#''tHEY just want you to think that'' NO SIR I ASSURE YOU I TOO HAVE OWNED TOXIC SHIT & IT'S SELF-DESTRUCTED ON ME & I WAS PISSED CUZ I HAD
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amitiel-truth · 2 days ago
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River Maiden Pt. 6
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Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5,
"Telemachus..." (Y/N) sighs into the sea, leaning out the window with a longing look in her eyes and a small pout, hands under her chin, missing her Prince.
Two guards stand behind her, who is just about done with her yearning.
"She's been longing for the Prince since he left." one of the Guards mutters, remembering how the two barely want to let go of each other, kissing too passionately to the point it unnerved The Prince's crew and (Y/N)'s Guards, before being forcibly pulled apart.
"If we didn't pull those two apart, I swear they were close to having sex then and there." the other Guard points out.
"I can hear you, Ioannis, Panagiotis. Oh, who am I kidding? We were about to have sex then and there." (Y/N) agreed, whining, burying her face in her arms, as the two Guards shared a tired look.
A storm had just passed, (Y/N) doesn't know why but it feels different, familiar.
Suddenly she heard yelling at the palace entrance, there she saw Antinous and the Suitors, antagonizing who seemed to be a Beggar.
"What are they up to now?." (Y/N) grimaces, before walking down the hall with the knights following her.
"You—dare to call me out, beggar? You who live on the scraps thrown to you by the mercy of others, who have never known the power of a seat at the king’s table, speak as though you are in any position to judge me? You think I take advantage of the royalty's hospitality? Ha. You are mistaken."
He steps closer, his voice low and venomous.
"I’ve earned my place at their side. The gods themselves would envy the privileges I enjoy. You? You’re nothing more than a shadow, a fleeting thought that the nobility might spare a coin or two, and that is the extent of your world. Do not mistake my invitation for weakness, beggar. It’s a courtesy you will never receive."
With an icy glance, Antinous leans in, voice barely a whisper.
"Keep your insults to yourself, or I will remind you what happens to those who speak above their station."
He turns sharply, leaving the beggar with nothing but the weight of his contempt hanging in the air.
"What's going on here?" a sharp voice cuts through Antinous arrogant claims, there stands a woman the Beggar never seen before, as the Suitors give way with two guards behind her.
Antinous steps forward, trying to maintain his composure, though his irritation is evident.
"Ah, it seems we have a new guest. I was merely handling a... misunderstanding, my lady. A beggar is attempting to sow discord with his wild accusations." He gestures toward the beggar dismissively, his voice carrying the weight of entitlement. "It’s nothing of concern, truly."
The woman’s eyes meet his with a sharpness that makes his words falter, her expression unreadable as she glances from Antinous to the Beggar. before (Y/N) walked up to the Beggar, a soft smile began to appear on her lips.
"Hello Sir, you seem tired and restless, you seem like you haven't had a good rest for the past 20 years or so, would you like a place to rest for a while, I assure you, you'll be provided with food and fresh clothes, think of it as compensation from our unruly guest, please take some rest." (Y/N) offered gently, surprising the Beggar.
The Beggar stares at her for a long moment, his face a mixture of disbelief and cautious hope. He hesitates, glancing at the guards behind her and then back at the crowd. But there is something in her gaze—something genuine—that softens his hardened exterior.
"Food… fresh clothes?" He repeats, a small laugh escaping him, though it’s laced with uncertainty. "For a beggar like me? A man who’s seen nothing but the gutters and shadows for more years than I can count?" He looks down at himself, his clothes ragged and dirt-streaked.
He bows his head slightly as if humbled by her offer. "But... perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to rest for a moment. A bed… food… I’ve long since forgotten what it feels like."
He nods slowly, accepting the offer, though his eyes flicker to Antinous one last time, a small but defiant smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he steps forward to follow her.
"Thank you, my lady," he murmurs softly, as though the words themselves are foreign to him. "I will gladly accept your generosity."
"Right this way, Sir." (Y/N) leads the way, with the guards following them behind, barely paying any mind to the Suitors's leering eyes
“Forgive me, lady… but I’ve wandered these streets for years. I’ve heard no word of a princess on Ithaca. No news, no whispers, not a single mention of one among the suitors. You carry yourself as though you’re of noble blood, yet none of the townsfolk have spoken of a princess." the Beggar asked in curiosity as they began to walk down the halls near the servant quarters.
"Oh, I'm no Princess, Sir. I'm the Prince's bethrode" (Y/N) clears up the confusion with a wave of both her hands.
"The Prince’s betrothed?" He repeats, voice laced with disbelief. His eyes flicker to the men, now understanding why they’re watching her with such intent. But it still doesn’t quite add up in his mind. "I’m new to Ithaca, so forgive me, but… I’ve heard nothing about any betrothal, let alone the Prince being promised to anyone."
His voice drops slightly, almost to himself as he continues, trying to make sense of what’s happening around him.
"These suitors, they’ve been here for ages. They talk about the Queen’s hand, the one they’re all fighting for. But no word about a Prince, no whispers of his betrothed, nothing at all. It’s like they’re all focused on the wrong prize."
"And I wish to keep it that way." (Y/N) commented, as they reached one of the unoccupied servant's room.
"This is your room for now, I'll make sure someone brings you food, clean water, and fresh clothes" (Y/N) opens the door for him with a smile.
"You say you wish to keep things quiet, but I wonder..." He turns to face her, leaning against the doorframe of the room. "Is there danger in revealing who you truly are? Or perhaps the suitors are only a small part of this, aren’t they? There’s something else, something you're not telling me."
He gives a small, wry smile before continuing, his voice lowering as if speaking to himself. "I don’t mean to pry, but it feels like there’s a storm brewing here, and I’ve just walked into the middle of it." (Y/N) simply stares at him with a smile, but her eyes seem different.
His eyes soften, his voice gentler now as he adds, "But I’ll take what you’ve offered—food, clean clothes, rest. I won’t question your kindness. For now."
"It'll only take a while, take as much rest as you want." (Y/N) stated as The Beggar softly closed the door, and she turned to leave to look for a servant.
As (Y/N) walks down the hallway, leaving the beggar alone in the room, Antinous appears at the end of the corridor, leaning casually against the stone wall. His eyes lock on her the moment she walks by, and he pushes himself off the wall with a smirk, stepping into her path.
"Well, well, if it isn’t the lady herself," Antinous says smoothly, his tone laced with mock admiration. He takes a look around the palace hall as if inspecting the surroundings, then gestures broadly with a sweep of his hand. "You’ve really turned this place into an inn, haven’t you?" He chuckles, clearly amused by the thought.
"Beds for everyone, meals on demand... What’s next? A 'no questions asked' policy?" His eyes twinkle with mischief, though there’s an edge to his words that suggests his distaste for what’s happening. His gaze flickers back to where the Beggar is resting in the room she’d just shown him.
(Y/N) simply scoff "If the palace were an Inn, you'd be our no. 1 customer, the problem is, you don't even bother to pay your bill." (Y/N) taunted, looking at him mockingly.
Antinous’s smile falters for a moment, his eyes flashing with irritation, but he quickly recovers, giving a low chuckle as he crosses his arms over his chest. His posture remains relaxed, though there's a noticeable edge to his voice now.
"Ah, a sharp one, aren’t we?" He gives her a sideways glance, clearly amused by her response, but his tone still holds that familiar arrogance. "I suppose I’d be a loyal customer if the service were worth my time." He pauses, his eyes lingering on her body as the guards cross their spears over her, making (Y/N) raise her hand as they back down.
"And what makes you think you deserve those kinds of services?" (Y/N) asks, tilting her head.
"Deserve?" He echoes her word with a mock thoughtfulness, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. "Well, I don’t believe in the concept of deserve as much as I believe in taking what I want. And I want what I see. It’s as simple as that, (Y/N). You’re not as untouchable as you seem."
"And I don’t need to explain myself to anyone—especially not to someone playing pretend in a palace like this." His words are laced with a sharp edge, his confidence unshaken despite the guards presence. "You might be the prince’s betrothed, but that doesn’t mean you’re above everyone else here. You still have your role to play, just like the rest of us." He pauses for a moment, his voice lowering with a hint of something darker, something more possessive.
"You know," he begins, stepping a little closer, his eyes scanning her with a new, pointed intensity, "the thing about being a betrothed is that you need someone strong by your side. Someone who can really protect you." His lips curl into a sly grin, clearly aware of the implications of his words. "Not some... boy pretending to be a man."
"Especially when you’re as... fragile as you are," he adds with a mocking edge, his voice turning colder. "I mean, look at you—caught in a palace full of men who don’t even see you for what you are. It must be so... lonely, being with someone like the Prince. You need someone who sees your worth, who can show you what real power feels like."
His lips curl into a slow, almost predatory grin as if savoring every word.
"I can give you that, (Y/N). A man like me, not afraid to take what’s mine."
(Y/N) looks at him blankly, a cold stare in her eyes, before laughing, an extremely taunting laugh, akin to someone who's not afraid to...send a message.
"You truly believed all that act?!" (Y/N) laughs, heaving, as the guards look at her confused.
"Oh, but I couldn't blame you, my dearly beloved was so protective of me that day and I wouldn't have it any other way, I just love being doted by him day and night." (Y/N) sent him a smirk with her hands on her cheek.
"Something you can never do~."
"Really?" He drawls, clearly attempting to mask the sting of her words with feigned amusement. "So you think this is some kind of... sweet little game?" He looks her up and down, his gaze sharp as he tries to regain some control of the conversation. "I’d be more careful with your little prince’s doting, you know. Protective, you say? Sounds more like someone’s trapped in a gilded cage."
"Sure, you can love being doted on. But you know what they say about people who need constant reassurance..." His voice lowers, a hint of condescension creeping in as he steps closer, his eyes glinting with a dangerous satisfaction. "It’s not about strength—it’s about needing to be needed. And from what I can tell, your prince is happy to play the part. But let’s be real here, (Y/N). He’ll never be able to give you what you really need."
He leans in slightly, lowering his voice to a near whisper, but his words are as sharp as ever.
"And that’s something I can give you. Strength that doesn’t cower behind softness. Power that doesn’t rely on foolish ideals."
Antinous stands a little taller, his smirk widening at the tension he’s created.
"So go ahead, keep playing this little game with him," he finishes with a mocking laugh of his own, "but don’t be surprised when you realize—he’s nothing compared to the kind of man who can truly show you what it means to have control."
"I don't need control, all I need is Telemachus. and besides, why would I ever replace a Prince, to a man who couldn't provide his own food and shelter? ~." (Y/N) smirked at him, before leaving him in the middle of the hall to collect himself.
Antinous stands frozen for a moment, his smirk faltering as the weight of her words sinks in. He watches her walk away, and for a brief second, his usually unshakable confidence cracks. "Telemachus." The name lingers in the air like a bitter taste, and it’s clear that her declaration has hit him harder than he expected.
He stands there, his jaw tightening, fists clenched at his sides as he watches her retreat, a surge of frustration rising in his chest. He opens his mouth as if to say something—anything—but the words don't come. Instead, he stands in the middle of the hallway, surrounded by the heavy silence, trying to mask the feeling of being dismissed.
His eyes narrow as he watches her back, the smirk on his face replaced by something darker. The mention of Telemachus cuts deeper than he’d like to admit, and he realizes, with some bitterness, that (Y/N) isn't playing by the same rules he’s used to.
With a slow, deliberate exhale, Antinous turns away, his pride bruised, but the fire in his eyes burns just as brightly as before. As much as he wants to dismiss her as another game, a part of him knows this won’t be the last time their paths cross. And next time, he’ll be ready.
For now, though, he retreats to gather his thoughts, the tension of their exchange lingering in the air, his mind racing with all the ways he plans to make his mark.
"Mother, is it truly time?" (Y/N) asked, looking at Penelope in worry, as she held her husband's old bow.
"...I don't think I have any other choice, My dear," Penelope answered with tired weary eyes, as they walked out of the Queen's Quarters with the guards following them from protecting its doors, (Y/N) looking at her solemnly, taking her hand to give the Queen some comfort.
As they reached the Throne Room, The Suitors' chatter died down, as (Y/N) let go of his hand to let Queen Penelope present the bow, her challenge.
"This is the bow of Odysseus, King of Ithaca." Queen Penelope presented it, licking her lips, as she felt her mouth dry to the next words she was about to speak.
"The man who strings it and shoots an arrow, cleanly, through all 12 axes, shall take his place." Queen Penelope presented her challenge, as she placed the bow on a stone pedestal, for anyone who wants to try and complete her challenge.
The Suitors murmur among themselves, some impressed by the challenge while others scoff at it. After a moment of whispers and mutterings, each of the Suitors steps forth to try and string the bow. However, each one of them fails miserably, the bow remaining taut and unyielding in their hands.
As the Suitors fails the challenge, (Y/N) moves to Queen Penelope's side, taking her hand in a show of support. The Queen gives her a small, appreciative smile, touched by the gesture. The Hall is filled with the sounds of the Suitors mumbling and grumbling amongst themselves.
Nightfall came, many had tried but still unstrung the bow, as Queen Penelope and (Y/N) left for Queen Penelope's room.
"Are you sure you'll be alright alone, Mother?" (Y/N) asked in worry after escorting her with the guards.
"I'll be fine, Dear, get some rest as well, It's been a long day." Penelope sent her off with a caress on her cheek, before closing the door, but the three of them could hear her soft sobs, but none of them decided to comment on it.
"Let's go." (Y/N) softly tells her guards, as they begin descending the stairs, as (Y/N) takes the lead, Ioannis notices she's taking the wrong path.
"Lady (Y/N), this isn't the way to your room."
"Yes, yes. I know, I just want to check on them, It's quite hilarious to watch them fail." (Y/N) points out with a teasing smile, as all the guards could do is share a look.
as they reached the throne room, (Y/N) ordered them to wait by the door while she sneaked in to watch.
... a few minutes later, she slipped out of the door quickly, shaken.
"Lady (Y/N), What happ-"
"Keep our voices down, please." (Y/N) requested, calming herself down.
"Go to the Queen's Bedroom and guard the door right now and don't let anyone inside, I'll be there shortly, quickly!." (Y/N) orders as she runs off the opposite way from the guards.
The Guards stand by the Queen Room, unsure for what purpose, as they hear footsteps on the spiral stairs, they point their spears at the would-be intruder, before getting off their guard as they see (Y/N) on sight.
"Lady (Y/N), what's going on?" Panagiotis asked, confused while (Y/N) watched her breath.
"The Suitors, have grown impatient, they're planning to ransack the palace for all it's worth and force Penelope to choose by all means necessary." (Y/N) explains, panting, shocking the guards.
"I ask you both, are you willing to protect your Queen and me, from 108 hungry men?." (Y/N) asked, looking at them seriously, without a second thought, Ioannis pulled out a small dagger from his strap, giving the handle to her.
"Get inside." Ioannis tells her, while Panagiotis opens the door for her.
"Thank you, thank you both of you." (Y/N) Thank them both, before taking the dagger, rushing into Penelope's room, and began blocking the door.
"(Y/N), dear, what's going on?" Penelope asked, sitting up from her bed.
"The Suitors, they've grown impatient." (Y/N) explains, blocking the door as best she could.
"They've formed a takeover, they're going to ambush Telemachus at his return by the pier, they plan on forcing themselves on us, Mother." (Y/N) reveals, tears building up in her eyes.
Penelope’s eyes widened in shock, her heart sinking as she tried to process the gravity of (Y/N)'s words. She could hear the fear in her voice and immediately moved to comfort her.
"How... how do you know this, my dear?" Penelope asked, her voice trembling but steady, trying to keep calm for both of them.
(Y/N) wiped her eyes, taking a deep breath as she stood firm in front of the door, protecting her. "I overheard them, planning it out. They're going to strike before Telemachus can even reach the pier. They know he's the only one who can stop them."
Penelope nodded slowly, her thoughts racing. She had been through so much, but this—this was a new level of danger. She stood, moving toward (Y/N) with a quiet resolve.
"We must think, quickly. We cannot allow them to succeed," Penelope said, her voice hardening with determination. "If we have to, we will fight back. We won't let them take us."
"We only have two guards outside, but they won't be able to hold off 108 men, we also didn't have time to run away, the moment they formed the plan, they began spreading out." (Y/N) panted, leaning onto Penelope's arm.
"I would have thought you'd go after Telemachus, you must have the power for it." Penelope commented, rubbing her back.
"Every fiber of my being is begging to go to him, to warm him, but I know he can handle himself, and he would have wanted me to protect you, Mother." (Y/N) replied, a teary smile on her lips as Penelope appreciated her choice.
"Besides, I've already taken of them."
A group of Suitors began their plan to ambush Telemachus by the pier while laughing along the way like a pack of hyenas.
"Three of you! there! the rest form a formation, keep yourself hidden to not scare him off." their makeshift leader orders, making the rest of them grumble but follow, but their plans are all futile, as an unnatural wave washes over them, falling on all of them, but this wave is different, it doesn't let go of them, it deliberately pulled them into the water, into the sea, and finally, the depths of the ocean, where they are never heard off ever again.
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sunniques · 13 days ago
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— 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 !
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➺ PAIRING: choi seungcheol x female reader
➺ GENRE: stepdad au, smut
➺ SUMMARY: your stepdad shows you how blissful life would be if it was just you and him.
➺ CW/TW: stepcest, infidelity, age gap, reader can be carried by cheol, mentions of drugging, daddy kink, spanking, cockwarming, fingering, oral sex (f), unprotected sex, mirror sex, having sex while someone else is in the same room, creampies, squirting
➺ WC: 6.5k
NOTE: PLF MASTERLIST. don’t like, don’t read. thank you to my oomf @wonustars for beta reading <3
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Seungcheol is conscious of the fact that he’s been acting out of character ever since his wife returned from visiting her parents. Maybe he’s being too obvious about no longer wanting to stay married, but he doesn’t care. Not when making you happy is the greatest joy in his life.
“Cheolie,” you say sweetly as you gently tug on his hand to get his attention. “Look at this one! It’ll look so good on you!”
You’re giddily pointing at one of the many necklaces on display. It’s exactly the type of jewelry he likes to wear, and his heart tightens with affection at the fact that you know that. Unlike his wife.
“Sir, box this necklace up for me please,” he says to the employee attending you two without looking away from your smiling face.
“The price—”
“It’s fine,” Seungcheol waves him off without any hesitation. “I’ll pay whatever price.”
Even the man blushes when Seungcheol brings your intertwined hands to his lips to place a sweet kiss on the back of your hand. His love for you is so clear, and he thinks it’s extremely sweet that your boyfriend(?) bought every single piece of jewelry you said will look good on him without any hesitation.
“What about you, sweetheart?” Seungcheol says as he tugs you closer. “Do you want anything else?”
You tilt your head with a thoughtful hum. The cute bracelet and matching rings were enough for you, but there is something else you want. Something that only Seungcheol could get you and would mean more to you than the things you picked out.
“Will you choose something for me?”
Seungcheol’s heart stutters at the way you blink up at him, eyes shining with affection and anticipation. There’s no way he could ever say no to you, and the more he thinks about it, the more he likes the idea of you going around wearing something he chose for you. So he pulls you to the opposite end of the counter where the more expensive items are at.
After you’re done, Seungcheol savors the walk to the car. Your hand in his feels so right. It’s almost like his hand was made to fit with yours. Even on the drive home, Seungcheol doesn’t let go of your hand. He’s not ready to yet. Knowing that he’ll have to let you go and act like you didn’t spend the day together is getting harder for him. Having to hide everything he feels for you is bothering him more and more as the days go on.
“We’re home!” You call loudly as you walk into the large foyer.
“You’re back!”
Your mom rises from the couch when you step into the living room. Immediately, she goes to hug your stepdad. You stifle a laugh when Seungcheol obviously dodges her kiss and it lands on his cheek instead. Your mom frowns but doesn’t say anything. Instead she focuses on all the shopping bags in her husband’s hands.
“What’s all this?” She glances up at her husband before looking back at you. “Did you ask Seungcheol to take you shopping?”
“He offered,” you say casually, trying not to sound smug. “Since we’re spending next week at the villa.”
Your mom sighs and looks at her husband pointedly. “You didn’t need to buy her so many things.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind.” Seungcheol says sincerely. “It’s the first time we’re going away together as a family, so I wanted to spoil her a little.”
Your mom frowns, but doesn’t argue. “Fine, but Y/N, at least help your stepdad with the bags!”
Seungcheol waves his wife off, assuring her once again that it’s no problem. You shrug insouciantly when your move gives you an irritated look. It’s not your fault her husband’s love language is acts of service (not that she would know). Instead of lingering downstairs so she can nag you, you follow your stepdad upstairs.
A warm feeling tugs on your chest when you see him set down all the bags beside your bed. You wonder what it would would be like to live every day like this—a life where it’s just you and him. The fleeting thought pushes you to go and hug him from behind.
Seungcheol smiles when you lean your head against him and tighten your arms around his waist.
“Thank you for my gifts, Cheolie.”
The words are spoken sincerely and with no trace of lust. Only with pure, unadulterated affection. It makes him smile wider. “You’re welcome, baby.”
You two stay like that for a while until your mom’s voice calls for her husband. A petulant frown takes over your face as you reluctantly step away from Seungcheol. It’s times like these where you wonder how much longer you can keep doing this. Sharing him wasn’t (that much of) an issue for you before, but things shifted drastically after the weekend you two spent alone. Now, Seungcheol feels more like yours than he ever has.
What you don’t realize is that your stepdad feels the same way, only his feelings are ten times more intense than your own.
That night, Seungcheol lays in bed and goes over his plan to make sure his wife doesn’t get in the way next week. He plans to have fun with you and only you. It’s the perfect opportunity to show you what a life with him will be like. By the end of the week, he knows you’ll want nothing more than to start a life where it’s just the two of you.
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“Mom, it’s not a real vacation if you work the entire time,” you say with a sigh.
As usual your mom waves you off with a disinterested hum. She types away on her computer, only pausing to take a sip of her coffee. “I just need to answer a few emails.”
“You said that an hour ago.”
Even though it’s such a nice day out, your mom refuses to go anywhere. The most she’s willing to do is sit out on the terrace and work. It makes you wonder why she suggested this vacation in the first place.
“Why don’t you go keep Seungcheol company?” Your mom suggests without looking up. “He’s inside watching a movie.”
You sigh again and head to the living room where your stepdad is. Licking your lips, you go over and join him on the couch. Seungcheol smiles warmly when you sit down next to him. He wraps a strong arm around your waist to pull you closer. His hand slowly trails up until his fingers are teasing your nipple. The thin sundress you’re wearing makes it easy for him to get it to pebble.
“You look so cute, princess,” Seungcheol says as he roughly squeezes your tit. “Did you wear my favorite dress on purpose?”
The devious smirk you give him makes him groan quietly. He yanks up the hem of your dress, exposing your plush thighs and bare pussy to the cool air. Seungcheol licks his lips. “Fuck. You just wanted me to see your cute little cunt, didn’t you, brat?”
“Yes,” you say as your body burns with need.
You spread your thighs, bearing your dampening cunt completely for your stepdad. Seungcheol goes to cup your pussy, thumb slowly rubbing dizzying circles on your clit.
“You’re already so wet,” he groans in delight. “What a little slut.”
You mewl as he slowly sinks two fingers into your clenching hole. A loud whine gets stuck in your throat as Seungcheol’s fingers venture deeper into your needy cunt, eagerly seeking out the spongy spot that always reduces you to a moaning mess. You rock your hips slightly as you turn your head to bury it in his broad shoulder.
“Daddy,” you whimper as his fingers flex deeper into your soaked pussy. “Make me cum.”
“Nasty girl,” Seungcheol’s smirk is wolfish as he sinks a third finger into you. “You that desperate for me?”
Your cunt throbs and releases more juices as his long fingers scissor you open. Arousal pools in the pit of your stomach as your tight walls flutter around his fingers. They slowly pick up the pace, reaching the spot that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.
“Yes—fuck. It feels so good, daddy,” you whine brokenly as your tight walls suck on his fingers.
“You’re going to get us caught if you keep being loud, baby,” Seungcheol groans as his thick cock strains against his sweatpants.
You moan softly when his fingers slide deeper inside you to press against the sensitive spot that always makes your brain shut down. He laughs in his throat when your eyes shut and your mouth drops open in a silent moan. The sound of your arousal gets louder with every passing moment. Seungcheol’s eyes are dark as he grabs your leg to hook it over his own to spread your pussy wider for him.
“God, just look at how wet you are,” Seungcheol uses his free hand to grab the back of your head and force you to watch as he plays with your squelching pussy. “Dripping all over my nice couch.”
“Can’t help it, daddy,” you whimper as you watch his long fingers penetrate your tight hole. “I’ll lick it clean later.”
Seungcheol lets out a low groan, cock throbbing at your filthy words. You’re both entranced with how your cream is coating his long fingers, noticeably creating a ring where his wedding band is. You can’t deny that you love how your juices stain the metal. It’s like you’re claiming his as yours.
“Nasty little slut,” Seungcheol growls as he works your pussy open. “You like daddy fingerfucking you while your mom is on the terrace?”
You close your eyes and nod dizzily.
“Keep your eyes open, brat.”
The demand is followed by a harsh slap on your cunt. Your loud cry mixes in with the lewd sounding smack. Seungcheol quickly stifles your cry by smashing his lips onto yours. He swallows all your moans and mewls as he forces his tongue into your mouth. The way his tongue massages yours is enough to push you over the edge.
Your pussy clamps down on his fingers as your orgasm rips through you. Seungcheol groans into your mouth as you gush all over his fingers. Your soft cry sounds so hot, even if it is stifled by his mouth.
“That’s it, princess,” he murmurs adoringly as you grind into his hand. “Fuck. It’s so easy to make you cum.”
You whine when he slowly pulls his fingers out of your soaking cunt. Your pussy flutters when you see sticky strings of arousal clinging to his long digits. Seungcheol gives you a filthy smirk before he sucks on his fingers, groaning lowly at your sweet taste.
“Can I have your cock now, daddy?” You bat your eyelashes in the way that always gets him to do what you want.
Seungcheol immediately pulls down his sweats enough to let his cock spring free. It pulses with need as he goes to lay you on your back. Your dress is pulled higher to completely expose your messy pussy.
“Be good for me, baby,” your stepdad hisses as he rubs his leaking tip between your folds.
Your cunt clenches around nothing as Seungcheol collects your arousal on his cock. He smirks down at you before slowly easing into you. His groan makes you clamp down on him.
“Goddamn,” Seungcheol groans when he finally bottoms out. “Pretty little pussy’s always so fucking tight.”
Impatient as ever, you start to grind up into him, using his cock like a toy. Seungcheol’s eyes gleam with fondness as your juices smear all over his pelvis. He starts to move, hips grinding into yours. You moan quietly as his thick cock stretches and fills your needy hole.
“Harder, daddy,” you whine like the brat you are. “Make me cum all over your big cock.”
Seungcheol growls quietly. He loves how nasty and needy you get whenever your mom’s around. As always, he can’t deny you or himself that pleasure. Your stepdad starts fucking into you roughly, making your pretty tits bounce in your dress. He roughly yanks down the material, loving how hard your nipples are. He swoops down to suck and bite on them, hips never stopping as he fucks his thick cock into your aching cunt.
“Daddy!” You mewl, arching your back and forcing your tit deeper into his mouth.
You love how he’s fucking you like some mindless animal. His cock is drenched with your cream, completely coated to the hilt. You cry out when his leaking tip hits your sweet spot, repeatedly ramming it over and over again.
Seungcheol nips at your nipple before moving to give the other one the same attention. His heavy balls slap your ass with every thrust, and he can feel his orgasm quickly approaching.
The sound of the glass doors sliding open startles you, but not enough to tell your stepdad to stop. Seungcheol slows his movements, but makes no move to slip out of your pussy. He releases your nipple with a too loud pop and slowly straightens out. You cover your mouth with your hands, pussy clenching as you hear footsteps fade into the direction of the kitchen.
“Honey, where’s Y/N?”
Seungcheol eyes flicker down to you, cock throbbing at the sight of you all fucked out underneath him. All his wife has to do is walk in his direction to see her lovely daughter stuffed full of cock with her pretty tits out. She’d see the remnants of his spit on them and know he was licking and sucking on them like he’d never done to hers.
“She went upstairs. I think the movie bored her.”
Luckily, only your stepdad’s head and shoulders are visible from over the back of the couch. You’re completely hidden, which is why Seungcheol slowly starts to drive his girthy cock into you. You’re sure that if the movie wasn’t playing, your mom would be able to hear the lewd squelching coming from your pussy.
“Okay. Well, I’m going to have to jump on a call in a bit,” your mom says dismissively, clearly not too interested in your whereabouts. If only she knew. “I’ll be out on the terrace for a while.”
“Fine,” Seungcheol’s voice is a bit strained as his wife comes out of the kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee. “Just make sure you tell your boss that this is the only call you’ll take this week.”
His hips have stopped moving by now, but the fact that you can tell your mom has come closer makes you clench down on his cock. You stifle a whine as you carefully grind on his dick. Your clit bumps against his pelvis, making your eyes cross from pleasure.
“You know I can’t do that,” your mom sounds disapproving as she looks down at her phone. “The company needs me. No one knows more about this proposal than I do.”
Using the distraction on her phone to his advantage, Seungcheol grabs your hips and pulls you down on him as he gently thrusts forward. The fat tip of his cock slams right into your sweet spot, and you can barely hold back your moan. Light tremors rake through your body as your stepdad keeps fucking you while his wife in none the wiser. His hands slip down to your thighs before he presses them into the couch to keep you spread for him.
Fuck. It’s such a filthy sight that he almost wishes his wife would see it. That way she would see for herself how much better you look taking his cock.
“Okay. Just let me know when you’re done working. Y/N wanted to go to the beach later.”
His heated gaze stays on you as his wife mumbles a dismissive agreement. Seungcheol’s cock throbs as his wife walks back out to the terrace, sliding the door closed with an audible click.
Seungcheol lets out a dark laugh and immediately goes back to pounding your hot cunt. He grabs your hips and pulls you to meet his rough thrusts. Loud squelching and skin slapping fills the large room as your ravenous stepdad uses you to get closer to his orgasm.
“God, baby. You get so tight when you think we might get caught.” Seungcheol groans loudly, knowing his wife has put in her earphones by now to focus on her meeting. “You like the idea of your mom catching you fucking her husband?”
You nod through an impetuous moan. “Yes—fuck. I wonder what she’d do if she saw how much better you like my little pussy.”
“Filthy little brat,” Seungcheol groans fondly as he keeps pumping his leaking dick into you.
“You like it too, daddy,” you moan as his frantic movements grow rougher. “Just knowing your wife might walk in and see you stretching me out on your big cock turns you on.”
Seungcheol moans, unable to deny it. He starts to rub fast circles on your raw clit, eager to get you to cum on his cock. He gives you a filthy smirk when you tighten around him again.
“Are you gonna cum for me, baby? Cream all over my cock so I can fill you up like you want?”
Your stepdad fucks into you harder when you moan out a desperate yes. He rams his cock deeper into your pussy until you’re nothing but a moaning mess. Filthy noises mix in with the forgotten movie as Seungcheol’s thick cock spears into your messy hole. His fingers play with your sensitive bud, quickly driving you over the edge from how good it all feels.
You wrap your legs around him, pussy convulsing as you cream all over his dick.
Seungcheol groans out your name, sloppily fucking you through your orgasm. Your pulsing walls grip his cock tightly, effectively milking him for his hot cum. He shoots thick ropes into your pussy, filling you to the brim. You happily take it all, loving how it drips down his cock with every needy grind. He slaps your pussy playfully before capturing your lips in another nasty kiss.
You gently nip at his soft lips, not wanting to separate from him yet. “Let’s go upstairs, daddy. We need to clean up before lunch.”
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Sometimes, you wonder if your mom cares about you at all. In the morning, you wake up to a text saying she’s cutting the vacation short because an emergency came up at work. You almost think you’re still dreaming until you rub the sleep out of your eyes and read the text again.
It’s not disappointing, not exactly. From the start you knew she didn’t actually want to go on vacation. It was just another attempt to save her failing marriage, but as usual, she put her career first.
You roll out of bed and go to the master bedroom. Right away, you can tell your mom is gone. All her stuff is gone, and you wonder just how early she got up to catch a flight back home. You pout when you notice that Seungcheol also isn’t in the room. Since your mom is gone now, you had planned to wake him up with some head. Just as you contemplate your next move, you hear noise coming from downstairs.
One thing you never thought you’d see is Seungcheol standing at the stove, shirtless and only wearing pajama bottoms. He’s cooking something that smells delicious, and the fact that he looks so hot doing it just makes it even better.
You quietly walk up behind him and wrap your arms around his chiseled torso. “Morning, Cheolie.”
“Morning, baby.” He says fondly.
Your stepdad shudders when you place a soft kiss between his shoulder blades. He basks in your touch, glad that you don’t immediately pull away from him now that you’re alone.
“I’m glad she’s gone,” you say after a while. “That way I can have you all to myself.”
Seungcheol knows he’s blushing, and he’s glad that you can’t see it. His heart pounds as he hums in agreement.
“We can do whatever you want, baby. Just tell me and I’ll make it happen.”
You grin against his back, already planning the perfect day with him in your head.
After you two have breakfast, you and Seungcheol head to the beach. It’s a beautiful day out, and you love that you can openly hold his hand and be affectionate with him to your heart’s content.
“Let me put sunscreen on you, princess.”
You lay on your stomach, humming in delight when your stepdad’s big hands smooth down your back and legs. He really works the cream into your skin, making sure no place goes untouched. Once he’s done, you grin at him.
“Your turn.”
Seungcheol feels like he’s in heaven. He’s lying on his back with you sitting on his lap in the tiniest bikini he’s ever seen. You’re rubbing sunscreen all over his chest and torso, cooing about how hot he is every thirty seconds. He sees other men looking at him with pure envy, and that just makes the experience all the more sweeter. Because he belongs to you, and it’s clear that everyone on the beach knows it.
You spend most of the day at the beach, building sandcastles and playing in the pretty ocean. Being with Seungcheol makes you feel alive and at ease. He’s so easy to be with, and you can tell he feels the same way.
When you return to the villa, Seungcheol tells you to shower and get ready because he’s taking you to one of his favorite restaurants. The way you run upstairs while squealing with excitement is so endearing to him. He yells a reminder to use the bathroom in the master bedroom since that’s where you’ll be staying for the rest of the week. He laughs heartedly when you respond with yes, daddy!
Seungcheol has never felt more lucky than he does now with you on his arm. You cling to him as you’re escorted to a secluded table with a fantastic view of the city. Seungcheol pulls out your chair, eyes trained on the glittering necklace around your neck.
“You keep staring,” you say teasingly as your stepdad goes to sit down.
“It’s because you look incredible in diamonds,” he says honestly. “I’ll have to get you matching earrings next time.”
Your stomach flips in excitement. Not because he’s talking about getting you something incredibly expensive to go along with the diamond necklace he bought you, but because he says it like you deserve nothing less.
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you say, eying the necklace you picked out for him.
“My girl has incredible taste.” He says with a flirtatious smile.
The words make your heart stutter. It’s the first time he’s said something like that without being in a sexual setting. You don’t hate it. Actually, you like it a little too much.
“What kind of wine do you prefer?” Seungcheol wonders as he looks through the menu.
“Choose for me,” you say. “I want to know what you prefer.”
Seungcheol tries to contain his smile as he tells the waiter to bring a bottle of red wine. It’s hard not to feel like a giddy schoolboy when you make it clear the relationship you two have is not just one sided. His heart soars every time you demand to know more about him.
The rest of the night feels like a beautiful dream, one that neither of you want to wake up from.
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“Let’s go upstairs. I want to fuck you properly.”
You laugh excitedly as Seungcheol leads you up the stairs. He’s playfully biting at your neck and letting his hands roam your body. It feels so blissful that you barely register that you’ve made it to the master bedroom.
Seungcheol spanks your ass before he’s desperately yanking your dress off. You go to take off the expensive necklace you’re wearing, but he stops you.
“Leave it on.”
You feel arousal drip down your thighs as you go to lay on the bed. Seungcheol quickly takes off his own clothes. His eyes are locked on your body, staring at you like you’re his prey. You’re no better. Like always, you can’t take your eyes off of his girthy cock.
“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart,” Seungcheol demands as he gets on the bed. “I need to taste you.”
You do as he says, eager to feel his tongue slipping through your folds. A loud moan cuts through the air when he buries his face in your pussy. He places open mouth kisses on your lips and clit, eager to make you fall apart on his tongue.
“Fuck, daddy,” you moan at you use your hands to hold yourself open for him.
Seungcheol fucks his tongue into your fluttering hole, moaning at the taste of you. He quickly loses himself in your taste, slurping up every bit of your arousal. You clench down on his tongue as he messily licks back up to your clit. You writhe underneath him as he sucks your pulsing bud into his hot mouth. Eagerly, you grind your clenching cunt into his mouth.
“So fucking sweet,” your stepdad groans as he slowly pulls back.
You cry out when he gives your pussy a harsh slap. The wet smack sends tingles up your spine. Your pussy is pulsing as you stare at Seungcheol with hungry eyes. His lower face is completely covered with your juices, and he’s never looked hotter. You moan when he slaps your cunt again. It hurts so good, and you arch into it when he keeps doing it. Each slap is harder than the last, and by the time he’s done, you’re gushing all over the sheets.
“Roll over for me, baby.”
You do as he says, pussy clenching in eagerness. He’s always so rough when he takes you from the back. Seungcheol’s eyes are dark as he yanks you toward him. Just when you think he’s going to tease you, he sinks his cock into your pussy.
“Take daddy’s cock like a good little princess.”
You let out a wanton cry when he harshly bottoms out. His leaking tip slams right into your g-spot and forces more juices out of your hot cunt. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you deepen your arch.
“Fuck me, daddy!”
Seungcheol growls in his throat before he pulls his cock out of you halfway only to slam it back into your clenching heat. Arousal gushes from your pussy at his rough movements. You can feel your juices dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. A quiet whine escapes you when Seungcheol grabs your hair and pulls your head up to make you look into the mirror across from the massive bed. The sight is so filthy and hot that you start to lose yourself in the pleasure of it all.
Your stepdad starts pounding into your tiny pussy, fat cock stretching you out just how you like. As your eyes roll to the back of your head, your hips start to move on their own accord, rocking back on him to get his dick deeper inside of you.
“That’s it, baby,” Seungcheol groans, drilling his cock deeper into your squelching pussy. “Work that hot little cunt on your stepdad’s cock. Fuck. Get it nice and wet for me.”
You move your hips more eagerly, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Seungcheol hammers into your sweet spot. He’s relentless, fucking you like you’re nothing more than a hole.
“Keep your eyes on me, brat,” Seungcheol commands as he gives your ass a hard smack.
He meets your eyes in the mirror and smirks. God is he fixated on you and the way you look while he’s splitting you open. Your diamond necklace dangles with every rough thrust, and it makes his cock twitch and throb. As always, Seungcheol was right. You look so lovely getting fucked in the diamond necklace he picked out for you.
“Da-Daddy,” you gasp out.
“So fucking tight,” Seungcheol groans, fucking into you harder than before.
The sound of skin slapping together gets louder, and so do your filthy moans. You watch Seungcheol in the mirror, loving how hot he looks while he destroys your pussy.
“You’re so fucking hot, daddy,” you whine as you spread your legs.
Seungcheol hums approvingly and starts snapping his hips into you. He slaps your bouncing ass, pistoning his big cock in and out of your dripping cunt like a madman. You’re completely gone, moaning and mewling like it’s all you know how to do. It makes him go harder, fucking into your tight little pussy with no mercy.
“Tomorrow, we’ll do this outside.” Seungcheol decides, cock throbbing at the idea. “I’ll fuck you out in the open like the nasty slut you are.”
You slip your fingers down to rub your pudgy clit, loving his filthy words and how much they turn you on. Seungcheol lets out a dark laugh when he notices.
“Like that? Yeah, I bet you do,” he groans, taking his eyes off the mirror to watch your pretty ass recoil against his pelvis. “Dirty little brat. I’m gonna cream your little pussy until you can’t take anymore.”
“Fuck, daddy,” you mewl. “You’re so dirty.”
Seungcheol laughs as he drills his cock deeper into your cunt. His heavy balls slap your clit and drive you closer to your climax. All your stepdad has to do is give you one last thrust to push you over the edge. You yell out his name as your pussy gushes with your orgasm. Your stepdad groans loudly at the feeling of your tight pussy squeezing his dick.
“That’s it, princess. Cream all over daddy’s cock like a good girl.”
You bounce back on him, eager to get him to stuff you full. “Cum inside me, daddy!”
Seungcheol moans your name and fucks his cock deep into your cunt before releasing his hot load inside you. Your pulsing walls milk him for everything he’s worth. Thick ropes of cum flood your little pussy until it’s leaking onto the soiled sheets. Slowly, Seungcheol pulls his cock out of your messy pussy. He loves the sight of his cum dripping out of your pretty cunt. It makes him ravenous all over again.
“Get up.”
You lick your lips and follow your stepdad as he gets off the bed. A squeal escapes you when he presses you against the wall. Seungcheol kisses you hotly as he pulls you closer to him. You barely notice as he goes to pick you up. He effortlessly throws your legs over his bulky arms before he teasingly drags his dripping cock over your messy cunt.
“Guide me in, baby,” he says as he presses wet kisses on your jaw. “Let daddy slide into your tight pussy.”
You whimper, pussy dripping with revived arousal. Lust clouds your mind as you go to do as he says. With one hand on his broad shoulder, you grab his cum covered cock and guide it to your soaking entrance. His bulbous tip nudges your pussy before he sinks you down on his throbbing cock. His hips flex as he slowly starts to fuck up into your little cunt.
“God, baby. Your cute little pussy just keeps sucking me in.”
Your nails dig into his shoulders as he fucks his cock against your sweet spot. Lewd squelching fills the room as your stepdad bounces you on his cock. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as his big dick stretches you out for the second time. The slight pain from his thrusts make you clamp down on his cock tighter.
“Daddy,” you mewl almost pitifully. “You’re gonna break my pussy.”
Seungcheol laughs. Not only because you sound so fucked out, but because you rock your pussy down to meet his unhurried thrusts. You’re addicted to his cock, and he loves that you can never hide it.
“You can take it, sweetheart,” he coos, eyes fixed on the way your bouncing tits make the diamond necklace look even prettier.
“Fuck,” you moan when he starts to fuck you harder. You gasp and moan when his hands go to grab your ass.
“Pretty little brat,” Seungcheol groans as he kneads and squeezes your ass. “You always look so pretty when you’re stuffed full of cock.”
He keeps thrusting into you until you’re cumming all over his cock. It makes him laugh in delight. “That’s it. Cream all over daddy’s cock. Fuck. Give me another one, baby. I know you can.”
You cry out as Seungcheol keeps bouncing you on his cock while he fucks up into your aching pussy. You’re drunk with pleasure, not bothering to stifle your wanton moans as you get split open with every rough thrust. The room reeks with the smell of sex, and it makes your pussy throb in delight. It always ends up this way, and you love that there’s always evidence left behind of how badly your stepdad is addicted to your tight little pussy.
“Cum again for me, sweetheart. Give daddy what he wants.”
Seungcheol smirks when you let out a fucked out whine. “What? Did daddy already fuck you dumb?”
Your pussy tightens and drips with more juices as you nod stupidly. Once again, your stepdad laughs meanly like he couldn’t be more proud that you can’t even respond to him properly.
Seungcheol squeezes your ass before he walks you back to the bed. You clamp down on him with every step he takes. A petulant whine of protest gets stuck in your throat when he pulls out of you with an obscenely wet sound. He tosses you on the bed before joining you.
“Dumb little brat. You can't stand not being stuffed full of your stepdad’s cock, huh?”
You give him a smirk, a little more lucid now. “Just like you can’t stand not having your cock buried in your stepdaughter’s pussy.”
Seungcheol places your legs over his shoulders and forces his cock back into your needy cunt. You cry out in pleasure, happy that your goading worked.
“You’re right. That’s why I’m gonna have to stay buried in your hot little cunt all week. Keep my little brat nice and full.”
You moan and grind your hips to meet his ravenous thrusts. “Fuck yes. Please, daddy. That’s all I want.”
Something about you begging so prettily and nicely always gets Seungcheol off. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m gonna creampie this sweet little hole the entire time we’re here. That’s what a good stepdad does, right?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” You cry, feeling another orgasm creeping up on you. “You’ll be a good stepdad and stuff my needy pussy, right, Cheolie?”
Something inside him switches when you use that endearing nickname. You’ve never used it during sex, but he doesn’t hate it. He absolutely loves it because it feels so much more intimate.
“Yes, baby,” his deep voice makes your toes curl. “I’m gonna give you a nice hot load. As many times as you want.”
Your eyes roll to the back of your head at his filthy promise. His cock throbs and twitches inside you as he moves one of his hands to rub and pinch at your puffy clit.
“Cum for me, princess. Need your tight little pussy to milk me again,” Seungcheol coos softly.
You pant wantonly as your stepdad hammers his cock harder into your hot cunt. His fingers keep working your sensitive clit as he spears his thick cock deep into you. It’s all too much, and before you realize it, another orgasm crahses into your body.
“DADDY!” Your scream is loud as you arch your back, pussy gushing and clenching around Seungcheol’s huge cock.
“Fucking shit. That’s it, baby. Such a good girl for daddy.” Seungcheol groans as he fucks into your squirting cunt while your walls milk him for all he’s worth.
A feral noise leaves him as he buries his cock to the hilt, girthy length pulsing inside you as thick ropes of cum shoot into your pussy. Seungcheol fucks his spunk deeper inside you, leaning down to place gentle kisses all over your face.
“Taking it so well,” he murmurs adoringly, cock throbbing with pleasure. “Such a good girl for me.”
Seungcheol captures your lips in a heated kiss as his cock releases the last bit of cum. He pulls away and gives you one last affectionate peck before he sits up. His cocks slowly slips out of you, and Seungcheol’s eyes get impossibly darker when he sees his cum slowly tricking from your pussy. You love the possessive look on his face so you clench your pussy to push out more of his hot cum.
“This week’s going to be perfect.” He sighs contentedly.
You hum in agreement, making grabby hands at him. Seungcheol smiles sweetly and goes to cuddle you how you want. You sigh into his chest, letting the exhaustion take over.
“Love you, Cheolie. So much.”
Seungcheol presses a sweet kiss to your hair, basking in the feeling of having you in his arms. “I love you too, baby. More than anything.”
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“So, how’s your vacation going?”
Seungcheol hums against your scalp, holding back a groan when you unconsciously clench down on him. You two decided to spend the day by the pool, which led to you wanting to cockwarm him. So now, he’s laying on one of the pool chairs with you on top of him. Your bikini bottoms are pulled to the side as his big cock pulses inside of you.
The fact that he can lull you to sleep while his dick is inside you is so endearing to him. It’s one of his favorite things in the world, and once he hangs up his call he’ll fuck you awake, just how you like.
“Amazing,” Seungcheol doesn’t bother to hide the bliss in his voice. “Thanks again for calling my wife into work.”
Jeonghan laughs deviously. “I owed you one. You helped me pull off my plan.”
Seungcheol laughs along as he thinks back to the pills he gave his friend for his own nefarious agenda. “It took you longer than I thought.”
“You of all people know that plans like ours take time. If anything went wrong, I would’ve lost everything.” Jeonghan sighs as he thinks back on how long it took to perfectly orchestrate everything. “And you know I would never let myself be a bad guy in my little girl’s eyes.”
It’s true. He’s sure Jeonghan would rather die than have his stepdaughter think less of him.
“Seungcheol,” Jeonghan says after a beat of silence. “What’s the next step? I can only keep your wife busy with work for so long.”
Seungcheol grins when you cuddle deeper into his neck. You’re close to waking up, so he’ll have to cut his call short.
“Don’t worry,” he says with a devious grin as his hand smooths down your back. “By this time next year, my ex wife won’t even be a thought.”
1K notes · View notes
pucksandpower · 6 months ago
Text
Clickbait
Toto Wolff x Ferrari team principal!Reader
Summary: in which a reporter learns not to mess with the power couple of Formula 1 … the hard way
Based on this request
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The bustling newsroom of BusinessF1 magazine hums with activity as Graham Lowell, a junior reporter with more ambition than scruples, hunches over his laptop. His fingers fly across the keyboard, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he types out what he believes to be the scoop of the century.
Conflict of Interest in the Pit Lane: Ferrari and Mercedes’ Love Affair
Graham leans back, admiring his handiwork. He’s certain this article will catapult him to journalism stardom. Little does he know, he’s about to learn a harsh lesson in the dangers of sensationalism.
As the article goes live, the Formula 1 world erupts into chaos. Social media platforms light up with speculation and outrage. Within hours, the story spreads like wildfire, reaching the very subjects of its scandalous claims.
In the Ferrari motorhome, you stand before a group of wide-eyed team members, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you. “I assure you, these allegations are completely false. Our team’s integrity is not, and will never be, compromised.”
Your phone buzzes incessantly in your pocket, but you ignore it. You know who it is, and you know you’ll need to face him soon enough.
Across the paddock, in the sleek confines of the Mercedes garage, Toto Wolff paces like a caged lion. His usually calm demeanor is nowhere to be seen as he barks orders into his phone.
“I want our legal team on this immediately,” he growls. “This is slander, pure and simple. They’ve gone too far this time.”
As the day wears on, the pressure mounts. You find yourself fielding increasingly hostile questions from reporters, their microphones thrust aggressively in your face.
“Is it true that you’ve been passing Ferrari’s secrets to Mercedes?” One shouts.
“How long have you been manipulating race results?” Another demands.
You maintain your composure, but inside, you’re seething. The blatant sexism in their questions is not lost on you. They seem all too eager to believe that a woman in your position must have achieved it through nefarious means.
As you push through the crowd, a familiar voice cuts through the chaos. “That’s enough!” Toto’s commanding tone silences the mob instantly. He strides forward, placing a protective arm around your shoulders.
“My wife and I will be making a statement shortly,” he announces, his steely gaze daring anyone to object. “Until then, I suggest you all refrain from spreading baseless rumors.”
The crowd parts reluctantly, allowing you both to escape to the relative quiet of a nearby hospitality suite. As soon as the door closes behind you, Toto’s fierce expression melts into one of concern.
“Are you alright, liebling?” He asks softly, cupping your face in his hands.
You lean into his touch, allowing yourself a moment of vulnerability. “I’m fine, Toto. Just ... frustrated. They’re so quick to believe the worst of me.”
Toto’s jaw clenches. “It’s disgraceful. But we’ll fight this, together. I promise you, they won’t get away with it.”
A knock at the door interrupts your moment. Toto’s assistant pokes her head in. “Sir, the lawyers are here.”
What follows is a whirlwind of legal jargon and strategy discussions. You listen intently as your shared legal team outlines the plan of attack.
“We’ll issue cease and desist orders to every outlet that’s republished the story,” the head lawyer explains. “And we’ll be filing a defamation lawsuit against BusinessF1 magazine and the reporter responsible.”
Toto nods approvingly. “Good. I want them to feel the full force of our response. This ends now.”
As the lawyers file out, you turn to Toto, a hint of worry in your eyes. “Do you think this will be enough? The damage to my reputation ...”
Toto takes your hands in his, his gaze intense. “We will rebuild it, stronger than ever. I won’t let them tarnish everything you’ve worked for.”
Meanwhile, back at the BusinessF1 office, Graham Lowell is beginning to realize the gravity of his mistake. His editor storms into the bullpen, face red with fury.
“Lowell!” He bellows. “My office, now!”
Graham follows meekly, his earlier bravado evaporating with each step. As he enters the office, he sees his editor isn’t alone. A grim-faced man in an expensive suit stands by the window.
“Sit down,” the editor growls. Graham complies, his legs feeling like jelly.
The man by the window turns, fixing Graham with a steely glare. “Mr. Lowell, I’m representing Mr. and Mrs. Wolff in this matter. I’m here to inform you that you and this publication are being sued for defamation.”
Graham’s mouth goes dry. “But ... but I had a source! They told me-”
“A source you failed to verify,” his editor cuts in. “Did you even attempt to get a comment from either party before publishing?”
Graham’s silence is damning. The lawyer continues, his voice cold and precise. “The damages we’re seeking are substantial. Your reckless journalism has caused significant harm to my clients’ reputations.”
As the full implications of his actions sink in, Graham slumps in his chair. His dreams of journalistic glory crumble before his eyes, replaced by the stark reality of legal consequences.
Outside, the F1 paddock buzzes with new excitement. Word of the impending lawsuit spreads quickly, and suddenly, those who were so quick to believe the scandal are backpedaling furiously.
You and Toto stand united before a sea of cameras, your hands clasped tightly together. Toto speaks first, his voice resonating with controlled anger.
“The allegations made against my wife and me are not only false but malicious,” he states. “We have always maintained the highest standards of professionalism and integrity in our respective roles.”
You step forward, your head held high. “I’ve worked tirelessly to earn my position as Team Principal at Scuderia Ferrari. To suggest that my success is due to anything other than my own merit is not only insulting to me but to every woman fighting to make her mark in this sport.”
The press conference continues, with you and Toto presenting a united front against the baseless accusations. As you field questions, you can see the tide of public opinion beginning to turn.
Later that evening, in the privacy of your hotel suite, you finally allow yourself to relax. Toto wraps you in a warm embrace, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“You were magnificent today,” he murmurs. “I’m so proud of you.”
You smile up at him, feeling the tension of the day start to melt away. “We make a good team, don’t we?”
Toto chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eye. “The best. Although, I must say, I’m almost disappointed we don’t actually have any juicy secrets to share. It might make things more exciting.”
You playfully swat his arm, laughing despite yourself. “I think we have enough excitement in our lives, thank you very much.”
As you settle into each other’s arms, you know that whatever challenges come your way, you’ll face them together. The storm may rage outside, but in here, in this moment, all is calm.
And somewhere across the continent, in a small, cluttered apartment, Graham Lowell stares at his laptop screen, watching his career and reputation crumble in real-time.
Social media is ablaze with backlash against him and support for you and Toto. As he scrolls through the endless comments condemning his shoddy journalism, one thought echoes in his mind.
“I am so, so screwed.”
2K notes · View notes
mypoisonedvine · 1 year ago
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𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐂𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 | dad's best friend!cillian murphy x reader
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | based on the following request: what would dilf/dad's best friend cillian do if he found your dildo?
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5k (this was literally supposed to be a drabble...)
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut (18+ only), significant age gap (reader is college-aged, cillian is in his late forties), voyeurism/exhibitionism, semi-public sex, use of toys, praise kink, unprotected sex, very brief/semi sarcastic 'sir' kink, shockingly fluffy??
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Not that your parents' anniversary cocktail party wasn't horribly riveting (cue dramatic eyeroll) but you were upstairs, on your bed, on your phone; you'd had enough of 'so how's college going?' and 'what's your major again?' and 'got any boyfriends yet? you must be a heartbreaker' for one evening— or a lifetime, preferably.
It wasn’t even that comfortable to be on the bed in your party dress—a cute, short sparkly one that you’d picked out for tonight—but it was better than standing around and trying to balance in those sky-high heels; those you had kicked off into the corner of the room the second you were alone.
When you heard a small rap on the door, you hummed a quick "Come in!" and didn't even look up from your phone, figuring it was your mom or dad come to find you after you disappeared.
Instead, you heard Mr. Murphy's voice as he leaned in the doorframe; "Sorry to bug you," he said, startling you slightly as you closed Instagram and set your phone down. "Just needed a Tide pen— your mom said you might have one in here?"
"O-oh, yeah," you said, sitting up, "sure— what happened?"
"Salsa fiasco," he joked softly as he shut the door behind him, showing you the dark red stain on his shirt— though the shirt itself was red, so it wasn't too egregious, but still noticeable.
"That's too bad," you chuckled, "I warned them about that salsa— if you serve salsa, there's gonna be a fiasco, that's what I said."
He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "They should listen to you more," he agreed.
"I've got a couple stain remover pens in that top drawer," you suggested as you pointed to your dresser.
"Great," he smiled, starting to unbutton the shirt; you got nervous for a second until you realized he had on a black undershirt beneath. It's hard to say why you were nervous about that, since you'd seen him shirtless plenty of times in the years you'd known him...
"Nobody's worried about me going missing, right?" you wondered as he continued working on the buttons, and he shook his head while shrugging slightly.
"Not yet," he replied, "but they're going to want to find you soon, you're sort of the star of the night."
You rolled your eyes, frowning. "It's my parents' anniversary party, I think they should be the focus."
"Maybe they should, but you're the much more interesting one," he informed you.
You pulled your legs up a bit, leaning to the side as you sat on your bed; as much as all this attention from your parents' friends was usually annoying to you, something about being interesting to Mr. Murphy didn't bother you so much. "Is it weird for you?" you asked, lowering your voice a bit; he tilted his head quickly as if to ask what you meant. "Going to an anniversary party after, you know—"
The words hung in the air, seeming to gather around his conspicuously naked ring finger: after the divorce. "Oh, no," he scoffed, taking off his cufflinks. "It's fine; but I'm sick of the questions about it."
You winced. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"Don't worry," he laughed finally shirking off the shirt; he looked a little too good in just the short-sleeved undershirt. "You can make it even by letting me ask you how college is going."
"Oh god," you groaned, rolling your eyes, and he laughed.
"If I didn't know from your parents that you were acing it, I'd worry that your aversion to talking about it meant you were struggling somehow."
"It's not that," you assured, "it's the people."
"The people?" he pressed. "Or the guys?"
You laughed nervously, looking down at your lap. "Geez, you learn to mindread while I was gone or something?"
He stepped around your bed to get to the dresser, laying his shirt down over it. "No, I just remember that time— somehow. And I remember how much of a headache I and every other young guy was."
"I guess not much has changed then," you smiled.
"What, I'm still a headache?" he grinned as he looked over his shoulder at you.
"No, I meant—"
"I know what you meant, I'm just teasing," he chuckled. "Top drawer you said?"
"Yeah," you nodded, and he opened the top drawer of the dresser; of course, only right then did you remember that you should have specifically said top left. Because the top right was—
Oh shit.
You swallowed thickly as Cillian stared down into the open drawer, and your heart pounded as you somehow hoped and prayed that what was in there had turned invisible or something; but if the look on his face was anything to go by, it was just as visible as ever.
“I—fuck, sorry, I forgot that’s—” you choked out, face burning impossibly hot.  “I never meant for you to see—I’m—could you shut the fucking drawer, please, you pervert?!”
“I’m the pervert?” he laughed thinly, looking at you again finally.  “You’re the one with a massive fucking dildo in here.”
“Well—you weren’t supposed to see that—”
“Yeah, but—fuck,” he choked, “I was just looking for your stain remover and I see your— you have a— are you sure that isn’t technically considered a weapon or something?  How’s a guy supposed to compete with that?”
“That’s the great thing about it: he doesn’t have to compete,” you explained, “that’s sort of the whole idea.”
He looked back at it for a second and you yelped, reaching your leg off the bed to kick him in the hip.  “Would you please shut the drawer?!”
“Sorry, sorry,” he laughed a bit, “but I mean, how am I supposed to react to that?
“Well, you’re not supposed to just stare at it!” you insisted.
He shut the drawer, giving you a look you couldn’t possibly decipher.
“What were you thinking?!” you said, somewhat rhetorically.
“I—well,” he hummed, looking away from you for a second, “I was thinking that I can’t imagine how you can possibly fit something like that.”
You blinked quickly, not sure what to say in response to that.  “Well—I mean, it’s a little big, but… it gets the job done.  Keeps me from calling the guys I shouldn’t be calling.”
He nodded.  “Well, that’s good… none of those college boys could possibly deserve you…”
His eyes were running all over you, and even though you’d picked out this dress just for this party because you loved how you looked in it, you felt a little exposed by his stare.
“I just can’t believe a girl like you—”
“Come on, I’ve never been a saint,” you scoffed, glancing away.
“No, I just mean… the size of that thing…” he trailed off.
“You really can’t get over that part,” you noticed, “is this some kind of… intimidation, Freudian situation?”
You glanced quickly at his pants, and he started to deny it instantly.  “No—come on, it’s not—I just can’t believe you take all that.  For fun.  It looks like it would break you.”
You hadn’t even had any drinks at this anniversary party, and yet you found yourself with this foggy head like you were tipsy; you blurted something out as if you were tipsy.  “What, you want me to prove it?”
His chest sunk a bit, and you were about to take it back when he spoke before you.  “I’d like to see you try.”
Biting your lip, you sat up on the bed, reaching around him and into the drawer.  He didn’t step back or out of the way, just let you grab the toy and lean back on the bed in front of him.
You reached up under your dress, sliding your panties out of the way, finding yourself suddenly plenty wet to fit this toy.
His eyes never left you, though they certainly travelled all over your body as you pressed the toy up to your entrance; it was thick, he wasn’t wrong, and you had to slowly warm yourself up to it whenever you used it on yourself. 
After pushing with enough pressure, the tip finally slipped inside and you let out a small sigh.  He watched carefully, and your lips fell open into a moan as you pushed the toy deeper into yourself.  When the stretch became a bit too sharp, you winced and slowed down, trying to take your time even with your heart racing and hands shaking.
You heard his own breathing picking up, watching you take the toy deeper; you found your gaze wandering over him, even lingering on his groin to see if you could catch a bulge growing there, but nothing was obvious yet.  You stared for a moment at his hands, too, suddenly wishing to have them all over you—well, maybe not that suddenly, you’d sort of thought about this before.  It wasn’t until somewhat recently that you noticed how sexy he was.  Maybe when you were younger, you understood that he was better looking than all the other adults you knew, but only once you left for college did you start thinking about him out of nowhere, imagining what he was really like when he wasn’t just being friendly with you—you even asked your mom once on a phone call if he was dating anyone.  Thankfully, she didn’t seem to get suspicious when you asked that; but she’d be more than fucking suspicious if she walked in now, saw you doing this to yourself under his watchful eye.
Oddly enough, the knowledge that someone could walk in and see this just made you even more desperate, and you gasped as you pushed the toy in deeper.
It still wasn’t all the way in, and you already felt so full… truth be told, he had a point about it maybe being too big for you—when you usually used it on yourself, you only put it in a little over halfway, since that was all you really needed.  You hadn’t put the whole thing inside since you first got it—and yes, you’d ordered it online, because if you’d seen it in person you probably would’ve been as intimidated by its girth as he was.
Your decision not to wear a bra with this dress became very apparent when his gaze settled on your chest; your nipples were hard, and clearly visible under the fabric now.  It was just because it was strapless that you went without, but you were thankful for it when you saw him quickly lick his lips at the sight.  You dared to moan just a little louder as you pulled the toy in and out, picking up your pace carefully.
“How’s it feel?” he asked lowly, his eyes drifting back to where the toy slid into you. 
“Good,” you mumbled, “really fucking good.”
“Can you really take it all?” he pressed, making your walls clench on the silicone.
Instead of answering aloud, you simply pushed it all the way in until your eyes rolled back—it was so deep, pressing heavy and fat against your deepest points until it felt like you might burst.
“Fuck,” he praised—it was just a swear, but the way he whispered it made it sound like a praise.
You sped up slightly, trying to do this the way you normally would without someone staring at you.  But you were even more sensitive with him watching, your walls clenching more and more around the toy until it was almost hard to keep thrusting it in and out.  Sighing, you shut your eyes and laid back on the bed to try to help yourself relax.  The change in angle just seemed to make the toy go deeper, rubbing harder against the spot inside you that made your back arch.
“You’re so wet,” he breathed; you whimpered, nodding in agreement, and kept moving the dildo as deep as you could get it with every thrust. 
Your free arm went back over your head to hold onto the comforter under you, your hand gripping tight for some relief for the pressure inside you.  “Fuck yes,” you whispered, knitting your brows together and fucking yourself faster.  “Feels so fucking good…”
He hummed a little, but you kept your eyes shut, afraid you’d lose your nerve if you looked at him again.  It had been months since you used anything but this, and you had no regrets—the toy performed way better than any of the guys you’d met at college.  But, truthfully, you didn’t like having to do this to yourself.  It felt like you could never move it fast or hard enough, and you needed to constantly have perfect control over the toy to get yourself to come—and when you come, the last thing you want is to take control, you want to lay back and lose control.  Still, it was better than the college fuckboys who smelled like beer and didn’t last more than two minutes.
Thinking about them wasn’t going to help you now, though; it was much better to think about Cillian, about those icy blue eyes running all over your body, about how his hands would hold you down while he claimed you, about how his lips would feel on your neck before he whispered in your ear that you were his…
You let out a sharp and sudden moan as the toy hit harder on that spot; your legs started to shake.  “Good girl,” he mumbled, making you moan even louder because god, those words just sounded right in his accent, with that rough voice—and they sounded right being said to you.
“Fuck,” you choked, “Mr. Murphy, I—”
He laughed a little.  “So polite,” he cooed.  “Open your eyes and look at me.”
Though it made your heart beat even faster, you did as you were told.  His stare was all-encompassing, making you feel completely trapped in a way you enjoyed more than you could’ve imagined. 
“Call me Cillian,” he insisted.
You weren’t sure if he meant to literally call him that right in that moment, but it sort of came out anyway: “Cillian,” you moaned, and the grip he’d taken on the dresser behind him tightened.
“Can you come for me?” he asked lowly.  “Right now?  Can you come on that fake cock?”
You bit your lip and nodded, moving the toy faster and faster— more desperate to come than ever.  “I—fuck, yeah, I’m close…”
“Good,” he praised again.  “Let me see you come, honey.”
Your back arched harder, deeper—your hands were shaking but you kept going, holding on tight to the dildo and forcing it back and forth as your legs began to quiver.
Moans poured from your mouth faster than you could try to quiet them—everyone was downstairs, you just had to hope the music and conversation was enough to drown out your desperate, pleading noises.  “Fuckin’ beautiful,” he mumbled, right as you hit the peak and melted into the mattress, a wave of ecstasy pouring over you.
You felt hot everywhere, but especially between your legs—you could swear you felt yourself leaking out around the toy, soaking it, giving away how needy you’d become and not even having the mental energy to feel any shame for it.
Cillian certainly didn’t look like he was trying to shame you for it; when you opened your eyes again, he had a stunned expression—in the best way.  “You normally come that fast for a toy?”
You laughed a little, but you still couldn’t quite catch your breath.  “No,” you admitted, “it normally takes… a bit longer than that…”
“What was different about tonight?” he mused, and you scoffed and rolled your eyes again.
“Shut up,” you sighed.  “Now I have to figure out how to take this thing out—I’m always sore after…”
“If you can handle putting it in, taking it out shouldn’t be much trouble,” he noticed.
Which, yes, that would make sense, but after coming you always got all tight and sensitive and it could be a little intense.
“How about I help you?” he offered, and your chest tightened.  He waited for you to nod before carefully wrapping his hand around your own, watching your face as he gently guided you to pull the toy out.
Your lips were slack and your eyes were probably glassy and dazed as he looked at you like that, completely enveloping you in his stare as he studied every detail of your expression.  Aside from some heavy breathing you didn’t react much to him sliding the toy out of you, until the ridge of the head reached your entrance and you winced.
“Shh,” he soothed gently, “it’s okay…”
A long sigh of relief emptied your chest when the toy tapered off and you felt the last of it slip out of you; you really noticed then how soaked you were, as a draft in the room seemed to cling to the patch of wetness that had coated all between your legs somehow.
“Lemme see, baby,” he cooed under his breath as he set the toy aside, kneeling down and resting a hand on the inside of your thigh to keep your legs open.
You could barely catch your breath with him doing that; you’d never had someone… look at it like that.  You felt incredibly vulnerable but impossibly sexy as you heard him sigh at the sight.  “Is it all stretched out now?” you wondered.
“No,” he said, “you look… just as tight as before.  Fuck.  That’s incredible.”
You bit your lip, sitting up enough to try to get a look at his face past the puffiness of your dress’ skirt, and he smirked up at you with the loveliest sparkle in his eye.  “Really?” you breathed, and he nodded.
Even though your hands were still shaking you suddenly felt brave; maybe it was just the afterglow, but you grabbed him by the shirt and sat up to kiss him, colliding your lips with his.  He reciprocated instantly, putting his hands on your upper back that the strapless dress left bare.
The kiss was perfect—needy but not too fast, sweet but not too chaste, teasing but not too slow.  The guys in college couldn’t even kiss like this… you were wondering why you ever even tried with them—or, you would’ve been if that kiss left you capable of thinking about anything but him.  “Need you,” you whispered as you pulled him closer, wrapping your arms around his strong shoulders.
“Fuck,” he mumbled against your lips, a hand holding your waist while he started to kiss your neck and jaw.  “Not here—your parents—”
“Don’t care,” you whimpered, “I’m so—fuck, Cillian, please—”
“You already came,” he noticed with a small laugh, “didn’t that take the edge off?”
“Not enough,” you whined, getting impatient and running a hand down over his shirt and down to his pants—and you smiled proudly as you felt the hardening bulge beneath.  He choked a little when you touched him there, holding you tighter.  “You want me too,” you noticed.
“Of course I do, but—” he breathed, then stopped himself as he tossed you back on the bed; you giggled as he crawled up over you, pinning you down.  “But we can’t… your parents would have my head on a platter—once they’re done serving crawfish etouffee off of it downstairs.”
“Well, I wasn’t planning on telling my parents,” you smirked.  “Were you?”
“No,” he agreed, kissing your neck again as you hummed happily.  “But if they found out—”
“So?  They wouldn’t like if they found out about what just happened, either—and they won’t.”
“But this is different,” he insisted.
“How?”
“Because this…”
He trailed off, kissing down your neck and over your shoulder, until a hand reached up to pull your dress down and expose your chest.
“Shit,” he sighed at the sight of it, and you smiled up at him.
“You were saying?” you teased.
“Right, erm,” he swallowed, “this is different because—because if we do this, you’re gonna be my girl.  Not just a misguided one-time fuck because you were turned on after screwing yourself with your dildo while I watched.”
You felt a little out of breath but nodded up at him.  “Okay,” you agreed.
“Okay?” he repeated, looking a little shocked.  “I tell you that you have to be mine and you just say okay?”
“What was I supposed to say, yes sir?” you joked.
“I just mean—shit, if I knew it would be this easy, I would’ve said something sooner,” he chuckled.  “But I’m, er, not complaining about the yes sir thing either…”
He sat up and started to unbutton his pants, making you wiggle a bit on the bed impatiently.  Even though you’d just gotten filled by your big toy, you felt needier than ever for something inside you—something real. 
Your throat caught when he took it out— it was pale and veiny just like the rest of him; long, uncut, a bead of precum starting to leak from the slit… it was beautiful, honestly.  The artificial fleshy hue of the silicone could never compete.
“Big enough for you?” he asked with a smirk, but you had to swallow before you answered because your mouth was watering.
“Yeah,” you panted, “plenty.”
He kissed you again, laying more of his weight on top of you; your legs wrapped around his hips, keeping him close as he pressed you down into your bed.
One hand found your wrist and held it back above your head, while the other kept a tight wrap around his cock so he could guide it to your waiting entrance.  When he pushed inside, you both sighed with relief like you’d been longing for this for ages—perhaps because both of you had, in your own ways.  “Fuck,” you breathed, “Cillian…”
He whispered your name back to you, heavy and desperate and right by your ear, and you absolutely knew you were his, just like he said.  He only stilled for a moment when he was all the way inside, already starting to rock back and forth—but he was sort of tender about it, watching you move under him as he fucked you.  “So pretty,” he praised quietly, kissing you again, even harder than before.  You both moaned into the kiss, and a warm, rough hand settled on your thigh under your dress.
Soon, the pleasure was too much to even focus on kissing, and your mouth just fell wide open in front of his as needy moans passed through it.  He stayed close, though, watching your face go slack with ecstasy.  The previous orgasm had left you sticky and sensitive inside, still totally dripping for him, everything in you begging for more.  “Oh my god,” you sighed, eyes rolling back, your composure completely slipping already.  He made you feel so good so easily—and fuck, the way he was looking at you, it was just too much to bear.
“Mm,” he hummed proudly, latching his lips onto your neck again until your fingers tangled in his hair.  He moved down and caught a nipple in his mouth, making you whimper as he suckled at it gently. 
“Fuck,” you whined, nearly pulling him along by the hair when he moved to the other one; you couldn’t stop clenching inside, squeezing him until he groaned against your skin. 
“Won’t last if you keep doing that,” he warned you softly. 
“What if I don’t want you to?” you teased, and he growled a little between his teeth, sitting up to look down at you.  He fucked you harder, but put a hand on top of your head and pet your hair for a moment, looking at you like you hung the moon; how could he be so dirty then so adorable within the same split-second?!
“I’ll do whatever you want me to,” he decided, speaking softly, “how about that?  What do you want me to do?”
That was a little too much power to give you, at least in your opinion, but you grinned as you considered it.  “Then I want you to come way too quick,” you decided, “like all those annoying college boys—because you just can’t help yourself.”
He laughed a little, though he stopped to bite his lip as he fucked you even harder—and faster, too.  “Okay,” he breathed, “don’t know why you want that, but—fuck— it won’t be very difficult after that little show you gave me.  You look so pretty when you come…”
“Just keep going and you can see it again,” you promised, holding onto him tighter as he pressed into you and really let you have it—not really rough or anything, you couldn’t risk making any more noise than you were, but still aggressive and passionate and desperate.
He kissed your neck again, burying his face in your shoulder and finding the spot that made you gasp out his name suddenly; your fingers clutched at fistfuls of his undershirt, and your legs began to shake where they were hooked around his hips and half-pushed-down pants.
“Oh my god,” you gasped, the pleasure hitting you again—but it was better than with the toy, it was stronger, and it just kept going because he kept going.  When your head fell back onto the mattress with a sigh, he realized that he’d made you come.
“Wait, fuck, I wasn’t looking,” he rushed as he popped his head up from the crook of your neck, “do it again.”
You laughed breathlessly and pushed against his shoulder a bit; “Shut up, I can’t do it on command.”
“You did it the last two times I told you to,” he reminded you, and that just made you feel even more deliciously dizzy. 
Yes, you were definitely his girl now—totally addicted to him.  You’d never felt like this with somebody—not just physically, but the trust and the laughter and the comfort of it all.  This wasn’t a too-empty dorm room that still smelled like fresh paint, it wasn’t a mattress with no sheets in an apartment with 5 roommates nearby, it wasn’t a guy you vaguely knew from a two-hundred-student class or someone you saw on a dating app and talked with for an afternoon before meeting for ‘coffee’ (it was never just coffee).  This was Mr. Murphy—and that should’ve made it weirder, but somehow, it just made it make more sense.
“So, if I tell you to come again,” he spoke lowly by your ear, a new authority to his tone, “you should come.”
You couldn’t think of anything else to say: “Yes, sir,” you breathed, hugging him close to you and pressing your face against his shoulder.
Of course, it wasn’t quite instantaneous, but just another minute of him giving you those deep, controlled thrusts right into your favorite spot sent you over the edge easily—and this time, he gently guided your face out of its hiding spot and looked at you, watched your pleasure overtake you, tenderly rubbing your cheek with his thumb.  “Good girl,” he praised softly, kissing you again just as the last of it drained from you; you were so numb that you barely heard him whisper something to you—it took you a few seconds to process it.
“I’m gonna come,” he’d whispered to you, “fuck, you’re so fucking warm…”
“Come inside,” you instructed, and for all the concern he tried to perform for you after you said that, his moan was undeniable, as was the way he started to move faster.
“Fuck, really?” he nearly whined.  “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, panting.
“You’re on—”
“Yes, please, just come inside me,” you begged, and he finally stopped protesting and pressed himself as deep into you as he could—you could feel the way his cock flexed, and it made your exhausted walls dig up just enough energy to flex back.
“Fuuuuck,” he groaned, holding onto you tightly.
You hummed a little at the feeling, turning your face towards his, hoping to see what he looked like in this moment—but he pulled you into another kiss before you could get a good look.  Even this kiss was different from the others—a little slower, a little more tired in a wonderful, dreamy way.  He was breathing heavy against you, and eventually he found the energy to push himself up with his arms on either side of your head, and you smiled up at him.  He looked really fucking good like this: his face a bit flushed, which seemed to show his freckles and fine lines even more (which you adored); his hair falling down, a little wavier from the slight sweat he’d worked up; his lips swollen and slick from the kisses; and those eyes, they looked as beautiful as always, but they made you feel beautiful, too.
“Is taking this one out gonna hurt, too?” he asked you with a smirk.
“Probably a little,” you shrugged.
“For both of us,” he agreed, “I’m so fucking sensitive now… you really do have me acting like a desperate college boy—but you know, it’s been a while, so…”
“Right, sure—good excuse,” you joked, but you didn’t mind any of it either way.
He did it a little quicker, pulling back as he took a sharp breath in, and you giggled softly.
“Fuck, I can feel it, like… leaking out,” you admitted, biting your lip at the sick satisfaction of the warm gush.
“I think I need to see that,” he said, sitting up and picking your legs up from under the knee to look at you.  This was apparently a habit of his—and you were starting to get used to it already.
“How’s it look?” you asked, wondering if he’d finally stretched you out after that.
He just stared at it for a moment longer, running his tongue over his teeth, before finally looking back at you and saying with a smile: “Looks like you need the Tide pen more than I do.”
8K notes · View notes
lightsoutnaway · 10 months ago
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Am I Good for You?
PAIRING: Oscar Piastri x reader
WARNINGS: SMUT 18+, dom/sub dynamics, praise, p in v, fingering, safe word mention, edging, unprotected sex, use of ‘sir’,
SUMMARY: Oscar talks to Lando about his sex life and starts worrying that he’s not pleasing you. You decide to try things a little rougher.
WORD COUNT: 3,102
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“Do you think I’m good at sex?”
Oscar asked the question as soon as he walked through the door. You laughed. He hadn’t even said ‘hello.’
“What are you talking about, Osc?” You asked. You were sitting at the counter flipping through a magazine.
“Do you think I’m good at sex?” Oscar repeated.
“Is this some kind of foreplay? It’s not really working,” you joked. Oscar looked truly distressed though. He sat down on the stool beside yours at the counter.
“Baby, I’m serious. Is it—Am I good for you?” He asked.
“Where’s this coming from?” You asked. Oscar had never done anything that made you suspect him of being insecure before.
“I was talking to Lando today,” Oscar admitted. You sighed.
“Oscar, Lando’s crazy,” you reminded your boyfriend.
“I know, but he was talking about some of the things he does,” Oscar started. “And he was really surprised that we hadn’t ever done any of them.”
“Okay?” You waited for something more. Oscar sighed.
“The way he looked at me just made me feel like he knew that I was disappointing you without ever asking you,” he told you.
“Well, he doesn’t know that because you’ve never disappointed me, Osc,” you said firmly.
“But do you get everything you want from me?” Oscar pushed. “I don’t do anything special.”
“Did Lando tell you that?” You questioned. You needed to have a word with the sassy little brit.
“No, but he might as well have,” Oscar said.
“What is it that he said?” You pushed.
“It wasn’t one thing,” Oscar told you. “He was just listing off all the things he does with his partners and…I’d never done any of them with you.” He dropped his shoulders. “I feel like I’ve been doing it all wrong.”
“Is there something you want us to do?” You asked. Oscar shrugged.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I just—I thought I knew what you wanted, but I…I guess I never asked you.”
“What did you think I wanted?” You questioned. Oscar looked up at you. He had been avoiding your eyes for the last few minutes.
“I thought you wanted—I don’t know—I thought you should be treated like a princess,” Oscar finally said. You smiled at this revelation.
“You’re always so careful with me,” you said fondly.
“I thought I should be. You’re not just some fling,” he told you. “I don’t want you to feel like I don’t care about you.”
“I always feel like you care about me,” you assured him.
“But are you satisfied? Do you want more from me?”
“Do you want more?” You asked. “You’re more experienced than me, Oscar.”
“Don’t think about me,” he said. “I’ve always kept it….soft…with you.” He was quiet for a moment. “But I haven’t ever asked you if that’s what you want, and I should have,” Oscar reiterated his earlier thought. “So, baby,” he started. “What do you want?” Your eyes widened. The question was far too direct for your shy personality.
“I don’t know,” you replied quickly. “I like what we do.” Oscar smirked. You answered too quickly. You did know what you wanted.
“I do too,” he assured you. “But we could do other things. I’ve always taken the lead, baby,” Oscar said. “What’s something you think about when I’m gone?”
“Oscar, I always think about you,” you said, thinking that it was the most obvious thing in the world. Oscar grinned.
“C’mon, baby,” Oscar said. “Just because you weren’t experienced when you met me doesn’t mean you didn’t have naughty thoughts.”
“Oscar Jack Piastri, what are you saying about me?” You questioned. Oscar chuckled. His eyes were twinkling as he looked at you.
“I know you said I was the first person to make you come,” Oscar said.
“Don’t brag.” He chuckled.
“But I was second,” Oscar continued. “I think we both know the first person to make you come was you.” You blushed. Oscar was simultaneously turning you on and filling your chest with nerves. “You had fantasies before you met me.” Oscar’s eyes were hungry. “Tell me.” You looked up at him with wide eyes.
“Oscar, I don’t want to,” you whispered shyly.
“Why not, love?” He asked.
“I like what we do…and it’s embarrassing,” you mumbled.
“It’s embarrassing to tell me something you want from me?” Oscar questioned.
“Yes!” You whined.
“Why, baby? Don’t you trust me?” Oscar pushed. Your eyes softened.
“Of course I trust you, but…” You trailed off.
“But what?” Oscar pushed.
“You think I’m so innocent, but…” you started. Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Sometimes I want you to be a little…rougher…with me,” you admitted. “But I don’t want you to think I’m dirty. I like being your innocent baby.”
“It’s okay to be dirty, kitten,” Oscar assured you quickly. “And you can still be my innocent baby.” He reached out and took your hands. “But you want me to be rough with you?” He asked cautiously. Oscar had never tried being rough with you. It didn’t seem right to him. You were so sweet and innocent in his eyes. Your cheeks were burning and you couldn’t meet his eyes as you said the words though. Oscar was sure you were telling the truth.
“If that’s okay…” you whispered. Oscar kept his eyes on you, hoping he could draw another admission out of you if he just stayed quiet. “And maybe you could…make me…beg…a little.” Oscar’s face lit up.
“What do you want to beg for?” He asked at once. You raised an eyebrow. It seemed you had stumbled upon something he wanted too.
“Umm…Why don’t you pick?” You offered. Oscar grinned.
“You want me to be in charge?” He asked. He’d never been submissive between the two of you, but he’d never been particularly dominant either. The balance between you had always been fairly even. You nodded shyly.
“Please,” you squeaked out.
“My naughty baby,” Oscar started taunting. “All this time I thought you were so innocent.” His hands were on you now, sliding up your thighs. You pushed your knees together, as if that would keep him from knowing just how turned on you were.
“Oscar,” you whispered. You weren’t sure what you even meant to ask for.
“But you’re not completely innocent, are you?” Oscar teased you. “Just had this little head full of naughty thoughts while I was treating you so nice.” Oscar could tell by the way you were looking at him that he already had you wrapped around his finger. “Bedroom. Now.” Oscar had never given you a command that way, even in your most heated moments. It was turning you on though, and Oscar could see that. You quickly hurried down the hall. When you got to the bedroom you turned around and looked at Oscar, waiting for further instructions.
“We should have a safe word, shouldn’t we?” Oscar asked you. His new dominant facade wasn’t there. This was your sweet caring Oscar who always wanted you to be okay.
“How about ‘papaya?’” You offered. Oscar chuckled. He had closed the space between you. His hands fell onto your hips.
“Sounds good to me,” he agreed. “You can tell me any time you don’t like something, okay? I won’t be mad.” You nodded. “I want to hear it,” he requested.
“I’ll tell you if I don’t like something,” you assured him.
“Good girl,” he praised. Your eyes went wide and you looked down. Oscar ducked to meet your eyes. “You like that, huh?” He asked. “Should’ve told me that before, kitten.” He gripped the hem of your shirt and lifted it over your head in one smooth motion. You had been at home all day and you hadn’t put on a bra, so Oscar was blessed with the sight of your plush breasts. Your nipples hardened in the cool air of your bedroom. You started to wrap your arms around yourself as a shiver passed over you. Oscar smiled. “Cold?”
“A little,” you said. Oscar grabbed your hips, pushing you back towards the bed till he’d gotten you laid out on your back.
“I’ll warm you up.” He grabbed the waistband to your sweatpants and tugged them down with your underwear. He looked down at your naked body. He never got enough of your body. You were a work of art to him. You were the object of every one of his fantasies. He couldn’t help but stare.
“Yours too,” you called up nervously. Oscar met your eyes and smiled smugly. He kept his eyes locked on yours as he pulled his shirt off. His chest was tight and muscular and he flexed his arms as he tossed his shirt to the side. He started to climb on the bed, but you whined. He looked down at you, waiting for you to explain. “All of it.” You told him. He chuckled before taking his pants off, leaving himself as bare as he had you.
Oscar climbed up the bed once he was naked and laid his body over yours, his weight holding you in place. He had his forearms planted on either side of your head and he leaned down to kiss you. He was soft and sweet with his kisses, contrasting sharply from the dominance he was exhibiting everywhere else. You let out a small sigh of pleasure into the kiss and Oscar chuckled against your lips. He started kissing down your neck and body.
Oscar’s lips fell around your nipple. He sucked and licked at the hardened flesh, bringing a tingling feeling all over your skin. You could feel the burn spreading between your legs and you tried to push them together, but found your knees were blocked by Oscar’s hips. He sensed your intention immediately. He lifted one hand and slid it down between your legs.
“Osc,” you moaned softly at the mere idea of him touching your most sensitive spots. He laughed against your body. He had moved to your other nipple after he felt he had paid enough attention to the first. You were already whimpering and whining under his electric touch. His fingers had found your dripping hole but he refused to slip them inside. You whined in protest, shifting your hips up to signal what you wanted.
“Shh,” he hushed you sharply. You closed your mouth at once. He had never displayed anything like disapproval before. Instinctually, you wanted to please him. He continued to tease your entrance, his lips moving back to yours. You were growing impatient when you finally realized what he was waiting for.
“Please touch me, Oscar,” you murmured against his lips. Oscar smirked. That was all it took for him to slide his fingers inside your warmth. You arched your back and moaned loudly at the feeling of finally being touched in the way you truly wanted.
Oscar slowly started pumping his fingers in and out of you. You were whimpering under his lazy movements, desperate for him to give you more. He kissed your neck, surely making marks that would be seen in any photos taken at the race in the upcoming weekend.
“Are you feeling good?” Oscar asked. His voice was low and gravelly and his accent made his words sound even sexier. You nodded. He gave you a look that told you he was expecting a vocal answer.
“Really good,” you called up. Oscar started pumping his fingers faster. You whimpered. He pushed his thumb against your clit. You whined embarrassingly loud for the fact that he didn’t move it. He snickered at your reaction.
“You’re so fucking sensitive,” Oscar commented. He was saying it more to himself than you—it was like he was bragging to himself. He knew that he was the only one who had ever had you in this state.
The tension in your body was rising and you knew your orgasm was coming. You arched your back, throwing your head into the pillows and clutching at Oscar’s body. You were just on the precipice when suddenly, Oscar wasn’t touching you anymore. You opened your eyes and stared at him, but you were met only with a cocky smirk.
“Why?” You whined.
“You don’t come until I decide you do tonight,” Oscar said. “That’s what you’re begging for.” You closed your mouth and nodded dutifully.
“Yes, sir.” You let the nickname fall off your lips with ease—you didn’t even plan on saying it but there it was on your tongue. Oscar grinned when he heard you.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Oscar groaned. “You’re going to be so good for me, aren’t you?” You nodded quickly.
“Really good, sir,” you agreed. He chuckled.
“Then right now, be quiet,” Oscar said. That was all the warning you got before he was thrusting his fingers into your quickly, his thumb moving quickly against your clit. You whined loudly. “Shh.” The way he was hushing you was driving you up the wall and you clenched around his fingers. Oscar felt it and was spurred on. He moved faster with the hopes of drawing out another moan that he could hush you for.
After Oscar had gotten his fill of hushing you he told you to moan again, not wanting to miss out on the beautiful sounds you made. He drew you to the edge again, spurred on by the moans he could draw from you once he had told you not to be quiet.
Oscar couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He thought he might have been transported to heaven given how beautiful the sight in front of him was. Your face was contorted in pleasure, your eyes watering. Your fingers were dug into the sheets and your hair stuck to your sweaty forehead. You were whimpering and whining in ecstasy and every little ‘please’ and ‘Oscar’ that fell from your lips made him even harder. His thumb was slowly rubbing back and forth over your clit as he kept fingering you steadily. He could feel you tightening around his fingers and he knew he was bringing you towards the edge again.
“Osc,” you murmured more strongly than your small whispers. You knew that he knew you were about to cum. He’d always known your body so well.
“Yes?” He called down with a sly smirk on his face. You scowled at him, knowing he was teasing you.
“Oscar, please.” Oscar smirked.
“Please, what?” He asked.
“Please can I—ungh!” You gasped when Oscar rubbed the pads of his fingers against your walls.
“Can you what?” Oscar taunted.
“Please can I cum, sir?” You spit out.
“No, I don’t think so,” Oscar teased as he pulled his thumb away. You cried out in protest. Oscar stopped thrusting his fingers, and pulled them out of your heat. Oscar watched as your chest heaved, trying to recover from the sudden theft of pleasure. “God, I should’ve been playing with you like this since we met,” Oscar groaned.
“Please,” you whined. “I want to come.”
“Oh, I know, kitten,” Oscar cooed. You sniffled slightly, a single tear slipping down your cheek. Oscar reached up and wiped it away. “Is it too much?” He checked. His voice was softer. You were quiet for a moment.
“No,” you admitted quietly. Oscar smiled, but he was worried that you were just saying it to please him.
“You promise me, kitten?” He pushed. You nodded.
“I promise, Osc,” you said. Oscar smiled in approval and kissed you.
“You want my cock now, baby?” He asked.
“Please,” you said in a gasping breath. Oscar was going wild at the desperation in your voice. He couldn’t bring himself to tease anymore so he lined himself up with you. He looked into your eyes as he slowly slipped himself into you. He moved slowly as he pushed in, making the most indulgent moan you had ever heard from him.
“You’re fucking soaked,” he groaned. He was right. You could hear the slosh of your juices with every thrust Oscar made.
“I’m not going to last long,” you whined.
“I know, kitten,” Oscar said. He grabbed your legs and pushed them up against your chest. You let out a sharp cry at the sudden change in angle. You cried out Oscar’s name and dug your fingers into his arms, surely leaning bruises. Oscar could feel you clenching down on him and he knew you were nearing your peak. He looked deep into your tear brimmed eyes. You felt the panic of having your orgasm stolen from you again. Oscar’s eyes were dark as they stared into yours.
“Beg.” His voice was low and gravelly and firm and you were sure there wasn’t a person in the world who could have denied him.
“Please, sir. Please make come. I need it so bad. I need you. I need your cum. Please, Osc,” you were crying and whimpering the words out, terrified of the idea of having the burning pleasure you felt taken from you again.
“Where do you need my cum?” Oscar pushed.
“Inside me! Inside, Osc, please!” You cried. Your body was on fire, your mind outside your body. Oscar grinned at your words.
“Come.” Oscar’s order was the sweetest sound you ever heard and you let the tsunami of pleasure Oscar had built for you wash over your body. You were shaking and crying, your hips pushing up into his. You tightened down on Oscar and he gasped, letting himself go to the sounds of you chanting his name over and over.
You weren’t sure how long it was after you came but you found yourself back in your body with Oscar lying on top of you. He was pressing soft kisses to the crook of your neck where his head was resting comfortably. Somehow he knew that you had calmed down the moment it happened.
“How was that for you?” He asked. You laughed.
“Are you joking, Osc?” You asked. “That’s the best sex we’ve ever had.” He chuckled back.
“I didn’t want to assume,” he replied. You noticed the bruises you’d made on his arms and you gently ran your fingertips over them.
“I think we owe Lando a ‘thank you,’” you said. Oscar laughed.
“I’ll be sure to let him know.” You turned your head down to find Oscar’s eyes looking into yours.
“You better not tell him everything,” you threatened. Oscar smiled.
“There’s no secrets between teammates,” he teased.
“There is if you want to do that again,” you said. Oscar smirked.
“I think we just established that you’re the one who does the begging.” You smirked right back at him.
“Maybe this time. But Lando was right. There’s lots we haven’t tried.”
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covenofagatha · 1 month ago
Text
A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 1)
@lanfear-is-my-darkmistress
You are a profiler for the FBI when you get called to help catch a serial killer in Westview. (Killing Eve/Hannibal AU)
Word count: 4200
Warnings: descriptions of violence, fear
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The phone rings at 7:30 in the morning on your day off and you want to throw it against the wall. 
You had been sleeping – having a very good dream, actually – when the harsh ringtone roughly jolts you out of your slumber. 
“Hello?” you answer groggily, rubbing your face with your hand. If it’s a spam call, you think you might lose your mind. 
“Is this Agent Y/L/N?” A gruff voice asks and you shoot up out of bed into the sitting position. 
You clear your throat and try to sound professional. “Um, yes, this is she. Who am I speaking with?”
“This is Director Hayward,” the man says, and your eyes widen. The head of the FBI is calling you. “Have you heard of the town of Westview?” 
Your forehead wrinkles while you rack your brain for anything that sounds familiar. “No, sir, I don’t think so.” 
There’s muffled sounds from the other side of the phone and then you can hear Director Hayward clearly. “It’s a small town in New Jersey. Nothing special, nothing too out of the ordinary.” He pauses like you’re supposed to recognize it, but after a moment of silence he sighs and continues. “About seven months ago, we believe a pair of serial killers moved into town. Bodies started piling up, seemingly no rhyme or reason to who was killed, only that the victims were all female.” 
“Okay,” you say slowly, trying to wrap your head around all this. If it’s been going on for this long, why haven’t you heard about it? “Are we sure they’re connected if there’s no pattern of victim? Usually men have a type when they do this kind of thing; the women usually look like an ex-lover who broke their heart, or their mom.” 
You can practically hear him roll his eyes through the phone. “They were all killed the same way: poison to sedate them and then their hearts were carved out. And there was a purple azalea left in every single one of the victims’ chest cavities. So we’re pretty sure they’re connected.” Sarcasm drips copiously from his tone and you wince. Way to make a good first impression on the director of the FBI. “And it’s not a man. It’s a woman.” 
This makes you perk up with interest. “Oh?” As a profiler for a branch of the FBI in Miami, you’ve handled your fair share of serial killers. It may make you sound insensitive, but you were only really interested in the female ones. Men were so boring and predictable. Women knew how to make it a challenge, and there was always some deep, underlying motive for why they did it. There was nothing you enjoyed more than piecing together that puzzle. 
“They’re calling her The Witch. The poison used on the victims is like nothing we’ve ever seen before, so we think she must be making it herself. But since female serial killers are kind of your thing–” 
You cut him off before you can think twice, thoughts whirling through your head. “How do you know it’s a woman? Cutting out a heart, that takes a lot of strength. Most female serial killers tend to use gentler methods, like poison, so it makes sense that there’s at least one woman involved. Are you sure she isn’t working with someone though? Lavinia Fisher would poison her victims and then her husband would finish the job.” 
“How quickly can you get to Westview?” He asks, completely ignoring your question. 
“Oh, you want me to go there?” 
He scoffs. “Yes, Agent, we want you to go there. I’ve already informed your boss and he’s given his approval. No one has been better at catching the female killers than you, so we really need you on this. You can take the Miami jet as soon as you’re ready, but they want you there as soon as possible.” 
“Will I be working with the Trenton branch?” 
“Just the Westview PD for now. They’ve assured us that they have their best detectives on the case. But if you need backup, let us know and we can send in some more profilers. Whatever it takes to bring this woman to justice.” He hangs up without another word and you grab your to-go suitcase that you keep packed for times like these. You throw in a few extra sets of clothes just in case it takes longer than expected, and then you’re out the door, driving to Headquarters. 
You walk into your boss’s office and knock on the door. The director of the Miami branch, Tony Stark, looks up at you. “Hope you packed some warm clothes,” he says and you chuckle. You definitely did not.
“Hayward said I could take the jet?”
Tony nods. “It’s out back and already fueled up. Good luck, kid. Be careful, okay?” 
You scoff. “Careful? I’m always careful.” He fixes you with a stern look and you acquiesce. “I promise.” 
“I don’t need to remind you what happened last time you worked on a case like this, do I?” 
It hits you like a punch to the gut and you shake your head. “No, sir, you do not.” But you know he’s going to tell you anyway. 
“That woman destroyed you,” he hisses. “You got so focused on finding her that you stopped eating and sleeping. The obsession completely consumed you.” 
“I caught her, didn’t I?” You mutter, knowing full well that isn’t his point. He slams his hands down on his desk and you jump. 
“She almost killed you,” he almost yells and your face twists at the memory. 
The Scarlet Killer terrorized Miami about three years ago before you finally brought her down. At first, she would sneak into houses of families with twins and slit the parents’ throats and kidnap the kids, but the twins would always resist so she would end up killing them too. 
After a while, she stopped caring about the twin aspect and started killing anyone with children. 
You had spent days in the office, pacing and pouring over the evidence board, trying to make sense of it. There was no DNA anywhere, but there was also no sign of forced entry, so you figured that she was invited into the house somehow. The hunt for children made you think she had lost her own, or had some sort of abusive childhood that made her want to protect kids. She was possibly a twin as well, and very amicable if people were having her over willingly. 
It took two months before you figured out the perimeter of her murders. She was making a hexagon shape with the houses of the victims. Hexagons can represent balance, so you figured she felt as if she was balancing out some score with the universe for something that had happened to her. 
And then one fateful night, you realized where her next target was. A family had just moved into a house perfectly on the border of the hex, as people around the office started calling it, and they had twins. 
You spent almost an entire week camped out in front of their house waiting for the Scarlet Killer to strike. You think during that time, you slept a total of ten hours. Hallucinations plagued you and you would doze off and then wake up babbling something about catching her. Agents would bring food by your car and beg you to take a break, but you kept your eyes strained on the house, determined that you wouldn’t let her get away with it again, determined to prove that you were right about where she’d be.
And you were. 
Except the knocking that should’ve been on the front door of the house, the knocking that would inevitably lead to more death, was on your car window. 
You had jolted awake to find a redheaded woman standing there, looking worried. You opened the door and got out to help her when she had pulled a knife out and stabbed you in the stomach. 
Thank god she didn’t go for her usual M.O. of slitting throats. 
You were able to weakly unholster your gun and take a shot at her as she was running away and by the yelp, you knew you had hit her. A consolation prize as your vision faded to black. 
Somehow, you woke up two days later in a hospital room, Director Tony Stark by your bedside. They had caught the killer a block away thanks to the appendix your bullet had ruptured that rendered her unconscious, a woman named Wanda Maximoff, who had lost her twins in a horrible house fire, and made it a mission to try and replace them.
And her knife had missed anything important, and all you had was a nasty scar and the weariness from everyone else whenever there was a new female serial killer to catch. 
“She didn’t kill me though,” you tell Tony, who rolls his eyes. “I’ll be careful. I won’t get too involved this time.”
He slides open a drawer and takes out a file and a business card that he holds out to you. You reach across the desk to grab the two and you scan the card. 
Rio Vidal, Therapist, Westview. With an email and phone number. 
You hold it up and raise an eyebrow. “You want me to see a shrink?” You already completed your mandated fifteen hours of therapy after the Maximoff incident and you weren’t eager to go back. 
“You don’t have to, it’s just so you have an option. In case you feel yourself becoming too ‘involved.’” 
You purse your lips but you slip it into your pocket and tighten your grip on the file. “Guess I’ll see you whenever we catch her.” 
He salutes you and you make your way to the jet out back. 
It’s a three hour flight and you spend your entire time pouring over the case file. You know there’s still some information that you’ll have to get from the Westview PD, like witness statements and exclusive photos that haven’t been released yet, but what you do have is brutal. 
Photos of shriveled up bodies with barely any skin still on their bones, their cheeks hollowed out, like something sucked the life out of them. Not to be sexist, but you can tell why Director Hayward thought it was a woman. 
Although there’s a gaping hole in their chests where a heart used to be, the cuts are neat, precise. And the blood has been completely cleaned up. What should be the bloodiest crime scene you’ve ever seen is void of any fluid, like the killer methodically mopped and bleached and cleansed the scene of everything. But this also means that the victims are dead before the heart is cut out, from the poison. 
The most chilling thing is the singular, perfect flower placed in the cavity of their chest.
You flip through the toxicology reports but can’t really make sense of anything. One report says one chemical was the cause of death, another report says another. The levels of chemicals in the bloodstream are also different from victim to victim. 
It reminds you of Jolly Jane Toppan, who would experiment with different medicines and chemicals to murder patients at hospitals. 
Is the killer a nurse? A chemist? You’re able to figure out why she’s called The Witch, because it’s like she’s brewing up potions of sorts, but you have no idea why she would bother cutting their hearts out if she’s killing them with poison. 
The precision of the blade also means that her hands are steady. Another reason she could be a nurse. 
You flip through the pictures of all the victims – eleven, so far – and the first victim’s cut is just as accurate as the last victim. This woman is either a natural, or this isn’t the first time she’s killed. 
Pulling out your computer, you search the database for any serial killer cases that match this same type of crime, male or female. You’re still not entirely convinced she’s working alone. 
But there’s nothing. No cold cases, no open cases. She has truly shown up out of nowhere. 
You tap your fingers to the tray table, your mind trying to make sense of the details for the rest of the flight. 
When the plane lands, you’re ushered into an uber and taken to the motel where you’ll be staying. Your rental car is already in the parking lot. Even though Westview is a small town, it means a lot that they’re giving you all these accommodations. 
Your room is complete with a kitchenette, a queen sized bed, and a good sized bathroom. You drop the files on the table, throw your suitcase in the bedroom, and grab your work bag before locking the door behind you. 
The rental car is a small sedan that has a strange smell, but it does the job and you drive through the quaint twisting roads to get to the police station. You park up front, take a deep breath, and walk in. 
No one stops you or asks what you’re doing here (no wonder this case hasn’t been solved yet) so you make your way to the back where you find the Chief’s office. 
He’s a skinny man with a mustache, spots of something that looks like mustard on his shirt, talking to a woman with her back to you. All you can tell is that she has long, dark hair that flows down your back.
“Hi, excuse me?” You say, knocking on the glass door. The Chief stops and the woman turns around to face you and you’re momentarily struck by how attractive she is. “I’m Agent Y/N? The, uh, criminal profiler from Miami? The FBI sent me to help with The Witch case.” 
“Oh, shoot, that’s right,” the man says, wiping his hands on his jacket before standing up. “Chief Phil Jones. This is Detective Agatha Harkness–” He motions to the woman standing there who smiles knowingly, raking her eyes up and down your body. “– our best. She’s been working this case day and night.” 
“Any leads so far?” You ask her. 
“Why don’t I show you what we have so far?” She offers and you nod, following her out of the office and trying not to look at her ass. She takes you into  a different room with a bulletin board filled with pictures and string and post-it notes. You squint at it, trying to take everything in, while you hear more people enter the room behind you. 
“So, Miami, what do you think?” A man taunts and a few others snicker at him. You ignore him, you’ve been used to this your entire career. 
You’re still scanning the board when something catches your eye. The witness statements. They don’t corroborate with each other. From the six people that have seen something, they all agree that the killer had dark hair. But some say it was long, others say just past her shoulders. Some think she was taller and lean, others say shorter and just a little more filled out. There’s a detail from two witnesses that gives you pause though: they say the woman had a mask of sorts on the bottom of her face, almost like a skeleton. The other witnesses make no mention of not being able to see the killer’s entire face. 
You tap the papers. “Why don’t the statements line up?” 
“Surely you know how unreliable eyewitness testimony is,” Agatha drawls, and when you turn around, she’s watching you carefully. 
You frown. “I do know, but it seems like there’s two different people here. So either we have a copycat, which would be unlikely due to there being no change in the level of detailedness from murder to murder, or–” You trail off, chewing on your lip. You’re waiting for someone, Agatha maybe, to finish the sentence, or to tell you you’re being crazy. 
“Or?” She prompts like she’s daring you to go on. There’s a look in her eyes, a look you don’t quite recognize. 
You give the men in the room a glance. Will they laugh? “I really think we’re dealing with two killers here. Working together. One poisons the victims, the other cuts out the heart. I thought it was a man and a woman, but it seems like two women. They’re obviously very close to each other, and they’ve got it down to an easy routine.” 
“Why hasn’t anyone seen two women then?” Agatha asks, but you feel like she’s just guiding you to a realization, rather than criticizing your theory. 
You hum, tossing the question around in your head. “Maybe…maybe because they want us to think there’s only one killer? They’ve fooled everyone, even the FBI. Easy to chalk it up to faulty witness statements.” 
“Why wouldn’t they try to look alike then?” Agatha presses, and your brow furrows. It’s a good point. 
The pictures of the mutilated victims on the board stare back at you while you look for anything you could’ve missed. “Are they toying with us? Do they want us confused? The poison, the cut-out heart, the flower left behind, the different descriptions, it’s like this is a game to them. They’re cocky, they feel confident that they can’t get caught. Maybe both of them are narcissists, but definitely are on the Antisocial Personality Disorder spectrum.” 
“Why do you think they do it?” Agatha says in a hushed voice. You can’t help but notice that she seems excited. 
Is that because she finally might be getting a break in her case? 
“I don’t know,” you admit and she looks disappointed. You spin to face the board again. “There’s no obvious connection or pattern between the victims, so it doesn’t seem like there’s a personal vendetta against them. Nothing stands out about the locations either. It seems like they’re just killing for fun, right now.” 
“That’s pretty dangerous,” she says, and you can feel the front of her body brush against your back. You’ve been so entranced that you didn’t even hear her notice her coming over. “That means anyone could be next.” 
Goosebumps spread over your body at her hot breath on your neck, but her words sober you up. She’s right. You’re not able to rule out potential victims based on how many kids they have or don’t have, like with Wanda, or what they look like or don’t look like. 
“Okay,” you say, nodding your head. “We need to send out a BOLO for two women with dark hair now. Put these descriptions out, tell them to keep an eye out for a skeleton mask? Hopefully we can get some tips and put a stop to this before anyone else gets hurt.” 
“What should we call the other woman?” One of the male officers speaks up and you’re surprised that it’s an actual question. 
Agatha watches you with interest while you think about it. “How about…Lady Death?” You offer and she gives a nod of approval. “Put a BOLO out for Lady Death and The Witch.” 
You make copies of everything that’s on the board and paper clip them together to put in your bag. As you’re packing everything up to go back and leave to the motel (Tony would be proud of you for leaving the station at an acceptable time), Agatha comes over and leans on the table. 
“What do you think their relationship is? Lady Death and The Witch,” she says, amusement lacing her tone when she says their nicknames. 
You shrug. “Sisters, friends, wives? Maybe they’re just two crazy people who met each other and want to kill people.” She chuckles and studies you curiously. 
“You know, we’ve had some other profilers come in, but none of them have been like you. You know your stuff.” 
“Female serial killers are kind of my thing,” you say. “There’s just something about untangling the mystery that’s so much sweeter. Makes me feel…alive. Which I know sounds bad, because so many people have died, and I’m sorry.” 
Agatha looks like she knows exactly what you’re talking about. “No, don’t apologize. It’s exciting, isn’t it? The exhilaration, the moment when you finally get what you want, what you’ve been working toward.” Her voice is low and you nod, leaning in before you can realize what you’re doing. Your gaze drops down to her smirk and then back to her blown-out pupils. “Do you think you’ll be able to find them?” 
“Yeah, I do,” you breathe, and she looks positively delighted. Out of nowhere, the scar on your stomach stings and you grimace. Agatha looks at you, concerned but you brush it off. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You ask, standing up and slinging your bag onto your shoulder. 
“See you then, superstar,” she says with a grin and watches you leave. 
When you get back to the motel, you spread all the pictures and notes out, trying to connect some dots. You scribble down Friends? Sisters? Lovers? on a sticky note and press it to the wall. 
Why do you think they do it? Agatha’s question still haunts you. You don’t want to believe that it’s just for fun, there has to be some meaning, some motive for poisoning and then physically removing hearts. There has to be some significance to the flower left behind. 
But what is it? 
Your stomach grumbles so you decide to take a step back and go pick up food from a restaurant in town. As you’re pulling out of the parking lot to come back to the motel with wings and french fries, you get a call from Tony Stark. You accept it, taking a sip from your cup quickly. 
“Hey, Director,” you say. 
“There she is! How’s it going?” 
You shrug even though he can’t see you. “Not too bad. Just went and got dinner. See, I’m taking care of myself.” 
He laughs like it’s the funniest joke he’s heard. “Glad to hear it. Any new leads in the case?” 
“There’s two women, not one. They’re working together.” There’s silence on his end of the line for a second and you wonder if he heard you. “Did you–?
“Yeah, I got that. Shit, so you think you’re looking for partners? I don’t like this,” he says. 
“I’m okay, I promise. What happened with Wanda won’t happen this time,” you reassure him as you turn back into the motel lot. “I’ll check in with you whenever you want. I’ll go see that shrink. I’ll be careful.” You’re worried that he’ll pull you off the case if he thinks you’re too obsessed. Your hyperfixation tendencies almost cost you your life, and you know Tony doesn’t want that to happen to you again. He’s become somewhat of a father figure to you since you started working there, and it’s touching how much he cares.
He hums in satisfaction. “I expect you to eat three meals a day and get at least five hours of sleep.” Before you can protest, he continues. “And I want you to make an appointment with that therapist. Just get ahead of your spiral, maybe talking about the case with someone removed will help you be more level-headed.” 
“I will,” you vow. “Okay, just got back to the motel, I’ll talk to you later.” He says goodbye and hangs up. When you get out of the car with your food, the hair on the back of your neck stands up and your scar tingles. 
Something feels off. 
You get to your door to find it slightly ajar and you frown. You remember locking it. Maybe room service cleans at night? 
“Hello?” You call, pushing it open. Taking a few cautious steps into the room, you scan from wall to wall looking for anything or anyone.
There’s no one there, nothing seems out of place except for your suitcase that is now on your bed. You tentatively walk over to it and unzip it, jumping back like you’re expecting something to pop out. Inside, you find all the clothes you packed gone, and entirely replaced by a new wardrobe. Pulling them out, you gasp when you find cashmere sweaters and silky blouses and comfortable but professional looking pants. There’s a bottle of perfume with the word “Thanatos” printed in perfect calligraphy and you take a whiff. It smells like flowers and wood at the same time and it makes you think of a forest. 
So someone broke into your motel room just to give you some new clothes and perfume? You rustle through the rest of the suitcase and a piece of paper flutters to the floor. 
Heart pounding, you lean down to pick it up. It’s the same sticky note that you put on your wall before you left to get food. 
Friends? Sisters? Lovers? 
Only now, the word ‘lovers’ is circled, with a small heart drawn. You drop the paper like you’ve been burned and run over to where all your case information is and you feel nauseous. 
Nothing has been touched. Nothing is out of place. 
Except for the single purple azalea resting on the middle of the table. 
They were here. 
517 notes · View notes
theonottsbxtch · 2 months ago
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MY KINDA CRAZY | LN4
an: i was listening to do re mi by blackbear and i was just thinking about the concept of lando dating a driver who is just straight up insane but that's their dynamic.
wc: 3.4k
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Lando was lounging in his gaming chair, half-focused on his Quadrant stream, when he heard the sound of glass shattering in the distance. His gaze flickered, eyebrows furrowing as the noise registered. He glanced toward his mates on-screen, catching a few laughs over the headset.
“What was that?” Max asked.
He narrowed his eyes and leaned back, glancing over his shoulder toward the window. “Hang on a sec.” He muted his mic, got up and moved toward the source of the commotion.
He reached the edge of the window and peered outside—and there she was, standing beside his brand new black Ferrari, one of his precious golf clubs in hand, bringing it down on the windscreen with a satisfying crack. She looked wild-eyed, fearless, like she belonged right there, shattering his world with a smirk on her face.
He didn’t even have to look at the monitor to know his friends were watching his expression. After a pause, he unmuted the mic. “Uh, guys,” he said, exhaling a laugh. “I’ll be back in five.”
“Is that…?” Steven started. The rest fell into stunned silence, disbelief etched across their voices as he nodded, trying to suppress a grin.
“Bro, are you serious? You need to cut her off,” he heard Ethan say, as the sound of glass crunched through his headset again. They’re trying to talk him out of it, telling him how crazy this is, how she’s crazy. But he knows the truth—that they’re just as bad as each other, and he can’t imagine it any other way.
“I got it handled,” he assured them, already making his way downstairs. 
Lando stepped into the lobby, where the apartment security guards were trying—without much success—to talk her down. One of them looked up at him, relief flashing across his face. “Sir, do you want us to call the police? We’ll get her to leave.”
But he just shook his head, giving them a grin. “Nah. I’ll deal with her.”
Striding out, he reached her, catching her wrist just as she raised the golf club for another swing. She froze, looking up at him, and he could see the fire in her eyes, the way she was daring him to react.
He just grinned, leaning in close enough that she could feel his breath brush her cheek. Without breaking eye contact, he wrapped an arm around her waist and, in one swift motion, lifted her up and slinged her over his shoulder. She let out a yelp, then an indignant laugh, smacking his back with the flat of her hand.
“Put me down, you cunt!” she demanded, but there was a thrill in her voice he knew too well.
“Are you done having your moment, sweetheart?” Lando murmured, a teasing edge in his tone. He could feel her bristle, and could almost hear the smirk in her voice when she muttered, “Maybe.”
As he walked back inside, her breathless laughter filling the air, he slid his hand up the back of her thigh, just to hear her gasp. She wriggled against his shoulder, trying to hide the way her body was reacting, but he felt it—felt her melt under his touch, even as she clung to her defiance.
Once they were back inside, he let her down slowly, pressing her back against the wall. She glared up at him, but it was a look laced with something darker, something that has his pulse thrumming. He caged her in with his arms, leaning close enough to feel the heat radiating off her.
“You really thought that was gonna get a reaction out of me?” he murmured, voice low, teasing. She smirked, looking up at him through her lashes.
“Oh, it got a reaction,” she whispered, her fingers sliding down to his belt, tugging him closer.
For a moment, there was just the sound of their breaths, mingling in the charged air between them. Then he closed the gap, capturing her lips in a kiss that was hard and demanding, like they were daring each other to go further. She kissed him back fiercely, her hands twisting into his shirt, holding him as close as possible.
When they broke apart, breathless, he pulled back just enough to whisper against her lips, “Next time, try not to break the Ferrari.”
She grinned, unrepentant. “Can’t make any promises.”
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She stepped through the bathroom door, expecting things to be exactly where she left them. Instead, her eyes widen as she notices the vanity—completely empty, wiped clean. Her makeup, all of it, is gone.
She dropped her phone on the floor, her jaw tightening as she stormed through the apartment, finally finding Lando lounging on the sofa, casually scrolling through his phone as if nothing’s amiss.
“You didn’t,” she hissed, fists clenched at her sides. Lando looked up slowly, meeting her glare with an infuriatingly calm expression, one eyebrow raised.
“Oh, I did,” he said, tossing his phone aside and stretching his arms across the back of the sofa. “Figured you might like a fresh start. Maybe if you didn’t wear all that makeup, you wouldn’t be getting so much attention.”
Her hands balled into fists, but she didn’t look away. He watched the spark ignite in her eyes, that unmistakable fire that was both thrilling and a little dangerous. She took a slow step toward him, a mocking smile spreading across her face.
“You’re insane,” she said, voice low and deadly, but he only grinned, watching her like he was daring her to do something about it.
“Yeah?” Lando replied, leaning back and looking her over with a smirk. “But you go wild for it.”
She stalked closer, moving to stand over him, her hands braced on either side of his shoulders, forcing him to look up at her. Her voice dropped, almost a whisper. “That was my stuff, and you don’t get to decide what I wear.”
He let out a low laugh, his gaze unwavering as he reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering just a bit too long. “Then stop trying to get my attention by looking at every other guy,” he murmured, his voice soft but dangerous, his hand trailing down the side of her face, fingers brushing along her jawline.
“You think I’m looking at anyone else?” she breathed, leaning in close enough that her lips grazed his, teasing. Her hands slid up his chest, clutching his shirt as she lowered herself to straddle him, trapping him in place. “Trust me, sweetheart, when I want someone’s attention, I get it.”
Lando felt her heartbeat against his chest, fast and unsteady, betraying the anger simmering just under the surface. He grinned, his hands moving to her waist, pulling her closer until their bodies were flush together. His voice dropped down to a whisper, low and possessive. “Then prove it.”
She didn’t hesitate, her mouth crashing into his, all sharp teeth and rough edges, like she was determined to make him regret it. He returned the kiss with equal intensity, his grip tightening as he pulled her in deeper, like he was staking his own claim. They were tangled together, her hands gripping his hair as he pressed her closer, their breaths mingling in a haze of frustration and heat.
When they finally pulled back, gasping for air, Lando smirked, brushing his thumb over her swollen lip. “See? Much better.”
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When Lando walked in, the first thing he noticed was a mess of fabric strewn across the floor of the living room. The second? That familiar, smug defiance hanging in the air. His designer shirts—one after another—were lying in a pile, each one sliced clean through.
He let out a low, dark laugh, shaking his head as he picked up a piece of ruined silk. Of course she did this. Of course.
He followed the trail of destruction down the hall, where he found her sprawled on their bed, scrolling through her phone as if nothing was out of the ordinary. In her other hand, she was twirling a pair of scissors, the blade glinting as it caught the light.
He cleared his throat, and she glanced up, that innocent look in her eyes that he knew all too well. It was the look she gave right before she said something that’ll push every one of his buttons.
“Something wrong?” she asked, the corner of her mouth quirked up in a satisfied little smirk.
He stepped closer, holding up the tattered remains of one of his favourite shirts. “Oh, nothing,” he drawled, letting the fabric slip from his fingers. “Just wondering if you’ve got something you want to say.”
She gave a nonchalant shrug, returning her attention to her phone as she flicked through it lazily. “Thought I’d free up some space in your wardrobe. You never seemed to like those shirts anyway.”
He chuckled, watching her with narrowed eyes as he sat beside her on the edge of the bed, close enough that she had to look up at him. “And what if I told you that those were my favourites?” he murmured, reaching out to take the scissors from her hand, his fingers brushing her skin just a moment too long.
She tilted her head, her smirk widening as she let him take the scissors, her eyes flicking to his with that bold, unyielding spark he can never resist. “Then maybe you should take better care of your things,” she said, voice low and sweet, laced with mock innocence.
He let out another laugh, setting the scissors aside, his hand lingering on her thigh as he leaned in, close enough that he could feel her breath hitch. “And what am I supposed to do with you, hmm?” he asked, his fingers brushing slowly up her leg, tracing light circles that sent a shiver through her.
She raised her chin, meeting his gaze with a challenging glint. “Maybe you should take better care of your things,” she said again, her tone daring him to react. Her fingers trail up his chest, her touch feather-light, barely there, but enough to send heat coursing through him.
“Careful,” he whispered, voice dropping as he moved his hand up to cup her face, his thumb tracing along her cheek. “Keep this up, and I might have to show you what happens when you mess around this much, sweetheart.”
She leaned into his touch, her lips curving into a wicked smile. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want.”
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She was exhausted, every muscle aching as she finally made it back to their apartment building after a gruelling day of training, it was hard to keep up with Max sometimes. She was only thinking about a hot shower and maybe collapsing into bed, but when she slid her keycard into the lock, nothing happened. She tried again, frowning as she heard the familiar beep and saw the small red light flash, denying her access.
Frustrated, she let out a sigh and looked up, only to see Lando standing by the window on the second floor, leaning casually against the frame with a smirk stretched across his face.
“You trying to come in?” he called down, amusement glinting in his eyes as he watched her wrestle with the lock.
Her jaw tightens. She raises her voice, letting her irritation show. “Open the door, or I swear I’ll—”
He just laughed, leaning out of the window, entirely unbothered. “Sorry, sweetheart, but I had to revoke your access. Apartment is under my name, after all.” He paused, tilting his head as he looked her over, clearly savouring her frustration. “It’s just... you’ve been taking a few too many liberties lately.”
She scoffed, storming toward the front desk, where the concierge looked up, shifting uncomfortably as she approached.
“Can you open the door?” she demanded, her voice sharp with exhaustion and irritation.
The concierge frowned apologetically. “I’m sorry, miss, but Mr. Norris" he hesitated, glancing up toward the smirking man in the window— “he’s requested that your access be restricted. I can’t let you in without his permission.”
Her fists clench at her sides, and she looks back up at him, glaring. He was still leaning against the window, arms folded, watching her with that smug, insufferable grin. She was just about ready to give him a piece of her mind when he called down, his voice lazy and laced with amusement.
“You know,” Lando said, “there’s a way you could get in. Just gotta say the magic word.”
She narrowed her eyes, arms crossing as she stared up at him. “You’re out of your mind.”
“Oh, come on.” He shrugged, feigning innocence. “A little begging never hurt anyone.” He grinned, tilting his head mockingly. “Or are you too proud? Red Bull’s Princess can’t say please?”
She bit back a retort, anger simmering under her skin. But the day had worn her down, and the idea of spending the night locked out was even worse than giving him what he wanted. She let out a sigh, glaring at him with a look that could kill.
“Please,” she said, voice strained, her jaw clenched tightly.
He cupped a hand to his ear, grinning wider. “Didn’t quite hear that.”
She let out a frustrated growl, swallowing her pride as she raised her voice, forcing herself to repeat it. “I said, please,” she grit out, hating every second.
But Lando only shook his head, laughing softly to himself. “Not quite enough, darling. You’re going to have to try a little harder than that.”
Her eyes narrowed, fury blazing in her gaze as she glanced around, making sure no one else beside the concierge was listening before she took a deep breath. She fixed him with a look, voice dropping lower, softer. “Please… let me in.”
For a moment, he just watched her, savouring every word, every hint of frustration in her eyes. And then, finally, he relented, nodding to the concierge with a satisfied smirk.
The door unlocks, and she strode in, tossing one last glare up toward him as she headed up to their apartment, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten in the wake of her frustration.
When she reached the door, he was waiting there, arms crossed as he leaned against the frame, still looking far too amused for her liking. She stormed past him, but he caught her wrist, stopping her just before she could slip away.
“Glad to see you can be reasonable,” he murmured, his voice low, laced with amusement as he pulled her closer.
She rolled her eyes, tugging her hand free, but he didn't let her go, his grip firm, challenging her as he leaned in close, his breath warm against her skin. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Don’t push it,” she muttered, but there was a hint of a smirk on her lips, her irritation melting into something warmer as he slid an arm around her waist, pulling her against him.
“Oh, I plan to,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple, savouring the way her resistance softens, just a little, under his touch.
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Lando was out at the bar with Max, Charles and Oscar, a half-empty glass in his hand, when his phone buzzed on the table. Glancing down, he noticed it was his bank calling. He frowned, picking it up with a raised eyebrow.
“Hello?”
“Hi, sir, this is a courtesy call from Credit Mutuel. We just wanted to confirm a recent transaction—3,600 Euros from Versace? We wanted to make sure it was authorised.”
He let out a quiet chuckle, immediately picturing her wandering through the store, swiping his card without a second thought. Of course, she would do that.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” he said, trying to hide his amusement. “Go ahead and approve it.”
He ended the call, slipping his phone back into his pocket, just as his friends gave him questioning looks. Charles leaned in, a grin already spreading across his face. “3.6K at Versace? Who’s racking up that kind of charge?”
He shrugged, smirking as he picked up his drink. “My girl. Guess she decided to go shopping.”
They exchanged looks, half-amused, half-incredulous. Max whistled low, shaking his head. “You’ve gotta be kidding. She’s really that bold?”
“Bold?” Oscar chimed in with a laugh. “She’s insane. You really need to put a stop to that.”
He just raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “What, and miss out on all the fun?”
“Man, she’s gonna drain you dry,” Oscar said, shaking his head. “You need to cut her off.”
He took another sip of his drink, the thought not even crossing his mind. “Nah. She’s my type of crazy.”
They all looked at him like he’d lost his mind, but he didn't care. She kept him on his toes, always a little unpredictable, a little wild—and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“You’re out of your mind, man,” Max said, chuckling. “No one’s worth that kind of chaos.”
“She’s your teammate, put respect on her name.” Lando quipped, his voice light but a slight bit of truth to it.
“Teammate or not. Kelly spent 3k in Versace? I'm asking her dad to pay me back.”
He just laughed, his gaze drifting toward the door as if he half expected her to show up, Versace bags in hand and that signature defiant look on her face. “Eh this is what keeps it interesting.”
Hope you bought something nice for me to rip off tonight x
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The Singapore night lights gleam across the track as the roar of the crowd echoed through the air. Lando managed to bring the car to first place. It was a win that put him further ahead in the World Drivers' Championship—closer to clinching the title that both she and him were battling for. She’d just come in third, and he knew she’d be furious about the gap widening, about him taking both the sprint and the race.
He was basking in his victory, the top step of the podium all his, the adrenaline still coursing through him, as he turned to celebrate with the other two drivers on the podium. But he couldn't ignore the tension in the air. She was standing just a few feet away, third place still sitting uncomfortably on her shoulders, the gap between them widening with each race.
Her jaw tightened as she grabbed a bottle of champagne, shaking it quickly in her hand, she slammed it on the top step of his podium, his signature celebration. And she watched.
She watched as it hit his trophy, knocking it from the podium. The silver gleamed for a split second before it crashed to the ground, the base shattering in a shower of sparkling fragments.
She stood there, blinking for a moment, watching as the trophy’s broken pieces settled at their feet, her champagne bottle still in hand, the remnants of the cork still floating in the air like confetti. Slowly, she turned her eyes to him, that familiar, defiant glint sparking in her gaze.
“Whoops?” she said, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as if she couldn’t care less about the broken trophy—or the effect it’s had on him.
He stood there for a moment, shock flashing across his face. But it was quickly replaced with a grin. He chuckled, shaking his head, his eyes never leaving hers.
Without thinking twice, he stepped off his podium, the world blurring around him as he strides over to her. Her eyes widened in surprise as he reached out, his hand slipping under her jaw, tilting her face up to his. For a heartbeat, the noise of the crowd faded, the lights dimmed, and it was just the two of them locked in a silent battle of wills.
Then, before she could react, he pulled her in, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that was both possessive and challenging, a reminder of the victory that was still fresh on his lips. She was stiff at first, her fists clenching by her sides, every bit of her resistance radiating through her. But then, just as he was about to pull away, her grip relaxed. She let out a shaky breath against his lips, and suddenly she was kissing him back, just as fierce, just as unapologetic.
The world erupted around them in a chaotic mix of cheers and gasps, but they were lost in the heat between them. Charles, grinning like he was witnessing the best drama of the year, stepped forward with his bottle and sprayed them both, champagne splashing across their faces, soaking their race suits.
They broke apart, gasping for air, champagne dripping down their faces, but neither of them stepped back. He was grinning, that familiar arrogant smirk, knowing he had pushed her, made her break her carefully guarded composure right in front of everyone.
“You’re still behind, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice low enough that only she could hear. “Better step it up.”
She narrowed her eyes, her lips twisting into a smirk of her own. “Keep pushing your luck,” she replied, voice dripping with challenge. “I’ll catch you sooner than you think.”
He let out a quiet laugh, raising his champagne bottle in a mock toast. “Looking forward to it.”
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She was standing in front of the press, still in her race suit, a mischievous gleam in her eyes as the interviewer approached her, mic in hand. The buzz in the room was all too familiar—she’d been the talk of the circuit all season, and tonight, after the “accidental” destruction of his trophy, they were all eager to get her take on it.
“So,” the interviewer started, grinning as he raised an eyebrow, “quite the, uh, performance on the podium. How are you feeling about, well… breaking Lando’s trophy?”
She shrugged, her expression as cool and collected as ever. “Not my trophy, not my problem,” she replied, smirking as a few people in the crowd let out quiet chuckles.
The interviewer laughed, but he was clearly fishing for more. “Rumour has it that he wasn’t exactly thrilled about it. Are you worried there might be… consequences?”
Her smirk widens, and there was a dangerous glint in her eyes as she leaned just a bit closer to the mic. “Oh, it’s fine. I’ll just get punished at home,” she said, her voice dropping to a playful whisper as she glanced directly at the camera. “If you get what I mean.”
The reaction was immediate—the interviewer’s eyes widened, the crowd let out a collective gasp, and the director frantically signalled for the camera to cut the feed. But before they manage to turn it off, her laugh echoed through the speakers, rich and unapologetic, leaving the whole room buzzing with her brazen, unfiltered confidence.
As the screen went black, she tossed the mic back to the interviewer with a wink, giving the camera one last look before she strutted off, knowing she’d left them with more questions than answers—and loving every second of it.
the end.
1K notes · View notes
komelliko · 2 months ago
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manipulative!boss!sunday x timid!secretary!reader
summary: Sunday wants to invite you to dinner. ...Correction: Sunday will invite you to dinner. Even if there are a few loopholes to get through first. wc: 1.1k
part 1 / part 2
---
Sunday finds it quite unfortunate that the salvation of the world must sometimes be assured through cruelty. It wounds him when he must be cutthroat, must be stern in his ways, but he does it all the same. Even the gravest of sins shall be absolved in the eternity of the dream he chases, and Sunday knows no man to enact this sin besides himself.
...In short, manipulation is no stranger to the head of the Oak Family.
You're nearly tripping on your heels again when your boss runs into you, lighting up at your presence in a way you have to decidedly ignore. It's unprofessional to dwell on it—You hate even the notion of being unprofessional. After all you've worked towards, every hour you've busted your ass off to get to work as secretary for one of the most important people in Penacony, the thought of ruining it by being unprofessional makes you want to fill a bathtub with SoulGlad and let yourself drown in it.
"Good morning, Mr. Oak," you greet him, once he's within speaking range. There's a million papers and manila folders in your arms, all cobbled together with clips and staples, and you hold them at your chest almost like a sort of shield. Hours upon hours of your work rests within this stack of papers, thousands of words worth of reports and number-crunching and printed out messages between Family Heads. Sunday makes a point to look you right in the eye, and it's a gaze you swear you'll never get used to.
You don't know what the look in his eyes mean—Sunday takes great pleasure in keeping the meaning from you.
There's a plenty good amount of things he prefers to keep to himself (as is only proper for someone of his responsibility), and the images his mind likes to conjure only flip past like cards in a rolodex as he sneaks a glance at the body hiding behind the papers. He smiles, but not any bigger than he would smile to anyone else. Not yet.
"Good morning, [Y/N]," Sunday coos. "Working out of the office as usual, I see? Please, if there's any reason for you to avoid it I must know."
Flush with embarrassment, you shake your head. It's just easier to make sure everything gets done when you're always walking, you find. You hate being kept places, being forced to sit and hear the second-hand of a clock constantly chatter behind your back. When you're walking, your heels set the pace instead, at whatever you need it to be. You're only indebted to your own ethic, which you hold in high regard.
"Oh, the office is perfectly fine, Mr. Oak," you stammer out, fingers drumming on the stack of papers. "I just like the stained glass on some of the third floor hallways of Dewlight. The, uh— The fountains add a nice atmosphere, too." You panic, adding "It's a really wonderful building, sir. I'm honored to work here."
Sunday nods. He'll have to order for new windows and a fountain to be put in his office the second the moment arrives. A meeting with Whittaker Nightingale was in order, clearly—He'd understand the situation.
"Please, dear, if anyone here should be honoured it's me," Sunday smiles. He passes to stand beside you rather than in front of, catching a glimpse of the way your hair falls over your shoulders. "Can I discuss something with you for a moment, if you'll allow?"
Sunday takes the initiative to place one hand on the small of your back, the other clasped behind his own. The touch makes you flinch—You grab tight onto your papers, hoping they won't spill out in a burst from the way you nearly jumped in place. "Gosh, Mr. Oak, I don't really think this is necessary—" On the outside, his face is stern, perhaps even disappointed with your tendencies to act like a stickler. Internally, he's more concerned with how often you spurn his affections: At his core, however? He wants to hold his hand against you until he dies.
"Please," he whispers, almost commanding you. "Walk with me." Sunlight streams in through the windows of the Dewlight Pavilion, pockets of gold dancing on the marble floors.
"You've gotten in touch with the Alfalfa family, as I requested?"
Panicking, you leaf through the papers you had kept clutched to your chest to search for any notes or documents relating to that. Unfortunately, your anxieties are valid: You did not. Sunday doesn't let on that he's lying to you. He asked you to reach out to some bureaucrat working for SoulGlad, but nothing to do with Oti or any of the Alfafas. But you're forgetful, and he loves that about you. Not as much as he values your eagerness to please, though.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Oak. It must've slipped my mind." You spent the whole day organizing the catering for the Charmony Festival, and your papers corroborate this.
"Please, I could never fault you," he smiles. "It'll be taken care of tomorrow."
Sunday bites his lip as he feels the back of your shirt brush against his hand. If he was any less of a man with any less of a reputation to uphold, he'd have it comfortably in the back pocket of your pants. He goes on, to get to the real purpose of this informal meeting with you.
"Would you be interested in discussing things over dinner?"
Your breath stalls for a moment.
"I— I'm sure sending today's report electronically should be just fine, sir."
Sir. It's a word he's been addressed by many lips, but every utterance pales in comparison to this singular moment.
"It would be my pleasure."
"I'm not sure I even have anything that would suit the occasion," you confess.
"I can arrange for something to be sent to you."
A particular nausea pools in your gut: a feeling so light, so painlessly ignorable that even worrying that it's gas feels like an overreaction. Meetings over dinner are professional, and at a rank like Sunday's, it's entirely reasonable that you conform to a certain dress code—one that he knows much better than you, no doubt. Sending something for you to wear would only be logical if it meant preserving that image of his.
(And he had been peculiar about dress in the past: No heels could be too tall or too short, pants were preferred but knee-length skirts were permissible, Oak insignia patches visible on every blazer, such and the like. Surely, this was nothing new.)
"If you find that to be within your purview, Mr. Oak," is what you manage to respond with. "...I'll make myself presentable."
"Don't fret too much over it, [Y/N]," Sunday smiles. "I fully trust in your abilities to uphold our reputations." 'Our'.
You force yourself to not dwell on it.
---
A/N: If anyone has feedback, please share it with me!! Obviously some artistic license has to be made for the premise to work but hopefully it's nothing too egregious :,)
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pickingupmymercedes · 2 months ago
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That girl (woman) - Lewis Hamilton
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Part of 1K Jukebox Event
song: That girl - Olly Murs
pairing: Husband!Lewis Hamilton x Reader!
genre: fluff
a/n: tried a little something different with the pov and the narrative, let me know what you guys think.
wordcount: +1k
As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!
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It was a regular Wednesday mid-autumn, the kind of quiet morning in the Hamilton household that felt precious in its ordinariness. Lewis sat at the edge of their bed, balancing a tray loaded with her favorite redberry pancakes and a fresh bouquet perched precariously on the side table.
Before we dive deeper, let me share a little secret about Lewis. He’s a legend on the track—speed, skill, mind, the whole package. But there, in their Monaco apartment, watching his wife sleep soundly as morning eased into afternoon, he was just a man.
And as he gazed at her with a strange mix of tenderness and a touch of guilt, it was clear he was reflecting on what he nearly threw away once.
You see, Y/n hadn’t been just any woman in his life. She’d been a force, a renowned stylist, beloved by many. And Lewis, in a past he now could only shake his head at, had once thought he was doing her a favor by pushing her away.
He’d believed that she deserved someone less weighed down by a career that dragged him across continents, with fame that threw him, and her by default, under every public spotlight.
So, in a moment of misguided self-sacrifice, he’d told her she deserved better. Needed to leave him, he’d said, so she could find someone who could give her the life she deserved.
But she’d seen through his words. She’d planted herself firmly in his life and told him, in no uncertain terms, that if he truly wanted her gone, he’d have to make the effort to really let her go.
He hadn’t, of course— couldn’t. And now, there she was, their child growing inside her, still by his side.
Back in the bedroom that overlooked the Mediterranean Sea, Y/n began to stir, her dark lashes fluttering as she woke.
The sunlight had climbed high, a clear sign she’d overslept. Not that it was surprising. Lately, the exhaustion came in waves—pregnancy was starting to demand more rest from her.
She shifted slightly, her bump visible under the soft rise of his oversized T-shirt she’d claimed as sleepwear. Lewis smiled at that, too, how she’d taken so much of him as her own.
As Y/n stretched, blinking sleep from her eyes, she spotted Lewis there, looking all too pleased with himself, balancing that breakfast tray as if he’d been waiting an hour to make his grand entrance.
“Why, Sir. To what do I owe this royal breakfast treatment?” she asked, her voice still drowsy, as she raised an eyebrow playfully though she wore a faint smile.
“Oh, nothing much,” he said, setting the tray in front of her. But there was something about the way he lingered, how his eyes traced her face a bit longer than usual, and how his hand found its way to her bump, lightly brushing circles over her stomach.
She noticed it too, of course. Y/n’s gaze slid from him to the pancakes, to the bouquet of wildflowers he’d set down beside her. His hand was still there, fingers spreading, gentle against her skin.
She tucked into the pancakes, savoring the tart sweetness of the berries, though one eye was still on him. He was keeping quiet, which was unusual enough to make her pause, fork halfway to her mouth.
He didn’t speak, but his fingers had settled in, tracing softer circles on her tummy, as if trying to connect with their child through her skin.
“Alright, spill it, Hamilton,” she said at last, her eyes narrowing slightly with suspicion. She hadn’t missed the glances, the softer smiles, or how his usual self-assured charm was just a little off this morning.
He fumbled. Oh yes, THE Lewis Hamilton—six inches taller than everyone else when it came to confidence—stumbling on his words now as he looked back at her, gathering himself as if preparing to speak before a packed audience.
“It’s nothing. Really, I just…” he hesitated, clearing his throat. “I just wanted to thank you. For yesterday. For coming to the factory with me.”
Ah, yes, the visit. Y/n had been there at his side all day, chatting with engineers and mechanics, giving them warm smiles, sometimes asking the kind of questions that endeared her to the team.
She’d been there, even though they both knew she’d been exhausted—he’d seen it in the way she leaned against surfaces or rested a hand on her bump when she thought he wasn’t looking.
But she’s the kind of person who’d walk the extra mile without a second thought if it meant making him feel grounded
“Oh” She waved it off. “I just know it’s important for you to have your support system there. Besides, we’ll leave you alone to those visits for a while, after this one gets here.” She gave him a smile, and it was enough to make Lewis sit back, humbled and deeply, thoroughly grateful.
Because that’s the thing about Y/n. She didn’t just say the right things. She showed up. She showed him, again and again, that he was worth it to her.
When he’d told her to leave, thinking he was noble, sacrificing himself for her own good, she’d thrown it right back at him. Said if he wanted her gone, he’d have to be a man and make it happen. He hadn’t. And in not doing it, he’d made a choice just as firmly as she had.
He reached out then, brushing his fingers on her cheek, his hand lingering for a moment, as if memorizing her face.
Y/n, ever observant, took his hand, resting it over hers. She could feel the weight of everything unsaid—how his grip was just a bit tighter, his thumb brushing her knuckles in slow circles. Her eyes softened, and for once, he allowed himself to drop the pretense.
“I know I’ve said it before,” he started, his voice quiet. “But I don’t think I can ever say it enough. I’m grateful. For you, for our little one. For everything.”
She let out a small laugh, rolling her eyes. “Lewis, you don’t need to go poetic on me. I’m not going anywhere.”
He chuckled, but even then, there was a solemnity in his expression, an echo of the worry that had lived with him since that fateful night years ago when he’d tried to push her out.
He leaned in close, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering just long enough to let her know he was serious.
They didn’t need words, not really. She knew, and he knew she knew.
That’s the magic they’d always shared. She didn’t need a grand speech to understand that in the way he carried her breakfast in, the way he’d brushed her cheek, he was telling her a thousand times over just how lucky he felt.
For Lewis, that single kiss said everything he couldn’t.
They sat there in quiet contentment, her finishing the last of her pancakes, his hand tracing that rhythmic pattern on her bump again, as if communicating with their little one in their secret code.
“Now” she said, breaking the silence as she watched him circling his fingers on her belly “I need you to go. This mama’s got work, and so do you, unless you plan on spending the rest of the day like this.”
“Wouldn’t be the worst thing” he said, flashing a mischievous grin.
But he stood regardless, though he couldn’t resist stealing one more kiss. Because that’s also the thing about Lewis—he’d had a brush with losing her once, and he wasn’t about to let it happen again.
So there he was, savoring the sight of her, engraving this moment into memory. After all, being wrong about her had been the best mistake of his life.
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TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28
@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld
@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf
@priopp123 @strqirlhrts @hmmmmm-01 @bisexual-babygirl-mj @bebesobrielo
@hiireadstuff @f1-football-fiend
If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.
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theautisticwriter · 1 year ago
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Love Letters: Yandere! Hazbin Hotel characters X G/N Reader
Characters- Charlie Morningstar, Vaggie, Alastor, Angel Dust, Husk, Niffty, Sir Pentious, Lucifer Morningstar, Vox
Show- Hazbin Hotel
Genre- yandere, romantic
Summary- Mini love letters from your not so secret stalkers admirers!
Warnings- yandere themes, swearing, stalking, virtual stalking, threats, unwanted attention, delusional characters, mentions of planned kidnapping, pet names
Word count- 1.7k
Extra notes- Alastor’s part is platonic, he’s platonically in love with you!
key: n/n = nickname, y/n = your name, g/n = gender neutral
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Hi N/n!
Oh my gosh, it’s been so long since i’ve sent you a letter! I’m so sorry! The hotel has been sooooooooo busy! But don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you, how could I? You’re all I think about!
I’m excited to tell you i’ve been decorating your room at the hotel! Of course, when you come here you can redecorate if you wish to! Whatever makes you the happiest sweetie! Or, you could even share my room!
I can’t wait to come get you, I really do think you’ll like it here. We’ve all worked so hard to make this place as welcoming as possible, and you’ll warm up to the other residents and staff after a little bit of time! They can be a bit much at the beginning, but don’t worry your pretty little head, I wouldn’t put you in danger. The hotel is super safe, especially now that my dad is helping too!
Please write back, at least once? You haven’t responded to any of my letters, and Razzle told me you kept throwing them out ☹. Unless you use your trash can as extra storage, I’m not sure why all my letters keep ending up there!
Nevertheless, I’ll retrieve all the letters when you move in, and we can look through them together and reminisce about our adorable beginnings.
Yours truly,
Charlie Morningstar!! ༘⋆-ˋˏ
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Dear Y/n,
I understand that these letters started to freak you out, and that’s why I haven’t sent any in a while, but I felt like I needed to continue writing to you. It’s our only way of communication right now, so until you move into the hotel, this will have to do.
It’s hard to write down my feelings for you, I can’t ever seem to find the right words which must be why you didn’t understand that these are love letters. I’m not some creepy guy trying to kidnap you, I love you and want to finally bring you home as soon as possible.
Charlie is still working out the details of your stay, but she’ll be finished soon, I promise. Would you like your own room or to share mine? If you write back, we could discuss your personal preference towards the rooming situation?
You’ll get used to this, to us, soon enough. I have no ill intent towards you, I’m the only person in this shithole that actually cares about you and your safety. I can keep you safe, I can, I will.
I’ll see you soon, y/n.
Stay safe,
Vaggie
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Salutations, Dearest!
Aren’t letters just marvellous? Texting and calling is merely a phase, the “old fashioned way” as sinners call it, is the only correct way. It shows effort, thought and has a charm to it that this technology nonsense lacks immensely.
You’ll be with me soon, and once you are we’ll get rid of all your electronic devices. Radio will be enough to keep you entertained, I assure you my dear. It would be such a treat if you tuned into one of my broadcasts, since you are the only viewer I wish to listen. You could listen to me, whilst I watch you, how splendid!
As much as this hazbin hotel is doomed to fail, I do believe it is a safe residency for us to stay at for the time being. Your current accommodation is far too lacking in the security department, from personal experience, I can confirm it is quite easy to get inside. Of course, I can get anywhere you are no matter what you or anyone else tries to do, but I didn’t even have to try! That’s no good, now is it?
Don’t fret, my dear. All will be well once you’re under my official protection and guidance. Nothing will get in our way, you have my word.
The radio demon,
A̰̠̼͚̗̫̳ͥ͐̆̃̄͑̊̈̕͝l̳̤̲͗͆ą̺̝̺͚̔̔̄ş̴̠͓̞̹̀͋ͯ̀ͣͫ_̧̩t̺͈ͩ̎͒͒ͅơ̵̢̧̫͇̦̫͇̟̰̯̞̝̻͇͍̯̩͕̌ͪ̀͋ͧ͗̏ͥͥ̇ͦͯ͗̀ͫ̏̽̈̚͡͞r
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Hey, n/n!
You deleted all your socials, what gives?? You’re making me write letters now? I mean, i’m not against letters, they’re real romantic and shit, but dming you was so much easier babe. Was some fucker harassing you? I’ll torture the shit out of them, just give me a name toots.
Anyways, it’s not like it really matters, letters and texting, we’ll be SPEAKING in person pretty soon ;) I can’t wait to see that gorgeous face right in front of my (equally gorgeous) face. This face makes money baby, money that I can drown you in. Whatever you want, i’ve got you covered. Isn’t that exciting? Something to look forward to for you, besides living with me, which is a huge upgrade from your shitty house right now
Fat nuggets (our pet pig btw) can’t wait to meet you! He’s real cuddly, as am I, so don’t ever worry about feeling lonely with us here. Our room is filled with soft fluffy crap, all yours for the taking!
I’ll see you soon cutie,
Your Angel Dust 𓆩♡𓆪
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To Y/n,
This is a fucking hassle, writing letters, you know that? You need to quit whining and come down to this shitty hotel before I come bring you here myself. It’s not so bad here, once you get used to it. And the people are fucking annoying, but they mean well. Unlike those dicks you hang around with, I don’t trust them, and trust me, I can spot a prick with my eyes closed.
I’ve rented you a room in the hotel, next door to mine. I paid with my own fucking money, which I earned at this stupid bar, so be grateful. I could of bought a lot of booze with that cash, but I saved it up for you. Niffty cleaned it real nice for you, so stop taking so long. You have two more days before I start moving your shit.
Hate me all you want, it’s for your own good. People don’t often realise what they need, but I’m a bartender, I know people more than they think. And I know you more than anyone else.
Two days, y/n.
Regards,
Husker 𑁤
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Hihi!!!!!!!!
It’s Niffty! You know that though, right? Nobody else is sending you letters right y/n??!?!! Tell me they aren’t, tell me i’m the only girl in hell who’s sending you love letters!! Alastor said it’s the most romantic thing to do for someone sweet like you, so if anyone else is that means they like you! >:(((
I like you n/n! I like you more than anyone else does, I pinky swear it!!
Your house needs a clean, I came in last night through your window and did your kitchen real good, but then you woke up and I had to go :(( Your room at the hotel is sooo super clean, because I clean it every 3 hours to make sure there’s no bugs. I eat them for you, don’t worry n/n.
It’s gonna be sooo fun when you move in with me, we’re gonna do so much together! I’ve made you a crown too!!
Niffty :DDD
P.S, I hope you like the ant I stuck to the envelope, I picked him just for you!
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My beloved Y/n,
It has been far too long since we last corresponded, my sincerest apologises. How are you? I hope the answer is well, but how could you be without your prince beside you? I am restless without you as i’m sure you are without me. I’ll fix this little problem, not to worry! I am worthy of your affections, I’ll prove it to you til the end of my afterlife. Which is infinite! Because I am very brave, and incredibly powerful!
My attempts to join the overlords are not going as planned, but once again, do not fear my love! In a few years we shall rule side by side! My minions are excited to meet you, they will guard you with their pathetic little lives and answer your every call! Unless you asked to leave, they won’t let you do that, but you wouldn’t ask that! You’ll be happy with me, right?
Right?
Please I needyouineedyouineedyou
Haha, ignore that scribble! The eggs pushed my arm whilst I was writing.
I’ll see you soon my dearest,
Yours forever,
Sir Pentious (your future husband and future overlord)
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My Y/n,
How are you doing sweetheart? I’m doing great, yes, totally, I’m always great! I’m the king of hell! What’s there to be depressed about? Everything Nothing at all, everything’s perfect my end! It would be much better with you by my side however, what do you think? I think so.
I can give you anything you want, do anything you want, be anything you want! I can give you everything, and you can give me, well, you! Your hand in unholy marriage, your smile. Anything you want to give me, I’ll adore.
Sorry, that’s awfully sappy isn’t it? Do you like that sort of thing? I hope so, I hope you’re feeling valued by my words and my letters. I haven’t gotten one back yet, which is totally okay! You’re probables super busy, and that’s okay! You can tell me everything you want to when I bring you to my palace (that’s where we will live, it’s big, and very expensive, i’m rich by the way)
Anywho, my daughter needs my help today at her little hotel, so I’ll send this to you before I go. Charlie will love you, and you’ll love her. And me
Forever and always yours,
Lucifer (I’m a king by the way :P)
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N/n,
This letter in itself is a sign of how much I care about you, because I do not write letters to people. Throwing out all your electronics and the cameras I put in your house hasn’t helped your little rebellion. I’ll just have to get you sooner than planned, which isn’t a problem for me. I was hoping to court you for longer, but you’ve pressed my buttons sweetheart.
You were very thorougher with your search for all the tech in your house, you got everything. Which i’ll give you credit babe, is impressive considering how much I put in there. Who knew you were so smart? It’s almost cute, if it wasn’t so hopeless.
I’m not sorry for what’s to come, my methods aren’t moral but, hey, who the fuck is moral down here? I am sorry for the emotional distress you’ll endure, but it must be done. You’ll get over it, i’ll make sure of it.
By the time this reaches you, I’ll be outside. Make sure you answer the door for me, kay?
𝕍𝕠𝕩
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getthehexstrap · 1 month ago
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Hi! So, I have an idea for a Jinx x fem. I was thinking reader’s parents are meeting Jinx for the first time for Christmas dinner. They ultimately disapprove of Jinx, so reader leaves with her. Maybe, it could end with reader telling Jinx how much she loves her. You can totally play around with this if you want. Thanks for your time!
Not So Picture Perfect
Jinx x piltie!(fem)reader
omg i love this request, thank you!
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summary: jinx is meeting your parents for the first time at christmas dinner.
genre: a little angsty, fluff
warnings: arguing, cursing, stuck up parents.
a/n: it's been forever since i've written angst, bare with me... also, this was supposed to be posted tomorrow but i accidentally clicked the wrong button 😭
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"You know, I'm never really nervous but right now I feel like I need to run the other direction and hide." Jinx laughs softly as she scratches the back of her head.
The two of you are currently standing on the doorstep of your childhood home for Christmas dinner. She's dressed in a different attire than usual; a white, flowy button up that she stole from you, and a pair of black pants. Her hair is done in her usual braids and you only used a little bit of makeup as you thought she didn't even need it, but it made her feel better.
You grew up in Piltover, but as you got older you quickly realized you weren't fit for it, so you ventured down to Zaun where you met Jinx. Much to no one's surprise, your parents weren't too fond of that.
"You're going to be just fine, baby." You assured her, flattening the soft wrinkles in her shirt with a grin.
Your back automatically stiffened up straight at the sound of the door opening. "Y/n." Your mother addressed you, tone sharp as she eyed you and your... 'guest' down. "Mom, Hi." You smiled softly as you grabbed Jinx's hand. "I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Jinx."
Your mother's eyes glanced at the blue-haired girl beside you. "Yes, I've heard so much about you, Jinx." She spoke, looking the girl up and down once, turning on her heel. "Come in. Dinner is getting cold." You turned your head towards her with a sorry smile before squeezing her hand, and pulling her inside.
"So, Jinx; I've heard you... make things?" Your father questioned after a few moments of meaningless chatter. "Uhm, yes sir, I do." You could hear the nervousness in her voice. Your hand found its place on her thigh, rubbing soft circles with your thumb as you shot her a reassuring smile.
"And these things are?" He asks, taking a bite of his food. "Well, they're all different, ya'know?" She laughs softly, trying to lighten the mood. "She makes these beautiful trinkets." You smile, saving her before she tells them she makes bombs. She sends you a thankful smile in return.
Your mother clears her throat, dropping her fork and picking up her napkin. "Trickets?" You immediately heard the judgement in her tone as she spoke. "How peculiar." She snickers quietly, and your hand softly squeezes Jinx's thigh again.
"Don't worry about them, baby." You quietly mouth to her with a small smile before changing the topic.
"Y/n, may we speak to you in the other room please?" Your mother's voice rang behind you, grabbing your attention away from talking with Jinx by the tree. You give her a quick peck before following her to the other room, reassuring you'll only be gone a few moments.
"Yes?" You ask, crossing your arms as you reach the next room. "I think you two should... break things off." She says, placing her hands on her hips with a stern look. You scoff in return, shaking your head. "No." Your voice is just as stern as her face, and as you stand up straighter to meet her eye, you can see the shocked look in her face.
"No?" She questions you, eyes wide in anger. "How dare you—" "No, mom. How dare you! I'm not a kid, you can't tell me who to date anymore! You don't get to control who I can and can't love like you do everything else." You finally stick up for yourself, and you hear the gasps from both parents.
"You cannot speak to your mother like that young lady!" Your father chimes in, sticking his finger in your face as he gets closer. "Oh please! She's spoken to me the same way since I was 8 years old, it wouldn't kill her to be treated the same way for once." You roll your eyes before you feel a hand slap your cheek.
You scoff again, grabbing the now burning flesh with your hand before looking her in the eyes. "This is your last chance, Y/n. Break things off with that– street trash, and we can forget about this little outburst of yours. Or, you leave with her and you will get cut off." Your mother stared down at you with narrow eyes, with her jaw clenched in anger.
Tears began to well up in your eyes, but it wasn't because you were sad, no, it was just confirmation settling in. "Okay." You start, wiping your eyes once before standing up straight again. "Goodbye, then." You go turn to walk away when you see Jinx, standing in the doorway with an almost guilty look on her face as she picks at her fingers.
"You turn back around right now!"
You look back at your parents once more before walking towards Jinx and grabbing her hand. "Come on, we're leaving."
You pay no mind to the screaming voices of your mother and father as you walk out of your childhood home. "God, I fucking hate them." You mumbled under your breath.
"I'm really sorry." Jinx speaks up, though you can barely hear her. You stop walking and turn to face her, grabbing her face. "Baby, listen to me." You smile as you tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. You did nothing wrong, they're just a couple stuck up dicks who can't get their heads out of their asses." You like softly, stroking her cheek with your thumb.
"But they said—" "I don't care what they said. I want to be with you. You make me so happy, I love you, Jinx." Your eyes look into hers as you speak, and you can see the shock hit her when you say it.
"Wh—" She blinks slowly. "What?" It comes out in a whisper, not fully comprehending what was just said. "Y/n. You don't mean that. I'm not good for you– you should just go back." Jinx tries, beginning to walk away while shaking her head.
"Jinx! I don't care what they think. I don't care what anyone thinks. You're more than good for me, baby. I love you." You call out, trying to catch up with her but it's quickly replaced with a deep, passionate kiss as she spins around and her lips crash against your own.
The snow covers you both as you pull away. Jinx takes a breath, closing her eyes before opening them again with her own soft smile. "I love you."
You lean in to kiss her once more, this one quicker than the last. "Let's go home, baby." You kiss her cheek once as you lead the way back to your city.
"Home." She giggles. "I like that."
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this is so short and lowkey horrible im so sorry guys 💔 buttt, merry christmas and happy holidays 💋
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Our Little Love part eight - OT7 Mafia/Yandere au
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Mr Kim has a chapter all to himself of 6.8K words, please enjoy and PLEASE let me know what you think. Trigger warnings: manipulation, coercion, corruption, interrogation, mentions of murder and other crimes, swearing, jealousy, possessive yandere behaviour, fingering, orgasm denial, mirror sex, light choking. I am awful with warnings, please forgive me.
Namjoon wasn’t all that impressed with seeing the Chief of police visiting his cell, the syndicate boss was dressed too well to belong there, it was almost an eyesore. A glance to the camera, the normal red blinking light absent tells him all he needs to know. There were no eyes or ears to this conversation. 
“I thought I paid you to keep your men in line,” Namjoon says in lieu of greeting. “Was a bullet to the knee not warning enough for your dear Captain?”
“He wasn’t an issue when I spoke to him, the man was on leave!” the chief replied. “Your girl was the problem he-”
“Be very careful how you finish that sentence,” he advised with a deep angry rumble from his chest. “I am well aware who is at fault here, and regardless of what our little love does, she is never to blame.”
Chief Lee Soo-man only nods once, biting back his complaints.
“I asked you to sort out Kim Suho, I told you to keep him in check,” Namjoon growls. “Keeping your pockets full isn’t an act of charity Lee, it’s a purchase. I own you.”
“Yes sir,” he mumbles in response. “I assure you this arrest is just a formality, the case won’t stand once it’s revealed Detective L/n-”
The glare the man in the blazerless three piece suit gave him was enough to stop him in his tracks. Right, he couldn’t involve you in this, that was going to make things harder than they needed to be.
“What do you recommend then sir?” he asks when he finds his voice and wavering courage. 
Namjoon sighs harshly, and the Chief swears he can almost see smoke. 
“I want to be alone with my little love,” it’s not a request, the chief didn’t let the soft lilt of his fool him. 
“I don’t know how that would be poss-”
“I want-” Namjoon cuts in, unable to bear another second of this blithering idiot, “her to be the one to interrogate me. And I can trust you understand the rest.”
“Y-yessssir,” he stutters, not completely hearing the words between the lines, and that was clear enough on his face. 
“I want her alone, Sooman,” Namjoon repeats himself, if this were one of his men he would never have needed to. “I don’t want a single soul witness to what I’m going to do to her.”
Suho tugs you along by the arm, stumbling in his urgent pace, pulling you out of ear shot.
“We have a problem.”
“What problem?”
“I’m technically on health leave, brass says I can’t interrogate him,” he stares a hole into you as if his eyes were telling you the rest but you couldn’t understand.
“Okay so who’s replacing you?”
He huffs out a breath of air from his nose, knowing you weren’t going to like the command from way over his head.
Your heart beats hard in anticipation, why was he looking at you like that?
“As far as Brass are aware you were deep undercover,” Suho informs you slowly, deliberately, looking like he was about to tear your world to trash. He sighs, unable to get the words out.
“Suho what?”
“They want you to interrogate him,” he breathes, you think you’ve misheard him, but you know you haven’t.
Your world spins, you’re already shaking your head.
“I can’t,” you whisper, he knows full well that you can’t. “I resigned, I’m not a detective anymore.”
He sighs again, hesitation in his eyes. 
“I never processed it,” he confesses.
“Y-you di-”
“I couldn’t, I knew you would see reason, I knew you would come back,” he doesn’t let you process the shock, explaining himself quickly. 
“Suho I can’t I can’t,” you beg, the conviction you had to punish them now suddenly taking a back seat as fear overtakes you, “right now they believe I was deep undercover but he’s not going to let that-“
“Listen to me,” he interrupts you before you can fully submerge into a panic attack, taking your hand in his. “I’m going to be in the next room, as soon as he says anything that compromises you, I’ll turn off the cameras, okay?”
“But-“
You’re interrupted again when the door opens, both of you whipping your heads to see him being transferred by four officers to the interrogation room. His eyes find you, staring stoic holes into you before his gaze finds Suho’s hands comforting yours. The snarl of displeasure is brief but you definitely see it, and you can’t breathe.
Suho draws your attention back to him, tugging your hand softly.
“Do you trust me Y/n?” he implores you, eyes searching yours in a way that made Namjoon want to strangle him with the chains on his handcuffs. You look up at your Captain with such light in your eyes, a way you should never look at another man, and then you have the audacity to nod. 
You’ve done this a hundred times, if not more. So why were you hesitating at the door? Your hand on the handle, all you had to do was turn it and face the music but you couldn’t even manage finding your breath. 
Interrogation was a science, it was like riding a bike, you knew what you had to do, you had to command the room. It almost sounded like a joke, the worst one you’d ever heard. Command a room when Kim Namjoon was in it? 
The thought makes you hyperventilate. No, it wasn’t going to be easy but you could control what you could. You borrowed clothes from an old colleague, a skirt and blouse, simple but professional. Suho’s old blazer too, as if layers would protect you. You had splashed water on your face in the bathroom, using makeup from evidence to make yourself look presentable, composed. Your impromptu freshening up had meant you left the syndicate leader waiting for a long time, and it absolutely 100% was not because you were trying to kill time, it was to make him stew in the room, a technique you had used multiple times prev- who were you trying to convince? 
You needed to get this over with. 
Your face is impassive when you finally open the door, his gaze is on you immediately and you can feel a certain type of guilt and shame try to seep its way into you, but you push it down far enough that you can pretend it’s not there.
“Mr Kim Namjoon,” you greet him stoically.
“Detective L/n,” he returns, playing along with a small smile, as if seeing an old acquaintance after a long time. The way he addressed you shouldn’t cut you, logically it made no sense not when you’re the one that got him in the box, but it did. 
You approach the table he’s chained to, looking at the wood instead of his eyes as if he didn’t matter, or at least that’s how you wanted it perceived. Avoiding eye contact with the most dangerous man the whole country had ever come to know, meant you missed the way his stare moved to your clothes, particularly your blazer, recognising it was a man’s, and he could confidently guess exactly who it belonged to. Any friendliness on his face disappeared, he wanted to play games and now he just wanted to torture you a little, punish you for you actions. Patience, he tells himself, that would come later.
The file in your hands slaps the table as you throw it down, taking a seat opposite your boyfriend, a man you now convinced yourself you wanted behind bars. 
What do they say about a woman scorned? Namjoon thinks to himself, admiring the fire he could see burning underneath your skin, and though he knew he would feel the burn, he would welcome it. It was no secret that he had a fantasy about you interrogating him, he introduced the role play to the bedroom soon after your return to them but it lacked the flames of heat he could feel today. 
“Allow me to formally introduce myself,” you reply. “My name is detective Y/n L/n, I’ve been undercover at your… establishment for the past year and a half.”
“Is that right?” he barely suppressed his amusement but it didn’t phase you. Your professional head was on, this was just another criminal you had to put away, that was it. 
You open the file, sliding out photos of him that you had sent in as intel in your early days undercover as well as surveillance photos that Suho had taken since you were MIA. 
“Do you know who this man is Mr Kim,” you say, sliding the first of the photos to him.
“Can’t say I do detective,” he shrugs nonchalantly, not even glancing away from you. 
“Do you want to try looking at his face first before you answer,” you insisted unimpressed. 
He smiles, still staring at you. 
“I don’t recognise him,” he repeats himself slowly. 
“So this isn’t you in the photo?” You ask.
“I don’t know,” his grin only grows.
“This man, Jackson Wang, is dead, and the last person who saw him alive seems to have been you Mr Kim, at least based on the time stamp on this photo and the time of death from the post mortem.”
“Is that right,” he says again, sounding like a broken record. His eyes swim with admiration for you, you can see it though you can’t understand it at all with the current scene. Why wasn’t he fuming, why wasn’t he demanding an answer or explanation?
“Okay let's cut the crap since I know you’re far too clever for that Mr Kim,” you scoff with a roll of your eyes. “I have gathered evidence of your crimes from the last 18 months, and I will stand in court as a witness against you.”
“Are you allowed to do that little love?” he asks, the name has a pang of panic hit you, but you tell yourself you can explain it away to brass.
“The charges you're facing so far are murder, battery, and grand larceny to name a few,” you state ignoring him, flicking through the photos, throwing each one in front of him. “There are many more to follow.”
“I didn’t know partners could testify against each other,” he mused, smirk still strong on his face.
“I’m not your partner,” you object. “I was undercover.”
“No,” he contends, shaking his head like this was just a game to him. “You can’t fake a love like ours, heaven.”
You almost snort as if his point was ridiculous.
“I don’t think I could ever love someone like you Mr Kim,” your stare was ice cold, that finally wipes the smile off his face. 
“You’re angry,” he states as if it was new information for you. “I get that little love, but this is a bit too much, don’t you think?”
“I think justice needs to be served, don't you?” you sneered. “People got hurt, some people died, someone needs to pay.”
“You and I both know they deserved it,” he declares as if there wasn’t a camera recording his confession. “You’re just angry because I stepped on a bug.”
Utter rage brewed like a storm in your chest, and you wanted the downpour to drown him. 
“You sound like you’re ready to sign the confession Mr Kim,” you don’t break your stare. “That’s great, saves us a lot of time, thank you.”
You close the file, pushing the chair back to stand. 
“I’m not done with you,” he growled.
“But I’m done with you.” 
“Y/n sit,” he commands calmly, composing himself. “Throwing a fit isn’t going to fix things.”
“Throwing a fit?” The audacity of this man, you stand there in shock. 
“Let’s talk it through,” he says to you as if you were being hysterical. 
“Fuck you,” you spit. 
“Talk to me Y/n,” he scolded you like you were a child. “Without this bullshit.”
“Fine! You wanna talk about it Namjoon,” you snapped, taking the seat again, throwing the file haphazardly on the desk. “Let’s talk about it.”
The glare you present him with doesn’t make him flinch, it doesn’t phase him. You hope Suho had enough sense to turn the cameras off by now, this would go nowhere. 
“You manipulated me, you lied to me, you made me play the fool.”
He didn’t react, not a single muscle on his face moved and it fanned whatever flame explode inside of you like a bomb. This was his true colours underneath the mask of love and adoration he created for you.
“You don’t have to pretend anymore Namjoon I can see right through you,” you state. “And you are never touching me again.”
That made him look at you, really look at you, something shifted in his gaze, a slight smirk as if he was mocking you.
You could cry kick and scream about the injustice he put you through in the name of this fucked up love and he wouldn’t flinch. He would sit there and watch and then the fucker would have the audacity to laugh afterwards. He must’ve laughed at how stupid you were in trusting him when he lied.
“At least if you go to prison, I’ll finally be free,” you whisper like it’s a life line.
He’s still unmoved, sitting there as if you were invisible and it irked the fuck out of you. He was the one who wanted to talk, why the fuck was he silent now? 
You wanted him to hurt you wanted him to feel an ounce of what you did in the light of his betrayal. He tore your heart out and you weren’t going to forgive him.
“I must’ve looked so pathetic,” you say in a self deprecating tone, looking at the ceiling as if someone could answer you. “Suho was right.”
That comment makes his blood boil hard enough to show on his face. There it was, the reaction you were waiting for and you took the bait without thinking about what you were trying to catch or what you were trapped with.
“I should’ve trusted him, he’s always had my back and my best interest at heart.”
His jaw clenches, a fist squeezing nothing but air although he probably wished it was the captain's neck.
“Kai and Suho are all I have left,” you goad him, unsure of what exactly it was that you wanted to prove. “And finally I’m back where I belong.”
“If you don’t want a bullet in each of their heads, you need to stop talking love,” he grunts through gritted teeth.
Something inside of you felt vindicated and you realise then what you wanted from him, proof he fucking cared, that you weren’t some pawn or prize in this game of crime. You wanted him to soothe the very cuts he caused, or rip your heart out hard enough that you could bleed him out of your system forever.
“Oh please Namjoon, just admit why you kept me around for so long,” you scoff. “I can only imagine how it felt to have the lead detective on your case in the palm of your hands, like a trophy, a big fuck you to the justice system.”
You laugh sounding a little maniacal.
“You had me, and I fell for all of it.”
“You’re forgetting I didn’t know your true origins at first little love,” his low voice is a warning, he looks at you like he needed to remind you who you belonged to.
“And you’re forgetting I know you,” you bite back. “Any hint of betrayal and you pull the trigger first and ask questions later.”
He stares at you, grimacing.
“And yet here I am, alive.”
“Because I love you,” he says it so casually it throws you off, like it was a fundamental part of his being, like breathing.
“Because you saw an opportunity,” you rationalise.
“Because I could never lose you,” he confesses. “You could rip out my heart, little love and I would still want you, why else would I be here?”
You frown, what did he mean? He was here because you paid an eye for an eye, you betrayed him.
“What’s done is done,” you say as if you were unconcerned. “I will testify against you.”
He leans closer across the table, words for your ears only.
“Do you think you’ll be able to handle seeing Jungkook in prison, love?” Namjoon whispers. “Knowing you put him there? It would kill you.”
The pain his words brought forth only proved them to be true. You did have a soft spot for the youngest, always had. You break eye contact first, looking down at the file and turning back and forth a page as if in contemplation but really to cool your nerves.
Were you really doing this? Sending Yoongi, Jin, Hoseok, Jimin, Tae and Kookie to jail because of an angry outburst? Now your emotions had time to settle after the bomb that exploded when you saw Suho; you weren’t so sure.
“I never thought you could betray us like this,” he says solemnly, continuing to manipulate your guilt, but he forgot about your fire. He could almost see the coals ignite in your eyes, a misstep on his part, one he realised when a snarl forms on your lips.
“You. Lied.” You state ferociously. “I asked you if you hurt him and you lied to me.”
“So you decided to have us all arrested,” he continues, “for a man you stated you didn’t care about like that.”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” you seethe, unable to sit with him any longer, pacing the room before you raised a finger to his face. “You played me like a fool Namjoon, and I refuse to play the part anymore.”
“I wanted him dead, little love,” he states in a low voice through gritted teeth. “Do you understand what a mercy-”
“I asked you not to hurt him!”
“Then you underestimated our wrath!” he retorted. “I couldn’t let him go in one piece, and you didn’t need to know.”
“No. You underestimated MY wrath Kim Namjoon!” You burst, slamming the desk with your hand, the sting burning, your face heating more and more with rage as it concealed your heartache. “I am not some docile doll for you to play with, and manipulate and LIE TO! You took my love for granted when it was a damn fucking privilege.”
Your chest heaves with each breath, he stayed composed while you looked like a wild animal finally let out of her cage.
“You think this obsession is love,” your voice broke at the last word, the floods of heartbreak dampening the fires. “And I did too, but it’s fucked up everything.”
His silence was eating you alive, his face giving nothing of his heart away while yours laid bare out between you.
“You know what I’m done,” you breathe, “have fun rotting in jail Namjoon.”
Tears drop out of the corner of your eyes as you walk away, his piercing gaze doing nothing to deter you. He might’ve had power over you once but that was before he betrayed you. You reach for the door handle, tugging, ready to leave him behind until his trial, but the door doesn’t budge. You still, mind blank for a second before panic overwhelms you. You try again with all your might, pulling as hard as you can over and over before releasing your grip with a harsh breath. You take a gulp, calming yourself, he planned this.
You’re not surprised when you hear the sound of the handcuffs undo or the chains hit the floor. Fucking bastard. An alarm started blaring in the building, loud and overwhelming, but it came too late. Red lights flash, the room glowing as if warning you about the oncoming danger.
“Are we done with your outburst little love,” he says coldly, like your grievances were nothing more than a tantrum.
You turn to face him slowly, more tears dropping without a sound, shaking your head at the way his words cut you down to nothing.
When he stands from the seat your heart gallops with fear and panic. Although it’s helpless you turn back to the door, trying with all your might to open it and escape him. The fire alarm blaring does nothing to ease you, you hang onto the door as you feel him approach, tears falling out of your eyes without control.
Fuck, you were stuck here with the man you sent to jail, you were left to his mercy. His presence looms over you, you can feel him a hair's width behind you, not touching you, not really, but he’s so close it’s overwhelming.
It’s when you feel his breath you freeze, your body shutting down with dread. He presses his cheek to your hair, inhaling you softly. The action makes you jolt away, turning to the side but he grabs your wrist tightly. You don’t look at him, you stare into the two way mirror, your cheeks pathetically wet. You were supposed to hold the power in this room, but you could feel it dwindle away to nothing but smoke.
You’re slammed against the door hard, a whimper escaping your lips as your eyes scrunched in pain. You miss the flash of guilt in his eyes, realising he pushed you too hard. An apology on his lips but the glare when your eyes open stops him. He’s seen anger in your eyes before, hate even, for he knew love didn’t come without it. But fear? Never of him, not even in the days when you were undercover and your life was one unveiled secret away from ending. 
“Get away from me,” you seethe, meaning every word, even when you saw the hurt in his eyes. 
Regret, Kim Namjoon never knew the feeling before, but he knew he never wanted you to look at him the way you were. He needed to keep his calm, one wrong push and you would tear him out of your own heart.
Your eyes fly all over the room, trying to piece together a way to gain some distance. Suho… maybe he was still behind the glass. You tug your wrist as hard as you can, taking steps away from him but his hold is relentless. The blare of the alarm stops ringing but the flashing red lights remain, staining the walls like blood pumping.
“Little lo-“ he starts to say with a sigh, he was being patient but there was only so much time left.
“Suho?” You call desperately trying to look through the glass. You know you’ve made a mistake before you even said his name but fear drives people to do stupid things without thinking.
The most notorious criminal in all of Seoul pulls you back against his chest hard. An arm wraps around your waist, the unforgiving grip on your wrist turning lethal. He rests his chin on your shoulder, staring at you through the mirror. The hairs on your skin stood on end at the frightening change in his eyes, danger rolled off of him and you had no choice but to take every wave.
“Do you think he’s there, love?” The corner of his lip lifts in a smirk that makes you think of a snake, the saccharine tone of his voice hypnotising. “Do you think he’s watching us?”
The palm on your hip moves down to your thigh, he squeezes the flesh. You could feel your heart jumping in your throat.
“Should we give him something to watch?” He murmurs seductively, turning his head to bring his lips so close to your neck. The bruising clutch on your wrist is gone only to find its way to your hair, yanking it back to give himself better access.
Your eyes in the mirror are begging but the inner turmoil from his touch is making you question what exactly you’re asking for. Reason tells you it’s for Suho to save you, to grant you escape, but the way you feel a familiar heat swim to your core has you doubting yourself.
“If he was in there,” he whispers, his lips now on your ear, “don’t you think he’d come in here and try to take you from me, love?”
He chuckles to himself, a joke only he can understand.
“Fuck I’d love to see him try.”
His groan has you aching, your body relapsing to what it knows, anticipating the pleasure and pain only they could provide. 
​​“I’m not mad at you for having us arrested, heaven,” he whispers in your ear, gaze softening for a second in the mirror lulling you into a sense of security you couldn’t tell if it was a trap. “In fact I’m a little in awe, a little proud.”
The smirk he gives you seems genuine.
“We deserved it I know,” reassurance fills his voice, he wants you to hear his sincerity. “What I’m mad about, little love…”
The softness is gone, eyes turn piercing, the proverbial snake about to strike.
“Is the fact you let another man touch what’s mine.”
The guttural rumble of his possessive claim sent waves of need down to your cunt, you could feel it pulsing. 
“I’m mine,” you return meekly, trying to find your resolve, but it sounded like a whine.
“Make no mistake Y/n, you’re always going to be mine.”
You didn’t have it in you to argue, not when he sent your eyes rolling back and a shiver down your spine. Fuck he hadn’t even touched you yet, maybe it was true, maybe a part of you would always belong to them, but that didn’t mean all if you did.
“Look at me,” he commands, his breath hitting your neck.
Your blown out eyes meet him in the mirror, that predatory but protective gaze piercing through you. He hums in approval the deep vibration fucking with your senses, making you hazy. 
You both hold eye contact even when you can see the fingers on your thigh stroke soothing circles up your skin. Your lips part with a harsh breath when they rub your mound through the fabric of your panties, the touch light and testing and not nearly enough. 
“You’re fucking soaking wet baby,” he calls you out with a grin.
You grab his wrist when his fingers cup your heat, his thumb soothing circles on your clit. You press against him, the warmth of his chest enveloping your back. You both fit so well together, you were forgetting why exactly you were so angry at him, but simmers of it still remained even through his touch. 
“You know,” he says, opening your leg with his knee to give him more access, “a lot of couples fuck through their problems, should we try?”
He hides his grin, burying his head in you but you can feel it against your skin, the arrogant asshole. 
“You can go and fuck yourself,” you sassed back, lying to yourself that you could be fine if he stopped now, that it wouldn’t leave you a needy mess. 
“But I’d rather fuck you,” he chuckles, breathing you in, savouring the moment while his fingers slide the fabric aside. 
You choke back a moan at the contact of his skin right where you wanted him, the way he spread your wetness until every inch of you was covered in it. 
“You can pretend to regret our relationship all you want, but this,” he emphasises his point by slapping your cunt hard, making you gasp, “still wants me.”
“It wants to get fucked,” you spitefully remark through gritted teeth, “doesn’t have to be you.”
That makes him pause, and you have to bite back the words of displeasure. 
“You’ll pay for that next time love,” he murmurs dangerously. 
“There won’t be a next time,” you try to ridicule him through a laugh but his fingers circle your entrance. 
“You’re lying,” he hums, “next time, I think we should tie you down, make you watch other women touch us in ways only you’re allowed to.”
You bury the fury that ruptures at the image, clenching your jaw to keep from swearing at him and proving the point he was trying to make.
“Maybe then you’d have a semblance of understanding of what you did- the torture you put us through.”
“I wouldn’t care,” you breathe, squirming against his fingers, he needed to shut up and move.
“Liar,” he chuckles knowingly, seeing right through you. Before you, there were many females in his organisation, until his little love demanded he get rid of them all. The memory stretches his grin wider. 
“Why the fuck was it me?” You whisper, your eyes starting to water at the vulnerability of your tone, remembering the same moment he was. “When I went undercover there were so many beautiful women-“
“They’re not you, little love, don’t for a second compare yourself to them,” he kisses your temple softly in reassurance. His face is in your hair, his hand on your throat as you preen to his touch. “You were sweet and addicting with a fire you were trying so desperately to contain.”
He thrusts two fingers in gently, watching your face contort in want in the mirror, smiling at the way your eyes rolled back. You whimper when he squeezes his grip on your neck.
“To think that passion we saw in your eyes was hatred at first,” he smiles as if amused, watching every little reaction you gave him, every proof of love.
“I did,” you confess, pressing your ass against his hard length and making him groan, “I hated you.”
“You were sent to destroy us, love, but instead you reached into our souls and thought there was something worth saving,” he chuckled, nuzzling into you softly as if he wasn’t knuckle deep inside of you, feeling every part he knew so well. “And save us you did, it was so dark before you our little light, how could we ever let you leave?”
“You’re fucking with my head,” you whimper, head falling back to his chest, it rumbles when he laughs.
“Hmmm? I’m definitely fucking your brains out today Y/n,” he promises with a chuckle, kissing your temple again, but emphasising his point when he scissors his fingers reading you for his cock. “If that’s what you mean.”
This was your fault, you knew what you were getting into when you fell for them. You especially knew Namjoon was the worst of them all. You let his soft side brush away his true nature, and while you never forgot his ruthless persona, you put it to the back of your mind. You foolishly thought you had tamed his cunning cold cruel- 
“Oh fuck,” whatever train of thought you had died, the palm of his hand rubbing your clit, stimulating your already aching cunt to the edge. Your parted lips open wider to release a silent scream, his fingers stroking so deep.
You were so close, you could taste it, unable to control the delirious sounds escaping you. So when he stops and slips his fingers away from you, you have to stop yourself screaming in protest. 
“Up against the mirror Y/n,” he commands gruffly, but you don’t move, you were so fucking close. Fuck him, fucking asshole, you were so fucking close. 
He picks you up with ease, pushing you against the wall so your breath fogs the surface. You hear the zip pull down, your forehead falls forward, your core pulsing in anticipation. He grabs your leg, opening you for him, the head of his cock sliding across your folds until you're whining.
“Stop squirming love,” he warns, but you don’t listen, of course you don’t, so he makes you listen. 
The sound you release when he slaps your clit with his hard dick over and over has him questioning his restraint, fuck he wants to just pound into you but you needed to be taught a fucking lesson. 
“Joonie sensitive,” you whine, but he’s relentless, making you cry out over and over. Fuck you could actually maybe cum like this. 
His self control wavers, his jaw clenched with such a force he thinks it’ll shatter. He couldn’t take it anymore, the swell of his head finds your entrance. Inch by inch, he relishes the feeling of your walls hugging him so fucking tight, the pulse of them pulling him in. He leans over you, trying to regain composure but you feel so good he doesn’t want to move, he wants to stay like this forever, inside of you where he belongs. 
You try to push back into him, but he grabs your waist with one hand to keep you still, grinding his hips against you and he knows it’s not enough. 
“Look at you arching your back little love,” he smirks, “Your body knows where you belong, it’s a shame you tried to take it away from me.”
Your hands ball into fists on the mirror, you can’t even look at yourself right now, you can’t stop writhing on the surface, trying so hard to get him to move. You squeeze him hard, making his head fall against you with a grunt. 
“Behave little love,” he warns, “or I’ll show your colleagues just how well you can take me.”
“Make me,” you dare him even though it comes out as a mumble. 
You were dizzy and disorientated and all you wanted was for him to fucking move. He pushes you against the wall hard, every inch of him covering you so you couldn’t budge. You whine, the cold of the hard surface making you seek his warm body, you slot against him like a damn puzzle piece. He was hell bent on torturing you today, as if you hadn’t suffered enough. 
“Joonie move,” you almost sound like a brat, trying to order him around. 
“I’ll move when I’m ready,” he growls animalistically, barely holding himself back, but he needed to savour this.
You do everything you can to break his control, writhing against him like a bitch in heat. He swallows hard when you clench again. He spanks your ass hard in return, the air gets thicker, you find it harder to breathe. You keep still, the sting of your ass satisfying your craving for a moment, but not for long. 
He picks up your skirt, watching himself inside you, watching the beautiful mess you were making. So wet, so perfect, how did you ever think for a second he would ever let this go? The sight is too much, he releases a restrained groan, done with holding himself back. 
His hand grips your cheeks, turning your mouth to his, forcing his tongue down your throat as he finally pulls out only to push back in impossibly deeper. You took every punishing thrust, his presence surrounding you everywhere, even in front of you where his reflection painted the surface. He smothered you with his existence, the heat of him scolding, but you liked it, you craved it. 
“Do you think your ‘friend’ understands who you fucking belong to now detective L/n?” He chuckles deeply watching your fucked out face in the mirror.
He uses his grip under your knee to turn you towards the camera in the corner of the room.
“Think they can all see little love?” He pants. “How well you fucking take it? How good you are for me?”
You shake your head in protest but it feels too good. Your head falls back on him without the mirror to lean against. His fingers find your clit, his sole purpose to make you lose yourself to him. 
“Fuck look at you shaking baby,” he groans, feeling you pulse around him, drawing closer to the edge. “Your poor pussy just needs to come huh?”
You can hear the smirk in his tone, fucking self satisfied prick. 
“Not as badly as you need it,” you taunt back, feeling your defiance flare despite how your body was begging you to behave.. 
“Fuck you might be right,” he groans, going harder, faster. “I’m always going to need it.”
His confession takes you over, the words pushing you so hard you come apart violently, thrashing against him as you unravel, but he holds you tight. He doesn’t let you fall. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think, all you could feel was him and the burst of pleasure that carried on wave after wave, and you never wanted it to stop.
“This is mine,” he grunts as he comes undone inside of you, fucking his cum deeper until it got through to your soul. 
He was a part of you, and you could try to deny it now with his mistakes on the table, but he was so embedded in the fabric of you he couldn’t see where he began and where you ended. His entire existence was for you, it was only fair your cunt, body and soul belonged to him. Maybe the others too, as an afterthought, but you were his first.
He feels the mess slide out of you as he leaves your warmth, turning you softly so you could lean against him as you catch your breath. He holds you tight, arn arm around your middle like the steel of a bar. He has every intention of letting you recover but the way you look up at him with those glossy eyes confirms the fact he will never be satiated, he will always want more of you even if there was nothing left to give. 
“Our little love,” he breathes in your face, stealing a hard kiss, “our little downfall.”
His mouth held you prisoner again and again, humming pleasantly as you let him devour you in so many ways. His kiss was bruising, hungry, overindulging.
Your eyes search his as he parts reluctantly, your mind still hazy, the bliss of sex still circulating your body.
“Why did you lie to me?” You whisper breathlessly against his lips as you come down, and he can hear the vulnerability in your tone, it makes a guilt spread across his chest that feels almost alien. The way you could make him ache like no one else, he should cast you aside for introducing a weakness in him but he wouldn’t even dream of it.
“I didn’t want to lose you,” he confesses sincerely. “I didn’t want you to hate me.”
“I asked you not to hurt him,” your eyes tear up again, and he curses himself and the existence of Kim Suho.
“I know.”
“But you did it anyway,” you continue, “and then you had the gall to lie to my face.”
You wipe away the tears that fall harshly, your mind clearing. You push him away and fix yourself up, knowing from the glances in the mirror you were a mess.
“You always own up to your actions, right or wrong, you never hide them,” you laugh and you think you must sound psychotic. “The Kim Namjoon… I remember the days you would drop dead bodies in front of me without remorse, without ever feeling the need to explain yourself.”
“I was testing you then,” he grunts, remembering those days well. “I needed to know you had the stomach to be with us.”
“I hated you so much,” you confess, swallowing down a sob. “And for the first time since I fell in love with you Joonie, I can feel that hate grow again.”
His jaw clenches, his fist too. He could feel a threat on the tip of his lips, one where the Captain's head would end up on a plate in front of you for dinner but he holds himself back.
“You don’t mean that,” he says between gritted teeth.
“I had you fucking arrested Namjoon,” you argue back fiercely. “Don't tell me what I mean or don’t mean.”
“You also fucked me after the fact,” he states and the harsh words slap you hard. You did. You let him defile you here only moments ago.
“Old habits die hard.”
“Not with me love,” he dismisses the thought. “Not as long as I’m alive.”
“We’ll see,” you challenge, feeling that earlier conviction rise. 
“Understand something Y/n,” he says seriously, his face solemn and hard in a way you had witnessed rarely. This was Kim Namjoon with something to lose. “You can run, you can fight, you can hate me if you need to, but there isn’t a life worth living for us without you in it.”
He takes his seat back in the interrogation chair, putting his handcuffs back on with ease, all while keeping his eye contact with you. 
“You want me here, you want to punish me,” he continues, “fine, this where I’ll stay until you’re appeased, until you forgive me.”
“I won’t,” you deny, shaking your head. 
“You will.”
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xxsabitoxx · 1 year ago
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JJK Men: Who is Most Likely to Have a Daddy Kink
Warning: this contains smut but not like... explicit smut. More so NSFW talk about kinks and such hehe
A/N: Listen... I used to have a real big daddy kink and I grew out of it forever ago... but sometimes y'all use "daddy" just right in some of your fics and it has me kicking my feet. So, for funzies, I wanted to share my personal HCs on who has a daddy kink and who doesn't lol
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Geto Suguru
Sitting pretty and number one is none other than Suguru. Listen, I think this man has a massive daddy kink. I think this man gets off on you calling him daddy in and out of the bedroom. Like honestly? If you are really into it just like he is, he wouldn't mind it if you called him daddy all the time. Like, maybe save for calling him daddy in public or around friends. But in the privacy of your own home? In bed? When no one else can hear you? He'll be putty in your hands if you sweetly call him daddy. Part of the reason I say this is because I think Suguru is 100% a brat tamer, I think he lives for you being a little brat to him just so he can assert his authority over you and put you in your place. He thrives off of the ability to feel superior.
But, roughness aside, he will absolutely give you the best aftercare. Suguru will make sure you know how loved you are, he will constantly ask you for your reassurance that you are alright and he wasn't too hard on you. He'll shower you in love and praise and assure you that you are everything to him. He can get mean when he's in the mood to put you in your place, so he always prioritizes the aftercare.
2. Nanami Kento
I think Nanami has a daddy kink but he's kind of shy about it. Nanami actively hopes that you take the initiative and call him daddy. He's a bit embarrassed about the fact that he really likes the idea of being called daddy. He fantasizes about it when you aren't around to help him get off, stroking himself to the idea of you whispering that one word to him when he fucks you stupid. If you aren't going to take the initiative and call Nanami daddy, he'll eventually give in. He'll likely be balls deep in you when he grits out that you are to call him daddy. He'll be too lost in your body to even feel shame or embarrassment about the request and fuck will he come fast when you finally utter that one pretty word to him. All breathless and fucked out, you'll have Nanami falling apart every time you call him daddy.
Nanami also enjoys alternatives to Daddy, like calling him "sir". Unlike Suguru, he enjoys how respectful it sounds. Nanami won't make you call him daddy or sir outside of the bedroom, it's strictly a sex thing for him unless you express the interest in trying it outside of that scenario. Then, just maybe, Nanami will entertain the thought.
3. Ryomen Sukuna
Before you come and chew me out for the king not being at the top of this list... hear me out. Sukuna is from the Heian period, the man canonically speaks in old Japanese. Hell he asked Megumi to bewitch him. The term "daddy" is a little too new for Sukuna. That's not to say he won't grow to find interest in it. Sukuna much prefers when you call him things like "my king" or "my lord" he even enjoys "sir". But daddy will definitely take some getting used to for him. Once Sukuna gets acquainted with the idea, he will thoroughly enjoy it. He rather likes how flustered you get when you utter the word, making you say it in front of others just to watch them get uncomfortable as you so politely refer to him as daddy. He gets off on the embarrassment more than the word itself, but he does enjoy the nice little ring it has.
Aftercare can be mildly nonexistent with Sukuna. Sometimes his form of aftercare is making you cock-warm him after he just spent hours abusing your most sensitive bits. But other times he'll wrap you in his arms and whisper about how "nobody will ever love you like daddy does." brainwashing you into being content with him.
4. Gojo Satoru
Satoru has mixed feelings about the whole "daddy kink". Depending on your relationship, it may not be rare for you to jokingly call him daddy. Just as he will jokingly call you mommy. But these little "jokes" take a steep turn one night when he's fucking you stupid and he asks you to call him daddy for real. For some reason, it does him in. You'll later learn that you rather enjoy when he calls you mommy while you fuck and then it turns into this awkward little "we shall not speak of this outside of the bedroom" topic. You'll use the words against each other when in public just to see the other get worked up. But, much to Satoru's dismay, he realizes he really does like it when you call him daddy. He can't even explain it, especially since he would relentlessly tease Suguru for having a daddy kink.
Satoru loves aftercare, especially after times when he's punished you. The same can be said for when you provide aftercare after punishing him... having a daddy and a mommy kink is a whirlwind for the two of you. Satoru will clean you up and the tuck both of you in under the nice comfortable blankets, whispering about how he adores you and appreciates you for letting him live out his little fantasies.
5. Fushiguro Toji
Toji isn't really into the daddy kink... mostly because it reminds him of the responsibilities he ran away from... but if you really have a thing for calling him daddy, he's not going to stop you. Toji actually prefers it when you're mean to him, calling him filthy and rude names, belittling him, and calling him a nasty old pervert. He gets off on you being rude to him while he fucks you stupid. Nothing gets him off more than being called a sleazy fucking perv. He doesn't know why but you degrading him will have him blowing his load shamelessly in minutes. But if you really want to call him daddy, Toji will for sure entertain you. Because fuck does he love putting a brat in their place.
When it comes to aftercare, it really depends on your relationship. Toji may just blow his load and then dip, leaving you to clean up and pull yourself together. But if Toji has feelings for you, or if you fucked him really good? He'll clean you up before collapsing in bed beside you.
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freakyformula · 3 months ago
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hola matilda ❤️ i really live the first night headcannon with lando 🤭 if your request is open and if it is not too much, can i please request for something similar with lewis? but maybe about their honeymoon?? thank youu
Hi, I'm glad you liked it! I don't typically do requests but your suggestion is way too good to ignore...
Honeymooners part 1
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Summary: You'd been together for 5 years, you and Lewis. And finally, you tie the knot. But you've made a promise that you're scared to fulfill...
Warnings: 18+, smutty, fluffy, kinda angsty at times, mentions of miscarriage and abusive relationships, fingering, oral (both receiving).
Word count: 5,8k
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"I, Lewis, take you, Y/N, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honour you all the days of my life."
"I now pronounce Lewis and Y/N, husband and wife. Sir, you may kiss the bride." The officiant smiles.
Lewis, who had been looking at you intensely under the whole ceremony, not letting you out of his sight, licking his lips, shifting his weight between his legs, now crashes into you, giving you the sweetest kiss you'd ever received.
Your whole life flashes before your eyes and you couldn't quite work out how you got this lucky. You hear the guests cheering in the background but for now, it's just you and him. Your very own Lewis.
When you part, Lewis looks away at his parents, knowing that both his mothers would be crying, and he was right, both of them held a neatly folded tissue in their hands, wiping the edge of their eyes every few seconds. Lewis' dad, Anthony, on the other hand, stood there, proud as ever, giving you both a reassuring nod.
You're given a final blessing by the officiant, while the guests leave the church.
"Y/N, Lewis. Let's do a couple of photographs here." The photographer mentions as she helps you into the poses she wants you in and starts clicking away. You're looking you at him while he holds you, and you can't help breaking out into laughter.
"What?!" He laughs with you.
You turn away from the photographer, with him following. "You've never looked more handsome, sir." Your words make his cock twitch in his pants.
His head turns around to the photographer to check if she's at a comfortable distance before he leans down to you. "Ooooh, dear. I'm gonna make you call me sir for the rest of my life." He says, his voice shushed so the photographer won't hear.
"Good, I think I'm happy with that!" She smiles at you both and walks off with hurried steps.
"Do you think we scared her away?" Lewis looks down at your smaller figure, giving you a wide smile.
You offer Lewis a mischievous smile as an answer, him knowing that you would have scared her away in order to get some alone time with your man if he didn't.
"So, Mrs. Hamilton... How does that feel? Me calling you Hamilton?" He huffs, surprised by the way those words rolled off his tongue himself.
"I'm so happy, Lewis." You whisper as you take a step closer to him, pressing yourself against him, and him holding you in place, not breaking eye contact.
That feeling hits you again, the feeling of no one else being there with you, it's as if you're in your own bubble of love; pulsing, burning. "Shall we?" Lewis interrupts your thoughts.
"Yeah." You smile, and he grabs your hand, giving it a squeeze.
As you walk down the cathedral aisle with Lewis leading the way, you can't help but admire him. He looked stunning, dressed superbly, and his custom-made suit suited him like a glove. He must have noticed you staring because he pulls you in and places his hand on your hip.
"You okay, love?" He asks. God, that nickname made you weak. "Yeah, yeah." You try to sound confident and assuring, but the words come out weak. He nods as an answer, and when you exit the big wooden doors, the visitors toss rice and flower petals at you. Even if you were aware of the tradition, you are startled. Lewis yields and willingly stands in his spot while grains of rice wash over him.
You cover your head instinctively and Lewis seems to notice, pulling you closer. You snuggle into his armpit, smelling his cologne. The smell of his shoots a wave of delight down to the pit of your stomach, reminding you of what was to happen on your honeymoon.
You both knew that you wanted your first time to be during your honeymoon. You'd been adamant on waiting when you and Lewis first started dating and Lewis wasn't the one to push, it was the other way around, just because he knew your wishes. He would be the one to disengage whenever your makeout sessions got too heated.
You greet your families and friends warmly, all of them smiling widely and complementing you on how good you look.
"Congratulations, you both!" Your mother exclaims while wiping a tear with a tissue. Lewis shakes hands with your father and makes small talk. Your father and Lewis had a special bond, he knew Lewis was the right man for you after the first time they met, 4 years ago.
"She needs someone like you." He said at the time, and you were sure he would agree with his words now too.
"Oh, my baby!" Your father coos as he walks up to you. "You look so beautiful, but you always do." He rambles while hugging you tightly.
You direct your guests to the venue to continue the festivities. Your dad had loaned out his original Beetle he drove when your mother and he got married. It felt sentimental getting into it and driving off, knowing that your parents sat in it at some point, celebrating their marriage.
When Lewis starts the car and drives away, he maintains his hand in your hands while you fumble with his fingers nervously. This continues until Lewis grabs a hold of your hands with his bigger hand, which brings you back to a state of peace. You shoot him a look, you know he noticed but he deliberately chose not to look your way.
"It's okay, Y/N. No need to be nervous." He finally says as he languidly strokes your hands with his thumb.
You take a deep breath. Breathe. You really had no need to be nervous, but you hated being the centre of attention. Luckily, it was only for one night.
You are taken aback when you arrive at the location, which is a stunning garden that is brimming with roses and lilies and features a greenhouse in the centre of the area. You had been on a visit here a couple of months ago, but you did not recall it being quite as spectacular as it is now.
Lewis helps you out of the car, and you see the rest of the guests starting to arrive. As the guests get seated at their designated places, you take some more pictures in the garden. The day was warm, but not enough to make you sweat and the sun kept disappearing behind clouds only to come back with its warm rays.
"You're looking immaculate." Lewis whispers, making you blush. You swat him playfully, making you, him, and the photographer laugh.
The inside of the venue was beautifully decorated with fresh flowers from the garden, living candles on the tables, and string lights hanging from the roof as the only light source, making it incredibly cosy.
As both of you get seated, the wedding planner announced the schedule for the night; First, food. Then, cutting the cake, and last but not least, a toast. After that, the guests were free to party all they wanted, but you and Lewis had other plans.
The food was made by one of the best restaurants Lewis knew of, offering both vegan and meat options in the buffet.
"Do you like it?" Lewis asks, sounding genuinely concerned if you like the food or not.
"Best food I've ever had." You admit as Lewis strokes your back, his hand sliding lower and lower.
The cuisine was genuinely extraordinary, and you had to resist the impulse to overeat in order to leave room for the dessert. Dinner came and went, and the guests ate to their hearts' content, complementing the meal.
Every time you glanced over to Lewis, you catch him staring, but he would simply shrug his shoulders. "What, you can't really blame me, I'm sat next to the most beautiful woman in the world after all."
You huff, "Sweet talker...", before you lean in and give his cheek a kiss, earning a chuckle from him. He turns his head, looking straight into your eyes. You don't dare to move, you're locked in place as he leans in closer to you, your lips only a few millimeters apart. "I can't wait until tonight, sweetheart... The things I want to do to you, I can't even say out loud." His words make your stomach twist, and you almost choke on the cider you were sipping.
"I'm concidering this foreplay, Lewis. Starting off already?" You tease.
"Gotta get you ready, baby..." He coos before he closes the gap and catches your lips in a tender kiss.
"Y/N, Lewis, time to cut the cake!" The planner announces.
The cake cutter is vibrating in your hand as you hold it. All of the guests were bunching up next to your and Lewis to catch a glimpse of the precious moment. Lewis notices the way you're shaking, and places a comforting arm around your shoulder.
Lewis couldn't help smiling at you and smearing a bit of the frosting on your nose, just to have an excuse to lick it off.
The cake, a vegan coconut cake, was even better than the food. You thanked yourself for saving some space for it.
"Ladies, gentlemen. I'd like to propose a toast to my beautiful wife, Y/N..." Lewis starts. "Y/N, you are the love of my life. You renewed my faith in true love, and I feel so honoured to be your man. I will do everything in my power to make you happy. I love you." He concludes as he looks over at you with sincerity in his eyes.
You can hear the rest of the crowd murmuring in the background, but you're focused on him. You can feel yourself getting choked up and quickly grab a tissue to wipe away the tears that are threatening to ruin your makeup.
"To Y/N." Lewis raises his glass with the rest of the crowd.
"Also, Y/N and I regret to inform you that we will be leaving in a moment. We haven't told any of you but we're travelling to Italy tonight." Lewis admits, followed by protests from both of your parents, them pleading you to reconsider.
You and Lewis had a couple of destinations planned for your honeymoon, first off; Milano. After that, the Maldives, and lastly, Cancun, Mexico.
You knew they wouldn't approve of your plan to depart early, which is precisely why you had kept it a secret. However, they soon understood that they couldn't force you to change your opinion and let you go. You hurriedly snapped pictures with the visitors and bid them farewell, giving each person a hug and a kiss.
You quickly changed into a sundress that you would be travelling in and grabbed your things, your phone, lip balm, and your wallet and put them into your purse.
When you got outside, a man in a suit was waiting for you. He led you and Lewis, who was holding you tightly, to the black SUV. As soon as you got in, Lewis' hand was on your thigh, carefully pulling on it like he wanted you to move closer to him without saying so. You weren't even at the plane yet and Lewis was already seemingly desperate to have you. You spend the trip to the airport in silence, with the driver saying a few words now and again.
Lewis wasn't the one to waste the planet's resources but if he was ever going to use a private plane, it was on his wedding night. As you stepped outside, you gasped. You had no idea of his plans to travel private. As you step inside into the grand aircraft, you gasp even louder. It was luxurious, with wide seats, and was even equipped with a bed.
"I thought we'd spend our first night as newlyweds comfortable..." Lewis whispers in your ear as the flight attendants introduce themselves.
"Thank you, that will be all." Lewis cuts the flight attendants off and closes the door.
"Lewis..." You warn.
"Yeah?"
"That was rude."
"I want you all to myself, is that bad?" Lewis asks.
"You have the rest of your life to spend with me."
"That's not enough though. I want forever." He quickly counters.
You sit down in a seat. Lewis is frozen to where he is standing, staring you down, processing the situation, perhaps working out a plan for how to get you in the mood. He really was needy, you could see the lust in his eyes, and you notice the bulge in his pants that he was trying to hide.
As the plane finally takes off and you get to unfasten your seatbelts, Lewis walks over to the bed and collapses on it.
"Sweetheart, come here, I miss you already!" Lewis whines.
You groan and get up, walking over to the ridiculously large and plush bed. When you get to the edge of the bed, he sits up and before you can react, he has pulled you down on the bed with him.
He supports himself on his elbow and looks down at you, making you slightly blush. You hide your face in your hands, but Lewis is quick to grab them and give your pink cheek a kiss, making you blush even further. Sure, you were used to Lewis being touchy and sweet but this was a new level.
"Shit, love, you're gorgeous like this. Under me." He whispers as his lips brush past your ear. His movements are slow and deliberate as he moves on top of you.
"Lewis..." You moan.
"Shhh, baby, we have to be quiet, remember?" He whispers as you cover your mouth, embarrassed. He chuckles and moves his hands down your chest, to your stomach, all the way to your hips. "Fuck, can't we?" He begs.
You trusted Lewis fully, it wasn't that. But you were unsure of how being intimate with Lewis would feel like to you.
In your youth, you had a boyfriend that didn't treat you right. He would abuse you physically, mentally, financially, and sexually. You found out that you were pregnant and at the time, you were overjoyed. He was not, though. He was enraged. He wanted to get rid of it but you refused. His solution? Kick you in the stomach until you miscarried. This event made you finally break up with him and place a restraining order. But that wasn't much of a solace when you just lost a baby you so dearly wanted.
Lewis knew of all of this, and he would comfort you whenever you needed him to, and that was why initially fell for him. The first night you spent together, about 5 years ago, you had a bad dream about the continuous kicks and blows to your body and Lewis woke up from you kicking and struggling. He didn't need to know why, he just pulled you closer and held you until the struggling stopped and you went back to a comfortable slumber.
And you didn't blame him, you had agreed that you would start being intimate when you got married. And now you were a married couple, so there was nothing wrong with him wanting you, but you were unsure how to express your sexuality. This was all new to you. With your ex, you didn't really get to communicate your needs and wants, meaning the things that you liked and wanted to try were left within yourself.
You answer him with a kiss, which he enthusiastically accepts. You grab his wandering hand as it travels a little too low for your liking. "What's wrong, love?" He asks worriedly. "Nothing, just..." You start, not knowing how to explain yourself or knowing how to even word yourself correctly.
You were desperate to start your love life with Lewis. But at the same time, a single thought was plaguing your mind.
What if you end up the same way again?
Which was ridiculous, because you knew Lewis and you knew he would never treat you the same way your ex did.
Lewis seems to notice your thoughts racing out of control and gives you a lengthy kiss on your forehead. "What is going through that pretty head of yours?" He asks.
"I don't know, Lewis, guess I'm just scared."
Lewis tuts. "Babe, there's nothing to be scared of. You know I will never hurt you, or do anything you're not okay with."
"I know, Lewis." You say, pulling him into your arms. "I really want to, you know."
"I know, darling, I know." He sighs. "What do you need me to do?"
"Nothing, Lewis, you're already doing enough." You whisper as you're pulling on his beard. You feel his hands wandering all over, and you feel your core growing wetter and wetter as he strokes your thighs and hips.
"Can I feel you?" He asks, and you nod shyly. He gives you a smile and sits up on his knees. His hands move under your dress, pulling it up in the process. Your thighs and clothed heat his exposed in the process. This was nothing new, you had seen each other naked before. But it still made you nervous, which Lewis noticed. "This is nothing I haven't seen before, remember?"
His hands move up with the dress exposing you even further. You pull it off with Lewis' help, leaving you in your lace bra and panties.
"Please, Lewis..." You plead.
"What do you need, babe?"
"Need... you."
Lewis stops what he's doing and looks at you with blown eyes. "Fuck."
He invites you into a sweet kiss which quickly deepens into a messy makeout session. His tongue licks your lips, hoping you will allow him access, and you do, you open your mouth willingly. His tongue enters and explores your mouth, touching you in places you thought he'd never touch.
As his hand moves over your underwear, you lean into his soft touch. His fingers grow bolder and brush over your mound and down to your heat.
"Oh god, you're drenched." He seems surprised, as if he didn't have the biggest influence on you. His fingers find their way to each side of you, slowly pulling your underwear down and exposing you fully in the process. You instinctively clench your thighs together.
"Don't be shy, let me see you." Lewis coos, moving his hands inside your thighs, softly spreading them. When he sees your glistening pussy, his breath hitches.
"Oh, baby... So wet for me already. Can I touch you?"
You don't answer, you don't feel the need. Instead, you take his hand and steer it to your heat. You take a moment to feel the wetness yourself, with Lewis. His fingers easily slide up to your clit and down to your hole, spreading your arousal.
"Are you this desperate for me?" He asks.
"I've been needing you since forever, Lewis, I thought you knew?" You tease.
"Does that mean you're ready to...? You're sure?" He asks, his voice wavering.
"I'm 100% sure. I want to try." You say as your hand moves down from his strong chest to his stomach, feeling his strong abs with your fingertips. Your hand continues travelling down to his crotch, where his growing member is already poking through his baggy jeans.
"No, Y/N. I want our first time to be special, not on a plane." He says as he grabs your hand. "But I wouldn't mind making you feel good..." He adds suggestively while teasing your entrance.
"Please, Lewis..." You whimper, pulling his hand closer. You gasp as his finger first enters you. "Shhh, relax." Lewis tries to comfort you. It didn't hurt, but the feeling of him inside of you after all those years surprised you.
He pulls his finger out and slides it in again. He scissors and pulls on you to stretch you out for him to add another finger. When he deems you ready, he adds another finger. The feeling makes you yelp, but the pain quickly subsides and turns into something more... Primal, in lack of a better word. All the matters at that moment is him and his fingers stretching you out. He begins to work you towards your first orgasm while you relax into his touch.
You had cummed before, but not by a man, but by your own hand. You would be surprised if Lewis actually managed to make you cum.
His hands are experienced. His fingers curl up towards your G-spot, which he managed to find within seconds while his other hand is pulling and rolling your nipple between his fingertips. You feel a warmth in your stomach that could only mean one thing; You were getting close. "How did yo..." You start, but he covers your mouth, shushing you, urging you to just relax and take it.
His hand stays put over your mouth as you get closer to your release, and you start breathing heavier which Lewis notices. He leans down to you, "remember, we need to stay quiet, can you do that for me?". You nod, looking deep into his beautiful brown eyes, and they smile down at you as an answer. "Good girl." He says.
When you feel yourself creeping dangerously close to release, you pull away from his tender touch. Lewis shoots over you quicker than ever and studies your face. You're scared, he can see that much.
"What's wrong, love?"
"I-I'm not sure. I guess I'm scared of showing you how dirty I am."
Your words made his heart weep. He wanted to rip the man that made you think this apart. He had no right to do this to you, to hurt you this way.
"Sweetheart... Me making you feel good doesn't make you dirty in any way. It's just natural to want to make the other person feel good."
His reassurance makes you relax again and you open your legs for him, while he rubs circles on your hips in a desperate attempt to soothe you. "Ready?" He asks.
"Yeah..." You confirm. And when he starts stimulating your inner walls again, you close your eyes shut, while gasping for air. You're so close at this point, but not quite getting over the edge. Just when you're about to give up and kick and scream in defeat, you feel his mouth on your clit, immediately sucking itself in place. As his tongue flickers on your clit, and the fingers pump your squelching pussy, you feel yourself getting even more aroused and without you being ready for it, you cum.
Lewis has his hand on your mouth quickly, and you bite down on his finger in order to not scream your lungs out. The feeling inside of you is overwhelming, and the fact that he didn't stop made it all worse, or better, depending on how you choose to perceive things.
"Jesus, Lewis!" You whisper while sounding somewhat angry.
"What, felt good didn't it?" He teases.
"Yeah..." You admit in defeat.
When you land in Milano, you quickly get off the plane and drive towards the resort you were set to stay at. At the check-in, Lewis holds you in his arms protectively, even though he sees two guards standing at the entrance. Lewis was like that, always making sure you were safe. You get the keys to your very own small cabin and start the walk down the street of the resort.
"I'm so tired." You complain.
"I've got you..." Lewis says as he picks up up into his strong arms.
You hum contently. "My hero."
You almost drift off to sleep as he carries you down the street to your cottage. It takes a while for Lewis to find the right one, but when he does, he opens the door, with you still in his arms. How he managed, you have no idea.
"Hey, we're here." Lewis whispers to you as you are awakened from your soft slumber. He lets you down carefully and you stumble back into his arms, fatigue taking over every cell in you.
"Let's get you to bed, love." He chuckles. He helps you undress and lays you down with care. He follows soon after, pulling you close. You don't notice though, as you're already drifting off to sleep.
"Love you, Y/N." You hear him whisper. You're too drowsy to answer, so you simply let out a hum.
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You're awakened by birds chirping outside your window. You reach out to the other side of the bed, only to find it empty.
"Lewis?" You call out for your man.
You look around the room for him, with no luck. You sit up in the bed, and finally see the room you and Lewis have spent your first night as a wedded couple in. You get up from the canopy bed and call out for him again. You hear a "yeah?" from the bathroom, and before you have the chance to react, Lewis appears with a panicked expression. Seeing him made your heart swell, and when he sees you're okay, he walks towards you with a towel wrapped around his waist.
"Sorry love, took a shower and I didn't hear you call out at first."
He leans in and gives your forehead a morning kiss.
"I think I should shower too." You admit, feeling grimey from last nights flight, and not to mention the wedding itself.
"I wasn't finished, join me?" He pleads. You nod and follow him into the bathroom. Lewis helps you undress your tee and underwear he had helped you put on the night before. When the cool water hits your skin, you can't help but gasp. The coolness descends into your heart which is pleasant, and calming. You hear Lewis stepping inside and you turn around to face him, only to find him shining like a sun, smiling wider than you had ever seen him smile.
"What's got you in such a good mood today?" You ask.
He takes a small step closer, closing the gap and pressing himself against you. You feel his morning erection against your stomach and you take a step back to look at the spectacle. When you see his length, you cross your arms in nervousness. No way that was going to fit in you. "Lewis... That thing is never going to fit." You admit.
Lewis chuckles, "we'll make it fit."
You gulp, and reach out to touch it. You had to remind yourself that this was nothing new, you had seen and touched him before. When your fingers reach around him, he sighs contently and closes his eyes, making you look up, worried that you had done something wrong. The sudden lack of movement on your part makes him look down at you again.
"Feels so good, baby... Keep going."
And so you do. The feeling of your small hands around him drives him close faster than you can register. When his hands shoot up to yours, you stop. "Slow down, love, I'm about to cum already."
You decide to not use your hands. You give him a questioning look as you get down on your knees, never breaking eye contact. "Y/N, you don't have to-" He starts.
"But I want to." You respond before he has the chance to finish his sentence. You look down at the length and grab his member, taking his pulsing tip into your mouth. You close your lips around him, while you hear him hiss, as he grasps the handle to the shower door to steady himself.
He deserved this, he really did, everything he'd done for you... You couldn't begin to describe your gratitude towards him. You wanted to thank him and give back for what he did to you last night.
The more you take of him into your mouth, the longer the pauses between his breaths get. The profanities that exit his usually sweet-talking mouth surprise you and you look up at him with his cock in your mouth, locking eyes with him. The sight of you with him in your gape pushes him over the edge, and he quickly pulls you off him. You release him with a pop and stick your tongue out, remembering what he said the night before, you're not dirty, it's natural. You feel warm splurts of his cum landing on your face and in your mouth and Lewis groans at the sight of you taking it for him.
Lewis slides down to sits next to you, both of you out of breath, but very happy and content simultaneously.
Lewis and you finish up your shower, with Lewis helping you shampoo your hair, and insisting on scrubbing your body clean.
After breakfast, you go out to see a bit of Milano, before taking off to the next destination; The Maldives.
When you get to the airport, the private plane is already waiting for you to arrive. The flight attendants are the same as yesterday; hopefully, they were unaware of your activities the night before. When you're seated and ready, the plane takes off.
The flight is long, but you finally make it to your destination early in the morning. When you step outside on the smaller airport, the sea air hits you. You find your guide that takes you to your bungalow.
"So for how long are you planning on staying again?" He asks.
"7 days, we're honeymooning." Lewis answers.
The guide answers by nodding, and you continue your journey.
"Here we are. Your very own, private house. No neighbours closeby." The man says as you all look around.
It was in the middle of nowhere. Where the hell had Lewis taken you? But as soon as you saw the interior of the house, you change your mind. It was beautiful, and even had a pool in the back garden. This place was ideal, and calm. Perfect for you two.
When the guide leaves and you're left alone, Lewis walks up to you. "What do you think?"
"I love it, Lewis!" You try to contain your excitement as you jump up and down in his arms.
"I thought this would make you relax..." He whispers... His hand moving a strand of hair off your face, making you freeze. "So beautiful." He coos while brushing your nose with his lips.
"Lewis..." You warn, him tearing down your walls faster than you can even react. You stay like that, in what feels like the embrace of the earth, and you're being swallowed whole.
He guides you outside, towards the blue water, and you willingly follow. His shorts drop, along with his underwear. You giggle nervously as he finally tears off his tee, and walks out into the water. When he turns around to face you, he smiles, "Come on, love!" with his member swinging freely between his legs.
You're standing on the white sand, watching as he's dipping his head into the water and relishing in the warm hold of the water. The thought of skinny dipping made your insides tingle, "ah, fuck it" you whisper to yourself as you unbutton your denim shorts. Lewis won't let you out of sight as you undress, and he can feel himself growing hard.
When your toes touch the water, you are surprised by how warm it feels. The warmness completely envelops you and you melt into it. Then, you feel Lewis' arms holding you up and you collapse into his chest. "One, two, three!" He counts as he dips you under the water playfully, wetting your hair. When you make it above the surface again, you gasp for air and burst out laughing. "You fuck!" You yell as you spit out the water from your mouth.
As revenge, you splash him with your hands, and Lewis, with his sharp reflexes, avoids the incoming water.
You spend hours in the water; playing, kissing, and turning innocent touches into something else. Something more heated.
When you get up, you're both famished and exhausted. As Lewis is busy preparing dinner, you sit on the sofa overlooking the blue horizon, the indian ocean. Lewis insisted on cooking dinner himself. He knew how tired you were after travelling all night. When you get up, you walk past the large bookcase and the books in it catches your eye. Shakespeare, Tolkien, Nabokov, Fitzgerald... Impressive, you think to yourself.
"Find something you like? Maybe you can read something to me later?" Lewis asks.
"It's like a mini library... It has everything." You say absent-mindedly.
Lewis chuckles and continues cooking while you choose a book for later. Why does your mind decide on Dante? You have no idea. He does not seem like the right kind of author to decide on when you're on a honeymoon. But it felt right, and the book, Inferno, didn't let you down. It was comical; Lewis and you burst out laughing a couple of times as you got past the introduction. You must have read for 2 hours, before you dozed off, nestled up to Lewis.
He lifts your light body up and carries you to the softness of the bed, and tucks you in for the night. He spends a while just taking your beauty in. A tear escapes, and he is quick to brush it off his face. He is afraid of failing; failing you, your marriage, and your unity. You are awakened by his sobs. You are swiftly next to him to comfort him.
"I'm so sorry, love. Didn't mean to wake you up." He cries. You do not answer. You wrap your arms around his neck and hold him, pulling him down next to you. And you fall asleep like that, with Lewis snuggled into your chest and your arms around him.
The rest of your time in the Maldives is spent swimming, sun bathing (including a nasty sunburn...), lots of cuddles and kisses, and stolen glances.
But nothing happens. Both you and Lewis seem too scared to even bring it up. Sure, you touch each other and you spend each night pleasuring one another. But the next step... Never comes.
"Lewis..." You speak on the last night in your cozy bungalow, before you're departing to Mexico, your last destination. "Why haven't we done it yet?"
"What?" He asks absent-mindedly as he is scrolling away on Instagram. When you don't reply, he puts away his phone, looking up at you. He sighs and thinks of a way to say what is on his mind. "I... I want to wait for the right time, Y/N. I don't want our first time to be rushed."
"But I'm ready..." You say as you reach out for him. He takes you into his arms and holds you until you fall asleep, not letting go.
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reverie-starlight · 9 months ago
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{the proposal- kuroo}
on today’s episode of “rev accidentally disregards the polls she made”, we have this fic :3 I actually adore this one, it was so fun to write!! hope you enjoy <3 also… thank you sm for 1k followers 😭🫶🏻 that’s huge, I appreciate everyone sm 🥹
gn!reader, no physical descriptions. fluff fluff fluff. alcohol mentions, drunk reader. dialogue heavy at the start.
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“You need to propose to me.”
Kuroo, who is enjoying his drink, begins to choke. “I what?”
You roll your eyes with a barely concealed smile.
“Not for real, silly, just a fake one.”
He looks at you like you’ve gone insane. “I’m not following.”
“We’re broke university students, do you really think we can afford to pay for more than two drinks tonight? If you propose, I bet people would make a drunken mistake and offer to buy us a celebration round.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him as he continues to give you that same incredulous look.
“That’s-“ he cuts himself off before he can finish that thought and starts with a new one. “I doubt that would work. I mean, maybe at a restaurant with free dessert, but a bar? Really?”
“I’ve seen it done in stranger places!” You defend yourself. “Besides, you’ve been sipping on your drink for the past 25 minutes. If the ice had poison in it, you’d be dead by now,” you lean back and cross your arms.
Your boyfriend just shakes his head. “Your mind is a very interesting place. Alright, fine. We’ll do it, but if it doesn’t work that’s going to be really embarrassing. Hand me your ring, I’ll do it when more people are around.”
You only have to wait another ten minutes before a group of business men having a meeting a couple of tables over appear to be drunk enough to invest in young love.
Your boyfriend nods once to signal that he’s going to do it and soon enough he’s on one knee, fake tears forming at the corners of his eyes and a dusting of pink on his cheeks that make you want to kiss them.
(Your heart jumps that the thought that he could do this for real one day).
“You’re the love of my life,” he begins, and you make a mental note that he either has a bright future in acting or his drink really is too strong, despite his insistence that he could handle it earlier.
A lady one table over gasps and draws more attention to the performance in front of the customers.
“And I absolutely adore every single thing about you. I had a whole plan for this, but with the way you’re looking tonight, I can’t wait a second longer. We’ve managed to get many years together already, and I’d be honoured to spend the rest of our lives just like this. Will you marry me?”
You’re genuinely touched at his words and the sincerity in his tone almost makes you forget it’s fake.
Not wanting to make your audience wait much longer, you make a big show of nodding your head and jumping into his crouched form with a loud “yes!”
Drunken cheers are only background noise while you press against his chest. His heartbeat eliminates the chance of you focusing on anything but him.
Kuroo tips his head down to whisper, “think we pulled it off?”
You nod against him and start to get up. He looks over to see one of the drunk business men coming over to greet you.
“Congratulations on your engagement! Let us buy the happy couple some drinks!”
The man’s face is flushed and he gestures to his table. “Order whatever you’d like, it’ll be put on our tab.”
You fake surprise. “Oh my goodness, that’s very generous of you, but we could never take advantage of your kindness like that!”
Beside you, your ‘fiancé’ stifles a laugh but the man doesn’t notice. “No, I insist! You should celebrate.”
This time Kuroo takes over. “Ah… well, thank you, sir. Rest assured we won’t go too crazy.”
The man laughs and claps him on the back. “What a polite couple of kids you are! Reminds me of me and my wife,” he winks before heading back to his table, whistling some tune.
You spin around and look up at your boyfriend with a smug grin. “So what are we getting first?”
A couple of hours later, you’re both stumbling into your campus apartment, giggling and trying to shush each other despite not having any other roommates.
You somehow manage to get through your night routines and fall back into your bed soon after. You’re a far more wasted than Kuroo is (he always drinks less than you to be able to take care of you), so he tries to get you to sip on some water.
He watches you with a silly grin as you fiddle with your “engagement” ring. You’ve since slipped it back onto your index finger where it originally was this evening, but you move it back to your ring finger and fiddle with it.
“I think…” your words are slightly slurred and laced with sleep. “I mean, I know… that I don’t want my real engagement ring to be diamond.”
His grin widens so much his cheeks begin to hurt. “No? So what will it be, baby?”
You form your own smile. “I’m sure I’ll love whatever you come up with. You know me best after all.”
He forces you to take another sip of water when your words don’t get any less coherent. While you drink he thinks of the ruby ring tucked away somewhere at Kenma’s house. You’re far too good at sniffing out clues and he’s never been good at keeping secrets from you.
You’re still in university, it’s far too soon to get engaged for real- you’ve both always said you wanted to wait until you’re done with school- but he’s been saving up for that ring since high school. he’s always knows you would be the one for him.
So when the time comes he’ll be ready. With a speech much better than whatever he said tonight.
“Alright, let’s get some sleep. You’re going to have the worst hangover tomorrow, you haven’t had that much to drink in a while.”
You tug at his wrist before he can shut the lamp off. “Wait, don’t you want to celebrate our engagement?”
“Sleep, baby.”
You pout a bit. “Don’t you think we celebrated enough tonight?”
You stare at him and he sighs. “There’s plenty of time for celebrating our fake engagement some more tomorrow,” he shuts the lamp off and wrangles you down with him. “Now it’s time for sleep.”
“‘m not tired,” you mumble, obviously lying. “I could go all night.”
You settle onto your pillow and he strokes your cheek. “I know, sweetheart, you’re a fighter.”
You nod as you begin to doze off.
He notices the ring still on your finger and he smiles softly.
The hangover you’ll be sporting tomorrow will definitely have been worth it.
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ty for reading!!! i hope you enjoyed <3
tagging: @emmyrosee @luvring @dira333 @tetzoro
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harunayuuka2060 · 9 months ago
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Leal: Master Akihiko.
Akihiko: ...
Akihiko: What is his reply?
Leal: ...
Leal: He will cooperate.
Akihiko: ...
Akihiko: *smiles*
Akihiko: See? I told you, Leal.
Leal: *smiles* *but then his expression becomes serious* However, your father wants to have a conversation with you.
Akihiko: Set a date.
Leal: *bows to him* Yes, Master Akihiko.
Yuurin's mother: Dear, can you help me recall what Yuurin used to be like when he was younger?
Yuurin's father: Of course, dear. Where do you want to start?
Yuurin's mother: From when he was born.
Yuurin's father: Hmm... Ah, do you remember how he frowned when the doctor held him?
Yuurin's mother: Did he? *chuckles*
Yuurin's father: Yes. You were afraid that he would grow up having an attitude.
Yuurin's mother: Indeed. But he grew up as a fine gentleman. *as she writes in the journal*
Yuurin's father: ...
Leal: We can assure you that nothing will happen to the madame.
Leal: That's why, I beg you, sir.
Leal: Help us to set Lady Yuurin free.
Yuurin: ...
Yuurin: Ruggie-senpai, what do you think?
Ruggie: Hmm... I think your hair has become fluffier.
Yuurin: Is that a good thing?
Ruggie: Why, of course!
Yuurin: ...
Yuurin: Do I look more feminine now?
Ruggie: Yep! *grins and gives her a thumbs up*
Ruggie: Oh! Shishishi! Yuurin, are you interested in trying hair glitter?
Yuurin: Hair glitter?
Ruggie: Yes! It will make your hair sparkle like the stars in the night sky!
Leona: ...
Leona: *pulls out his phone and then takes a picture of Yuurin*
Yuurin: ???
Leona: You look too cute. I'm sending this to Aki. *then walks away*
Yuurin: ...
Rook: Monsieur Tranquille! Today, you exude such captivating loveliness!
Vil: I agree, though I feel that whoever did your hair just dumped the whole bottle of hair glitter.
Yuurin: Ruggie-senpai did.
Vil: ...
Vil: Alright. I'll be the one styling your hair from now on.
Yuurin: You don't have to, Vil-senpai-
Vil: I insist.
Yuurin: ...
Lilia: Ooh~ Is that Yuurin?
Silver: Hm? Something's different about him.
Lilia: What do you mean?
Silver: He looks dreamy.
Lilia: ...
Silver: Ah, it might be because of his hair.
Lilia: ...
Lilia: *smirks* Silver, why not go ahead and compliment him directly?
Silver: Huh?
Lilia: *chuckles* Just go! *pushing Silver*
Silver: Good afternoon, Yuurin.
Yuurin: Good afternoon, Silver-senpai.
Silver: You look dreamy today.
Yuurin: Thank you, Silver-senpai.
Silver: That's all I wanted to say.
Lilia: *appears* Huh?! What do you mean 'that's all you wanted to say'?
Silver: Fathe- I mean, Lilia-senpai, what's wrong?
Lilia: Yuurin, you see... *smirks*
Lilia: When Silver saw how cute you looked, he couldn't help but want to take a photo together.
Silver: No, I didn't-
Lilia: You wouldn't mind, right? Okay! Silver, go stand next to him.
Silver: *confused but followed anyway*
Lilia: Fufu~
Yuurin and Silver: ...
Lilia: *frowns* Silver, put your arm around Yuurin's shoulder.
Silver: Um, like this?
Lilia: And Yuurin, please put your arm around his waist.
Yuurin: Like this, Lilia-senpai?
Lilia: Fufu~ Yes. That's perfect.
Yuurin and Silver: ...
Malleus and Sebek: ...
Malleus: What is this, Lilia? *seeing the photo of Yuurin and Silver displayed at their dorm's lounge*
Lilia: Don't they look adorable~?
Malleus: Yes, they do-
Sebek: AAAHHH!!!!
Lilia and Malleus: ...
Lilia: Sebek?
Sebek: M-My apologies, Lilia-sama.
Malleus: ...
Malleus: *smirks* Sebek, are you jealous?
Sebek: N-No, Waka-sama!
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