#(*gestures at the mess that is my reply*) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lowkeyren · 4 months ago

Text

—childhood sweetheart!

in which : as kids, you gave him a lollipop to thank him for his help, though you had no idea your kind gesture would spark a blossoming friendship —that would soon evolve into something far sweeter than candy.

pairing : alhaitham x gn!reader

wc 3.6k, childhood friends to (implied) lovers, one bittersweet scene but it's 99% tooth rotting fluff, kaveh n sumeru gang cameo!!, art by @/anno_meiji on x. reblogs r much appreciated!!!

@tragedy-of-commons @iceunhie fellow pissoners that told me to @ them + special thanks to beloved @synqiri for giving me ideas when i wrote this, salutations.

the house of daena was quiet, the air thick with the comforting scent of old books and polished wood; soft chatters among akademiya students drifted through the air, a gentle hum that mingled with the rustling of pages as scholars immersed themselves in their studies.

at a corner, you sat cross-legged, surrounded by volumes of scholarly tomes. yet, the real challenge before you wasn’t the big words or thick pages —but a far more irritating one: your shoelaces.

no matter how many times you tried, the laces refused to cooperate. they twisted and knotted themselves in ways that made you feel as if they had a mind of their own. you tugged at them over and over again, your small hands growing clumsy with frustration, making your struggle feel even more monumental.

you let out a small, exasperated sigh, your cheeks growing warm with the mounting irritation. who lets a five-year-old wear shoes with laces anyway?

a few feet away, sitting at a low table, was a boy a few years older than you, absorbed in a thick book that looked far too advanced for his age; the dense text and intricate diagrams didn’t seem to faze him at all. his expression remained one of calm detachment, his eyes moving over the pages meticulously. though even amidst his immersion in the book's complex diagrams and equations, your struggle still drew his attention.

with a sigh that sounded more out of obligation than concern, he set his book aside with precise care and approached you with a smooth, deliberate stride. his expression remained neutral, his eyes barely meeting yours as he knelt beside you.

“you’re having trouble with your laces,” he remarked, his tone even and matter-of-fact.

you looked up and nodded at the boy, relief evident in your eyes. “can you help me?” you asked, your voice wavering slightly with embarrassment.

without a word, he reached for your laces. you watched as he deftly untangled the mess you’d created, his movements precise and unhurried. with a few twists and loops, he had the laces neatly tied in no time. “there,” he said, standing up and brushing his hands off.

“thank you for helping me... um—”

“alhaitham,” the boy, who you now knew as alhaitham, spoke in a calm voice.

you smiled in return, relieved. “thank you, alhaitham.”

“it was nothing. i’m glad i could assist.” he said before glancing down at your shoelaces again, his tone as impersonal as ever.

you reached into your pocket and pulled out a small, brightly wrapped lollipop, its cheerful wrapping seemed almost too vibrant for his reserved demeanour. nevertheless, you held it out to him, “i want to give you this,” you said earnestly. “as a small token of my appreciation!”

he glanced at the lollipop, then back at you. you simply tilted your head in response. after a brief moment, he accepted it with a slight nod. “thanks,” he said simply before pocketing the sweet.

you smiled, “i’m [name], by the way.”

“i’ll remember that,” he replied, his tone softening slightly.

with that, you gathered your books, carefully stacking them in your arms as you rose to your feet. “i need to go now. see you around, alhaitham!” you grinned and gave a small wave before turning to leave, your footsteps growing faint as you walked away.

and though little-you didn’t know it at the time, that small act of kindness, wrapped in bright paper, would linger in his memory for years to come.

years passed. by now, it was clear that alhaitham was a prodigy, the sharpest of minds among those his age —a teenager admired by many, regardless of age. yet, such exceptional talent often attracts a level of jealousy that goes beyond mere admiration.

however, much like his aloof demeanour, he remained indifferent to the opinions and whispers of displeasure of others, even now, as he stood surrounded by students, their voices dripping with sarcasm and disdain.

"so, alhaitham," one of them jeered, "being a genius must be lonely, huh? too smart to have any real friends?" the others snickered along, clearly revelling in his deliberate silence. they envied the recognition and success he had achieved —things they could only dream of, and that envy fueled their petty desire to bring him down, even if only for a fleeting moment.

enough was enough.

“hey, give it a rest,” you interjected, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “oh, wait —it’s not like you have anything better to do than make fun of someone who’s actually achieved something, right?”

the laughter from the group began to die down as they turned their attention to you, the tension in the air thickening.

you tilted your head in feigned curiosity. “or is it the only thing you’re good at?”

the student’s face twisted into a scowl, clearly caught off guard by your retort. after a moment of fumbling for words, he muttered defensively, “whatever. like you’re so perfect yourself.”

you crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow. “seriously? that’s the best you’ve got?”

you met their gazes with a defiant smirk, enjoying the way their bravado faltered under your words. “it’s one thing to have nothing between those ears of yours, but there’s no need to be a jerk about it.”

they hesitated for a moment, stung by your remarks and clearly feeling their egos take a hit, they found themselves at a loss for words. finally, one of them muttered something under his breath before they all turned and slunk away, embarrassed.

as the last of their footsteps faded, you turned back to alhaitham, who was watching you with a slightly raised eyebrow. "you didn’t have to do that," he murmured. you shrugged, offering him a wry smile. "i know. but i wanted to.”

“besides, someone has to keep those idiots in check."

alhaitham regarded you for a moment longer before the corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly. "thank you.” you caught the subtle shift in his expression, the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips. it was rare to see him react this way, and it made your small victory feel all the more rewarding.

you couldn’t help but grin.

“—you smiled!” giggling, you leaned in closer to him, as if sharing a secret. “i didn’t think i’d ever see that day.”

“no, i did not.” his expression snapped back to its usual deadpan, as if his momentary lapse had never happened.

“no? well, then you should smile more.” you slid into the chair next to him,

“why?”

you pulled out your book and opened it to the page marked by your bookmark. “you look good when you smile,” you said casually, your eyes still focused on the material in front of you as you unwrapped a candy and chewed on it, savouring the sweet taste.

alhaitham didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed intently on the pages in front of him. though when he briefly turned his head to the side, his stoic expression faltered.

a faint smile tugged at the edges of his lips; he angled the book slightly higher, hiding his expression from view, while the subtle curve of his lips remained just barely visible.

it was a fleeting moment —nearly imperceptible, but unmistakably there.

“happy birthday, [name]!”

you clink your glass with dehya’s, the sound of the toast ringing out amidst the lively chatter. she grins and downs her drink in one swift motion, her laughter echoing as the others join in, raising their glasses to you.

nilou approaches you with a soft smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “i have something for you,” she says, holding out a small, intricately wrapped box. you open it to find a delicate bracelet nestled inside.

“i hope today brings you as much joy as you bring to us.” you smile and thank her as she helps you fasten the bracelet around your wrist.

you glance over to where alhaitham is sitting, only to find him already looking at you; he gives you a slight nod before burying his face back into his book. though you notice that alhaitham's usual noise-cancelling headphones are conspicuously absent, as if choosing to be fully present, especially when you're near.

suddenly, you feel a tap on your shoulder. when you turn around, you’re greeted with kaveh’s unmistakable grin, “surprise!” he exclaims with a flourish, his voice brimming with infectious enthusiasm. he extends a beautifully hand-carved, ornate wooden box to you, “go on, open it!” he urges, barely containing his excitement.

with a nod, you carefully lift the lid, revealing the contents inside. the box is lined with rich velvet, and nestled within is a tiny, intricately designed music box and a set of miniature sculptures —as expected, his craftsmanship is nothing short of impeccable. you thank him graciously and carefully set the box down on the table beside tighnari’s gift.

as the evening unfolds, you notice alhaitham occasionally glancing up from his book, his gaze fixing on you, each glance subtly drawing your attention. his eyes, typically so absorbed in the pages, now linger on you with a soft intensity that speaks volumes.

it’s obvious that the night has come to an end when you glance to your side and can’t help but chuckle at the sight of kaveh, completely blackout drunk and slumped over the couch.

“don’t worry, we’ll handle him,” cyno heads for the door after lifting kaveh over his shoulder with ease; he shares a knowing glance with tighnari. “enjoy the rest of your night!” with a final wave, they disappear out the door, leaving you and alhaitham alone in the cozy tranquillity of your home.

“looks like it’s just us now,” you say, sinking onto the sofa beside him and stifling a yawn, the night clearly taking a toll on you.

“indeed,” alhaitham replies, his gaze softening as he looks over at you. he reaches behind him and holds his hand out towards you with his fist closed.

“here, a reward for your hard work,” he opens his palm to reveal a small piece of your favourite candy resting on it. “happy birthday, [name].”

the light from the candles flickers softly, casting a warm glow that dances across the room. it bathes the space in a gentle radiance, highlighting the perfect angles of his face and making him look all the more handsome.

alhaitham had never been a big fan of sweets. to him, they were a trivial indulgence, neither particularly enticing nor off-putting.

but for you, he might learn to like it more.

after all, if all it takes is a piece of candy to see your smile —sweeter than any treat known to mankind, then maybe there's a reason to enjoy them after all.

as you begin to nod off, he gently strokes your hair and carefully adjusts your position, guiding your head to rest on his chest.

with a soft sigh, he blows out the candles.

perhaps rationality has its limits when it comes to matters of the heart, for he can’t help but feel that love, in all its irrationality, defies the logic he clings to so fiercely. “love” didn’t follow the neat, predictable patterns of reason —it was wild, unpredictable, and utterly beyond his control.

yet, despite its chaos, or perhaps because of it, he was okay with it —he was okay with you.

“is it necessary for you to leave?”

“sorry haitham, it's for my research. but i’ll be gone for just a few years, and we'll cross paths again before you know it.”

just a few.. years? you must’ve really underestimated how long that’ll feel. he lets out a disapproving huff, his brows knitting together. “...where will you be going?”

“fontaine,” you replied, “the leylines there hold the key to my research, and it’s an opportunity i can’t pass up.” you hesitate for a moment before adding softly, “i wish you could come along… but with your duties as the acting grand sage, i understand that it’s not possible.”

“i suppose you’ve already made up your mind.”

you nodded, trying to muster a reassuring smile. “i have. but i’ll make sure to write whenever i can!” he studies your face for a long moment, as if committing every detail to memory, afraid he’ll forget the moment you turn your back to him.

“just... promise me you’ll take care of yourself,” he finally said, his tone more tender compared to a moment ago. “and don’t lose yourself in your research.”

you reach out, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “i promise, haitham.” you open his palm and place a small candy in the centre before closing his fingers around it. “something to remember me by,” you add, your voice barely above a whisper as you look up at him.

his eyes trail your figure, his hands clutching the candy tightly, the wrapping paper crinkling in his fist as you start to walk away. midway, you pause, turning around to look at him once more, you flash him a warm smile before waving goodbye.

this time, unlike the first time you met, he returns the gesture with a wave of his own.

it’s unusual, uncharacteristic for alhaitham to lose his focus so easily.

the subtle crease in his brow —a dead giveaway to anyone who knew him well; and being his roommate, kaveh noticed it first.

leaning against the table, he glanced at the open book, then back at alhaitham. "you know, that page won’t read itself," he quipped, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

alhaitham didn’t bother looking up, his finger idly tracing the edge of the page. "i’m well aware." after a moment, he finally turned the page with a slight frown, his mind clearly not on the book.

cyno, sitting across from him, folded his arms and leaned back in his seat. "you’ve been staring at that same paragraph for nearly an hour.” he remarks, his tone laced with amusement. tighnari raises his eyebrows, lightly swirling the drink in his cup, “it’s rare to see you this distracted. must be something—or someone—truly exceptional."

alhaitham finally looks up, meeting their gazes with a flat expression, “you all certainly have a lot of free time," he remarked dryly.

cyno shrugs, shaking his head. "you’re just making it too easy, alhaitham."

tighnari, however, leans forward slightly, his gaze softening with genuine concern despite the playful edge in his voice just a minute ago. “but seriously,” he adds, “it’s perfectly fine to admit you miss [name]. we all do, after all, it has been a year.”

alhaitham sighs heavily, closing the book with a soft thud. “i’m perfectly fine."

"sure you are," kaveh drawls, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "it’s not like you’ve been more irritable than usual —or, i don’t know, distracted by a certain someone who’s not here."

for once, alhaitham doesn’t offer a retort. instead, he quietly unwraps a candy and slips it into his mouth, letting its sweet taste wash over him.

but that is all the answer they need.

unbothered from the looks he receives from his friends, he signals the manager over, “boss, a box of macaroons to go, please.”

later that night, alhaitham sits in his room —he absently reaches for the box of macaroons but his hand lands on the bright candy wrapper crumpled on the table, though it seems out of place amidst the quiet room, it remains a perfect, poignant reminder of you, in his heart.

the notion of your sweetness is tantalising, one that mingles with the lingering taste of the macaroons on his palate, making him yearn for the real experience, to discover if you, too, could leave such a lasting impression.

—and truth to be told, i really missed you too. there's so much more i want to share with you, so many things i’ve seen and felt that only you would truly understand. but lucky for us, i’ll be at l'encre des marées in the court of fontaine, for the next few days! haitham, come visit me, will you?

alhaitham’s footsteps echo softly against the cobblestone street as he approaches the address you gave him.

a bookstore, huh. it seems fitting enough.

he folds your letter and slips it into the pocket of his coat; the gentle chime of the bell above the door announces his arrival. the warm, ambient light of the store envelops him —a voice rings out, welcoming him, but he pays it no mind.

he moves silently between the tall bookshelves, his gaze sweeping over the interior, searching for you within the labyrinth of aisles. though with no sign of you in sight, a faint crease forms between his brows, a subtle yet telling sign of his disappointment.

he comes to a stop in front of one of the shelves, the familiar scent of paper and ink wafting around him. might as well get something, he thinks. his hand hovers over the spines, his fingers brushing lightly against them; the choice is almost arbitrary, driven more by habit than intent.

the title barely registers in his mind as he turns away from the shelf. with the book in hand, he makes his way towards the counter. he places the book down with a soft thud, and lets his mind drift to you —your latest letter, the anticipation of seeing you here, the subtle disappointment of your absence; he imagines the sound of your voice, the way you might have greeted him had you been there, the little gestures that are make you, so distinctly, you.

the cashier’s voice pulls him back to the present. “thank you for your patronage!” the words are accompanied by the soft rustling of paper as the bag is handed over to him. he reaches out to take it, but just as he’s about to withdraw his hand, something else is pressed into his palm —a small lollipop.

he blinks, momentarily caught off guard. what? is this a… fontaine custom? he turns the lollipop over in his hand, the cashier’s voice continues, cheerful and slightly sing-song. “don’t forget to visit us again—”

or is he losing his mind? because the sound of your voice, so clear and familiar, “—alhaitham.” echoes his name as if you were standing right infront of him.

his eyes snap up, eyes widening ever so slightly as he looks at the cashier. and there you are, behind the counter, your gaze meeting his with a familiar warmth. he finds himself staring at you, the very person he had been hoping to see; you smile at him, the same smile he had imagined countless times... and his heart still skips a beat.

“life here in fontaine has been quite a journey.” you stroll side by side, alhaitham listens quietly, absorbing every detail as you recount your journey. your research, originally projected to take more time, has progressed exceptionally well; the results are promising, and you’re now ahead of schedule, which means that you’ll be back in sumeru in less than a week’s time (much to his pleasure).

as you both turn a corner, you suddenly stop and turn to face him. “i’ve been doing all the talking so far,” you smile up at him, “what about you?”

“nothing much, things have been…” he begins, pausing as he searches for the right words. he glances around, just as street lamps flicker to life before continuing, “...rather routine.”

(he’s not lying, no, never to you. “routine” as in routinely thinking about you nonstop —yes, that’s the underlying meaning, though his outward implication is quite… mundane.)

though what you didn’t quite expect next was for alhaitham to extend his hand towards you, his pinky raised in a gesture like an earnest request for a pinky promise. dumbfounded, you chuckle softly, “what’s this for?”

without waiting for an answer, you decide to indulge him, linking your pinky with his. as your thumbs briefly touch, you catch the look in his eyes —serious, yet with a softness that makes your heart skip. “a promise that i’ll be by your side as long as sugar tastes sweet,” he says, his voice low and sincere.

he gently turns his hand downward, his fingers sliding smoothly between yours, interlocking them in a firm yet tender grip. slowly, he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the back of it. “so, come back with me, [name].”

his thumb continues to trace lazy circles on your skin, drawing you closer. leaning in, his breath is warm against your cheek, the space between you vanishes as he tilts his head slightly, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours, close enough that you can almost taste the promise in his words.

his eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up. you catch his gaze and a small smile starts to form, “you don’t have to ask me twice.”

your eyes flutter shut as his lips brush softly against yours —and he tastes the first bite of a sun-warmed strawberry, a burst of sweetness that lingers on his lips, leaving him craving more. utterly intoxicating, like the scent of honey carried on a warm breeze, filling the air with a fragrance that makes him close his eyes and breathe deeply, savouring the moment.

you taste just like summer —vivid, unforgettable, and leaving him yearning for those endless days and nights, where his world is alive with sparking memories he clings to as the seasons change; so much so that even when autumn's chill begins to settle, he can't help but reach out for the warmth that only your presence can bring.

but most importantly,

you taste unbelievably sweet.

good question google

MASTERLIST.

#✧renwrites!#—stellaronhvnters.#alhaitham x reader #al haitam x reader #alhaitham x you #al haitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham fluff #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin x y/n #alhaitham genshin #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #genshin impact #alhaitham

1K notes · View notes

transmunsons · 3 months ago

Text

Steve Harrington had known for a while that he was on thin ice. His parents let him change his hair and clothes and name after a harrowing night that ended with him in a hospital bed.

So he tried to behave. They couldn’t complain as long as he played the perfect son. He did everything right. He excelled at sports, he didn’t make a fuss, he even fell in love with a wonderful girl.

Though, things got a little rocky when his dealer left town and handed things over to the local freak show. When he went to pick up his bottles, Loudmouth Munson tried to get under his skin.

“Y’know I always had a feeling you were doping.” Munson said, leaning against the picnic table.

“Would you just hand it over?” Steve held out his hand for the containers Munson was keeping hostage.

“This is a lot, Harrington, you’d think Hawkins would have actually won a championship by now with you on this stuff.”

Steve resisted the urge to rip it from his hands. Munson grinned an insufferable smile, like he enjoyed how much Steve was glaring at him.

“I’m not taking it because of basketball,” Steve said.

“So why then?”

“I don’t have to tell you shit.”

“Dude,” Munson raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Relax, I’m just messing with you. Call it fair play. Didn’t think you’d be so sensitive about it.”

Steve’s hands were still itching to grab it. Munson seemed to notice how antsy he was, following his anxious gaze flickering between the package and Munson’s face.

“Don’t ya trust me, Harrington?” He said.

“Not even a little,” Steve replied. He felt a tendon jump in his jaw.

“Can’t handle the thought of not having your steroids? Some people actually need these hormones to survive, rich boy.” Munson’s tone switched from teasing to something more somber, or maybe bitter. It was hard for him to tell those things.

Under normal circumstances he would have never said what he ended up saying. Munson had a way of pushing his buttons.

“I need them.” Steve watched an ant crawl around a knot in the wood in front of him. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. Nobody in this town would understand.”

Steve looked up at a shocked Eddie Munson and held out a handful of bills. “Give me my drugs, take your money, and don’t tell fucking anybody about this. You got it?”

Eddie didn’t move for a long moment, carefully studying Steve and his outstretched hand. His rings flashed as he pushed the package over to Steve’s side of the table and grabbed the money in one swift movement.

“‘Course, Harrington. You get dealer-dealee confidentiality just like everybody else.”

Steve was glad the transaction was over. He grabbed his hormones and stood up to leave when Eddie’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“You’re not the only one.”

Eddie looked very serious, dark curls brushing the tops of his furrowed brows. It was a good look on him.

Steve felt his hopes rise. There were others like him in town. But, how could he be sure that Eddie was talking about what he thought he was talking about?

“Munson,” Steve said cautiously, “I don’t think we’re on the same page.”

Eddie, still seated, crossed his arms. “I guess there’s no way to know for sure unless one of us says it plainly, and I’m sure as hell not going to. I don’t want to end up on the news.”

“You don’t trust me?” Steve echoed, quirking up the side of his mouth.

It got a small smile from Munson. “You don’t even know who it is; dealer-dealee confidentiality goes both ways. I can’t go around blabbing about what drugs everybody’s on, I’d alienate my customer base.”

“Then I guess we’re at a standstill.”

Eddie looked at him with a curious expression. “I guess so.”

Steve took a few steps away from the table, leaves crunching under feet, before turning around. He hesitated. Eddie looked at him with those dark brown eyes of his, which didn’t help his resolve.

“Eddie,” the man’s eyebrows raised at the use of his first name. Steve continued, “if you ever feel like blabbing, you know where to find me.”

Eddie stayed quiet for once, the sounds of the woods surrounding the two of them as they lingered.

“Same to you, Steve,” He finally replied.

#t4t steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #ftm eddie munson #trans eddie munson #eddie x steve #steddie ficlet #ftm steve harrington #trans steve harrington #steddie

1K notes · View notes

d-z20 · 25 days ago

Text

Neighbourly Care part 4 (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You go over to Agatha and Rio's for help with your Spanish class and they do help but you also get taught another lesson

-OR-

Agatha fuck you in their home office (while you practice Spanish with Rio) and when you make a mistake she stops fucking you until you get it right.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, Top Mommy Agatha, Daddy Rio, more smut, orgasm denial (Rio), squirting, praise, slight degredation, strap on use, even more smut

Words: 4.6k and 80% is you getting fucked

A/N: This one's for all you burnt out gifted kids out there. Also, my Spanish really isn't very good, especially when I'm writing gn!Reader in a gendered language 💀 I'm sorry if it's jarring.

It’s the Saturday after Thanksgiving, and you’re sitting cross-legged on your bed, a growing sense of frustration gnawing at you as you stare down at your Spanish assignment. Your sweatpants are cosy and your cropped vest keeps you cool, but none of it is helping you figure out why this language feels so impossible to grasp.

Your workbook lies open next to your laptop, half-hearted notes scrawled across the page. The conjugation charts mock you, the verbs swimming together into an indecipherable mess. You sigh, running a hand through your hair before grabbing your phone and opening up the messages.

MILFs Anonymous

~13:26

You: any chance i can come over for some help? 😩

You stare at the screen, gnawing at your bottom lip as you wait for a response. It doesn’t take long.

Agatha: Try again, darling.

You: uhhh

~13:28

You: Necesito ayuda con mi español. ¿Puedo ir a vuestra casa, por favor?

Rio: Claro que sí, cariño :)

Agatha: You used Google Translate, didn’t you?

You: Sí 😁

Agatha: We’ll be back from shopping around 4—come over then.

The messages bring a small smile to your face, despite the knot of nerves tightening in your stomach. You can already hear Rio’s warm, teasing tone in the words and Agatha’s steadier, more composed presence offering quiet reassurance.

Your mind drifts back to Thanksgiving dinner. You’d mentioned, almost as a throwaway comment, that you were struggling in your Introduction to Spanish class. It had been enough to spark Rio’s interest—her eyes lighting up as she eagerly offered to tutor you. Her enthusiasm had been impossible to resist, especially when paired with Agatha’s wholehearted support.

“You’re welcome over anytime,” Agatha had said, her voice kind but with an edge of finality that left no room for argument. “You’ll get the help you need.”

And now, here you were, agreeing to yet another visit, the prospect of being in their presence again already making your skin tingle.

The clock ticks on as you attempt to focus on your workbook, but your thoughts keep drifting back to the two of them. You wonder what kind of "lesson" Rio has in mind and whether Agatha will be there to offer her own... unique form of support.

—

When the clock finally strikes 4, you grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder, calling out as you head for the door.

“I’m going over to Agatha and Rio’s!”

Your mom’s voice floats in from the kitchen. “Okay, sweetie! Your dad and I are out with Aunt Carol for dinner, so we might not see you when you get back. Make sure you thank them for all their help!”

“Will do!” you reply, slipping out the door and walking the short distance to their house.

Your heart pounds as you approach the door, excitement and nerves intertwining. Before you can knock, the door swings open, and Rio stands there, her eyes lighting up as she sees you.

“Right on time,” she says, her voice a little higher-pitched than usual. She looks slightly flustered, a flush on her cheeks as she waves you inside. “Come in, come in.”

You step through the threshold, noting how Rio shifts on her feet like she’s barely holding still. She gestures toward the hallway, motioning you ahead of her.

“Agatha’s in the office,” she says, her words rushed. Her lips twitch into a quick smile as she guides you down the hall.

The office door is already open, and Agatha’s presence is immediately noticeable. She’s reclining on a sleek leather couch, looking effortlessly casual in a soft rust-coloured jacket and a white top. Her hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders, and there’s a small smile on her face as she watches you enter.

“Perfect timing,” she says warmly, her tone smooth.

Rio closes the door behind the two of you, crossing the room to sit at her desk opposite Agatha’s. She moves quickly but jumps slightly when she sits, her hand gripping the edge of her desk for a moment as she adjusts herself in the chair. Her cheeks are still tinged pink, and you can’t help but notice the faint sheen of sweat on her forehead.

“You okay?” you ask, sliding into the chair at Agatha’s desk.

“Fine!” Rio chirps, her smile a little too wide. “Let’s get started, yeah? Verb conjugations—your favourite.”

She flips open her own notebook, launching into a rapid explanation of present-tense endings. You do your best to focus, but something about her energy feels off. Her breath catches occasionally as she talks, and her legs bounce slightly under the desk.

Behind you, Agatha doesn’t say a word. You can feel her eyes on the two of you; her calm, steady presence is a stark contrast to Rio’s restlessness. When you glance back at her, she’s lounging like a queen, one arm draped over the back of the couch, her lips quirked in a knowing smile.

Rio’s voice quivers slightly as she explains another verb conjugation, her hands fidgeting with her notebook as though it’s the only thing tethering her to the moment. You do your best to follow along, but the tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Alright,” Rio says, her voice pitching slightly higher than normal. “So for nosotros, hablar becomes—”

“They deserve a break,” Agatha cuts in smoothly, her voice like honey.

Rio immediately stops talking, her eyes darting nervously toward Agatha, who is now sitting forward slightly, her hand resting on her knee. She pats her lap, her lips curling into a gentle yet commanding smile as her gaze lands on you.

“Come here, sweetheart,” she says softly, the words sounding so innocuous yet carrying an undeniable weight.

You hesitate for a moment before standing, your heart thudding in your chest as you cross the short distance to her. Agatha’s hands immediately find your waist, guiding you to sit sideways in her lap. She wraps her arms around you, holding you close as she presses a kiss to your temple.

“Much better,” she murmurs, her lips brushing against your skin.

Behind you, Rio shifts in her seat again, her breath hitching audibly. A quiet whimper escapes her, and you glance back to see her biting her bottom lip, her fingers gripping the edge of her desk like she’s barely keeping herself together.

Agatha notices too, of course. Her sharp eyes miss nothing. “Continúa mi amor,” she speaks to Rio, her voice low and lilting.

Rio blinks rapidly, her cheeks flushing even darker as she nods. “Sí, mi vida.”

She fumbles with her notebook again, launching into another explanation about verb conjugations, but her words are stilted, her voice trembling slightly.

Agatha’s hand rests innocently on your thigh at first, her fingers lightly tracing small circles through the fabric of your sweatpants. You try to focus on what Rio is saying, but the warmth of Agatha’s touch is distracting. The circles grow larger, her fingers inching higher with every pass, and soon you feel her hand creeping up toward the apex of your thighs.

Your breath hitches, and you glance up at her. “What are you doing?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Agatha smiles down at you, her expression sweet but laced with something far more mischievous. “Teaching you a lesson,” she replies smoothly, her tone teasing. “I haven’t forgotten about yours and Rio’s little escapade in the hotel room that morning.”

Your eyes widen in realisation, and as you shift slightly in her lap, you catch a glimpse of her phone resting on the arm of the couch. The app open on the screen makes your stomach flip—it’s the controls for a long-distance vibrator. You glance at Rio, who is squirming more noticeably now, her breath coming in shallow pants as her eyes dart between you and her notebook.

“Rio is going to learn to keep her hands to herself,” Agatha continues, her voice low and steady. “And you, sweetheart, are going to learn to control yourself.”

Her words send a shiver down your spine, and you swallow hard as she gives you a gentle nudge. “Stand up,” she commands softly.

You obey, your legs shaky as you rise to your feet. Agatha’s hands find the waistband of your sweatpants, her fingers tugging them down with deliberate slowness until they pool at your ankles.

“Mmm, such a good pet,” she hums, her praise making your cheeks heat as you step out of the fabric and sit back down on her lap.

This time, she adjusts your position, guiding you so that you’re sitting more squarely in the middle of her lap. As you settle, you feel something hard pressing against you through her pants, and your breath catches in your throat.

“Now,” Agatha says, her tone deceptively calm as she leans back slightly, one arm draped possessively around your waist. “Let’s see if you and Daddy can do as you’re told.”

You swallow hard, nodding as you try to focus on Rio, who looks just as flustered as you feel. Her cheeks are tinged pink, and she avoids looking directly at Agatha’s hand, which rests high on your thigh. Rio clears her throat, her voice trembling slightly as she continues.

“¿Cómo se dice... they speak... en español?” She asks, gripping her pen tightly.

“Ellos hablan,” you manage to reply, though your voice wavers when Agatha’s hand starts to move. Her fingers trail lazily up your inner thigh, barely brushing the fabric of your underwear.

“Muy bien, cariño,” Agatha murmurs, her lips brushing against your ear. “But don’t lose focus now. Keep going.”

Rio nods quickly, her words spilling out in a rush. “Y... y cómo se dice... we are speaking?”

You open your mouth to answer, but it’s hard to form a coherent thought when Agatha’s fingers are now teasing the edge of your underwear; her touch so light it sends shivers up your spine. Your hips shift involuntarily when her fingers dip below the fabric, and Agatha hums in approval, her grip tightening around your waist to hold you still.

“Estamos hablando,” you finally gasp, the words barely audible as Agatha’s fingers press more firmly against you.

“Perfecto,” Agatha purrs, her tone dripping with satisfaction. “But you’re trembling, sweetheart. Are you sure you’re concentrating?”

Rio looks like she’s about to combust, her leg bouncing under the desk as she stumbles over her next question. “¿Cómo se dice... uh... you are speaking?”

You try to respond, but your voice falters when Agatha’s fingers begin to move in slow, deliberate circles. A soft moan escapes your lips before you can stop it, and you feel your cheeks heat in embarrassment.

“Focus,” Agatha whispers, though her actions are anything but helpful. “Vamos, nena. Dime la respuesta.”

You choke out, “Tú estás hablando,” but your voice is barely steady. Rio squirms in her chair, her breathing uneven, and her gaze flickers to Agatha’s hand for the briefest second before she looks away again, biting her lip.

“Very good,” Agatha praises, her voice sending a thrill through you. Then she taps your hip, her fingers stilling for a moment. “Lift up for me, sweetheart.”

You hesitate, glancing at her, but the look in her eyes leaves no room for argument. You rise slightly, your legs trembling, and she reaches into her waistband, pulling something out—a purple strap larger than the one she used on you before. She pulls your underwear to the side before guiding you back down onto her lap.

The moment you’re seated again, you can feel it—hard and unyielding—pressing deeply inside you. Your breath catches at the sudden, overwhelming sensation, and Agatha smirks, her hands settling firmly on your hips to hold you still, ensuring you feel every inch. The pressure against your walls is unrelenting, a heady mix of pleasure and control that sends sparks shooting up your spine. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, each shallow breath catching as heat pools low in your belly, threatening to consume you entirely.

“Now,” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry, “let’s see if you can finish your lesson without completely falling apart. “Adelante, Río, y no seas fácil con les.”

Rio’s throat bobs as she swallows hard, her wide eyes betraying the tension coiling in her body. Her voice is barely a whisper as she continues. “¿Cómo se dice... we spoke?”

You open your mouth to reply, but Agatha’s hands begin to guide your hips in slow, deliberate movements, each motion sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. The friction is maddening, stealing the air from your lungs as a soft whimper escapes your lips. Your pulse thrums in your ears, and your thighs quiver, every nerve alight with sensation as you struggle to keep your focus, the words slipping through your mind like water through a sieve.

“Ha-habla…mos,” you stammer, but your voice is shaky and breathless.

Agatha chuckles softly, her lips brushing against your neck. “Otra vez,” she says, her tone carrying a hint of mockery. “Try again, sweetheart. Say it louder. Let Daddy hear you.”

Across from you, Rio is barely holding it together. She rocks faintly in her chair, her thighs pressing together as if seeking relief. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip, and her free hand grips the desk so hard it looks like she might snap the wood in half. Her breath comes in uneven gasps; a small whimper escapes her as she fights to maintain her composure.

“Vamos,” Agatha whispers, her breath warm against your ear as she tightens her grip on your hips, helping you grind down harder against her. The tension inside you builds with every slow, deliberate movement, your body instinctively chasing the friction. A soft, needy sound escapes you, and you shiver as her voice washes over you, low and commanding, grounding you even as she unravels you. “No te distraigas.”

You let out a shaky moan, your head falling back against her shoulder as the sensations threaten to overwhelm you. Your heart pounds, your skin is flushed and hypersensitive, and every touch feels amplified, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Words hover on the tip of your tongue, but they dissolve into broken gasps before you can speak.

Just as your eyes flutter shut, lost in the haze of it all, Agatha reaches for her phone with one hand, tapping the screen.

“Ughhhh, Aggie, no,” Rio whines frustratedly, her body jerking slightly at the sudden loss of sensation. She glares at Agatha, who raises a single brow in amusement.

“No tan rápida mi vida,” Agatha says smoothly, her voice dripping with authority. “You’ll wait until I say so.”

Rio bites her lip, her cheeks flushed, and you can feel the tension in the room thickening.

But you don’t have time to dwell on it—Agatha’s movements beneath you are maddening, each shift sending a spark of pleasure through you that makes coherent thought nearly impossible. Her hips tilt upward slightly with each slow, deliberate thrust, the firm pressure pushing you closer to the edge with every pass. It’s intoxicating, the way her body presses into you, filling you with a deep ache that you can’t escape. You try to answer the next question Rio poses, but the words come out in a garbled mess, your focus completely shattered.

Agatha clicks her tongue disapprovingly and stills your hips with a firm grip. The sudden lack of motion leaves you aching, your thighs trembling as you try to shift for relief, but her hold on you is unyielding. The throbbing heat between your legs grows unbearable, each second of stillness stretching endlessly. The whimper of frustration that escapes you only earns you a soft mocking chuckle.

“¿Qué dije sobre enfocar?” She scolds, her voice low and commanding. “Answer Daddy, or we stop right here.”

Your face burns with embarrassment as you force yourself to focus, stumbling over the words as you manage to form a proper sentence. Agatha hums in approval, but she doesn’t let you move again just yet.

“Good,” she murmurs, her hand sliding up your side in a soothing gesture. “See? You can behave when you try.”

She waits until Rio asks the next question before finally resuming her movements. This time, her hips push up into you more deliberately, slow and measured, as if testing your resolve. Each thrust presses into the perfect spot, a deliberate rhythm that makes your breath catch and your knees tremble. It’s almost cruel how slowly she moves, dragging out every sensation until you’re teetering on the brink.

Rio’s eyes widen, her breath coming in shallow bursts. She clears her throat and stammers out the next question, her voice barely above a whisper. “¿Cómo se dice... they danced?”

You open your mouth to answer, but Agatha’s hands start guiding your hips again, setting a slow, torturous rhythm that has you clenching your teeth to stifle a moan. The friction is maddening, each grind of her hips sending shockwaves through your body that leave you gasping for air. You feel impossibly full, the steady motion of her beneath you making your head spin as heat coils tighter in your core.

“I—I don’t—” you start, but the words dissolve into a whimper as Agatha’s fingers slip under the hem of your cropped vest, brushing against your nipple.

“Don’t stop now,” Agatha murmurs, her voice like velvet. “You can do it, baby. Say it.”

Your answer is a garbled mess, barely comprehensible as you fight to stay coherent. The thrusts beneath you grow slightly firmer, and she pinches your nipple, drawing a broken cry from your lips. The steady pressure and her soft words blur together, leaving you utterly at her mercy.

Across from you, Rio is trembling, her fists clenched at her sides as she rocks forward slightly in her desperation. She bites her lip, her cheeks flushed as she tries to keep her composure, though her glazed-over expression betrays her struggle.

Agatha notices immediately. Her sharp eyes flick to Rio, and her lips curl into a dangerous smile. “¿Qué crees que estás haciendo, amor?” she says, her voice cutting through the tension in the room. “Stand up. Legs apart.”

Rio hesitates for a moment before obeying, her movements stiff and jerky. She stands with her legs spread slightly, her hands clenched into fists as she tries to keep still under Agatha’s watchful gaze. The air between the three of you feels electric, charged with an intensity that makes your skin prickle.

“Good,” Agatha says approvingly. Her focus returns to you, and her tone softens. “Now, let’s finish this lesson with one more question.”

Rio swallows hard, her voice shaking as she asks, “¿Cómo se dice... we ate?”

Your mind is a haze of pleasure and tension, the words slipping from your grasp as you struggle to focus. Each deliberate thrust from Agatha beneath you sends fresh waves of heat through your body, clouding your thoughts and making it nearly impossible to form words. Your hips instinctively try to grind against her, desperate for more, but her firm hands keep you in place, controlling every movement.

“Co-com—” you stutter, but you can’t get the syllables out.

Agatha stills your movements suddenly, her grip on your hips tightening as she tilts your head to meet her gaze. The abrupt stop leaves you trembling, every nerve screaming for relief as the tension in your body builds to unbearable levels

“No te distraigas,” she scolds gently, her expression calm but firm. “Answer Daddy. Now.”

The commanding tone snaps you back into focus, and with a shaky breath, you finally manage to stammer out, “C-comimos.”

Agatha’s lips curve into a satisfied smile. “Well done,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. Then her hands slide back down to your hips, and she resumes the slow, deliberate rhythm that has you gasping for air. This time, her thrusts are more purposeful, each one pushing you closer to the edge, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your core. Your vision blurs, your body trembling uncontrollably as you give in to the sensation.

“You’ve done good enough, sweetheart. No more questions. Now it’s time for you to enjoy yourself.”

Her attention shifts briefly to Rio, who looks like she’s about to unravel completely. “You,” Agatha says sharply, her tone brooking no argument, “will stay exactly where you are. Don’t move. Just watch.”

Rio’s breath hitches, her body trembling as she nods, her eyes fixed on the two of you. Her gaze feels like fire on your skin, but you’re too far gone to care, completely lost in the steady rhythm of Agatha’s movements and the way she keeps pushing you closer, her voice a soft murmur in your ear as you come undone.

Agatha’s hands tighten their hold on your hips, her fingers digging in just enough to anchor you to her. The slow, deliberate thrusts beneath you become a little harder, a little deeper, and the sensation sends shockwaves through your body. Each motion builds the pressure inside you, pushing you closer and closer to a breaking point that feels just out of reach.

“Such a good little slut,” Agatha murmurs in your ear, her voice a molten whisper that makes your toes curl. “You’ve been so good, finally learning some control.” Her lips brush against the curve of your neck, and her teeth graze your skin ever so lightly. “I want you to fall apart for me. Completely.”

Your body arches against her as she begins moving you faster, her hips meeting yours with a precision that’s almost too much to handle. The heat pooling low in your belly threatens to consume you, each thrust sending sparks shooting up your spine. You can’t hold back the moans spilling from your lips anymore, the sounds filling the room alongside Rio’s uneven breaths.

One of Agatha’s hands slips between your legs, her fingers circling your throbbing clit as her other holds you steady. “That’s it,” she coos, her tone laced with both encouragement and command. “Cum for me, darling. Let it take you over.”

Her voice, her touch, her presence—it’s all too much. The tension that has been winding tighter and tighter finally snaps, and the release crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your entire body trembles as the pleasure surges through you, every nerve alight as you cry out, the sound raw and unrestrained. The slick evidence of your release soaks into the fabric of Agatha’s pants, sdrenching her completely and leaving a visible mess against her thighs. She doesn’t seem to care—if anything, it only makes her smirk widen, a flicker of pride in her darkened gaze.

Agatha doesn’t let up, guiding you through every second of it, her hands and movements steady even as your body shakes with the force of your climax. She whispers soft praises in your ear, grounding you as the intensity leaves you breathless and utterly undone. “Look at the mess you’ve made,” she chuckles, her tone almost teasing as her fingers trail lazily over the damp fabric. “Such a good little thing for Mommy.” Her lips brush against your temple as she slows her movements, her hands now soothing rather than controlling. “So perfect. I knew you could do it.”

You slump against her, utterly spent, your chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. Her arms wrap around you securely, holding you close as you come down from the overwhelming high. For a moment, the room is quiet except for the sound of your breathing and Rio’s soft, stifled whimpers from where she stands frozen, obediently still but visibly affected.

Agatha strokes your hair, her voice a gentle murmur against your ear. “You did so well, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.” Her lips press against your forehead.

You let yourself melt into her, your body boneless and your mind hazy with satisfaction. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you register Rio’s quiet, needy sigh, but Agatha’s warmth and the steady rhythm of her breathing lull you into a calm, contented state.

She slips out of you and holds you tight, her hands brushing soothing circles over your back as she presses gentle kisses to your temple. When she finally moves again, it’s to slip one strong arm beneath your legs and the other around your back, effortlessly lifting you into her arms. You can’t help but sigh and rest your head against her shoulder, utterly spent but feeling safe in her hold.

As she carries you toward the bathroom, her voice cuts through the stillness, firm but not unkind. “Rio, my love, go order us something for dinner—whatever you want.” Her tone leaves no room for argument, and Rio, still flushed and squirming with pent-up frustration, lets out a soft, frustrated sigh before nodding obediently.

“Fine,” Rio mutters, her voice tinged with both respect and disappointment. You catch the faintest hint of a pout as she heads toward the kitchen, her steps slow and reluctant.

The bathroom is dimly lit, the soft glow of candles casting warm light over the tiles. Agatha sets you down carefully on the edge of the tub, steadying you as she kneels to turn on the taps, adjusting the water until it’s just right. As the tub fills, she helps you undress; her touches gentle but reverent, as though she’s still savouring every inch of you even in this quiet, intimate moment. When she lifts you into the water, you can’t help but let out a contented sigh as the heat soothes your tired muscles.

Agatha slides in behind you, her strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you back against her chest. The steady rhythm of her breathing and the warmth of the water lull you into a peaceful haze, her presence grounding you completely. She holds you close, her chin resting on your shoulder as her fingers trace lazy patterns along your arms.

“You were so good for me tonight,” she whispers softly, her voice low and soothing. “I’m proud of you, sweetheart.” Her lips brush against your temple, and you lean into her touch, the quiet intimacy of the moment filling your chest with warmth.

After the bath, Agatha wraps you in a plush towel, her hands steady as she dries you off, and helps you into a fresh set of clothes. By the time you return to the living room, Rio has returned with bags of takeout, her flushed cheeks, and the subtle shift of her legs betraying her discomfort. Agatha smirks knowingly but doesn’t say a word as she settles you onto the couch, pulling you snugly against her side.

The three of you share the meal together; the atmosphere warm and comfortable despite Rio’s occasional squirming. She shoots Agatha a few pleading looks, but Agatha only raises an eyebrow in silent challenge, her arm tightening around you possessively.

“Eat,” Agatha says calmly, gesturing to Rio’s plate. “You’ll get what you need—just not tonight.”

Rio huffs softly but obeys, though her fidgeting doesn’t let up. You curl further into Agatha’s side, feeling utterly content as the soft hum of conversation and the flicker of the TV fill the room. It’s a quiet, peaceful end to a long, intense evening, and as you drift closer to sleep, you can’t help but feel grateful for the comfort of the two people by your side.

READ THE NEXT PART

-----

y'all already know what I'm gonna say... please reblog and comment if you enjoyed. I love reading what you have to say about it, it really makes my day <3

asks are open if you want to chat/have an idea you'd like to see

-----

taglist: @aceday @valarmorghuli @ctrlamira @lezbean-with-a-side-of-dilfs @noturlondonboy @darkangelchronicles @beezlebee16 @kiaralee25 @4theluvofsapphos @lez-zuha @jujuu23 @gaylorvader

875 notes · View notes

lauraneedstochill · 5 months ago

Text

if I see one more post about Aegon “bullying Aemond his entire life”, I will go fucking ballistic, I swear to g—

scratch that, I will actually go ballistic right now. this is the “Aegon doesn’t deserve such a shitty treatment” club and I’m the self-proclaimed CEO. we are about to do some analyzing and reading so BUCKLE UP.

gonna make one thing clear first — Aemond was bullied when he was a child. no one denies that, no excuses can be made for that. I’d only like to note that there wasn’t only one bully. here’s a quick reminder:

now that we successfully counted to three, let’s look over Aegon’s other horrible crimes relationship with Aemond throughout the years.

📍 the night Aemond lost his eye (S1EP7), Rhaenyra suggests he should be “sharply questioned” (she means tortured) so they can learn who told him that her sons were bastards. Viserys, in his perpetual denial, angrily asks Aemond “who spoke these lies” to which he replies that it was Aegon. it is clear that Aemond does that to deflect suspicion from their mother but his words come as a surprise to Aegon.

he’s in a tough spot — Viserys demands the answers “as their king”, not their father (to signify his authority and pressure them into telling the truth). and Alicent screamed in Aegon’s face and slapped him just a minute ago, so he may be less eager to defend her. he can easily lie and say that he overheard some maids gossiping or that he can’t remember where the rumor came from. instead, it takes Aegon about 5 seconds to back Aemond up.

📍 we didn’t get many scenes with young Aegon and Aemond in general, but here’s a short bit people keep overlooking: when Harwin and Criston start fighting, Aemond and Aegon instantly gravitate toward each other. and moreover, Aegon puts a hand over Aemond’s back (which to me is either a protective or a comforting gesture). what a horrible brother, truly.

📍 next we see them all grown up before dinner in S1EP8. I think it’s safe to assume that if Aegon has been bullying Aemond all these years, Aemond wouldn’t want to spend a second in his company. he’s seated between Helaena and Otto, both of whom are dear to him, so Aemond can stay at the table and chat with them. and YET, not only does Aemond voluntarily talks to Aegon, but their conversation seems friendly (you can barely hear it in the show so here’s the enhanced audio). Aemond makes a joke about Aegon’s drinking habits — Aegon quips back — and then, what a shocker! Aemond starts venting his frustrations to Aegon (“Even when the noose is so tight, they expect us to break bread”). nothing would’ve stopped him from venting to Otto but Aemond stays with Aegon. he wouldn’t have done that if there hadn’t been some level of trust between them. he wouldn’t have done that if he hated Aegon’s guts.

📍 at dinner, when Aegon pisses Jace off and the brunet springs to his feet, Aemond stands up too, which forces Jace to act as if nothing happened and come up with a toast. Aegon watches him with a shit-eating grin on his face. it’s the face that screams “I know you won’t dare to act up in front of my brother and my brother has my back”.

when Aemond makes a toast and calls Rhaenyra’s sons “strong”, Aegon raises a cup to that. he can sit this one out — Aemond has his personal vendetta against the boys, and it would be safer for Aegon not to meddle. but what does he do instead? when Luke gets up from the table (clearly intending to go to Aemond), Aegon instantly stands up, comes up to Luke and not just stops him but slams his face into the table right in front of Rhaenyra without thinking twice. and it doesn’t look like Aegon is just messing with him — no, it looks like he wanted to do that for a while. like Aegon finally got his chance to stand up for his brother too. AND he also stops Baela from joining the fight.

📍 S1EP9 is when we get a glimpse of Aemond’s ambitions: he deems himself better than Aegon, he thinks he deserves to be king. but once he finds Aegon and they get into a fight, it turns out that Aegon knows that Aemond is a better choice. he doesn’t want to fight him, he begs Aemond to let him go. and Aemond can do that — Criston has his back to them, so Aemond could’ve pretended that Aegon managed to break free. and even once they caught Aegon, I have no doubt that Aemond could’ve helped him escape. but it seems that, despite his displeasure, Aemond values his family the most. he can’t betray his mother’s trust, and he knows Aegon is the first in line to the throne. Aemond envies him, yes, he may even hate him because of that. but he values his family the most.

📍 as @florisbaratheons noted, during the coronation scene, when Aegon glances at his family, Aemond looks right at him and gives that tiny nod that says “I may hate this and think I am better for the job as king. But I’ve got your back.” I like that Aemond is the one who keeps eye contact in that scene. He could’ve turned away to signal his dissatisfaction with the situation, there wouldn’t have been any consequences for that. But he didn’t.

📍 what I find interesting about S1EP10 is the beginning of Aemond’s dialogue with Luke. that’s the boy Aemond wished to get back at for years and yet, he starts by saying “Did you think that you could just fly about the realm trying to steal my brother’s throne at no cost?”. Aemond could’ve skipped that part — imagine him saying smth along the lines of “Wait, Lord Strong! Don’t you think you and I have other matters to discuss?” (to which Luke answers that he doesn’t want to fight and the conversation goes on). instead, Aemond makes a point to remind Luke: my brother is the king, and I came here on his behalf. you can argue that Aemond doesn’t do it for Aegon specifically but for his family in general. but Aegon is a part of the family, and S1 Aemond has his priorities straight.

📍 as much as I hate comparing the show and the book (these are two different things and should be viewed as such), I’d like to remind you that Aegon was the only one who stood by Aemond’s side after Luke’s death. I wonder why we didn’t get that scene… I guess it’s because it would be kinda hard to call Aegon “the main bully” after he literally throws Aemond a feast. but we do get to see Aegon supporting his brother: in S2EP1 he welcomes Aemond at the small council meeting despite his mother’s protests (“Aemond is my closest blood and my best sword”). and he trusts Aemond wholeheartedly, that much is obvious.

📍 let’s get to the most controversial part — the brothel scene in S2EP3: some people believe Aegon is being a bully at that moment. those people seem to forget one little detail:

it’s been only a few days after the death of Aegon’s son whose murder was a direct result of Aemond’s ruthless actions. does Aemond ever address it? does he express his condolences? does he mayhaps help to catch the killers, being the skilled fighter that he is? the answer is NO.

I do think Aegon’s joke was cruel (I wrote a whole post about it) but that’s all it ever was — a JOKE. the humiliation comes not from the things he says but from the fact that Aemond is found in a vulnerable position and surrounded by a group of strangers while his brother laughs at him. TGC explained it best:

I also love @notbloodraven’s take on that scene:

Aegon lashing out so cruelly at Aemond seems to be an effort in making Aemond feel as badly as he does and blaming him for Jaehaerys without actually saying the words.

would this be the right way to act? no. but there’s no right way to grieve and to cope with the loss — and HIS SON WAS BEHEADED so maybe take 1% of the sympathy you show your favorite character(s) and cut Aegon some slack.

+ other things worth talking about:

📍 @bietrofastimoff23 analyzed S2EP3 beautifully and I can’t help but mention the scene that happens before Aegon goes to the brothel. it’s the moment when Larys suggests that Alicent and Aemond are plotting against Aegon. he isn’t surprised by the idea that his mother can do that — but the second his brother is mentioned, Aegon’s face falls and he shakes his head no. because there is no way Aemond would ever do that to him. and instead of asking for any proof, he asks Larys “who spreads these lies?” and then commands him to “tend to them.” Aegon can ask him to spy on Aemond, to find any dirt on him, find any weaknesses he can use — he does not.

📍 it turns out to be true — Aemond was plotting behind his brother’s back. which is treason btw (I don’t think Criston intended to keep things from Aegon — he probably believed that Aemond would let Aegon in on their plan). and Aegon does have the power to remind Aemond of his place — he can throw him off the council with a snap of his fingers, he can take offense at Aemond’s attempt to publicly humiliate him (their conversation in High Valyrian — Ewan himself calls it a “public execution”). but that’s not what happens: as TGC phrased it, Aemond’s betrayal “breaks a bit of Aegon’s heart off”. an actual bully would’ve immediately pushed back, but Aegon silently sits down and doesn’t argue, he’s so defeated he can’t utter a word. he has the means to be a bully but he doesn’t contemplate it for a second.

📍 I don’t want to talk about S2EP6 because it makes me sick but I will reiterate one thing: never ONCE Aegon made fun of Aemond’s disability or tried to cause him any physical harm. just want to point that out.

there is no moral to this story, I guess. if you managed to read till the very end, thank you. if you still hate Aegon, that’s your opinion and you are allowed to have one — but please, for the love of god, just stop making shit up. no, Aemond was NOT bullied as an adult, absolutely nothing suggests that he was. Aegon was naive to blindly trust him and it backfired on him, that’s the actual story. and if you are so eager to hold Aegon accountable for his mistakes, maybe it’s time for Aemond to take responsibility for his actions too.

+ some of my favorite critical posts about Aegon and Aemond: x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x.

P.S. I will not argue with anyone so please don’t waste your time — I consider all my arguments solid and that’s enough for me. if you are thinking of sending me anon hate, pls go take a walk instead, it will do you more good. 🌿

#aegon ii targaryen #sorry if I sound passive-aggressive guys (I totally am)#I am just so fed up with barbecue jokes and people mocking Aegon’s suffering for no fcking reason #I log on to this hellsite and 90% of the fandom is suddenly like that #so I had to make this post simply for myself (and maybe for 3 other people lol)#to think that people made excuses for Luke who MAIMED Aemond for life and then dared to laugh in his face #but when it comes to Aegon everyone is nitpicking his every move without ever trying to take his feelings into consideration #aegond #aemond targaryen #hotd critical #hotd S2 #hotd spoilers #house of the dragon #aegon the second #laura rambles #the greens

2K notes · View notes

extinctlesspains · 1 month ago

Note

pls write for axel kovacevic, my bby is deprived of love 😔🤲

𝐺𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐶𝑟𝑎𝑧𝑦: 𝐴𝑥𝑒𝑙 𝐾𝑜𝑣𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑐

𝐵𝑦 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠

»»——⍟——««

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐴𝑥𝑒𝑙 𝐾𝑜𝑣𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑐 𝑥 𝑓𝑒𝑚! 𝑀𝑖𝑦𝑎𝑔𝑖-𝐷𝑜 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓

��𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝐴𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝐴𝑥𝑒𝑙 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑚 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑜𝑓𝑓 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑. 𝐻𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑎 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑖𝑠.

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑝𝑒𝑡 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑠, 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△

You walked around the training rooms with Sam, talking about the teams you would face later in the tournament. Sam put her hand in front of you, making you abruptly stop. You furrowed your brows in confusion. Noticing your muddled expression, Sam gestured toward the open door. Inside stood a tall student with his sensei.

You had seen him before and if you recalled correctly his name was Axel and he was the male captain of the Iron Dragons. You widen your eyes as Sensei wolf started beating at Axel for messing up his karate move. You couldn't help but watch in shock. Sam grabbed your hand and started walking away fast. As you turned to look back at Axel, your eyes met.

They were filled with pain and weakness. You looked back at him with an empathetic look before getting dragged away by Sam.

.・。.・゜✭・.・。.・゜✭・.・゜゜・

Karate wasn't on his mind. Axel didn't have anything on his mind, except you. Who were you? His heart couldn't help but flutter at the thought of you. Your eyes, hair, the way you looked in your Gi.

You were so beautiful... He was going crazy. Catching himself daydream, he sighed and frowned. This feeling was love... And he wasn't complaining. He snapped out of his delusions, going back to practice his Karate on the beach.

That's when it happened...

You ran out on the sand, breathing heavily and putting your hands on your knees. He stopped what he was doing and turned to look at you. His face filled with worry, rushing to your side.

"Are.. Are you okay?" He kneeled down. "There was a crab in the sand and it started walking towards me like this!-" you replied, doing a crab walk.

"And I ran away!! It was scary! That motherfucker was going to kill me!!" You frowned. He laughed and flashed a smile. "Love, I don't think crabs can kill people like that."

You looked up and pointed a finger at him. ''Crabs can do a lot of things." You squinted your eyes. "Nice karate by the way... I'm Y/n." You smiled and put out your hand. He widened his eyes and looked down at your hand.

"I uhm- not supposed to talk to enemies." He quickly muttered. You tilted your head. "But you were talking to me just now?" You frowned. His eyes softened at your frown. He cleared his throat. "Axel..." You smiled and nodded.

"Nice to meet you, Axel." His face flustered up. "Can... Can I walk you back to your room?" He said nervously. You chuckled and nodded. "I would like that very much..." You smiled and took your hand into his.

It was a small start to a living relationship and it was all because you glanced at him during his most vulnerable point.

#cobra kai #cobra kai x reader #karate kid #karatekidxreader #miguel diaz #robby keene #daniel larusso #kwon cobra kai #johnny lawrence #kwon jae sung #Axel Kavacevic #Axel Cobra Kai #axel kovacevic #Axel Kovacevic x reader

799 notes · View notes

that-fic-girl · 11 months ago

Text

HAZBIN HOTEL X READER HC #1

Head canon: what it would be like to date them.

characters: Alastor, angel dust, husk, vox

disclaimer: everything i write about these characters might not be accurate to the actual story, please take everything in the fic with a grain of salt, none of this is canon!!

Alastor

he hasnt been in an actual relationship in a while so being close and vulnerable with someone is quite hard for him, especially as someone who associates emotions with weakness.

First off, its safe to say he adores the ground you walk on. He's in love with everything about you, your clothes, the smell of your hair, your sickly sweet voice. his loves it all.

If there was ever a problem you needed fixing, a person you needed taken care of or even a errand you needed to run he would tend to it himself. he would not let you lift a finger.

PDA is a iffy thing for him, he wouldnt do grand big gestures but maybe a hand on the hip or a few words of affirmation.

everyone in the pride ring quickly learned of yours and radio demon's relationship. And no one dared to mess with you, ofcourse there was people who wanted to test their luck but they would have to pay the price later.

his love language is definitely words of affirmation, he will sweet talk the shit out of you. At night when it's just you two in bed, he will have his hands stroking through your hair whilst you rant to him about your day and he'll reply with sweet nothings

"oh darling, i've missed you all evening"

"you looked ravishing today my dear.."

"mm your hair smells amazing, my love"

Angel Dust

Angel is one of, if not, the horniest mother fuckers out there but somehow, he manages to somewhat make a healthy relationship with someone.

you two are seen as "the bad bitch" couple. you're always out together, always getting into dumb shit together. You'll get yelled at by vaggie at early hours in the morning because the two of you where playing a childish game of tag in the hotel halls.

his love language is definitely physical touch, he'll have his arms slung around your waist almost all the time. Kisses are a MUST every 5 minutes, like this boy will NOT part from you. especially in the mornings when you have to leave for work;

"mmnnnnoooooooo...stayyy for five minutes pleasseeeee"

"but sweets..you're soooo warm"

"sweetheart please, you feel so comfy"

yeah good luck with that.

nights with him are VERY eventful, if it wasn't obvious. You two would usually be at it late hours into the night but sometimes, when you two where too exhausted to fuck like rabbits, he would be sprawled across your lap whilst you stroked his fur.

Husk

Despite his harsh tone and uncompromising demeanor, you understood that Husk wasn't trying to be malicious towards you. It was simply his way of communicating, and you knew that his behavior wasn't personal. Even though he could be abrasive at times, you loved him for his rough edges and authentic personality

You and Husk's time together was mostly spent at the bar. You didn't like to drink much, but you loved seeing him work and make cocktails like a pro. You didn't mind that it wasn't considered a typical date, because you liked spending time with him in whatever way he felt most comfortable.

Husk is not used to receiving compliments, as he didn't often receive them in his past life. When you complimented him, it caught him off guard and he was surprised. But he eventually learned to appreciate it, and it even made him feel a little sentimental.

Despite the difficulty, you were able to help Husk realize that you genuinely cared about him. He had been used to being surrounded by dishonesty and hypocrisy, but you were always sincere and real. He held you in high regard, as you were the only source of light in his life, and he didn't want to lose you.

vox

You were known as a strong and independent person who didn't need assistance from others. You knew how to stand up for yourself, despite being harsh and tough at times. Despite your exterior, no one was aware of the soft spot in your heart that Vox's affection and touch alone could melt away your severity.

He appreciated seeing your affectionate side, as it felt special and intimate, like a shared secret between the two of you. He knew you valued your privacy, and he respected it by never sharing photos or other details on social media. He didn't want to betray your trust.

You were often feared and respected when you were with Vox. People found it hard to believe that someone as intimidating as yourself could have a tender, caring side that was kept hidden from most. Vox was glad that he was the only one who got to see that side of you. He didn't want to share something so special and personal with anyone else.

Quite often, he would call you on the phone, knowing that sweet words could be just as effective as a kiss. He enjoyed hearing how your voice softened from its usual seriousness to a more affectionate tone. He was aware that when he said loving phrases to you, you would blush and smile shyly, and sometimes he even regretted not being able to witness it in person.

"i've missed you today babe.."

"mhm look at my pretty girl/boy!"

#Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin Hotel x Reader #Hazbin Hotel headcanons #Alastor #Alastor x Reader #Vox #Vox x Reader #Hazbin Hotel oneshots #Husk #Husk x Reader #angel dust #angel dust x reader #vivziepop\

5K notes · View notes

suiana · 5 months ago

Text

(yandere! doctor x gn! patient) (cw: nsfw, yandere stuff, drugging, bribery, dubcon?)

your doctor is a little weird, you think.

he's a nice guy, yeah. does his work well, always smiling and constantly reassuring you that nothing's wrong with you. sending you off with a nice pat on the back as he emails you your prescription yet again.

but he's nowhere near professional.

his hands linger on your body far longer than what would be considered appropriate. eyes dark and unreadable as you tell him about your lovely significant other that's waiting for you outside of his office. how he'd try and talk bout his own life in an attempt to get you to stay in his office more...

if anything, he acts more like a possessive boyfriend than your doctor.

though you suppose he's just a little eccentric like that. he's a reputable doctor. everyone loves him, and so do you! he's treated you numerous times and his checkups are always so thorough. surely you can just let his... odd behaviour slide.

today you're coming in for a body checkup. lately you've been feeling dizzy and warm despite it being the middle of winter. you wonder if it's because you've gotten ill or someone's poisioning you. after all, there's been some weird holes in your arm whenever you wake up lately.

your excellent doctor has scheduled you in at 4.30 in the afternoon. he was busy earlier today, he says. you understand, he's a busy doctor. your spouse hasn't ended their shift yet so you came in alone. they haven't been answering your texts since they left home earlier today. you can only hope that they've been busy, you'll ask them when they come home.

entering his office, you are met with his polite smile and his melodious voice.

"please sit."

you obey, sitting down in the seat in front of him as you fiddle with your fingers. your doctor looks rather... distracted today. his usually tidy hair is a mess, his glasses wet as though they had just been cleaned.

"it seems that you are feeling warm and under the weather. do you have any other symptoms, my dear?"

"yes... i've been feeling rather..."

you pause, not knowing how to say it.

"aroused?"

you nod. your doctor seems to know you so well.

he hums, going back to his screen before putting on a pair of medical gloves and gesturing for you to lay down on the bed nearby. you oblige. hopefully he'll figure out what's going on with your body.

he starts off normally, prodding and pressing against certain areas of your body. you answer accordingly when he asks you whether they hurt, whether you feel weird or not. it's like any other medical examination.

"so how's your lover been?"

small talk. you realize he's always been a big fan of small talk. asking about your life, humming and smiling as he replies with answers about his own life too. sometimes he says something personal about your life, like how you go shopping on saturdays with your lover or how you sleep with the lights off. you wonder how he knows, is he stalking you? but you shake your head at the thought. you must've told him and forgot.

"they've been... fine. haven't texted me back yet unfortunately."

"mn, i see."

silence washes over the two of you as he continues prodding and touching you. his touches linger, soft and almost as though he was yearning to touch you even more. his tone of voice was nonchalant, like he didn't care.

you feel slightly uncomfortable.

"um..."

"hm?"

"i-i... i guess i'm worried about them. ever since they went out to work in the morning they haven't replied..."

"i am aware."

you remain quiet after that, pursing your lips as you ignore the way his touches have you growing progressively more turned on. you figure it must be a side effect of your condition.

"my dear, can you tell me what you feel what i touch you here?"

"huh? w- h-hey..."

you let out a soft moan as his gloved hands caress your clothed thighs. calm down, he says. it's just a part of the examination. you shudder slightly, squeezing your eyes shut. you feel the warmth in you grow as he continues to gently caress your thighs.

he's right, it's just a medical examination. he wouldn't touch you like that. plus, you have a significant other already. you shouldn't be feeling like this because of his touches. it's wrong.

you exhale shakily, fluttering your eyes open as you stare at him.

"i-it feels nice..? it makes the warmth worse, doc."

"i see... what about over here?"

you let out a gasp, eyes widening so wide you were sure they'd pop out of your skull. where... were his hands touching? surely you're dreaming?

but you weren't. when you looked down, you could clearly see his hands on your nether regions, gently groping and caressing the area.

"w-what are you-"

"i am merely testing to see which parts of your body react to my touch. please do not worry, my dear. this is all medical procedure."

"but it's my-"

"shh... i know. does it feel good? what do you feel?"

you shiver under his touch, whimpering softly as you try sitting up. were you overthinking it? he's just your doctor. this is part of the examination, it's fine.

yet you feel as though his touches have a deeper and more sinister meaning behind them.

"please don't-"

"why not? i've seen your significant other touch you like this multiple times. you've always reacted wonderfully under their touch."

"h-huh?"

your doctor pauses, eyes widening slightly before he lets out a chuckle. his hands continue palming and caressing your privates, almost as though he was... toying with you. with every touch you feel yourself getting more and more worked up, cheeks flushing even more.

"oh dear, i haven't told you have i? i've been keeping a close eye on you... i thought you'd have figured it out by now. your lover certainly has."

you squeeze your eyes shut as his touch, your mind growing fuzzy. what.. did he say? you can't quite understand... all you can feel is how bothered you're getting and how you want him to touch you even more.

"i am pleasantly surprised with how well you are reacting to my touch. i never expected you to react so positively to the drug."

"d-drug? ah... no... don't grope me like that..."

he continues palming at your clothed privates, a calm smile on his face. you can faintly make out the way his cheeks were turning red and the hardening of his pants.

"right, i did tell them not to tell you... my dear, your significant other has left you."

"no... what are you... talking about doc? hah... how would you know anyway..?"

"oh, because i told them to. i gave them some money a few months back and they've been working for me up until... today."

if you were a little more sober, you would've pushed him away and ran for your phone. unfortunately, the aphrodisiac you had been injected with last night has reduced you into a needy thing desperate for his touch.

"what did you do-"

"well my dear, didn't you notice the injection marks in your arm? your significant other had been administering you with tiny dosages of this particular drug i've given them. it's supposed to make you feel good."

"g-good..?"

you hear your doctor chuckle, his hands moving away from your sensitive parts. only to quickly undo the buckle of your pants and slip his hand down on your newly exposed skin.

your breath hitches, hips instictively bucking against his hand as you let out a low whine. you can't think anymore. your brain is so muddled with feeling good that you aren't even worried or disgusted by what he's saying. all you want is him, him, him. he makes you feel good.

"yes my love, good. aren't you feeling good right now?"

"mn mhm!"

you nod your head eagerly as his hands gently toy with your sex, rubbing and fondling you gently. he continues smiling down at you, pleasuring you with his fingers before pulling away. you whimper, face hot and red as you desperately try and pull him back. why would he do that? he was just making you feel so good...

"haha, you want me to continue touching you?"

you nod again. your doctor grins widely at your words, taking off his gloves before you hear the clink of his belt hit the floor.

"well, i suppose i'll get on with my second part of the medical examination now then."

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere concepts #yandere doctor #yandere doctor x reader #gn reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

1K notes · View notes

roosterforme · 2 months ago

Text

California Autumn | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was drawn to you the minute you moved onto his street. You seemed to bump into one another everywhere, and each time he saw your smile or heard your laugh, he knew he had to ask you out. He wasn't expecting the answer you gave him, just as you weren't expecting to wish he could be the man for you.

Warnings: angst, fluff, adult language, mentions of accident/death, guardianship of child

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more

Early September was brutal in southern California. Each day seemed hotter than the one before it, and even the smallest bit of yard work was enough to leave Bradley sweaty and miserable. He stood in the middle of his front yard, eyes closed, thinking about how beautiful autumn was in Virginia when he was a kid. He leaned against the handle of the rake, picturing a pumpkin patch, a corn maze and all the things he would never find in San Diego.

The sound of something bigger than a car coming down his quiet side street had him cracking his eyes open against the Saturday afternoon sun. A U-Haul lumbered to a stop in front of the house across the street and one door down. The engine settled to silence, and he craned his neck to get a better look. The property had been sitting there with a red and white SOLD sticker over the realty sign for what seemed like months, and now it would appear as though he finally had a new neighbor.

Bradley dropped the rake and had to lunge to grab the handle before it clattered against his stone pathway. The woman who climbed out of the truck, hopping down onto the street in some beat up sneakers, was beautiful. The sun seemed to illuminate her from the inside, and now Bradley was setting the rake down softly as she walked around the truck and slid the back open. It was filled with furniture and boxes, and he watched as an avalanche nearly flowed out as she tried to move one item.

"Shit," he grunted, running across the street as he wiped his dirty hands on the hem of his undershirt. "It looks like you could use a hand," he called out, hoping he wouldn't scare you when he came up behind you just in time to catch a dining chair that was teetering above your head. Then the neatly stacked boxes started to give out as well, and his left hand went to steady them.

You were ducking slightly, preparing for the worst when Bradley realized your back was pressed against his chest. If he moved, there would be a lot of broken furniture to contend with. But then you glanced at him over your shoulder as you stood to your full height, eyes wide and lips parted in surprise.

If you looked beautiful from across the street, then you looked stunning up close, trapped between his body and the truck. "Welcome to the neighborhood," he mumbled like an idiot, but he was rewarded by the smile that curled along your lips.

"Hey, you're pretty good at being neighborly," you replied, gesturing to his right hand holding the chair and his left securing the stack of boxes. His heartbeat quickened at the sound of your voice and how close you were as you told him your name and asked which house was his.

"I'm Bradley. The white cottage across the street." He nodded toward his mess of a front yard with his chin. "I moved in about six months ago."

What he didn't mention was the fact that he often still felt like a bit of an outsider in town, even though he attended all the neighborhood potlucks and still had some blond in his hair from hanging out on the local beaches all summer. At the moment, all he could do was fight the urge to tell you how pretty your eyes were.

"And you like the neighborhood?" you asked, fully facing him now with a smirk on your face.

He shrugged the best he could without moving too much. "I might like it better now."

Your eyes widened a bit before you ducked your head, looking up at him with a surprised smile like you couldn't quite believe what he'd just said. And that's when Bradley heard another vehicle pull up behind him. "That would be my friends. Here to help me unpack."

He wanted to joke that it looked like you needed all the help you could get with your furniture avalanche, but he heard several voices calling your name and rushing over to help. He was invited to stay, but when he was finally able to safely back away without anything falling, he realized four other people were there to help you out.

Your eyes were still focused on his as he started to back away. "I'll see you around?" you asked before chewing on your lip.

"I would count on it," he confirmed, turning back toward his house so you could get settled into yours.

But he did hear one of your friends ask, "Who is he?"

"Bradley," you replied, just barely loud enough for him to hear. "From the white cottage."

--------------------------------

After that first encounter, he saw you everywhere. You were pulling into the parking spot next to his Bronco when he came out of the grocery store. When he asked how you liked your new house, it sparked a conversation about hardwood versus porcelain tile flooring, and Bradley's ice cream was completely melted by the time he got home.

Then there was the day you bumped into him coming out of the salon next to his barber, and he complimented your colorful nails at the same time you told him his haircut looked nice. He blushed, and you smiled before turning toward your car, glancing back at him a little expectantly.

Then he ran into you at the farmer's market where you were buying vegetables for the upcoming neighborhood potluck. You asked him what he thought you should make.

"Well, I'm the wrong person to ask," he replied, feeling a little lightheaded as his brain begged him to ask you out on a date.

"Why's that?" you asked, placing your hand on your hip while you held up a head of cabbage. "You're a picky eater?"

He shook his head and took a step closer to you. "The exact opposite. I love food. I will eat literally anything that is edible."

Your bright laughter cascaded across his skin as your head tipped back. The expanse of your neck looked smooth and perfect, and Bradley wanted to have your permission to put his lips there. And that was a startling thought since nobody had really caught his attention like this since he was first stationed in San Diego. Nobody made him feel like he was at home in his house before you started waving to him whenever you saw him outside.

"I guess it makes sense that you love food," you told him with a smile. "You're a big boy." Your gaze drifted down along his shoulders and chest before you started to look a little embarrassed. "I... yeah... I think I'll just grab whatever looks good and take it from there. See you on Friday night?"

"Yeah," he grunted as you walked toward an eggplant display. He would see you on Friday night. And he would be prepared ahead of time to ask you out.

----------------------------

"No," you gasped. Bradley recognized your voice and turned around to face you in Mrs. Diaz's kitchen. "That's what you brought to the potluck?" You sounded appalled, but you were clearly smiling as you looked at what he was holding.

"I told you I liked to eat food, not that I knew how to cook anything."

"Bradley," you groaned, shaking your head at the bag of chips and jar of salsa in his hands. "This is bad. Next time, I'll prepare two dishes so you can pretend you made one."

His heart skipped a beat at the idea of handing you things in his kitchen and watching you make something as nice as the lasagna you were holding. "It's useless," he replied with a frown. "After six months of bringing restaurant style tortilla chips and medium salsa, nobody would believe I cooked anything."

Once again, your laughter had him ready to drop what he was holding and reach for you. He had to ask you out tonight. It had been weeks already since you moved in, and you were definitely giving him a green light. He could think of a dozen different restaurants he wanted to take you to, and maybe you'd like the artsy little movie theater.

But he watched you get swept up in conversation after conversation, and then the opportunity slipped away when you ducked away from everyone to answer a call. You had a concerned look on your face with your phone pressed to your cheek, and then you were rushing out of Mrs. Diaz's house and along her front path before you disappeared from view.

Suddenly it was well into October, and he'd barely seen you at all. There were a few mornings that felt cool enough to coax him to buy some pumpkins for his front porch. He thought about taking one over to your house as an excuse to finally ask you out, but he figured you must be pretty busy right now. Maybe work got a little crazy. He tried not to imagine that someone else had asked you out and that was the reason why you were so scarce.

"Damn," he grunted when he drove his Bronco past your house on his way to get some takeout for dinner on a Saturday night. He just couldn't stop thinking about you. Why didn't he ask you out that first day when he saved you from your dining chair? He ran his hand over his face and groaned, parking in front of the restaurant and yanking his keys from the ignition. If he'd just asked you out that day, maybe he'd be picking up twice as much food and sharing it with you tonight.

A minute later, when he turned to leave the restaurant with his bag, he could not believe his luck. You were walking inside. "Hey."

You glanced up, and for the briefest second, you smiled at him like you always used to. "Bradley." But then your smile started to fade away slowly, and he would do anything to bring it back.

His heart was pounding, and his brain was screaming at him, so he squared his shoulders and did the only thing he could do. "Hey, if you're free tomorrow night, I was thinking maybe you and I could get dinner? Or hit up the movie theater on Pomona? The seats are uncomfortable, but they show some indie stuff which could be fun. Or maybe another night might work?"

The air was silent except for the muffled sound of food being prepared in the kitchen behind him. Your eyes looked so sad as you shook your head and pressed your lips together. "No. No, I'm sorry, Bradley."

Well, fuck.

He backed away from you until he bumped into the wall, and then he focused on getting to the door. "Right," he replied after he had a few more feet between your body and his. "Well, I'll see you around the neighborhood."

For the first time since he moved to California, the air outside was too cold. There was an uncomfortable knot in his stomach as he glanced over at your car. He shivered miserably as he saw the shadow of someone waiting in your passenger seat. Then he drove home and ate alone in his kitchen before going to bed.

---------------------------------

Bradley tried his best not to think about you. One day last week, when he saw your front door swing open, he waited to step down from his porch so you wouldn't have to wave awkwardly to him. And yesterday, for lack of anything better to do, he bought more pumpkins, and he waited in his driveway to unload them until you carried all of your groceries inside your house.

Today was Halloween, and he spent over an hour carving some of the pumpkins to look like soccer balls before dressing in his usual costume. Handing candy out to the neighborhood kids and trying to guess what they were dressed as sounded like fun. He was determined to have a good night, even if he did have to angle the folding chair on his porch so he was facing slightly away from your house. He would enjoy himself no matter what.

Bradley lit the candles inside his pumpkins and dropped down into the chair with a bowl of candy as the afternoon sky turned dusky. It didn't take long until a toddler dressed as a witch made an appearance with her dad, and Bradley had a good laugh when she reached for three pieces of candy.

"Trick or treat!" shouted three kids dressed as the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

"Where's Raphael?" he asked as they collected their candy.

Leonardo laughed and said, "Nobody wants to be Raphael. He's the lamest one."

"I would have to agree," Bradley replied, about to help himself to a piece of candy as they started to run to the next house.

But then he saw you. And you weren't alone. You were dressed as a soccer player, complete with knee socks and a soccer ball, and you were accompanied by an approximately ten year old kid who looked a lot like you. He was also dressed as a soccer player, and he smiled at Bradley as he said, "Trick or treat."

Bradley stood up, still holding onto the bowl of candy so the child could make his selection while he got a better look at you. "Hey."

"Hi," you replied immediately, looking from his mustache to the whistle around his neck and back up to his visor. "Are you seriously dressed as Ted Lasso?"

"I always dress as Ted Lasso," he told you, and he was rewarded with a smile that made him want to follow you around the neighborhood like a lost puppy.

"Of course you do," you said, letting your gaze drift toward the child who was currently looking closely at the soccer ball pumpkins while holding onto a Snickers bar. "Somehow you match with us."

The boy looked up at Bradley and asked, "Did you carve these yourself? They look pretty good."

"Yeah," he replied, wishing he actually had taken the time to drop a pumpkin or two off on your porch. "I have perfected the soccer ball technique, kiddo."

The kid nodded but said, "You need to call it a football."

Bradley found himself agreeing. "You're completely right. It's only proper."

When the kid turned back to explore the rest of the pumpkin display a little more, Bradley took a step closer to you. "I didn't know you had a son," he said softly.

Your eyes were alert, scrutinizing his expression as you said, "His name is Max. He's almost ten."

"He looks like you."

You went silent for a few seconds, fiddling with the soccer ball in your hands. When you finally spoke, you were looking at Bradley's feet. "I knew you didn't know about him. I mean, you did ask me out after all." You laughed even though nothing was funny and finally looked up at his face. Then Max started to walk back the way you and he came, and you followed him.

Bradley called your name. When you turned back, he said, "To be clear, I would have still asked you out if I'd known."

And then you looked so sad again.

------------------------------

To Bradley's amazement, the weather finally cooled to the perfect temperature in November, but he found he didn't want to be outside as much. It was a shame, because if he stood in the middle of his yard and closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he was in Virginia.

One Friday after work, he cleaned the slightly rotten pumpkins from his porch and dragged his trash bin to the curb. Your front door was open, and he paused to see if you or Max happened to walk past it before heading back inside his empty house.

There was another potluck tonight, but he just didn't even feel like going. He had the usual chips and salsa on his kitchen counter, but he had no desire to socialize with the neighbors. He was about to change into gym shorts and surrender to a cold beer and a basketball game on TV when there was a knock on his door.

When he glanced through the front window, he saw that it was you, and his heart seemed to drag him toward the door. He was turning the knob before he thought better of it, and he was met with your wide eyes and a crock pot in your hands.

"Hi. Bradley."

"Hey." He swallowed hard before he said your name, and your lips turned up into a soft smile. "Is that for the potluck?"

"Yeah," you said, reaching out to hand the crock pot to him. "Well, I actually made it for you to take. Max and I will be bringing lasagna again."

Whatever Bradley was holding smelled so good, his stomach started to growl. "I can't take this. Nobody will believe I made it," he murmured, nudging at the lid with his thumb.

"It's a spicy buffalo dip," you replied, smile growing. "I literally made it with chicken from a can. I'm pretty sure you could trick them into thinking it came from your kitchen. You can even take your tortilla chips, too."

His fingers tightened on the handles when you took a small step closer to him. This was agony, being so close to you when he really wanted to touch you, but knew he couldn't. He whispered your name at the same time you looked up at him and started talking.

"Max isn't my son. He's my nephew. But I'm his legal guardian now." Bradley's lips parted, but you shook your head and quickly added. "The night of the last potluck, I got a phone call that my brother and his wife were in a car accident. They both died before they reached the hospital. I had to pick Max up from soccer practice that night, and he's been with me ever since."

Tears were welling up in your eyes as Bradley tried to shuffle your crock pot to one hand. He knew how badly this kind of thing hurt from his own childhood. "Shit. I'm really sorry the two of you are going through this. But Max is lucky he has you." When you nodded and shrugged, you looked resigned to the way things were. "I'm also pretty sure Max prefers it when you call it football. Not soccer."

You laughed, maybe in spite of yourself, but Bradley still loved how it sounded. You briefly glanced over your shoulder toward your house and swiped at your tears as you said, "He absolutely does. He also keeps asking me about Ted Lasso across the street and his football pumpkins. I told him you're nice."

Bradley's heart had him dragging his feet closer to you, holding onto the warm pot of buffalo chicken dip for dear life. "Is that so?"

You nodded and stared at Bradley's chest for a few seconds before meeting his eyes again. Your lips parted several times before you whispered his name, and he leaned in a bit closer. After a few seconds, he started to step back, but your hand settled lightly on his shoulder, stopping him. Before he could react, you closed the remaining space, pressing your lips to his in a tentative kiss.

It was over almost as quickly as it started, and Bradley was ready to drop to his knees and beg you for more. But you were rambling now, and he was trying his best to focus. "I wanted you to ask me out so badly. But then everything changed, and I had to tell you no. Max has a lot he still needs to process, and I don't really have time to date someone who just wants to mess around with me."

For the first time in many weeks, Bradley felt lighter than air. He reached out with his free hand and let his knuckles trail gently along your cheek and down to your softly parted lips. "I'm forty years old. I'm kind of over the messing around stage," he promised. And then you were kissing him again.

The three of you walked to Mrs. Diaz's house together that evening. Bradley carried the crock pot, you carried the lasagna, and Max carried the tortilla chips. The conversation was mainly focused on how badly Max wanted to learn how to carve a football pumpkin.

Almost a year later, Bradley was standing in his front yard, smiling at the SOLD sticker placed on a realty sign in front of your house. It made sense to have you and Max move into the white cottage with him, because the porch was bigger. It was the perfect size for an elaborate Halloween display.

----------------------------------

Thanks for reading this angsty yet fuzzy little fic. I hope your Halloween is sweeter than Bradley Bradshaw. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls and @thedroneranger

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@solacestyles

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@horseslovers2016

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

@daggerspare-standingby

@nessjo

@trickphotography2

@lyn-js

@furiousladyking

@godsfavoritebabe

@bethabear12

@halo-mystic

@sherlockstrangewolf

@theamuz

@khaylin27

@glenpowellluver

917 notes · View notes

jungwnies · 15 days ago

Text

F1 GRID | somewhere along the way, friendship fades

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis : childhood best friends drift apart, their connection fading with time. and years later, meeting again.

୨ৎ : genre : angst, sad themes ୨ৎ : tws : arguing ୨ৎ : word count : 3499

୨ masterlist ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : i was watching "our little secret" on netflix and i got inspired to do this :c def a 10/10 watch

ʚ・max verstappen

the smell of burnt rubber and stroopwafels defined your childhood. growing up as the daughter of one of the engineers, your playground was the karting track, and your partner in crime was max, who seemed to never catch a break. scraped knees, stolen frites, and endless races—it was always a competition. and even though he was faster, you never let him win easily.

“you’re getting slow,” you’d tease when he’d lap you, and he’d fire back, “or maybe you’re just not trying hard enough.”

but childhood doesn’t last forever. as max’s talent propelled him forward, your worlds began to split. he moved to monaco, chasing the formula 1 dream, while you stayed home, building a life far from the roar of engines.

the breaking point came during one of his rare calls. you told him about getting into university, excitement bubbling through the phone.

“that’s great,” he said, but his voice was distant. “i’ve got a strategy meeting. i’ll call you later, okay?”

“but max—”

the line went dead before you could finish.

you never called back. neither did he. the silence was deafening, only broken by headlines about his victories.

years passed. you built your career, surrounded yourself with people who cared about you. still, there was always that quiet ache, a max-shaped hole you couldn’t quite fill.

...

fate intervened in monaco, of all places. a work trip brought you to the grand prix weekend, and there he was—older, sharper, surrounded by reporters. the boy you knew had grown into a man, but the familiar intensity in his blue eyes was still there.

he spotted you, and for a moment, time rewound. “you’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, smirking as he pulled you into a hug.

“you’re really here,” max said, his voice even but his eyes giving him away.

“don’t sound too surprised,” you replied, crossing your arms. “monaco isn’t exactly hard to find, and my dad forced me to accompany him.”

he huffed a laugh, scratching the back of his neck—a gesture you remembered all too well. “it’s just... been a while.”

“whose fault is that?” you shot back, eyebrow raised.

his grin faltered, replaced by something softer, more sincere. “mine,” he admitted, no hesitation. max had never been one to dance around the truth. “i messed up. i thought... if i focused on racing, everything else would just stay in place. but it didn’t. i didn’t.”

you blinked, caught off guard by the honesty. “and now?”

“now?” he shrugged, his lips twitching into a small smirk. “now i know better. or at least, i’m trying to.”

you rolled your eyes, but your chest felt lighter. “trying might actually suit you.”

“don’t push it,” he said, his grin returning. but his hand brushed yours, lingering just long enough to say what words couldn’t.

the two of you walked along the harbor, the chaos of the grand prix fading into the background. max talked about the weight of expectations, the need to prove himself, and you found yourself telling him things you hadn’t said aloud in years.

“you know,” he said eventually, glancing at you, “you were the first person to beat me. that’s why i kept coming back.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “don’t tell me i’m your origin story, verstappen.”

“i’m serious,” he said, his tone light but his gaze steady. “you pushed me. you still do.”

“and you still hate losing,” you replied, your smile widening.

“only to you,” he said, and for once, there was no teasing in his voice—just max, stripped of the bravado.

as the sun dipped below the horizon, you realized the years apart hadn’t erased what you meant to each other. instead, they’d made it clearer. and standing there with him, the boy who always chased the fastest lap and the man who’d finally stopped running, you felt like you’d found your way back home.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

the skate park beneath the london flyover, painted with graffiti and echoing with the rattle of skateboards, was where it all began. you and lewis—two kids with scraped knees and bigger dreams than you dared to say aloud. he was magnetic even then, always the showman, flipping tricks with effortless swagger while you rolled your eyes, trying not to laugh when he wiped out.

“you see that?” he’d grin, brushing off the dust like he hadn’t just landed flat on his back. “one day, everyone will.”

you’d shake your head, hiding your smile. “maybe if you stop showing off and stick the landing.”

those nights under london’s orange-tinted sky were your sanctuary. but dreams have a way of pulling people in different directions. lewis chased his at 200 mph, trading the skate park for circuits around the world. and you? you stayed grounded, carving out a life with your own quiet determination.

the drift wasn’t dramatic, just... inevitable. the calls came less often, the texts faded, and soon the only glimpses you had of him were on tv, his victories splashed across headlines. you were proud, of course, but it didn’t make the distance hurt any less.

years later, the rhythm of a jazz club in soho pulled you in. the smoky air, the hum of conversation—it felt like stepping into another world. and there he was, sitting in the corner, surrounded by friends, his laugh carrying over the music. he looked... different. calmer, more self-assured, the bravado softened into something real.

his eyes met yours across the room, and the recognition was instant. that signature grin spread across his face, and before you could overthink it, he was already walking toward you.

“it’s been a minute,” he said, his voice warm, familiar.

“a few laps around the world, at least,” you replied, crossing your arms but unable to stop your smile.

he introduced you to his friends—musicians, artists, people with the same kind of restless ambition he always had. the conversation flowed easily, stories and laughter filling the gaps left by the years. lewis talked about the weight of being at the top, his growing love for music, fashion, and using his platform for something bigger than himself.

“you’ve always been good at making noise,” you teased, and he laughed, that bright, unrestrained laugh you hadn’t heard in so long.

the night stretched into dawn, the city quieting as he walked you home. the streetlights cast long shadows, and for a moment, it felt like you were kids again, sneaking through the city after curfew.

“you were always my reminder,” he said suddenly, his voice low. “of where i came from. of what mattered before all of... this.” he gestured vaguely, as if the world he now lived in was too vast to put into words.

“and you were always proof,” you replied softly, “that even the wildest dreams aren’t out of reach.”

standing on your doorstep, the first light of morning brushing the horizon, it hit you—this wasn’t just a chance meeting. this was a reconnection, built on the foundation of a shared past and the people you’d become in the years since.

“don’t disappear again,” you said, half a command, half a plea.

“not a chance,” he replied, that grin softening into something more serious. “i’ve got too much catching up to do.”

as he walked away, the city waking around you, you felt it: the bond you’d thought you’d lost was still there, stronger for the time apart. and maybe, just maybe, this was the start of a new chapter you hadn’t seen coming.

ʚ・george russell

the beach at brancaster felt like a time capsule—same crashing waves, same salty breeze, but now heavy with memories you couldn’t quite shake. summers here used to be everything. you and george, running barefoot through the sand, laughing until your sides ached, dreaming of futures too big for this sleepy little town. he was the dreamer, always looking ahead, while you stayed grounded, the one to remind him where he came from.

but dreams pulled him away. karting turned into formula 1, and suddenly, the boy you shared chips and inside jokes with was a name on TV, surrounded by lights and cameras. the texts slowed, then stopped. he didn’t say goodbye—you weren’t sure if that made it better or worse.

years later, you came back. the town had changed, but the beach hadn’t, and neither had the ache you felt when you saw him standing there, surfboard in hand, staring at the water like it might hold answers.

“you’re here,” he said, voice softer than you remembered.

“so are you,” you replied, trying to sound casual when your heart was doing backflips.

the conversation was awkward at first, years of silence sitting heavy between you. but as the sun dipped low, you found yourself talking like you used to—about life, dreams, and all the things you didn’t say before.

“i messed up,” george admitted finally, staring at the horizon. “i thought chasing my dream meant letting go of everything else. but i never stopped missing you.”

you wanted to be angry, to tell him how much it hurt, but instead, you just sighed. “you’re here now. that’s what matters.”

and maybe it was. because as the tide rolled in, washing away the old scars, it felt like a new beginning—not perfect, but something worth holding onto.

ʚ・carlos sainz

the spanish sun blazed down on the dusty karting track, heat shimmering off the asphalt. carlos was already revving his engine, leaning out of his kart with that trademark grin—the kind that got him out of trouble more times than you could count. "you ready, or are you still fussing over those tires?" he teased, voice playful but competitive.

"some of us like to win without excuses," you shot back, trying to mask your smile.

that was always the dynamic: his fiery, carefree confidence against your calculated focus. you made each other better, but more than that, you were each other's constant—until you weren't.

his talent took him places you couldn't follow. as carlos climbed higher, from karting circuits to formula 1, the calls came less, the visits stopped. he’d always promised, "don’t worry, we’ll figure it out," but the silence between you became louder than any excuse he could give. you told yourself it was fine, that this was just what growing up looked like. but it still hurt—a kind of quiet ache that settled in your chest every time his name flashed on a headline instead of your phone.

years later, you found yourself at a grand prix—not for him, not really, but you couldn’t stay away. the roar of engines, the smell of burning rubber—it all brought you back to those summers when life was simpler, when the world was just the two of you and a dusty track.

after the race, you wandered near the paddock, unsure if you wanted to see him. but before you could decide, you heard his voice: "¡tú! no puede ser…" (you! no way…)

you froze as carlos jogged toward you, his face lighting up in a way that made your chest tighten. "what are you doing here?" he asked, pulling you into a hug before you could respond.

"just watching the race," you said, trying to sound casual. "looks like you’ve gotten a bit better since karting."

he laughed, running a hand through his hair. "and you’re still a pain in my ass, huh?"

you fell into step beside him, talking as if the years hadn’t stretched so far between you. he opened up in a way you didn’t expect—about the pressure, the loneliness, the weight of expectations he never asked for. "sometimes, i miss the old days," he admitted quietly. "it wasn’t perfect, but… it felt real."

"it was real," you said softly, meeting his gaze.

the night slipped by as you talked about everything and nothing, the gap between who you were and who you’d become slowly closing. as the paddock emptied out, he turned to you, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

"i let you down," he said, voice low. "i got so caught up in everything… i didn’t mean to lose you."

you sighed, the bitterness you’d held onto finally starting to loosen. "i let you go, too," you admitted. "but maybe we’re both here for a reason."

a smile broke through his guilt. "then let’s not waste it," he said, his hand brushing yours as if testing the waters.

and just like that, it felt like the beginning of something new—different, but maybe even better. under the dim glow of the paddock lights, with the distant hum of the city, you let yourself believe in second chances.

ʚ・charles leclerc

the monaco grand prix had always been your thing. after every race, you and charles would sneak onto the track, the echo of engines still ringing in your ears. he’d climb the barriers, striking a dramatic pose like he’d just won. “take a picture! i need proof for when it’s real,” he’d say, grinning as you rolled your eyes but clicked the photo anyway.

back then, it was simple—just the two of you, two dreamers chasing something bigger. he was the wild one, always pushing limits, and you? the voice of reason, his constant tether. but as the karting trophies turned into f3 contracts, things shifted. the calls became shorter, the silences longer.

“you don’t understand!” he snapped one night, frustration simmering in his voice. “this is my life now. my future.”

“and we’re not part of that?” you shot back, fighting to keep your tone steady.

his face faltered, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. but then came the stubbornness, the pride. “this is bigger than us,” he said quietly.

those words broke something between you. and the silence that followed stretched for years.

...

monaco hadn’t been in your plans this year, but your friends dragged you to the paddock. the glitz, the champagne—it all felt so distant from the memories you held of sneaking around with charles, pretending to be part of the action. and then, there he was. sharper, leaner, every inch the f1 star. but when his eyes locked on yours, the familiar spark was unmistakable.

“still sneaking into races?” his grin was crooked, teasing.

“you’re one to talk,” you quipped, unable to suppress a smile.

he muttered a quick excuse to his entourage, then turned back to you. “come on. let’s see if the harbor’s still our spot.”

as you walked, the years apart melted away. the easy rhythm returned—teasing, laughing, sharing the unspoken weight of the years. he opened up about the pressures, the loneliness. you admitted the regret, the what-ifs.

“i never stopped missing this,” he said, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “missing you.”

“same,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “you were always...charles.”

“what does that mean?” he asked, a laugh escaping, but there was an edge of nervousness to it.

“it means you’re impossible. but you’re also...you.”

under the stars, by the water’s edge, the pieces fell back into place. his hand brushed against yours, tentative, before settling there. “so, is this where you tell me to stop being impossible?”

“never,” you said, smiling. “you wouldn’t be charles if you did.”

and for the first time in years, it felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

ʚ・lando norris

the fields of somerset were your world once, filled with the roar of go-kart engines and lando’s endless laughter. you two were inseparable—best friends with big dreams, racing not just for fun but for a future you both believed in.

“one day,” lando had said, his grin so wide it was almost ridiculous, “we’ll both be there, except i'll be on the track, and you'll be cheering me on."

“in your dreams, lando,” you shot back, playfully shoving him.

but then the dream started to come true, lando got faster, better, and soon, he was gone, swept up by the racing world. at first, he called after every race, sending photos and jokes to bridge the distance. but the calls became fewer, the texts shorter, until one day they stopped altogether.

“you’ll always be my mate,” he’d promised before he left. but you weren’t so sure anymore.

years passed. you moved on—or tried to. then, one day, you found yourself at silverstone, sitting in the grandstands as the engines roared to life. lando was on the grid, his helmet unmistakable. it felt strange, watching him from so far away, like a stranger instead of the boy you once knew.

after the race, you lingered near the paddock, unsure why you stayed. you didn’t even realize he was there until his voice cut through the noise.

“wait—wait! is that…?” lando stopped mid-step, his wide eyes locking on you. “no way!”

you tried to play it cool, shrugging. “just thought i’d check if you’re still slow.”

his laugh was instant, that same contagious laugh you hadn’t heard in years. “still cheeky, i see. c’mon, don’t just stand there.”

before you could protest, he dragged you into the paddock, his energy as chaotic as ever. it felt awkward at first—forced small talk, apologies buried under nervous jokes.

“i messed up, didn’t i?” he blurted suddenly, his grin fading. “i got caught up in… all of this. forgot what mattered.”

you looked at him, surprised. “yeah, you did. but… i guess i get it. it’s a lot to carry.”

“still,” he said softly, meeting your eyes. “i should’ve tried harder. you didn’t deserve that.”

you sighed, the tension in your chest easing slightly. “well, i’m here now, aren’t i? so stop being sappy and tell me how you survived that awful start.”

he laughed, a mix of relief and gratitude in his expression. “god, you're still an ass. don’t go disappearing again, yeah?”

“only if you don’t.” you snap back, with a cheeky smile.

as the night went on, the awkwardness gave way to something familiar—something that felt like home. and as you left the paddock, lando jogging beside you, stealing chips from your hand like nothing had changed, you realized it wasn’t too late to start over. the bond you thought was lost was still there, waiting for you both to remember how to hold on.

ʚ・oscar piastri

the family barbecue was meant to be casual—just a gathering of old friends and neighbors at the piastris’ home during the off-season. you hadn’t planned to go, but your parents insisted. “it’ll be nice,” they said, not knowing how wrong they were.

you spotted oscar almost immediately, standing by the grill with his dad. his posture was the same, hands stuffed in his pockets, but everything else felt different. gone was the boy you knew, replaced by someone who looked sharper, more distant—someone who belonged to a world you’d never been part of.

the last time you’d spoken was years ago, before his meteoric rise through motorsport. back then, you were the ones sharing data sheets, racing each other at karting events, and joking about who’d make it to formula 1 first. “we’ll always stick together,” he’d said, almost solemnly. but as the sponsorship deals rolled in and the calls stopped, you realized how naïve that promise had been.

you didn’t approach him right away. instead, you lingered by the drink table, hoping he wouldn’t notice you. but oscar was nothing if not observant.

“hey,” he said suddenly, appearing at your side. his voice was quieter than you remembered, less certain.

“hi.” you didn’t look at him, keeping your eyes fixed on your cup.

“i didn’t know you’d be here.” he sounded awkward, almost nervous, which was strange for someone who now handled press conferences with ease.

you shrugged. “didn’t really plan on it.”

a beat of silence stretched between you, heavy and uncomfortable. he shifted his weight, running a hand through his hair. “look, i—i’m sorry. for everything.”

you finally turned to him, eyebrows raised. “for what? forgetting i existed?”

his face fell, and for a moment, he looked just like the boy you used to know—unsure, searching for the right words. “i didn’t mean to. things just… happened so fast. and i didn’t know how to balance it all.”

“you could’ve tried.” the words came out harsher than you intended, but you didn’t regret them.

he nodded, his gaze dropping to the ground. “you’re right. i should have.”

another silence fell, this one softer, less suffocating.

“so,” you said eventually, crossing your arms. “what now? we pretend like nothing happened?”

he looked up, meeting your eyes for the first time. “no. i don’t want that. i just… i’d like to fix this. if you’ll let me.”

you didn’t answer right away, letting the words hang in the air. but then you sighed, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “you’ve got a lot to make up for, oscar.”

his own smile broke through, hesitant but genuine. “i’ll start now then.”

and for the first time in years, you felt like maybe—just maybe—there was still a place for you in his world.

659 notes · View notes

okaylikeschaewon · 5 months ago

Text

Future

~6.5k words, KAMPFyre Part 3, smut

“Where’s your phone?”

Responding was barely a possibility for you as you gasped for air, your chest heaving up and down as you lay on the couch. Without saying anything, you motioned generally towards your pants which were haphazardly thrown across the room in a mess on the floor.

“Code?”

“That’s… a secret…” you huffed, slowly regaining your breath.

Karina walked across the room and held your phone up to your face.

“Hey, that’s cheating,” you whined while making no effort to stop her.

She ignored you and started typing into your phone.

“You don’t have a girlfriend do you?” she asked, pausing and looking up from the screen.

“I feel like that’s something you should have asked earlier,” you laughed as you slipped your shirt back on.

“Do you?” Karina snapped at you. “I’ll delete my number right now if you do.”

“No, really, I don’t,” you chuckled, reaching for your underwear.

Karina held your phone up for a second as you were about to put on your underwear before she started typing into it.

“Did you just take a picture of my dick with my phone?”

“Yeah, I needed to send myself a message,” Karina replied nonchalantly before holding your phone out to you. “Don’t worry, as long as you didn’t lie about the girlfriend thing, no one else will see it.”

“You didn’t actually send it, did you?” you pressed as you slipped your underwear on.

“Of course I did.”

“Delete it.”

“No,” Karina laughed in your face. “Here, since you’re being such a baby about it,” she added after seeing your expression. The girl held your phone up and posed for a selfie. “There you go, the picture you got is worth way more, trust me.”

“What am I supposed to do with your number?” you asked, catching your phone as Karina tossed it to you.

“Oh my God,” Karina paused, shirt in hand, staring at you with mouth agape. “Did I just fuck an idiot?”

“Ha ha very funny,” you rolled your eyes and gestured towards your pants. “You know what I mean.”

“Well,” Karina replied while picking up your pants and handing them to you. “Depending on how tonight goes, maybe I’ll reply when you text me.”

“Tonight?” you inquired, a bit too excitedly.

“Awh, look at you,” Karina teased, staring at your crotch, not missing any opportunity to give you shit. “You’ll have to wait until we’re back at the hotel, unfortunately I’m in a bit of a rush and don’t have time for another round.”

After you slipped your pants on, you patiently watched Karina dress herself. She checked herself with her phone’s camera, clearly unhappy with the state of her hair. Despite her frustration, she settled with pulling her hood up before walking over to where you were sitting. Without any warning, she straddled your lap and stretched the neck of your shirt over your shoulder.

“What the fuck!” you shouted, almost instinctively throwing her off you as she bit into your skin.

“Something to remember me by,” Karina giggled as she stood up. “We’ll continue this at the hotel,” she instructed you while walking towards the door.

Naturally, you began following her when she stopped and turned around.

“You can’t come with me you idiot,” Karina said, looking at you in disbelief. “I swear you’re as dumb as Winter.”

“Why not?”

“Obviously because if anyone sees us they’ll start dating rumors,” Karina tutted. “Especially if they see that mark I left you.”

“How am I supposed to know how this shit works?” you countered. “I’ve never had to deal with dating scandal bullshit.”

“And to keep it that way, you’re going to arrive separately,” Karina instructed in a sarcastic over-the-top sweet voice. “Neither of us wants to deal with that, trust me.”

As soon as Karina closed the door behind her, you pulled out your phone and were about to delete the text she sent. Your plan changed, however, when you opened your phone and were greeted with the selfie she took; It definitely came as a surprise to see the selfie included much more than her face.

—

“You didn’t tell me you were sharing a room,” you whispered as soon as you heard the sound of the shower running.

“Oh fucking relax, you’re very familiar with her already,” Karina entered the hallway and closed the door behind her. “After I’m done with you, maybe you can convince her that your magic nut will make her skin glow or something.”

“It’s Winter? Wait then why are we leaving?” you joked as you followed Karina down the hallway.

“Ex’ fucking ‘scuse me?” she stopped and turned on her heels, glaring at you. “Go.”

She glowered at you, arms crossed, daring you to push the joke further. Part of you considered it, but you decided against risking it. Not an easy choice, not when Karina looked so fucking sexy when she was mad - a great combination when paired with her very short temper.

“That’s what I thought,” she turned back around and continued walking.

“You didn’t give me much of a choice,” you said while catching up with her. “I don’t have the keycard.”

Without missing a beat, she reached into her pocket and pulled it out, tossing it on the floor as she kept walking. She definitely let out a smug chuckle after she heard you pick it up and keep following her; The rest of the walk was silent until the two of you arrived at your destination - the rooftop.

“Wow,” you muttered as soon as the doors opened. “This is gorgeous.”

In front of you was the most luxurious and magnificent rooftop pool to have ever blessed your eyes. The dark blue water was dimly lit from underneath. Around the pool were a number of lounge chairs, also dimly lit by lamps. The whole scene was overlooking the city below, creating the most surreal atmosphere.

“I assume you can swim?” Karina asked, looking over her shoulder as she stepped out of her pants. “Hello?”

While the rooftop and everything was beautiful, you were at an absolute loss for words as your eyes fixated on Karina. Your brain didn’t even register that she had just asked you a question, all you could do was stare at her perfectly shaped ass in the dim light. Karina giggled, shaking her head before slipping off her shirt and bra, tossing them to the side, giving you a view of her toned back. She took just two steps before jumping into the pool, disappearing under the water.

“Aren’t you worried about getting caught?” you asked as you walked up to the side of the pool. “Anyone could come up here.”

“That’s the point,” Karina replied, pushing her hair out of her face. “I woulda brought you into my room otherwise, but where’s the fun in that?”

“Oh I’m sure there would be a lot of fun in that,” you began stripping down. “Maybe when we’re done here we can confirm?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Karina scoffed. “Who says I’d want you in my room after?”

“Who says?” you repeated her words before pretending to hold up a phone. “What’s taking so long, I don’t want to be able to walk tomorrow, hurry up.”

“Oh shut up,” Karina laughed, splashing water at you before swimming to the middle of the pool. “Coming in or what?”

Of course you were, that wasn’t an offer to refuse. You quickly stripped down as well after taking a quick look around to make sure the roof was still empty before jumping into the pool - luckily it was heated, a marvelous blessing. You swam over to where Karina was playfully spinning around in the water.

“Are you always this wild?”

“That’s for you to find out,” she teased, moving her body closer to yours and turning around so that her back was facing you. “Don’t be shy now.”

Exactly the words you wanted to hear from this completely drop-dead gorgeous nude girl. You wrapped your arms around her body, under her arms, and grabbed two full handfuls of Karina’s beautiful tits. She leaned back against you, her ass pressing against your cock while you squished and squeezed her soft chest.

“You’re by far the hottest girl I’ve ever touched,” you whispered into her ear.

“Yeah? Tell me more,” she replied, pushing her ass back onto you.

“You also have the best tits I’ve ever held,” you breathed into her neck before kissing it.

“Careful,” Karina spun around so that she was facing you. “Can’t have you leaving any marks on me.”

“Like the one you gave me?”

She smirked as she placed her hands on your shoulders, gently rubbing where she bit you earlier.

“Does it hurt?” she teased, pressing down on the wound.

“Yeah it fucking hurts,” you answered while your hands grabbed her ass under the water and squeezed hard.

“I’m sure you’ll survive,” she smirked playfully. “Didn’t I make it worth it?”

“You’re still making it worth it,” you answered, giving her ass another rough squeeze.

“How about you stop treating me like a sex doll and tell me a bit about yourself,” Karina suggested, gently floating away from you.

“It’s tough when you look so much like one,” you teased back before moving your hands up from her ass, resting them on her hips instead. “Alright, what do you wanna know?”

“Anything,” she replied, her arms dangling on your shoulders now as she walked around the pool with you. “Other than your magical vocal cum, I really don’t know anything about you.”

“Well, I graduated last year, since then I’ve kinda just been trying to find a place for myself.”

“And you feel that place is working events?” Karina inquired.

“Nah, that was a part-time thing,” you replied. “Partially for the money, partially because I was bored.”

“How come you didn’t go into whatever you studied in college?” Karina continued. “Don’t tell me you have some useless arts degree or something.”

“For a singer, I figured you’d respect the arts a bit more.”

“Fair point,” Karina chuckled. “What was your major anyway?”

“Some bullshit in a field I’d never want to work in.”

Karina cocked an eyebrow at you.

“Not that I’m judging you for it, but then why…”

“Because I was lost coming out of highschool, didn’t know what I wanted to do.”

“I get that,” she said sympathetically. “It’s not an easy decision to make, especially at that age.”

“You say that, but didn’t you make your decision when you were way younger? It’s something I read when I was looking you guys up.”

“True, doesn’t mean it’s easy,” Karina continued. “Everyone goes through their own journey, I wouldn’t ever discredit that.”

“That’s quite the mature stance.”

“What, you don’t take me as mature?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it.”

“I can’t tell if it’s the fact that we’re both naked,” you paused to look at her body. “But I feel some tension.”

“We’ll relieve all of that tension soon enough,” Karina smiled. “Tell me more about yourself, first. Relationships?”

“I told you I didn’t have a girlfriend,” you rolled your eyes.

“Stop being silly,” Karina giggled, flicking a few droplets of water onto your face. “Have you had any?”

“I ended my last one after my senior year,” you answered.

“Bad terms?”

“Not necessarily,” you replied. “She moved away, I wasn’t interested in long distance.”

“You weren’t interested in long distance or long distance with her?”

“I haven’t really thought about that before,” you pondered her question, it was an interesting one now that you had it in your mind. “Honestly, I want to say in general.”

Even in the dim light you noticed Karina’s face dropped just a tiny bit at that comment.

“But I’m not sure,” you continued. “I just haven’t done it before, so maybe with the right person?”

“It’s not easy, though,” Karina commented. “It usually doesn’t work out.”

“Maybe not, but I think for the right person it wouldn’t matter how difficult it is.”

“That’s a nice way to look at it,” Karina smiled at you.

“Who would have thought I’d be having a meaningful conversation in a setting like this tonight,” you chuckled. “You’re really just full of surprises.”

“Sometimes being vulnerable leads to good conversation,” Karina giggled. “So, what’s your next adventure?”

“I wish I knew myself,” you answered honestly. “I guess I’ll just see where life takes me.”

“Regardless of where you end up, I’m glad you decided to work the event tonight,” Karina again smiled warmly at you. “Somehow some way it led to where we are now.”

“Where we are now? You mean me having a bite mark on my shoulder?”

“Poor baby,” she mocked before pushing against your chest and swimming to the edge of the pool. She began climbing out, pausing with her ass facing you to look over her shoulder. “Come on, get your revenge then, I’m waiting.”

By the time you swam over, she had climbed out of the pool, standing there watching you as the night sky illuminated her bare body, hands on her hips. You climbed out of the pool and turned her around before slapping your palm against her ass, sending droplets of water flying in every direction.

“Oh yeah,” she cooed into the night sky. “Fucking punish me.”

“You done with your interview?”

“I guess so,” she responded. “Now let’s get to why you’re really here.”

The tonal shift of the night was music to your ears. She wanted it now, and that’s exactly what she’d get. You pushed her forward until she made contact with the railing at the edge of the roof, then you pushed some more until she was completely bent over.

It was the most beautiful sight. You dropped down to your knees and spread Karina’s ass cheeks apart before shoving your face into them. Your tongue made contact with her pussy, giving it a couple of deep licks before you slapped her ass and stood back up, grabbing your cock. Eating her out from behind was so tempting, but you knew you had to get on with it already.

“Come on, hurry up,” she gasped as soon as your cock rubbed against the entrance of her pussy, confirming what you already predicted. “Don’t make me bite you again.”

“You’re insatiable,” you moaned as your cock finally invaded her pussy.

“Fuck. Me.”

There was no easing into it, no point in taking it slow. Karina wanted your dick and she wanted it now. Really, it was your responsibility to deliver. You began thrusting into her pussy, spraying more water around as your skin slapped against her skin. Under your palms, her hips began shaking with each shove of your cock.

“Oh fuck yeah there we go,” she moaned. “Fuck me like your little whore.”

No matter how hard you slammed into Karina’s cheeks, the girl wanted more. It was absolutely overwhelming, this complete fuck-doll of a girl was absolutely breathtaking the way she took your dick. This girl left you esurient over her, forcing your body to try desperately to give her what she wanted - which was also exactly what you wanted.

“Harder,” she begged in desperation. “Fuck me harder.”

In an attempt to give the wanton girl what she wanted, you placed your hands on her shoulders, giving you better leverage. You started thrusting your hips even harder into her backside, each slap of skin on skin echoing into the night. Anyone with their window open would hear the wet smacking of your thighs into Karina’s ass.

Her pussy was gripping your cock hard, nearly cutting off circulation. She was incredibly tight, yet so easily fuckable. Not only did she manage to squeeze your cock hard with her pussy, she also gave you almost no resistance. Perhaps it felt this way because you were thrusting with all your strength - it didn’t fucking matter.

What mattered was Karina’s moans, her pussy around your cock, the warmth and wetness of her body combining with yours. Her pleasure became your pleasure. All the sexual tension between the two of you led up to this moment. Fucking her hard on this roof couldn’t be compared to anything else.

This was so much better than the post-show quickie from earlier. This time you had as long as you wanted. You could probably fuck Karina all night - she’d like that. Your body was the only thing holding you back, but even as you continuously plowed Karina’s soft body, you somehow found the strength to keep going as if stamina did not exist.

Your fingers squeezed her shoulders hard in an attempt to hold her steady. You couldn’t see them clearly, but even from behind you could see her massive tits flinging back and forth with each thrust. Her body was fucking perfect. Part of you wanted to reach around her and grab them again, but you weren’t capable of changing a thing right now. All you could do was keep the rhythmic thrusting of your hips going.

“I’m going to fucking cum!” she cried out, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the railing.

She deserved no reprieve, not that she wanted any. You knew exactly what she wanted, and you were going to keep giving it to her. In and out your cock went, destroying her pussy, pushing as deep as physically possible. Her body was starting to go limp, her legs starting to bed as she began depending on the railing to keep her upright.

Just as she was about to collapse, you let go of her shoulders and wrapped your arms around her body, holding her up for the final barrage of fucking. You drove as hard and fast as you could for what felt like minutes (but was probably just a few seconds) until a slurry of cuss words spilled out of Karina’s mouth in all of its orgasmic beauty.

Karina was practically sobbing as her body convulsed into a pile on the ground in front of you. She slipped one hand between her legs and began touching herself, her legs still squirming as her back arched towards the clouds above. With her free hand, she tried reaching up for your cock, missing entirely until you grabbed her wrist and guided her to your shaft.

“Fucking cum on me,” she panted, eyes still closed as she started jerking you off. “Wherever you want.”

Your cock was already itching to explode, and her repetitive ‘cum for me’ requests as she stroked your length had brought you as close to your own climax as possible. The possibilities quickly flashed before your eyes: cover her face, down her throat, on her tits, and anywhere else on that beautiful body of hers.

Ultimately, you didn’t even bother choosing, you simply enjoyed the sensation as Karina jerked you off. She opened her mouth, her eyes still closed at this point, and tried to feebly aim your cock towards it, but it was futile. As your cock began erupting, the initial massive spurts landed directly on her chest.

With any remaining consciousness you had left, you grabbed your cock and pushed it against Karina’s mouth until it entered her lips. She started sucking at your tip, letting the rest of your seed fill her mouth. The hand she had around your cock was now rubbing your cum all over her tits, leaving a glossy shine on her beautiful breasts. Her other hand was still working between her legs.

Once your cock had finally emptied itself, Karina opened up her eyes and looked straight up at you. With your tip still in her mouth, she began licking circles around it, coaxing out every last drop of cum until she was satisfied you were empty. Before letting go of your cock, she had already swallowed.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” you moaned, sliding down against the railing to sit next to her.

“I’m also covered in your cum,” she commented nonchalantly before turning to you. “Oh sorry, I thought we were sharing obvious truths.”

Both of you started giggling.

“Where the fuck have you been all my life,” you sighed, staring up at the sky.

“What matters is that I’m here now,” Karina replied, turning her head towards you.

“You’re right, there’s no point in us wasting any time,” you responded, reaching your hand over and sliding it between her legs.

“Now who’s insatiable,” she teased, spreading her legs to give you easier access while she reached her own hand towards your lap, grabbing your semi-erect cock. “Ooh, still sensitive are we?”

“Give me a moment,” you moaned as electric shocks shot up your spine at Karina’s touch.

“No,” she giggled as she continued to stroke your cock, making you squirm in her hand.

It was too much for your body. You grabbed her wrist and forced her away, and before she could protest you had already pushed her onto her back so that she was lying beneath you. With one hand on each of her tits, you slid your face down her body until you were right in front of her pussy.

Karina placed her hands on top of yours, squeezing your hands into her tits as soon as your lips touched her pussy. Her breaths started getting heavier as your tongue probed at her clit. By the time you pressed your mouth against her pussy, she was panting. You went from licking all around her pussy to shoving your tongue inside her, tasting her from inside. She let go of your hands and grabbed your hair, pressing your face deeper into her delicious pussy.

Your own hands slowly slid down her body, smearing the cum on her tits all over her. You moved your face back and shoved two fingers into her pussy, watching her writhe in pleasure for a moment before planting your lips on her clit, stimulating as much of her body as you could.

“Oh fuck- please- fuck-” Karina gasped, incapable of forming any coherent sentences. “I’m- fuck-”

With your free hand, you grabbed your cock and gave it a couple of strokes. It was rock hard and ready to go, but you waited until Karina’s body stopped squirming so violently - depriving her of this pleasure would be an unforgivable crime.

“You’re making me fucking cum,” Karina cried out, almost pulling the hair off your scalp. “I’m…”

She calmed down suddenly, the energy draining out of her. The only movements left were the deep breaths she took and the little jolts every time your fingers moved inside her. Slowly, you withdrew both fingers and sensually ran them up her body towards her mouth. She opened her lips just wide enough for you to put your fingers into her mouth, sucking on them with any remaining energy she had left.

After giving her a few moments to compose herself, you got up onto your knees and positioned yourself between Karina’s legs. Your cock was throbbing at this point, begging you to enter her pussy again. You gripped the base and slowly rubbed it up and down Karina’s pussy until she opened her eyes and stared at you. Just as you were about to push into her, she shook her head.

“Stop,” she mumbled before sitting up in front of you.

Karina pushed you back with her hand until you were sitting with your back against the railing. The sheer sexiness she was emitting as she crawled forward towards you, her massive tits hanging down in front of her as she bent over you, had your cock ready to erupt already - and she hadn’t even touched it yet.

She held her mouth over your shaft, eyes looking down, parting her lips enough to let a glob of spit fall down onto your tip. Then, in one single motion, she brought her mouth down to your cock and slowly lowered it until she had engulfed your entire shaft, spreading her saliva evenly across your cock.

“Oh my fucking God,” you gasped as her tongue gently toyed with your tip. “Karina…”

Slowly, she brought her lips back up and sat up straight in front of you. She stared directly into your eyes with the most lascivious gaze you have ever seen in your life as her hand grabbed your cock, giving it a single stroke before she straddled your body. She already had your cock trembling and she knew it.

With one hand guiding your cock, she slowly lowered herself onto you. Your body entered her seamlessly, reuniting with that divine feeling of Karina’s pussy. She lowered herself all the way, letting go of your cock and putting both of her hands on your shoulders. She went up and down a couple more times, painfully slowly.

Each time she moved her body, you were scared she’d send you right over the edge. You didn’t want this to end - not yet. In an attempt to draw it out as long as possible, you sat still, closing your eyes tight. Steadily, she began speeding up just a bit. As you got closer and closer, she moved quicker and quicker.

“I’m really fucking close,” you moaned. “You’re going to make me cum.”

“Let it happen,” she whispered before grabbing the back of your head and pressing it into her chest. “Cum in me.”

That was too much for you. As soon as you heard her words and felt her soft tits engulf your face, you knew it was over. You were seconds away from exploding, nothing could stop you now. Knowing this, you reached your arms around her body and grabbed her ass with each hand.

With Karina’s tits still pressed against your face, you started thrusting your hips upwards. Each thrust pressed her tits harder against your skin. It only lasted probably ten seconds before you began unloading. You had no more energy to do anything but hold onto Karina’s body, you held steady as your cock launched cum deep into her pussy.

Each spurt of cum felt like a bullet with the force it launched out with. There was a lot, more than you thought possible considering all the previous events of the night; Your cock felt like it was never going to stop. Burst after burst of your seed painted Karina’s insides, overflowing as some of the warm mess slid down your shaft as well. Eventually, your cock did manage to calm down.

“Holy fucking shit,” you moaned, letting go of Karina’s body slowly.

She leaned back, smiling proudly at you before slowly lifting herself up. A gush of your cum spilled out of her pussy immediately, landing all over your crotch.

“How was that?” she slurred before bending over and licking at your tip gently.

It almost made you want to cry with how sensitive your cock was right now, but at least Karina was being gentle for once.

“Fucking perfect,” you moaned.

Karina played with the mess of cum, using her pinky finger to scoop some into her mouth before she went back to playfully licking at your tip.

“Let’s get cleaned up,” she suggested after giving you a few moments to gather your strength. She stood up and held her hands out for you.

The two of you rinsed off using the outdoor showers by the pool before grabbing towels.

“It’s getting kinda chilly up here” you said hesitantly, hoping the night would last forever.

“Down to come to the room for a bit?” Karina asked, equally hesitantly. “I know it’s late-”

“Yes absolutely.”

Her bright smile could have put the moon to shame.

—

“Winter is probably asleep by now, so just come out to the balcony,” Karina whispered as she carefully closed the door behind you.

Sure enough, Winter was asleep on the bed. The shocker, however, was the fact that half of her body wasn’t covered by the sheets. In fact, it wasn’t covered by anything, apparently Winter liked sleeping nude. The two of you carefully stepped out onto the balcony, closing the door behind you.

“What a night,” Karina sighed, leaning against the railing.

“I know right,” you agreed, taking in the beautiful view before you. “Wherever we end up now, I’ll never forget this night,” you muttered, staring into the night sky.

Karina took a step closer to you and leaned her head against your shoulder.

“I still don’t quite understand how things happened like this, but I’m glad they did,” she whispered softly.

It was oddly intimate - not something you expected from an arrangement born out of pure lust, but it felt nice. You stood there silently, simply enjoying Karina’s company, almost forgetting about the more carnal activities of the night. Seeing Karina’s sentimental side really put into perspective how unorthodox everything was.

Not that it mattered, this would probably be the last time you’d ever talk to the girl let alone see her again. To think, this girl who you didn’t know existed this morning, was now making your chest thump as if you were about to lose a significant part of your life. It was just one night, but why did it feel like so much more? It’s not like this was your first one night stand with a girl.

“This sucks,” Karina mumbled quietly.

“Well shit, my bad, I’ll leave.”

“Oh shush,” Karina lifted her head off your shoulder and turned to face you, leaning on the railing with you.

The amount of pure melancholy in her eyes was not something you were prepared to see. Carefully, you used your thumbs to wipe under her eyes before any tears fell.

“A girl my age…” Karina explained. “I just… I love sex, but it fucking sucks not being able to do this back home.”

“I hope I’m not overstepping with this, but why exactly can’t you?” you probed gently. “I only mean that a girl as beautiful as you… it shouldn’t be very difficult?”

“Ever since I became an idol, I’ve essentially been banned from anything related to guys,” she sighed, her breath filled to the brim with sorrow. “I love it of course, don’t get me wrong, I just miss this one part of my life from before.”

“Again, risk of overstepping, but why-”

“Why’d I do all this with you?” Karina finished your sentence. “I don’t know, maybe it was just seeing your cock out when I walked in the room earlier, maybe it was because Winter mentioned that you had no idea who we were, or maybe I’m tired of not getting any action.”

“I… don’t really know what to say.”

“I guess I just trust you, can’t really explain it,” she continued softly. “Probably why I took that picture on your phone.”

“Yeah I was gonna ask about that actually.”

“It doesn’t really matter,” Karina laughed. “Even if you did post it somewhere, everyone would just think it’s fake.”

“I’m not going to post it.”

There was a moment’s pause between the two of you before Karina spoke up again.

“Come back with us.”

“What?” you couldn’t believe your ears. “What do you mean?”

“Quit your job and come to Korea with us.”

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” you chuckled. “As much as I wish I could just get up and move to Korea, I don’t know if I can.”

“How about you at least stay with us for the next week while we’re in the US?” Karina pleaded. “What’ll it take to make you quit your job?”

“Holy shit you’re being serious right now,” you responded. “I mean, working the event was a part-time job, this was my last night…”

“Great, so how about for just the next week you stay, and we’ll figure the rest out later.”

“Karina-”

“We’ll cover the costs, food, transport, whatever you need,” she continued. “Please?”

Before answering, you took a second to think about what to say.

“Are you sure this is what you actually want?” you asked cautiously. “We obviously just had a lot of fun tonight, but I don’t want that to influence you into doing something you’d regret.”

“Fuck’s sake, stop overthinking it,” Karina rolled her eyes at you. “Spend the next week sleeping with me, and if I get bored I’ll just kick you out.”

“When you put it like that, what’s there really to lose?” you laughed as her aggressive nature returned. “Alright, for one week your sweet ass belongs to me.”

“Belongs to you?” Karina’s head launched back as she burst out laughing. “That’s so cute coming from a glorified dildo.”

“Glorified dildo? I’ll take it.”

The two of you laughed together, simply enjoying each other’s company. The way her eyes, lit up by the scarce moonlight, shined through her squint. Those adorable upside down crescents were making your heartbeat just a little bit quicker. As the laughs subsided, she stared at you tenderly with a smile on her lips.

“Can I kiss you?” she asked suddenly.

After everything the two of you did tonight, one would assume this was an irrelevant question, but it was potentially the most attractive thing she did all night. You didn’t even answer her with words; Without a second thought, you stepped right in front of her and grabbed her face with both hands before tilting your head sideways and pushing your lips to hers.

She kissed you back, her arms wrapping around your back, pushing you closer to her. Her lips, so plump and full, felt absolutely perfect. The kiss felt perfect. She felt perfect. The sun could have come up for all you cared, nothing would make you want to end this moment - that was until you heard the door open behind you.

“I heard laughing,” a groggy voice came through the curtains.

Karina immediately stepped back from you as both of you turned to see Winter step onto the balcony, rubbing her eyes with her hands.

“I’m sorry, we didn’t mean to wake you,” Karina pulled her into a hug, patting her back. “Let’s go inside, you’re not dressed to be on the balcony.”

It was very true, the girl who would sleep nude only bothered putting on a shirt before coming out to the balcony. You followed the two of them into the room where Winter slipped back into her bed and Karina sat next to her.

“So is someone going to explain what’s going on?” Winter asked, still in her groggy state.

“We were just chatting,” Karina started.

“About what?” Winter pressed before turning to look at you. “Oh also, hello! It’s nice to see you again.”

“Hey, likewise!” you responded warmly, waiting for Karina to take the lead.

“I was thinking,” Karina continued. “If you really felt like your arrangement with him worked, why don’t we keep him around until we have to go back home?”

“Do you really believe me now?” Winter asked Karina excitedly.

“I… do…” Karina faked a smile back.

Winter jumped up and pulled Karina into a hug, letting the bed sheets fall off her, revealing her bare ass to you.

“Thank you thank you thank you for this!” Winter cheered, any sleepiness from a moment ago completely absent. “This is an amazing idea!” Winter let go of Karina and turned around to face you, sitting on her knees on the bed. “And thank you for doing this for us!”

“Us?” Karina interjected.

“Yeah, you’re also going to keep swallowing loads, right?” Winter asked innocently.

“Of course she is,” you answered before she could say anything. “In fact, Karina was telling me something about it making your skin glow.”

“Really?” Winter gasped, covering her mouth. “I’d love to try that.”

She really made it too easy.

“How about tomorrow?” you suggested. “That way the two of you can rest up, it’s pretty late after all.”

“Great idea,” Karina replied from behind Winter’s back, shaking her head at your ridiculous plan. “I guess you might as well spend the night, like you said, it’s pretty late.”

—

Your brain turned on before your body. At this moment, nothing could get you to open your eyes and get out of bed, especially after that phenomenal dream. Maybe laying in the soft sheets would let you relive it some more, experience that vivid sensation of fucking this mystery girl named Karina. You let yourself relish in the state of bliss for just a bit longer before opening your eyes.

That’s when it hit you - it wasn’t a dream. In the next bed lay Winter, peacefully exhaling through her nose. You got out of the bed and then the next segment of reality hit you - you were incredibly sore.

“Fuck,” you whispered quietly to avoid waking Winter as you clutched your abs.

Once you stood up, you stretched as far as you could, reaching towards the roof. The curtain was left mostly open, letting in the morning sun. You walked over to close it, not wanting to disturb the peaceful girl sleeping. As you started walking towards the bathroom, curiosity got the best of you and you took a little detour to walk next to Winter’s bed.

Carefully, to make sure she didn’t wake up, you lifted the sheets and took a peek under them. Just as you thought, she was wearing nothing but a shirt. You gently put the sheets back as the reality was really starting to set in; Everything that happened last night was real.

After using the bathroom, you stood in front of the sink and splashed your face with water a couple of times to help wake you up. That’s when the next question hit you - Where was Karina? Maybe that part wasn’t real? Then you remembered something, you stretched the neck of your shirt over your shoulder and sure enough there it was, the bite mark she left. You let out a sigh of relief as you realized everything was real.

Your calmness didn’t last long as someone started slamming on the door.

“Are you almost done? I need to pee!”

“Sorry, go ahead,” you opened the door to see Winter standing there

She ran in and didn’t even bother closing the door. You quickly stepped out of the bathroom, giving her privacy. Once she was done, she came out into the room and stood in front of you.

“Can we try the skin thing now?” Winter asked innocently, not caring that she was still wearing nothing but a shirt.

“Skin… oh right, that.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Oh, um, of course we can,” you replied. “Do you know where Karina went by the way?”

Almost as if she was waiting for you to ask, there was a knock on the door.

“I got it,” you quickly stopped Winter from answering it, gesturing downwards.

“Oh, right,” Winter giggled. “Let me put on some clothes.”

“You still have my keycard,” Karina announced as soon as you let her in. “I ordered breakfast.”

“You know you could have just called them,” you said.

“I didn’t want to wake you up,” Karina replied, her cheeks tinted slightly pink.

“Oh.”

There was a moment of silence in the room before Winter broke it.

“Is there something going on here?”

“Nothing like that,” Karina answered immediately.

“Okay, good,” Winter said cheerily as she jumped onto her bed. “I, for one, am very excited for my upcoming vocal lessons.”

“And a new skincare routine,” you added.

“Skincare routine,” Karina repeated quietly so only you could hear, shaking her head. “I can’t believe my life right now.”

“Get used to it, you’ve committed to a week,” you whispered back to her.

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

---

A/N:

There we go, since the last part had such a phenomenal reaction and because I've really been wanting to write Karina, the not-very-long awaited sequel is here. As I mentioned above, this is the final part to this trilogy. HOWEVER, I'm not opposed to continuing this story in another fashion, perhaps a small time skip leading into another trilogy. I'll have to think about what exactly I want to do, but I have a strong feeling this won't be the last time I write this version of Aespa.

Hope you guys enjoyed, I wouldn't expect another update from me any time soon. I'm still working on my Dating Seraphs series, this was just a small yet fun detour, but I have no idea when the next update will be for it. Huge thanks to everyone who left a kind comment or message or simply just read and enjoyed the last part, it really helped inspire my "return" to writing!

#kpop smut #kpop fanfic #male reader #aespa karina #aespa winter #aespa smut #smut #fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

lifeofpriya · 3 months ago

Text

I Mean It - Franco Colapinto

[gif credit goes to @argentinagp]

summary: your friendship with franco takes a surprising turn when his protective instincts kick in...

"Oh god, it's Chad again," you murmur under your breath, watching him stumble towards you with his friends in tow.

"Who's that?" asks Franco, not taking his eyes off the road. His grip on the steering wheel tightens almost imperceptibly.

You roll your eyes, the neon lights from the street outside flickering in the car's cabin. "Chad. He's had a thing for me since high school, but I've never given him the time of day."

Franco's eyes flick to the rearview mirror, catching your reflection. "Well, maybe he just needs to realize you're not interested." His voice is calm, but there's an undercurrent of something else—concern, perhaps.

You sigh, watching Chad and his entourage draw closer to the car. "I've told him plenty of times, but he's like a bad penny."

Franco's jaw clenches as he shifts gears. The engine purrs beneath you, a comforting sound in the growing tension. "Why don't you let me handle it?"

You glance at him, surprised by his protective tone. "It's okay, I can handle it."

But as Chad knocks on the window, his leering smile plastered across his face, you feel a shiver of fear. You've dealt with this before, but something about the way he's looking at you tonight sends a chill down your spine.

Franco doesn't miss a beat. He rolls down the window, his eyes cold and sharp. "What do you want?" he asks, his Argentine accent more pronounced than usual.

Chad's smile falters, glancing from you to Franco and back again. "Just saying hi to my old classmate here," he slurs, gesturing towards you with a sloppy wave.

"Hi's been said," Franco replies curtly, his eyes never leaving Chad's. "Now if you don't mind, we're busy."

Chad's friends snicker, but his smile turns sour. He leans closer, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath. "What's going on here, then? You two on a date?"

You tense, ready to speak, but Franco beats you to it. "It's none of your business what we're doing." His voice is even, but the muscles in his neck stand out, a clear sign of his growing irritation.

Chad's eyes narrow, his grip on the window frame tightening. "It is when they're with me," he sneers, his hand reaching for the car door.

Without hesitating, Franco's hand shoots out and grabs Chad's wrist, his grip firm and unyielding. "Back off," he warns, his voice a low growl. "Or you're going to regret it."

Chad's friends exchange uneasy glances, taking a step back. They hadn't seen this side of him before—the fierce, protective side that only emerged when someone threatened someone he cared about. You sit frozen in the passenger seat, heart racing.

"Take your hand off me," Chad spits, trying to pull away.

Franco's grip tightens, his eyes never leaving yours. "You heard me. Back. Off."

Chad tries to jerk his hand away, but Franco's hold is like steel. The unspoken message is clear: no one messes with you on his watch. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of his protective stance, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at the intertwined hands—Chad's meaty and desperate, Franco's firm and unwavering.

"You don't know who you're dealing with," Chad slurs, his voice shaking slightly.

Franco's eyes flick to Chad's face, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea." He releases Chad's wrist and the other man stumbles back, almost falling.

Chad's friends grab his arms, whispering in his ear, trying to calm him down. His cheeks flush with a mix of alcohol and embarrassment. He glares at you before stumbling away, his words slurred and angry. "You'll regret this, you little tease."

Franco's gaze follows Chad until he's out of sight. Then, he turns to you, his expression softer. "You okay?" His hand reaches over to give your knee a gentle squeeze.

"I could have handled that myself, you know," you murmur, trying to regain your composure.

Franco's hand lingers on your knee for a moment before retreating back to the steering wheel. "I know," he says softly. "But I didn't like the way he was looking at you."

You nod, feeling a strange mix of emotions—gratitude, relief, and a flutter of something more. You've never seen Franco act like this before, not even when he's racing against the clock. "Thanks for that," you manage to say, your voice shakier than you'd like.

He nods, his eyes flicking back to the road. "No problem," he says, but you can see the tension in his jaw. He's not one to get involved in other people's drama, especially not like this. But there's something about you that makes him want to protect you, even though you've never talked about being more than friends.

The car rolls to a stop at a red light, and you both sit in silence, the hum of the engine the only sound. You can feel the warmth of his hand where it touched your knee, and you're suddenly very aware of how close you are. The chemistry between you has always been palpable, but this is the first time it's felt so intense.

The light turns green, and the car jolts forward. You clear your throat, trying to break the silence. "So, do you do that for all your friends?" you ask, trying to keep your voice light.

Franco glances at you, his eyes lingering for a moment. "Only the ones who are worth it," he says with a small smile.

You laugh nervously, your heart racing. The air in the car feels charged with something new. You both know there's a line that's been crossed tonight—a line you're not sure either of you is ready to talk about.

Franco's eyes flick to you again, a question in them. "Do you want me to take you home?" he asks.

You nod, the adrenaline from the encounter with Chad starting to wear off. The thought of being alone with him, in the quiet of the night, sends a thrill through you. "Yes, please."

The rest of the drive is tense, filled with the unspoken words hanging in the air. You can't help but steal glances at Franco, his strong profile silhouetted against the glow of the dashboard. His focus is solely on the road, but you can feel his eyes on you every now and then, checking if you're okay.

When he pulls up to your house, the engine's purr dies down to a gentle rumble. He puts the car in park but doesn't turn it off. The silence between you is thick, charged with the unspoken tension of the night's events.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Franco asks, his voice gentle but still holding a hint of the steel from earlier.

You nod, trying to ignore the way your stomach flutters when he looks at you with genuine concern. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for, you know, not letting him ruin my night."

Franco smiles, his eyes searching yours. "You don't have to thank me for that." He pauses, his hand hovering over the ignition. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You shake your head. "Not really." The words tumble out before you can stop them. You're not ready to dissect the mess of emotions swirling inside you.

Franco nods, his hand dropping to his lap. "Okay." He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling in the dim light. "But if you ever need to talk, I'm here."

You appreciate his understanding, the sincerity in his voice. "I know," you murmur, reaching for the door handle. The cool night air seeps into the car as you open the door.

"Hey," he says, stopping you before you can step out. His hand grazes your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. "I mean it."

You look back at him, the intensity in his eyes making your heart race even faster. "Thanks," you murmur, feeling the weight of his words. You've known each other for years, but this is a side of Franco you haven't seen before—vulnerable, caring, and fiercely protective. It's intoxicating.

As you step out of the car, the cool evening air brushes against your flushed cheeks. You pause, glancing over your shoulder at him. "Would you, uh, want to come in for a bit?" You hadn't planned on asking, but the words just slip out.

Franco's eyes light up, a smile spreading across his face. "Yeah," he says, a hint of surprise in his voice. "I'd like that."

You lead him inside, the warm glow of your house a stark contrast to the dark, quiet street outside. The door clicks shut behind you, and suddenly, the air feels different—electric. You both know that this night has changed something between you, and you're both equally terrified and excited by it.

\\\

In the cozy living room, you offer him a seat on the couch. He sits, his movements deliberate and cautious, as if he's afraid to shatter the delicate moment. You sit opposite him in an armchair, the space between you feeling both vast and suffocatingly small.

You start with small talk, asking about his racing career, the upcoming races he's excited for, trying to keep the conversation light. He answers, his eyes never leaving yours, and you can see the excitement in them when he talks about his passion. But there's something else there too—an unspoken question, a silent plea for you to acknowledge the shift in your friendship.

As the conversation lulls, the air between you crackles with unspoken feelings. You bite your lip, wondering if you're reading too much into his protective behavior earlier. Maybe it was just a friend looking out for a friend.

Franco clears his throat, breaking the silence. "So, that guy," he says, his voice low. "What's the deal with him?"

You shrug, trying to play it cool. "He's just an old classmate who doesn't get the hint."

Franco's gaze intensifies, his eyes searching yours. "But he's more than that, isn't he?"

You swallow hard, noticing the way the shadows play across his face, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and the concern etched into his brow. "Yeah," you admit. "He's been bothering me for a while now."

Franco's jaw tenses, his hands clenching into fists on the armrest. "If he ever bothers you again, you tell me. I won't let him get away with it."

You nod, feeling the gravity of his promise. "I know."

Franco leans forward, closing the distance between you. "But I'm not just talking about Chad," he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I don't like seeing you upset or scared."

You look down at your hands, twisting in your lap. "I know," you reply, your voice barely above a murmur. "But it's not your problem to deal with."

"It is when it involves you," Franco insists, his eyes never leaving yours. "I care about you."

The words hang in the air, and you feel a rush of heat to your cheeks. You've had a crush on him for what feels like forever, but you've never dared to hope he felt the same way. "Franco…"

He takes a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. "I know we're just friends," he says, his voice a soft rumble. "But I can't ignore how I feel anymore."

You look up, your heart pounding in your chest. "How do you feel?" you ask, the question a whisper in the quiet room.

Franco leans closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "I think you know," he murmurs, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

You can't help but lean into his touch, your eyes closing for a brief moment. When you open them again, you find him staring at you with a look that makes your heart ache. "I've had feelings for you for a while now," he confesses, his voice a soft rumble. "But I didn't want to mess up what we have."

You swallow hard, trying to find the right words. "You wouldn't mess it up," you murmur, your voice barely audible. "I've had feelings for you too."

The confession hangs in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the tension that's been building between you for so long. Franco's hand lingers on your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin as if memorizing every inch of you.

You lean closer, the space between your faces shrinking until you can feel his breath on your lips. "Then why did you wait so long?" you ask, your voice trembling slightly.

Franco's hand slides around the back of your neck, his thumb stroking your skin in a gentle, soothing motion. "I didn't know if you felt the same," he admits, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt or rejection. "I didn't want to ruin our friendship."

You lean into his touch, the warmth of his hand spreading through your body. "It's okay," you whisper. "I've felt the same way."

Franco's gaze lingers on your mouth, and you can see the moment he decides. He leans in, closing the gap between you. His lips are soft, tentative at first, as if asking for permission. You give it, your eyes fluttering shut as you lean into the kiss. The chemistry that's been simmering between you for so long ignites, sending sparks through your veins.

The kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more needy. His other hand finds its way to your waist, pulling you closer, as if trying to erase the years of unspoken longing. You wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. The world outside the confines of the armchair fades away, leaving only the two of you.

As the kiss breaks, you both lean back, panting. The air is thick with anticipation, your hearts racing in sync. "I've wanted to do that for so long," you murmur, your voice hoarse with emotion.

Franco's eyes are dark with desire, his hand still resting on the back of your neck. "Me too," he whispers, his thumb caressing your skin in a gentle rhythm. "But I didn't want to push you."

You smile, feeling the warmth of his palm against your cheek. "You didn't push. I wanted it too."

Franco's smile widens, his eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt. Finding none, he leans in again, his lips brushing against yours in a soft caress that sends your heart racing. This time, the kiss is slower, more deliberate, as if he's savoring every moment.

You melt into him, feeling his warmth envelop you like a blanket on a cold night. His arms tighten around you, and you realize that you've never felt safer, more cherished. It's as if he's been waiting for this moment just as long as you have.

"I should have told you sooner," he whispers against your lips, regret lacing his words.

You shake your head, your heart hammering in your chest. "It's okay," you reply, your voice a breathy whisper. "We're here now."

Franco's arms tighten around you, his warmth seeping through your clothes. You press closer, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm, the comforting thud echoing in your ear. The weight of his confession settles on you, a warmth spreading through your body that has nothing to do with the heat of the moment.

You pull back slightly, needing to look into his eyes. "What happens now?" you ask, your voice a whisper in the quiet room.

Franco's gaze holds yours, filled with a vulnerability that makes your heart ache. "Whatever you want to happen," he says, his thumb tracing small circles on your cheek. "We take it slow, we talk, we figure it out."

You nod, your pulse racing. The idea of navigating a romantic relationship with your best friend is both exhilarating and terrifying. But the way he's looking at you now, with so much care and longing, makes it feel right. "Okay," you murmur, your voice barely above a breath.

Franco leans back, giving you some space. He takes a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. "I don't want to rush anything," he says, his voice steady. "But I can't ignore this anymore."

You nod, feeling a mix of excitement and fear. "Neither can I." The words feel like a confession, a secret you've held close for so long finally spilling out into the open.

He smiles, a soft, gentle smile that makes your heart flutter. "Good," he whispers, leaning in to kiss you again. This time, it's slower, more deliberate, as if he's committing every sensation to memory.

The kiss lingers, and when you finally pull away, you're both left breathless. The silence stretches out between you, filled with the unspoken promise of what's to come. You can feel your heart racing, your skin tingling from his touch.

"I should go," Franco says, his voice gruff. He doesn't move, though, his hand still cradling your cheek.

You nod, your heart racing. "Okay," you whisper, feeling a mix of disappointment and relief. You stand up, and he follows, his hand slipping away as you both regain your footing in the new reality of your relationship. The space between you feels charged, the air heavy with unspoken promises and the weight of what's to come.

#franco colapinto #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto imagines #franco colapinto fic #franco colapinto fics #franco colapinto x reader #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 fic #f1 fics #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 imagines #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fics #williams racing

1K notes · View notes

gloomwitchwrites · 2 months ago

Text

Monster (S)mash - Task Force 141 x Female Reader - Porn Star AU

Content & Warnings: Porn Star AU, group sex, oral sex (male & female receiving), unprotected piv, cnc, restraints, anal sex, double penetration, haunted houses, masks, knifeplay, creampie, multiple orgasms, cum swallowing

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: For Kinktober 2024 (Group Sex)

On the set of Monster (S)mash, the monsters come out to play. It's your first themed porn film and it's set in a haunted house. You're eager. Excited. But you've never taken something like this on before. You're filming with four of the greatest names in porn, and you don't want to mess this up.

ao3 // main masterlist // kinktober 2024 masterlist

"Would you like to review the scene? Go over boundaries again?"

Kate Laswell, the Intimacy Coordinator, takes a seat on the opposite couch.

"I'd like a refresh," replies Johnny. "Now that I'm in character." He grins, gesturing at himself, and you almost laugh at how ridiculous he looks.

Johnny MacTavish, known in the industry for his many creampie videos, is dressed as a crazed clown with a red wig and exaggerated makeup. His clothing is nothing more than a black industrial vinyl apron covering up the important bits. Kyle Garrick, a connoisseur of the cam world, sits next to him in a fresh white robe with a Jason Voorhees mask sitting on top of his head, the elastic band digging into his skin behind his ears.

Kyle taps away at his phone. "I should go before you, mate." Kyle glances up and winks at you. "Since I’m up first."

You feel heat rush to your cheeks. Kyle is incredibly handsome—all four of them are—but Kyle has a gentle swagger that flusters you a bit every time he addresses you. The two others, John Price and Simon Riley, are still in the makeup tent transforming into a werewolf and a demon.

While you've been on various porn sets, this one is far more complex than previous films you've been a part of. Monster (S)mash is set in a "haunted house." You'll go room to room, each containing one of the four men before it ends with the five of you partaking in each other. Filming is expected to take all day and possibly into the next.

Kate finds a comfortable spot on the sofa and addresses the two of you. "Your scene takes place in a forest with a cabin. They'll be a fake machete. We're looking at knife play. Some c-n-c. A bit of a chase. What do you think about that?"

Kyle shrugs and then glances at you. "Sounds fun. I'm excited. But it's what you want." He gazes at you expectantly.

You shrug. "What we talked about during our meeting yesterday is good with me."

Kyle nods. "I remember."

"And we know the safe word and the non-verbal signal in case anyone needs to stop?" asks Kate.

"Apple," says Johnny.

"Three fingers with a wrist shake for non-verbal," adds Kyle.

Kate smirks. "And what if someone is restrained and cannot shake their hand?"

"Then three fingers will do," you finish.

She smiles, clearly content with that answer. "Very good." She clasps her hands and then pushes up from the couch. "My assistant and I will be standing off to the side watching and listening for a signal."

Rodolfo, the director’s personal assistant pops his head in. “We’re ready for the first scene.”

Kyle groans as he stands, returning the Jason mask to its proper place. The robe is gone and tossed onto the sofa beside Johnny. Kyle is completely naked underneath it all. You follow him out, robe still on.

"Head that way to mark," Rodolfo says to Kyle and then he gestures at you, beckoning you closer. "Stand here."

You find your mark and then remove your robe, handing it off to Rodolfo who politely keeps his gaze averted. Unlike Kyle who wears nothing, you're in a skimpy black thong that's more string than material.

“Quiet on set!” comes Alejandro Vargas’ voice from the director’s area. He’s standing behind a monitor, watching whatever is coming through on the camera.

There's some minor rustling before all goes silent.

"On three...two...one."

You stand just outside the entrance of the fake haunted house. Taking a deep breath, you count to three. Glancing over your shoulder, you deliberately stare off-camera, and then head inside. The camera moves forward as you walk, focusing in on the makeshift sign.

You will be touched, carried, restrained, played with...

The camera lingers on the sign for a few seconds before following you into the dark.

"Cut!" Alejandro calls out. "Let's hold there. Get her to mark two."

Rodolfo appears, gesturing toward the first "room" of the haunted house.

Each set is separated by curtains. With the lights on, it looks a bit silly, but during filming and post-production editing, no one will know that these scenes weren't filmed in an actual haunted house attraction.

As you step up to your mark, a tingle of excitement swells in your belly. You've always found your job fun and enjoyable, but this is the first themed film you've attempted. While the film crew and intimacy coordinator have solid reputations in the industry, the four men you're working alongside are known for their decency, politeness, and general kindness when working with others. During yesterday's meetings, they were incredibly focused, asking questions, and spent extra time wanting to know and remember your boundaries and limitations.

When you first started out, that was unheard of. You’d show up to set and hope for the best. Discussions about limitations and boundaries were few and far between.

"Going on three...two...one."

You enter the first room.

It's arranged to resemble the front of a cabin in the middle of the woods near a lake. The cabin is just a facade anchored onto a wall while blue lighting creates water-like ripples off the front of the cabin. The path to the "exit" is lined with two folding chairs, a metal picnic table, and a makeshift campfire with fake flame included. Ambient nature sounds play in the background, but it's only loud enough to create an unsettling atmosphere.

Slowly, you step around the two folding chairs and walk past the picnic table, glancing around in feigned nervousness as if danger lurks around every corner. That danger is just Kyle in his Jason mask.

As if summoned by your thoughts, Kyle appears. Standing near the makeshift exit, he is completely naked other than the mask and the machete clenched in his right fist. You freeze, holding up your hands in a placating gesture.

Kyle rolls his shoulders and neck. You hear the audible pop from where you're standing. He saunters forward, turning the machete handle end-over-end in his palm. Though you know the machete is fake, and that Kyle won't harm you, your fight-or-flight response kicks in. It fuses with your excitement and underlying arousal, sending your senses into overdrive. Your vision narrows, focusing on Kyle as he swaggers toward you.

"No," you whisper, backing toward the spot you entered from.

Kyle lunges, and you shriek, turning on your heel to dodge out of the way.

Spreading his arms wide, Kyle blocks your way forward. You step to the left and he matches your movement, the machete blade outstretched. While the two of you discussed this scene with the intimacy coordinator, the chase is entirely improvised. You don't know what Kyle will do or how he'll eventually trap you. The idea is thrilling, warming your body with heightened anticipation.

Stepping around the edge of the picnic table, you aim to dart around him on the right side. Kyle leaps over the fake flames and lands in your path. He swings the machete and you duck. The blade is nothing more than rubber, and his aim is purposefully wide.

As you turn away, Kyle follows, his stride casual and calm. It's infuriatingly sexy how sure of himself he is. And somehow, you're flustered by him, even as you try to make for the exit.

But there is no escape—and it's not like you want to get away from him.

Kyle's muscled arm catches you by the stomach. He hauls you against his chest, even as you wiggle and squirm, lashing out as if that will do anything. His strength is apparent in the way he confidently keeps you close, unafraid that you might accidentally clip his jaw with your knuckles.

The camera moves in as he brings the machete up to your throat, pressing the rubber blade against your jugular.

"Stop moving," he growls, the mask muffling the sound.

You cease your squirming, both hands grasping his forearm. The edge of the mask digs into the side of your face, and his hard cock presses roughly against your back.

"Are you going to be a good girl?" he asks. The low gruffness in his voice sends a bolt of heat straight to your pussy.

You whimper, but say nothing.

Kyle lightly slaps the inside of your upper thigh. "Answer me."

"I'll be good," you gasp, the sting of his strike causing your muscles to clench, ass bucking into his pelvis.

"You'll be what?" This time he squeezes your thigh.

"A good girl."

He makes a pleased sound as the machete falls away and his arm releases you. Grabbing the back of your neck, Kyle uses his grip to turn you around, to force you to look at his face. With the mask, all you can see are his eyes. They're in shadow, but fuck, they're gorgeous.

With a final squeeze, Kyle forces you to your knees. His cock bobs in front of your face. Your lips part, but Kyle keeps a firm grip, allowing nothing. He is in control.

Your gaze is entirely focused on him. You have no idea where the camera is, and there is no point in looking. It's not your concern.

"Wider," he instructs, and you present your mouth to him, tongue out. "That's it."

The head of his cock taps against your tongue and then slides back and forth over its surface, teasing what's to come.

You want it. You want him.

Kyle's hand moves from the back of your neck to the top of your head. He fists your hair there, and then guides your mouth around his cock, forcing you to take every inch of him. The cool rubber of the machete presses against your neck. Your hands rise, anchoring yourself by grasping the front of his bare thighs.

You hold on as he fucks your throat. Keeping your gaze on the mask, you relax your muscles, focusing on not gagging. Kyle is more length than girth, and the head of his cock roughly hits the back of your throat with each stroke.

"That's a good girl," he rasps. "My perfect slut."

The praise is wonderful. Perfect. You hold on to it, humming with contentment around him, the vibrations making him shiver. In your peripheral, you notice the glint of a camera lens but you don't glance over. You focus on Kyle, and how eager you are to get both of you off.

Kyle is rough but not overly slow. He's careful not to go too far. His movements are restrained but controlled, and that only turns you on more. One of your hands slips between your thighs and you find yourself blissfully wet.

You circle your clit and then dive downward to slip one finger, and then two, inside your pussy. Repeating the motions only builds the oncoming orgasm like a viper hidden in a pile of leaves, waiting to strike.

"Are you fucking yourself with your fingers?" Kyle's question isn't meant to be answered. It's rhetorical. He knows you are. He can see it.

With his cock in your mouth, you're unable to answer. One watery tear rolls down your cheek and Kyle lightly taps the machete blade against your throat.

"Not being a good girl. Didn't tell you to do that."

The machete disappears. Using his grip on the top of your head, Kyle guides your mouth off and away with a wet pop. He drags you to your feet, and as you move to run from him, Kyle presses the tip of the machete against your stomach.

"Get on the table," he growls. "Now."

You glance over your shoulder briefly to figure out where it is. The path is clear—just a few steps and you're on it. Kyle prods you with another poke of the machete.

Moving backward, you eventually bump into the edge of the table. Kyle does not help you up but the top is just below hip-level. You get on easily.

"On your back. Legs spread."

The command in his tone is undeniable. You do exactly as Kyle says. The camera is directly behind him, following his forward advance. Kyle wraps his hand around your ankle and tugs, dragging you to the very edge until you're close to falling off.

Without ceremony or elegance, he tears away your thong and tosses it aside. Kyle lines himself up and thrusts.

"Fucking hell," he groans.

You moan loudly, toes curling as your pussy takes all of him. The stretch is just enough to hurt but entirely euphoric.

Kyle slams the machete down onto the table next to you. In seconds, he has one hand over the front of your throat and the other on your inner thigh, keeping you wide as he drives in and out of your body.

This is where he's roughest, and you don't care at all. It's delicious. Glorious. From this angle you can watch every corded muscle shiver as he moves.

And the eye contact.

Kyle won't stop looking at you. His gaze is firm. Heavy. You are trapped by it as much as by his strength. His hand on your inner thigh slides further inward until he's almost on your pelvis. The camera shifts to point directly at where your bodies meet just as Kyle's thumb starts rubbing slow circles around your clit.

The building orgasm shivers outward, stretching into your limbs. A sense of numbness comes with it, as if you're floating above your body. It lingers there at the heightened apex before crashing down around you.

Your body tenses—seizes. Kyle groans, continuing to thrust through it. His thumb keeps stroking, and the intensity continues, wave after wave flooding through your system until you near overstimulation.

Kyle's thrusting increases, a pounding rhythm that signals his coming end.

"Fuck," he groans, hand around your throat tightening slightly.

The fingers on your thigh dig in, and Kyle stills, his sigh a gentle rainfall. You feel your pussy flood with warmth as his release hits him. You see the shudder, watch as his eyelids close behind the mask, and the keen pulse of his veins in his arms.

Kyle thrusts once. Twice. And then with a heavy sigh, grasps the base of his cock, stroking it as he slowly eases out. The camera comes into view, panning inward to catch the sight of his cum. Kyle keeps you still, gaze lingering on you. He's waiting for the camera's retreat.

Just as it backs away, Kyle's grip on you loosens. You're the pretend, helpless victim no longer.

Gripping the machete, you strike out. Kyle avoids your terrible swing, and that gives you your change. Off the table and onto the floor, you rush toward the exit, not looking back though you hear his enraged growl and the swoosh of air as he lunges for you.

You disappear, nearly stumbling into the next room as the director calls for the end of the scene.

"Cut!"

You catch yourself before falling forward, a little breathless. Poking your head out from behind the curtain, the set team comes rushing in, moving objects out.

"Let's set the next scene."

As you step out, Rodolfo and someone from the makeup department rush in. You're offered your robe which you politely decline but accept the water.

"You good, love?" Kyle approaches, removing his mask, gaze expectant and observing.

"Yeah. I'm good," you reply, taking another gulp of water.

His observation isn't one of keen interest but one of concern. He's checking you over. Making sure he didn't harm you.

"I didn't hurt you?"

You're a little sore but it feels good. "No," you answer. "Promise. I'm fine."

He grins, relief clear on his face. "Thought I might have been too much."

You shake your head. "Not at all."

Rodolfo checks his watch. "Ready for the next scene? Or would you like a break?"

You cap the water and hand it to him. "I can handle it."

He nods. "Be ready in five."

After a bathroom break, a brief touch-up, and a gentle cleanse between the thighs, you're herded to the next mark.

"We're going in ten...nine..."

Your robe is removed and water whisked away. The camera is somewhere in the room already, ready for you to step out from behind the curtain.

"...three...two...one."

You emerge, knowing that this might be the scene you need to call a stop to. Not that it'll be Johnny's fault, but the place is absolutely ghastly.

It's set up like a meat processing warehouse. The room is bathed in red light. Fake bodies wrapped up in cloth hang from the ceiling along with a few hooks on chains. There are two "exits" covered in plastic strip curtains. One is a true exit and the other is where Johnny is supposed to emerge from, but you have no idea which.

The camera follows your forward movements as you navigate around the hanging set pieces. Against the wall is a stainless-steel table. On it are bloody body parts all haphazardly stacked on top of each other.

As you make it to the middle of the room, Johnny appears—not that you see him. You don't notice him at all. It isn't until he revs the chainsaw he's holding that you do. It startles you so bad that you stumble backward into a fake body, almost tripping on your own foot.

Johnny charges forward, much faster than Kyle. The hanging bodies, hooks, and chains are in the way. You try to push them aside, to run as you're supposed to, but it hampers your movement.

Johnny catches you quickly.

Cornering you between a trio of hanging bodies, Johnny circles the space, revving the chainsaw as he walks. There is no chain on it, but he doesn't point it at you. He keeps it pointed away from his body and yours.

Transferring the chainsaw to one hand, Johnny snags your upper arm, dragging you against him. You beat at his chest, the vinyl apron slippery when your skin makes contact. Nothing happens. Johnny is solid.

With his grip on your arm, Johnny hauls you toward the body-covered table. He sets the chainsaw down and then both hands are on you. Spinning you around to face him, you attempt to fight him off even as he restrains you, attaching handcuffs to your wrists with ease.

“Let me go!” you shriek, but Johnny only laughs. It’s manic and high—completely deranged. It’s wonderful acting. You’ll give him that.

With a sharp tug on the connecting chain, Johnny sends you stumbling. He steps out of the way, his hand coming down on your ass with a sharp slap. You yelp but manage not to fall. The smirk on his face tells you everything. He’s loving this.

You attempt to strike out at him but Johnny is so much stronger.

Using his massive, muscled arms, Johnny wrestles for control, winning easily. You’re herded to the center of the room. At one of the hooks, Johnny lifts your arms over your head, hooking the connecting chain on the nearest one.

Everything stretches, but it’s not painful. It's a good stretch and just enough to keep you on your feet but appear as if you're hanging in the air. It's a great trick. You're on full display for the camera and for Johnny.

You’re facing away from Johnny, and you have no idea where the camera is. All you’re aware of is your breathing, and the swelling tightness in your muscles as the stretch starts to curl forth a gentle ache.

You’re hanging there. Untouched. Waiting.

There’s a gentle brush against the back of your thigh. You jerk against the touch, tilting your head to catch a glimpse of him. Johnny appears before you like a phantom. He steps into your view slowly. The red light bathes him in a blood-tinged glow.

Johnny grins, grasping your chin in his hand.

“Are you going to remain a good girl for us?” His Scottish lilt is sinful. You find yourself leaning forward as if you’ll kiss him. That grin softens, and then becomes a wicked thing.

Johnny drops to his knees before you.

His hands grab the backs of your upper thighs, lifting you off your feet. He guides your legs over his shoulders, hands adjusting to support your ass. Johnny’s mouth is on your pussy immediately, tongue teasing your entrance. The fake plastic nose he wears perfectly presses against your clit. It rubs back and forth against it as he devours your pussy.

The orgasm comes quickly and with sharp intensity. You scream out your pleasure, head falling back, eyes closed as Johnny continues to feast between your thighs. Your toes curl, the muscles in your lower back seizing and relaxing with each wave.

With a final lick, Johnny tilts his head back, smug with himself.

You’re gasping for air, chest heaving as Johnny returns your feet to solid ground. He ascends, hand undoing the ties that keep his black vinyl apron in place. He circles you as he does it, a teasing dance before it falls away.

Your gaze immediately drops, and fuck—Johnny is thick. There’s a decent amount of length but this man is all girth.

He palms his hard cock, gaze enraptured with the sight of you. Circling you like a predator, Johnny takes his opportunity to run his hands over your body, to touch everything. It’s been he comes to a stop behind you that the anticipation builds.

Johnny’s face presses against your neck as his hands grab hold of your hips. His cock rubs against your ass and then slides between your thighs. He rocks back and forth, coating himself in your wetness. The head of his cock pokes at your sensitive clit.

You whimper, and Johnny gives you relief.

With his grip on your hips, Johnny angles himself at your entrance. A quick thrust, and Johnny is home to the hilt. Your thighs are pressed against each other, and the thickness of Johnny’s cock is only intensified by the limited space.

He remains behind you, pumping steadily as you hang from the hook. Johnny’s hands on your hips delve, squeezing your thighs. He brings one palm down in a quick slap against it, your thigh jiggling from the strike.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he whispers into your ear, and you know that’s only for you to hear.

While Kyle was a bit rough with you, but Johnny is steady, his rhythm hitting all the right beats until you’re numb with lust. You fall into it, heading leaning back against his as Johnny as his way with you.

At his end, Johnny’s groan morphs into a whimper. He comes inside you, his grip tight as he holds you flush against him. A few more thrusts and then Johnny is pulling you, forcing your thighs apart to show the camera the mess there.

You expect a pause as the camera lingers there. What you don’t expect is for Johnny to put his mouth back to your pussy, to suck his cum out of it, to stand and force your head back, slipping his fingers between your lips only to spit his cum down your throat.

He grins at you, licks his lips.

This dirty fucker.

Your thumb finds the small button on the cuffs. Like everything else, it’s a prop. You press the button. The chain breaks as it’s supposed to. The moment your feet are flat, you take off, rushing toward the exit.

You hear pounding footsteps and then—

“Cut!”

Johnny almost knocks you down on the way out. “Shit,” he gasps, grabbing on to you before you topple forward.

“Take ten!”

A robe is thrust at you, and Johnny is pulled away as someone else shoves another water into your face and someone else fusses with your hair and makeup.

It’s the maze that’s next. This one is completely staged compared to the other scenes. At a certain point, you, Johnny, and Kyle will converge on a singular point. Johnny on one side of you. Kyle on the other.

When you’re set, you enter into the makeshift maze. You don’t need to go far. Just a few feet. Johnny is right behind you, every step heavy and loud as he navigates the maze. Only a couple striders further and you’re trapped.

Kyle steps out of the dark and you come to a halt. But as you retreat, Johnny is right there, blocking your exit. Their hands are on you immediately. You have no control. You give in to them, allowing them everything. It’s nice to surrender, to hand control off to someone else.

They move you into position. Johnny’s cock slides home, filling your pussy. Kyle takes the other side, and then you’re full in both holes, groaning loudly with each thrust. Your hands seek, fingers digging into whatever they can find.

Over your shoulder, Kyle pushes up his mask enough to reveal his lips. You go in, tasting Kyle’s sweetness. His hand grasps the front of your throat, dragging you in for a deeper kiss.

Johnny isn’t one to be left out.

As Kyle breaks away from the kiss, Johnny reaches for him, the two men locking lips next to your face as they both move in and out of your body. You drape your arm over the back of your Johnny’s neck, and all you know is the perfect way they fill you, and the feel of their lips against your skin.

And when it’s over, you’re a little disappointed that it couldn’t continue.

There’s another break—this one longer than the others. Kate’s assistant massages your muscles, and she checks in before the graveyard scene with John Price. You’ll truly need some rest before the final scene with Simon Riley and the rest of the men, but you can do one more.

But only one.

And it’s the easiest of the bunch.

There is no chasing. No running.

You play the helpless damsel, pushing at John’s chest as if you don’t want it. All around you is smoke and shadow. The headstones around the two of you create a little circle, almost as if you’re in the center of a ritual.

You’re put on your hands and knees on the ground, the fog from the fog machine swallowing up your hands and legs. Price is behind you, already pumping, already taking from you like the wolf he’s supposed to be.

The makeup department did wonders. They gave him sharp teeth, yellow contacts, and a partially transformed look to him. It’s brilliant, really. He looks very much the monster.

Each stroke is deep. John presses on your lower back, forcing you into a different position, pushing your ass higher into the air. Your legs widen and then John increases his pace, his pelvis smacking loudly against yours. Skin meets skin, and your pussy quivers with excitement as the orgasm builds.

You stroke yourself between your legs, leaning on one side to keep yourself upright enough not to slip. You’re slippery between your thighs, and you can’t help but trace where your bodies meet. Your nail grazes John’s cock, and he emits a low moan.

John grips your ass harder, and then he’s pounding into you, using your body like it belongs to him. You lightly bite your lip, trying to focus on your building orgasm. Each stroke comes with a spank, jerking you against your teasing fingers.

“Oh—fuck,” you mewl as your orgasm comes raging forward, curling outward.

John fucks you through it, growling like a fucking animal behind you. When your orgasm wanes, his hand grasps the back of your throat, holding you in place as he continues. All you have to do is sink into it, to grin with contentment and let him have what he wants.

There’s something primal to the way he holds you down and fucks you. It’s different from the way Kyle kept you in place or the way Johnny fucked you. Even in their roughness they were sweet. John is all business, and you’re perfectly fine with that.

His cock is fucking perfect, his dominating demeanor a soothingly sensual experience. There’s something to be said about giving in—to submitting.

But it’s after the extended break that completely alters your brain chemistry.

Simon is the last. The very last.

There is no chase. No true lead up.

This room is set in hell. There are fake flames, reddish-orange backlighting, and a throne. Simons sits on that throne, lounging casually, legs wide, his cock and heavy balls on full display. He’s dressed like the devil, but there are no plastic horns or dollar store red cape. He is perfectly painted in red and black. From his head are twisting black horns that curl up and back. They’ve given him red contacts and fake canines for a vampiric bite.

You are in his thrall, sitting at the base of his throne when the camera turns on. There is a leather collar around your neck connected to a silver chain that Simon holds in his fist. He lightly tugs on it, urging you forward.

Your hand wraps around his cock, stroking slowly, coaxing him toward hardness. You tease the head with a swirl of your tongue before taking him into your mouth. Simon fists the chain, twisting another link around his fist. Every time you take him deeper, Simon shortens the chain further and further.

At first, there is no tightness. It grows shorter. Shorter still. The leather begins to bite into your skin. With each twist of Simon’s wrist, the leash shortens. It draws you closer to Simon, leaving no room for you to retreat—to get air.

Your nostrils flare as you breathe through your nose. Relaxing your throat, you suck him down, cupping his testicles gently in tandem with your movements. The only sound he makes is a grunt and you have no idea if that’s good or bad.

But his cock is hard. Solid. You can’t take all of him or you’ll fucking choke on it.

He tugs sharply on the leash. "In my lap, pet."

You do as Simon instructs, standing between his legs before turning around toward the camera. You sink down into his lap, and Simon leans back, gently guiding you to straddle his lap, legs wide and draped over his thick thighs. He rubs his cock against your pussy, and then you’re sinking down on him.

John arrives from the dark, still in costume. He prowls forward, coming up to the left side of the throne. He grabs your wrist as he comes to a stop, guiding it to his cock. You fist John just as Simon thrusts upward.

Kyle arrives soon after. He kneels in front of you and Simon, teasing your clit with his fingers. It starts as a gentle stroke before his tongue replaces them, swirling little circles against your clit. Simon thrusts upward again, and your pussy clenches.

Just before your orgasm crests, Kyle’s tongue descends, stroking against the space where Simon’s cock intrudes. He descends further, lightly sucking one of Simon’s balls into his mouth. It’s brief. Just a blip. And then his tongue is back on your clit.

Your orgasm comes raging forward, but just as your mouth opens to cry out, Johnny appears, grabbing the back of your head, filling your mouth with his cock.

Your body is theirs to use.

Theirs to enjoy.

Simon thrusts upward, and Kyle draws back, his lips glossy with your arousal. He puts the mask back into place, and Simon lifts you off his cock. You’re picked up. Turned around. You sink back down on Simon’s cock, and Kyle is right there, adding his cock to your pussy. It’s an incredibly tight fit. They rock their hips gentle as John and Johnny touch your body, guiding your hand and mouth back to them.

One of them comes inside you—but you have no idea who before you’re full of just one cock. There are two sets of hands on your ass, bouncing you on whoever’s cock is filling you up. You’re simply clinging on, fingers digging into Simon’s shoulders. His head dips, the horns brushing against your cheek as his tongue circles a nipple.

John grabs the bottom half of your face. “Open,” he instructs and you do so, eagerly sticking out your tongue. John jerks himself until his cum explodes on your tongue. He tips your head to the side and Johnny follow suit.

“Swallow,” growls John and you do exactly that.

Someone groans, and whoever is inside you comes. You’re lifted off Simon’s lap, brought to standing, and then promptly bent over the arm of the throne. Simon’s cock returns to your mouth, and someone settles behind you, spreading your legs before sliding inside.

Every time someone comes in your pussy, you’re moved. Switched. Bent over. Spread wide. Forced onto your knees. You take it all. Enjoying every orgasm. Enjoying every touch.

As your energy fades, it is Simon that takes the final fuck, who brings you into his lap. His hands are firm on your ass, bouncing you up and down his shaft as the camera zooms in on it. You are lost in him—lost in the bliss that pulses throughout your body.

You are perfectly fucked.

Perfectly content.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@marispunk @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @spookyscaryspoon

@ash-tarte @waves-against-a-cliff @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

699 notes · View notes

faebled-stories · 1 month ago

Text

Perfect Pitch

Kinkvember Day 28: Size Difference.

LOONA/Loossemble Im Yeojin x Male reader

13.6k words

AN: I did my best to get this out in time for you all! Finals are next week, and I’ve been stressing and studying like crazy😅. Hope you guys enjoy. 💖

PS: 2 More fics left.

Sunlight filters through the blinds in your kitchen, painting soft, golden streaks across the walls and counters. The warm light blends with the muted grays and creamy tones of the decor, giving the space a comforting glow. The air carries the rich aroma of pancakes sizzling on the stove, their edges crisping just right as the batter bubbles and pops. Outside, sparrows chirp in the distance, their song weaving into the quiet hum of morning.

In the doorway, Yeojin appears, shuffling in with a sleepy grace. She’s draped in one of your oversized shirts, the fabric hanging loosely around her, brushing her knees. The sleeves are far too long, barely revealing her fingertips as she rubs at her eyes. Her hair is an artful mess, strands falling into her face in a way that somehow makes her look effortlessly adorable. A soft yawn escapes her lips as her gaze sweeps over the scene, and when her eyes meet yours, a small, sleepy smile tugs at her mouth.

“Morning, slugger,” she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep as she pads toward the kitchen island.

You chuckle softly, flipping a pancake with practiced ease. “Morning, princess. Finally decided to join the land of the living?”

She groans, sliding onto a stool and propping her chin in her hand. “Barely. What time is it?”

“Early,” you reply, your tone teasing. “But I figured you’d want breakfast before I head out.”

Her gaze drifts toward the stove, watching the pancake batter sizzle as you pour another ladleful onto the skillet. “Smells amazing,” she says, her lips curving into a lazy grin. “You’re spoiling me.”

“Just doing my duty,” you reply smoothly, sliding a golden pancake onto the growing stack. You glance over your shoulder at her, catching the way she’s watching you—not just the pancakes, but you, with that fond, unguarded look that always catches you off guard.

Yeojin props herself up straighter, reaching for the syrup bottle. “You know,” she says, tilting the bottle with exaggerated precision, “you might be the only reason I eat breakfast at all.”

“Wow, no pressure,” you joke, setting the plate in front of her. “Guess that makes me essential.”

“Obviously,” she replies, rolling her eyes as she picks up her fork. She takes a bite, her eyes fluttering closed as she lets out a pleased hum. “Okay, yeah. Definitely spoiled.”

You smirk, leaning against the counter with your own plate. “It’s part of the package, princess. Breakfast, charm, the occasional rescue from top shelves. What more could you ask for?”

She shoots you a mock glare, though her grin betrays her. “First of all, I could totally reach the top shelf if I tried.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sure. With a stepladder.”

Laughing, she tosses a piece of pancake at you, which you dodge easily. “You’re the worst,” she mutters, though her giggles linger as she takes another bite. “And I don’t need you to remind me.”

“Just keeping you humble,” you tease, grabbing a bite of your own. The room falls into a comfortable quiet, the soft clink of silverware filling the space as you both eat.

After a moment, she glances up at you, resting her chin in her hand again. “You know,” she says softly, “you’re kind of unfair.”

You pause mid-bite, raising an eyebrow. “Unfair? How?”

She gestures at you vaguely with her fork. “This. All of it. Making pancakes, being charming, looking like that in the morning light—”

You laugh, setting your fork down. “Looking like what?”

“You know what I mean,” she mutters, cheeks flushing slightly. “It’s distracting.”

“Distracting?” you echo, leaning closer across the counter. “Is that a compliment?”

“Don’t push it,” she says quickly, though the blush spreading across her cheeks gives her away.

Grinning, you lean even closer, resting your elbows on the counter. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

Her eyes widen, and she grabs a napkin to hide her face. “Shut up,” she mumbles, though the laughter in her voice is unmistakable.

You chuckle, reaching across to gently tug the napkin away. “Hey, I’m just being honest.”

She narrows her eyes at you, but the corners of her mouth twitch upward. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” you reply easily, standing straight again. You glance at the clock, sighing as you grab your cap from the counter. “Alright, I’ve got to head to practice. Can’t keep the team waiting.”

Yeojin’s expression shifts slightly, a mix of playful and reluctant. “You’re leaving already?”

“Unfortunately,” you say, slipping the cap on. “Coach might actually kill me if I’m late again.”

Before you can make it to the door, though, Yeojin hops off her stool and darts toward you, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind. “Not so fast,” she says, her voice muffled against your back. “You’re not leaving without a proper goodbye.”

Laughing, you stop mid-step and turn, gently prying her arms loose. Before she can retreat, you scoop her up effortlessly, your hands finding their place beneath her thighs as her legs wrap snugly around your waist. She lets out a surprised laugh, her arms instinctively looping around your neck as you hold her close.

“Better?” you ask, tilting your head slightly, the corners of your mouth lifting into a teasing smile.

She pretends to think about it, her gaze narrowing playfully. “Hmm, almost,” she says, her lips quirking up as she leans in to rest her forehead against yours.

“Almost?” you echo, raising an eyebrow. Without waiting for her reply, you shift slightly and press a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. Her laughter fades as she melts into the kiss, her arms tightening around your neck as her fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt. When you finally pull back, your nose brushing hers, you murmur, “How about now?”

Her cheeks flush, and for a moment, she looks speechless. Then she tilts her head, her grin mischievous. “Nope. Not even close,” she says, though the laughter bubbling in her voice gives her away.

“Not even close?” you repeat, feigning disbelief. “I’m starting to think you’re just making excuses.”

“I might be,” she replies, her smile widening. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Instead of answering, you plant a series of quick, playful kisses across her cheeks, forehead, and the tip of her nose. She squeals between giggles, her fingers tightening their grip around your neck as she tries, and fails, to stifle her laughter.

“Okay, okay!” she gasps through her laughter, burying her face into your shoulder. “That’s enough—wait, no, one more.”

You chuckle, tipping her chin up with your thumb. This kiss is slower, deeper, a silent promise in the way your lips linger against hers. When you pull back, her eyes flutter open, her gaze soft and slightly hazy.

“There,” you murmur, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Now are you happy?”

Her voice is quieter this time, but no less teasing. “I don’t know. You might have to remind me again later.”

Laughing, you bounce her slightly in your arms. “You’re something else.”

“And you love it,” she counters, the confidence in her voice making you grin. Then, her expression softens, and she adds, “And I love you.”

The words settle between you, warm and familiar, but they still catch you off guard in the best way. Smiling, you press your forehead to hers. “I love you too.”

For a moment, neither of you moves, the quiet intimacy grounding you in the golden glow of the kitchen. Then, as if sensing the world creeping back in, she gives you a light shove. “Okay, you can go now. But don’t you forget—”

“Let me guess,” you interrupt, smirking as you finally set her down. “Good luck charm?”

“Exactly,” she says, grinning up at you as her feet touch the ground. “You’d be lost without me.”

“Lost, huh?” you tease, brushing another quick kiss against her temple. “Guess that means I’ll have to keep you close.”

She rolls her eyes, but the blush on her cheeks gives her away. “Get out of here before I change my mind about letting you go.”

As you grab your cap and head for the door, her voice stops you in your tracks. “Hey,” she calls out, a playful lilt in her tone, “don’t forget to come back in one piece… because, you know, I sort of love you.”

You pause in the doorway, turning back to meet her gaze. A soft smile spreads across your face, your eyes warm with affection. “I love you too,” you reply, your voice steady and full of meaning.

Her laughter follows you as you step outside, the sound lingering like the warmth of her touch and the memory of her kiss—a quiet reminder of everything waiting for you when you return.

-----

The way back to her dorm isn’t a quick one, she slips through the gates and into the stillness of the early morning. Her steps are light against the cool floor of the dim hallway, grateful for the quiet that greets her. Tugging at the hem of your shirt, she catches the faintest trace of you on the fabric: a warm blend of syrup, a hint of your cologne, and something uniquely yours. Your scent wraps around her like a whispered promise, bringing a secret smile to her lips, a reminder of your late-night talks, quiet laughter, and the comfortable silences that make her feel close to you, even when miles apart.

As she opens her door and takes a couple of quiet steps, her sneaky return comes to a sudden halt. Hyeju appears, leaning casually against the wall with her arms crossed, already wearing a smirk that tugs at one corner of her mouth. She raises an eyebrow, her eyes flickering from Yeojin’s face to the oversized shirt she’s wearing. “Well, well, well,” Hyeju drawls, her tone dripping with mockery. “Look who decided to come home.”

Yeojin freezes, her cheeks flushing instantly as warmth creeps up her face. It’s as though she’s been caught mid-crime—which, in a way, she has. Swallowing her nerves, she forces a breezy smile, willing herself to sound casual. “Good morning, Hyeju!” she chirps, her voice unnaturally bright. “You’re up early.”

Hyeju tilts her head, unimpressed. “You mean unlike someone who’s been out all night?” She counters smoothly. Her gaze flicks pointedly to the shirt Yeojin’s clutching at the hem of, and her smirk widens. “So… you wanna explain why you didn’t come back last night? Or should I just take a wild guess?”

Yeojin’s mind scrambles, her blush deepening as she struggles to come up with something halfway believable. “Oh! Uh… I… stayed at the dorm studio!” she blurts out, her voice pitching higher than she intended. “Yeah, you know how I get when I’m in the zone. Lost track of time and figured it was too late to come back.”

“Hmm,” Hyeju says, narrowing her eyes as she steps closer. “The studio, huh? That’s funny, because I don’t remember you taking anything with you to work on.” Her voice drips with mock innocence, but the amused sparkle in her eye gives her away.

Yeojin tugs nervously at the hem of your shirt, glancing down at it like it might provide some magical escape route. “Well, I wasn’t planning to stay all night,” she stammers, trying to salvage her excuse. “But… inspiration hit, you know? And then I, uh, borrowed this to… stay warm.”

“Stay warm,” Hyeju repeats, her lips twitching as though she’s fighting the urge to laugh. “You’re telling me that’s the shirt you grabbed to stay warm?” She gestures at the oversized fabric drowning Yeojin’s frame, clearly unconvinced. “Smells a little… off for studio work, don’t you think? Almost like syrup or… cologne.”

Caught, Yeojin groans softly, her hands flying up in surrender. “Okay, fine! I was out!” she confesses, her words rushing out as she glares half-heartedly at Hyeju. “Are you happy now?”

Hyeju finally lets out a laugh, shaking her head. “Relax, I’m not your manager,” she says with exaggerated patience. “But seriously, you might want to work on your excuses. ‘I was at the studio all night’ isn’t gonna fly if someone else asks.”

Yeojin sighs, her shoulders slumping as she nods sheepishly. “I know. I’ll be more careful.”

“Good,” Hyeju replies, stepping back to let Yeojin pass. “Just don’t make it a habit, alright? We wouldn’t want the others—or worse, the manager—getting suspicious.”

Yeojin mumbles a quick thanks before slipping into her room, shutting the door quietly behind her. Leaning against it, she lets out a long, breathy sigh, her heart still racing. Her cheeks tingle from the embarrassment of being caught, but there’s a thrill too—a tiny, giddy spark knowing she’d stolen away one last moment with you.

Glancing down at your shirt, she brushes her fingers over the fabric, her smile softening as a secret warmth blooms in her chest. Whatever it took to keep moments like this, she decided, would be worth it.

Later that day, the rehearsal studio buzzes with energy, each corner filled with chatter and laughter as the group warms up. Excitement simmers just below the surface, each member brimming with a mix of focus and joy, until the manager enters, his presence commanding the room’s attention. He claps his hands, breaking into a grin that instantly shifts the room’s energy.

“Ladies, I’ve got news,” he announces, his voice ringing out. “We’ve been invited to perform on opening night for the Kiwoom Heroes… in just four days!” He pauses, his enthusiasm lighting up the room as he continues, “It’s a big opportunity. Let’s make sure we’re in top form!”

The announcement sparks a ripple of excitement among the girls, a mix of gasps and whispered cheers filling the studio as everyone glances at each other in excitement. But for Yeojin, the reaction is different—her heart skips a beat as a surge of nerves and excitement washes over her. Performing on such a big night would be thrilling on its own, but knowing it’s your game, the same field where you’ll be standing, makes it feel that much more special. She tries to keep her expression calm, but inside, her thoughts swirl with anticipation at the chance to perform, knowing you’ll be there to watch.

Beside her, Gowon notices her excitement and nudges her with a sly smile. “Why do you look like you just won the lottery?” she whispers, her eyes dancing with curiosity.

Yeojin forces a casual shrug, desperately trying to keep her tone breezy. “I just… really like baseball,” she replies, hoping she sounds more relaxed than she feels. But her voice betrays a hint of giddiness that she can’t quite mask.

Hyeju stifles a laugh, her gaze twinkling with amusement. “Uh-huh. You like baseball, sure,” she echoes, filling the words with teasing sarcasm.

A blush creeps back into Yeojin’s cheeks as she fiddles with her hair, smiling despite herself at her friends’ knowing looks. Their playful laughter only adds to the thrill of the moment, grounding her in the comfort of their shared camaraderie.

As the rehearsal begins, Yeojin slips into a quiet daydream, her mind drifting toward the image of the stadium on opening night. She pictures the floodlights, the crowd buzzing with excitement, the electric energy pulsing through the field. She imagines catching sight of you in the stands, your familiar smile lighting up as you recognize her among the dancers. Each move she rehearses feels charged with a secret purpose, a quiet hope that you’ll see her there, knowing that her performance is, in some small way, meant for you.

-----

Back at your place, the scent of takeout fills the air as you and Yeojin unpack the bags at the kitchen counter. The crinkle of paper bags and the soft clink of utensils blend with the quiet hum of the room, creating a cozy atmosphere. Yeojin, perched on one of the stools, peers into one of the containers with curiosity, a faint smile playing on her lips.

“You didn’t forget my favorite, right?” she asks, her tone playful as she sets her chopsticks in place.

“I wouldn’t dare,” you reply with a grin, handing her a container. “See? I’ve got you covered.”

Her face lights up as she pops it open, the familiar aroma making her sigh happily. “You’re the best,” she says, taking a bite and humming in satisfaction. “Mm, this is perfect.”

You settle into the stool next to her, digging into your own food. The easy rhythm of eating together fills the space, the kind of quiet intimacy that makes even simple moments like this feel special.

After a few bites, Yeojin glances over at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So,” she begins, her voice playful, “I heard you got the whole story about my water bottle fiasco.”

You smirk, glancing sideways at her. “Oh, I did. Something about turning it into a dramatic fall? Ten out of ten for creativity, by the way.”

She groans, hiding her face in her hands. “Ugh, it was so embarrassing. The girls have been teasing me non-stop.”

You laugh, nudging her lightly with your elbow. “Come on, you’re graceful enough to pull it off.”

“Oh, absolutely,” she replies, lowering her hands and giving you an exaggerated shrug. “I was the picture of elegance. Definitely not face-planting in front of everyone.”

“Right, right,” you tease, taking another bite. “Maybe you should add it to your choreography. Could be the next big thing.”

She tosses a crumpled napkin at you, her laughter spilling out despite herself. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, here you are,” you retort, grinning as you dodge the napkin.

The playful banter continues as you finish your food, Yeojin leaning closer with each laugh, her joy infectious. Once the containers are cleared and the counter is wiped down, she hops off her stool and stretches, a satisfied sigh escaping her lips.

After dinner, the two of you settle onto the couch, a cozy silence enveloping the room. Yeojin tucks her legs under her, leaning lightly against your side as she holds the tub of ice cream in one hand and a spoon in the other. The faint glow of the lamp casts a warm light over the room, reflecting softly off her flushed cheeks.

You nudge her playfully with your elbow, your own spoon in hand. “You’re hogging it,” you tease, nodding toward the ice cream.

“Excuse me?” she says, feigning offense as she takes an exaggerated bite. “I’m pretty sure I earned this for being adorable during dinner.”

You laugh, leaning closer to swipe a small spoonful from the tub before she can protest. “Adorable, huh? I guess I’ll allow it.”

Her giggle is soft as she settles back into your side, the easy rhythm of sharing the ice cream between you making the moment feel effortlessly intimate. She hums contentedly, her head resting lightly on your shoulder as she savors another bite.

After a moment, she shifts slightly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “So,” she begins, her tone playful, “we’re performing at the opening of your game next week.”

Your eyebrows lift in surprise, and you glance down at her. “Wait, seriously? That’s amazing!” A genuine grin spreads across your face. “I’ll finally get to see you perform live?”

“Yep,” she says, nodding eagerly. “Right there on the field before the game starts. No pressure for you or anything.”

“None at all,” you reply with a chuckle. “Just a stadium full of people, bright lights, and a surprise performance from my girlfriend. Totally low-key.”

She rolls her eyes, lightly swatting your arm. “Anyway,” she says, her voice dropping into a mischievous tone, “I was thinking… maybe I could wear one of your jerseys during the performance.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. “One of my jerseys? Don’t you guys usually have custom outfits for this kind of thing?”

She shrugs, taking another bite of ice cream before replying. “Custom outfits are boring. Your jersey would look way cooler.”

You laugh, watching as she fidgets with the hem of her shirt, her wide eyes glancing up at you in mock pleading. “Come on,” she says, drawing the word out. “Isn’t it a rule for girlfriends to wear their boyfriends’ jerseys? I’m pretty sure it’s, like, a law or something.”

“Oh, it’s a law now?” you tease, grinning as you take another bite. “What chapter is that in your imaginary handbook?”

“Chapter one,” she says with mock seriousness, nodding sagely. “Rule one. ‘Thou shalt support thy boyfriend by wearing his jersey.’ It’s common knowledge.”

You shake your head, amused. “And what chapter says, ‘Thou shalt not get thy boyfriend in trouble with the entire stadium’?”

She groans dramatically, flopping back against the couch as she tosses the spoon into the empty tub. “Come on! Please? It would look so good! And if anyone asks, I’ll just say you’re my favorite player.”

You can’t help but laugh, her enthusiasm impossible to resist. “Fine, fine,” you say, setting the empty tub aside and standing. “But if this backfires, it’s all on you.”

She perks up immediately, her smile wide and victorious as you disappear into your room. When you return, you hold out an older jersey, the fabric soft and a little worn. “Here,” you say, handing it to her. “It’s from my rookie year. It’s not fancy, but it’s got some history.”

Her eyes light up as she takes it, her fingers brushing over the fabric. “Rookie year?” she murmurs, slipping it on. The oversized jersey swallows her petite frame, the sleeves hanging far past her hands and the hem brushing her thighs. She stands and gives you a playful twirl. “How do I look?”

“Like someone who’s about to start rumors,” you tease, stepping closer to adjust the hem slightly. “But also… absolutely adorable.”

Her grin widens, her hands fiddling with the oversized sleeves. “See? I told you it was a good idea.”

Then, as if struck by inspiration, she looks up at you with a glint in her eye. “Wait! You know what would make this even better?”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “What now?”

“Sign it,” she says, her voice bubbling with excitement as she tugs the fabric taut against her chest. Her hand rests lightly over her heart. “Right here. My friends will be so jealous.”

You shake your head in amused disbelief, grabbing a marker from the drawer. “Alright, but if you get in trouble, don’t come crying to me.” You step closer, steadying the fabric where her hand holds it over her heart.

She watches you intently, her smile softening as you lean in. The tip of the marker touches the fabric just above the number, and your name flows neatly, each letter deliberate. Your fingers brush against hers as you finish, the moment quiet but full of meaning.

When you pull back, she gazes down at the jersey, her fingers tracing the letters. A faint blush rises to her cheeks as her lips curve into a tender smile. “Now it’s perfect,” she whispers, looking up at you, her eyes glowing with happiness.

You smile, your hand resting lightly over the spot you just signed. “You’re impossible,” you murmur.

“And you love it,” she replies, her voice playful but filled with affection.

“Yeah,” you admit softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I really do.” You lean in to press a gentle kiss to her temple, the warmth of the moment settling around you both like a blanket.

------

The dressing room buzzes with excitement as Loossemble prepares for the event. Makeup brushes glide across faces, chatter fills the air, and their manager hands out jerseys. “These are for today’s event,” he announces, placing the neatly folded jerseys on the table.

As the girls eagerly grab theirs, Yeojin lingers by her bag, her hand already slipping inside. When the manager notices, he raises an eyebrow. “Yeojin, where’s your jersey?”

She pulls out the jersey you gave her, its fabric worn but comforting, and slips it on over her outfit. “I’ve got my own,” she says casually, smoothing it down.

The room quiets briefly as everyone notices the bold signature scrawled across the chest. Hyeju squints at it, her tone incredulous. “Wait... is that an actual jersey? Like the ones they wear on the field?”

Yeojin shrugs nonchalantly, adjusting the oversized sleeves. “It’s better than the custom ones,” she says simply, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Hyunjin’s jaw drops. “And it’s signed! Where the heck did you even get that?”

Yeojin gives a knowing smile, her voice calm but playful. “I know someone.”

The room erupts into laughter and teasing. Gowon shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re seriously wearing that? People are going to notice, you know.”

Yeojin smirks, smoothing the fabric with a deliberate motion. “Good. Let them.”

The manager sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just don’t make my life harder, alright?” he mutters, waving them toward the door.

At the stadium, the energy is electric. Fans in team colors flood the concourse, their excited chatter blending with the hum of announcements and the faint thrum of music. The smell of popcorn, grilled food, and sweet treats wafts through the air, adding to the festive atmosphere.

As Loossemble weaves through the bustling crowd, Yeojin suddenly stops in her tracks. Her gaze is drawn to a massive display near the merch shop, and for a moment, she forgets everything else. Your face dominates the wall, frozen mid-pitch, your arm extended in a perfect arc. The intensity and focus in your expression make the image feel almost alive, radiating the determination that’s become synonymous with you.

Around the display, racks of merchandise stretch in every direction—jerseys, caps, posters, and even bobbleheads bearing your name and number. Fans gather eagerly, their voices rising in an excited hum as they sort through the shelves. Yeojin catches fragments of their chatter: your incredible game-winning plays, your record-breaking stats, the way you’ve become the cornerstone of the team’s success. Each word feels like a glowing tribute to you, a celebration of everything you’ve achieved.

Her chest tightens, a surge of pride swelling within her as her fingers brush over the jersey she wears. The fabric is soft and worn, a personal gift that feels more precious now than ever. Her gaze drops briefly to the bold signature resting over her heart, and the simple gesture of your autograph feels profoundly intimate—a reminder of the part of you that belongs only to her.

She’s always known you were talented, but this moment reframes everything. Seeing the sheer scale of admiration for you, the fans clamoring for a piece of the legend you’ve become, is overwhelming. It takes her breath away. The magnitude of what you’ve accomplished hits her fully—how much you’ve given, how hard you’ve worked, and how many people you inspire.

And yet, through all of it, you’ve never stopped making her feel like she’s the center of your world. Whether it’s through the quiet warmth of your smile, a shared joke that only you two understand, or the way your hand naturally finds hers in a crowd, she knows she’s your constant.

Her fingers linger on the jersey’s fabric as she takes it all in. The massive display with your image mid-pitch, larger than life, radiates the determination and intensity that define you. Her heart swells with something deeper than pride—an awe at the balance you manage. With so much of the world demanding a piece of you, you’ve never let her feel less than cherished.

“Wow,” she whispers to herself, her voice barely audible over the chatter around her. Her lips curve into a soft smile as she glances back at the display. There’s no envy in her chest, no insecurity—only gratitude. Gratitude for being the person who gets to witness the side of you that no one else does. She’s the one who sees you at your most vulnerable, your most relaxed, and your most real, and in this moment, that feels like the greatest gift of all.

Now, near the front of the field, they wait for their cue, the girls chatting excitedly about the size of the stadium and the energy of the fans. Yeojin adjusts the hem of your jersey, trying to keep calm despite her racing heart.

But her focus wavers when she catches sight of you warming up nearby with your team. You’re effortlessly precise as you go through your routine, each movement fluid and confident. She can’t help the small smile that tugs at her lips as she watches you work—it’s captivating, even from a distance.

Her smile falters, though, when she notices a group of cheerleaders standing just a little too close for comfort. One of them giggles loudly, her gaze fixed on you as she leans in to whisper to her friend. Another brushes her hair back dramatically, giving you a wave that’s anything but subtle. Yeojin’s chest tightens, the pang of jealousy catching her off guard. She knows she has no reason to feel this way, but seeing the way they look at you—the admiration tinged with something more—makes her jaw tighten.

She shifts her weight, crossing her arms as she tries to push the feeling aside. He’s yours, she reminds herself, the memory of your signature on her jersey grounding her. The thought brings a small, determined smile back to her face. Let them look. I’m the one who gets to go home with him.

“Yeojin, what’s got you so serious all of a sudden?” Hyeju teases, nudging her shoulder with a smirk.

Startled, Yeojin shakes her head quickly, forcing a bright smile. “Huh? Just, uh… getting into the zone,” she replies, though her voice carries a hint of flustered nervousness.

Hyeju raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press further, her attention shifting as their manager calls them toward the field.

The stadium’s energy pulses underfoot as the intro notes of their song begins. Thousands of fans pack the stands, their cheers rising in a wave that reverberates through the air. Yeojin takes a deep breath, letting the rhythm of the music settle her nerves. As she steps onto the field with her group mates, the floodlights wash over them, illuminating the entire stadium.

Her eyes instinctively search for you, when she spots you near the dugout, her heart swells. Even from a distance, the pride in your smile is unmistakable, and the way you’re watching her fills her with warmth. It’s a sight that lights something fierce in her chest, a reminder of why she’s here—not just to perform, but to share this moment with you.

Each beat of the choreography feels stronger, every step infused with purpose. The girl’s move in perfect synchronization, their sharp poses and fluid transitions blending seamlessly with the music. Yeojin pours herself into the performance, her smile radiant as she twirls across the field. She can feel the joy of the moment in her bones, every movement carrying a silent message: I’m here, and this is for you.

In the dugout, your teammates notice the way you’re glued to watching her performance. One of them nudges you with a laugh. “Look at you, totally lovestruck,” he teases, jerking his thumb toward the jumbotron. “Come on, Romeo, close your mouth before a fly gets in.”

A flush rises to your cheeks as they rib you mercilessly, but you don’t look away. You can’t. Yeojin’s every move captivates you, as if you’re seeing her dance for the first time. Despite the teasing, all you feel is pride—she’s radiant, every bit the star you know her to be.

Meanwhile, Yeojin catches sight of you on the jumbotron, your flustered expression displayed for all to see. She bites back a laugh, her heart soaring at the exact reaction she’d hoped for. It’s a private moment made public, and the thrill of it fills her with pride. She flicks her gaze toward the screen whenever she can, smiling wider each time she sees you still watching her, your admiration written all over your face.

As the performance builds to its final chorus, Yeojin locks eyes with you for a brief moment. She winks, the gesture small but unmistakable, before finishing the dance with her group, arms raised as the last note rings out.

The stadium erupts into applause, the cheers washing over her like a wave. As Loossemble catches their breath, Yeojin’s heart swells. She can still feel the way her gaze connected with yours, the bond between you two threading itself into every step she took, every smile she shared with the crowd.

When the performance ends, Loossemble exits the field, their faces glowing with post-performance adrenaline. The group gathers near their seats, collapsing into laughter and excited chatter as they relive their favorite moments. Yeojin adjusts the hem of your jersey again, the warmth of your signature over her heart grounding her as the thrill of performing in front of you still buzzes in her chest.

But her friends don’t let her stay quiet for long.

“Yeojin,” Gowon begins, leaning in with a sly grin, her eyes glinting with curiosity, “did you see it?”

“See what?” Yeojin asks innocently, though the flutter in her chest betrays her calm tone.

“That pitcher,” Gowon replies, gesturing towards your area. “You know, the one whose face was glued to you.”

Yeojin freezes, trying to play it cool. “Oh, really?” she replies, her voice just a little too breezy. “I didn’t notice.”

Hyeju snorts, crossing her arms with a smirk. “You didn’t notice? He looked like he’d forgotten how to breathe. Seriously, Yeojin, the guy clearly has a favorite.”

“He was so obvious!” ViVi chimes in, leaning forward. “And did you see his teammates? They were dying. I swear, if you’d winked at him, he might’ve fainted.”

Yeojin laughs nervously, brushing her hair behind her ear. “He was probably just… impressed with our choreography,” she says, avoiding their knowing looks.

“Oh, sure,” Hyeju replies, rolling her eyes. “Because choreography is what had him staring like that. Not your sparkling personality or, I don’t know, the fact that you’re gorgeous or anything.”

ViVi nudges her, a playful grin spreading across her face. “You should totally go for him, Yeojin. He’s cute—and clearly into you.”

“Very into you,” Gowon agrees, her voice teasing but sincere. “I mean, the man couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d held up a sign that said, ‘Marry me.’”

Yeojin’s cheeks burn, and she quickly busies herself with adjusting her water bottle. “You’re all being ridiculous,” she mutters, though she can’t hide the tiny smile tugging at her lips.

“Ridiculous?” ViVi counters. “It’s the perfect opportunity! A cute baseball player, clearly smitten, and you, Miss Limited Edition Signed Jersey over here? It’s fate.”

Yeojin groans, hiding her face behind her hands as the girls burst into laughter around her. “You guys are the worst,” she mumbles, though her voice carries a warmth she can’t quite suppress.

“You love us,” Hyeju says with a grin, leaning back. “But seriously, if you don’t at least say hi to him before we leave, I’m taking matters into my own hands.”

Yeojin shoots her a wide-eyed look. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I absolutely would,” Hyeju replies, her smirk growing.

Before Yeojin can respond, the stadium erupts into cheers for the start of the game, giving her the perfect excuse to shift her focus. She sits back, her heart still racing as she sneaks a glance toward the field. When your eyes meet hers across the distance, your proud smile makes her breath catch, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

-----

The stadium is thick with tension—it’s the bottom of the ninth, and your team is clinging to a one-run lead. The electric energy of the crowd feels almost tangible, each cheer and murmur blending into a symphony of anticipation. Yeojin sits on the edge of her seat, her heart pounding as she watches you take the mound. She’s seen you pitch countless times before, but tonight feels different. The determined intensity in your expression, the way you square your shoulders before gripping the ball—it all sends a quiet thrill through her chest.

Her hands clasp tightly together as you take your stance, the ball snug in your glove. The batter steps into the box, and the crowd’s roar crescendos, the pitch count hovering on a razor’s edge. Yeojin’s gaze never leaves you, her chest tightening with each passing second. She watches as you grip the ball, your fingers settling into the seams with practiced precision. The tension is palpable as you wind up, your form a perfect blend of power and control.

Then, it happens.

The ball leaves your hand with a smooth snap, cutting through the air like a bullet. For a brief moment, everything feels suspended, the stadium holding its collective breath as the ball rockets toward the plate. The batter swings. The crack of impact reverberates like a gunshot, and Yeojin’s heart stutters.

A blur of motion. The ball hurtles straight back toward the mound—a split second, no time to think. Your glove snaps up instinctively, the sharp thwack of impact cutting through the noise. The ball deflects away from your head, careening off to the side, but the force staggers you. Your knees hit the dirt, and you slump forward slightly, visibly shaken.

The crowd collectively gasps, the electric energy of the game giving way to a wave of tense murmurs. Yeojin’s breath catches, her chest tightening as she watches you press a hand to your head, your face taut with discomfort. You wave off the trainer jogging toward you, trying to shake it off, but you don’t immediately rise. That’s all it takes for panic to flood her chest. Her fingers tightened around her jersey as her heart pounded as she willed you to stand.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, her voice trembling. Without thinking, she bolts from her seat, ignoring her friends’ surprised calls as she hurries down the stadium steps. Her pulse races with each step, her gaze locked on the bullpen entrance where she knows you’ll be taken.

Yeojin weaves through the throngs of concerned fans until she reaches the edge of the restricted area. A security guard steps forward, shaking his head firmly. “Sorry, miss. You can’t go past this point.”

“Please,” she says urgently, glancing past him toward the dugout. “I just need to see if he’s okay.”

The guard hesitates but doesn’t budge. Desperate, Yeojin moves to the side, craning her neck for any angle that might give her a glimpse of you. Her hands grip the railing tightly, her heart pounding as she finally spots you on the bench. From her vantage point, she can only see part of your profile, but it’s enough to confirm you’re upright, talking to the trainer.

She holds her breath, willing herself not to cry as the tension in her chest lingers. Then, as if sensing her, you glance over your shoulder. Your eyes meet hers, and though your movements are still slow and careful, the small smile you flash her is steady and reassuring. You lift your hand slightly in a subtle wave, a silent message: I’m okay.

Yeojin exhales shakily, her hands loosening their grip on the railing as relief floods her. For a moment, she lingers, her lips curving into a tentative smile in response. Then, with one last glance at you, she turns and heads back toward her seat.

By the time she climbs the steps back to her section, her friends are watching her with curious expressions. “What was that about?” Gowon asks, leaning closer.

Yeojin shrugs, brushing her hair behind her ear as she sits. “I just… wanted to check on him,” she says, keeping her tone casual despite the lingering adrenaline in her veins.

ViVi tilts her head, her lips twitching with a smile. “You’re really invested in this game, huh?”

“Well, he’s their best player,” Yeojin replies, adjusting the hem of your jersey. “Someone has to cheer for him.”

Her friends exchange amused glances but don’t push further, turning their attention back to the game. As the action resumes, Yeojin steals one more glance toward the bullpen. You’re still seated but looking steady now, chatting with the trainer. Relief washes over her as she sees you lean forward, your shoulders squared with resolve, ready to get back in the game.

The tension builds as the final moments unfold, every pitch and swing keeping the crowd on edge. Yeojin clutches at your jersey, her fingers brushing over the warmth of your signature as the last out is made, sealing the win for your team. The stadium erupts into cheers, the roar deafening as your teammates rush the field to celebrate. Her heart swells with pride, the earlier fear eclipsed entirely by admiration for your unwavering strength.

As the stadium begins to empty, Yeojin practically drags her friends down toward the field, her excitement bubbling over as she skips ahead. Her friends trail behind, exchanging confused but curious glances at her sudden burst of enthusiasm.

“Where are you going?” Gowon calls after her, struggling to keep up.

“Just come on!” Yeojin replies, glancing over her shoulder with a wide grin. Her pulse quickens as she spots you waiting in the dugout, scanning the thinning crowd until your gaze lands on her.

The moment your eyes meet, a bright smile spreads across your face, and without hesitation, Yeojin takes off across the field. Her friends stop in their tracks, staring as she runs straight to you, leaping into your arms with a joyful squeal. You catch her effortlessly, lifting her as if she weighs nothing, holding her close as she plants a quick, happy kiss on your cheek.

The group stands frozen, their eyes wide as they process what they’re seeing.

“Wait… did she just…” Gowon begins, her voice trailing off.

“Did she just run up and kiss him?” Hyeju whispers, glancing between you and Yeojin as if trying to confirm she’s not imagining things.

Their confusion grows as you set Yeojin gently back on the ground, your arm staying casually draped over her shoulder. Her cheeks are flushed, but she’s grinning ear to ear, clearly unfazed by the scene she’s caused.

With a soft chuckle, you greet her friends, your easy smile and warm demeanor making their stunned expressions all the more amusing. Finally, Gowon snaps out of it, blinking rapidly before giving Yeojin a teasing smirk.

“Okay, not to be dramatic,” she says, motioning toward you, “but… what the actual fuck?”

The rest of the group bursts into laughter, ViVi adding, “Seriously, Yeo-jin, care to explain how this happened?”

Yeojin fidgets slightly, her blush deepening as she looks between you and her friends. “What do you mean?” she asks, playing innocent. “He’s… just my boyfriend.”

“Just?” Gowon repeats, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Are you serious right now? You’ve been holding out on us! You could’ve mentioned you were dating a literal star player!”

“Speaking of which,” ViVi cuts in, her eyes widening as she looks up at you, “how tall are you, exactly?”

“198,” you reply with a grin, clearly amused by their reactions.

They all turn to Yeojin, who crosses her arms with a mock huff. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m short. You’ve all said it before,” she says, though her proud smile betrays her.

“You’re not just short,” Hyeju teases, nudging her shoulder. “Next to him, you’re basically pocket-sized. It’s kind of adorable.”

Yeojin groans, rolling her eyes. “Thanks for the reminder.”

Hyunjin steps closer, her curiosity lighting up her expression. “So…” she begins, hesitating for a moment. “Would it be weird if we, uh, tested something?”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Hmm?”

She motions toward your arms. “I’ve always wanted to try hanging off someone super strong. You look like you could handle it.”

Yeojin shoots her a look, but you laugh, glancing at your girlfriend for permission. She sighs, muttering, “Fine, but don’t break him.”

With a grin, you extend your arms, and Hyunjin and ViVi eagerly grab on, giggling as they dangle from you like children on a jungle gym. You lift them effortlessly, even spinning slightly for effect, earning cheers and laughter from the rest of the group.

“Whoa… He’s actually doing it,” Hyeju says, her tone full of admiration. “You’ve got some serious strength.”

Yeojin, however, watches with narrowed eyes, her smile fading slightly. Finally, she steps forward, hands on her hips. “Alright, that’s enough,” she says, her voice firm but playful. “Let him go.”

The girls reluctantly release your arms, laughing as they exchange amused glances. But before you can lower them fully, Yeojin leaps up, wrapping herself around you with a little huff. She locks her legs around your waist, grinning triumphantly as she turns to her friends. “This is my spot,” she declares, sticking out her tongue.

The group dissolves into laughter, though their teasing glances don’t go unnoticed. “Possessive much?” Gowon quips, shaking her head with a smirk.

You chuckle, leaning down to murmur softly in Yeojin’s ear, “Didn’t know you got jealous so easily.”

Yeojin pouts, looking up at you with a small smile. “Can’t help it,” she whispers back. “You’re mine.”

The group exchanges whispered comments, their curiosity and amusement clear. But Yeojin doesn’t care. As you hold her close, the warmth of your embrace and the quiet pride in her heart remind her that no amount of teasing could take away what you two share.

-----

As the door clicks shut behind you, Yeojin spins around with a playful glint in her eyes, arms folded in mock defiance. Her cheeks are still flushed from the night’s excitement, but there’s something else now—a spark of mischief that makes her gaze dance in the dim light.

“You know,” she begins, taking a slow step closer, her voice teasing, “you owe me for making me jealous tonight.”

Leaning back against the door, you raise an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Oh, do I?” you ask, your tone light but edged with challenge.

She nods, feigning seriousness, though the smile pulling at her lips betrays her amusement. “Letting those girls hang all over you like that… What was that about?” Her hands go to her hips as she tilts her head, her mock indignation only making her look more endearing.

You chuckle, leaning forward just enough to bring your face level with hers. “If I remember right, you gave me permission, and…” you murmur, your voice dropping slightly, “you were the one climbing me like a tree afterward. I think you made your point pretty clear.”

Yeojin bites her lip, the blush on her cheeks deepening, but she doesn’t back down. Instead, she loops her arms around your neck, her smile turning sly. “I’m not so sure,” she replies, her tone soft but teasing. “You might have to work a little harder to make it up to me.”

You slide your hands around her waist, pulling her closer until the space between you is nonexistent. “Alright,” you say, your voice a low murmur, “I’ll bite. How exactly am I supposed to make it up to you, hmm?”

Yeojin hums thoughtfully, as if considering her options, before gently nudging you toward the couch. Her hands stay light on your chest as she guides you, her steps deliberate yet playful. Once you’re seated, she settles onto your lap, her small frame fitting perfectly into your arms. The soft weight of her against you sends a warmth coursing through your chest as her hands slide up to rest lightly on your shoulders.

“For starters,” she whispers, leaning in close, her lips hovering just shy of yours, “you could promise I’m the only one who gets to cling to you like that.”

Her breath brushes your skin, teasing as her words hang in the air. You meet her gaze, a flicker of amusement in your eyes. “Done,” you whisper back, your voice soft but sure. And then, without hesitation, you close the space, capturing her lips in a kiss that starts slow and sweet, her warmth melting into you. It’s the kind of kiss that makes the rest of the world disappear, leaving only the quiet intensity between you.

As her fingers trail lightly along your chest, Yeojin pulls back just enough to speak, her voice barely above a murmur. “And you can start by spoiling me a little more,” she teases, her playful tone returning as her fingers toy with the fabric of your shirt.

Your low chuckle vibrates against her, and you tilt your head slightly, your thumb grazing her cheek. “You don’t even have to ask, princess,” you reply, your words carrying a weight that lingers between you.

The air shifts, the laughter between you fading into something quieter, warmer. Yeojin’s breath hitches as she looks up at you, her eyes searching yours for a moment before her hands find their way to your shirt. Slowly, her fingertips trace along your chest before she lifts the fabric, pulling it up and over your shoulders with deliberate grace, her movements unhurried as if savoring the moment.

Your hand slides to her waist, steadying her as you guide her closer, your fingers slipping beneath the hem of her shirt. Her breath catches as your touch skims bare skin, her body reacting instinctively to your warmth. You take your time, letting the fabric rise slowly, your gaze locked on hers, the air between you thick with anticipation. When her shirt finally falls to the floor, she exhales softly, her blush deepening as she feels your hands settle on her sides, grounding her.

Yeojin’s hands find their way to your belt, her touch sure but deliberate as her eyes flick up to yours, silently asking permission. You nod, your smirk softening into something more intimate, and she works the buckle loose before tugging the fabric free. You follow her lead, your fingers trailing down to the waistband of her jeans. Her breathing quickens as you unfasten the button, your movements steady as you guide them down, leaving them to pool at her feet.

When you straighten, your hands find the curve of her hips, your touch firm but reverent as her own hands lift to your waist, slipping beneath the edge of your pants to push them down with a gentle insistence. As the last of the fabric falls away, the space between you seems to hum, the night’s earlier excitement replaced by a quiet, electric intensity.

The room feels smaller now, the air charged as you take each other in—skin to skin, your gazes holding steady. Yeojin leans into you, her arms wrapping around your shoulders as her lips find yours, the kiss deep and unhurried, a promise that lingers between you. The warmth of her body against yours ignites something that words can’t capture, leaving the rest of the night open, unwritten, and entirely yours.

Without a word, you lean down, your arms securing her tightly as you lift her effortlessly, her body fitting snugly against your chest. Yeojin gasps softly, her legs instinctively wrapping around your waist, her arms clinging to your shoulders as she feels the full strength of your hold. The contrast between your broad, solid frame and her smaller stature sends a shiver of exhilaration through her—she feels weightless in your grasp, as if gravity itself bends to your will.

Her heart races as your hands shift, gripping her thighs firmly. In one smooth, fluid motion, you flip and lower her upside down, her thighs draping over your powerful shoulders. Her body hangs securely, her soft skin brushing against your neck while your steady grip keeps her firmly in place. The sheer size of you against her height makes her feel both delicate and cherished, a thrill sparking through her as she adjusts to the new position.

Suspended in your grasp, Yeojin’s breath catches as her lips find the warmth of your skin. The firmness of your muscles under her mouth sends a pulse of excitement through her, and she can’t help but press soft kisses there, each touch drawing a sharp, appreciative inhale from you. Her hands steady themselves against your hips, her small fingers gripping the solid expanse of your body for balance.

As you lean forward, your mouth finds her with an unrestrained hunger that takes her breath away. The first touch of your tongue sends a bolt of pleasure straight through her, and she trembles, her body instinctively pressing closer to you. Each movement of your tongue feels electric, worshiping her with a precision that makes her toes curl.

The smoothness of your skin against her inner thighs complements the warmth and wetness of your mouth, the sensations blending into an intoxicating mix that leaves her gasping. Her body trembles, her thighs pressing against your neck as her hips buck involuntarily in response to your ministrations. You grip her thighs tighter, spreading her open as you delve deeper, your tongue moving with insatiable fervor. Each stroke pulls a new, breathy cry from her lips, her whimpers of pleasure filling the room, echoing with the raw intimacy shared between you.

At the same time, Yeojin’s lips part around your length, taking you eagerly into her mouth. The sheer weight of you, the fullness stretching her jaw, makes her thighs quiver as she works to please you. Her tongue moves eagerly, tracing every ridge and vein as her lips slide along your shaft. The salty taste of precum teases her, a reminder of the effect she has on you, fueling her determination to take you deeper.

But as your tongue finds that sensitive spot within her, her resolve falters. A sharp moan escapes her lips, vibrating around you as her hips grind instinctively against your face. She fights to refocus, her cheeks hollowing as she takes you in again, but the sensations you’re drawing from her are relentless. Your tongue presses into her with precision, and her breath catches as you graze her most sensitive spot. Her movements falter, her concentration breaking as she’s overwhelmed by pleasure.

When your length brushes the back of her throat, her body jolts, her gasp muffled against you. The stretch leaves her momentarily breathless, her fingers tightening on your hips as she tries to keep pace. “Oh—” she tries to gasp, but the sounds dissolve into helpless moans, each vibration against you spurring you on. Her attempts to regain control falter again as your tongue moves deeper, coaxing another cry from her lips.

The slick, rhythmic sounds of your connection fill the room, blending with her muffled moans and your low, guttural groans. Her arousal drips onto your skin, her body trembling uncontrollably as her pleasure builds. “God, you’re amazing,” you murmur against her, your voice thick with sincerity. Your hands flex against her thighs, your grip firm and possessive as you hold her steady, your tongue stroking deeper and more deliberately.

Yeojin’s cries grow desperate as her body tightens around you, her legs trembling against your shoulders. The tension in her core builds steadily, each flick of your tongue pushing her closer to the edge. Her breath catches in sharp gasps, her body quaking with anticipation. She clutches at your hips for stability, but her movements grow erratic as she loses herself in the sensations.

When your fingers dig into her soft thighs, anchoring her even closer, the tension snaps. “Ahh—oh my god!” she screams, her voice trembling as her climax hits her with breathtaking force. Her entire body stiffens, her walls spasming uncontrollably as waves of pleasure crash through her. You hold her tightly, your grip unyielding as you press her against you, your tongue working her through every pulse of her release.

Her hips buck against your face, her cries echoing in the room as her orgasm overtakes her completely. She clings to your hips for dear life, her hands shaking as her body surrenders to the intensity. “I can’t… oh my god, I can’t,” she whimpers, the words tumbling out as the aftershocks ripple through her. Each tremor leaves her breathless, her thighs quivering as you continue your unrelenting ministrations.

Finally, her body goes limp in your grasp, her head falling forward as she struggles to catch her breath. You shift slightly, adjusting your hold to keep her steady, your touch gentle but still possessive. Her soft whimpers fill the quiet, her entire being humming with the aftermath of her release.

When she finally lifts her head, her cheeks are flushed, her mascara streaked slightly, but her smile is radiant. “You’re unbelievable,” she whispers, her voice trembling with exhaustion and satisfaction.

You chuckle softly, pressing a lingering kiss to her thigh. “That’s just the beginning,” you murmur, the promise in your tone making her shiver anew.

Still trembling from the earlier intensity, Yeojin lets out a soft gasp as you flip her to her feet, guiding her back to you with firm hands. Her body pressed flush against your chest, her soft skin warm and inviting. Without hesitation, you grip her firmly, lifting her off the ground in one smooth motion. Her legs dangle freely, toes brushing against your thighs as you hold her up by her breasts, your large hands cradling her delicate frame.

The weightlessness leaves her breathless, a shiver coursing through her as she realizes how completely you’re holding her. Your fingers curl around her sensitive nipples, squeezing gently, your thumbs brushing over her hardened peaks. Each touch draws a soft whimper from her lips, her body responding to every deliberate motion. “You’re so small,” you murmur, your voice low and rough against her ear. “I love how you fit perfectly in my hands.”

Her breath hitches at your words, and a thrill races through her at the sheer size and strength you exude. She feels utterly enveloped by you, each motion a reminder of how easily you carry her. “I love it too,” she whispers, her voice trembling with need. “Please… I need you.”

You don’t make her wait. Adjusting your grip to pull her closer, you angle her hips, lining yourself up with her slick heat. The first thrust is deliberate and deep, burying yourself fully inside her in one swift motion. Her head falls back, a sharp cry escaping her lips. “Oh my god,” she gasps, her voice breaking as her body stretches to accommodate you. The overwhelming sensation of being filled leaves her trembling in your grasp.

“Fuck, Yeojin,” you groan, your fingers flexing against her breasts as you begin to move. “You’re so tight… so fucking perfect.”

Her legs sway with each powerful thrust, the motion making her feel completely at your mercy. Her walls pulse around you, gripping you tightly as she whimpers, “Yes… so good. So full.” Her voice is breathless, her hands reaching up to clutch at your arms, her nails lightly raking over your skin as she struggles to steady herself.

Your hands knead her breasts as you pick up the pace, your thumbs circling and pinching her sensitive peaks. The added stimulation sends shivers down her spine, her body arching instinctively in your hold. “You feel that, princess?” you murmur against her ear, your voice thick with desire. “Feel how deep I am inside you?”

“Yes,” she cries, her back arching as the sensations flood her body. “I love it… love how you fill me.”

Her hands drop to her stomach, her fingers pressing lightly against her skin as if trying to ground herself. She gasps when she feels you pushing in and out of her, the motion resonating deep within. “I can feel you,” she whispers, her voice a mixture of awe and pleasure. “So deep…”

The sensation intensifies as your grip tightens, your fingers digging into the soft flesh of her breasts. Each movement becomes more deliberate, your thrusts deepening as you shift her slightly, driving her backward with every motion to meet your hips. The angle changes, and a sharp gasp rips from her throat as you hit the spot that sends jolts of electric pleasure through her. Her legs quiver in the air, her head tilting back as her body struggles to process the overwhelming sensation, her cries growing louder with every deliberate thrust.

“That’s it,” you growl, your voice low and rough, your rhythm relentless as her walls clench around you. “Right there. You feel me, don’t you? Taking you exactly how you need.”

“Yes, yes!” she cries, her voice trembling with desperation. Her body melts into your hold, entirely weightless as she surrenders to the intensity. “Don’t stop—please, don’t stop.”

Her moans grow erratic, the wet, rhythmic sounds of your connection filling the room, mingling with your labored breaths. Every powerful thrust pushes her closer to the edge, the sheer force of your movements making her tremble uncontrollably. Your fingers tug and pinch at her nipples, her cries of pleasure growing louder with each twist of your touch.

“You’re mine,” you growl, your words reverberating against her skin as you press your lips to her neck. “Every inch of you. You’re mine.”

Her legs quiver as her head falls forward, her breathing ragged. “Yes,” she moans, her voice trembling. “I’m yours. All yours.”

Your pace quickens, each thrust deep and precise, driving her to a fever pitch as her body arches and tightens around you. The sharp cries escaping her lips tell you everything you need to know—she’s right on the edge, completely lost in the ecstasy of your touch.

The relentless depth of your thrusts drives her higher and higher as her cries grow desperate and her body tightens around you. “Don’t stop,” she pleads, her voice barely more than a whimper. “Please… I’m so close.”

You shift slightly, angling her hips to plunge even deeper, your thrusts growing harder and faster, each motion sending sparks of pleasure coursing through her. Her trembling becomes uncontrollable, her breaths ragged as the tension builds to an unbearable height. Her fingers clutch desperately at your forearms, her nails biting into your skin as if anchoring herself to reality. Her cries escalate, breaking into frantic gasps as her body teeters precariously on the edge.

“Fuck—there!” she screams, her voice raw and shattering as her climax slams into her with devastating force. Her entire body convulses, her head falling forward onto your shoulder as her muscles give way, leaving her completely limp in your hands. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashes through her, her walls clenching around you with an intensity that borders on overwhelming. Each pulsation grips you tighter, pulling you impossibly deeper into her heat, her body trembling violently as she lets out a series of breathless, broken cries.

But you don’t let up. Your grip on her tightens, your hands steadying her trembling frame as you continue to thrust, your movements deliberate and unrelenting. Each motion draws out her climax, prolonging the intoxicating waves of pleasure coursing through her. Her head tilts back, her mouth falling open as her voice becomes high-pitched and fractured, her overstimulated body writhing uncontrollably against you.

“Too much—oh my god!” she whimpers, her words tumbling out in gasping fragments. Yet, despite her plea, her hips betray her, instinctively rocking to meet yours, the overwhelming sensation mingling with an insatiable, desperate need. Her body quivers in your hold, the aftershocks colliding with your unyielding rhythm, and her cries blend into the sound of skin meeting skin, her sensitivity turning into a heady, all-consuming bliss.

And then it happens, before the first climax fully fades, another builds, the relentless friction and fullness pushing her straight into a second wave. Her entire body stiffens in your grasp, her head snapping back against your shoulder as the overwhelming sensation tears through her. “I’m cumming again!” she cries, her voice a mix of shock and unrestrained ecstasy. Her walls flutter violently around you, each contraction milking every inch of you as she tumbles headlong into a second, earth-shattering release.

Her cries of pleasure become incoherent, her body melting further into your hands as her climax washes over her in crashing waves. The slick heat of her arousal coats you, and the rhythmic clenching around your length pulls you closer to your own edge. “Fuck, Yeojin,” you groan, your thrusts growing erratic as the heat in your core builds to an unbearable peak.

With a guttural moan, you pull her as close as possible, burying yourself fully inside her as your release hits like an unstoppable wave. Each pulse surges deep within her, a searing heat spreading through her core as you fill her completely. Her body responds instantly, trembling violently as her walls spasm around you, clutching you tighter with every throb of your release. The fullness overwhelms her, sending her into a frenzy of sensation, her breaths hitching into sharp, uneven gasps.

“Oh my god,” she cries, her voice trembling as her body convulses. The sensation of being filled so completely pushes her to another peak, her climax gripping her with renewed intensity. Her walls flutter uncontrollably, their rhythmic contractions pulling you deeper, as if her body is desperate to claim every drop. The pulsing heat between you draws out her pleasure in endless waves, her cries raw and unrestrained.

Your hands find her breasts, kneading them gently, your fingers brushing against her taut, sensitive peaks. The sensation only amplifies her ecstasy, her head lolling weakly against your shoulder as she rides out the unrelenting pleasure. Her body feels weightless in your hold, trembling as the aftershocks ripple through her.

As your release continues to surge, your legs falter under the sheer intensity of the moment. “Fuck…” you groan, your voice rough and shaky as your knees buckle. Losing your balance, you stumble forward, collapsing onto the bed with her still pressed tightly against you. The added weight presses you deeper into her, burying you to the hilt in a way that neither of you is prepared for.

The effect is immediate. The sudden depth makes her cry out, a sharp, high-pitched squeal tearing from her lips as her overstimulated body is driven into another powerful climax. Her thighs quake uncontrollably, her back arching against you as the intensity consumes her entirely. “Ahh—FUCK!” she screams, her voice shaking as her body bucks beneath you, her release crashing over her like a tidal wave.

Her walls clamp down hard, the rhythmic pulsations drawing every last ounce of your release into her. Each spasm feels impossibly tight, pulling at you with relentless force, her cries dissolving into incoherent moans as the pleasure overtakes her completely. Her hands claw at the sheets, her knuckles white as her body convulses, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

The deep, intimate pressure of your release combined with the weight of your body pinning her down prolongs her climax, leaving her utterly lost in the moment. Each pump reignites her sensitivity, her oversaturated nerves sending jolts of pleasure through her as if she’s trapped in a cycle of ecstasy. “I can’t—oh my god, I can’t!” she gasps, her voice broken as her body jerks uncontrollably in your grasp.

Her second climax stretches on, each wave crashing harder than the last, leaving her trembling violently. The combination of your warmth spilling into her, the unrelenting depth, and the closeness of your bodies becomes an intoxicating overload. Her cries turn into soft, breathless whimpers, her body spent yet still clinging to the aftershocks, as though it doesn’t want the moment to end.

You hold her tightly, your hands cupping her breasts as you knead them gently, grounding her in your embrace. “You’re amazing,” you murmur, your voice thick with awe as you press soft kisses to her shoulder. Your body stills, but the weight of you keeps her anchored, every lingering contraction pulling you closer as you both ride out the final moments of bliss.

When the intensity finally begins to ebb, her body goes completely limp beneath you, her breathing shallow and uneven as she shivers against the mattress. Her warmth presses against you, and you instinctively shift to avoid putting too much weight on her, but you don’t pull away. Your chest remains flush against her back, your arms wrapped protectively around her waist as the lingering tremors of her release ripple through her.

“Are you okay?” you murmur softly, your lips brushing against the shell of her ear, the tenderness in your tone grounding her.

She nods weakly, her voice barely audible as she lets out a soft, breathless sigh. “That was… oh my god, that was… the best,” she murmurs, her words trailing off as the aftershocks continue to course through her. Her cheeks are deeply flushed, her skin glistening with a sheen of effort and ecstasy. When she tilts her head slightly to glance up at you, her eyes are heavy-lidded and glazed with a dreamy, dazed expression. She looks utterly spent yet so full of contentment that it makes your chest ache with affection.

“Not going to argue with that,” you reply, a soft chuckle escaping as you brush a damp strand of hair from her face. “That was… something else.”

As you begin to shift, intending to pull away, her hand suddenly presses against yours, her fingers curling weakly around your arm. “Wait,” she whispers, her voice trembling but firm. “Just… stay. Just for a little while.”

You pause, the words stirring something deep within you. Nodding silently, you settle back against her, letting your weight ground her as you both bask in the afterglow. The intimacy of the moment feels infinite, your breathing slowly syncing as the world outside seems to dissolve.

Minutes pass, the quiet punctuated only by the faint hum of your synchronized breaths and her occasional whimpers as the lingering aftershocks ripple through her body. She remains still beneath you, her trembling legs unable to support her fully, as if the weight of the moment has left her boneless.

When you finally begin to pull out, it’s with deliberate care, your movements slow and tender, your hand resting on her lower back to steady her. The moment you leave her, she gasps softly, her body instinctively clenching at the sudden emptiness. A high-pitched whimper escapes her lips, her voice trembling with raw emotion as her body quivers in response.

“No…” she whines softly, her forehead pressing against the mattress as her fingers weakly clutch the sheets for stability. The loss seems almost unbearable, a hollow ache that fills the void you’ve left behind. “I’m so full but… I feel so empty,” she murmurs, her words laced with both longing and exhaustion.

Your eyes lower, taking in the sight of your release threatening to spill from her, glistening as it lingers at her entrance. The sight stirs something protective and possessive in you, a reminder of the connection you’ve just shared. Reaching out gently, you press a soothing kiss to the curve of her shoulder, your hand rubbing gentle circles along her back. “I’ve got you,” you whisper, your voice full of warmth as you pull her closer into your embrace. She melts into you again, her soft, spent body fitting perfectly against yours.

The world outside feels distant, the quiet intimacy of the moment wrapping you both in a cocoon of warmth and trust. Neither of you speaks, the gentle rhythm of your synchronized breaths the only sound, as her body fully relaxes in your arms.

Eventually, Yeojin stirs slightly, her head lifting just enough to mumble, “We’re… such a mess.” Her voice is barely audible, her words trailing off as her eyes flutter shut again.

You laugh softly, your hands trailing down her back in soothing strokes. “You’re not wrong,” you admit, glancing down at the tousled strands of hair sticking to her damp skin and the faint sheen that glistens over you both. “How about we clean up?”

She groans softly, her arms tightening weakly around your neck. “I don’t think I can move,” she admits, her voice tinged with a mixture of humor and genuine fatigue. “You’ll have to do everything.”

“Deal,” you reply with a grin, scooping her up effortlessly. She lets out a soft gasp, but it’s quickly followed by a quiet, sleepy giggle as she leans her head against your shoulder, her arms draping limply around your neck.

The bathroom fills with soft steam as you adjust the shower, the warm spray cascading down and curling around you both. Yeojin shivers slightly in your arms as you guide her under the water, her body slumping gently against you. She tilts her head back, letting the spray soak her hair and trail down her delicate frame. A contented sigh escapes her lips as the water warms her skin, her eyelids fluttering closed.

Her small hands rest lightly on your chest, her grip loose and trusting. “You’re too good to me,” she murmurs, her voice soft and dreamy.

“You make it easy,” you reply, brushing your lips against her temple. The water streams around you both, and her body sags further against yours, her trust in your care palpable as you hold her steady.

“Let me take care of you,” you say gently, brushing a damp strand of hair from her flushed face. She nods weakly, her trust in you evident as she allows you to guide her closer to the stream. The water trails down her body, glistening over her soft curves as she lets out a quiet, contented sigh.

You reach for the shampoo, lathering it between your hands before carefully working it into her hair. Your fingers move in slow, soothing circles, massaging her scalp with deliberate care. She hums softly, her head tilting forward slightly, her balance wavering as she leans heavily into your chest.

“Relax,” you murmur, holding her steady with one hand on her waist. “I’ve got you.”

Her lips curve into a faint smile, her eyes closing as she lets herself melt into your touch. The soft hum of the water surrounds you both, a cocoon of warmth and quiet intimacy. As you rinse her hair, guiding the water to wash away the suds, her small hands rest limply against your arms, her fingers curling weakly as if to hold onto you.

When her hair is clean, you reach for the body wash, lathering it onto your hands. Gently, you trail your palms over her shoulders and down her arms, your touch light but thorough. “You’re so good to me,” she murmurs, her voice slurred with exhaustion and affection. Her head rests against your chest, her breaths shallow but steady.

You smile softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You deserve it,” you reply, your tone low and full of warmth.

As your hands move lower, gliding over her back and across her sides, you notice the slight quiver in her legs. “Can you stand, or should I hold you up?” you ask, your voice tinged with concern.

She shakes her head weakly, her hands clutching at your arms. “Just… hold me,” she whispers, her tone almost pleading.

Without hesitation, you slide your arm around her waist, pulling her closer to steady her. Your other hand continues its careful work, trailing down to her thighs. Her breath hitches as your fingers glide over the inside of her thighs, your touch gentle but deliberate. You shift slightly, intending to clean her thoroughly, but the moment your hand moves higher, she weakly stops you, her small fingers curling around your wrist.

“Don’t,” she whispers, her voice trembling but firm. “I… want to keep it. Please.”

Your chest tightens at her words, the intimacy of the moment stealing your breath. You lower your hand immediately, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Okay,” you murmur, your voice thick with affection. “Anything you want.”

She relaxes again in your hold, her trust and vulnerability filling the space between you with a quiet intensity. You adjust her slightly, resuming your gentle attention elsewhere, ensuring she feels cared for without pushing her boundaries.

As the water rinses her skin, you feel the last remnants of tension leave her body, replaced by a deep, bone-deep relaxation. Her head lolls to the side, her cheek resting against your chest as she exhales softly, her lips brushing against your skin.

“Almost done,” you whisper, your hand trailing down her legs one final time. The warmth of the water and the tenderness of the moment seem to lull her further, her eyes fluttering closed as she lets herself lean fully into your support.

When you’re finished, you turn off the shower and wrap her in a fluffy towel, lifting her effortlessly as her arms drape over your shoulders. “You’re spoiling me,” she murmurs sleepily, her voice muffled against your neck.

“Good,” you reply, pressing a kiss to the crown of her damp hair. “You deserve to be spoiled.”

Her cheeks flush deeper, but she doesn’t argue, simply burying her face against you as you carry her out of the bathroom. Once back in the bedroom, you set her down gently, sitting her on the edge of the bed as you begin to dry her hair with the towel.

Her head tilts forward slightly, her eyes half-closed as you fuss over her. “Okay, enough,” she protests weakly, though the softness in her voice and the tiny smile on her lips betray her affection for your care. “I can do it myself.”

“Not yet,” you reply with a grin, continuing to gently rub the towel over her damp hair. “You’re still half asleep, and I don’t trust you not to just fall over.”

She lets out a small laugh, her shoulders relaxing further as you work. Once her hair is mostly dry, you hand her the towel to finish the rest. “Keep going,” you tell her gently, brushing a kiss to her temple. “I’ll be right back.”

Stepping away, you pull the rumpled covers from the bed, stripping the sheets and replacing them with fresh ones. The soft fabric feels cool under your fingers as you smooth the corners, ensuring everything is perfect for her. The faint scent of lavender from the new sheets fills the air, adding to the calm, cozy atmosphere.

By the time you return, Yeojin is still perched on the edge of the bed, her towel loosely draped around her shoulders. She looks up at you with sleepy, affectionate eyes, her small frame practically folding into itself as she waits.

“All done,” you announce with a soft smile, lifting the fresh blankets and gesturing for her to crawl in. She doesn’t need any prompting, slipping under the covers with a contented sigh as you slide in beside her.

Immediately, she shifts closer, curling into your chest as you drape your arm over her waist. Her small body fits perfectly against yours, and you gently pull her closer, resting your chin lightly on the top of her head. Her fingers trace absentminded patterns on your forearm as the warmth of her frame melts into yours.

“This is nice,” she murmurs, her voice muffled against your chest.

“Yeah,” you reply softly, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You’re perfect like this.”

The quiet comfort of the moment stretches out as her breathing slows, her body relaxing fully against yours. You think she might have drifted off when she stirs slightly, her fingers tightening their grip on your arm.

“What’s up?” you ask, glancing down at her.

She hesitates for a moment, her cheeks visibly pink even in the dim light. “I… I want to hold you,” she whispers, her voice small but certain.

Your eyebrows lift in surprise, but your heart swells at the sincerity in her words. A smile tugs at your lips as you gently nudge her chin so she looks up at you. “You want to switch?” you ask playfully, your voice tinged with affection.

She nods shyly, her gaze darting away before meeting yours again. “I just… I want to,” she murmurs, her tone vulnerable but earnest. “Please?”

You chuckle softly and roll onto your back, your arm slipping under her shoulders to guide her over. “Alright, princess,” you reply warmly, settling her partially on top of you.

Yeojin wastes no time, shifting until her body molds into yours, her chest pressing against your side as her arms drape over you. One leg slides over your waist, her knee hooking securely against your hip as if anchoring herself in place.She presses into you, her cheek nestles against your shoulder as she sighs contentedly.

Her fingers rest lightly against your chest, occasionally twitching as if trying to hold onto you tighter. “This feels good,” she murmurs, her voice thick with drowsy affection. “I just wanted to… be close to you.”

You smile softly, your hand finding its way to her back, brushing gentle circles over her skin. “I’m not going anywhere,” you reply, your tone low and soothing.

She shifts slightly, her lips brushing against your shoulder in a sleepy kiss. The tender gesture makes your chest tighten with warmth, though her attempt is interrupted when she sputters suddenly, pulling back with a small groan. “Bitter soap!” she mumbles, her voice full of sleepy indignation.

You laugh quietly, your fingers trailing up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s on you for sneaking a taste,” you tease gently.

She huffs playfully, burying her face into your shoulder as her arms tighten around you. “I don’t care. I’m not moving,” she mutters stubbornly, her words muffled against your skin.

“Good,” you reply with a grin, pulling the blanket higher over both of you. “Stay right there.”

Her breathing slows as her body fully relaxes into yours, the warmth and weight of her slight frame grounding you both. Even as sleep claims her, her leg stays draped over your waist, her fingers resting limply on your chest as if to remind you she’s still there.

Under the fresh covers, surrounded by the calm intimacy of the moment, you let your own eyes drift closed. The world outside fades, leaving just the quiet sound of her breaths and the steady beat of her heart against your side as you both sink into peaceful slumber, perfectly entwined.

685 notes · View notes