned around his dick. He wasn't gonna last long nor did he care.

"You wanna swallow?" Roy lifted her mouth off of his dick so she could answer. All she could do was nod from Jason's mind-numbing backshots. Roy held her down the full length of his cock so that she could swallow his nut. The warm fluid flowed down her throat with only a little spilling out of her mouth. Jason was getting close to cumming and he pushed and drove her further into the mattress. Y/N held onto Roy's thighs for stability as Jason completely wrecked her pussy. He felt her cum around his cock and gave a few more strokes before cumming himself. He smacked her ass one more time as her body fell limp onto the bed.

"Bathtub?" Roy asked while looking at a very fucked out Y/N. The bathtub would be the place for everyone to get cleaned before turning in for the night. Maybe even squeeze in one more round if Y/N was willing.

"Bathtub." Jason agreed.

taglist: @flyestvenustrap@megamindsecretlair@blxckdesire @prettyvintageafternoon@lilbanas@certifiedloverwoman@melissa-ashe @hoyoooo

#x black!reader #black!reader #x black reader #black reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x black!reader #roy harper x reader #roy harper x black!reader #jason todd x reader x roy harper #jason todd smut #roy harper smut

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inumakis-boo · 3 days

Note

I loved your inumaki headcannons and def want more. Do you also have any of megumi by chance?

(If not that is okay. I will take inumaki crumbs)

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO ˙✧˖°📷 ⋆｡˚꩜

headcanons ⸝⸝ hey everyone! ive been on a writing streak as of recent, so i love to give more headcanons and ideas about dating megumi! ofc, this is from a fem perspective.

safe for work headcanons

+ megumi literally did not think much of you when you first met. it was only seeing how you interact with others that he started to get you more.

+ whenever he sees you typing in the group chat, he always makes sure he answers (of course, only to make sure youre heard, much to itadori and kagisakis interest)

+ probably won't call you, but texting is decently fun with him. for someone decently calm and quiet, hes curious about how you work, ect.

+ he enjoys sharing his earbuds with you, and you lend him a few songs to listen too (you seem to get his style, although he likes a much of different things, and he saves them to his playlists)

+ doesnt mind staying back to help you train or study, and honestly you two end up talking about the jujustu world and everyone in general

+ he doesn't seem like he cares about gossip, but the moment you start talking about it he is going to pay attention

+ you two always swap what you don't like on food

+ brushing his hair with your fingers will make him fall asleep.

+ you two always somehow crowd around each other when others are training or at parties or events

+ he does not suck at communicating, he just does it in his own way. maybe in notes or through text, he is very sensitive in reality

+ would absolutely ignore his friends if you two had a date or even just taking a walk. if someone has his attention, he will give all of it

+ he loves to print out the pictures he takes of you on his recyclable camera and keep them in a little drawer in his desk

+ seems to talk about you less the more you start seeing each other/not into pda whatsoever. he doesn't want other people (especially HIS people) in your business. at the most though, he will always offer acts of service in return (buying you snacks, matching bracelets or necklaces, holding your backpack.)

+ he probably isn't a huge fan of pet names, he will never get over how embarrassing they make him feel, at the very best, meg is fine (the other half is reserved for gojo.. for whatever reason.)

+ he loves to have cuddle dates- don't have time worry about going places, just his warm bed, and both of you sleeping while he holds you.

+ your laughter may be a weak spot for him, and produces a smile every single time (even infront of other people, which they always notice.)

below this, are not safe for work headcanons. // mdni.

not safe for work headcanons

~ megumi is.. a stupid guy when it comes to fucking you.

~ hates public attention? will litter your body with purple hickeys.

~ doesn't like pda? will push you against a wall in a secluded place and eat you out from the back as your forehead meets the cement wall

~ he doesn't think too much about it, unless he thinks he is hurting you, then his penis brain turns off

~ its slightly embarrassing for him at first, but he likes to fondle you as he kisses your neck from behind. when he first heard your whimpering, that embarrassment flew out the window

~ while practically growling in your ear about how pretty you are and how wet you are down there

~ long fingers are always put to good use.. always.

~ his favorite thing to do is eating you out. he loves watching you squirm and plead as he makes circles around your clit with his thumb.

~ and his favorite position is hitting it from the back while holding you, so he can whisper and pant into your ear while you take all of him, and also to hear you huff into the pillow.

~ his weakest spot is hearing you moan and whine through his hand that wraps around your mouth every time you get loud.

~ pulling on his hair makes him whine.. or makes him go harder.

~ dirty talk, once his brain shuts off

~ "fuck, i want to see you cum. youre not leaving here until i see it."

~ always does the dirty in his room, because he doesn't want to make a mess in yours- he cares about whats in his room, but not enough to avoid breaking it on accident when he fucks you against it.

~ always after is the biggest gulit-session

~ "was i too mean? did i hurt you? god why am i so stupid?" yeah stupid in love with you.

thank you for your asks and whatnot! i will definitely write more inumaki headcanons when i get the chance next!

please, send more, i absolutely love talking to yall!

bye pookies!

#jujutsu kaisen #inumaki toge #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu megumi #jjk #jujutsu itadori #jujutsu sorcerer #jjk inumaki #fushiguro megumi #jjk megumi #megumi headcanons #jujutsu kaisen megumi #i cant stop thinking about megumi and inumaki like what #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi fluff #megumi x you #megumi smau

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hqbaby · 2 days

Text

ten — jerk

mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader

⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to. when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 1.8k content. profanity, mentions of reader’s not so happy life, alcohol consumption, violent confrontation, sexual content [oral m receiving]

It’s been a while since Sukuna’s been to a party. “A while,” of course means two weeks in his world, but nonetheless it seems like it’s been ages since he’s gone to one. So when Mahito tells him that there’s a party happening near his dorm tonight, he really has no choice but to go.

As soon as he gets in his car to leave, the first thing he thinks about is you. Should he text you? Ask if you want to come? But he soon remembers that you have a test the next day and he doesn’t want you to go to class hungover.

So he tells you he’s going out tonight and wishes you luck on your test, tells you that he’s just a call away if you decide you want his company. He can’t help the smile that grows on his face when you respond within seconds.

you: thanks! have fun loser <3

He tucks his phone into his pocket and drives over to Aoi’s house.

When he steps inside, the place is packed. There’s a bunch of people dancing, a few that are already slurring from all the alcohol they’ve consumed, and more than enough girls clocking him and giving him goo-goo eyes.

“Sukuna! You’re here!” Mahito comes up to him, pats his back, and hands him a beer. “Didn’t think you’d show.”

Sukuna takes a sip of his drink and frowns. “What made you think that?”

The boy just shrugs. “I heard you’re all tied down now,” he says. “I assumed your girl wouldn’t be too happy with you coming. What with your… reputation.”

There’s a strange feeling that grows in your best friend’s stomach at the thought of you being called “his girl.” Weird, he thinks, but he brushes it off. It doesn’t mean anything.

“I’m still allowed to have fun,” he says, placing a hand on Mahito’s shoulder. “I’m gonna get a stronger drink,” he lifts his beer, “this is basically juice.”

Mojito guffaws. “Alright, big guy. See you around.”

Sukuna winds his way over to the kitchen and opens the fridge to find something stronger. He isn’t necessarily proud of his alcohol tolerance—you give him shit about it all the time—but he’s never been one to enjoy a party without being at least a little tipsy.

“Looking for something?”

He closes the fridge and sees a girl watching him with a smile. She’s leaning against the counter, all dolled up in a pretty little dress with a beer in hand. He swears he’s never seen this girl before, but it doesn’t matter. If there’s one thing Sukuna does best, it’s pique the interest of strangers who just so happen to be incredibly hot.

He holds up the bottle of gin he found. “Just something to drink,” he says, cracking it open and taking a swig. He holds it out for the girl. “Want some?”

Her red lips quirk into a smile and she takes the bottle, downing quite a bit of it before she hands it back to him. They pass the bottle back and forth until Sukuna drinks the last of it, emptying the liquid into his mouth.

The girl giggles, resting her hand on Sukuna’s chest. “That’s quite the introduction.”

“What can I say?” He grins. “I make one hell of a first impression.”

Now, the alcohol does its trick. He can feel himself get a little hazy, he can feel himself loosen up. And he can feel the awfully apparent hard-on in his pants as the girl leans forward and whispers in his ear, “Wanna have some fun?”

He doesn’t even think, instinct and intoxication kicking in as he says, “Sure.”

Sukuna pulls the girl into a bathroom and she’s on him before he can even close the door. She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him. It’s sloppy and messy, probably driven by booze, but he kisses her back.

He doesn’t know why. It’s almost second-nature to him, this whole song and dance. But as he kisses her, a part of him screams that what he’s doing is wrong. Why?

He pulls back from her and trails his lips down her neck, searching for the spot that has her moaning at his touch. It’s so predictable, so normal, the way she pants against him as his hands slide from her waist up to cup her breasts. Women are so easy, he thinks.

The girl’s hands move down his chest, past his abdomen, and land on his belt. She unbuckles it and pushes it aside, tugging his zipper down.

With a smile, she sinks to her knees and pulls his pants and underwear down. His cock springs out, already painfully hard. She bats her eyelashes at him and in a sickly sweet voice asks, “Can I suck you off?”

And Sukuna says the only thing he knows to say.

“Sure.”

The girl places her dainty fingers around his cock and pumps it a few times before she wraps her mouth around it. Sukuna groans and reaches for her head, guiding her to take his length all the way in. When she chokes a little at the sheer size of it, he closes his eyes in ecstasy.

As the girl bobs her head up and down his shaft, the warmth of her mouth pushing grunt after grunt from his lips, Sukuna’s mind starts to wander as it is wont to do at times like these. His pleasure builds with every flick of her tongue, with every touch of her hand. It’s been a while since he’s felt this good, he thinks—and then he remembers.

You.

He thinks of you padding around your apartment in that one worn-out shirt you’ve been wearing since high school. He thinks of you getting into his car after a day of class, immediately launching into a rant about your professor and your useless groupmates. He thinks of you lying in your bed beside him, that one night after you’d confided in him about your nightmares. And he thinks about how he’d looked at you then, when you were fast asleep, and he thought that you’d never looked so beautiful.

“I made a promise,” he’d said. “Let me keep it.”

His eyes fly open and he looks down at the girl with her face pressed against his groin. All at once, the pleasure fades, and all he’s left with is disgust. And guilt.

He moves the girl off of him and quickly tucks himself back into his pants.

“What’s going on?” she asks, getting up with a bewildered expression. She tries to grab him as he zips himself up and starts heading for the door. “Hey!”

He dodges her grip and shakes his head, grabbing the doorknob. “Sorry,” he says before he goes outside.

As he moves to close the door behind him, he stills.

Satoru stands in front of him, an arm wrapped around who Sukuna can only assume is his new girlfriend. He looks startled, confused. Sukuna feels his blood run cold.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” the girl demands as she comes out of the bathroom behind him.

Satoru’s eyes narrow. Realization. Anger.

Sukuna tries to get away before the situation escalates any further, but a hand grabs at the collar of his shirt before he can leave.

Your ex presses him against the wall. His eyes are dark and his other hand is balled into a fist at his side.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Satoru growls.

Sukuna pushes him off roughly and glares. “None of your fucking business.”

Satoru grabs Sukuna again and raises his fist, ready to land it on your best friend’s nose, and for a split second Sukuna has one thought on his mind: I deserve it.

“Satoru.”

Kimi’s voice is even as she calls out her boyfriend’s name from behind him. Satoru’s hand stops in the air for a moment before he lowers it and pushes Sukuna away. He backs up, but his eyes remain cold and hard as they shoot daggers at the man in front of him.

“Whatever,” he says, placing a hand on Kimi’s waist before he leads her away.

Just when he thinks it’s over, Sukuna feels a sharp sting on his cheek. A slap.

The girl whose name he doesn’t even know snarls at him. “Jerk,” she says as she gives him the finger and backs away into the crowd. “Asshole!”

Sukuna raises a hand to his cheek. He lets out a bitter chuckle. He deserves it.

You blink as Sukuna’s messages come into your phone in quick succession.

booger: going to a party

Then—

booger: gl with studying

Then—

booger: and gl with ur test

Then—

booger: just call me if u want company

You snort. Most people don’t know this, but as his best friend, you know just how soft Sukuna can be. You call him out on it most of the time, make fun of him when he’s being excessively clingy or sweet, but you have to admit that you actually like seeing this side of him.

And the fact that this side of him only seemingly comes out for you?

Yeah, you can’t deny that you like it a lot.

You reply to his message and put your phone away to confront the pages of notes on the table in front of you. With a sigh, you grab a highlighter and decide to start studying.

No one knows this, but in your senior year of high school, you’d actually considered not going to college. You were definitely expected to, what with the path you’d paved for yourself, but after years of toiling away at your academics, you considered letting yourself take a break. And what with your family fracturing in the last few months of high school… It was safe to say that ditching college wouldn’t have been what was expected, but it might have been what you needed.

Then the offer came in. A scholarship for a school far away from home, one that would handle everything from your tuition to the better-than-most apartment you now lived in. It was the best-case scenario, only made better when Sukuna rushed over the morning your results came out to say that he had gotten in too.

You have no idea what kind of luck had suddenly been granted to you, but you never questioned it. You took what you could and ran.

Maybe you never stopped running.

You lean back in your seat and stretch your back, yawning as you look down at your notes. You’re nearly done, just have to memorize a few terms before you can turn in for the night.

You glance at your phone. It’s been surprisingly quiet tonight, void of anyone asking for help with classes, projects, or life in general. You check the time. 10:27 PM—still pretty early.

You open your contacts and press on Sukuna’s to call him.

It rings.

And rings.

And, “Leave a message or whatever.” Then, in the background, you hear your own laugh and your own voice teasing, “Are you trying to make your voicemail sound cool?”

You drop the call and frown at your phone.

Weird, you think. He’s never ignored your calls before.

notes. uh-oh 🫣

#hqbaby.miu #hqbaby #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo #gojo x reader #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut

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