or in which you finally choose yourself over him when he posts someone else on his feed.
★ lando norris x reader.
☆ angst, fluff, a little bit of smau + written, backburner!reader, red flag!lando, yearning!lando, proofread but i wrote this when i'm at school so..
word count: 1.6k+
ⓘ waynesheir m.list
Every moment with Lando are the moments you will always see in your life, hoping that someday you'll make it together.
But hope never holds for long.
The cruel thing is, Lando gave you hope and you've been eating it ever since.
Maybe because you thought that he'll finally choose you after he had more time and that you'll always be in his corner, waiting for him to come back to you.
It started with the late replies, missed calls to no contact.
You try to keep yourself busy, thinking that maybe he just got busy with the Dutch race, he's a driver after all.
A notification brought you back from the immense concentration on your work, your eyes lit up when you saw his Instagram update.
Your fingers move to tap it, and your smile flatters when you see the post.
landonorris
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landonorris Home is where the heart is 🧡
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lanynation isn't he's with yn? why is he suddenly posting diff girl ⤷ underf1 let's be honest, we all knew this would happen if we tracked his records
milknando i thought lanyn was end game, i guess not..
f1protip i expect more from you, lando
papayagirl uhm....
yndove nooo 💔💔 it's always a loser with a bad bitch, miss you yn ⤷ fisherlando fr, i love herrr
mclaren you guys look cute!
[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]
A girl, Blonde, maybe a model.
Smiling at the camera, his hand on her waist.
They look happy, he look happy.
Your heart shatters, all the memories with him are gone, replaced by the betrayal you'd seen with your own eyes and you can't be upset, there's no special relationship between you both.
And suddenly the train of memories flashes through your mind, where both of you were happy, but he was never in the picture to begin with.
Your heart always denied, but deep down you always knew that you would never be his choice, you were not his option to start with.
He calls you late at night a hundred times, texts you just to say he missed you, and always, always keeps a voicemail when you can't answer him.
He gives you hope but not certainty.
Lando will disappear for a few days and then come back to you like nothing happened.
You pretended nothing happened, that you're not checking your phone every five minutes when he's gone, no news no calls. You're trying to understand him.
Maybe, some things are not worth understanding.
[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]
“Hey, sorry. I forgot to tell you, didn't want you to– uh, saw the post suddenly and then, i just–” He sounds nervous, but not guilty.
“I didn’t want to hide anything, you know. It just happened, I mean–” he added.
You keep grounding yourself, “Yeah, it's fine, you don't need to explain. We weren't anything”
It's not fine and you know it, He's keeping you on the ledge but never really addressing the relationship between you two.
Your friends already tell you to move on, don't be with someone like Lando. You knew they were right, that you're always the second choice, the backburner.
“It's not like that. You matter to me” He sighs softly into the phone.
The words slap you through the phone, “As what, Lando?” and before he could answer, you ended the call.
The tears that are already brimming in your eyes fall, slowly and then the drop gets faster. You spent the night crying on your pillow. Wailing your heart out.
You stay away from the paddock, the race, the F1 live streaming on TV.
Lando kept texting, you left him on read. At first, it was confusing, casual but lately the text became needy.
He just noticed now that you always used to answer his texts fast, no matter what time of day. Always picked up his phone on the third ring.
And now, he doesn’t see anything about you.
Nothing.
You didn't block him, didn't even delete the messages or the voice note. You just gave up on your feelings, finally admitting to your heart that he will never see you the way you see him.
He likes having you close, but not close enough to choose.
[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]
Lando seems to get worse, he can't get his mind off of you, and his mind wanders to your laugh when he's on the sim.
He misses apexes he never misses, he spaces out during media sessions, and looks at the table with empty eyes at the team briefings.
The memories of you haunted him.
His girlfriend– Nicole, the one he posted on Instagram, also noticed.
Every dinner they have is filled with silence, and not the comfortable one. She sees the way his eyes always drift to the phone beside his meal, like waiting for a message that never went through.
Until one day she finally snaps, “Seriously, what's wrong with you? Why are you looking at your phone?” Rage was visible in her eyes.
Lando didn't say anything, just kept his eyes down on the table.
She scoffed at the lack of words he gave her, “You're still searching for her aren't you? Didn't know a girl could slut herself out and get attached to you”
He bit his tongue, jaw clenching, “I'm the one who gets attached and that's not her fault, it was mine since the start, so don't you put her at fault”
She stared at him in disbelief, he was supposed to be her boyfriend but then his thoughts kept wandering back to the girl she hates because of their relationship before they dated.
“So now you defend her? Fine, we're done, I'll pick up my things next week” She grabs her purse and phone, the front door of his Monaco apartment slams shut hard.
He didn't move. Didn't want to.
Because for all its worth, he never loved her, or even liked her.
Losing her even isn't half as hurt when he loses you.
[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]
The move on the journey wasn't that hard, maybe because he never gave you that much attention.
The third month after his new relationship, you're back on the paddock for the Hungarian GP but you're not going to watch Lando, you have someone else.
Lando saw you in the McLaren hospitality, and as he walked towards you, he stopped when he saw Oscar escorting you to his side of the garage.
Oscar notices him first, gives him a small smile, and a nod. You turn your head, the little grin on your lips flatters when you see Lando.
You turn your head to face Oscar again before finally walking to his garage.
Oscar got the second position, Charles in the lead, and Lando in third.
Lando saw the way Oscar threw his arms around you, holding you tight in public the way he hasn't when you're close with him.
He watches how carefree your face is, your laugh that used to be for him is now reserved for someone else.
He didn't know how he cornered you, but he did. When everyone goes to celebrate Oscar's second place in quali, Lando sees you and seizes his chance at talking to you.
He said your name in a whisper, “Lando” The look you gave him is cold, no warmth.
He pulls back a little, “I- I broke up with Nicole”
“Okay” That's your only response, no excitement in it.
He clears his throat, feeling his chest tighten, “I– uh, I'm free now and if you give me just one chance again then I'd choose you. Anytime, Every time. Without hesitation”
The silence after his words is deafening, you didn't say anything but Lando held his breath, heart thumping loudly against his ribcage.
For a second, he let himself hope, just a moment. Before finally you open your mouth.
“That's the thing, Lando. You always choose me when you feel alone, when the world leaves you behind, you only want me now because there's nothing else you have” You exhale loudly through your nose.
“You had me, Lando. I have given you chance after chance, but you never choose me. I won't be anyone's second try” You swallow the lump in your throat.
Lando looks at you like he's hurting and the truth unspoken that he is.
“I-I mean it, I'd do anything– anything. Just give me one chance, please. I'll treat you better. One date, o-or even one hour” He was nervous now, stumbling on his words, his hand reaching out but not close enough that he could touch you, he didn't know if you'd lean to his touch or run away from him.
When he doesn't hear from you, he opens his mouth again but someone cuts him off.
Oscar called your name to which you replied to and he asked you to join him, when you did, you left Lando all alone, staring at the empty spot in front of him.
[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]
The GP went well, Oscar has never been more happy to race that Sunday.
He's been watching you since Lando brought you for the first time to McLaren hospitality. Oscar saw the way he treated you, noticing how you'd give his teammate a sad smile when you thought no one's looking.
He looks at Lando's post that night, he offers you comfort when the said man is nowhere in sight, he takes his chance with you and promises to himself that he'd be a better man than him.
Oscar wins his first GP and when he gets out of his car, his eyes search for nothing but you. After he spots you in parc fermé he runs straight to you.
Lando watched from the sideline, he got second place and his heart clenched immediately upon his eyes caught the view of Oscar kissing you.
The fans are screaming, you're laughing with his teammate and Lando feels like he's the biggest fool of all because he's not taking any chances with you when he has them.
Your eyes drifted to his figure for a while, then you turned your head towards Oscar while grinning at him and giving him another kiss on his lips before finally ushering him to go to the podium.
yourusername
liked by realbarbarapalvin, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, lilymhe, sabrinacarpenter and 674.986 others
yourusername my baby's first win! many more to go! 🏆🤍
tagged: oscarpiastri
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oscarpiastri i love you, pretty girl liked by yourusername ⤷ yourusername ik, i love me too ⤷ oscarpiastri baby, please ⤷ yourusername i love you too, piastri 🙄
realbarbarapalvin yeay! no more tears for a man that's not worth it. you look rlly pretty baby liked by yourusername ⤷ oscynnation lmao, barbara clocked lando ⤷ yourusername thank youu bb <3
osc81 he's smitten, your honor
lilymhe you guys look soooo cute, i miss you girl liked by yourusername ⤷ yourusername i miss you too, let's hang out tomorrow
landonorris you look pretty comment deleted ⤷ ynloves you're not slick lando, i saw that lol
sabrinacarpenter my boy only breaks his favorite toys liked by yourusername
⤷ manchildd omg, the shadeee
oscarpiastri
liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername, lewishamilton, maxverstappen1, f1 and 865.245 others
oscarpiastri Hope i can freeze the moment forever, glad to win this GP and have you at the same time 🧡
tagged : yourusername
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________
yourusername do you mind if i visit your place? ⤷ oscarpiastri a pretty girl comes to my place? i'd be honored, the door's wide open baby ⤷ orangesuits their relationship dynamic >>>>
shabbychic bet there's tension in the McLaren garage
fullofwater they look so good together, she's the only one who can pull out emotion from him ⤷ wisdomwords fr, i'm used to his poker face and business smiles
alex_albon double date when? liked by yourusername and oscarpiastri
f1gossip forget oscar, lemme have yn right now
mclaren oscar is a real winner 🏆
f1wag new wag incoming‼️‼️
a/n : my first time ever wrote for an f1 driver and making a smau that's not a kpop idol. hope y'll enjoy it, the ending is kinda rushed i think. idk, i want to finish it in one day so...
backburner!zanka who is always there to lend you his shoulder as you pour your heart out, crying about how your partner stood you up on your anniversary date again
backburner!zanka who offers the other side of his pristine bed to you, filled with worry that you might not get a good night's sleep due to the redness of your eyes
backburner!zanka who keeps a respectable distance from your body, going so far as to place his pillow in-between the two of you
backburner!zanka who feels his heart hammer instantly when your warm hand found his, clutching it with so much force that he could feel his pinky tingling
backburner!zanka who whispers word of encouragements and advices in hushed tones, desperate to reach your aching heart because he cannot bear to stand this sight of you
backburner!zanka who stares at the pillow, imaging your sleeping face at the other side, wondering what dream you're having as he rubs his thumb against your wrist
backburner!zanka who lets sleep take over, as he swears how much better he could treat you than your shit-of-a-partner
backburner!zanka who wakes up alone on his bed, your side neatly cleaned like you hadn't spent the night there with him
backburner!zanka who has to watch you act all lovey-dovey with your partner, like they hadn't just made you cry you heart out on him just last night
backburner!zanka who physically feel his heart break when you walk past him in the hallway with not so much as a wave or a simple glance at his direction
backburner!zanka who ignores the painful thumping on his chest, deciding right there and then to head towards the training ground for another day of practise
★ synopsis
as you chase the magnetic pull of sparks and half-promises from someone who never quite chooses you, huening kai remains your quiet constant—gentle, steady, and always there with unspoken care.
★ pairing: uni student!kai x fem!reader, mentions of yeonjun
★ genre: eventual smut (18+ mdni!) with a plot, slight angst, kai is too kind for his own good, backburner kai, no labels (in your relationship) with yeonjun
★ status | word count: completed | 6.6k
★ song rec: backburner - niki
★ ao3: backburner
note: first kai fic! inspired by niki's song, backburner because i feel like kai as a backburner is something not far off since he's always so kind to everyone, more so to someone he's in love with >_<
(...and of course we have slight appearances of our resident playboy choi yeonjun)
enjoy <3
It was late in the afternoon when you sat hunched over your laptop in the corner carrel, fingers hovering above the keys, pretending to revise your literature review while your mind replayed last night's party.
Yeonjun had been everywhere and nowhere—laughing too loud with his group of friends, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, the silver chain around his neck catching every light. He'd caught your eye across the crowded living room, flashed that crooked, knowing smile, and sauntered over like gravity bent for him alone. His hand had brushed your lower back when he leaned in to speak over the music, lips close enough that you felt the heat of his breath against your ear.
"You look good tonight," he murmured, voice low and teasing. "Dangerous, even."
You laughed, played it cool, let your fingers trail down his arm just long enough to feel the flex of muscle beneath skin. But when the night wound down and people started drifting toward after-parties or Ubers, he kissed your cheek—chaste, almost polite—and disappeared with a promise to text. That text still hadn't come.
Your phone buzzed against the table.
It wasn't Yeonjun.
Kai
hey, you still in the lib? i just finished calc and i'm starving. ramen run?
You stared at the message, thumb hovering. Huening Kai. Sweet, soft-spoken Kai with the too-long bangs he kept pushing out of his eyes, the one who'd sat next to you in freshman year and quietly shared his notes when you zoned out.
The one who always asked how your day was like he actually wanted the answer.
The one you'd been stringing along with late-night playlists, study sessions that lasted until the building closed, and hugs that lingered one heartbeat too long.
You typed back before you could overthink it.
Yeah, meet me at the east entrance at 10?
You shut your laptop, shoved it into your bag, and tried not to feel the familiar twist of guilt in your stomach.
Kai was waiting outside when you pushed through the heavy glass doors. He wore an oversized hoodie, sleeves bunched at his wrists, backpack slung over one shoulder. His smile bloomed the second he saw you—bright, unguarded, the kind that made something warm and uncomfortable bloom behind your ribs.
"Hey," he said, falling into step beside you as you headed toward the campus food trucks. "You look tired. Bad day?"
"Just... assignments," you lied, bumping his shoulder lightly. "You?"
He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Same. Taehyun kept trying to explain eigenvalues like I was five. I think my brain leaked out my ears."
You laughed genuinely and he glanced sideways at you, eyes crinkling at the corners. The ramen truck was parked near the quad, steam curling from the pots, fairy lights already strung up even though dusk was still an hour away. You ordered your usual and Kai got the tonkatsu with double noodles because "protein is important." he says.
You sat on the low concrete wall separating the food area from the grass, bowls balanced on your knees, chopsticks clacking.
"So," Kai said after a few minutes of comfortable silence, "you disappeared pretty early last night. Everything okay?"
You froze mid-bite. "Yeah. Just... not feeling the vibe after a while."
He nodded slowly, poking at his broth. "Yeonjun hyung was looking for you. Said you guys were talking."
The casual way he said it made your chest tighten. Kai never pushed, never pried, but he noticed everything.
"We were," you admitted. "Nothing serious."
Kai's gaze flicked to your face, searching. Then he smiled again—smaller this time.
"Cool. He throws good parties."
You hummed noncommittally and changed the subject to the upcoming midterms. Kai lets you steer the conversation, laughing at your terrible impressions of the psych professor, offering you bites of his noodles when yours got too spicy. When your phone stayed silent in your pocket, the absence felt louder than any notification.
Later, as the sky bruised purple and the campus lights flickered on, Kai walked you back to your dorm. The path wound through the sculpture garden—abstract bronze shapes looming like silent guardians. At the steps of your building, he stopped, rocking back on his heels.
"Thanks for tonight," he said quietly. "I know you're busy."
You looked at him—really looked. The way his hair curled slightly at the nape of his neck, the faint freckles across his nose that only showed up in certain lights, the gentle uncertainty in his eyes that made you want to reach out and smooth it away.
"I'm not that busy," you say.
He laughed under his breath. "Right."
Impulsively, you stepped closer and hugged him. His arms came around you immediately, warm and steady, chin resting lightly on top of your head. You could smell his laundry detergent—clean cotton and something faintly sweet, like vanilla. For a moment you let yourself sink into it, let yourself imagine what it would feel like to stay here instead of chasing after someone who only half-turned in your direction.When you pulled back, his hands lingered at your waist for a second longer than necessary.
"Text me when you get inside?" he asked.
You nodded. "Promise."
He waited until the door clicked shut behind you before turning away.Weeks blurred. Midterms came and went in a haze of caffeine and highlighted PDFs.
Yeonjun reappeared in flashes—messages at 2 a.m. asking if you were still up, a hand on your thigh under the table at a group dinner in the dining hall, a drunk voicemail where he called you "pretty" three times in a row.
Each time, you answered.
Each time, you told yourself this was it—he was finally seeing you.
And each time, he pulled back.
Kai remained constant. He was there when your group project partner flaked, quietly taking over the data analysis without complaint. He was there when you cried in the bathroom after a presentation went sideways, waiting outside with a bottle of iced tea and no questions. He was there on rainy afternoons in his off-campus apartment, both of you sprawled on his bed with laptops open, legs tangled under a shared blanket while some playlist hummed in the background.
One afternoon, the rain tapped insistently against the window like impatient fingers. You'd been "studying" for two hours, which mostly meant scrolling your phone while Kai actually worked.
Yeonjun had posted a story—him shirtless in the gym mirror, caption just a flexing emoji. Your stomach flipped the way it always did as you tossed your phone aside with a groan.
Kai glanced over. "You okay?"
"No," you muttered. "Just... stupid."
He closed his laptop, turned to face you fully. "Talk to me."
You hesitated. Then the words spilled out—how Yeonjun kept you orbiting, how every almost-moment felt like a promise he never kept, how you hated that you still wanted more. Kai listened without interrupting, expression soft and unreadable. When you finished, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered against your cheek.
"You're worth more than waiting around," he said quietly.
The air in the room thickened, heavy with the scent of rain-soaked earth drifting through the cracked window and the faint trace of laundry detergent clinging to his hoodie. The playlist you put on earlier had long since faded to silence, leaving only the soft patter against the glass and the quickening rhythm of your own breathing.
You felt the shift the moment his gaze dropped to your mouth—dark eyes flickering with something raw and unguarded. His thumb brushed the corner of your lip, slow, deliberate, like he was asking without words.
Permission.
Hesitation.
Want.
And you answered by leaning in first.
The kiss began carefully, almost fragile. His lips were plush and uncertain, parting only enough to let you lead. You could feel the tremor in them, the way he held himself back like he was afraid one wrong move would shatter the moment. But when your fingers slid into the soft hair at his nape and tugged gently, something inside him snapped loose and a low, rough groan vibrated against your mouth.
His hands found your waist and pulled, guiding you up and over until you were straddling his lap, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. The sudden friction made you both gasp—his sweatpants thin, your leggings even thinner, nothing but heat and the hardening length of him pressing insistently up against your core.
You rocked down instinctively, slow and deliberate, dragging yourself along the thick ridge of him. Kai’s head tipped back against the headboard with a soft thud, throat working on a swallowed sound. His fingers flexed on your hips, not quite guiding yet, just holding on like he needed the anchor.
“God,” he breathed, voice wrecked already. “You feel—”
You cut him off with another roll of your hips, harder this time, grinding down until the seam of your leggings caught perfectly against your clit and his cock twitched violently beneath you. His hands slid up under your shirt, palms broad and warm against the small of your back, urging you closer.
“Wait,” he gasped, breaking the kiss just enough to speak against your lips. His pupils were blown wide, cheeks flushed high. “Are you sure? We don’t have to—”
You kissed him deeper in answer, tongue sliding against his, coaxing until he opened for you fully. He tasted like mint and the faint sweetness of the peach tea he’d been drinking earlier.
Your hands pushed under his hoodie, rucking it up so you could feel the smooth planes of his stomach, the faint tremor of muscle under skin as he fought to stay still.
“I’m sure,” you murmured against his mouth. “I want you like this. Right now.”
That seemed to be the permission he needed as his grip tightened and he rocked up into you in a slow, filthy grind that made your breath hitch. You matched him, finding a rhythm—long, dragging slides that had you both panting into each other’s mouths.
The friction was maddening through layers of fabric, not enough and too much all at once. You could feel every inch of him, thick and heavy, pulsing against you with every roll of his hips. Kai’s hands roamed higher, pushing your shirt up and over your head in one smooth motion. Cool air kissed your skin; then his mouth was there, hot and open against your collarbone, sucking a bruise into the hollow of your throat while his thumbs brushed the undersides of your breasts through your bra.
You arched, offering more and he took it—palming you fully, kneading with careful reverence until your nipples tightened into aching points. When he tugged the cups down and closed his mouth over one peak, tongue flicking slow circles, you moaned loud enough that it echoed off the walls.
“Kai—”
He switched sides, giving the other the same attention, teeth grazing just enough to make you jolt. All the while his hips kept moving, relentless, grinding his cock up against your soaked center in a rhythm that had heat coiling tighter and tighter in your belly.
You needed more.
You pushed at his shoulders until he fell back against the pillows, hair fanning dark against the pale sheets. His eyes were glassy, lips swollen and red from your kisses.
Beautifully undone.
You peeled his hoodie off, then his t-shirt beneath it, revealing the long, lean lines of him. Your palms slid down his chest, nails dragging lightly over his nipples until he hissed and bucked beneath you. When your hand dipped lower, palming the thick outline of him through damp fabric, he choked on a sound that was half plea, half curse.
“Fuck—please—”
You tugged his waistband down just enough to free him. He sprang up against his stomach, flushed dark and leaking at the tip. You wrapped your fingers around him and gave one slow stroke from base to head. His hips jerked, a bead of pre come welling up immediately.
Before he could overthink, you shifted forward, straddling one of his thighs instead. You pressed your clothed cunt down against the firm muscle and rocked—slow, filthy drags that dragged your clit along the length of his leg with every pass. Kai watched, mesmerized, hands flexing uselessly at his sides until you grabbed them and placed them on your hips.
“Help me,” you whispered and he obeyed instantly.
His fingers dug in, guiding and helping you grind down harder, faster. The pressure was perfect, the friction of your leggings against his bare skin obscene. You could feel yourself leaking through the fabric, making everything slicker, hotter.
“God,” he groaned, voice gravel-rough. “You’re so wet—I can feel it.”
You leaned down, kissing him messy and open while you rode his thigh in earnest. Every drag sent sparks up your spine. His free hand slid between you, cupping you through the soaked cotton, thumb pressing firm circles over your clit. The added pressure tipped you dangerously close.
“Kai—fuck, I’m—”
“Come for me,” he rasped against your mouth. “Please. I want to feel it.”
You shattered with a broken cry, hips stuttering as pleasure crashed through you in waves. Kai held you through it, strong thigh flexing beneath you to keep the pressure steady, thumb circling your clit with gentle insistence until every last tremor had wrung itself out of you. When the aftershocks finally subsided, you collapsed forward against his chest, forehead pressed to the damp hollow of his throat.
His heartbeat thundered under your ear—fast, unsteady, matching the ragged rise and fall of his ribs. His cock was still achingly hard, trapped between your bodies, the flushed head smearing sticky precome across the soft skin of your stomach with every tiny shift.
You could feel how badly he needed release; the way he twitched involuntarily against you, the shallow, helpless rolls of his hips he tried and failed to suppress. You lifted your head just enough to meet his glassy eyes. His lips were parted, swollen from earlier kisses, cheeks flushed a deep rose that spread down his neck.
Beautiful. Completely wrecked for you.
You kissed him slowly—lazy, open-mouthed, letting your tongue slide against his in a way that made him whimper into your mouth. One hand cupped the back of his neck, fingers threading through damp hair; the other drifted down his chest, nails dragging lightly over his nipples until he arched with a soft, broken sound. When you finally broke the kiss, you held his gaze as you slid lower.
“Stay still,” you murmured, voice husky. “Let me take care of you first.”
His breath hitched. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” You kissed the center of his chest, then lower, following the faint trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath his waistband. “I want to taste you.”Kai made a strangled noise—half protest, half plea—and his hands fisted in the sheets like he was trying to anchor himself.
You settled between his spread thighs, palms smoothing up the insides of them until he shivered. His cock lay heavy against his lower stomach, flushed dark, veins prominent, the tip glistening. You wrapped your fingers around the base and gave one slow, deliberate stroke from root to head.
A fresh bead of precome welled up immediately; you swiped your thumb over it, spreading the slickness, then brought it to your lips and sucked it clean while holding his stare.
His hips jerked. “Fuck—please—”
You leaned down and dragged the flat of your tongue along the underside in one long, wet stripe, from base to slit. Kai’s whole body tensed, a low groan tearing from his throat as you circled the head with soft, teasing flicks before closing your lips around him and sucking gently—just the tip at first, letting your tongue play along the sensitive frenulum until his thighs trembled on either side of you.
His hand flew to your hair, not pushing, just threading through the strands like he needed something to hold onto.
“Oh god—baby—”
The endearment slipped out again, raw and reverent. It sent heat curling through your core. You took him deeper, inch by inch, until he bumped the back of your throat. You hollowed your cheeks and swallowed around him, the tight ripple of your throat making his hips buck involuntarily.
A choked sound escaped him; his fingers tightened in your hair, not guiding, just trembling.You pulled back with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting your lips to the glistening head, then dove back down—setting a steady rhythm now. Up and down, tongue swirling, hand working what your mouth couldn’t reach. The wet, obscene sounds filled the room, mingling with his increasingly desperate gasps and the rain tapping insistently against the window.
Kai was unraveling fast.
His abs contracted with every downward slide, thighs shaking, breaths coming in short, ragged pants. You could feel him thickening against your tongue, pulsing harder with each pass.
“Close—fuck, I’m so close—” His voice cracked. “Gonna—wait, I don’t want to—”
You pulled off just long enough to murmur against the slick head, “Come in my mouth. I want it.”
His eyes snapped open, wide and dark and stunned. Then his head fell back against the pillow with a broken moan and he gave in. You took him deep again—deep enough that your nose brushed the soft skin at his base—and sucked hard, tongue pressing flat along the underside. Kai’s hips stuttered once, twice—then he arched off the bed with a strangled cry, spilling hot and thick across your tongue in long, pulsing spurts.
You swallowed around him, working him through every tremor until he was whimpering from overstimulation, hips twitching away even as his hand kept you close. Only when his body finally went boneless did you ease off slowly, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive shaft, then up the line of his hip, his stomach, his chest. When you reached his face he was flushed crimson, eyes glassy and unfocused, lips parted on shallow breaths.
You kissed him deeply, letting him taste himself on your tongue, and he groaned into your mouth like the flavor undid him all over again.You shifted higher, straddling his hips once more. His cock—still half-hard, slick from your mouth—twitched against your inner thigh.
You reached down between your bodies, guiding the head to nudge against your entrance, already soaked and aching from earlier. Kai’s hands found your waist immediately, fingers digging in like he was afraid you’d disappear.
“You okay?” you whispered against his lips.
He nodded frantically, voice wrecked. “Please—please let me feel you.”
You kissed him again before reaching down to tug your leggings and underwear off in one go. Naked now, you straddled him again—this time aligning yourself so the head of him nudged against your entrance, slick and open from your orgasm.
His eyes widened.
“Wait—condom—”You shook your head. “I’m on the pill. And I trust you.”He swallowed hard, hands shaking as they settled on your waist again.
You sank down slowly. The stretch was exquisitely slow, burning, perfect. Inch by inch until your hips met his and he was buried to the hilt inside you. You both stilled for a heartbeat, breathing ragged, foreheads pressed together.
“Fuck,” he whispered, voice trembling with awe. “You feel—god, you feel so fucking good.”
You rolled your hips experimentally, testing the angle. He groaned like he’d been punched, fingers flexing on your skin.
Then you started to move.
Slow at first—lifting and sinking, letting him feel every drag of your walls around him. His head tipped back, throat exposed, Adam’s apple bobbing as he fought for control.
You leaned back, bracing your hands on his thighs behind you, changing the angle so he hit deeper, harder. His eyes snapped open, pupils blown black.
“Like that?” you murmured, rolling your hips in tight, filthy circles.He could only nod, mouth open on silent gasps. You sped up—riding him with purpose now, thighs flexing, breasts bouncing with every downward stroke. His hands roamed everywhere—gripping your ass, sliding up to cup your breasts, thumbs flicking your nipples in time with your rhythm.
When you clenched deliberately around him, he bucked up hard, meeting your next drop with a thrust that made stars burst behind your eyes.
“Fuck—baby—” The word slipped out again, raw and desperate.
You leaned down, kissing him deep and messy while you ground against him, clit rubbing against his pelvis with every roll. The wet sounds of your bodies meeting filled the room—obscene, intoxicating. He was close again—you could feel it in the way his thighs tensed, the way his breaths came shorter, sharper, the way he pulsed inside you.
“Touch me,” you whispered against his ear. “Make me come again—then you can let go.”
His hand slid between you instantly, fingers finding your clit and rubbing fast, tight circles just the way you’d shown him earlier. The combination—him filling you completely, stretching you, his thumb working you mercilessly—sent you spiraling. You came with a cry muffled against his neck, walls fluttering and pulsing around him in rhythmic waves.
That was all it took.
Kai’s hips snapped up once, twice—then he buried himself as deep as he could and came with a broken, shuddering moan, pulsing hot inside you in long, thick spurts. His arms banded around your waist, holding you flush against him as he trembled through the aftershocks, face buried in the crook of your neck.
For long minutes neither of you moved—just panting, hearts hammering against each other’s chests, skin slick with sweat and rain-scented air. Eventually he eased you both down onto the mattress, still inside you, softening slowly. He pressed soft, reverent kisses along your jaw, your temple, the corner of your eye where a tear of overstimulation had slipped free without you noticing.
Afterward, you lay tangled in his sheets, limbs heavy with the kind of exhaustion that comes after release, after surrender. The rain had slowed to a gentle drizzle, tapping irregularly against the window like fingertips drumming on glass.
Kai’s arm draped across your waist, solid and warm, his chest pressed to your back so you could feel every slow, even rise and fall of his breathing. His heartbeat thudded steadily against your spine—reliable, grounding, nothing like the erratic flutter Yeonjun always left behind.
He shifted slightly, nose brushing the nape of your neck before his lips found the curve of your shoulder. Lazy, open-mouthed kisses trailed there, soft enough to feel like whispers against your skin. Each one sent a faint aftershock rippling through you, a reminder of how thoroughly he’d unraveled you just minutes earlier.
“You okay?” he murmured, voice rough from overuse, thick with sleep already creeping in. You turned in his arms, slow and careful so the mattress didn’t creak too loudly.
His face was close—eyes half-lidded, lashes dark against flushed cheeks, lips still swollen from everything you’d done to each other. You kissed the corner of his mouth, tasting the faint salt of sweat and the lingering sweetness of his earlier moans.
“More than okay,” you whispered back.
He smiled sleepily and pressed his forehead to yours for a long moment, breathing you in like he was memorizing the moment. Then his arm tightened, pulling you flush against him again, and within seconds his breathing deepened back into the slow, even rhythm of sleep.
You let yourself stay there, wrapped in him, listening to the rain and the faint creak of the old radiator in the corner. For once your mind was quiet. No racing thoughts about midterms, no spiral of what-ifs about Yeonjun.
Just the warmth of Kai’s body curled around yours, the faint ache between your thighs a reminder of how thoroughly he’d unraveled you—and how willingly you’d let him.
Until your phone lit up on the nightstand.
The screen flared bright in the dark room, cutting through the soft haze like a knife.
Yeonjun
party at mine friday night. you coming? miss your face already
You stared at the message until the screen timed out and went dark again.Kai’s breathing had evened out into the deep, trusting rhythm of sleep. One leg slung over yours, possessive in the unconscious way only someone who felt truly safe could be.
You didn’t respond. Not yet.
You lay there instead, listening to the rain and to him, letting the guilt settle like sediment in your chest. It wasn’t sharp anymore—just heavy. Persistent. A quiet reminder that you hadn’t closed the door on Yeonjun. Not really. You’d let him stay cracked open, just wide enough for a text like this to slip through.
You told yourself you’d deal with it tomorrow.
You told yourself Kai didn’t need to know.
You told yourself a lot of things in the dark.
The next few days felt suspended. You and Kai moved carefully around each other—stolen kisses in empty hallways, hands brushing under tables, nights spent in his bed where he touched you like you were something precious. But the guilt gnawed. You hadn't told him about the text. You hadn't told Yeonjun to stop.
Friday night arrived like an expiration date.
Yeonjun's apartment pulsed with low bass that vibrated through the floorboards and up into your bones. The living room was a sea of bodies: shoulders brushing, laughter spiking too loud, red solo cups sweating on every flat surface. The air tasted like cheap vodka, weed smoke, and the metallic edge of too many people breathing the same recycled oxygen.
You went because part of you still craved it—the reckless noise, the electric possibility that maybe tonight would be different, maybe this time he'd finally look at you like you were the only person in the room. You wore the black dress he’d once complimented in a late-night message. The one that clung to your hips and ended high on your thighs, the one he’d called “dangerous” with that lazy smirk.
You told yourself it was just a dress.
You knew better.
He found you in the kitchen within ten minutes.You were leaning against the counter, nursing a lukewarm beer you hadn’t really wanted, when the crowd parted and there he was—hair mussed just so, black button-down open at the collar, silver chain glinting under the overhead light. His eyes locked on yours like he’d been searching for you all night.
“There you are,” he drawled, voice low enough that it felt private even in the middle of the party.
He stepped in close—too close—bracketing you against the counter with one arm on either side of your body. The heat of him pressed in, familiar and dizzying.
“Been ghosting me?” His tone was teasing, but there was an edge beneath it, like he’d noticed the silence and didn’t like it.
“You’ve been busy,” you said, aiming for casual. It came out softer than you meant. He leaned in until his lips brushed your temple, breath warm against your skin.
“Not too busy for you.”His hand found your waist—slow, deliberate—thumb sliding under the hem of your dress to stroke the bare skin just above your hip.
The touch was light, almost innocent, but it sent heat curling low in your belly anyway. That same old pull. The one that always made you forget every promise you’d made to yourself .You felt your body tilt toward him instinctively, shoulders loosening, lips parting on a breath you didn’t mean to let out.
Then you looked up.
Kai stood in the arched doorway between the kitchen and the hallway, hoodie up, shadows pooling under the brim so you could barely see his eyes. But you felt them. Wide.
Wounded.
Frozen.
For one suspended second the entire party faded—the bass, the laughter, the clink of bottles—until it was just him watching Yeonjun’s hand on your waist, watching the way your body curved toward another man without hesitation. The betrayal in his expression was quiet and devastating. No anger. Just hurt so deep it looked like resignation.
He turned and walked away.
You shoved past Yeonjun—harder than you meant to—ignoring the surprised “hey—” that followed. Your heart slammed against your ribs as you pushed through bodies, elbowing your way toward the hallway. The cooler air hit you like a slap when you burst out of the main room.
The stairwell was dim, lit only by a single flickering bulb overhead.Kai was already halfway down the first flight, shoulders hunched, steps quick and deliberate like he couldn’t get away fast enough.
“Kai—wait.”
He stopped but didn't turn.
"I shouldn't have come." he said, voice low and cracked.
"You didn't know I'd be here."
A bitter laugh escaped him—small, hollow. “I did.”
He finally turned, just enough for you to see the shine in his eyes, the tight line of his jaw.
“I saw your story earlier. The black dress. I knew exactly where you’d be. I just…” His throat worked. “I wanted to see if you’d choose. If I walked in and you were still waiting for him, or if maybe—just maybe—you’d already chosen something else.”
The words landed like a physical blow. You stepped down until you were on the stair below him, forcing him to meet your gaze. Up close, the hurt was worse—raw, unguarded, like something vital had been torn open.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t—I wasn’t—”
“You were.” He cut you off gently, but the gentleness made it worse. “You’ve always been waiting for him. Even when you were with me. Even when I was—” His voice broke. He looked away, blinking hard. “I was just convenient. Safe. The guy who’d never leave, no matter how many times you looked past me.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” His eyes came back to yours—searching, pleading, exhausted. “Tell me you didn’t text him back that night we were together. Tell me you didn’t think about him even once while I was inside you.”
Your mouth opened. I didn’t, you thought but nothing came out. The silence stretched, heavy and damning. Kai exhaled shakily, shoulders dropping like the fight had finally drained out of him.
“I love you,” he said quietly. “I have for a long time. Longer than I should’ve. But I can’t—” His voice cracked again. “I can’t keep being the backup plan. I can’t keep hoping you’ll wake up one day and realize I’ve been right here the whole time.”
He reached down, gently prying your fingers from where they’d wrapped around his wrist without you realizing.
“Kai, please—”
He shook his head, slow, final. “Figure out what you really want. Not what feels good in the moment. Not what’s familiar. What you really want. And when you do…” He swallowed hard. “If it’s me—if you’re sure it’s me—you know where to find me.”
He let go and walked down the rest of the stairs without looking back, shoulders curved inward against the cold night air that rushed up from the open front door below.
You stood frozen on the stairwell, hand still outstretched toward empty space, until the music upstairs swelled again, drowning out the sound of your own uneven breathing.
Back inside, the party hadn’t noticed your absence.
Yeonjun was still in the kitchen, leaning against the counter now, fresh drink in hand. He raised an eyebrow when he saw you like nothing had happened.
“Everything okay?” he asked, tilting his head. That same easy confidence. The same expectation that the world, including you, would bend for him.
You looked at him.
The sharp jaw, the artful disarray of his hair, the way he stood like he owned every inch of the room. The way he expected you to fall back into orbit without question.
For the first time, the pull didn’t feel magnetic.
It felt tiring.
Exhausting.
Like a song you’d played on repeat until the melody turned thin and joyless.
"No," you said. "It's not. I have to go” You said before you turned and left without another word.
The walk back from Yeonjun’s apartment felt longer than it should have. Rain had started again while you were still inside. Streetlights turned the wet pavement into sheets of silver and black; your heels clicked unevenly against the sidewalk, echoing in the quiet hours after midnight.
The black dress clung colder now, the fabric heavy against your thighs, but you barely registered the discomfort. Your mind was still on the stairwell—Kai’s hunched shoulders disappearing into the dark, the gentle way he’d pried your fingers from his wrist like he was afraid of breaking something fragile between you.
By the time you reached his building, you were drenched. Hair plastered to your neck, mascara probably smudged into faint shadows under your eyes, arms wrapped tight around yourself against the chill that had settled bone-deep.
You stood under the shallow awning outside the entrance and buzzed his apartment.
No answer.
You waited anyway.
The concrete steps were cold even through the thin fabric of your dress. You sat, hugged your knees to your chest, let the rain drum a steady rhythm on the metal roof above. Water dripped from the edge in slow, hypnotic drops.
An hour passed—maybe two. You lost track.
Your teeth chattered softly; your fingers had gone numb but you stayed. Because running back to your dorm would have meant running away again and you were done running.
A few minutes later, the front door finally creaked open.
Kai stood in the threshold wearing gray sweatpants and a faded black t-shirt, hair sleep-mussed and sticking up in soft spikes at the crown. The hallway light behind him haloed his silhouette, casting long shadows across the steps.
He looked down at you—expression carefully blank at first, then softening into something raw and unguarded when he registered how thoroughly soaked you were.
“You’ll get sick,” he said quietly.
“I know.”
He studied you for another long beat—rain dripping from your hair, dress darkened and clinging, shoulders trembling. Then he sighed, the sound heavy with everything he wasn’t saying, and stepped aside.
“Come in.”
The warmth of the apartment hit you like a physical thing. It smelled like him. It felt safe. Familiar. He didn’t speak as he disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a thick navy towel and one of his shirts you occasionally borrowed whenever you came over.
He pressed them into your arms without meeting your eyes.
“Change,” he said softly. “Bathroom’s free.”
You nodded, throat too tight to answer.In the small bathroom, you peeled the wet dress off and left it in a sodden heap on the tile. The towel was warm from the dryer; you buried your face in it for a second, breathing him in. Then you pulled on the shirt, the edges falling mid-thigh. The fabric was soft and worn, carrying the ghost of his body heat.
Kai was on the couch now, knees drawn up, arms wrapped loosely around them. He stared at the blank TV screen like it might offer answers. The only light came from the streetlamp outside, filtering through half-closed blinds in pale gray stripes.You crossed the room slowly and sat on the opposite end of the couch. The space between you felt fragile, like a single wrong word could shatter it.
“I ended it,” you said into the quiet. “With Yeonjun. For good.”He didn’t look at you right away.
His fingers flexed against his knees.“Why?” His voice was low, careful. Like he was bracing himself for an answer he might not survive.
You swallowed. The words felt too big, too honest, but you forced them out anyway.
“Because I was hurting you. Every time I let him pull me back, I was hurting you. And I was hurting myself—chasing someone who only wanted me when it was easy for him. When I was convenient.” You paused, staring at your hands twisted in the hoodie sleeves. “And I realized… I don’t want to wait anymore. Not for half-hearted texts at 2 a.m. Not for someone who disappears the second things get real. I want someone who’s there. Every day. Even when it’s boring. Even when I’m a mess. Even when I don’t deserve it.”
Slowly, he turned his head.His eyes were red-rimmed, lashes clumped from earlier tears he hadn’t let fall in front of you. The streetlight caught the sheen in them, made them look almost liquid.
“And that’s me?” he asked. Voice barely above a whisper. Vulnerable in a way that cracked something open in your chest. You reached across the space between you, your fingers finding his. He let you take his hand, palm warm, slightly calloused.
You laced your fingers through his and held on.
“Yeah,” you breathed. “That’s you.”
He exhaled—long, shaky, like he’d been holding the breath for weeks. Then he moved. One moment you were sitting apart; the next he had pulled you into his arms, crushing you against his chest with a strength that surprised you. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, felt his heartbeat race wild and unsteady under your palm.
“I’m scared,” he admitted against your hair, voice muffled. “I’m so fucking scared you’ll change your mind again.”
“I won’t,” you whispered back. Honest. No more games. “I’m here. And I’m staying.”
You felt him swallow hard as his arms tightened
.“...I want this,” he said, quieter now. “I want us. Even if it’s messy. Even if it takes time.”
You pulled back just enough to look at him—really look. The uncertainty still lingered in his eyes, but beneath it was something steadier. Hope, maybe. Or the beginning of trust.
You leaned in and kissed him, mouths moving together like they’d always known how—soft lips, gentle tongue, the faint tremor in his breath when you cupped his jaw. His hands slid up your back under the shirt, palms warm against bare skin, holding you like you might vanish if he let go.
When you finally broke apart, foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling in the small space between you, he smiled.
“Stay?” he asked and you nodded, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth.
“I’m not going anywhere.” you tell him.
He exhaled again—this time softer, like something heavy had finally lifted. Then he tugged you down onto the couch with him until you were curled against his side, head on his chest, legs tangled under the blanket he pulled over both of you.
The apartment was quiet except for the soft rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear and the occasional drip from your wet hair onto his shirt.
No more waiting. No more settling for almosts, you thought.
You had spent so long being someone else’s backburner and in doing so, you had made Kai your own quiet backburner: the safe place you returned to when the chase grew cold, the one who waited without complaint while you chased shadows.
But tonight that cycle shattered. You weren’t anyone’s second choice anymore, and you refused to keep him as yours.
Kai wasn’t your fallback anymore; he was your choice, your every day, your real beginning—and in the warm press of his arms, with rain still tapping against the window like gentle applause,
Warnings:this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.
Summary: your boss is easy going until he’s not.
Characters: Sam Wilson, this reader is known as Dizzie.
Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜
💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼
A tickle sends a ripple through your thigh. You twitch and turn your face up, head resting in the crook of your arm. Sam’s syrupy growl flows through you as he stands in front of you. He wears a deep red robe, loosely tied around his waist as he follows the curve of your body.
You stiffly drag yourself up and cover your chest, crossing your legs as you try to shield your nudity with just two hands. He snickers and pets your chin.
“Hey, Diz,” he traces your lower lip with his thumb. “You looked so peaceful… all fucked out and sleepy.”
You blush and shrink into your shoulders. You feel that fog setting in. That distance from all around you. The lights are bleary and blinding. You feel like you’re in a tunnel. Your world is so much smaller. So contained. So crushing.
He laughs again and cradles your face. You lock up as he drops down next to you on the couch. You don’t want him to see you flinch. Everything you thought you knew about him is shattered. You can’t know how far he’ll really go or what else he’s hiding.
He smirks as he wraps his arm around you and draws you close. “Don’t take too much time coming back to earth. We got stuff to do.”
You blink and chafe in his embrace. “Stuff?”
“Sure, baby,” he caresses your cheek, his eyes devouring your dozy expression. “I gotta spoil my woman. Keep her happy.”
“Oh, um,” you shiver and hug your naked body. “I don’t need… anything.”
You turn your head away from his hand and look around. Your clothes are gone. You twist and search for anything to cover up. You pull a pillow into your lap and hide behind it. He grabs the corner and hums.
“You’re hiding from me.” He accuses.
“I… I need something…”
“Baby, you know me. I got you.” He stands up and sighs. He grips his hips and stretches his neck, pushing his shoulders wide. You flick your eyes up at the twitch under his satin robe. “I’m gonna dress you up all nice. Take you out, show you off.”
He struts around proudly. You cower around the pillow. You look down at the floor.
“Maybe… tomorrow? I should go home–”
“Diz,” he chides as he comes close again. “Whatsa matter?” He stops in front of you and trails his hands over your hair and frames your face. He forces your head up. “I know I took damn good care of you. I felt it.” He strokes your cheeks with his thumbs and bites his lips. “And damn, you took care of me.”
“Please, Sam…”
“You know why I like you, Dizzie. No, why I need you,” he says. “Cause you’re like sunshine. You’re bright and beautiful. And when you smile…”
“I… you’re my boss though…”
“I don’t gotta be.” He drags his hands down your neck and carefully kneels before you. He tickles along your shoulders. “I can be so much more. I can be better than that, Diz.”
He flutters his fingertips just along the top of your chest. You squeeze the pillow tighter. He purrs and snatches away your shield. He tosses the pillow and you squeal.
He covers your tits with his hands and kneads. He moves forward between your legs as he stays on his knees. He cups you, bouncing you, swirling his thumbs around your nipples. He kisses each bud as they harden and sits back on his heels.
“Diz, come on, give Sammy a smile.” He coaxes.
You try. You really try. You haven’t felt this way in so long. You haven’t felt that weight. That encasement. It’s like you’re not your body, but you’re trapped inside it.
“Diz, baby.” He leans in again, squeezing your chest as he pecks along your soft flesh. “Come on, baby. You want more Sammy…” He drags his lips down along your ribs. You quiver and put your hands on his shoulders. You squirm and push on him. “Sammy wants more of you.
“Please, we can go do what you want,” you pleads. “I’m sorry…”
“Don’t be sorry, baby,” he drawls as he kisses down your stomach. He nips at your pillow flesh, teething harder the closer he gets to your hip. “Damn, you’re so sweet.”
“Sam,” you beg as you grip his shoulders.
“Just a little more… then I’ll wait til dessert to get mine.” He cooes.
You whine as he pushes past your resistance. His hands fall to your thighs and he forces them wide. You squeak and brace the cushion, wriggling helplessly. He bows to kiss along your pelvis.
You twitch and clench. You’re wet again. You hate it. You don’t want to feel good because you know this is bad. Sam lied to you; he tricked you; he scared you!
He pushes his nose down along your lips and lightly flicks his tongue down. You spasm and whimper. He swipes his tongue back up, delving between your folds with a hum. You yipe and clasp onto his head.
“Sam–”
“Mmmmm,” he laps at you, slow and rhythmic, sucking on your clit and pulling away, only to lick you again. “Mmm mm mm.”
He loudly gulps you up. He rolls his head as if he’s making out with your pussy. His hands play over your thighs as he devours you, his head pressing into your stomach.
Your toes curl and your spine arches as your pulse hammers in your core. You gasp and close your eyes. You bring your hand up to bite your knuckle and smother your moans. No, no, no. Why is he doing this? Why isn’t he listening to you? Why isn’t your body listening to you?
“Come on, baby,” he growls then laps again. “I know you wanna cum for me.” He taunts and sucks your clit. You squeak. “Almost there, I can taste it.”
He buries his face in your cunt and his tongue works tirelessly against you. He pushes your thighs around his head as he pulls you down the couch. You cling to the cushion behind you and drape your arm over your eyes, hiding from him and the betrayal of your own body.
There was Bakugo Katsuki: sharp, explosive, infuriatingly smart, and impossible to read. Every glare and every word carefully calculated, even when it came to Y/N.
And then there was Denki Kaminari: the chaotic, electric, lovable dumb blonde, always in the wrong place at the right time, carrying snacks and jokes like armor, hiding a heart far deeper than anyone suspected.
Y/N had the misfortune—and maybe the blessing—of knowing both.
Bakugo was unpredictable.
Some days, he was sharp, brash, and clearly irritated by her mere presence. “Move it, Y/N,” he’d snap if she lingered near him after training, though he made sure to nudge her when a stray training dummy toppled near her. His scowl softened just enough to mask the twitch in his jaw when she flinched.
Other days, he’d linger nearby during missions, subtly covering her back in ways no one else noticed. His hand brushing against hers while passing equipment, that glance just a second too long when she struggled with a maneuver.
Y/N had no reason to be upset. It was all casual, small interactions that could be brushed off.
And yet, every time Bakugo pulled away suddenly, the weight of his absence pressed down on her chest. She’d sit in the lounge or on the stairs, staring at nothing, letting her confusion settle in.
Denki noticed.
Always.
Every time Y/N sulked, he would appear like a genie summoned by her sadness. Usually with ice cream in one hand, her favorite chips in the other. “Ah, the great Y/N, summoned by sorrow itself! Your wish for comfort has arrived!” he’d exclaim, tripping slightly over his own feet as if the world itself demanded comedy.
“Should I start billing you at this point? Seriously, my services are priceless,” he’d add with a grin.
And she’d laugh. Every time.
He’d sit beside her on the steps, letting her lean against him. He joked, teased, and laughed — sometimes so loudly it almost drowned out the quiet ache in his chest.
Because he liked her.
A lot.
Too much.
But he didn’t let her know.
He’d say things like, “Bakugo doesn’t mean to be a grump! He’s… uh… just practicing his scowl. Yeah, scowl practice! Super important.”
And she would smile. She always smiled.
It happened one evening after a particularly frustrating training session.
Y/N was curled up on the stairs outside the lounge, her arms around her knees. She was silent.
Denki appeared. Ice cream in hand. Chips balanced precariously on top. “Your wish for a funny, comforting, much more handsome than bakugo, Denki has arrived!”
She laughed weakly. “Thanks.”
And something inside him snapped.
All the jokes, the smiles, the teasing — they weren’t enough anymore.
“Y/N…” he said softly, voice quiet, almost breaking. “Even if Bakugo doesn’t… see you that way… I… I like you.”
Her eyes widened.
“I know I’m dumb,” he rushed, “and I joke too much and I probably freaked you out, but I… I really like you. Not… not like a friend…”
She froze.
“I—wait, I shouldn’t have said that!” he panicked, his usual energy bubbling to the surface, masking the real despair. “It’s nothing! Tiny crush! Like… pea-sized! Atom-sized! I already… I already have a crush on someone else!”
She blinked, confused.
“I change crushes every week!” he continued, laughing nervously. “See? Totally normal. Totally shallow! Puddle shallow! Absolutely nothing to worry about!”
And inside? The “shallow puddle” he joked about was a deep trench, dragging him down, drowning him in the ache of loving her from the sidelines. But she didn’t notice. She wasn’t supposed to.
After that, she avoided him slightly.
Denki understood immediately.
It hurt. Like a knife twisting gently but constantly in his chest.
But he kept his jokes. Kept the ice cream, kept the chips.
Kept being the genie of comfort.
Even when it tore him apart from the inside out.
Days passed.
He insisted to himself, to her, to the world, that he was fine. That he didn’t feel anything anymore.
“See? Totally shallow,” he said one morning when she gave him a slightly worried glance. “I’m fine. Really. Don’t worry about me. My feelings? Gone. Finished. I have a new crush already. Totally… casual. Totally normal Nevermind what I said, 'kay?.”
She smiled.
And he smiled back.
All the while, the trench inside him yawned wider and deeper.
Gradually, she returned to being herself.
Comfortable around him. Laughing at his terrible puns. Leaning on him during walks. Tossing chips into his mouth.
And Denki soaked it all in.
Every laugh. Every smile.
Every little moment that made his chest ache so much it felt like it might split in two.
He didn’t say a word about the trench, the deep, relentless weight of his feelings.
He just let her live, laugh, and exist — blissfully unaware of how much he silently suffered for her happiness.
One night, after a marathon of snacks, bad movies, and endless memes in her dorm, he stretched dramatically.
“Alrighty! This local genius is getting sleepy. Gonna head back before I collapse in your floor,” he said, standing.
Y/N walked him to the door.
“Thanks for hanging out,” she said warmly.
Denki saluted with a goofy grin. “Welcome always, ma’am!”
He waved as he stepped into the hallway.
“Night, Y/N!”
“Goodnight, Denki.”
He walked a few steps.
Just a few.
And then…
His shoulders shook.
His steps faltered.
He bit his lip.
A soft, broken laugh escaped him.
You dumb blonde…” he whispered to himself, voice barely audible, as if the walls might pity him.
“You really don’t learn, do you?”
His hand came up to cover his mouth, but it couldn’t hide the way his lips quivered. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself not to fall apart here, in the empty corridor where only silence could witness him.
“You’re killing yourself, Denki,” he muttered with a hollow laugh that cracked mid-breath.
“Loving her like this… knowing she’ll never look back.”
His throat tightened.
His lungs stung.
But he forced himself to straighten up, even though the world felt heavier with each heartbeat.
He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie—quick, rough, as if he was angry at the tears.
Then he took a single step forward.
Then another.
Every step away from her door felt like walking against a current, like dragging himself through the trench he claimed was only a puddle.
And when he finally whispered, barely audible—
“You dumb blonde… just keep smiling. That’s all you’re good for anyway.”
End.
(Yohoooo!! I had suddenly an urge to just write about Denki. My first time writing about him in this account and he didn't even get a happy ending lol, I just realized how they are both blondes with katsuki and the dumb blonde just came up and I need to write it down lol).
Comment suggestion, which character do you want next!
You can also request a scenario, drabbel or headcannon( I'm running out of ideas lol).
He was the top student in your year—straight A’s, never missing a deadline, always prepared for tests. Teachers adored him, not just because he was smart, but because he had charisma. He could answer a complex math problem flawlessly and then crack a joke that had the entire class laughing
An academic achiever, the kind of student who always ranked at the top without even seeming to try. Well-liked by teachers and students alike. He made it look effortless, balancing his studies with his charm, making people laugh while still acing every test.
And you? You were his seatmate.
That meant being the one he turned to when he needed an extra pen or forgot a formula. The one who watched him scribble in his notebook—half equations, half absentminded doodles—while he somehow still absorbed the lecture. The one who listened to him complain about how “so-and-so just wasn’t the right person” while your own heart twisted painfully in your chest.
The two of you had been sitting next to each other since sophomore year. You were seatmates during freshmen year but you didn’t notice him till now. For the most part, you were fine with it. You weren’t a slacker yourself—you worked hard, studied late into the night, and aimed for high scores. But no matter how much effort you put in, Alex always seemed to be one step ahead.
He never rubbed it in, though. In fact, he was annoyingly kind. When you struggled with a subject, he’d lean over, pointing at your notes with that stupidly perfect smirk. “Need help, genius?”
And every time, you’d roll your eyes, shove his arm away, and mutter, “I’ve got it, Alex.” Even when you didn’t.
The worst part? You had a massive crush on him.
You hated it. Hated how your heart raced whenever he complimented your work. Hated how he leaned too close when explaining something, his voice soft and teasing. Hated how he never looked at you the way you looked at him.
Because Alex had eyes for everyone else.
You watched him fall for different people over the years. First, it was this older girl from Dance Club. Then, another girl in your class. Then, another older girl, a year older than you, that was simply quiet, and simple. Each time, he poured his heart into them. And each time, they left him behind.
And each time, he came back to you.
Not as someone he wanted. But as someone who would listen.
It was your role. The friend who stayed up with him on the phone when he was heartbroken. The one who helped him catch up on classwork when he was too distracted by love to focus. The one who held her tongue, even when it killed her inside.
Because Alex only saw you when he needed to.
—
During a random Wednesday.
You should’ve been used to this by now—Alex sitting next to you, sighing dramatically as he slumped over his desk. Another heartbreak. Another girl who didn’t love him the way he loved her.
“She said she ‘wasn’t ready for something serious,’” he muttered, staring blankly at his textbook. “I don’t get it. I thought things were going great.”
You tightened your grip on your pen.
You should have said something comforting. You should have played your role like always. Instead, something inside you snapped.
“You don’t get it?” Your voice came out sharper than you intended. “Maybe it’s because you throw yourself at people who don’t even care about you.”
Alex blinked, startled. “What?”
You turned to face him fully, heart pounding. “You keep chasing after people who barely know you, and when they leave, you come running back to me like I’m some kind of backup plan.”
His brows furrowed. “That’s not—”
“Isn’t it?” You let out a bitter laugh. “You never look at me, Alex. You never realize how much I—” You stopped yourself, breathing heavily.
He stared at you, wide-eyed. His mouth opened, then closed, like he didn’t know what to say.
“Forget it,” you muttered, standing up abruptly. “I’m done being your backburner.”
And with that, you walked out of the classroom, leaving him stunned in his seat.
Alex was restless after that.
For the first time, he couldn’t focus in class. His notes were a mess, his mind replaying your words over and over again.
You never look at me.
He hadn’t even realized how much he relied on you. How you were always there, always listening, always supporting him. And he had taken it for granted.
The next day, you barely spoke to him. And for the first time in years, he was the one chasing after you.
“(Y/N), wait—” He caught up to you after school, breathless. “Can we talk?”
You looked at him, arms crossed, eyes guarded. “About what?”
He hesitated. “About… what you said.”
You exhaled, shaking your head. “I shouldn’t have—”
“No.” He stepped closer. “You should have. And I should’ve listened sooner.”
Your eyes met, and for once, he wasn’t looking through you. He was looking at you.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you. I swear, I never meant to.”
You swallowed hard. “Then what do you mean, Alex”
A pause. Then, he took a deep breath and said the words you never thought you’d hear.
“I think I’ve been in love with you this whole time. I was just too stupid to see it.”
It wasn’t easy. Years of being second choice didn’t disappear overnight. But Alex proved he meant it—by showing up, by choosing you first for once.
And this time, when he leaned in to whisper something during class, it wasn’t about another girl.
It was about you.
“Hey, genius,” he murmured, smirking. “You free this Saturday? I owe you a proper first date.”
— ( 🪼 ) cause maybe you'll finally choose me after you've had more time
megan skiendiel x fem reader, angst, backburner!reader, swearing, comfort, doomed lesbian reader, toxic megan, wc [?], tags listed below
you met megan during the pandemic, she was definitely very different — during the time megan jumped from one relationship to another, you always told her it might hurt someone and it always did
yet, what you failed to realize is your growing infatuation with the girl — she quite literally been with you throughout every era of your life, but you knew that megan did not like you in that way, you were just her soulmate — platonically
until it happened — megan was wasted that night, you had just picked her up from the club — which by the way she didn't tell anyone about, she looked beautiful her eyes hazy and her makeup faded, you wished you could see this megan every day even if it meant just as a friend
"y/n..~, i love youu" megan slurred out — her eyes trained on you as you drove both of you back, your heart dropped god was it just because whe was drunk? or did she really mean it
"i love you too," you murmur back till she falls asleep in the passenger seat, you knew it'll be hard to escape now — to escape the feeling
the cycle started, megan was now with you everyday clinging to you much more which warmed your heart — yet why was it always when shes in between breakups?
megan would always run to you and tell you how better you treat her but when her ex calls her she folds and leaves you immediately, you never payed it any mind, all you wanted was her to be with you
you always knew you were never the first choice for the girl, but what hurt you is how obvious she made it, you settled for less and always got whats coming
it repeated for months, megan will only talk to you when she was in a cool off situation then the minute their good she'll leave you in the dust
"when are we gonna stop doing this?" you asked megan as she laid her head on your lap, you two were watching some movie long forgotten
"what do you mean?" megan asks, her tone was like she got caught or felt guilty nonetheless you knew she wasn't
"i feel stupid megan, I'll be here always but why can't you see me? ill do anything for you" you stammer your words as tears start to blur your eyes, "why do i feel like this, fuck" you mumble
yet as you start to feel like everything is going wrong megan holds your hands, kissing your cheeks softly, "i always see you y/n, i love you now" she says
"yeah and in a few weeks, you won't" you replied, "that's not true, you know that y/n" megan snorts her grip on your hands tightening
"i love you more than anyone" megan follows softening her voice, you knew you'd always fall for her schemes, and here you are falling for it again, "believe me"
you knew it's too late to turn back and tell the girl that you're tired of this—of being her backburner— but you couldn't lie, you never felt alive till you were her backburner
you stare at megan, taking your time to take in her features, her whisker dimples and her sweet smile, cause in a week or so she'll fade away
and you haven't learned your lesson, you still love the girl that hurts you more than anyone, but also knew you more than everyone
"are you still with me?" you ask timidly — megan replies softly "yes, love", "good" you follow
the endearing name melted your heart, an hour later you have long forgotten the conversation and pretended that you didn't care, didn't care that your not her first choice and will never be the first choice
maybe she'll finally choose you after she'd had more time
but for now, she's your first option — and maybe forever she will be the one who owns your heart
