#*nervously shaking as he sips his drink* | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

swordsandholly · 6 months ago

Text

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

Part 5: Night Out

You find yourself squeezed into the center of a round corner booth, Johnny to your left and Kyle to your right with John beside him. The bar is relatively quiet, even for a Saturday night. It is early, though. Plenty of time left in the night for more people to file in. Apparently they go out drinking every third week of the month, a day set aside for them to be together and celebrate another month of success. It’s sweet that they invited you, if not a little nerve wracking - you’re not exactly sure how much they plan on drinking and you’ve been known to be rather… sloppy after one too many.

You nervously adjust your top while Johnny yaps about the equipment sales person with the incredible ass. It’s hard not to squirm being packed in between them, hyper aware of the width of your hips and the size of your arms as they squish against far more toned, muscular limbs. A mean itch in the back of your mind lectures you about taking up too much space - about inconveniencing the people around you. About the optics of the pitiable fat girl tolerated by the handsome men around her.

An elbow to your arm finally knocks you out of your daze. “Och! There he is!”

You blink, following Johnny’s gaze to the man climbing into the booth beside him. It takes your brain a moment to catch up, processing the person in front of you. Your eyes turn to saucers as you realize it’s Simon - signature tattoos, piercings and all - just without his usual surgical mask. It shouldn’t make that much a difference, he still has that low brow and big dark eyes that slide over to you and make your stomach flip…but now you get the addition of his crooked nose, broken more than once and not set right, a small cleft scar leading down to a part of pretty, pink lips that quirk up in the corners when he catches you staring. A few scars scattered across his sharp jaw you hadn’t noticed before and a light layer of blonde stubble around each engraving on his face.

“You’re pretty!?” You gasp, words tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop them. You bury your face in your hands while the others (Johnny) burst out in a fit of laughter. Simon’s shoulders shake in that signature, barely audible chuckle as he settles into the booth. Suddenly you feel a little less self conscious about the amount of space you take up in comparison.

John orders a round for everyone. Some light mixers to sip while you talk. You stick to listening, mostly, while the boys talk shop. You pick up a few personal tidbits here and there - specifically about Simon’s apparent sweet tooth as Johnny teases him about going through an entire package of licorice in one sitting. You file that away for later. Apparently John got his start after he enlisted in the military and got several very shitty tattoos during the first couple of years. Dropped out to get an apprenticeship, figuring he could do better. Kyle rolls his eyes, as if he’d heard the tale a few too many times.

“Where ye thinkin’ of lettin’ Kyle ink ye?” Johnny leans in close, breaking out of the group conversation.

You tilit your head. “Haven’t really thought about it. Wherever he’s comfortable, I guess.”

“Givin’ him free reign? Tha’s dangerous, bonnie. Might put it somewhere scandalous.”

“Wouldn’t be the first.” You blurt, regretting it immediately when you see that impish sparkle in his eye.

Johnny dips closer to you, shoulder pressing against yours. “Oh? Thought ye were a good girl, hen.”

“I’ve got a couple you haven’t, and will never get close enough to see, MacTavish.” You laugh.

“Is tha’ a challenge?” He grins, hand just barely ghosting over your thigh.

You shrug, face hot. ”Even if it was, you’d lose.”

There’s probably something deeply wrong with flirting with your coworkers while your boss sits a foot away, but your skin is too warm and your drink tastes to good for you to focus on that fleeing thought for long.

“From the gentleman at the bar.” A woman appears in front of your table, sliding a glass of pink cocktail toward you.

You stare at it before glancing up to meet a pair of dark eyes. He’s handsome, smiles and nods before going back to his own drink. Something cold runs down your spine, the bar warping for only a second. Your lip catches between your teeth before you push it away.

“That’s bold.” John scoffs, a twitch in his brow.

“Not gonnae take a free drink, bon?” Johnny teases, batting at your arm. “He’s no’ half bad lookin’. I’d take a bite.”

“I don’t take drinks from strange men.” You snap, a little harsher than you meant as you push the glass even further. “You can have it if you want.”

There’s a beat where you keep your eyes square on the table, waiting for an insistence that you take it, that you talk to him, that you just do what he wants because he seems nice enough. That you’ve ruined the mood by being sensitive, like you always do. Instead, Johnny grabs the glass and downs whatever fruity cocktail was inside.

“Alright, if I pass out ye have t’ carry me now.” He laughs, the conversation returning to the same pace as before. You just look up at him for a moment - his eyes bright and unwavering.

The more you’re with them, the more guilt you feel for doubting them in moments like this - but, equally, the more unreal they seem. Too perfect of men for you to have stumbled across. Too good for something as damaged as you. There’s a pang of loneliness at the thought.

You’re one again pulled from your thoughts - well, redirected, more like - when John’s arm comes to rest around the back of the booth behind Kyle, fingers brushing against your shoulder ever so slightly. You’d been noticing it more recently - John’s tendency to hover. He doesn’t cling like Johnny but he stays just a hair away. Fingers ghost over your arms and a hand hovers over your back. Sometimes he holds the back of your seat, leaning over you while looking at the appointment book, that wafting scent of leather and petrichor enveloping you.

He doesn’t look at you, talking across the table to Simon about some business thing. At least you think, you really hadn’t been listening. Maybe you should have.

“We should go check out that new place up the street.” Kyle announces, scrolling through his phone. “They’ve got great room for dancin’, apparently.”

“Is dancin’ the mood for the night?” Simon sighs, tilting his head forward. Even without the mask his expression remains placid. Difficult to read.

“Aye!” Johnny wraps an arm firmly around your shoulders. “We’ve got t’ take our little lass out on the town!”

You scoff, cheeks warming at the idea that you’re theirs. Their lass - their girl. Fuck that last drink really good to you, huh?

Johnny walks with an arm sling around Kyle’s waist ahead of you, John laughing and shaking his head at them. Simon hangs back a bit as you walk, taking small, slow steps to stay beside you with his hands in his pockets. The same as when he walks you home every night you close together. You silently revel in the safety of it - of having this massive man in your shadow to block out everything else. You risk glancing up at his face - so new to you despite knowing each other for weeks. His skin glows in the passing street lights.

So not fair that he’s been hiding lips that kissable.

That’s totally the drinks talking.

“Y’alright?” He murmurs, glancing down at you.

You jump a bit, not realizing you’d been staring, eyes wide and hazy. Since when we’re you such a lightweight? “Yeah.”

“Still bothered about that guy?”

You blink. In all honesty, you’d completely forgotten him. Too busy enjoying your time with your boys. Your boys. Your boys. Their girl. That feels really good.

“No.” You shake your head and grin. “Sorry for being weird about it.”

“Y’weren’t.” Simon shakes his head solemnly, lapsing into a comfortable silence as you walk. It’s made up for by Johnny’s forceful cover of Pink Pony Club.

The place is packed when you get there, Simon having to use his bulky form to push through and secure you all a standing table. Not that you really need it, it’s mostly so the four of you can do a few shots - as per Johnny and Kyle’s insistence. Yours too, but it’s more fun to use them as an excuse to down two green tea shots back to back. You’ve never been good at saying no anyway.

“C’mon, luv.” Kyle herds you toward the dance floor and you follow, not unaware of Johnny right at your back. Your head buzzes, the world feeling loose and slow and comfortable around you. That wall you might otherwise have up long gone as you’re safely pinned between two of your favorite boys.

Kyle’s hands trail down your sides to knead at your hips, guiding them to move in tandem with his. Johnny presses closer to your front, hooking your arms up around his neck. If you were any more sober, you might have thought twice about the way you grind back against Kyle and press your chest into Johnny - your coworkers - but as it stands you couldn’t care less. Your body buzzes with a comfortable warmth, the music seems to course through your veins. It’s so easy to let them guide you, to melt into them, to tilt your head back onto Kyle’s chest and grin up at Johnny’s big blue eyes.

It’s the loosest you’ve felt in a long, long time

Johnny says something you can’t hear, his head ducking and lips grazing the shell of your ear. A touch starved part of you wants to whine, to throw yourself into him and burrow into his chest. Bury yourself right between his ribs - surely it’s warm in there. The very sun itself housed where his heart should be.

Maybe you’re reaching the water-only time of the night.

You tilt your head, half-lidded eyes making contact with Simon’s. They’re boring into you, seemingly memorizing the way you three move against each other. Each step and sway stored away for future reference. Surely it’s in your imagination.

Eventually, you shuffle around - trading yourself for Kyle as John’s big hands come to rest respectfully on your waist. The music slows a bit, at least, making it easier to dance with your boss without feeling like you’re crossing a boundary. Not that you would mind crossing that boundary. You’d leap over it if you could - those pretty blue eyes smiling down at you in the multicolor bar light. Leather and petrichor fill your nose. There’s a spice to it that isn’t usually there. Your drunkenness sets your fingers alight as they trace up his strong arms to rest on his shoulders.

“Glad y’came tonight, dove.” John says, barely having to shout over the music. His voice just has that commanding timber to it that makes itself heard no matter the circumstance.

You give him a crooked grin. “Me too.”

John just hums, swaying you carefully. People don’t do this, a small part of you thinks. Don’t dance with their bosses. You look down to where you’re pressed together. It feels good, though. You wonder if you’re more to him than an employee - if he considers you a friend despite your inequalities of age and rank.

“Is it silly to say that I’m really happy?” You mutter, not expecting John to hear over the music.

“Not at all.” He shakes his head, dipping lower so you can hear him more clearly. “I’m very grateful that we get to have you.”

Somehow your face gets hotter and in an attempt to calm down you glance over his shoulder to where Simon still stands, leaned against the wall with a glass in hand. His eyes rake over the crowd, sometimes resting on Johnny and Kyle, sometimes you and John, sometimes they seem to just look off into the distance. A woman walks up to him. She’s pretty. Tall with dark hair. You can’t see her face - can’t tell what she says. A slimy, nosy little part of you doesn't like it, despite having no right to an opinion. Simon’s expression remains flat as he responds and she stomps away.

You turn back to John. “Does Simon not dance?”

John chuckles. “Rarely.”

You pout. “I hate that he’s all alone.”

“He’s fine, love. Promise.”

“I’m gonna ask him.”

“Good luck.” John laughs, letting you push your way out of the crowd as the current song comes to an end.

“Si!” You call loudly over the music, movements sloppy.

“Hm?” He cocks a brow.

You lock your hands around his wrist like a child trying to pull their parent toward some bright thing that caught their eye. He doesn’t pull away like a more sober you might expect. “Come dance with me!”

“I don’t dance.” He scoffs.

“Please?” You beg, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. Not nearly as effective as Johnny’s but they’ll have to do.

“No.” Even in your drunken state you notice the corner of his mouth quirk up before he forces it back down.

“You can’t stand over here all night!”

“Watch me.” Simon huffs.

You pout and let your fingers drift over his forearm, all muscle and so very vascular. His skin is warm under your hands, the ridges of scars dancing across the pads of your fingers - invisible to the eye under his tattoos.

“Well, then, I’ll just have to do what you like to do!” You say with a discerning nod, clambering up onto the stool at the table beside him.

He frowns. “Don’t let me take you away-“

“I don’t wanna leave you alone!” You continue to pout, the cotton in your head only making things fuzzier outside of your new single minded goal: Hang Out with Simon.

He looks you over for a moment, something passing through those dark eyes of his. They’re so mysterious - so deep. Like the Mariana Trench. That’s the really big one, right?

Simon sighs and downs the last of whatever golden drink was in his glass, setting it on the table beside you. “Fine. I’ll give you one song.”

You’re practically preening as you pull him into the crowd, hand firmly around his thick wrist. Part of you briefly acknowledges a few jabs from Johnny and Kyle as you pass them on their way toward the bar.

A squeak escapes you as Simon suddenly turns you around, pulling you close and leading you to the beat. He’s good. Weirdly good. You feel a bit like a floundering fish all of a sudden. It definitely doesn’t help that you’re a lot more drunk than you felt five minutes ago. He smells like spice, too.

“So much for can’t dance!” You laugh.

“I said I don’t dance, bird. Nothin’ about can’t.” An arm loops around your waist, suddenly twisting to dip you low - holding your weight so easily. You fall into a giggling fit, face hot as you playfully push at his chest.

As the night goes on, things get fuzzier. Blurred. There’s one last shot with Johnny and Kyle and all you know is an overwhelming sense of joy.

A/N: Don’t love love this part but it’s cute and this is supposed to be my easy to write fic so I’m not stressing about it. Suuuuper excited for the next couple parts tho🤭

2K notes · View notes

perlelune · 1 year ago

Text

Hunger | Coriolanus Snow

From the moment your husband introduces to President Snow, you're untethered, as if the very floor was ripped from underneath you.

Warnings: NON-CON, District 12! Reader, Covey! Reader, Housewife Kink, Manipulation, Somnophilia, Breeding Kink, Chasing

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Nervousness wrenches your insides as you peer at the proceedings from afar. Another gala to raise funds in order to quell a budding rebellion in the Districts. The second one this year.

They always leave you feeling sour. It’s not like the Districts have no reason to start an uprising. The next reaping is fastly approaching and you’d rage too if your family was to go through that again.

You take a tiny sip from your glass of posca, mindful not to overindulge. The diluted, aromatic wine is far stronger than one would imagine. But a slight dash of intoxication is the only way you can see yourself getting through the night. Crowds always made you anxious, but a gathering of Capitol citizens stirs a particular discomfort in you.

You’re not one of them and you often wonder if they can tell, sense a whiff of District 12 on you. The foul stench of unbelonging. Perhaps in the manner you speak or your stance. You’ve never managed to perfectly mimic the way Capitol ladies carry themselves, born from a lifetime of practicing poise and etiquette. After all, you are an outsider, and always will be.

Regardless of how many galas you attend, fashionable dresses you order to match the quickly changing trends of the Capitol, effort you exert to erase your thick Covey accent…it seems someone can always tell there’s more to you.

It’s in that mocking glint in their eyes, that sneering lilt in their voice.

To them, you’ll never be more than District rabble.

Which is exactly why you despise these events. But your husband insisted. He’s working hard to impress his boss, the most important man in all of Panem, and you can’t let him down.

You must be the picture of charm. Laugh at every joke, nod your head when a serious topic is being broached, display interest when personal stories are being shared.

You place a hand on your roaring stomach, a frown creasing your brow. You haven’t swallowed a bite the entire day, too anxious about how tonight would go.

Your gaze darts about the room. The tantalizing spread of appetizers in the middle of the room seems to be calling your name. Your mouth waters.

Without a thought, your feet glide across the marble tiles. A little self-conscious, hesitation tingles at your fingertips as they drum by one of the silver platters. Another pang of hunger pierces your insides at the sight of the food. You cave in, picking up a tiny sandwich from a plate. Your eyes close, angels singing in your mouth as delicious aromas trickle on your tongue.

“Sweetie, there’s someone you must meet,” your husband chimes at your back.

Still chewing on a mouthful of meat and bread, you whirl. Your eyes bulge. Startled, you nearly suffocate on your food.

You quickly wipe your mouth as heat rushes to your cheeks.

You’ve seen his face before. The murky screens do not do justice to his dashing looks.

“President Snow. It’s a pleasure. Apologies, I was…”

A smile ghosts over his lips as he drinks you in, his cerulean gaze dragging over your frame. “No apologies,” he answers silkily. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the food. At least someone is.”

He picks up your hand and presses an ephemeral peck on the back of it. You turn to Henry. The shock adorning your husband’s face mirrors yours.

President Snow’s lips curl skywards.

He lets go of your hand and adds, “It’s nice putting a face to your name. Henry is always raving about you.”

You shake your head, eyes bashfully finding the floor. “Oh, I’m sure he isn’t,” you mumble.

The blonde hums as if to disagree. He bends close to your ear.

“He’s always lauding what a wonderful wife you are, dutiful, sweet…”

…Makes me almost jealous.

Your head whips up.

You blink at the whispered words, barely above a breath. Maybe you heard wrong. It’s hard to tell, the way Snow gauges you, that subtle smile still decorating his handsome face.

He asks you trivial questions about how you’re settling in and how you’re enjoying your life in the Capitol. You answer every time, ignoring the chill dancing at the base of your spine.

His scrutiny swells your unease.

So as soon as the conversation veers away from you and towards the topics of lawmaking and taxes, you snatch the opportunity to excuse yourself.

You give an apologetic smile to your husband.

“Henry, maybe I should go. I’m not feeling too hot.”

He scowls at you. “You want us to leave already?” Disappointment bleeds in his tone. A thick layer of shame settles in the pit of your stomach. You’re being a bad wife.

“You can stay, even if I go,” you try to offer.

“There’s still so many people we haven’t talked to…” Henry argues.

You deflate. You suppose it would be uncouth to leave too early.

To your surprise, President Snow’s smooth lilt interjects, “If your wife is unwell, you both should go.”

You gape at him. A strange glint bounces in his cerulean orbs and unease flutters through you once more.

Henry sighs, grabbing your hand.

“Alright. I’ll go fetch the car.”

He gives the blond a formal salute before dragging you away.

As the two of you leave, the heat of Snow’s attention prickles along your spine.

“Did he say something to you?”

Gasping, you turn to your husband. He pointedly looks at you and you shift awkwardly in the passenger seat.

“What?” you say, taken aback by his sudden question.

He studies you for a while before his gaze drifts back to the road.

“Snow. He said something to you, didn’t he?”

Your chest clenches. Faking nonchalance, you shrug and reply lightly, “Just a joke but I didn’t understand it.”

The days soar by, humdrum and uneventful. You file away the strange moment at the gala and return to your everyday life. Henry occupies most of your time but when you’re not catering to him, you tend to the house and read. And during stolen moments…you play and sing. Henry doesn’t know, of course. It’s a life you left behind, or are supposed to at least.

You’re the wife of a Capitol official, not some District balladeer peddling song for coin.

But you can’t help it.

Singing reminds you of home. Of endless green meadows and lazy afternoons by the river. Your life from before may have been uncertain but you find yourself missing it at times. Missing the freedom to do and act as you pleased.

An orphan like so many others, the Covey were the only family you ever knew. Then you met Henry. Henry who spoke so sweetly to you and gazed at you with warm brown eyes. And he became your family. He didn’t care that you were from a District or that your manners were lacking. He embraced you.

And now you wish to support him in all that he does. Even if it means tossing away parts of yourself.

The front door cracks open, halting the path of the needle between your fingers. A smile blooms on your lips as you place Henry’s shirt on a nearby table. You can resume fixing the buttons on it later. You rise from the armchair and make your way to him. You help him out of his coat, noting the excitement radiating off his frame.

He’s not usually this ecstatic after a day of work. You tilt your head in puzzlement.

He hugs you before announcing, “We have a guest tomorrow, a very important guest.”

“Oh,” you reply, tamping down your concern. The apartment isn’t exactly ready for guests, much less important ones. The fridge needs to be stocked and the furniture requires thorough dusting.

“Yes, I was mentioning what a wonderful cook you are and he said he hasn’t had a home cooked meal in a while.”

“Who?” you ask, your curiosity peaking.

“President Snow,” Henry replies with a victorious grin.

Dread and confusion collide inside you. Why would President Snow visit you and your husband of all people? While Henry’s been rising in ranks quite fast, you can’t picture the leader of the country making time for people like you.

But you don’t voice these thoughts, instead you inquire, “Are you sure my cooking will be enough for him? His palate is used to those fancy meals at the Capitol.”

He cradles your face and plants a kiss on your forehead.

“Don’t doubt yourself, honey. You’re an amazing cook.”

“I just don’t want to let you down,” you confess, anxiously chewing on your lip.

“You won’t,” he assures. His chestnut gaze dives into yours. “This could be a great opportunity for us. Imagine what being close to Snow could do for our lives. He could promote me. We could even move to a bigger place.”

Your brows knit. “I love our place.”

Henry laughs. “Yes but the day we expand our family, you have to admit it’ll be a little small.”

You peer at your surroundings. Every corner of the little house harbors a beloved memory. You’d hate leaving it behind, but you suppose he’s right. You might outgrow it one day.

Henry frames your chin to draw your focus back to him.

“Just be yourself,” he says. “Your kind, sweet, wonderful self and all will be well.”

Nodding, you give a feeble smile.

“Understood.”

The next day is spent meticulously cleaning every inch of the house. For hours you’re anxious, wondering what to say or do, how to behave. You don’t have the natural wit and charm to impress someone like Coriolanus Snow. You keep worrying you’ll speak out of turn and embarrass Henry. Preparing dinner is the only time your mind is at rest. You stir the vegetables in the stew, smiling as the delectable scent fills your nostrils. It’s simmered for hours to create a rich flavor. It’s only your second time trying this recipe so you’re a bit nervous. Henry adored it but he’s your husband. You don’t know if President Snow’s delicate taste buds will find your meals to his liking.

You’re slightly more confident about your strawberry cake. While you struggled with it at first, the frosting never quite coming out the way you wanted, it’s now turned into one of your specialties.

The doorbell rings and you freeze. You glance up at the clock hanging near the stove. Already? Time has flown and you didn’t notice.

As you approach the door, you smooth out the wrinkles in your apron and straighten your spine. You take a deep breath before opening the door.

A wobbly smile cants your lips upwards.

“President Snow, it’s an honor,” you greet cheerfully.

The tall blond crosses the threshold after your husband. You take him in, trying to girdle your apprehension. He casts an imposing figure with his slicked back silver locks and tailored purple suit, the signature white rose pinned to his left breast pocket as always.

An aura of authority seems to follow him wherever he goes.

“Please, the honor is mine,” Snow says. His sky gaze roams across the living room. His expression is unreadable and you feel a bit self-conscious. It’s likely not as luxurious as what he’s used to. But to your surprise, he looks right at you and says, “What a lovely abode.”

His nose twitches as he hums, “I smell something heavenly, for me perhaps?”

You nod.

“I made beef stew.”

“Wonderful.”

Your cheeks warm at the compliment.

“Shall we sit?” Henry says, escorting him to the dining room.

You rush to the kitchen and throw your apron on a chair. Inhaling a lungful of nerve, you slip on gloves and grab the pot from the stove. Slowly, you bring out the food. Your skin tingles with the weight of Snow’s eyes on you.

You ladle out the stew on each plate. When you circle the table to serve Snow, you feel the faintest brush of fingertips over your hip. You flinch.

When you look at him, an almost imperceptible smile hovers on his lips. You blink and it almost seems like it’s gone, as if you dreamt the entire instant. The ladle wavers in your hand.

Did he mean to do that? Once again, you question your own senses, your sanity. It was a fleeting touch, the accidental kind that occurs everyday. But somehow your nerves are agitated with this mere, insignificant second.

Quickly, you round the table and plop down in the chair next to your husband. He squeezes your hand beneath the table, his brown gaze spelling “good job”. Relief sits inside you. You spent all day agonizing over every aspect of tonight so it’s nice to know Henry appreciates your efforts at least.

Everyone starts eating, your husband and Snow engaging in topics you only listen to with half an ear. Instead you focus on your plate, swallowing tiny bites of the stew.

The flavor is nice and rich, just like you hoped, and pride trickles inside you.

“You’re so silent. Are we boring you?”

Snow’s abrupt statement yanks a sharp gasp from you. Your head snaps up. You realize both he and Henry are staring at you. Your face warms.

“N-No, I just don’t have anything interesting to contribute,” you stammer, your head dipping.

“My wife has no mind for politics, I’m afraid,” Henry chuckles.

Your mouth screws shut, your fingers tightening around your spoon. It’s more that your opinions differ vastly and there are things Henry prefers you don’t say aloud.

A crooked smirk blooms on Snow’s lips.

“Ah, a pretty, silent one. I believe you lucked out with this one, Henry.”

Your teeth grind as your brows twitch. Pretty and silent. You don’t know why the words chafe you, cutting into you as deep as a knife.

You rise from your chair and grab your near empty plate.

“I should go clean the kitchen,” you announce with a terse smile.

You don’t look back as you walk away, berating yourself with every step.

This isn’t how one should behave in front of him. But you also don’t think you can spend another second in his presence.

You rub the sponge over the top of the stove, satisfaction trickling inside you as the grease and sauce stains are wiped away. You bask in the calm, concentrated on your task.

A warm breath tickles the shell of your ear.

“You seemed peeved before.”

Sucking a sharp breath, you whirl on your heels. Your hand spreads over your chest as your vision is filled with the towering frame of President Snow. His stance is relaxed as he peers at you curiously.

“You scared me…President.”

He ignores your reaction, continuing his statement from before, “When we were discussing the next reaping.”

You shake your head. “I wasn’t peeved.”

“Your face, it did that thing.” Your forehead creases. He inches closer. The scent of roses, thick and heady, coats your senses. Your head starts spinning. “Like now. It bothered you.”

Panic flutters through you. This is a man who could have you hanged or jailed for saying the wrong thing. But something about his expression tells you he won’t relent, that he'll only take the truth and nothing else.

So your heart spills out of you.

“In an ideal world, we wouldn’t need the Hunger Games. They are…” You trail off, remembering yourself, who you’re speaking to. You bite down your feelings and go quiet.

But Snow bends over you, crowding your space as your back hits the edge of the stove.

“What? Barbaric? Cruel?” He chuckles and goosebumps rise on your flesh. “But we do need them, dove. Every single year. So the districts never forget their place, and most importantly ours.”

Your lip quakes. Snow’s gaze follows the motion, his lips slanting lopsidedly.

“Such a sweet soul,” he whispers.

He suddenly backs away from you. Air rushes back to your lungs.

“It’s late. I should take my leave. Thank you for a most…enlightening dinner.”

You resume your life and, for a while, everything is normal. Henry doesn’t talk about that night again and neither do you, the both of you bonded by that silent agreement. Maybe he saw Snow talking to you in the kitchen, maybe he didn’t. You’ll never know as he keeps his thoughts to himself, throwing himself into his work and acting like his usual self.

And if there’s a bit more distance between the two of you in the marital bed, you try not to let it bother you. With time, the strangeness will fade and you and Henry will be back on track, trying for a child and enjoying marital bliss.

Though one evening, things are anything but normal. In fact, the world all but ends.

Your husband peruses the notice letter for rent once more. The blood seems to leave his face.

He runs his fingers through his dark curls.

“I don’t understand.”

Hands resting on his shoulders, your heart skips a beat as you read the neat printed letters.

Rent in your building has doubled overnight. If you and your husband do not pay up by next week, you will be evicted. Houseless.

Hell, you might even be sent back to your district. Your heart plummets to your feet. Your knees buckle underneath you. Henry catches you before you fall, leading you to the sofa as panicked breaths rush through your lungs.

He hunkers in front of you and holds your hands.

“I promise you I’ll find a way. Take out a loan or-”

“A loan we won’t be able to pay back?”

His jaw clenches. “Just let me handle it, okay?”

Though doubts creep inside you, you nod.

The days race along, tension growing each day as the deadline is approaching. Only three days. In just three days, you and your husband will be evicted unless a miracle happens.

And you conclude from the dark circles under Henry’s eyes and the way he barely answers when you speak to him, that he’s as clueless as you are.

There is no solution. Once again, the Capitol and its arbitrary rules strike.

So you come to a decision.

A decision that leads you in front of the biggest mansion in the entire Capitol. President Coriolanus Snow’s house. You suck in a wide lungful, quelling a shudder at the sight of the blue-clad peacekeepers lining the walls.

You stride towards the massive entrance gates. White roses twine around the wrought iron, their thorns seeming as sharp as knives.

You gather your nerves and lift a tremulous hand towards the intercom.

Before you can even state your matter, a disembodied, feminine voice rises from the device.

“Do you have an appointment?” the woman asks stiffly.

Hasty words pour out of you. “No, but I just need a minute-”

“President Snow doesn’t accept any visitors,” she responds harshly.

Your heart sinks. Of course he doesn’t. It was naive of you to cling to the illusory hope he’d see you anyway. Just for one dinner he likely forgot about. He’s the president. There are crucial matters that perpetually call for his attention. A myriad of things bigger and more important than a single Capitol citizen’s rent issues.

Still, you elect to try again, remembering the imminent deadline.

“Please,” you beg. “It’s very important.”

A distorted sigh ripples from the intercom.

“If you do not leave the premises, we will be compelled to remove you from the property, miss.”

One of the peacekeepers posted at the gates looks straight at you, his hand tightening over the rear of his machine gun. A wave of ice spreads through your veins.

You swallow and step back, accepting your defeat. Burning with shame, you start walking away from the mansion.

But you’re hardly a feet away, as the same voice from before erupts again, much softer this time.

“My apologies, miss. I didn’t realize you were a close friend of President Snow.”

Your jaw hangs slack as you turn.

A woman with long dark hair appears through the open gates.

“Please, follow me,” she says as she approaches you. “The president will see you right away.”

Still steeped in utter shock, you acquiesce. You trail behind her. You can’t help but allow your eyes to wander as the woman escorts you through a dizzying series of hallways. While the front of the mansion is impressive with its lavish gardens and striking architecture, the inside is just as grandiose. You feel small as your gaze rests on all the sculptures and paintings decorating every corner of the house. Everywhere you look, there is something beautiful and eye-catching. The entire house is like a museum, meant to be admired rather than lived in.

Eventually the woman halts in front of a mahogany door. She tugs on the brass handles and stands to the side, making room for you to walk in. You mumble ‘thank you’ under your breath as you stumble inside the office.

President Snow’s blue eyes crinkle when they rest on you.

“Hello, dove. Why don’t you have a seat?” he offers, pointing at the chair before his desk.

Licking your lips, you do as he says. Despite the softness of the plush upholstery you sit on, your nerves flare up. You had an entire speech ready, one you practiced on the way here.

But now that you’re here, his intense focus pinned on you, you’re at a loss.

Shaky words trickle out of your mouth.

“President Snow. I know you must be so busy…”

“Nonsense,” he interrupts, leaning back in his leather chair. “I always find time for my friends.”

You swallow the lump in your throat.

“T-That’s a relief to hear,” you stammer.

A maid brings a kettle and biscuits on a silver platter.

“Tea?” Snow asks as he picks up the kettle.

“No, thank you.”

As Snow pours himself a cup, you ponder your next words. You don’t want to seem greedy but you can’t think of an elegant way to state your purpose.

So you settle for the truth.

“I came because…my husband and I are in a bit of trouble.”

Snow scrutinizes you for a while. Your stomach tightens.

He then gives a sluggish nod, bending forwards as his fingers lace together.

“Do tell me everything, dove.”

You do exactly that. Snow is silent as your trembling voice fills his office. No word leaves his mouth while he listens. You don’t skip out a single detail, making a point to emphasize what consequences could befall upon you and your husband should you fail to meet the deadline.

When you’re done, he sips from his tea cup and hums, “How unfortunate.”

“Can’t it be undone? I mean, couldn’t you…”

He chuckles along the porcelain rim of his cup. “I��m not responsible for every law and charter. I approve them, of course, but there are committees, councils. Each law serves the betterment of Panem as a whole. I can’t undo what has been done. I mean, how would this look to the rest of the Capitol? Like I have a different set of rules for my friends? I have to look impartial.” Heaving out a deep sigh, he sets his cup down. “Apologies, dove, my hands are tied.”

The world seems to collapse around you. Your stomach sinks.

You surmise it was too big an ask, even for the President of Panem. You can’t expect special treatment. It was silly of you to even come hoping for anything resembling that.

You were foolish. Now you must collect the pathetic remnants of your dignity and take your leave.

Gulping down the tears pressing at the back of your eyes, you nod.

“I’m sorry I asked,” you croak, already beginning to rise from your chair.

His deep lilt pauses your motion.

“But I suppose…there could be a solution. An alternative.”

Your brow furrows as you drop back on the chair.

“An alternative?”

“I could cover the difference.”

Your mouth nearly hits the floor. Snow using his own funds to help? It could be the very miracle you and your husband waited for. You would have to pay him back over time, of course. But for now, it would allow you and Henry to keep the apartment.

It’s a godsend.

“You would do that for us?” you mutter, shock stealing your air.

His reply is nonchalant. “Yes. I’d simply file it under my own personal investments.” Slanting his head sideways, he studies you. “I’d just ask for a small favor in exchange.”

“A favor?”

You wonder what kind of favor you could do for someone like Coriolanus Snow, the man who has everything and more. Gaping at him, you wait for him to elaborate.

He leans forward, crossing his arms over his desk.

“It’s not much but it would mean the world to me. The house needs some upkeep. Just a few light chores here and there. No cleaning, of course; I have an entire staff in charge of that. But the garden needs tending.” His inflection softens as he takes you in. “A home cooked meal every now and then would be nice, and I might sometimes ask you to join me for tea and conversation…” Mirth sways in his cerulean orbs. “As dreadful as that may sound.”

You move your head in assent.

“I think I can do that. But w-why me?”

He gives a long exhale, resting his jaw in his hand.

“Honestly dove? You’d be the one doing me a favor. All day, I’m surrounded by vultures.” Snow rolls his eyes skyward. “Sycophants who placate me with false smiles and honeyed lies.” His tone warms when his gaze falls back on you. “I simply wish to return home to someone genuine, someone who would never lie to me. And you wouldn’t, would you?”

“W-What?”

“Lie to me.”

Your skin heats under his scrutiny.

Trying not to squirm, you sputter, “Never, sir.”

“Music to my ears,” the young president croons.

It’s not sounding like more work than what you do at home. You can already hear Henry’s discontent echoing in your head. You won’t have as much time for him. That too will be yet another adjustment.

But what other option is there? Even the family of four above yours had to move, unable to keep up with the sudden rent increase. You and Henry could be next.

“I…W-When do I start?”

The corners of Snow’s lips tug upwards.

“How does tomorrow sound?”

“You’re going to work for him?”

Henry’s displeasure ripples through you. You twine your hands and cast him an apologetic look. He despises that you went behind his back; you know that. But Henry ran himself ragged trying to come up with a solution. You didn’t want him to carry the burden on his own. That is not what a marriage is.

“He needs a housekeeper, of sorts. And he paid this month’s rent and the next upfront.”

Henry’s brows crumple. “Still, that’s…” Shoulders sagging, he crashes onto the sofa. The built-up exhaustion of the last few days seems to return all at once. You know he hasn’t slept a wink this whole week. Heart squeezing, you join his side and cradle his hand in your lap. Henry’s voice is dripping with shame and regret. “The entire reason I moved us here is so you never have to want for anything, so you wouldn’t have to work or suffer another day in this life.” His head dips. “I failed you.”

You cup his face, plunging your eyes into his.

“You didn’t fail me. And I won’t suffer. Sometimes life throws you lemons and you just have to squeeze those suckers dry.”

A hollow chuckle slips through his lips.

You run your thumbs over his growing beard.

"Listen, I know this wasn’t in our plans, but it’s just for now. In time, we’ll figure something out but I have to do this.” You lean your forehead against his. “For us.”

“Okay,” he belatedly concedes. He pulls your hands to his chest, kissing your knuckles.

“Just come home when you’re done.”

“I will,” you promise.

The first day slogs forth without a hitch. A car picks you up in the morning and drops you off at President Snow’s estate. The dark-haired woman from before welcomes you, introduces you to the staff and walks you through your duties. You learn her name is Ariadne.

You spend most of the day busy in the garden and library. Snow’s garden of roses might be one of the hidden treasures of Panem. Taking care of it is a pleasure and you even give yourself some minutes to bask in the sun’s warmth.

The library shelves need dusting and you tend to this task as well, humming familiar tunes to yourself while working. It is no harm if no one is around to hear you sing.

You don’t get bored as there’s always a task requiring your attention in the massive house.

When stars begin to dust the darkening sky, you rush to the kitchen. You get started on dinner. Staff members give you space to work and you’re grateful. You don’t like being ogled while you cook. You marvel at the gold, high-end appliances as you knead your dough. The kitchen is pristine, like everything else in the house. You settle for something simple, hearty and warm. There is no point in pretending you’re some fancy chef when you’re not. If it’s what Snow desired, he’d have hired one. There’s a plethora of them in the Capitol for him to choose from after all. And they’d all line up outside his house in a heartbeat if he requested it.

You stand nervous, hands folded in your lap as the meal you prepared is brought out onto silver plates. You spent hours on it. Hopefully he likes it.

“This smells like heaven,” Snow purrs.

He then points at the chair next to his on the long table.

“Have a seat.”

Your eyes bulge. Not only are you stunned by his request, as there are so many other chairs on the gigantic dinner table, but you were hoping to return home to Henry once dinner was served.

“Oh, I thought…”

He smiles at you. “I hate dining alone.”

You consider arguing. But as you remember all that you owe him, your mouth squeezes shut. You give a meek nod and drag your feet to the chair.

“Of course.”

You pick up your knife and fork…one of the knives and forks. You choose at random, unsure what purpose each of the cutlery items serves.

A smile waltzes upon Snow’s lips as he watches you. Shame pools in your gut. You feel like you’re making a fool of yourself.

He takes a bite of food and hums low in his throat, his eyes closing.

“Your cooking never fails to amaze, dove,” he lauds. Blue eyes search your face. “Are you hiding other talents from me?”

Your eyes lock onto your napkin, following the swirl of the flower patterns sewn in the corners. “I don’t think so,” you mumble.

Dinner continues in silence, only occasionally shattered by Snow’s sounds of delight and words of praise. Your own bites are small. While you’re glad it turned out the way you wanted, you’d rather save your appetite for home.

When a maid brings tea after the meal, Snow raises a dismissive hand.

“We’ll have tea and cakes in the study,” he announces.

Your face scrunches. “But it’s getting late. I should-”

“I must insist,” he interrupts. He rises from his seat and offers you his outstretched hand.

His smile broadens.

“You would rob me of your company so swiftly, dove? How cruel of you.”

Reluctantly, you accept the hand he gives you. He helps you out of your chair and motions at you to follow him.

The both of you end up in his study, sitting by the fire. Tea is placed on the small table between you. Coriolanus takes a slow sip while you fiddle with your hands.

His cerulean gaze locks with yours.

“That song you were humming earlier.”

Your chest seizes.

The loud thudding of your heart fills your ears. You swallow thickly.

“A song?”

“Yes,” he says absently, adding another spoonful of sugar to his cup. He gives a small stir before bringing it to his lips again. “I heard it as I walked by the library.”

You try not to let your panic show, cloaking yourself in false nonchalance. You thought you were discreet, quiet almost.

“Ah, that. It’s nothing,” you elude.

“No, it was lovely. You have the voice of an angel.”

The compliment leaves you speechless.

But his next words tie your stomach in knots.

“I want to hear it again.”

“I don’t really…perform for audiences.”

“You mean since you left the Covey?”

Mouth agape, you stare at him. How did he find out? You don’t remember ever bringing it up. In fact, you wouldn’t. You expend great effort to hide your past on a daily basis.

Your reaction draws a snort from him. Amusement bounces in his orbs.

“Come on, dove, that accent…It might fool others but not me.”

“I don’t sing anymore,” you state firmly.

Even if you did, you wouldn’t do it for Coriolanus Snow. Not of your own free will.

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His inflection becomes sharp, all softness evanescing. “Remember when I told you that I hated lies?” His pointed gaze sends chills through your body. “Sing for me, dove.”

Your mouth goes dry as sand.

You understand his words for what they are. An order from your president. A strange order…but an order nonetheless.

You don’t get to refuse. You’re to sing for him, whether it pleases you or not.

Like a bird in a cage.

So you do it. Your lips fall open and clear, soft notes rise out of you. A traditional song your mother taught you. It tells the story of a girl who meets a boy with ocean eyes, how she drowns in them but the fall is like rising to heaven.

As your voice fills his office, Snow’s scorching gaze doesn’t leave you.

When the song is done, he doesn’t applaud or praise you.

Instead, his eyes bear into you for what feels like an eternity. You try not to move, though your heart thunders in your chest.

“See, was that so hard?” he asks, that cocky smile still adorning his lips. You don’t reply, your throat ablaze. It felt as if you didn’t belong to yourself just then. And it terrifies you. He slides your untouched cup towards you. “Drink your tea before it gets cold. Then, you can go home.”

Without a protest, you lift the cup to your mouth. One measly cup of tea and you’ll get to go home. Then this uncomfortable evening can end. Finally.

But as the liquid trickles inside your mouth, tendrils of darkness lurk in your vision. Your body gets heavier. So heavy you can’t hold the cup anymore, or even yourself. The porcelain dish vanishes from your hands. You sag into your chair.

Progressively, colors dim around you.

Then sleep drags you down into a rabbit hole of utter oblivion. And all is blackness.

Softness like you’ve never felt before greets you when you awake. Like being embraced by fluffy clouds. For a while, you linger in the comfortable sensation, humming against the plush blankets. But as your eyes land on the thin slice of sunlight spilling from the window, you unleash an audible gasp.

You bolt in a sitting position.

Your eyes widen as you find Ariadne observing you between the velvet curtains at the end of the bed.

Gripping the side of your head, you glance at your surroundings. Clearly, you’re in a room. But how did you wind up here? No matter how hard you try, you can’t summon a single memory from last night.

“Ariadne? What happened?”

She circles the bed to take a seat next to you. Her gentle tone alleviates your rising panic.

“You fell asleep,” she explains. “Master Snow brought you here so you can get some proper rest.”

You sigh. It does make sense. Though you can’t stamp out the trickle of embarrassment sitting inside you with that knowledge. You dozed off on the job, on your first day. Hopefully, Snow isn’t too offended.

“I must have been more tired than I thought,” you mutter, looking down.

“He’s gone now; he had urgent business at the Justice Building. But he insisted you eat a proper meal before you go.” She points at the golden food cart near the bed, every tray brimming with pastries, fruits, meats and cheeses. Way more than you could eat in a single meal.

The kind of decadent abundance the Capitol likes to indulge in.

You politely decline.

“I can’t…I have to return to my husband. He must be worried sick.”

Ariadne puts a hand on your arm.

“Word has been sent to him that you were simply tending to Master Snow’s needs last night.”

You purse your lips. It’s not ideal but at least he knows you were working.

“Good,” you reply, nodding.

You yank the blanket off your body, determined to stand up and leave. But as soon as you’re on your feet, you crash back down on the bed, a strange ache awakening in your limbs.

Your forehead creases. You hug your stomach, a vicious cramp creeping there too.

Ariadne’s immediately at your side, placing her hands over your arms.

“Take it easy, miss,” she warns. “You exerted yourself a great deal yesterday.” She beams brightly. “In fact, Master Snow has given you a few days off. He was very satisfied with your work and expects you in three days’ time.”

Your brows rise. “Oh, that’s very generous.”

Her grin expands.

“He is exceedingly pleased with your performance.”

Over the next few weeks, Snow keeps summoning you sporadically. The days you work for him are pretty much the same. You attend to your daily tasks, you cook for him and then the two of you have tea in his study. He has you sing for him sometimes. You’ve learnt to swallow your feelings and perform according to his whim. You don’t even sing to yourself anymore, the exultation you drew from it all but gone. It was a way to stay connected to your Covey roots, to keep your family close to your heart. Now you can’t do it without his icy gaze invading your thoughts.

You often end up incredibly tired on those days, your body aching and sore for hours afterwards. You never imagined working for Coriolanus Snow would drain you so much. Falling asleep in his house even turns into a regular occurrence, happening almost every time you show up for work.

Naturally, Henry isn’t thrilled with that. Every time you come back home, too tired to wait on him hand and foot like you used to, his displeasure grows.

But he’s also yet to find a way to fix the issue, so the two of you must keep working. You’ve already sold everything that you could, clothes, any belonging of slight value.

The gap is still too vast.

And the city won’t allow you to apply for another place to live, claiming the waitlist is already sky-high.

Though you resent it, Coriolanus Snow is your only hope.

“You’re not in charge of dinner tonight,” Ariadne announces one night as you fire the stove.

You turn the burners off, your eyes rounding.

“I’m not?”

A bright smile blooms on the brunette’s face.

“Master Snow is inviting you to dine with him as his guest, to express gratitude for your outstanding work.”

Your lips part in surprise. In the many weeks you’ve worked for President Snow, this has never happened. You have shared meals, of course, but you’ve never received such a formal invitation.

You suppose it’s all a game to Snow, and he simply changes the rules whenever he feels it.

She astonishes you further when she urges you to follow her to one of the guest bedrooms.

Utter dismay fills you.

A white dress lies atop the bed. The sleeveless evening gown looks more expensive than any dress you’ve ever laid eyes on. The delicate white silk flares at the waist, the gigantic, fluffy layered skirt making your head spin already. You imagine how hard it'd be to move in such a dress. Though you surmise it won’t be too much of a concern as you only need to sit through dinner with it.

“Master Snow expects you to wear this tonight,” Ariadne chimes.

She helps you slip on the dress, a task you undoubtedly would have struggled to complete on your own, the many layers of tulle, silk and lace of the huge skirt alone their own challenge.

Eventually, you’re dressed.

She escorts you to the dinner room. Curious eyes dart about the halls, noting their unusual emptiness. Not a single footman, maid or Avox in sight.

You’re alone.

“The house is very quiet,” you point out.

Ariadne beams at you from above her shoulder.

“The entire staff’s been sent home. Master Snow wants to wait on you himself tonight.”

Your stomach knots, a foreboding feeling swelling within you.

Still, you glide forward. It’s a little late to turn back.

When you enter the diner room, Snow’s face lights up. He makes his way to you. As usual, he’s dashing, his platinum blonde locks neatly combed back and his crimson suit highlighting his tall frame.

His gaze twinkles as he drinks you in.

“You’re a vision, dove.” He lifts your hand and brushes his lips over your knuckles. His eyes slam into yours. Time seems to hang still for a few seconds. “As I know you would be.”

Keeping your hand in his, he escorts you to your seat. He pulls your chair for you and you fumble with your skirt a little before finding a comfortable way to sit.

“So…no maids today?” you say lightly.

His lips slant. He removes the lid off one of the pots. The mouthwatering smell instantly reaches you.

“I thought it’d be nicer to enjoy a quiet, private dinner together, as a way to celebrate.”

Your face contorts into a puzzled expression.

“Celebrate?”

“Your last day as my housekeeper,” he replies cheerfully.

Your heart misses a beat. Is he firing you?

You attempt to tamp down the quake in your voice. You fail miserably.

“Really?”

He gauges you and his smile grows.

“Yes. In fact, you and your husband will never have to worry about rent anymore. Him especially. Everything’s settled.”

An audible exhale slips through your mouth.

“This is…I don’t know what to say.”

“You can say thank you.”

“Thank you, President Snow.”

His laugh resonates in the near empty dining room.

“Please, call me Coriolanus.” He ladles soup onto your plate before bending close. You tense as his warm breath ghosts over your temple. “We’re quite…close now, aren’t we, dove?”

You gulp down the lump in your throat.

“I suppose we are…Coriolanus.”

You wince. Uttering his name feels wrong, forbidden almost.

Satisfaction doesn’t part from his handsome features as he regains his seat. He gestures for you to start eating. You feel a bit self-conscious as he observes you intently.

Still, you do as he heeds, not needing to be told twice.

The quicker you eat, the quicker you’ll get to be home and out of the uncomfortable dress.

You groan as your lids flutter, a blurry shape rocking back and forth in your vision. Fatigue tugs at your heavy limbs as you stir. Your forehead scrunches. Your body’s hot, like a furnace, like you’re burning from the inside out. Tingles spark somewhere in you and you keen sharply, leaning into the sensation. Feverish whispers surround you, words you don’t comprehend in your daze.

The pull and tear. The pleasure mingling with the pain. You’re in a strange dream, maybe a nightmare.

Deep-chested grunts land in your ears. You awake further. It’s a voice you recognize, from somewhere…but not like this. Never like this. Something’s wong. Your forehead wrinkles. Something’s wrong but you’re so tired. So so tired. Your mind’s like cotton. Your limbs are as rocks.

As your lids sag, something slams into you. Fast, hard and vicious.

Your heart bounces. Your eyes snap open.

Your stomach drops.

A sinister smile you know too well by now welcomes you.

“Hello, dove. Awake, finally,” Snow whispers, his hips snapping into yours. Your breath catches as his cock grazes against your sweet spots. You clench around him and he chuckles darkly. “That angle always does it for you.” Smugness oozes off his hoarse timbre.

You look up at him. Sweat dots his brow, his tousled blonde locks clinging to his forehead. His blue eyes are cloudy with lust. His white shirt is half open, revealing a glimpse of the bare, glistening muscles underneath.

And as your gaze travels lower, horror flares inside you.

You gape with wide eyes as his veiny length disappears inside you. Again and again. The fluffy white shirt is bunched around your waist, your panties torn, exposing your lower body to President Snow’s lewd scrutiny entirely. His large hands dig into your hips, trailing crescent bruises in the shape of his fingernails.

Your shocked gaze finds his.

His smile expands.

“P-President Snow, what are you doing?”

You know it’s a stupid question…but you have to make sense of this. Because none of this can be real. Maybe it’s a nightmare and you’re still sleeping.

You gasp as he pushes you into the mattress, piledriving into you at an angle that has you seeing stars.

“Taking what’s mine, of course,” he says matter-of-factly, hooking his arm under your thigh.

He lifts you and spreads you even more. His darkened gaze follows the motion of his cock as he pounds into you, an insatiable look twisting his handsome features.

Reaching between your tangled bodies, he pinches your tender heap of nerves. He rubs against it, teasing it with maddening circles until your legs quake. You come apart beneath him, crying out as your back arches against the soft sheets.

“Please, stop,” you whimper, tears gathering in your eyes.

Snow’s pace quickens. Ragged moans tear from your throat. Your vision flickers.

He bends over you to lick one of your tears, humming in satisfaction at the taste.

His lips drag against yours as he asks, “Is it truly what you want? Because it’s kind of hard to tell the way your pussy hugs my cock.” His mouth curves upward against your cheek. “Like it does every time.”

A wave of ice spreads through you.

Every time? Realization hits you, knife-like as it pierces through the veil of denial.

Every time…

The pieces fall into place as you remember all those times you fell asleep, unable to recall how you ended up in bed. Tired, confused…sore.

A shudder shoots through your frame.

You twist your body as panic seizes you.

Coriolanus growls when you clamber away from him, heading for the edge of the bed. You curse the pesky gown and the way it hinders your movements.

He yanks you back with ease, gripping the back of your head and shoving you down into the mattress.

Lips graze your earshell as he snarls, “Where are you going? We’re not done. We have to make sure you carry the next Snow heir.” In one stroke, he sinks into you from behind. You choke on your breath, the pain snatching your air. With one hand cinched around the back of your neck, he starts rutting into you. Your bruised folds ache at the blunt invasion. Still, your core clings to him in a way that stirs shame in your gut. “Although after all these times…” You hear the smile in his conceited inflection “It’s a given, isn’t it?”

Your eyes swell with tears. Your lips part in a silent scream. The sick song of flesh against flesh fills the room, mingling with his feral moans.

Each time your walls tighten around him, bile rises up your throat.

“What have you done to me?” you sob against the drenched silk sheets.

“Oh, I think you know,” he purrs. His warm breath fans over your scalp. “You can feel it, can’t you? How well your body knows me now, dove.”

His hips stutter, his thrusts getting sloppier. His cock twitches inside you. As warmth trickles alongside your walls, you feel sick again. He remains nestled inside you a while, panting above you and shoving the excess back in as you remain still.

As you feel his digits poke and prod, a chill runs through you.

You can’t let him touch you again.

You keel over the edge of the bed, heading straight towards the floor. Pain ripples through your knees as they hit the carpet. You’re forced to ignore the crack resounding through your bones, awkwardly getting to your feet and dashing to the wooden swing doors.

Coriolanus’ wicked laugh echoes behind you.

“Oh, dove, if you wanted to play hide and seek, all you needed to do was to ask,” he taunts.

Terror grips your throat. You ignore it alongside everything else. Alongside the pain, alongside the uncertainty, alongside the fact that you can still feel him inside you. Like you never left the bed. Like you’re still caged in his embrace.

Your legs carry you, barefoot and panicked, as you run through the palatial hallways as fast as the bothersome white dress will allow.

The president’s deep voice bounces against the ornate walls.

“Ready or not, here I come, my darling.”

The blood rushes to your feet. Your head spins and your feet tangle. You trip. Immediately, you gather yourself. You lift the skirt and dive hastily towards the living room. You duck behind a sofa.

It’s a pathetic place to hide; you know it. But the lavish mansion is nothing but open spaces doused in sunlight.

There is nowhere to hide.

The clamor of your heart is deafening in your ears as you hear objects crash to the floor a few feet away from you. Hand over your mouth to keep every sound in, you jerk every time the racket grows on the other side of the sofa.

His frustration coats the air.

“Come out, come out wherever you are, dove,” he calls, his tone icier than before.

You freeze, holding your breath and wishing he doesn’t think to look where you are.

The minutes pass, agonizingly slow. The flimsy hope that he may have left even begins to bloom inside you.

Hot air suddenly breezes over your nape.

“Found you.”

Your heart leaps to your throat. You go still. Coriolanus hauls you from the floor, half-carrying you and half-lugging you across the living room. You try to bite and claw any part of him you can reach but his hand locks around your throat.

He slams you harshly against a wall. Your head rings, the lines of his face momentarily doubling in your vision. You bite his hand. Cursing under his breath, he bangs your head against the wall again. You go limp.

Through your hazy sight, you note the scarlet trail streaking the back of his hand. You drew blood. Even if you’re lost, you bask in the ephemeral second of victory.

He carries your unmoving form the rest of the way back to his bedroom. You loathe yourself for your stillness. You want to put up a fight. You want to claw. You want to bite. You want to kill him with your bare hands.

But all you can do is simmer in helplessness as he brings you right back to the very place you tried to escape.

He gently releases you on the bed then climbs over you. Goosebumps erect on your flesh as he caresses the side of your face, a strangely fond gesture considering everything he put you through.

“Please,” you mumble weakly. “You can have anyone you want. I have a husband.”

His face contorts into an expression of pure mockery, as if what you said was beyond ludicrous.

“I don’t want just anyone.” He lifts your chin, scorching blue gaze diving into yours. “I want you.”

“As for your husband…” His voice trails off as he traces your trembling bottom lip with his thumb. A crooked smirk drags his lips skyward. He leans over you to whisper, “Well I did say he’ll never have to worry about rent ever again, didn’t I?”

Your heart sinks. You can’t believe you trusted Coriolanus Snow. A foolish mistake. A dangerous mistake. One you’re now paying dearly. He not only trapped you…he also hurt Henry.

All because of you.

You will never forgive yourself.

“What did you do to him?” you ask, anger and heartbreak making your voice wobble.

A chill-inducing glint dances in his orbs.

“I haven’t done anything.” He cocks his head. “Rebels are criminals of the state and shall be sentenced as such.”

The world collapses around you.

A chasm of despair swallows you whole as quiet tears stream down your face.

As sobs shake your frame, President Snow plants soft kisses on your wet cheeks. You feel him grow hard against your belly as he hums, as if the taste of your hopelessness was ambrosia to him. Heavenly sweet.

He cups your face.

“Do not fret, dove. I’ll make sure you don’t miss a second of his execution.” The emptiness of his blue eyes staggers you, their depths as icy as a frozen lake. “It’s important for all citizens of Panem to learn from watching.”

The expression on his face turns downright diabolical. His knuckles sweep over the apple of your cheek.

“And I want you to learn as you watch the light go out in his eyes, dove, that this was inevitable, that I always win.”

His tone softens as his hands drag over your hips.

“I wonder how many children you’ll give me. Will they all sing as pretty as you?” The hurried rustle of his pants as he frees his cock freezes your blood. He bites his lip, lust already misting his gaze as he prods impatiently at your entrance.

“I suppose we’ll just have to find out,” he croons.

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #tbosas fanfiction #dark!coriolanus snow x reader

5K notes · View notes

yawnderu · 9 months ago

Text

ANGEL — John Price x Reader x Simon Riley

WC: 6,048 | Part I

Deep down, you knew Simon's way of telling you it's over between you was the moment he gave you his captain's number. Every single message you left Simon was left unanswered, not even opened most of the time, leaving you hoping that perhaps he was simply busy with his missions.

His deployments are oftentimes stressful from what you saw every time he came back home to you, yet you stopped convincing yourself everything was alright after 7 weeks of no contact. Simon Riley is not a coward— not unless it comes to feelings. You're too good for someone like him, someone who could drop dead at any moment, whose only achievements come from killing, forever tainting his hands with blood he can't seem to wash off no matter how many long showers he takes.

He rationalized for months, thought about it— thought about leaving you, too. Yet that lost puppy look of pure trust you gave him every single time he fucked into you, pretty moans leaving your parted lips and soft hands exploring his clothed body, desperately wanting to feel his bare skin against yours, something he never had the heart to give you. Too tainted, too scarred, too ugly. So like a broken man wanting to keep you safe, he did the best with what he had, leaving his captain's number on your night table the moment he was done cumming.

Over 2 months later, Simon still remembers the feeling of your warm skin beneath his lips, the look of pure vulnerability and love plastered on your face, so angelic and pretty, a sheer contrast to the nervousness on his, despite how natural it was to treat you with a tenderness he's never had with anyone in his entire life.

“He fell from a helicopter?” Crinkled eyes meet yours from across the table, taking a sip of his drink before letting out a dry chuckle, nodding his head.

“Aye, hangin' from a bloody rope. Had me scared, thinkin' I lost my Sergeant.” John said with a grin, his gaze softening at the way you were listening so intently, your full attention on him no matter how boring he thought his stories were.

“Is he scared of getting into helicopters again?” You lean a bit closer to him, your chin resting on your hand as you look up at him. From this angle, you're able to admire John's features from up-close. Every single grey hair adorning his beard, his crow's feet, the tiny beauty mark on his nose, the tiny spots on his face, likely gotten from spending a long time under the sun as a soldier from a young age.

“Of course. Took him a while to trust our pilots again, now he always double checks his gear's on right.” Price always pays attention to detail, the way your pupils dilate the longer you stare at him don't go unnoticed in the slightest. He asks a passing waitress for a check, not even giving you a second to offer to pay for your half before his card is already in her hands, going away to charge him for the dinner and drinks.

“And how's… what was his name again? Soap?” He smirks at the mild confusion when using Johnny's callsign, likely assuming it's simply a sex innuendo.

“Soap, yeah. He's a good kid, kind o' like the son I never had.” That gets your attention, looking away for a second to hold back a small smirk before looking back up at him, eyebrows raised.

“You don't have children?” That earns a small chuckle out of him, shaking his head at the question. He gave the waitress a small smile as she came back with his card, pocketing it and getting up from his chair, offering his arm up to you. There's no hesitation as you hook your arm with his, walking to his car.

“Never had girlfriends after joining the SAS. Became a captain at a young age, too.” He looks down at you as you walk, admiring your pretty features, secretly wondering how Simon could have fucked up that badly— how he let such a lovely and sweet girl go. He opens the car door for you, even going as far as to help you put on your seatbelt, letting you have a whiff at his woody cologne, the smell of smoke from cigars mixing in.

“What about you? Any children?” He asks teasingly, shooting you a playful grin before starting the car, blue eyes fully focused on the road. Unlike Simon, Price knows how to drive well, making you feel safe while on the road.

“Hell no. I've been… thinking about it, but men my age were never interested in that.” Even if he was much older, Simon was never even an option. Too emotionally unavailable, too fucked up to even consider having children.

“Part of the reason I like older men.” Your voice is smooth and even, a sheer contrast to the slight knot of nervousness tightening in your stomach, only coming undone when you hear his amused laugh.

Price's calloused palm rests on the gear shift before daring to move it over to your thigh, running up and done slowly, trying to heat up your cold skin rather than doing it to be a pervert, yet your body still reacts to his touch, warmth pooling on your lower stomach.

“Really, sweetheart?” Price isn't stupid in the slightest, yet unlike Simon, his actions aren't malicious. He simply wants to see you squirm, finding pure amusement in the laugh you both share and the playful slap you give to his arm.

“Stop using your charm on me.” You scold jokingly, unable to hide the big grin taking over your pretty face.

“I'm charming now, eh?” His grip tightens on your inner thigh, applying just enough pressure to tease you.

“According to Simon, you always have.” That makes one of his thick eyebrows raise questioningly, his lips pulling into an amused smile.

“I've known him for a long time, y'know? Back when we I was an LT.” He can't help but allow his mind to go back into the past as he drives, images of the eager Simon Riley, a broken man who simply wanted to change the world, who always helped without even asking for much in return.

“Has be always been… like that?” You ask after a few seconds of silence, allowing yourself to be the cat curiosity killed.

“No.” The Simon Riley he met was not similar to Ghost in the slightest.

“He was 'round 19 when I met him. Better than any recruits I've seen.” Yet still teased by his mates for being an apprentice butcher in the past, for being so rigid and basing his entire life on discipline, unlike the many other young soldiers who have since passed.

“I bet. He has that certain look on him, you know? The eyes. I wouldn't want to mess with him.” Price lets out a dry chuckle, nodding his head in agreement. Part of him is glad that he's been working with Simon because it seems that to know more about you, he needs to know about Simon as well.

“We're here, doll.” He parks the car, getting out of his seat and opening the door for you, his calloused hand resting on your lower back, guiding you to your house. You can feel the warmth from his hand spreading all over your body, soothing rubs up and down your back as you walk.

“Would you like a cuppa?” Mirth dances in his eyes at the audacity, already knowing your intentions, and yet.

“Of course.” Price follows after you, part of him growing excited by whatever you have in mind. Your slightly shaky hands fiddle with the keys before you're able to open the door, secretly thankful that you cleaned up your mess earlier in the day.

“What tea would you like?” You ask, turning around just in time to see Price finishing the once-over he was giving you.

“This isn't about tea, is it, darlin'?” He asks with a knowing smile, his jacket slipping out of his shoulders now that you're both inside the house. Blown pupils stare back at him, taking your time to admire the strong body hugged by his tight black shirt. You can see his bulging muscles, broad shoulders fully relaxed as he steps forward, towering over you. A monument of sorts when you're small.

“If I'm lucky, I hope not.” Your breathy voice was all Price needed as reassurance. His lips crash against yours, warm hands gripping your waist tight enough for you to feel the warmth spreading all over your lower body. The smell and taste of cigar smoke overwhelms your senses, too enthralled by the feeling of his tongue wrapping around yours, a small moan leaving your lips the moment his hand trails down to your ass, groping you with care, as if you're made of glass.

“How far do you wanna go?” His forehead leans against yours as his blown pupils stare back at you, his chest rising up and down with each breath.

“As far as you want to.” A small yelp leaves your lips when he lifts you in his arms, your legs instantly wrapping around his strong, muscular waist.

“Bedroom's there.” You don't even need to point— Price can see the open door, so enticing and tempting, allowing your small giggle to consume his whole soul like a siren's song. With carefulness that contrasts the brutality he uses as a soldier, Price sets you down in bed, strong arms on each side of your head, caging you in.

Your breaths mingle together as he leans down to kiss you again, warm tongues wrapping around the other, using his knee to spread your legs enough for his burly body to fit, subtly grinding against your clothed cunt.

“Been wantin' to do this for a long while.” Ever since Simon showed him your profile picture on WhatsApp, introducing you as a friend in need. He wouldn't dare confess it to anyone, not with the way his calloused hand rubbed his cock until it almost hurt, using your pretty face as a relief from the stress of war.

“Pretty fuckin' girl.” He praised, dragging a giggle out of you the moment his beard started tickling your neck, gentle kisses planted all over your warm, sensitive skin, his tongue darting past his lips to give your neck a tantalizing lick.

He can feel your hands exploring his strong body, his muscles bulging and tensing up beneath your soft palms. He only breaks apart the moment your hands go to the hem of his shirt, helping you pull it off of his body, the piece of clothing discarded on the floor.

“God…” Your whisper holds nothing but pure admiration, catching hints of his strong, muscular body, dark hair covering most of it. Your hand drifts up to his torso, caressing his surprisingly soft skin, not minding the scars you can feel beneath your hand. Price has been shot, stabbed, tortured, left for dead— his body acting as a keepsake of every mission gone wrong.

His gaze is soft as he stares down at you, holding a tenderness unlike a man like him, so naturally gentle and willing to show it without the walls guarding his heart— unlike Simon. His calloused hand rubs your thigh before drifting up to the hem of your blouse, carefully pushing it up and removing it with your help.

“Pretty girl.” His back bends slightly as his gentle lips now go to your bare stomach, planting a rapid-fire of kisses all over the soft skin, descending with each passing second, lifting your skin up to reveal your clothed cunt.

“I'll take care of you.” And he means every single word. Captain Price is a bad man, a bad man with a high kill-count and multiple war crimes to his name, yet John Price is a different story— caring and loving, so willing to fix something he didn't even break.

His eyes close the moment his lips connect to your mound, tongue darting out to get a taste at all he's been craving the moment he saw you. He lets out a small groan as the taste of your slickness overwhelms his senses, his hands roaming up and down your waist, daring to sneak past your bra, finally getting a good feel at your tits.

John is a starved man. A starved man whose only salvation is you, looking so pretty and sweet, panties wet with a mix of his saliva and your own slick. He's careful and gentle, pulling down your panties with both hands and dropping them on the floor, his breath catching in his throat when his gaze drifts down to your pussy, glistening under the light of your bedroom.

He doesn't waste any time, lowering himself again between your legs, licking a trail from your tight hole, to your swollen clit. Your legs try to close out of instinct, a whiny moan making its way out of your lips at the sensation of his beard against your cunt.

“Open your legs, love.” He whispered, running his thumb over your hard bud.

“Let daddy taste you.” He kisses your inner thigh before diving back in, licking and sucking on your clit, trying his best to make you feel good. Your moans are too pretty, your cunt too sweet, and Price can feel himself starting to lose control. His cock throbbed, his own desire growing stronger by the second, focusing solely on your pleasure.

“That's my good girl.” He whispered against your skin, sliding two thick fingers inside you. You're soaking wet yet still so tight, only making his desire grow, desperately needing to be inside you. Your whiny moans fuel him, his warm tongue flickering against your hardened clit faster and faster, mixing in with his sucking, his thick fingers curling inside your needy cunt.

Your hands run through his short hair, pulling at it softly to release some of the pleasure building in, the familiar knot in your stomach tightening up with each lick. Your chest rises up and down with each long, labored breath, muscles tensing up as the knot in your stomach finally comes undone, pushing his face closer to your cunt as his fingers move in and out, dragging out your orgasm.

He pulls his fingers out of you slowly, his blue eyes connecting with yours as he licks his fingers clean from your cum, your heart thudding loudly inside your chest.

“Fuck me.” That breathy whisper was all he needed, getting up only to slip out of his pants and boxers, his dick standing proudly. Despite being uncircumcised, you can see his dark pink tip, leaking precum like a broken faucet. Now that he's standing, he takes his time to admire your bare body, his blue eyes going to your tits when you take off your bra.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, yeah?” The option is always there, and he wants you to know. His knees sink into the mattress as he supports his body on top of yours with one hand, lining his hard cock with your entrance, pausing for a moment.

“Let me love you.” He whispered hoarsely, slipping into you gently despite his primal instincts telling him otherwise. He lets out a loud groan the moment your tight walls grip his throbbing cock, his face finding shelter on the crook of your neck. A small hiss makes its way out of your lips as your legs wrap on his hips, pushing him closer and deeper, allowing him to finally bottom out.

“Bloody hell— you're so tight.” He moans out, his thrusts growing faster as you get used to his thickness. He looks down at you, his eyes filled with desire and adoration, longing dancing within. John's lips part as he feels your long nails dragging down his back, driving him crazy with pure need.

“I'm close.” He whispers out, his hips ramming against you with increasing urgency, reaching out to caress one of your soft tits. He plants open-mouthed kisses all over your neck and chest, his breath warm against your sweaty skin.

“Cum inside.” John's eyes widen at your words, his dominant nature taking over as his hands go down to grip your hips firmly in place, the overwhelming desire and pleasure clouding his judgement, drowning out any concerns. His thrusts are deep and powerful, making you his with an unyielding force.

As he loses himself in the heat of the moment, John's muscles tense up, the familiar feeling of pure heat pooling up within him, slamming himself as deep inside you as he can before his cock starts throbbing, shooting ropes of cum with each pulse. His breath is heavy as he slowly pulls out of you, his gaze fixated on the mess of mixed fluids that coats your pretty cunt.

“My pretty girl.” He whispers out, burly arms wrapping around your body, pulling you closer to his hairy chest, allowing you to hear his fast-beating heart. His lips are gentle against your forehead, wanting nothing more than to relax with you after the intense love-making. His actions are nothing short of genuinely caring and loving, wanting to give you good aftercare, all thoughts of Simon finally out of your head.

“Want me to run you a bath?” Price asks in a whisper, planting one last kiss on your forehead before looking down, just to see your chest moving up and down slowly, eyes closed and lips slightly parted, pulling you closer to his warm, naked body so you can sleep better, deciding to get some well-deserved rest as well.

The smell of eggs and tea is what you woke up to in the morning, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. The feeling of large fabric keeping your body warm makes you look down, just realizing that John put his large shirt on your body when you were sleeping, a small smile pulling at the corners of your lips as you get up from bed, making your way to the kitchen.

“Good mornin'.” John turns around for a second, blue eyes lighting up when he's greeted by a big smile and his shirt dwarfing your body, giving you a small wink before he's back to finishing your breakfast. You take your time to admire him, so naturally handsome and masculine, his hairy, strong body only having his boxers on.

“Thanks, daddy.” You quip teasingly as he hands you the plate, a small squeal leaving your lips when he starts to chase you around the house, shared laughs ringing around.

Dating John is a sheer contrast to any expectations you had when you first got into the relationship. Despite the fact that he's often away during missions, he has scheduled delivers for flowers and your favorite foods, calling with you the moment he's available.

“What are you doin'?” Price asks with a small smirk, his gaze softening the moment his eyes meet yours, your cheek resting on his strong thigh while he was trying to complete a report. His hand goes to your head out of pure muscle memory, giving your scalp a soft massage.

“I like you from this angle.” He lets out a small chuckle, moving his leg to make your position more comfortable as you nuzzle his leg, your chin now resting on it as you adjust your knees on the floor.

“You like me in every angle.” A grin spreads on his face, his calloused hand running down the length of your hair before resting on your back, massaging the muscles tenderly.

“True, but specially from this one.” The cheeky smile you throw his way does nothing other than to distract him further from his report of the latest mission, cupping your cheek to examine your pretty features better under the light of the room, mirth dancing in his blue eyes.

“You're clingier than my shadow.” He teases, leaning forward until his lips meet yours in an affectionate kiss, not bothered by your clinginess in the slightest. He breaks away just to give your forehead a tender kiss, staring down at you lovingly. The look of pure trust and love your eyes hold drags him back to one of the many late night conversations with Simon back at base.

“Y'like her?” Simon finally dares to ask, ignoring the growing pain on his lower stomach at the idea of you dating John, even if it was Simon's idea.

“Do you?” Price quips, already knowing the reply. There's been more than one occasion where he saw Simon stare at your WhatsApp profile picture, even if your number was deleted— he still keeps your messages, using it as an odd way of finding comfort despite the growing self-loathing from hurting you.

“You know I don't do that.” There's hints of regret spilling along Simon's deep voice, his bare fingers drumming on the cup of tea on his hand.

“Do what?” He already knows the answer, and yet.

“Love. 'M gonna get the poor girl killed.” Memories of Christmas haunt him even years later, his mind momentarily taken back to coming home just to find his entire family dead. All that blood, yet all his shattered mind was able to do was laugh even as he held a gun to his mouth.

“She'll be fine, Simon. The girl knows how to handle herself. Hell, I'm getting her a better security system soon, too.” Despite being in a committed relationship with you, John knows Simon well enough to know he still likes you, in his own way. He's seen Simon break down, seen the worst and the best of him, and eventually got to see the way he built himself back up, coming back to the SAS as Ghost.

“Wha'? You want me to date her, too?” Even if he asked it as a joke, Price's silence and the subtle shrug of his shoulders speaks louder than words.

“I know what you've been through, son. Think about it, you mean a lot to the bird.” John empties the rest of his tea down the sink, giving Simon one last pat on the shoulder before walking out of the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

“I'll go get it.” John is brought back to reality with the soft knocks on the entrance door, tilting his head up as you plant a kiss on his cheek. You make your way up to the door, your heart beating inside your chest when you look through the peephole, a familiar pair of dead brown eyes staring back. There's slight hesitation as your hand goes to the doorknob, resting there for a few seconds before you decide to open the door.

“Simon?” Despite the dark hoodie over his head, you can tell he hasn't been doing well, his skin looking more pale than usual, dark eyebags making him resemble more a raccoon than a man.

“'M sorry.” He mutters, hands deep inside the pockets of his jacket, lowering his gaze with nothing but pure shame.

“That's it?” Your guarded tone makes a part of him feel proud that you're not a doormat anymore.

“No. I'm sorry for… ignoring you, and for being a cunt.” His gaze finally meets yours. You can see the shame, the regret, and the pain.

“I was scared.” I wish I could tell you I survive out there because I don't want to leave you yet. Your lips part, though you decide to be quiet for now.

“I don't know if I'll ever be able to tell you why this shite happened.” Despite the way his hands are fidgeting inside his pockets, he's trying his best to be as honest as possible while avoiding dumping his trauma on you.

“That's bollocks, mate.” Price's voice almost scares the soul out of you, turning around to shoot him an exasperated look. For a man his size, he moves with surprising quietness. You can feel his burly arms wrap around your lower body, bringing you closer to him.

“Give 'er a proper apology.” Despite the hesitation Simon feels, the space Price left open for him is all he needs. You can feel another pair of arms wrapping around your body, the familiar scent of cheap fags and gun powder hitting your nose, bringing you back to all those nights you shared.

It's an awkward hug, a mess of limbs and warmth that you finally decide to take in, your arms wrapping around Simon's narrow waist, bringing his body closer to you despite the way his muscles tense up at the sudden contact. You can feel him relax with your touch, his cheek resting against the top of your head.

“'M sorry.” He repeats in a whisper, his cold face finding shelter on the warm crook of your neck, the urge to kiss you again growing stronger by the second, though he remains respectful. You can feel John's cock starting to harden against your ass, making you look up and give him a confused look. His hand goes up to grip your jaw softly, his lips crashing against yours as he starts to subtly grind against you, only making the confusion grow.

Simon's hold on your body tightens, the familiar sensation of his lips against your neck drags a small moan out of you, muffled in John's mouth. His tongue wraps around yours, your breathing growing more labored by the second, soft hands curling on Simon's muscular back, barely able to hear the door closing until you decide to break away from the kisses.

“What's going on?” The nervous laugh that leaves your lips is only met by a reassuring look coming from Price, his calloused hand running up and down your side.

“Part o' the apology you deserve, love.” You don't even have time to answer— not when Simon's rough lips meet yours, the kiss nothing but a pure display of love and affection. Even a ghost can be a lovely thing when you want it to be.

You can feel John's calloused hands drift down to the pajama shorts you're wearing, sneaking a few squeezes on your ass before his hand sneaks past your panties, using two of his fingers to feel your wet cunt, spreading your slick all over. His lips are now busy on your pretty neck, licking and sucking freely, not caring about any love bites he leaves— he knows you don't mind either.

You can hear his hard breathing against your tender skin, your tongue dancing with Simon's, hands desperately sneaking under his shirt, groping his hard, defined muscles. You can feel the bulging scar on his ribs, caressing it with extra care just to show him every single part of his heavily scarred body is loved.

“I missed you.” Simon breaks away from the kiss only to whisper that in your ear, his rough hand already going up to your tit, squeezing the soft fat while all you can do is moan, the combined sensations of the strong men touching you does nothing but drive you closer to the edge, your wet walls tightening around John's fingers, forcing you to squeeze Simon's bicep to release some of the tension.

“Fuck, daddy—” Simon's breath hitches at your words despite knowing you're talking to John, his own cock throbbing at the slight whine in your tone. His hands go to your waist, holding you up as your eyes finally shut, your forehead resting on Simon's chest as John's fingers move faster and deeper inside you, lazily rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your knees start to buck, more whiny and louder moans leaving your lips as you cum all over his fingers, nails digging into Simon's arm.

“That's a good girl.” Price praises in a breathy whisper, delicately pulling his fingers out of your pulsating cunt, taking a second to admire the way his fingers glisten with your slick.

“Taste her.” Simon is a man with no shame. No shame at all, making eye contact with you as he starts to suck his captain's fingers, putting them in his mouth just to taste more of your sweet slick. The hungry wolf is reduced to a starving dog, a small groan leaving his lips the moment your taste is all over his tongue.

He pulls John's fingers out of his mouth once he finishes licking them clean, your mouth opening ajar when Simon's lips crash against his, your heart beating loudly inside your chest as you watch them kiss. You can see their tongues dancing together, sharing your sweet taste in a passionate kiss, Simon's grip tightening around your waist.

They break away after a few seconds, looking up just to be met by Simon's cheeky smirk. He pushes you further into the house, fingers intertwining with yours as he walks into the bedroom like he owns the place, yet in reality, it's simply something he's done way more times than he can count.

“Pretty fuckin' girl.” His hold is all but gentle as he lays down in bed, pulling you on his lap, allowing you to feel the way his hard cock bulges on his jeans, calloused hands going to your ass to make you grind against him, whiny moans leaving your lips at the friction against your sensitive cunt.

You can hear a zipper going down behind you, only making the excitement grow at the idea of seeing your boyfriend's bare body again— no matter how many times you've seen it already. Price's knees sink on the mattress, burly arms wrapping around your waist, grabbing one of your hands just to guide it to his hard cock. Your hands wrap around it, starting to rub him up and down slowly until his fingers join yours, speeding up the movement.

“Tell me you wanna fuck him.” His voice is a whispered command, a dominance you've never heard before— and one Simon has heard too many times during missions.

“I wanna fuck Simon.” You confess, your back pressing against John's strong, hairy chest as you jack him off, your soft palm rubbing against his sensitive tip, dragging a small grunt out of him as you smear his precum all over his throbbing cock. His free hand goes to your back, pushing you down against Simon as you let go of his cock with a small whine of protest.

Simon is desperate and needy— that much you can tell by the way he removes his clothes with an eagerness you've never seen before. You take your time to admire his strong body, pale skin tattered by scars, yet looking so alluring. You adjust your position as he tries to remove his pants, exchanging a small laugh at the awkward position you're in.

He looks more relaxed and honest than you've ever seen, his eyes crinkling as you're getting your shorts and panties pulled down by Price, finally resting your naked body on top of his. It's a new change of pace for both of you— Simon doesn't like to give up control, doesn't enjoy being dominated, it's too personal and vulnerable, yet for you? He's willing to try anything.

“Show him how you much you missed him.�� John's soft command makes you nod your head, looking over your shoulder just to feel his lips against your back, his hand coming up to your jaw to turn your face back to Simon. Simon's calloused hand goes down to his throbbing, veiny cock, waiting until you lift your hips up to line himself up to your cunt, a low groan leaving his lips as your tight walls wrap around him, your back arching once he bottoms out.

“Fuck, Simon…” Your face rests against the crook of his neck, planting kisses all over his warm skin as he starts to fuck into you, the wet sounds of your sopping cunt and needy moans filling the room.

Simon's eyes are closed, fully taking in the sensation of finally having your naked body on his after so many months apart. His hands explore your body with familiarity, bringing one of your hands up to his face to make you cup his cheek, gentle kisses planted over and over on your thumb.

You're too far gone to notice John coming up from behind you, keeping you against Simon's body while his free hand rubs the lube all over his veiny cock, a small smirk pulling on the corners of his lips at how much you're both enjoying each other. You're dragged back to reality when you feel his tip pressing against your tight cunt, already full with Simon's cock.

“It's not going to—” Price pacifies you with another kiss on your bare, sweaty back, slowly pushing in.

“I'll make it fit.” He reassures, a deep moan leaving his lips once he manages to slip his thick tip inside you, giving you time to adjust to the sensation before slowly pushing the rest of his cock inside you, pausing once he bottoms out to give you a well-deserved break.

“Fuckin' hell.” Simon groans out, his face scrunching up at how much tighter your cunt feels now that you have two cocks inside you. His short nails lightly dig into your skin, already feeling so close to the edge despite the fact you're just getting started.

You let out a short exhale once they both start moving, cocks rubbing together inside your tight walls, the sensation of being stretched this much starting to feel better by the second, every single nerve inside your cunt being stimulated. You pull Simon for another kiss, feeling his hand coming up to the back of your head just to pull you closer, wanting to feel more of your tiny tongue licking his.

You're a mess of limbs— sweaty bodies colliding, feeling their muscles tightening up around your soft, smaller body. Simon's moans are muffled by your lips, not letting you pull away from the kiss in slight embarrassment at letting you hear the neediness seeping out of his tone.

Their hips move in a relentless rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins, forcing your back to arch, only giving them a better angle to fuck into you. Price's hands go up to your soft tits, squeezing and groping as he moves faster and deeper inside you, his breath hot against your ear.

“I'm… I'm gonna cum.” You manage to whisper between moans, muffled once again by Simon's rough lips. The overwhelming sensations build within you, the familiar sensation of your muscles tensing up and fingers tingling starts to grow stronger by the second, the intensity of your connection with both men driving you over the edge.

The sensation of one of their cocks hitting your cervix over and over makes you whine softly, muscles tensing up as they sandwich your bodies between them, finally letting go, your orgasm washing over you as your walls wrap tighter around their cocks, your fingers digging into Simon's skin. It doesn't take long for them to follow after you, fucking into you as deep as they can as they release a thick load into you, cocks pulsating with each rope they shoot.

They remain buried inside you for a moment, chests heaving as they try to catch their breaths. Price is the first one to pull out, watching as their combined cum seeps out of your spent pussy before he lays down next to Simon, your warm body being pulled to the side as Simon lays on his side, his cock still buried inside you even while he's softening.

“I love you.” He finally confesses, tired eyes meeting yours for a second before shutting again as Price embraces you from behind. Your leg is resting over Simon's body, making the position a lot more comfortable as you bring his face closer to your chest.

“I love you too. Both of you.” You whisper, tiredness slowly taking over your body, not even realizing that Simon is already asleep, his face buried on your soft tits. Price lets out a small chuckle, planting gentle kisses all over your warm back, his hands lightly gripping your stomach as a way to let you know he loves you, too.

2K notes · View notes

mattsstarlet · 21 days ago

Text

fully introducing…dealer!matt and goodgirl!reader

in which…your friend brings you along to a trap house party, where you meet the dealer himself.

warnings: mentions of drugs, alcohol, and suggestive content. no smut.

note: my first ever prompt is here! i’m not the best writer so i really do hope u enjoy.

your heart thumped the same rhythm as the loud bass blasting off the walls. as you walked into the trap house, the more you saw, the tighter your hand gripped your friend.

it was much wilder than you had ever imagined, or maybe it was because parties weren’t your thing. you’d rather be cooped up in your cozy bed with your nose stuck in some romance book.

the lights are down low, and a small disco ball flashes colors, matching the pace of whatever rap song is playing. you scrunch your nose as you smell a whiff of weed and alcohol lingering in the air.

a bunch of rowdy boys huddle up over a table, playing some sort of game involving alcohol, though it looks like they’ve done a lot of drinking and less playing. as you walk in further, each corner is busy with horny couples sticking their tongues down each other's throats.

your friend looks back at you, tightening her hold as you two make your way past a busy crowd. she’s only been here a few times, but she’s already familiar with the layout, having some sort of relationship with a guy who lives here.

squeezing past the sweaty bodies, your friend pulls you towards the direction of a couch. one of the guys sitting there raises his head, a small grin appearing on his face.

“what’s up, baby?” he lifts himself off the couch and snakes his arm around her waist. “y’made it.”

“hi,” her voice soft and gentle. she motions to you with a wave, signaling you to get closer. “chris, this is my friend and roommate.”

he nods, “s’nice to meet you. heard a lot about you actually,” he smirks.

chris goes on, joking about how much of a yapper your friend is. you on your end, block out their conversation, distracted by the items on the coffee table.

teeny tiny bags of colored pills lay on the flat surface, as well as lines of white powder and expired credit cards. in the middle, cold bottles of high-quality alcohol sit next to an ashtray with stones of a certain green plant and cut-up brown paper.

a tattooed arm brings you back to focus when it reaches over, picking up a pre-rolled joint and a lighter. your eyes shift towards the owner, chewing on your bottom lip as you take in the mysterious man.

the first thing you noticed was his stubble, and how well it defined his sharp jaw. the messy hair look makes it seem like it was made for him. it just fell perfectly into place around his sculptured face.

“y’starin’ mad hard, sweetheart.” his low, husky voice snapped you out of your daze. “y’tryna buy or… jus’ like whatcha see?” a slight smirk appeared as he finally pulled his gaze from the joint to your wide eyes. he glances at your pouty lips, licking his own before meeting your gaze once again.

you shake your head; the thought of trying pills or weed alone makes your skin crawl. it’s no secret that you’ve at least tried alcohol, but then again, it was just a tiny sip.

“oh, no thank you... I—I don’t do that,” you say nervously.

he chuckles lowly, “of course you don’t…” he mutters. he looks around, noticing chris had taken off with your friend to most likely fool around in his bedroom.

matt takes in your nervous state; he shouldn’t care if you'll be fine on your own or not. the drugs in his system have already been fucking with his head, but the thought of a pretty innocent girl being all on her own didn’t sit right with him—or maybe he was already making you his… and matt hates when people take what’s his.

“sit. lemme keep you some company, yeah? you...your uh friend dipped. can’t have a quiet little angel all by herself in a place like this.”

you clear your throat as you slowly make your way next to him. being this close to him makes your head foggy; he’s intimidating, and the scent of his spicy cologne mixed with a hint of weed doesn’t help either. he’s got this…thing that creates an unfamiliar warm fuzzy feeling in your core.

you play with the hem of your skirt as you sit inches away from him, rubbing your slick thighs together. the action doesn’t go unnoticed by matt, his imagination running wild, wanting to throw you over his shoulder and into his bed. his cock hard as a rock just imagining your pouty face as he eats your sweet cunt out.

matt runs a hand through his brown hair, trying to shake off the dirty things he wants to do to you. he places his rough, clasped hand on your knee. it’s light and gentle, yet it doesn't help the growing fire in your tummy.

“easy, sweetheart… i'm gonna be honest, angel,” he rubs your thigh in an up-and-down motion, going as high as where the end of your skirt touches his fingertips.

“that thing you’re doin’… ‘s’makin’ me think some things… naughty things.”

you stop the action immediately, your skin filling up with goosebumps as his hand moves to your inner thigh, not that close where you need him but close enough that matt could feel the heat. glancing at him with those big eyes, you mutter a little ‘sorry.’

matt squeezes your thigh, his mind too caught up in the way you’re nervously biting on your bottom lip, “relax, babydoll. jus’ sit back and be a good girl, yeah? i got you, angel.”

he smirks slyly when you nod again. swallowing thickly, you relax your shoulders and sit back. matt’s hand moves higher, up your soft skin when your skirt rises. “there we go, gooood girl,” he praises, his smirk growing wider. he leans in, his hot breath fanning your ear, “y'know...i think we’re gonna get along jus’ well, angel.”

interact under this post to be notified when i upload posts like this!

a/n: been in my drafts for so long, i can’t keep hiding there. also feel free to send me some inbox’s about these two!

TAGS: @mbbsgf

669 notes · View notes

luveline · 6 months ago

Note

Hi!! Sometimes in ur bombshell reader fics she talks about how she has nervous energy would u ever write a bombshell reader fic where she has one of those days where she just woke up wired and Spencer tries to calm her down?

“Spencer,” you whisper.

“What?”

Spencer turns another page. You, across from him with your legs crossed, slouched, poke at his leg gently with your foot. “What are you reading?”

“It’s just a book on Wyoming land boundaries.”

You nod. Spencer watches you from across the top of his book, at first without worry, and then an attentiveness that furthers all the reasons you may or may not be in love with him.

“You okay?”

Everything should be fine. The case is solved. You’re heading home, without turbulence, two hours at most from touching down after a job well done. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” he asks.

You smile fraughtly. You try your best to be the perfect image, to put that best foot forward, and you nail it ninety nine days out of a hundred. Nobody knows about your nervousness besides you, and that’s how you’d like it to stay, but Spencer clearly cares about you too much to look away.

He closes his book and sets in on the table, pushing a glass into his hand. “Here,” he says, leaning forward. “It’s not poisoned.”

You take it. Feeling his gaze, you drink a little sip that immediately goes down the wrong way. Your coughing swallow perturbs him worse.

People tend to look at Spencer and see someone who needs more help. Even the people closest to him can doubt his ability, but as far as you’re concerned he’s proven to understand emotion quite well. He won’t shake a stranger's hand, he can’t flirt to save his life without notice, but he can make you feel better. He’s good at taking care of you, even if nobody else can see it.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, leaning right over to touch both your knees at once. He pushes your skirt up a half inch with the movement, but his eyes are on your face. “You have the jitters?”

“Think so,” you murmur.

“Maybe it’s the air pressure.”

You’re sure he knows you get like this sometime, but his explanation is kind. His hands on your knees are somehow strangely placed and still a natural feeling. Just like sitting together at his place to watch TV, or elbow to elbow on the train into New York, your boundaries with one another are eroding.

“Wanna come and sit by me?” he asks, like he’s thinking the same thing.

You laugh softly. “In all that space?”

The seat is big enough for a larger person, but not you and Spencer together.

He squeezes himself right to the side. “Come on,” he insists, sitting back, “just sit with me.”

“I’ll squish you.”

“So squish me.”

You think about it before setting your traded glass down. You don’t know why you have these weird moods, you don’t understand what it is about Spencer that can make them feel better, but he’s offering to make it go away. You have no real reason to turn him down.

In the end, you sit in the chair beside him, ignoring Hotch’s perturbed look as you stand and then quickly plop yourself down at Spencer’s side. Your thigh has to go completely on top of his, but otherwise, it’s not so bad. It’s more room than you thought.

It works quicker than you could imagine. With both of your heads held back the space between you is still minimal, which means his face is in detail. His hair brushed back and with the barest traces of gel, a little curled, what had Hotch said? His boyband hair.

Spencer turns toward you, eye shadowed as he presses his forehead to the chair. “Is it just jitters?” he asks.

“Sometimes I think I get… weird,” you say.

“Me too.” He pulls your leg further into his lap. You’re shocked at first, but it’s a friendly move that takes the strain off of your knee. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course you can.”

“I’ve started to care a whole lot less about being weird since I met you.”

You fight the urge to touch his hair. “I don’t think it’s about caring, Spence, I just.. don’t feel right.”

“Okay.” He nods sincerely. “Okay, well, we can work it out. We’re still hours from Virginia, you can turn your brain off. We can work it out.”

You’re relieved to have him promise it. This isn’t the sort of thing you can work out, but it doesn’t matter, Spencer caring this much makes all the difference. You take a deep, deep breath, and you give him a grateful smile, before you rest your cheek on his shoulder. That’s just wanting, no weird feeling or jittering at the root of you as he lets a warm breath kiss your forehead, his nose pressing into your skin.

“Don’t let anybody see,” you mumble.

His next breath is a little shaky. “I won’t.”

See what, you’re not sure. But soon you start to feel less like you’re gonna try popping open an emergency window, and that’s enough for now.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

rispwr · 28 days ago

Text

⋆⭒˚.⋆ Hot and pissed and on the pill - m.list ˙⋆✮

nsfw warnings : oc is tipsy but sober enough to know what she's doing, riding, jk having a lil thing with oc and her skirt, praises, jk calling oc "slut" once, spitting, hairpulling, slapping, dry humping at first, jungkook asking if she's sure first, oc breaking his window lock lmaoo, big c! jk, unprotected sex (USE CONDOMS FOR SAFETY YALL), praise, oc taking the initiative, the heathers inspired, dead girl walking from the heathers, literally porn and lastly it's not proofread

wc : 1k

“Y/n?? ” Jungkook’s voice was low and urgent as he noticed you climbing in through his window. His eyes widened as he moved closer, pulling it open further. “Shit- what- what the fuck are you doing here?” he whispered harshly, glancing behind him as though someone else might hear.

You grabbed his hands instinctively as he helped you clumsily climb inside, his grip firm despite the clear exasperation in his voice. Once your feet were on solid ground, you stumbled slightly before collapsing onto his bed, your messy hair falling into your face.

Jungkook ran a hand through his own messy hair, staring at you like you’d grown two heads. “You… you look drunk,” he muttered, grabbing the glass of water from his nightstand and handing it to you. “Where were you?”

You nodded, sipping the water slowly, your movements lazy and uncoordinated. “heathers, four drinks, ” you said with a crooked smile, holding up four fingers as though it was some sort of victory. “Did I wake you?”

“I—no, I mean… yeah?” he stammered, his brows furrowed as he crouched slightly, his face now level with yours.

“W-what are you doing here?” Jungkook’s voice was laced with surprise and a tinge of nervousness, his doe eyes searching yours. But you didn’t let him finish, silencing him with a press of your index finger to his lips.

“Wanna ride you,” you said matter-of-factly, as if it were the most casual thing in the world. The boldness in your voice startled even you, but you were too caught up in the mix of frustration and desire coursing through your veins to care.

“Wait—what?” he asked, straightening his posture, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His hands instinctively found their way to your hips as you climbed onto his lap, straddling him.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his cheeks flushed, his breath hitching as your weight settled against him.

You cupped his face, your thumb brushing over the faint stubble on his jaw. “Jungkook, I’m hot, pissed, and on the pill,” you said firmly, your tone leaving no room for argument.

He blinked at you, his lips parting as if to respond, but before he could form a coherent thought, you leaned in, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. The initial shock melted away quickly, and his hands tightened their grip on your hips as he kissed you back with equal fervor.

“Fuck—wait,” he groaned, pulling back for just a moment. His lips were swollen, and his dark eyes glinted with amusement despite the obvious tension in his body. “You broke my window lock, you know,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

You smirked at him, your hands already tugging at the hem of your shirt. “You’ll live.” you said, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. Now only in only your skirt and bra, you leaned back in, your lips finding his again as your hips began to move. The friction of your clothed core grinding against the hardness beneath his boxers made you whimper into his mouth.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his hands sliding down to guide your movements. His fingers dug into your waist, his body already reacting to yours. “Y/N, you’re gonna drive me insane.”

“Good,” you whispered, nipping at his bottom lip. Your hands slid down his chest, your fingertips tracing over the firm lines of his body until they found the waistband of his boxers. You tugged at it, your movements impatient.

“Wanna take this off? Yeah?” he murmured, his voice a low, breathy rasp as he watched you with hooded eyes.

“Yeah,” you breathed, your hips never stopping their rhythm as your hands worked to slide his boxers down.

He lifted his hips slightly to help you, and the moment his cock sprang free, you felt the heat of it pressing against your thighs. Your mouth watered at the sight, your body throbbing with need as you reached for him, your fingers wrapping around his length.

You were about to reach for the zipper of your skirt, but his hand shot out, stopping you. “Don’t,” he said, his voice almost pleading. “Keep it on... please?”

Your breath caught at the look in his eyes dark, hungry, yet somehow tender. You nodded, letting him have this one thing as he leaned back slightly, his hands sliding up your thighs to bunch the fabric of your skirt just enough to expose you. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, sliding them to the side. The cool air against your slick folds made you shiver, and his gaze locked onto you, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

“Can I- can I take it?” you asked, your voice trembling with anticipation as you positioned yourself over him, guiding his tip to your entrance.

“Fuck—go, baby,” he groaned, his voice strained as he gripped your hips, helping you lower yourself. “Take it like the good girl you are, hm?”

The stretch of him filling you inch by inch made your head fall back, a silent moan escaping your lips as your walls adjusted to his size. He felt impossibly big, and the slight burn only added to the pleasure. His hands gripped your hips tighter, his nails digging into your skin as he watched you take him, his own breaths coming out in ragged gasps.

“Holy fuck,” he groaned, his head falling back against the couch as you finally sank down fully, your bodies flush together. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Jungkook,” you whimpered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You rested your hands on his shoulders for balance, your nails digging into his skin as you began to move.

His cock stretched you so perfectly, hitting that sweet spot with every thrust upward as you rode him with reckless abandon. His hands gripped your waist tightly, guiding your movements.

“Fuck- you look so good like this,” he growled, his head tilting back as he watched the way your body moved on top of him, the skirt you kept on bunched up around your waist. His eyes darkened with lust, his chest heaving as his hands slid upward, brushing over the curve of your breasts before gripping your throat lightly, making you gasp.

“Faster, baby,” he rasped, his thumb pressing against your windpipe just enough to send a thrill through you. “Show me how much you missed me.”

You moaned, leaning forward to press your lips to his. But before you could deepen the kiss, Jungkook’s hand left your throat, moving to your cheek instead, and with a sharp smack, he slapped you.

“Fuck,” you gasped, your movements faltering for a moment as you processed the action. His dark eyes bore into yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he cupped your face roughly.

“Don’t stop,” he commanded, his voice rough and dripping with dominance. “Ride me, baby. Show me what a good fucking girl you are.”

The mixture of pain and pleasure sent a fresh wave of heat straight to your core, and you moaned loudly, your hips snapping forward as you resumed your movements. Your fingers gripped his shoulders tightly, nails digging into his skin as you bounced on his cock, your wetness coating him with every thrust.

“That’s it,” he growled, one hand sliding back to grip a fistful of your hair. He tugged hard, pulling your head back, exposing your neck to him as he leaned forward to nip and suck at the sensitive skin. “You like it when I treat you like this, huh? Like being my filthy little slut?”

“Yes—fuck—yes,” you cried out, your voice breaking as the pleasure consumed you. The sharp tug of his hand in your hair, combined with the deep thrusts of his cock and the filthy words spilling from his lips, was almost too much.

“okay, okay” he murmured against your neck, his other hand slipping down between your thighs to rub tight circles against your clit. “So fucking wet. Look at you falling apart just for me.”

You whined, your body trembling as the pressure in your core built, your walls clenching around him. Jungkook pulled back, his hand releasing your hair only to grip your chin, tilting your face down toward his. “Spit on me,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding.

“What?” you whispered, your brows furrowing in confusion, though the heat in his eyes made your stomach flip.

“Spit on me,” he repeated, his grip on your chin tightening slightly. “Right here.” He opened his mouth slightly, his tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip as he waited.

Your breath hitched, but the fire in his gaze made you comply. You gathered the saliva in your mouth before spitting on him, the act feeling strangely intimate and dirty all at once. He groaned, his tongue darting out to lick the corner of his mouth before smirking up at you.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice filled with approval. “Now let me hear you, baby. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

The praise sent you over the edge, your climax crashing over you as your walls clench around him, squeezing him tightly. Your head fell back, a loud, broken moan escaping your lips as your body shook in his grip.

“Fuck- that’s it, baby,” he groaned, his own movements growing erratic as he chased his release. He gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he thrust up into you one last time, spilling inside you with a deep, guttural moan.

You collapsed against him. Jungkook’s hands moved to your back, rubbing soothing circles as you both came down from your highs.

“You’re fucking unreal,” he murmured after a moment, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. His voice was softer now, a stark contrast to the dominance he’d displayed just moments ago.

You lifted your head slightly, meeting his gaze. His dark eyes softened as they met yours, and for a moment, the intensity of the moment lingered between you. Then, a sly grin spread across his face.

Jungkook leaned back slightly after his cheeky response, his smirk firmly in place, but the way his eyes roamed your face made your chest feel strangely warm. You rolled your eyes at him, shaking your head in mock exasperation.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, letting your palm land on his chest in a playful slap. He chuckled softly, his hand still resting lazily on your waist.

“And…” you started, a sly smile tugging at your lips as your fingers absentmindedly playfully slap his chest, “…you’re my first.”

notes : okay..... okay? i don't know what to say lmao. i wanna say i'm kinda proud of this? also this was a lazy fic so don't expect it to be good

#rispwr #bts #jungkook ff #jungkook #jungkook smut #bts x reader #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook bts #jeon jungkook #bts fic #bts jk #bts fanfic #bts au #jungkook pwp #pwp fics

581 notes · View notes

nanaslutt · 1 year ago

Note

i just wanna like… have toji teach me how to give him head 😞

you and me both

contains: fem reader, oral(m!receiving), slightly inexperienced reader, big dick!toji, size kink, manhandling, throat fucking, cum eating, slight asphyxiation, praise, he talks you it, established relationship, dirty talk, sweet!toji :p

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

You’ve been standing behind the couch where toji sat for 5 minutes now.

Youve been wanting to give him head for a while now, but you have no idea where to even start.

For one you’ve never even sucked a dick before, not having a lot of prior experience before you met toji. And second, his dick was intimidatingly big.

He always had to fuck you open on four of his fingers; having had at least 2 orgasms; before he even thought about putting his dick inside you, and still the stretch was barely manageable.

The thought of what he might do to your throat since having the knowledge of how bad he can wreck your pussy, scared you.

He was so patient with you though, always wiping your fat tears off of your cheeks, cooing at your pained expression, while he let you cockwarm him, getting used to his girth before he ultimately fucked your brains out.

“Ur bein’ fucking creepy doll, what is it.” his deep voice sounded through the room. Making you stand on edge as you bit the inside of your cheek, having been found out.

“Sorry..” you bashfully apologized, walking around the side of the couch to see your boyfriend sprawled out in front of the television.

Big thighs manspreading on the cushions, arms laid out on the back of the couch, one large hand was holding a freshly cracked beer can, as he looked up at you with his dark eyes.

The look you had on your face made him curious as to what the hell you were thinking about. A mix of nervousness and contemplation plastered on your pretty face as you started to climb on him.

You slung your arms over his shoulders, straddling his hips, and placed your head in the crook of his neck and sighed deepy.

“Whacha thinkin about pretty girl?” toji asked, hand not holding his drink coming down to rest against you ass.

“I uh.. wanted to ask for your help.” you softly replied. Toji stayed silent, rubbing his hand over your backside encouragingly as he waiting for you to get the courage to speak again. He brought the beer to his mouth in the meantime, taking a couple sips.

“Been thinking about sucking your dick but uh.. I’ve never done it before.” your unexpected bluntness made him choke on his drink, recovering quickly as he looked at you the best he could with your head being in his neck and all.

“Yeah? Been thinkin’ about it?” he teased, you could practically hear his cocky smirk.

You let out a soft “mhmm” in reply.

Toji always ate you out so good, leaving you a shaking and shivering mess on his sheets every time he was finished licking you clean. He never complained when you didn’t return the favor, he knew how big he was and his experiences with women giving him head in the past wasn’t exactly.. enjoyable.

Reminders of the dull teeth that would scrape against his cock, or the lack of technique the women would use on him would flood his mind whenever he thought about receiving head.

He already picked up on how intimidated you were when his length flopped against his stomach when he removed his boxers, which is why he never dared to bring up the idea.

He figured if you wanted to try it, you would ask, then you would try, and it ultimately it wouldn’t work out like always and that would be alright.

Although toji never complained about it, he had constant fantasies of your lips around his cock. Nights when you weren’t at his apartment he spent his time in his bed, hand wrapped around his thick cock as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He would apply a generous amount of lube, trying to simulate the feeling of your wet mouth as he fucked his hips into his hand, pretending it was sliding down your warm throat.

His fantasy always shattering when he came, vividly picturing your face covered in his cum right before he came, but snapping out of the pipe dream when he felt the hot ropes of cum shoot on his stomach instead.

But that was satisfactory, you did plenty for him in bed, always taking his cock so fucking well, stroking him off with your small hands, his dick pressing between your thighs, your tits; he was spoiled, so who was he to complain?

Although his reply to your confession was fairly composed, toji was mentally losing his shit. Trying not to get hard at the situation and potentially scare you away when you realized his problem, being reminded of just how big he was and turning you off from the idea.

Little did he know you were well aware of that fact already. You would never be able to forget the way he split you open with the sheer size of his cock, for as long as you lived.

“I can teach you if that really sounds like somethin’ you want” he spoke nonchalantly, trying not to get his hopes up at the thought that you might actually be the one to take his dick down your throat, heart betraying him as is practically beat out of his chest.

“Really?” you perked up, sitting up to face him, loooking like an eager puppy. “Can we try it now?” you asked.

exactly like an eagar puppy.

“You sure your ready for it?” he asked, setting his drink down on the side table before joining his other hand in grabbing your ass.

“Why not? you are.” you giggle, glancing down to his lap, referring to the massive tent he was sporting. Clearly his efforts in trying to keep it down were in vein.

but jesus christ was he in high school? popping a boner at the mention of head? good lord he needed to get a grip.

“Smart ass,” he left a light slap on your backside, making you giggle. He leaned over and grabbed a pillow he used as decoration on the sofa, “Go ahead and get on your knees for me, use this so yer knees don’t hurt.” his gruff voice spoke.

You nodded obediently, placing the pillow on the carpet right between his spread thighs, while you folded your knees on the pillow, playing your hands on his knees as you waited for your next instruction.

“Rumor has it my dick is unsuckable, so,” he paused, “if this doesn’t go how you think it will, it’s not yer fault.” he assured, ruffling your hair.

“I can take it.” is the only thing you said back, the look you had in your eyes was so determined, it made his grin stretch across his face.

You watched intently as toji pulled down the band of his sweats and boxers alike. Massive cock springing up like always. His angry tip was leaking so fucking much, you were truly oblivious to how bad this idea affected the older man.

He wrapped his big hand around his thick cock, using the precum he was leaking to ease the slide against the skin as he looked down at you while you watched him stroke himself.

He noticed you squirming from your place on the floor, not to subtly pressing your thighs together.

“Watchin’ me touch myself make ur little pussy all wet?” Toji spoke, smirk, still prevalent on his face. The way in which he spoke made you think you had no shame at all.

You nodded, mouth watering watching his pre bead up in the slid of his cock before dripping down, getting swiped up by tojis large hand.

“‘s so big toji” you spoke, intimidation obviously laced in your voice, but you were so determined to be the one who took tojis cock.

You wanted to show him exactly how good he made you feel when he used his mouth for you.

“C-can I?” you slid your hands on his big thighs, training twords his cock, watching him strok himself steadily.

“Can you what?” Toji always made you use your words. He never got tired of watching how embarrassed and flustered you got over stuff like this.

His head spinning when a blush covered your face, eyes darting around the room before you spoke again, “”Can I touch it, please,” you asked.

Toji quickend his strokes, “Look at me baby.” Your eyes instantly meeting each other at his demand, his eyebrows were furrowed together. A look was plastered on his face that said you can do better than that.

Keeping your eyes on Toji’s dark and intimidating ones, you elaborated begrudgingly, “Wanna stroke your cock Toji, please”

He let out a short aroused laugh, big hand placing itself on your own, against his thigh, “Course you can baby, jus’ had to ask,”

He curled his fingers under yours, scooting his hips towards you on the couch before he placed your hand on his cock, his hand covering yours.

“You don’t need any help with this part right? Little hands always touch me so fucking good.” he praised, retracting his grip around his cock as he let you take over.

Your other hand came up to join the fun, using both your hands to wrap around his cock. You payed special attention to the tip, just how you knew toji liked, twisting your wrists together, creating delicious friction on his length.

Toji’s abs clenched under his shirt, feeling your hands on him always felt too good, his eyes drooping even more as you stroked him with vigor.

His eyebrows suddenly shot up when your head dropped down to his crotch. Your pink tongue darted out to lick in the slit of his cock, licking at the precum that had beaded up again.

He swear his brain short circuited when he felt your warm tongue touch him. That barely there feeling alone felt a hundred times better than his hand trying to mimic your mouth when he was alone.

“Someone’s eagar.” he laughed, arousal seeping into his voice when he spoke, big hand coming down to rest against your head comfortingly.

“Wanna make you feel good, can you uh.” you paused, “can you teach me now?” he thought it was so fucking cute how you currently had his dick in his hands, stroking it with a technique on par with a porn star, and you were embarrassed asking him to show you how to suck his dick.

“Want me to teach my pretty girlfriend how to suck my dick?” he corrected, making you squeeze your thighs together at his filthy mouth, an action that did not go unnoticed by toji; none of your reactions did.

“Please” you whimpered.

He tucked in his lips for a second, reminding himself not to cum the second his tip was in your mouth. Letting his plush lips pop back out he started his lesson.

“Start by lickin’ on it, just like you did a second ago.” he instructed. Toji watched you nod, looking so focused when you dropped your head back down, flattening out your tongue and rubbing it along his tip.

He relished in the feeling of thr little circles and shapes you drew. Your strokes had died down against his length, putting all of your focus on your mouth that would soon be around him.

“You can suck on the tip if you can get yerself to do it too.” He groaned out.

You wasted no time, taking a deep breath through your nose before sliding your lips down around his tip and suckling.

“Atta fuckin’ girl,” toji bit his lip between his teeth when you followed his instruction so quickly. “Use your tongue when you suck on it too princess, it’ll make me feel so fuckin good” he added, knowing how much you loved getting him off.

So you listened, rolling your tongue around his tip as you bobbed your head a bit, taking his tip and just under that into your mouth. He tasted salty against your tongue as his tip leaked pre steadily into your mouth.

Toji slung a hand up behind him, placing it on the back of the sofa and squeezing the pillow between his fingers harshly, trying to ground himself, his other tangling itself in your hair still.

He had to actively fight his hips to not thrust into your mouth and just bully his cock down your throat, but it was so fucking hard. Every neuron in his brain was telling him to do so at the visual of you eagerly sucking on his cock.

He clenched his jaw hard when you looked up at him, presumably, for another direction.

“Wanna try taking it a little deeper?” he asked, eyes fluttering when you moaned out an “mhmm” around him, abs clenching at the vibration.

“Good girl.” He praised at your need to learn. “Keep your teeth tucked behind your lips and relax your throat so you don’t choke,” he gagged, though the thought of you choking around him didn’t sound half bad, but he was trying to be nice right now.

“Don’t push urself doll, take more whenever your ready.” he said, restraint was coursing through his veins. He didn’t want to get carried away and start thrusting haphazardly. He knew that if he showed restraint and this went well, that maybe in the future you would let him fuck your throat, that thought kept him sane right now, constantly reminding him of that revelation.

Toji tried to let himself relax against the cushions when you took him a little deeper.

Your mouth was being stretched painfully around his length the further you got down, a similar feeling to how your cunt felt when he slid in for the first time.

Eyes starting to water, forcing back a gag when you barely got halfway down his cock, and he was already pressed to the back of your throat.

Toji’s eyes rolled back in his sockets, he ran his fingers through your hair at the feeling of your mouth constricting him. “Doin so fucking good baby girl shiiiit,” he groned. You rubbed your thighs together at the praise.

So far he only felt your teeth graze him once, and that was already doing way better than the people who have attempted this before you.

The moans and whimpers you let out around him were sending delicious vibrations straight to his balls. His cock throbbing and twitching inside your warm mouth, threatening to spill into the cavern already.

He wanted to let you have your fun before he ruined it with his orgasm, and would ultimately have to wait till his cock was ready again before you continued. Although it probably wouldn’t take long with knowing just how hard he got in seconds at only the thought of your mouth around him, now having experienced it a little, he might not even have a refractory period after he came.

but he digressed

Toji jolted when you gagged around his cock, coughing around him and sending sputters of spit around him. “Fuck, c-careful doll, don’t hurt yourself” Toji groaned.

While you let yourself get used to taking in half, your hands came up to stroke what couldn’t fit in your mouth.

“Bob your head a little pretty thing, keep using your tongue too, just like you did for my tip.” his deep voice instructed when he noticed you just kept his length in your mouth, only moving your hands.

You followed his advice, bringing your warm mouth up, and back down on the amount that was comfortable for you right now, hands meeting your lips on the upstroke.

Toji was in heaven, he wanted to pull out his phone and take a video so he never forgot the scene in front of him.

He had never experienced receiving head that felt this fucking good before. His toes were curling in his slippers, balls tightening, and abs clenching rhythmically to match his heart wet as he watched you work.

It was so messy, spit was accumulating on the base of his cock, and his pelvis. Watching string of spit connect from the base to your small hands and lips was making his head feel fuzzy.

Much to his dismay, you popped off his dick, keeping your grip around the bottom of his cock when you spoke, “Toji, I wanna take it deeper” you whined, sounding frustrated. “Cant do it by myself, It won’t go any further.” you poured up at him, begging eyes pleading for some guidance.

oh this was fucking perfect, he thought.

The promise of future throatfucking that was preventing him from destroying your throat right now; opting to let you set the pace; might be seeing the light of day sooner than he though.

“Want me to help you sweet thing?” He asked, holding your cheek in his large palm, rubbing against your spit covered skin.

“P-please toji” you begged.

He felt the coil in his stomach tighten, this would not take long, but that was fine, he didn’t know if you would be able to take it for very long anyways.

Toji stood up in front of you, holding the sides of your head in his hands as he spoke, “Gonna fuck your throat okay?” he said, “If it’s too much jus’ tap my thigh n’ i’ll stop” he said, chest heaving before you took his cock back into your mouth.

You gripped your nails into his thighs, rubbing your legs together as you tried to alleviate some of the neediness you were feeling between your thighs.

You started to bob the first couple inches of him in your mouth, hands free; before he spoke. “Gonna move now ‘kay?” Toji waited till he felt you nod before he thrust his hips into your mouth.

You panicked a bit when you felt his cock slide down your throat, gagging around him when he pressed his balls completely to your chin, short hairs on his pelvis tickling your nose.

“Fucking- sh-ittt,” Toji groaned, holding you against him while you gagged and sputtered, “Relax your throat baby, ‘s okay, not gonna hurt ya” he comforted, “Took me so fucking well,” he continued praising.

Warning you before he started thrusting, you dug your nails into his skin, making him groan as he fucked his cock in and out of your wet cavern.

He cooed at you, watching the cat tears roll down your thighs as he mercilessly fucked your mouth. Years of unsatisfactory blowjobs and pent up need was being unleashed on your throat, and you were taking it like a fucking champ. “God, right fucking t-throat feels so good baby, you okay?” he asked, knowing you were in no place to give a proper respose, but he felt the agreement in vibrations around him when you tried to spoke

Making his smirk stretch across his face once more. Spit strings were connecting from your chin and his balls, as he kept up his bruising pace. “fuckfuckfuck,” toji let out a string of curses, “good-fucking-girl” he repeated in between thrusts.

The eye contact you were keeping with him was making him feel drunk, “Keep lookin at my baby, doin so good, keep those pretty eyes on me,” he instructed, biting his lip down at you.

He pulled your head off of his cock right before he came, letting you swallow down air as you let a small coughing fit wrack your lungs, toji pet your hair until the end of it.

“Doin so good,” he praised “I’m about to cum, Is it alright if I go a little harder? Wont take long sweet thing,” he promised.

Your small hand leaving his thigh to rub at your sore throat, strained voice pushing out your consent before he continued.

You used your hand to guide his cock back in your mouth, before dropping it back onto his thigh for stability. He wiped away your tears before he started up again, “You can take it,” he assured.

He curled his fingers into your head, gripping your hair as he brought your head into him to meet his thrusts, heavy balls slapping your chin with his mean thrusts, gagging and groans of approval being heard throughout the room.

Toji didn’t lie when he said this wouldn’t take long, his thrusts were so much rougher than before, more frequent too, leaving you with a shorter window to get air into your lungs between thrusts.

Vision starting to twinkle with spots when his thrusts started becoming erratic and losing their rhythm, “Take it take it fuck” his deep voice groaned, “So fucking close ohmygod“ he looked down at your fluttering eyes, new tears having been spilled over your cheeks at the harshness.

“Gonna swallow it all for me pretty girl? hmm?” The final straw being when you looked up at him, finally making eye contact with your fucked out eyes, “cumming- shit shit sh-“ he groaned long and deep, hot ropes of cum shooting down your throat as you used all the brainpower you had to swallow around him, trying not to pass out from the lack of air.

Roughly pulling your hair back by one of his big hands, the other coming down to stroke his hand quickly over his cock, the last of his seed being pained all over your pretty face.

The black dots in your vision started fading as you gulped air greedily into your lungs, sticking your tongue out instinctly while his hot cum landed in long streaks all over it.

“fuuuuuuuck” toji almost whined, cock still in hand as he flopped back down into the cushions. “think i almost died,” he said softly, chest heaving up and down like he just ran a marathon.

Sweat was beating off his face, face flushed red and eyes lidded as his soul slowly but surely came back into his body, you rested your head against his thigh as he stroked the side of your face.

Toji leaned down, scooping you up under your arms and placing you in his lap, cradling you against his hard chest as the two of you caught your breath, “think i’m addicted to ur mouth,” his voice resonating through his chest vibrating through your body when he spoke.

“Think my mouth is addicted to your cock,” your horse voice retaliated, making him wince in remorse, “fuck” he laughed, “you sound awful, promise i’ll make you some tea for your throat later” he promised, caressing the back of your head.

“later?” you asked, curious as to why he doesn’t go make a cup now as it only take a couple minutes, “gotta eat ur pussy out to show u how much I loved what ya’ did for me first.” he said, like it was obvious. “But i guess if ya’ want I can make you tea first.” he half joked.

You pulled back from his chest, grabbing his shirt and pulling him back onto the couch cushions with you, his huge frame swallowing yours, “tea can wait.” you smiled.

5K notes · View notes

moonlightwritingf1 · 6 days ago

Text

To New Beginnings | LN4

ᥫ᭡ summary ━━━━━━━ Y/n and Lando share a passionate kiss on New Year’s Eve, leading to an intimate connection. Despite her hesitations, Y/n gives in to the growing attraction between them.

ᥫ᭡ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

ᥫ᭡ word count ━━━━━━━ 6.1k

ᥫ᭡ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

The New Year’s Eve party was in full swing, the air thick with laughter, clinking glasses, and the bass-heavy thrum of music. Y/n stood just inside the doorway, her fingers nervously brushing over the delicate fabric of her dress. It was black, long, and clung to her curves in a way that made her feel both powerful and exposed. The neckline dipped low, revealing just enough to be daring without crossing into vulgarity. She had debated wearing it for hours, but now, standing here, she was glad she’d taken the risk.

This is it, she thought, taking a deep breath. Tonight, I let myself exist. Just for tonight.

She scanned the room, her eyes landing on familiar faces—friends from work, acquaintances from London’s social scene. But before she could fully settle into the space, her gaze locked onto someone else entirely. Lando.

He was across the room, leaning casually against the bar, a glass of champagne in hand. His dark hair was slightly messy, his tailored suit hugging his frame perfectly. Even from this distance, she could see the way his eyes lit up when he noticed her. He straightened, setting his glass down, and began making his way toward her.

Her heart skipped a beat. Why does he always look at me like that?

“Y/n,” he said as he approached, his voice smooth and warm, with just a hint of that teasing edge she’d come to expect from him. “You’re here.”

She forced herself to smile, though her cheeks were already flushing. “I am. It’s a party, after all.”

“Yes, but you’re here,” he emphasized, his eyes raking over her in a way that made her skin tingle. “And in that dress? You’re going to make it impossible for anyone else to get my attention tonight.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to play off the compliment. “Oh, please. You’ll forget about me the moment someone hands you another drink.”

He stepped closer, his hand brushing against her waist as if by accident. Was it an accident? She couldn’t tell. “I don’t think that’s possible,” he murmured, his voice lowering just enough that she had to lean in slightly to hear him. “Not when you’re standing there looking like… that.”

Y/n glanced away, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Only around you,” he said with a grin, his fingers lingering on her hip now, sending a shiver down her spine. “Come on, let’s get you a drink. You look like you need one.”

Before she could protest, he was guiding her toward the bar, his hand still firmly on her waist. She could feel the heat of his touch through the thin fabric of her dress, and it was distracting in a way she hadn’t anticipated. As they walked, she noticed the way people turned to watch them, their curious glances flickering between her and Lando. Do they think we’re together? The thought sent a strange mix of panic and something else—something warmer—through her chest.

At the bar, Lando ordered her a glass of wine, his arm brushing against hers as he leaned in to speak to the bartender. When he handed her the glass, his fingers lingered against hers for a moment too long. “To new beginnings,” he said, raising his own glass in a toast.

She clinked her glass against his, trying to ignore the way his eyes seemed to pierce right through her. “Cheers.”

They sipped their drinks in silence for a moment, the noise of the party swirling around them. But Lando didn’t seem interested in letting the conversation die. “So,” he said, tilting his head slightly as he studied her. “Why did it take so long for you to show up? I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

“I wasn’t sure if I would,” she admitted, tracing the rim of her glass with her finger. “But… I figured, why not? It’s New Year’s Eve.”

“And I’m glad you did,” he said, his voice softening. “Because now I get to spend the night with the most beautiful woman in the room.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re so full of it.”

“Am I?” he asked, stepping closer again, his free hand resting lightly on her hip. “Or are you just refusing to believe me?”

Her breath hitched slightly at the intensity in his gaze. “Maybe both.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Fair enough. But I’m not going to stop telling you until you believe me.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, the music shifted to a slower tempo, and Lando’s expression changed. There was a glint in his eye now, something playful and mischievous. “Dance with me,” he said, offering her his hand.

“What? No,” she protested, shaking her head. “I don’t dance.”

“Everyone dances on New Year’s Eve,” he countered, his fingers wrapping around hers before she could pull away. “Come on, Y/n. Live a little.”

She hesitated, glancing around the room. But something in the way he was looking at her—like she was the only person in the world—made her nod. Just one dance, she told herself. What’s the harm?

As he led her to the center of the room, his hand moved to her waist, pulling her close. She placed her free hand on his shoulder, feeling the firm muscle beneath his suit jacket. They began to sway to the music, and she was acutely aware of every point of contact between them—the warmth of his hand on her back, the press of his chest against hers, the way his breath brushed against her cheek.

“See?” he murmured, his lips close to her ear. “This isn’t so bad, is it?”

“I suppose not,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “Good. Because I’ve been waiting months for this.”

Her heart raced at his words, but before she could respond, he spun her gently, pulling her even closer this time. Their bodies were flush now, and she could feel the steady beat of his heart against hers. When the song ended, neither of them moved. Instead, they stood there, locked in each other’s embrace, the rest of the party fading into the background.

“Y/n,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “There’s something I need to—”

But before he could finish, the countdown to midnight began. The crowd erupted into cheers, and Y/n felt a surge of adrenaline. 10… 9… 8…

Lando’s eyes never left hers as the numbers ticked down. 7… 6… 5…

His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing gently against her skin. 4… 3… 2…

“Happy New Year,” he murmured, his lips hovering just inches from hers.

The clock struck midnight, and the room exploded into celebration. But Y/n barely noticed. All she could focus on was the way Lando was looking at her, the way his breath mingled with hers, the way his body pressed against her own.

“Happy New Year,” she whispered back, her heart pounding in her chest.

And then, slowly, almost hesitantly, he closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was soft and tentative at first, but quickly deepened into something more—something filled with longing and passion and all the unspoken things between them. Her hands slid up to cup his face, and she kissed him back with everything she had, finally letting herself give in to the feelings she’d been fighting for so long.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, their breaths uneven. “Y/n,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “I—”

Lando’s breath was still uneven, his forehead pressed against hers as if he couldn’t bear to pull away completely. His hands moved from her shoulders to her waist, fingers curling possessively into the soft fabric of her dress. “Y/n,” he murmured again, his voice low and rough with emotion. He didn’t finish whatever he had been about to say. Instead, he tilted his head, capturing her lips in another kiss—this one deeper, hungrier, more insistent.

Her hands slid up his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath her palms. She kissed him back with equal fervor, her body responding instinctively to his touch. When he finally pulled away, she was breathless, her cheeks flushed and her lips slightly swollen.

“You…” he began, but trailed off, his eyes searching hers for something. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it, because a slow, satisfied smile spread across his face. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, his lips were on hers again, his hands roaming over her body as if he needed to memorize every curve. His fingers trailed down her sides, brushing the hem of her dress before sliding underneath to trace patterns on her bare skin. She shivered at the sensation, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

“Cold?” he teased, his voice warm against her ear. She shook her head, unable to form words as his hands continued their exploration. He pressed kisses along her jawline, his lips grazing the sensitive spot just below her ear that made her knees go weak. Her fingers tightened in the fabric of his shirt, anchoring herself as she felt her resolve beginning to crumble.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling. But instead of stopping, he only intensified his efforts, his lips moving lower to trail kisses down her neck. His hands tightened around her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space between them.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against her skin, his breath hot and sending shivers down her spine. “I can’t stop looking at you. Can’t stop touching you.” His hands slid lower, resting on her hips for a moment before one dipped lower, brushing the curve of her ass. She froze, her breath catching in her throat.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, his voice laced with both desire and concern. She nodded, barely trusting herself to speak. The feel of his hand on her ass sent a jolt of electricity through her body, igniting something deep within her. He squeezed gently, testing her reaction, and when a small moan escaped her lips, he grinned against her skin.

“God, I love the sounds you make,” he whispered, his voice rougher now, filled with an intensity that made her heart race. His hand explored further, gripping her ass firmly this time, and another moan slipped past her lips before she could stop it. The sound seemed to embolden him, and he pressed another searing kiss to her lips.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed between kisses. “Everything about you… perfect.” His lips moved lower, trailing kisses across her collarbone and down to the edge of her dress. The neckline was low, exposing just enough skin to drive him wild, and he wasted no time in pressing his lips to the soft swell of her chest.

Y/n’s breath hitched, her fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed her there, each press of his lips sending waves of heat through her body. She could feel the tension building, coiling tight in her core, and she knew she was losing control. But for the first time, she didn’t care. She wanted this—wanted him—more than anything.

His tongue flicked out, teasing her skin, and she let out another soft moan, her body arching towards him involuntarily. He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against her skin, and she felt a surge of confidence at the way he reacted to her.

“You like that?” he asked, his voice muffled against her chest. She nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. He kissed her again, his lips lingering longer this time, before lifting his head to look at her. His eyes were filled with desire, and she could see the same need reflected in them that she felt burning inside her.

Lando’s lips moved to her ear, his breath warm and teasing. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down her spine. His hands traced the curve of her waist, their bodies were pressed together, the heat between them almost unbearable. Y/n could feel the hard outline of his desire against her, and it made her pulse quicken.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he continued, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “Wanted you. Every time I see you, it’s all I can think about. How beautiful you are. How much I need to touch you, to taste you.” He kissed her neck softly, his teeth grazing her skin just enough to make her gasp.

Y/n’s hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. She was losing herself in him, in the way he spoke, in the way he touched her. It was overwhelming, but she didn’t want it to stop. “Lando…” she breathed, her voice trembling with need.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into her eyes. His gaze was intense, filled with a mixture of adoration and hunger. “Tell me what you want,” he said again, his voice soft but commanding. “Tell me, and it’s yours.”

She hesitated for a moment, her heart racing. But then she leaned in, her lips brushing against his as she whispered, “I want you. All of you.”

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Lando’s face, and he cupped her cheek in his hand. “You have me,” he murmured before capturing her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue slid against hers, exploring every inch of her mouth as if he was memorizing her. His hands roamed her body, leaving trails of fire wherever they touched.

The party faded into the background, the music and laughter becoming nothing more than a distant hum. All that mattered was the two of them, the way they fit together, the way their bodies moved in sync. Lando’s hands slipped lower, gripping her hips as he pulled her even closer, his hardness pressing against her stomach.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily. Lando rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed as if savoring the moment. “Come home with me,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the noise of the party.

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat. She knew what he was asking, knew where this would lead. And yet, there was no hesitation in her answer. “Yes,” she said simply, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside her.

Lando’s smile was radiant, and he took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. They slipped out of the party unnoticed, the cool night air hitting them as they stepped outside. Lando led her to his car, opening the door for her with a gentlemanly charm that made her smile.

The drive to his apartment was quiet, the tension between them palpable. Y/n could feel Lando’s eyes on her every now and then, his gaze burning with desire. She kept her eyes on the road, her mind racing with anticipation. What would happen when they got there? Would she be able to handle the intensity of his feelings? The depth of her own?

When they finally arrived, Lando parked the car and turned to her, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice soft but serious.

Y/n met his gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. “I’m sure,” she said, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside her.

Lando smiled, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “Good,” he murmured before leaning in to kiss her gently. Then he got out of the car and came around to open her door, taking her hand in his as they walked to the elevator.

The ride up to his apartment seemed to take forever, the silence between them filled with unspoken words and promises. When the doors finally opened, Lando led her down the hallway to his door, unlocking it and stepping aside to let her in.

His apartment was modern and sleek, just like she had imagined. But she didn’t have time to take it all in before Lando’s arms were around her, his lips crashing down on hers in a kiss that left her breathless. She responded eagerly, her hands tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer.

Lando’s hands moved to the zipper of her dress, slowly pulling it down as he kissed her neck, his lips trailing hot kisses along her skin. The dress fell to the floor, pooling at her feet, leaving her standing in nothing but her black lace underwear. Lando’s eyes darkened as he took her in, his gaze roaming over her body with undisguised hunger.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of her hip before moving up to cup her breast. Her breath hitched as his thumb brushed over her nipple, sending sparks of pleasure through her.

He leaned down, his lips closing over her other nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. Y/n moaned softly, her hands gripping his shoulders as waves of pleasure washed over her. Lando alternated between sucking and licking, his hands exploring every inch of her body as if he couldn’t get enough of her.

“Lando…” she gasped, her head falling back as his mouth moved lower, kissing a trail down her stomach. His hands gripped her hips, holding her steady as he knelt in front of her, his eyes filled with longing.

“I want to taste every part of you,” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin.

Lando’s breath hitched as he pulled Y/n's panties down, his eyes widening at the sight before him. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with hunger. She was soaking wet, her arousal glistening in the dim light of the room. Her pussy was flushed and dripping, and Lando felt like he might lose his mind just looking at her.

He glanced up at her, a devilish smirk playing on his lips. “Is this because of me?” he teased, his fingers lightly brushing over her slick folds. Y/n let out a sharp gasp, her hips arching toward his touch involuntarily. Lando chuckled darkly, his thumb circling her clit slowly, deliberately. “You love playing hard to get, but in reality, you’re desperate for me as much as I am for you, baby.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed, but she couldn’t deny the truth in his words. Her body betrayed her, trembling under his touch, her core aching for more. “Lando…” she whispered, her voice breathless and pleading.

“Tell me,” he demanded, his fingers still teasing her, just barely touching where she needed him most. “Tell me how much you want me.”

She bit her lip, trying to hold back the whimper that threatened to escape. “I… I want you,” she admitted, her voice shaking. “So much.”

Lando’s grin widened, and he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her inner thigh. “Good girl,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. His mouth moved closer to her center, and Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. She could feel his tongue flicking lightly against her, tasting her, savoring her.

“God, you’re delicious,” he groaned, his hands gripping her thighs to keep her spread open for him. He licked a long stripe up her slit, and Y/n moaned loudly, her hands flying to grip the sheets beneath her. “Lando!”

He didn’t hesitate, diving in with an intensity that left her gasping. His tongue swirled around her clit, slow and deliberate at first, then faster, harder. Y/n’s back arched off the bed, her legs trembling uncontrollably. “Oh my God…” she whimpered, her fingers tangling in his hair.

Lando hummed against her, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. He slipped two fingers inside her, curling them just right, and Y/n cried out, her hips bucking against his face. “Yes, yes, yes!” she chanted, her entire body coiled tight with tension.

He continued to devour her, his tongue and fingers working in perfect harmony, driving her closer and closer to the edge. Y/n’s moans grew louder, more desperate, her body writhing beneath him. “Please, Lando, please!” she begged, her nails digging into his scalp.

“Come for me, baby,” he urged, his voice rough with desire. “Let go. I want to feel you come undone.”

And she did. The orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave, her body convulsing as she screamed his name. Lando didn’t let up, licking and sucking her through it until she was a trembling, boneless mess beneath him.

When he finally pulled away, Y/n was gasping for air, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Lando wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes hungry as he looked down at her. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come,” he said, his voice low and husky.

Y/n blushed, still reeling from the intensity of her climax. “Lando… that was…” she trailed off, unable to find the words.

He grinned, crawling up her body to hover over her. “Just wait,” he whispered, his lips brushing against hers. “We’re just getting started.”

His kiss was deep and searing, and Y/n could taste herself on his tongue. It should have been strange, but instead, it only fueled her desire. Her hands roamed over his chest, feeling the hard planes of his muscles beneath her fingertips. She wanted him—all of him.

Lando broke the kiss, his eyes locking onto hers. “I need you, Y/n,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “Not just your body. All of you.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, and she nodded, her eyes welling with tears. “I need you too,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Then let me show you how much you mean to me,” he said, his hand sliding down to grip his cock, positioning himself at her entrance.

Y/n’s breath hitched as she felt the tip of him pressing against her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Please,” she begged, her body already craving him.

Lando hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching hers. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice gentle.

She nodded, her hands moving to cup his face. “I’ve never been more sure of anything,” she whispered.

With that, Lando pushed into her slowly, inch by inch, giving her time to adjust to his size. Y/n’s eyes fluttered shut, a soft moan escaping her lips as she felt him fill her completely. “You’re so tight,” he groaned, his forehead resting against hers.

They stayed like that for a moment, both of them breathing heavily, savoring the connection between them. Then Lando began to move, his thrusts slow and deep, each one sending waves of pleasure coursing through Y/n’s body.

“God, you feel amazing,” he whispered, his hands gripping her hips as he picked up the pace. Y/n’s moans grew louder, her nails digging into his back as she urged him on.

Their bodies moved together in perfect sync, their breaths mingling as they lost themselves in each other. Y/n could feel another orgasm building, stronger than the last, and she clung to Lando, her cries of pleasure filling the room.

“Come with me, baby,” Lando growled, his thrusts becoming more frantic. Y/n nodded, her body tightening around him as she tumbled over the edge once again. Lando followed soon after, his release spilling into her as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

For a moment, they stayed like that, their hearts racing, their bodies still intertwined. Then Lando pulled out, collapsing beside her and pulling her into his arms.

“That was…” Y/n began, but Lando cut her off with a kiss.

“Perfect,” he finished, his fingers tracing patterns on her bare skin. “You’re perfect.”

Y/n smiled, snuggling closer to him. “So are you,” she whispered, her eyes closing as exhaustion began to take over. She could feel Lando’s arms tighten around her, and for the first time in a long time, she felt safe, cherished, loved.

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of their breathing, tangled together in the aftermath of passion. Lando’s fingers trailed lazily up and down Y/n’s arm, his touch leaving a trail of warmth that made her shiver. She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, her own still fluttering from what had just transpired between them.

“You okay?” Lando murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a ripple of heat through her. His hand paused on her shoulder, fingertips brushing against her skin as if he couldn’t stop touching her.

Y/n tilted her head to look at him, a small smile playing on her lips. “More than okay,” she admitted, her voice soft but sure. “That was… incredible.”

Lando grinned, the kind of grin that made her stomach tighten in the most delicious way. “Good,” he said simply, because what else was there to say? His fingers resumed their slow exploration, tracing circles over her shoulder now, the touch tender, almost reverent. “Because I plan on making it even better next time.”

She laughed, a light, breathy sound that made his chest swell with pride. “Confident, are we?”

“With you?” Lando leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “Always.” The warmth of his breath sent a shiver down her spine, and she instinctively pressed closer to him, craving more of his touch, more of him.

They fell into a comfortable silence again, the weight of what had just happened settling over them. It wasn’t just the physical connection—though that had been earth-shattering—it was the emotional one too. Y/n could feel it, this undeniable pull toward him, something deeper than attraction, something that scared her a little but also filled her with a strange sense of peace.

Lando broke the silence first, his voice softer now, more serious. “Hey,” he started, his fingers stilling on her back. “Can I ask you something?”

Y/n shifted slightly so she could meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, intense, and they held hers with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. “Of course,” she replied, her voice a little steadier than she felt.

He hesitated for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. “Why did you keep pushing me away?” he asked finally, his tone gentle, not accusing. “All those months, all those gifts… I thought…” He trailed off, shaking his head slightly. “I guess I just want to understand why it took so long for you to let me in.”

Y/n exhaled slowly, her mind racing. She hadn’t expected this. Not now, not after everything they’d just shared. But she owed him honesty, didn’t she? They were past the point of pretenses.

“I was scared,” she admitted quietly, her eyes dropping to where her fingers fiddled with the edge of the sheet. “Scared of getting hurt, scared of… of not being enough for someone like you.”

Lando frowned, his hand lifting to cup her cheek, forcing her to look at him again. “Y/n,” he said her name with such tenderness it nearly stole her breath. “You’re more than enough. You’re everything. Don’t you see that?”

Her throat tightened, emotions swirling inside her like a storm she couldn’t control. “It’s not just that,” she continued, her voice trembling now. “Your life… it’s so different from mine. You’re this famous, successful man, and I’m just… ordinary. And your past—all those women—it made me think maybe I was just another conquest to you.”

Lando’s expression softened, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone. “You’re not ordinary,” he said firmly. “And my past… yeah, I’ve made mistakes. But none of them meant anything. Not like this. Not like you.” He paused, his gaze searching hers. “Do you believe me?”

Y/n nodded, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “I do,” she whispered. “I just… I needed to know you were serious about me. That this wasn’t just some fling for you.”

“It’s not,” Lando assured her, his voice steady, unwavering. “I’ve never been more serious about anyone in my life. And I want this—us—to be real.”

She blinked, surprised by the raw sincerity in his words. “You really mean that?”

“Every word,” he replied without hesitation. “And I want to prove it to you. Properly. Will you go on a date with me? A real one, no pressure, just… you and me.”

Y/n felt a smile tug at her lips, despite the tears still threatening to fall. “A date, huh?” she teased, her voice lightening as she wiped at her eyes. “What, flowers and dinner and all that?”

Lando chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “If that’s what you want, then yes. But honestly, I’d take you anywhere, as long as it means I get to spend time with you.”

She pretended to consider it, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm… tempting. Very tempting.”

His grin widened, his hand slipping around her waist to pull her closer. “Is that a yes?” he asked, his tone hopeful, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Y/n feigned reluctance, though her heart was already racing at the thought. “I don’t know… you’ll have to convince me.”

Lando’s laughter filled the room, and before she could react, he rolled her beneath him, his body pressing hers into the mattress. “Oh, I’ll convince you, alright,” he murmured, his lips grazing her neck in a way that made her gasp. “Starting right now.”

She giggled, squirming beneath him, though her hands found their way to his shoulders, holding him close. “You’re insatiable,” she accused, though there was no real bite to her words.

“Only for you,” he replied, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was both tender and possessive, leaving her breathless when he finally pulled away. “So? Date night?”

Y/n sighed, pretending to weigh her options, though she knew her answer already. “Fine,” she said with mock exasperation. “But only if you promise to behave yourself.”

Lando smirked, his hand sliding down her side in a way that made her shiver. “No promises,” he quipped, leaning in to kiss her again, slower this time, more deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world.

When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers, his breathing uneven. “Thank you,” he whispered, the sincerity in his voice making her chest ache. “For giving me a chance.”

Y/n reached up to brush a strand of hair from his face, her heart swelling with emotion. “Thank you,” she replied softly. “For not giving up on me.”

They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other, the world outside forgotten. Then Lando cleared his throat, his lips quirking into a playful smirk. “So… since we’re officially dating now…”

She raised an eyebrow, already sensing where this was going. “Yes?”

Lando’s grin turned downright wicked. “Does that mean I can tell everyone you’re my girlfriend? Because, let me tell you, I’ve been dying to show you off.”

Y/n felt her cheeks flush, but she couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he conceded, leaning in to nip at her bottom lip. “But I’m yours. All yours.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, and before she could respond, he captured her lips in another searing kiss, one that left no doubt in her mind that he meant every word.

Lando’s lips lingered on hers, soft and sweet, before he pulled back just enough to whisper against her mouth. ”You know, I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. For you.” His voice was low, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver down Y/n’s spine.

She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing playfully. ”Oh? And how many other girls have you said that to?” Her tone was teasing, but there was a hint of vulnerability beneath it, a question she hadn’t meant to ask but couldn’t hold back.

Lando’s expression softened, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone. ”None,” he said firmly, his gaze locked onto hers. ”Because none of them were you. None of them ever could be.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. He was too much—too intense, too raw, too honest. It made her want to retreat, to shield herself from the way his words seemed to reach into her chest and wrap around her heart. But at the same time, she wanted to lean into it, to let herself feel everything he was offering.

Instead, she smirked, leaning back slightly. ”Careful, Lando. That almost sounded like a love confession.”

He blinked, then laughed, shaking his head. ”What if it was?”

Y/n froze, her playful demeanor faltering. ”What?”

His laughter faded, replaced by something far more serious. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs stroking her cheeks as his eyes searched hers. ”I said, what if it was? What if I told you I’m in love with you? Because I am. Completely, ridiculously, stupidly in love with you.”

The room seemed to tilt, her stomach doing somersaults as his words sank in. She stared at him, her mind racing. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not yet. Not like this. She wasn’t ready for this kind of honesty, this kind of intensity. But as she looked into his eyes, she realized she didn’t have a choice. He’d already laid himself bare, and now it was her turn.

Still, old habits died hard, and she couldn’t resist falling back on her usual defense mechanism: teasing. ”In love with me?Really? After only one night together? That doesn’t sound very self-controlled of you.”

Lando groaned, dropping his forehead against hers. ”’Y/n… You’re killing me here.”

She grinned, feeling a little more in control now that she’d thrown him off balance. ”Am I? Because it seems like you’re the one who’s being all dramatic. ‘Completely, ridiculously, stupidly in love’? That’s quite the declaration.”

He lifted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly, though there was no real annoyance in his expression. ”You’re really going to tease me about this?”_

”Maybe,” she said with a shrug, her grin widening. ”Or maybe I just don’t believe you.”

That got a reaction. Lando’s hands slid down to her waist, pulling her closer until their bodies were pressed together. ”You don’t believe me?” he repeated, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. ”Then let me prove it to you.”

Before she could respond, his lips crashed onto hers, cutting off any retort she might have had. It wasn’t a gentle kiss—it was desperate, hungry, full of all the emotions he’d just confessed. His tongue swept into her mouth, claiming her in a way that left no room for doubt. She moaned softly, her hands gripping his shoulders as she kissed him back, her teasing forgotten in the heat of the moment.

When he finally pulled away, they were both breathing heavily. ”Now do you believe me?” he asked, his voice rough.

She bit her lip, trying to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. ”Maybe,” she said again, though her tone was softer this time. ”But I think you might need to try harder to convince me.”

Lando groaned again, but there was a spark of amusement in his eyes. ”You’re impossible, you know that?”

”And yet here you are, declaring your undying love for me,” she shot back, her grin returning.

He shook his head, but he was smiling too. ”Yeah, well, I guess I’m a masochist.”

Y/n laughed, the sound light and carefree, and Lando’s heart swelled at the sight of her happiness. He’d do anything to keep that smile on her face, even if it meant putting up with her endless teasing.

They spent the next hour talking, laughing, and stealing kisses, neither of them willing to let the other go. Eventually, though, exhaustion began to creep in, and Y/n found herself stifling a yawn.

”Tired?” Lando asked, his fingers gently carding through her hair.

”A little,” she admitted, leaning into his touch.

”Come on, let’s get some rest,” he said, standing up and holding out his hand to her.

She hesitated for a moment, then took his hand, letting him lead her to the bedroom. They settled under the covers together, Lando wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. ”Goodnight, Y/n,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

”Goodnight, Lando,” she murmured back, her eyelids already drooping.

As she drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the warmth of his embrace, she couldn’t help but smile. Maybe, just maybe, she was starting to believe him after all.

479 notes · View notes

anaconamor · 3 months ago

Text

night in - jb blurb.

warm bubble feeling burns your chest as you feel jude place a kiss on your temple, sitting right next to you on the floor, placing your hot drink next to his. “you’re having way to much fun on this,” he teased, resting his chin on your shoulder, while looking at you intently as you finished the second bag of the moana’s flowerpot legos.

“i fear i’m having way too much fun,” you joke back, clicking and connecting the small lego. “you realize these are made for nine year olds right?” he pushed further, helping you separate the legos in piles so you could find the legos easier. “so? i don’t complain when you play fifa at your grown age? screaming like a little girl when you unpack a player?” you defend watching jude open his mouth in shock, a glimmer of surprise in his eyes.

“i’m glad we stayed in. i haven’t seen you much lately and i didn’t want to have just dinner and the call if a night. i love these little moments with you, d’you know? our playlist playing in the back, some baking, maybe cooking? but definitely how i have you all to myself…” jude says, his hand running up and down your spine, making you spin and face him directly where you brush a tamed curl back to already done hair.

“sounds like you just want to keep me for yourself?” you say watching how jude is ready to explain and yap but you cut him off quickly. “i’m kidding. i love staying in dates. especially around this time of your when your season is beginning to get hectic. believe it or not these dates have so much more meanings to when we’re out. i get to see a side of you only i can experience and see, and im so incredibly grateful for that. for you,” you smile leaning into his side where jude shyly looks down.

“don’t get shy with me mister.”

“oh like how you get shy after we-”

“okay so that’s like completely different?” you laugh dismissing the idea that was brewing in his head. “also i get to play house when i’m here. look at this place! the kitchen? the pool? the garden? the garden is my favorite we’ve grown so much in just under a year!” you say excitedly, giving up on the lego set, as now all you wanted was to be next with jude. to feel his safe embrace, his scent, to feel the comfort only he can give.

“those damn bunnies ruined it at first, i swear i was going to insane. i just know they were doing it on purpose after one stared me down as it ate the cherry tomatoes!” jude reclaimed, leaning back against the couch, bringing you to his lap where he traced your bracelet and the tiny tattoo on your thigh. the one of many you had, but this one was jude’s favorite. you didn’t have to tell him, but he could tell it was meant for him.

“to be fair you tormented that poor thing,” you recalled, thinking of the endless possibilities jude did so he could get rid of the bunnies in a happy manner. “it got what it deserved,” jude shrugged, taking a sip of mug, offering one of the infamous pumpkin pilsbury cookies to you.

“what else is on your fall bucket list?”

“we’ve done mostly all besides watching scary movies, visit a pumpkin patch and get a couples costume for trent’s party soon. besides that we’ve knocked everything else out,” you say cheery, the sense of joy never leaving you, knowing you were able to cross off and completely those wishes. “what has been your favorite activity yet?” he asked, tugging on a tiny string from your knitted sweater.

“probably decorating your house for the fall, since it was way to white… that or when we painted the pumpkins with the little kids,” you spoke softy and gently. watching jude’s eyes crinkle from paying attention to remembering the beautiful memory. “i really enjoyed that too, but nothing could beat fright fest,” jude laugh making you shake your head rapidly. t

“jude! i still haven’t forgave you for that! you take us to apparently a theme park and then walking in, there’s horror everywhere. especially those damn clowns…” you say, a tint of nervousness as you spoke out loud. “but i made it up to you,” he pouts, leaning up and pulling your face closer to his. “i won you a plenty stuffed animals and went downstairs for a week to get a glass of water. i was your protector.”

“you always are,” you hug him, your fingers grazing and tracing his ears down to his. “the beard has grown on me. you look very manly,” you say, his hairs tickling your palm. “i was thinking about shaving it soon,” he says, feeling completely relaxed as you touched him. it was that effect you had on him and he loved that so much. no feeling or person could make him feel the way you felt.

“nope. it will take too long for me to get used to,” you deny shaking your head as jude chuckles, grabbing your thighs and placing you on your back, jude not holding back from his physical touch. peppering kisses on your forehead, nose, cheeks, your lips then down to your neck where you had another tattoo. your weak spot. “stop it, i know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work,” you warn.

“i’m just trying to show you my love and affection,” he said sarcastically, playing with the fabric on your chest, as he had layed his head gently on you. “yes but you have two meanings towards that… your mom is also right upstairs…” you whisper the last part, afraid of speaking to loudly. this was her house as much as it was his as well. he sighs, accepting defeat and pulling you closer to him. not before pulling you into a kiss that made you want to say fuck it. that damn kiss that forever leaves you breathless and wanting more.

“we should watch a horror movie,” you try to say between his kiss but jude was to focused on you. how you kissed him. how you tasted. feeling weaker but also stronger than ever. “no,” he stoped, this time flipping you over so you could lay on his chest.

“right i forgot. you’re a scaredy cat when it comes-”

“no i’m not! i just don’t want to bring any bad energy in my house,” he cheesed hardly, looking up knowing you were giving him a “are you serious look”.

“the best i can do is watch the nightmare before christmas. take it or leave it,” he shrugged hearing you laugh. “works for me, i’ll hold you tight so you don’t run off,” you teased, jude gasping. “listen the movie is already creepy as it is… especially that little scientist,” he shuddered.

after cleaning up and putting away any mess and cleaning the dishes, instead of traumatizing your tall boyfriend, you settled with his choice of movie. happy either way since you knew jude loved showing you his collection of favorite old films. another part of his love language towards you. you couldn’t count how many times, not just with movies, but items, people even, that meant so much to him.

“are you sleepy?” you whisper, jude nodding. “i am but i want to stay up because i want to spend all the time i can with you,” he yawned, kissing your head. “i can stay the night if that’s okay with you and your mom,” you suggested knowing jude would be immediately agreeing. “my mom adores you and you know she would rather have you stay than leave so late, especially me,” jude said, his thumb drawing circles on your hip.

“i’ll stay,” you smile, cuddling closer to jude as he looked down and smiled. not holding back from taking a picture and posting it, with an old school r&b song. soft launching you once again to the world. which you didn’t mind. “hey, why aren’t we shark boy and lava girl for trent’s party? or-” jude said abruptly.

“i’m leaving.”

“wait no!”

#judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb

557 notes · View notes

cherimoyatea · 2 months ago

Text

The LaDs Men healing your inner child...

...they accidentally evoke your insecurities and comfort you.

❧ Part IV - Sylus - Tight Threads

Pairing: Sylus x You Synopsis: An ill-fitting dress triggers a panic attack during a date with Sylus. Word count: 963 Tags: sylus being a suggestive little tease, panic attack, body image issue, romance, fluff, comfort Side notes: Welcome to the last part of the mini-series! Fun fact: The plot (some parts at least) is based on true events, but unfortunately, there was no Sylus to comfort me back then 🫠 I refrained from going into details about MC's body type so that anyone can envision themselves in the role. A tight dress can be uncomfortable no matter the size and shape. However. Sylus loves you just the way you are! And with that, this series comes to an end. Thank you for reading 🩷 Part I - Xavier ❧ Part II - Rafayel ❧ Part III - Zayne

Ruby-red eyes gaze at you intently from across the round table as you nervously fidget with your dress. The restaurant he chose is even more lavish than you imagined and your nerves are on edge. In this dress that's way too tight and short, you feel as if you can't breathe, and you can't shake the impression that all the other guests are focused on your insecurities.

''Is everything okay, Kitten? You seem... tense.'' Sylus swirls his glass of red wine between his long fingers while you nervously shift in your chair. You blush as you suddenly feel his gaze on you and adjust your dress again. ''Sylus, I appreciate your invitation, but you didn't need to go this far.''

Maybe you should have mentioned that the custom-made dress didn't fit properly when he handed you the pink paper bag with it earlier. You remember standing in your bathroom, holding it up against your body and squeezing yourself into it while he waited in your living room—hoping he wouldn't hear you curse as you struggled to pull the zipper up at the back.

There was likely a mistake by the seamstress, but you still insisted on wearing it to honor his gift.

The silver-haired man takes a sip from his glass and leans back to make room for the waiter as he approaches your table with your orders. For him, it's just another evening in a high-end restaurant, but he has noticed that you're uncomfortable. ''If you'd prefer, we can move our date somewhere else. Would you like to leave?''

You shake your head as the waiter sets your plate down, unwilling to shift the date elsewhere. After all it's not his fault that the dress was poorly tailored, accentuating all the parts of you that you are self-conscious about. You grab your own glass nervously, hoping a sip of your drink will help calm your nerves. But instead, you both startle as you accidentally tip it over, sending it crashing to the floor.

"Oh dear, how clumsy." You hear whispers from a nearby table, accompanied by giggles, as the waiter gathers the shards from the floor. You can't help but feel sick as you cautiously look around, realizing everyone is staring at you.

Sylus's head immediately swivels toward the table of giggling women, and his serious glare silences them instantly. They sheepishly return their focus to their plates, poking at their food, and you could swear you saw a brief flash of red in his left eye.

But right now, you have other worries.

"Excuse me!" You quickly stand up from the table and hurry through the restaurant, heading to the restroom to escape. Your heart races as you crouch by the luxurious sinks, resting your head on your knees in an attempt to calm your quickening breath. A panic attack, of all times!

Just a few moments later, you hear the door to the restroom open, and someone approaches you slowly, crouching down beside you. Without looking up, you know immediately that Sylus has followed you. He lowers his head with a concerned expression and gently takes your hand. ''I'm here for you. What do you need?''

''T-The… the zipper…'' You stutter as you continue gasping for air, futilely reaching with your free hand for the zipper pull between your shoulder blades. Sylus follows your movement with his eyes and then yanks the zipper down your back in one swift motion. ''Calm, deep breaths, Sweetie. It'll get better soon.''

His rough, calm voice is soothing as he gently strokes your trembling back, careful not to overwhelm you with his presence. And finally, you feel the tension slowly lift from your body for the first time that evening as you take a deep breathe.

Sylus waits patiently beside you, continuing to stroke your back, and after a while, your breathing steadies. ''I'm so sorry… I've ruined the evening.'' You whisper weakly as he gently helps you stand up from the cold marble floor.

''Take off your dress, Kitten.''

Sylus doesn't answer immediately, giving you a moment to steady yourself before he moves closer with a charming grin.

Your eyes widen in surprise at his request, completely caught off guard by his sudden change in demeanor as you look at him in disbelief. ''W-What?!''

Your heels scrape against the marble floor as you step back, feeling the sink behind you. This time it wasn't a panic attack that caused your heart to race in your chest! ''Here!? Now?? Are you serious!?''

''Dead serious.'' The attractive giant replies as he almost towers over you. It's only when he grabs a familiar-looking pink paper bag from the floor that his words make sense. Until now, you had been so focused on managing your panic attack that you didn't notice him bringing it into the restroom. He takes out your favorite jeans and a sweater, and hands them to you with a smug grin. ''I took the liberty of borrowing a few things from your closet before we left. I hope you don't mind.''

Surprised by his thoughtful gesture, you take the clothes and press them against your chest. He must have overheard you earlier in your apartment and snuck into your bedroom to get the clothes and empty paper bag while you were busy getting ready. ''But... what about the dress? This casual outfit would be completely inappropriate for a venue as expensive as this.''

You shift your gaze down to the dress, now hanging loosely from your shoulders. The zipper torn at the back. But Sylus shakes his head as he gently lifts your chin with his fingers so his gleaming eyes meet yours again.

''I don't care about that damn dress, Sweetie. You're the only expensive thing in this inappropriate venue. Remember that.''

Thank you for reading!

Cheri 🍒

567 notes · View notes

harryspet · 4 months ago

Text

well kept [5] r. cameron

[warnings] dark!ceo!rafe x reader, size difference, billionaire!older!rafe, shy!reader with low self-esteem, reader is a person who stutters, boss x personal assistant, heavy abuse of power, emotional/mental manipulation, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: even longer chapter :)

word count: 5.3k

In which Rafe presents you with his plan for your future and you question the true cost of his offer.

well kept masterlist

You breathed easy for the first time in a long while. You laughed, smiled, and your heart beat at a normal pace. You sipped your drink not from nervousness but from a desire to truly enjoy yourself. The evening was about fun and connection, and you were determined to embrace it.

The week following your cabin trip had been a deep pit of depression. Your friends, concerned by your obvious distress, had insisted you join them for the weekend. They only saw the stress of work weighing on you, Rafe’s hidden bruises were invisible to them. You had opted for jeans and a crop top, deliberately avoiding a dress that might reveal the lingering marks of his anger.

It was an act of rebellion to wear something Rafe hadn’t picked out but it was freeing. It was time you accepted that he didn’t own you 24/7, he had no right to you two days out of the week.

You bought your friends drinks, a part of the new perk that came with having salary. You liked treating them but every swipe of your card reminded you of all you were putting up with to get it.

What Rafe did to you, he did out of selfishness, no one who cared for you truly could treat you like he did. You certainly weren’t a couple like everyone in Rafe’s close circle assumed you were. You didn’t know much about relationships or what real love looked like, but you were certain of one thing: whatever you had with Rafe would never evolve into something warm and tender enough to be labeled as love. You were reclaiming some normalcy. Or at least, that was what you hoped for.

The three of you had decided to move the party back to your apartment at 2 AM, and the city lights flickered like stars in the darkened sky. Imani, with her arm securely interlocked with yours, clung to you, her presence both comforting and grounding amidst the night’s chaos.

You squeezed into the backseat, chatter and laughter from the evening buzzed in your ears. Angel was making smalltalk with the driver because that was just the type of person she was. Closest to the window, you checked your phone for the first time all night. Three messages from Rafe. Your heart started to beat in the rattled way it had been, pressing against your ribcage in a way that made you feel like you couldn’t breathe.

Two images of you. Outfits you’d sent him. Along with a message.

For Monday and Tuesday. - R.C.

Sent at ten the night before. Imani leaned closer and you locked your phone, shoving it between your legs.

“He’s really texting you? It’s Saturday.”

“Sunday now,” You tried to not sound rattled as you met her eyes.

“Like that makes a difference,” You expected her tone to be light given the vodka on her breath and silly pop songs playing on the radio, “No wonder you’re going crazy.”

“Crazy?” You laughed but it came out hollow, “Y-You guys thought I was sad and now I’m going crazy?”

“Yes,” She spoke matter-of-factly, “And it’s strange that you won’t tell us anything about him.”

“I don’t wanna talk about this,” You said, realizing she wasn’t going to drop it. You wondered if this was her plan, to get you drunk and then pry out all the gossip about your new boss.

“I’m really worried, Y/N,” She said, “You don’t have to tell us everything but at least … let us help. We can help, I promise.”

Angel tuned into the conversation, realizing it had gone serious, “Yeah, my Mom and Dad are literally cops, Y/N. Just say the word-”

“I promise it’s not that serious, Angel,” you said, shaking your head. The idea of involving the police felt almost laughable given the magnitude of Rafe’s wealth and influence. “I told you g-g-g-guys, he’s just a demanding asshole.”

“If it’s not that serious than why has he been over at our apartment? If you’re not sleeping together or not dating?”

“It’s complicated,” You spoke robotically.

“We want to be there for you,” Angel added. You wanted to believe that. If you told them the truth, you’d have to explain why you hadn’t walked away yet. Rafe had given you every reason to quit and yet here you were.

“You guys are there for me. I-I-I appreciate this night so much. I’ve just b-b-b-been letting work consume me. You guys have pulled me out of my fog. This next wwww-week will be better because I’m actually taking care of myself.”

It was an excuse, a way to rationalize why you hadn’t walked away from Rafe yet. You started to believe it, convincing yourself that things would get better just because you were trying to take care of yourself now.

“Just because he’s rich doesn’t mean he gets to have your body,” The world seemed to go quiet after Imani spoke those words. The music quieted and both you and Angel stared at her, the heavy silence enveloping the three of you.

“She’s right, you know,” Angel said softly.

How had she seen so clearly what you were trying to hide? Why were they prying into your life? You were an adult, after all. You should have the right to make your own decisions, however flawed they might seem to others. But their concern felt invasive, as if they were prying into a private struggle you were barely managing to keep under control.

Pity.

Your best friends pitied you, “Oh, y-you’re not serious,” You smiled crazily, “He’s not …I’m nnn-n-not …you both have it so so wrong.”

They stared at you, trying to guage your reaction, but your heart and brain were going crazy. You couldn’t pick what emotion to convey because you were feeling all of them.

“I’m drunk,” You rested your head back, “I’m so drunk.”

As the rideshare pulled up to your apartment building, you fumbled with your seatbelt, eager to escape the heavy conversation, “Y/N, we didn’t mean to upset you,” You heard Angel say at they followed you out of the car.

“I’m okay. So okay.”

You wanted to hurry inside the lobby but felt a hand wrap around your arm, “Y/N,” Imani stopped you.

You whipped your head around, panicked, “I’m fine. I sss-said I’m fine.”

“You boss’s car is parked over there.”

You followed her pointed finger, and your blood ran cold. There it was—Rafe’s sleek black car, parked conspicuously outside your building. “Wha—” you stammered, unable to process the sight of it, “Oh.”

“Why the fuck is he here?” Imani cursed.

“I’ll meet you guys inside–”

“Go talk to him but we’re standing right here until you’re done,” Imani crossed her arms in front of her and gave you pointed look.

“Angel,” You looked at you other friend, pleading.

She shook her head, “We’re standing here, Y/N.”

“Fine,” You whispered. It was a quiet declaration of your frustration, a statement of your internal struggle.

They didn’t trust you. You could take care of yourself. This would upset Rafe, you knew it would. You took a deep breath as you wandered towards the small parking lot beside your building. His bright truck lights shined against the brick of the building and you saw his arm resting outside the window, fingers drumming nervous on the frame. You pulled at your crop top, wanting to force it to be longer, as you got closer.

“Y/N,” His voice cut through the night air with a sharp edge.

Tonight, Rafe’s blue eyes were wild. Instead of the usual darkness you saw behind his pupils, you saw wildness. Dark circles under his eyes spoke of sleepless nights, and his other hand was busy rubbing worried circles over his buzzed haircut, a nervous habit you hadn’t seen before.

“Rafe, wh-what are you doing out here?” You dropped the formalities. It felt wrong to address him with respect, more than it usually did, when he was sitting outside of your apartment at two in the morning.

He looked you over once, before his door opened, and he climbed out. Dressed in a polo and khaki shorts, he left his car running, before he was standing in front of you. Only a foot away and already you weren’t breathing correctly. He moved closer but you said, “You shouldn’t touch me.”

Hurt, confused, he gave you a look you hadn’t seen before, “Why not?”

You gestured as subtly as you could, to your two friend who were settled under the awning that hung over your apartment buildings entrance, “My roommates are waiting for me.”

Rafe’s jaw ticked, before his hands found his hips, “Right,” He nodded before he laughed, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I just feel crazy tonight, you know?”

Yes, you knew. Now your crazy was starting to feel like nothing compared to whatever was building inside of your boss. He was different tonight, younger, and out of control, “What are you doing out here?” You asked again, “It’s two in the mmm-morning.”

“Yeah, I didn’t mean to show up like this. I just wanted to talk to you. I came earlier and you weren’t here and I … I started spiraling, you know? You’ve been out all night. I don’t like …I just felt fucking nervous.”

“Nervous b-because I went out with mmm-mmm-my friends?” Your words were cautious but you couldn’t help that your eyebrows raised in confusion.

“I needed to see you.”

“You see me now,” You said, “What … what is it?”

Rafe took a breath, “I made a mistake at the cabin and I think, ever since then, you’ve been distant.”

You nodded as you tried to understand his meaning. He made a mistake when he spanked you with a belt, making two of his close acquaintances listen to you scream, and leaving you to cry yourself to sleep. The distance he now complained about was a direct result of his actions—a defense mechanism you’d put in place to protect yourself. And yet, here he was, expressing frustration over your response, as if your withdrawal was the real issue rather than his behavior.

“Rafe, honestly, this isn’t h-h-helping … I d-d-don’t know if I can handle this right now. I don’t know if I can be who you need me to be,” You took a step back and you were comforted by the fact that he couldn’t take a step towards you. He wouldn’t make a scene, not in front of your roommates. Maybe you could forgive their intrusiveness.

Rafe seemed to tense at your words and you watched as his eyes wandered down the sidewalk towards your friends, “Okay, uhm …they say something to you?” His voice carried a note of suspicion, as if their presence was somehow a direct affront to him.

“They’re my friends,” you replied tersely, hoping that would be the end of it. Of course your friends had expressed their concerns about him.

“Okay,” Rafe said, his voice edged with frustration. “I just … I’m here because I want to fix things.”

“C-Can we talk about it on Monday, please?” You asked, “I’ve been-”

“You’ve been drinking,” He filled in your words, more unamused than before, “It’s not safe, little girl like you, only your friends to protect you … there’s lots of bad, bad people in this city.”

The way he said "little girl" stung. It wasn’t the first time he’d used it, but it felt more patronizing and condescending tonight.

“I can take care of myself,” you said firmly, taking another step back towards your building, trying to put more space between you and his imposing figure.

“Can you?” he taunted, the words heavy with mockery. “Alright, I’ll give you some space. You know what? Go ahead and take Monday off, you deserve it, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight,” You said before you turned away from him. You jumped when you heard his truck door slam close but you didn’t look back.

Your friends, witnessing the tense exchange from the corner of the awning, approached you with concern written on their faces. Angel reached out, placing a gentle hand on your arm. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice soft but filled with worry.

“Fuck, that dude is crazy,” Imani said, “You have to quit. I’ll get another part time job. We both will while you look for something else. We’ll make it work.”

You should have cried in their arms, letting their comfort and love wash over you, but instead, all you felt was exhaustion and apathy. You didn’t have the energy to be comforted or to express your gratitude. Numb and drained, you trudged inside, your mind already longing for the softness of your pillow. Your friends followed quietly.

Tuesday morning, your alarm didn’t wake you up. There was a pounding on your door before Imani stormed into your room. Heart racing, you lifted your head and checked your phone sitting on your side table. It was thirty minutes before your alarm was even supposed to go off, “What the-”

“Look!” Groggily, you sat up in your bed just as a crumpled white envelope was thrown at your chest. You held it up to the light trickling into your room from the window, and you easily saw red bold letters stamped across the top of the letter: EVICTION NOTICE.

Without another thought, you ripped open the envelopement, “It’s probably a-a prank, Imani.”

“What is going on?” Angel stumbled into the room next, mouth full of foaming toothpaste.

You held open the letter as you began to read carefully, “As per the terms of your lease agreement and in a-a-accordance with the state and local regulations, this letter serves as your official notice of eviction–”

“Fuck,” Imani cursed.

“This decision has been mmmm-made in alignment with our current business strategy which includes renovating the apartment to increase its value and preparing the property for sale to a prospective buyer …”

“Someones buying our entire apartment building?” Angel asked, eyes wide with disbelief.

“This is fucked,” Imani added.

You continued reading, “The termination for your lease w-w-w-will be affected sixty days from the date of this notice. Please ensure thhh-that you vacate the premises by this date …”

You read the letter over and over, trying to make sense of it. The signature at the bottom confirmed its legitimacy.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Imani sat down on the edge of your bed, head in the palm of her hands, “They can’t do this. It’s illegal! Where are we supposed to go?”

“Sixty days from now is right before the holidays start,” Angel leaned in the doorway, her eyes starting to well with tears, “I can’t go back home.”

Imani shook her head, “This apartment is my home.”

Determined, you climbed out of bed, pulling on the work clothes you had pre-selected. You kicked off your fuzzy socks, removed your bonnet, and began fixing your braids into a messy bun. “I’m going into the office,” you said resolutely. “I w-w-w-work for a real estate company. Rafe will know what to do. They can’t just do this. If anyone knows how to get out of this, he will.”

The two girls exchanged glances, their concern palpable. “We don’t need his help,” Imani said firmly.

“I don’t think I want it,” Angel added quietly.

You stared at them, incredulous. “He c-can help. You don’t know him like I do.”

“Y/N, is this really smart?” Angel asked, her voice tinged with worry.

“I can’t believe you guys. Get out, I’m getting ready,” you snapped, frustration rising. “Get out, now!”

As they left the room, their worried faces lingered in your mind, but you were focused on finding a solution.

Despite drunkenly conveying your uncertainties about your position with Rafe a few nights before, that morning, you were the epitome of perfection. You wore exactly what he had chosen for you: a light blue dress embellished with sparkling sequins, pockets, and a Peter Pan collar. You even spent more than ten minutes putting on your makeup that morning, you looked flawless, more effort than you’d ever put in before.

You recited his entire schedule with only a slight stutter, had a steaming cup of coffee waiting for him at his desk, and arranged for lunch from one of his favorite restaurants. You allowed him to wrap his hand around your waist, to lean down and bury his face in your neck, to inhale your scent and press a gentle kiss against your skin.

It was like nothing had changed. Seeing Rafe outside of your apartment that night was frightening, a reminder of the presence he now had in your life, but you’d never seen him look so … desperate. Rafe Cameron was desperate for you, of all people. It dawned on you that perhaps there was room for negotiation. At the cabin, you had vehemently resisted his behavior, and his reaction had been explosively violent. But now, with him admitting to a mistake and showing a rare glimpse of vulnerability, you realized you might possess more leverage than you had previously imagined.

You spent the first few hours at work hyping yourself up to bring up the eviction notice to Rafe. All of his morning meetings went well and he didn’t have the usual cloud of darkness that was constantly over his head. When there was finally a lull in the day, you finally told him the news you’d learned that morning. However, his reaction made your face fall into a frown that you didn’t have the strength to correct.

“I’m not sure what the problem is. Don’t I pay you enough to be able to afford your own apartment?”

“My friends …” you began, struggling to find the right words. Mentioning your friends was wrong. You knew how he felt about the voices of reason in your life.

“Right, your friends. What would you have me do?” His words continued to be indifferent and detached, as if he could want you so bad, but care nothing about the lives that were closest to you, “Offer them jobs? Pay for them to live as well?”

“No, that’s nnn-not what I mean,” It felt like he was purposefully miscontruing your words, and in turn, your character. Of course you didn’t expect for him to take care of your friends. Not letting him take advantage of the sea of emotions you were feeling, you recited your problem clearly, “I just want to know if you have any advice. For handling the situation. Something that’s in our control as tenants.”

“You don’t have much power at all, as tenants. You’re subject to the decisions made by the property management and the owners,” Before the reality of his words fully sunk in, he sighed, continuing, “You could look at your lease agreement and read it thoroughly to find any clauses that protect you. You could consult with a lawyer though that would be a pricy right to go down. You could talk to your landlord and try to get an extension to find a new place. That’s where I would start, sweetheart.”

Rafe’s hands folded together, looking up at you, as a smile graced his face. You nodded, “Okay,” You were grateful for a straight answer, but admittedly, you thought he would offer a better solution, “What should we look for in the lease? What would protect us?”

“Anything about early termination, language about renovations or changes in property management. Stipulations about how much notice is required before evicting you. If the landlord has violated any of those terms, it could be grounds for negotiation.”

“Huh,” you nodded, your heart filling with a small bit of hope, despite how out of reach some of his suggestions felt, “O-Okay, thank you. Yeah, I’ll t-t-talk to my roommates about it.”

“If it were me, I would be make sure I focused on my own safety and well being. You can’t really help your friends if you’re out on the street with them.”

His words, rude and smart like always, stung but you didn’t dwell on them, “Thanks for the advice, sir.”

For the rest of the morning, you shuffled between tasks and scrolling through your lease agreement. You searched it for the keywords that Rafe at mentioned and when that search wasn’t fruitful, you started to read it top to bottom. Your landlord was only required to give you sixty days notice for an eviction. You found absolutely nothing about property management changes. Hours passed and as lunchtime approach, you were sufficiently frustrated.

You brought Rafe his lunch as he sat through a lunch time meeting but you made your way to the breakroom quickly afterwards.

Imani had called you a few time so you returned it. You’d texted your groupchat about all the steps that Rafe had mentioned. Imani had replied that he was probably withholding information. You weren’t quite sure why that idea hadn’t crossed your mind.

“Hey, I still haven’t found anything–”

“Cameron Development is the one purchasing the apartment building, Y/N.”

Your heart sank and you plopped down on the breakroom’s leather couch with a heavy sigh, “Shit,” You whispered.

“Shit is an understatement,” She replied, “Y/N, I’m starting to think you need to be really careful. Maybe we should go to the police.”

He’d lied to your face, unabashedly.

"We'll talk about it later, I promise," You spoke before you hung up, not giving her a chance to argue.

It was much too late for careful. You should’ve ran after your first conversation with him but now … you were effectively trapped. Rafe had sex with you even when you didn’t want to. He hurt you and you held him for comfort after you. It had been weeks since you’d even felt like yourself.

You leaned back to stare at the ceiling and you didn’t move for the next thirty minutes. Eleanor was the one who came to find you after you’d gone missing, “Y/N, Rafe’s been looking for you. What are you doing?”

“Did you know?” You asked her solemnly, your voice felt broken.

She came to sit beside you and you felt her place a hand on your shoulder as she leaned closer, “Topper told me they rushed the deal. Offered twice the asking price. Said it was horrible idea, completely financially irresponsible, but Rafe insisted. ”

“Wh-What should I do?” You turned your head towards her, tears in your eyes, “I-I’ve never had sss-someone feel this way about me b-but th-this feels wrong.”

“What should you do?” She repeated, “I think he loves you.”

“L-Love?” You seemed to choke on the words.

From what you could tell, it didn’t seem that Rafe was capable of loving anyone, “What does your gut tell you?”

This entire time, your gut had been telling you one thing, “T-To run?”

Even now, you were so unsure of yourself, “Makes sense, he’s suffocating you.”

You sat up in your spot, “Should I go now? Leave all my stuff? He p-paid for it, anyways.”

“I don’t think this is the time,” She squeezed your shoulder gently, her eyes soft as they fixed on you, “If you run, he’ll drag you back to his mansion kicking and screaming. Rafe just made this grand gesture to display his power. A huge fuck you to all the people you care about. He’s desperate. This is your time to get what you want from him. Tell him, you’re not going to be his little sex secretary anymore or follow him to the mountains, unless he changes.”

“Y-You think he can change?”

“I didn’t think so before,” Eleanor said, her voice firm. “But now, seeing how desperate he is, I believe he’ll do anything to keep you.”

You could barely admit to yourself that part of you wished what she was saying was true. The notion that Rafe might have feelings for you, even if expressed through flawed and controlling actions, was both intoxicating and unsettling. Maybe you could take the bad with the good if the good started to outweigh the bad. But Rafe’s bad was more than bad. His soft gestures were often accompanied by demands and manipulations.

There was no pros and cons list to be made. You looked at your situation objectively, Eleanor’s words having finally forced you to. If you ran, he’d come after you. If you ran, you’d have nothing. No apartment or salary to support yourself. You longed for a relationship where you felt safe and cared for and you wanted to live in a world where your friends were also taken care of.

“I hope you’re not handling your personal business during workhours,” Rafe had said when you finally returned to the office.

Ironic, given all the personal things you two had done together in that very office.

“I’m not the one who made it personal,” You spoke easily, smoothly.

You made your way to your desk. Your words seemed to bothered him but you didn’t glance at him long enough to take in his reaction.

“And how did I make it personal?” You flipped through your personal calendar, taking a pen and marking down all of Rafe’s scheduled social events.

“It’s not g-g-going to work. Using my friends to threaten me.”

“Oh?” That single word was dripping with venom.

“Just makes me think even www-worse of you. And I-I already had a poor opinion.”

“Yeah?” You wanted to look at him but you kept your eyes focused down, “What makes you think I give a fuck about your opinion of me?"

“B-Because I drive you crazy. Because I’m the one person y-you want to control completely.”

“Maybe I wanted to make things easier for you. Maybe I know that you’ll outgrow your little friends soon and you need a push in the right direction. You have friends in higher places now, you know that?”

“Y-You don’t like that they tell me to quit. That they know sss-somethings wrong with you.”

“You’re wrong,” He shot back.

“You’ve done a good job b-because now I can’t leave without losing everything,” It took everything to keep your voice from breaking. Finally, you turned your heads toward him. You saw the way his chair was towards you, the way his grip was tight on the armrests of his chair.

“Maybe I’ve been selfish.”

You scoffed at that, “You’ve mmm-made it clear that you don’t care about my needs or mmm-my feelings.”

“I know your feelings, sweetheart. You wear them so clearly,” Rafe replied, you could see it in his face that he was trying to keep his tone subdued He leaned foreward slightly, eyes as intense as ever, “Tell me what needs I haven’t tended to. Let me fix things, yeah?”

His offered seemed genuine and exactly what you were hoping for, weren’t you?

“You really want to fix things?”

“Yeah,” He said like the crimes he’d committed against you were something that could remedied, “I can’t change what I don’t know.”

“It’s not just about what you’ve done wrong. It’s a-about how you handle things from now on,” You started, choosing your words carefully, “It’s about allowing mmm-mmme to set boundaries and respecting them.”

“Boundaries?” His head twisted to the side like he wasn’t entirely familiar with the term, “There’s multiple?”

“First, I want you t-to do what you can to remedy this apartment situation. Then, I don’t want you to ever bring my friends into this again.”

“Fine, I’ll get them another apartment. I’ll even throw in free rent.”

“No,” You shook your head, “You own the building which means you let us stay. No renovations.”

“I made an investment. I have to make a profit–”

“I’m serious,” You countered, “Y-Y-You made your point. You have all the mmm-money in the world and we have nothing in comparison.”

Rafe sighed, fingers tapping against his leg, “Okay, they stay but you come to live with me.”

“What? Why?” It was another layer of control, not a solution.

“Your friends will want nothing to do with me or my help. If you continue to work for me, they won’t want anything to do with you either. If you want to maintain those relationships, some space would be better. Let them see you happy and they’ll come to their senses about our relationship.”

The implication of his words was clear. He was offering you a way to keep your friends, but it came with the price of further entangling your life with his. It felt like a manipulative trade-off. You thought about the way he had manipulated you before, using your friends as leverage, and it made you wary of his intentions.

“I won’t say yes right now,” You decided, “Sss-sss-since we’re talking about living situations. Next year, I want to stay in Charlotte.”

“That won’t work.”

What had Eleanor told you to do? Had she forgotten how stubborn he was?

“Y-You’re asking me to move across the state with you. I-It’s t-t-t-to much. There will have to be another arrangement.”

“Hmm, I won’t say yes right now,” he repeated your wording with an edge of mockery. You scowled, feeling the frustration build up inside you.

“You just sss-said you wanted to fix things.”

“My intentions … my intentions are to leave the city and spend the next few years settling down. I’m getting to a certain age and I’ve been thinking about, you know, getting married and having kids. It feels like the right time,” The information is a shock to you, not the thought of Rafe wanting a wife and kids, but knowing immediately he was implying that you’d be filling that role, “It’s a beautiful area. I wouldn’t expect you to continue your role there. You’d fully be a stay-at home wife, you could pursue any hobbies you wanted, and of course you’d have access to even more money than I’ve been paying you.”

Rafe began to paint a picture of a gilded cage. On the surface, it was tempting: a life of comfort, stability, and freedom from financial worries. But the price was your independence and autonomy. The thought of becoming a stay-at-home wife, completely reliant on him and cut off from your own life in Charlotte, was suffocating.

“What if I d-d-don’t want that life? W-What if I want my own career?”

He hesitated, his gaze narrowing as he leaned back in his chair, “What career do you want? I’ll give it to you. You can do practically anything from home these days. If you want to spend the first years doing that, fine, I’m not expecting kids right away.”

You hadn’t realized it but your breath was starting to quicken. You placed a hand over your chest, all of that resolve you had going into the conversation starting to fade away, “This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” Rafe seemed to talk to himself, “Hey, hey, calm down.”

Your breath came out in quick shallow breaths. Rafe’s proposal pressed down on you as the room started to spin. You felt his arms around you before you could fall from your chair, “Eleanor, I need you here,” You heard clearly. For the next moments, you could only hear their muffled talking. You remembered seeing both of them, panicked look on Eleanor’s face, a hand rubbing down your back. Rafe was talking to you, his eyes trained on you intently. You remembered a glass of water coming to your lips and you tilted your head back, welcoming the liquid, thinking it might quell the fire inside your mind.

Though your thoughts still raced, the room’s spinning slowed down, and the you heard Rafe dsay, “It’ll help you feel better.”

He stayed with you, rubbing soothing circles into the skin of your thighs, “Thank you,” You whispered though you hated that you found comfort in his touch. A wave of drowsiness overcame you and despite your best efforts to stay alert, you felt yourself lean forward until you were fully in Rafe’s arms, “Rafe–”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Rest,” Rafe murmured, his voice soft and reassuring as he held you close.

This got too long, gonna have to make another part! Pls pls pls reblog and let me know your thoughts and predictions!

#rafe cameron #dark fic #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x black!reader #black!reader #well kept #rafe outer banks #outer banks smut

847 notes · View notes

inupibaldspot · 11 months ago

Text

Call me by my name

Pairing: Okkotsu Yuta x Reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : college au! Where nerd! Yuta goes out on his first party and manages to snag you, a popular girl who just needed someone to have ‘fun’ with.

The room is hot; surrounded by your friends continues to talk and laugh about how Yuuji, who was the star player on the football team slipped in the college cafeteria. But you weren’t interested in such talks— not right now, when you had an aching pain in between your legs.

Normally in such situations all you had to do was flutter your eye lashes at Choso, your ‘study partner’ who loooved doing all your assignments and at the same time, who had been trained to memorize every inch of your body inside and out but alas! He had to go on a study trip.

Your eyes wander amongst the crowd of people as you take a sip from your plastic cup, paying no heed to the burning sensation passing through your throat from the heavy drink— bingo! You spot your target.

A boy with dark haunting eyes who seemed to tilt from side to side, laughing nervously as he has both of his hands on a cup talking with two familiar figures— Maki, an all rounder athlete and cousins to one of your friends, Fushiguro Megumi and Inumaki Toge, a guy you shared a class with.

As soon as you see the two people leave the poor boy whose eyes was dropped to the floor instantly, probably nervous to make eye contact, you make your move.

“Hey there.”

Yuta raises his head to see you in-front of him, his breath hitched almost instantly as he takes on your appearance. You had a beautiful face with eyelashes which flutter in a flirting manner; but one thing he was trying to avoid looking at was the curve of your ass as the way you leaned down makes the swell of your breast very much visible.

He gulps. “Hey…”

“I’m y/n.” Yuta catches a whiff of your perfume laced with alcohol which makes him intoxicated, his pants suddenly becoming so tight.

He clears his throat. “I’m Okkotsu Yuta… Nice to meet you.”

“Say Okkotsu…” you lean in as you place a hand on his chest, leaning into his ears. “It’s kind of hot in here so how about we go somewhere else.”

As soon as he gives you a green light, you smile. Guys like him who was probably a virgin, who only saw naked woman through a screen were just so easy. You hold onto one of his wrist as you drag him to a washroom in the secluded part of the house.

You didn’t mind teaching Okkotsu the ways to touch and pleasure you; it was more fun that way in your opinion.

So tell me when the situation had turned and now it was you who was a moaning mess while Yuta had you in the palm of his hands.

“Nghhh— Ah…ugnn…” You let out another moan as your legs start to shake. Yuta grips on to one of your legs and brings the other one over his shoulders; you whine as your ability to grind on his face has been completely taken away from you.

“Your whimpers are so so— adorable.” Yuta’s voice almost comes of as a whine as he places small kisses all over your heat before his head completely dives in, his face was filthy from all your juice over his face.

You manage to look down, over the swell of your breast where your nipples remain hard, wet and swollen from the previous sucking and tugs which had almost made you pass out; As you see him slurp, making such nasty, filthy sounds with each action. As if sensing your gaze, he looks up at you almost innocently.

“I want to fill you up with my cum. I want to come inside this pussy— please? Please say ‘yes’.” He whines, looking so needy.

Just where did he learn to do all of ‘these’?

He beams when you reach out your hand as you cup his face. “Ngh…O-of course you can, Okkotsu.” He buries his face in completely once more.

His tongue was deep in you “You can call me by my first name.” Your heavy breathing makes his blood go straight to his his cock making it drip with need.

From a moaning mess,you completely stiffen as you open your mouth. Then proceeded to close it.

“Oh…” His eyes darken as an felt the grip on your thighs tighten. “You forgot my name…”

“Part your legs a little more, sweetheart.” You whimper at his words.“By the time I’m done you’ll have my name running through your mind with every ache.”

1K notes · View notes

dystopic-view · 3 months ago

Text

My roommates concert (+18)

Geto x fem/afab reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: After two months of being roommates, and kissing on the first day you met, you and Geto have grown close, enjoying each other's company without crossing any lines. But one night, when you go to watch him perform at a small gig, everything changes. A quiet moment backstage leads to something unexpected, leaving you both questioning where things will go from there.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: fluff, bassist geto, jealousy, slow burn, nsfw, longing, sexual tension, teasing, foreplay, body worship, oral sex (female receiving) unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie

𝐖.𝐂: 6.7K 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓: the contents of this story are a part 2 to this one. make sure you read it first. ♡

You had been Sugurus roomate for two months now, and while neither of you had labeled anything, there was definitely something there.

The air between you had shifted.

There was a comfort in being around him, but the tension from that first kiss still lingered.

Not only that, but nothing else had happened between you two since.

You were sitting on the couch, legs tucked under you, scrolling through your phone as Geto tuned his bass across the room.

He had been talking about an upcoming small gig for a couple of days, and that night had finally come.

“It’s nothing special,” he said, looking over at you as he plucked at the strings. “Just a few guys from my old band, jamming at this little place we used to play at back in the day.”

You smiled, watching him, noting the excitement in his eyes that he was trying to play off as casual. “You seem pretty excited for it to be nothing special.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he adjusted the strap on his bass. “I mean, it’s been a while. I’m just looking forward to it, I guess. And, you know…” He hesitated, glancing over at you. “It’s cool that you’re coming to watch.”

You felt a small warmth spreading through your chest at his words. “I wouldn’t miss it. Gotta see if you’re as good as you say,” you teased, earning a smirk from him.

As you headed out together, the energy between you felt comfortable but charged, the same way it had been for weeks.

There clearly was something going on between the two of you that surpassed the lines of being just roommates, but neither of you had made a move to define it.

Two months of living together, and you had both settled into an easy routine.

Sharing meals, hanging out, talking late into the night, but always with that tension in the air surrounding you, just beneath the surface.

You were sitting at a small, dimly lit table in the back of a bar, chatter and clinking glasses filling the space around you.

The place had a grungy, intimate vibe, with faded posters on the walls and a few scattered tables occupied by groups of friends, mostly locals.

You sipped your drink, trying to shake off the slight nervousness bubbling in your chest.

You had never seen Geto perform before, and even though he had mentioned it casually, you could tell playing meant a lot to him.

The lights were dimmed, and the stage at the front of the room was lit by a single spotlight.

It was almost time for the band to start, and as the minutes ticked by, your anticipation built. Your eyes scanned the room.

There were all kinds of people there, some your age, others older but clearly all were there for the music.

A group of girls near the stage caught your attention.

They were laughing, leaning against the bar, looking a little too eager for the band to come out.

You pushed the thought aside, trying to not let it bother you.

You knew you and Geto weren’t technically together, but still, there was something about seeing other girls there, probably hoping for his attention, that made your chest tighten.

Then, the lights shifted slightly, and Geto stepped onto the stage with his bass slung over his shoulder, his usual calm expression adorning his face.

You sat up straighter, your pulse quickening at the sight of him in a different light.

Literally.

The quiet guy you had been getting to know for months now suddenly looked different, more confident, like he belonged up there.

He was dressed in a simple black t-shirt, that accentuated the lean muscles in his arms and the tattoos that peeked out from under his sleeves, revealing the intricate patterns snaking down his forearms.

Bold, dark lines stood out under the low lights, drawing attention to the ink that usually stayed hidden behind long sleeves.

That night, though, they were on full display, and that added to that air of mystery already surrounding him.

His hair, which he normally wore loosely tied back, was pulled into a slightly messy bun at the nape of his neck, with a few strands falling free to frame his face.

There was something about the way the dim stage lights reflected in his dark hair and highlighted the sharp angles of his face that made him even more captivating.

As he stood there, bass in hand, his presence was magnetic.

You were used to seeing him laid-back and quiet at home, but up there with his tattoos visible and his sharp features highlighted, he looked more intense, more sure of himself.

You could almost hear the gasps of that group of girls in front of the stage from where you were sitting in the back of the room, as Geto walked out on stage.

The crowd quieted down, the buzz of conversation fading as the rest of the band came out and began to set up.

You watched Geto as he adjusted his bass and the way his fingers moved effortlessly over the strings.

You couldn’t help but watch the way he looked making it impossible for you to stray your eyes away.

When they started playing, the sound was raw and heavy, the bassline deep and steady, and you could feel it vibrating in your chest.

Geto looked focused, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips, a quiet satisfaction as the music went on.

The crowd was into it, heads bobbing to the rhythm, and you noticed those girls near the front moving a little closer to the stage, their eyes locked on him.

A drop of jealousy hit you, sharper than you expected, and you took a sip of your drink to distract yourself.

You knew it was silly to feel that way.

He was performing, not even paying attention to them.

But you found it really hard to ignore the way they seemed to be trying to catch his attention, especially when you had been growing closer to him those past few weeks.

Your eyes were glued on Geto, though.

He was captivating, you were entranced by the way he moved with the music, his focus entirely on the performance.

And yet, every once in a while, you caught him glancing in your direction, almost like he was checking to see if you were watching.

Each time, your heart skipped a beat, the tension between you feeling like it was tightening even more.

The set continued, the music filling the space, but you were caught in your own thoughts.

The sight of him up there, so in control, so confident, stirred something in you.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same thing, the same thing that had been brewing between you for weeks.

As the final notes of the set faded, Geto looked out over the crowd, his gaze landing on you.

For a brief second, the noise of the bar faded away, and it felt like it was just the two of you in the room.

His eyes lingered on yours, and you could clearly feel a silent acknowledgment of the tension between you, the unspoken attraction that had been building for so long.

And then he looked away, turning back to his bandmates.

You were still sitting at the table, trying to ignore the excited energy from the group of girls near the stage.

You finished your drink, trying to ignore the way they began clapping and shouting for another song.

One of the girls from the group started to make her way over to him, her confidence unmistakable as she leaned casually against the side of the stage.

She was smiling, her eyes locked on Geto, and you could already feel that slight hint of jealousy coming back.

You watched, trying to keep your expression neutral, but you couldn’t stop the way your heartbeat raced as she said something to him, leaning in closer than necessary.

She was being bold.

Her hand lightly brushed his arm, and she tossed her hair back, clearly trying to catch his attention.

You sat up straighter, the heat rising in your chest, even as you tried to tell yourself to relax.

It was nothing, right?

Besides, you had seen that before.

Girls always seemed drawn to Geto.

They always seemed drawn to his quiet, mysterious vibe.

You noticed it every time you went grocery shopping with him.

But being used to it didn’t make it easier to watch.

To your relief, Geto didn’t seem fazed.

His body language was distant, his eyes shifting away from hers as if he was barely listening to what she was saying.

He nodded politely, offering a kind smile, but there was no visible interest in him.

Still, the girl didn't notice that.

Instead, she leaned in closer, her voice too distant to hear, but her laughter loud enough to be heard through the noise of the crowd.

Your grip tightened around your empty glass as you watched the exchange, trying not to let the jealousy consume you.

It was irrational.

You knew that.

Geto wasn’t interested, that was obvious.

But it was really hard to ignore the fact she was so clearly making a move on him, right in front of you.

Just as you were about to look away, the girl's gaze suddenly shifted in your direction, her eyes narrowing slightly when she noticed you already staring back at her.

It was like she was sizing you up, acknowledging your presence for the first time.

The corner of her mouth lifted into a smirk, and she turned back to Geto, saying something that you couldn't exactly hear, but could clearly see through her body language.

She was trying to claim him, as if to say,“watch this, he’s mine.’’

You could feel the irritation building up inside of you, but before you could react, Geto followed her gaze and locked eyes with you.

For a split second, the noise of the bar seemed to fade again, just like it had during his performance.

His expression softened the moment he saw you, and there was a flash of something in his eyes.

Reassurance, maybe?

A subtle sign that he didn’t care for her.

Without missing a beat, Geto pulled away from the girl, his eyes never leaving yours as he stepped down from the stage.

He made his way toward you, the girl watching in silence, a stunned expression on her face, her confidence wavering as she realized she had lost his attention.

The smirk vanished from her lips, but you could feel her eyes burning into you as Geto approached.

He stopped in front of you, that familiar calmness coating his features as he gave you a small, almost teasing smile.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and casual, as if the entire room wasn’t buzzing with energy.

“Hey,” you replied, trying to keep your tone steady despite the way your heart was racing.

He didn’t even acknowledge the girl, and you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of victory. The tension between you thickened, but now it felt more like a mutually shared thing, something that neither of you needed to point out.

He didn’t have to say anything.

His actions spoke for themselves.

As you sat there, the moment between you and Geto was interrupted by that girl.

She had followed him to the table, her energy still high.

She leaned on the edge of your table, her smile dripping with false charm.

She was pretending you weren’t even there, directing her full attention back to Geto, her voice suddenly louder, faker.

“Suguru,” she purred, using his first name as if they had known each other for years. “You were amazing up there. I didn’t know you were that good.”

You rolled your eyes internally, trying not to let the irritation show on your face.

Geto, still standing close to you, just gave her a polite nod. “Thanks,” he said, his tone flat. He averted his gaze slightly, making it obvious that he wasn’t planning on keeping the conversation going, but she didn’t seem to take the hint.

Instead, she leaned in closer to him, her fingers brushing the sleeve of his shirt. “We should definitely hang out sometime,” she said, her voice lowering just a bit, like she was trying to seduce him.

Your grip tightened on your glass, and you glanced up at Geto, but he was still calm, barely reacting to her attempts.

His eyes flickered toward you briefly, as if to check in, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

Almost like he was amused by her persistence.

Before he could say anything, though, the girl turned her attention toward you, finally acknowledging your presence.

She looked you up and down, her expression dripping with fake sweetness. “Oh,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension. “Are you a fan of the band too, or are you just here for… moral support?”

You could feel the passive-aggressive energy behind her words, and it took everything in you to keep your expression neutral. “Sure,” you responded coldly, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

She chuckled, clearly unimpressed. “Cute,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “But you know, real fans get to know the band… personally.”

Her eyes flashed to Geto again, as if she was waiting for him to back her up.

But he was silent, looking almost bored by her remarks.

Instead of reacting, he finally stepped closer to you, subtly putting some distance between himself and the girl.

He placed his arm around your shoulders, the gesture casual but possessive enough that it was impossible to miss.

And unexpected enough that it made you jump slightly in your chair at the sudden touch.

“I’m good, thanks,” he said to the girl, his voice calm but final. “I’ve got plans tonight.”

The girl blinked, clearly not expecting his bluntness. “Plans?” she repeated, her voice faltering as she glanced between the two of you, the realization finally hitting her.

The smirk on her face disappeared, replaced by a spark of annoyance.

“Yeah,” Geto replied, his eyes locked on yours now, a small smile playing on his lips. “With her.”

“Oh,” she said, feigning surprise, but you could tell she wasn’t giving up just yet. “Well, maybe we can all hang out sometime?”

You felt a mix of annoyance and amusement at her persistence, and quickly acted upon those feelings, shaking your head. “I think we’ll pass,” you replied firmly, the irritation creeping into your voice.

She pouted slightly, clearly not expecting the rejection, but instead of giving up, she leaned in a little more, undefeated. “Are you sure?,” she insisted, turning to him, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “I’m pretty fun.”

You could sense the tension in the air as she tried to navigate her way back into the conversation, but Geto’s focus remained on you, and you could see the slight shift in his expression.

He was done entertaining her.

“She said, we’ll pass,” he said, a subtle annoyance in his tone that made it clear he wasn’t interested in indulging her further.

She scoffed a little, finally realizing her attempts weren’t proving successful, and straightened up. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you two alone,” she said, forcing a smile. “But you should definitely think about it.”

With one last flirtatious glance, she turned and walked away, the sound of her heels clacking on the floor fading into the background noise of the bar as she went back to her group of friends.

She left, and the air suddenly felt lighter, but still charged.

“Sorry about that,” he said, his voice low, a hint of amusement in it. “Some people just don’t get the hint.”

You chuckled lightly, shaking your head. “No worries. I get it. It’s not your fault.” But deep down, you couldn’t help the flutter of excitement that rushed through you.

He chose you over her, and that realization sent a rush of warmth through your chest.

“Hey, do you want to come backstage and meet the guys from the band?” he asked, his tone casual but you could see a hint of excitement in his eyes.

“Really? I’d love to!” you replied, surprised yet thrilled at the invitation.

The thought of getting to know his world a little bit better was exhilarating, and you felt honored he was showing it to you.

You followed him to the back of the bar, and he led you to a hallway that ended with a door to a dressing room.

You entered behind him, and looked around.

The walls were also adorned with posters and the faint sound of old rock music played from a distant speaker.

An old looking couch sat against one wall, surrounded by a few scattered bottles of beer and a half empty bottle of whiskey sitting at a low table, giving the room a laid-back, messy yet comfortable vibe.

The lighting was dim and the air was thick with the scent of wood and a hint of cigarette smoke.

Inside, the band members were busy packing up their equipment, but they stopped to greet you with warm smiles. “Hey, you made it!” one of them said, his friendly demeanor instantly putting you at ease.

Geto stood beside you, his body language exuding satisfaction, as if he was proud to have you there.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t miss it,” you replied, feeling your cheeks heat up red at the way all of their eyes were on you.

They exchanged glances, but you caught the way Geto watched you, his gaze softening.

The guys started asking you questions about your music taste, and soon enough, the room was filled with laughter and easy conversation.

They told you about their old gigs, shared funny stories from their concerts, and you found yourself genuinely enjoying their company.

Each time you glanced at Geto, you saw him smiling, clearly happy that you were fitting in so well.

“Honestly, we need more people like you in our crowd,” one of the bandmates joked, nudging Geto playfully. “He never brings anyone to hang out!”

You laughed, a warm feeling spreading in your chest. “I’m lucky to be here tonight then.”

As the conversation continued, you felt a genuine connection with the band, and it was easy to understand why Geto liked them so much.

They were relaxed, funny, and very supportive of each other.

But eventually, the time came for them to start packing up their things, and the energy in the room shifted slightly.

“We’ve got to get our gear to the band van before the bar kicks us out,” one of the guys says, glancing at the clock.

They all started getting up from their seats, and as the excitement of the moment began to fade, you felt a slight pang of disappointment.

“Thanks for having me, guys. It was really nice meeting you!” you said, trying to hold onto the warmth of the evening.

“Anytime! You should come to our next gig,” another bandmate suggested, giving you a grin as they gathered their things.

Geto looked at you, and there was a moment of shared understanding.

The relationship between him and his bandmates was great, but the connection you had been building felt even more special after that.

As the last of the equipment was loaded up into their van, the band members said their goodbyes, leaving you and Geto alone in the cozy dressing room.

The atmosphere felt different, quieter, and the soft glow of the low lights created an intimate setting that enhanced the tension between you.

You and Geto exchanged glances, and there was a shift in the air around you, a palpable awareness of each other that wasn’t there before.

He stepped a little closer, the distant sound of laughter and chatter outside barely reaching you.

“You did great tonight,” you said, your voice soft but filled with sincerity.

“Thanks. I’m glad you came,” he replied, and there was a warmth in his tone that made your heart race.

In that small, intimate space, the unspoken feelings between you two started to bubble to the surface, and you couldn’t shake away the thought that something significant was about to happen.

The room felt comfortable, the lingering sound of the bar's music fading into the background of the moment you were sharing, where it was just the two of you.

No distractions.

No expectations.

Just the quiet tension that had been building for weeks.

You both settled onto the small couch, the air thick with unspoken words.

You inhaled deeply, and took a moment to collect your thoughts, feeling the warmth of his presence beside you.

“I really can’t believe how good you were up there,” you started, trying to keep your tone light, but there was an intensity in your gaze. “You looked incredible, and the way you played... It was amazing. I really enjoyed it.”

Geto shifted slightly, a hint of a smile creeping onto his lips at your praise. “Thanks,” he replied, his voice low and sincere. “It means a lot to hear that from you.”

You took a breath, deciding to be upfront about what you had experienced earlier. “But I have to be honest... I felt a bit jealous when those girls were looking at you like that,” you confessed, your cheeks warming. “I know we’re not together or anything, but I couldn’t help it.”

Geto’s expression shifted, surprise flashing across his face.

“You don’t have to apologize for how you feel,” he said, his tone steady yet gentle. “I get it. It’s not easy watching people try to grab my attention when I’m just trying to focus on the music.”

You glanced down, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “I know it sounds stupid. I shouldn’t feel that way...”

“No, it’s not stupid,” he interrupted softly, his voice firm. “I understand how you feel.” He leaned in slightly, the distance between you shrinking, and your heart raced at the change in his demeanor.

“Really?” you asked, looking up at him, searching for sincerity in his gaze.

“Yeah,” he replied, his eyes locking onto yours. “Even if we’re not technically together, it doesn’t change the fact that I like being around you. You mean a lot to me.” His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

You swallowed, the reality of the situation washing over you. “I... I feel the same way,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

The warmth in your chest spread, mingling with the excitement of being so close to him, and as he shifted closer, you could feel the heat radiating from him. “I didn’t bring you here just for the concert, you know,” he said, his tone dropping lower. “I wanted you to see that side of me, but I also wanted to spend time with you.”

Your breath hitched, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race. “Geto...” You tried to continue, but he interrupted again, his gaze sincere and focused.

“You don’t need to feel jealous or insecure. It’s just you and me here. And honestly? I’m glad it’s you.” The sincerity in his words wrapped around you like a warm embrace, and the tension lingered in the air, thick and electric.

You sat there, stuck in the intensity of his gaze, the world outside the dressing room fading

into a distant memory.

“I’m really glad I came tonight,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, the honesty behind your words making your heart pick up pace. “It feels different being here with you.”

Geto leaned in closer, the couch suddenly feeling too small for the two of you “It does, doesn’t it?” he replied, his voice low, intimate.

There was something vulnerable in his eyes that caused your breath to falter.

You found yourself moving closer to him, almost unconsciously, the tension wrapping around you like a rope. “I’ve been thinking about this moment,” you confessed, your heart pounding in your chest. “About what it would be like if we didn’t have to hide how we feel.”

He narrowed the gap even more. “Same here,” he admitted, his voice steady, yet filled with an undeniable intensity “It’s hard not to think about it when you’re around.”

As the words hung in the air, the space between you grew heavier with desire.

You could see the emotion in his eyes.

Something raw and genuine.

And it sent a thrill through you.

“I don’t think I can handle just staring at you any longer…” you said softly, your heart racing as you searched his gaze for any hesitation.

But instead, you found only warmth and a deep longing, matching yours.

Without thinking, you leaned in closer, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

He didn’t pull back, though.

Instead, he closed the distance between you, his breath mingling with yours.

The moment stretched, and you could feel even more intensely the heat radiating from him, the way his presence enveloped you.

Then, without a word, he closed the gap, capturing your lips with his.

It was soft at first, a gentle kiss that sent shockwaves through your body, igniting every nerve ending.

But as you leaned into him, it deepened, the kiss becoming more urgent, more passionate.

His hand found its way to your waist, pulling you onto his lap, as if he was trying to erase any space that remained between you.

You responded instinctively, wrapping your arms around his neck, and your legs straddling his sides, melting into him as the kiss intensified.

Your heart raced, the rhythm of your pulse echoing in your ears, drowning out the rest of the world.

His fingers traced the contours of your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

He broke the kiss, his gaze locked on yours briefly, his breathing heavy.

He cupped your face, pulling you back in for another kiss, more intense than the last.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,’’ he whispered, his voice thick with need.

You could feel the heat of his body, the evidence of his desire pressing against your core.

Geto’s fingers trailed down your neck, over your collarbone, and settled on your breasts, his thumb teasing your nipple through the fabric of your shirt.

He pulled back again, his eyes filled with hunger, a silent plea for the both of you to continue down this path.

“Geto,’’ you murmured, your voice a soft, breathy whisper.

You leaned into his touch, encouraging him to explore further.“I... I want you too.’’

You reached down, grasping his hand, and guided it under your shirt, feeling his fingers brush against your skin.

The sensation made you shiver with anticipation, the intimacy of the gesture stirring something deep within you.

The room swirled around you, the line between reality and fantasy blurring as you surrendered to the moment.

Geto’s lips found your neck, his teeth gently nipping at your skin, sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body.

You responded swiftly, your hands finding their way to the hem of his shirt, lifting it up and over his head.

His breath hitched as you pulled his shirt off, and he watched as your eyes roamed over his body, taking in every line, every curve, every tattoo.

He felt a sense of pride, of accomplishment, knowing that you found him desirable.

Leaning in, he captured your lips once more, his hands tracing the curves of your body.

He knew you were as affected as he was, that the connection between you was as electric for you as it was for him.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck, his tongue tasting your skin.

He could feel your pulse quickening, your breath coming in short gasps, your body arching into his touch.

He smiled against your skin, a sense of satisfaction washing over him.

Geto’s hands explored your body, his fingers reaching the end of your shirt, tugging at the hem until it was bunched up around his hands.

He slid it over your head and his lips continued their journey, leaving a trail of kisses and nips along your collarbone, down to your breasts.

He took one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it, teasing it into a hard peak.

A moan escaped your lips, the sensation overwhelming.

He moved to the other side, repeating the process, his hands sliding up your thighs, until his fingers reached the limit of your shorts.

His lips crashed into yours once more, his tongue dancing with yours, your taste intoxicating.

He pulled back and laid you on your back, his eyes filled with hunger and desire as he hovered over you on the couch.

Geto’s hands found the waistband of your shorts, his fingers hooking onto the fabric and pulling it down, taking off your underwear with it, revealing your most intimate self to him.

He took a moment to appreciate the sight, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in every curve, every line.

Geto felt a sense of awe, knowing that you had chosen to share this part of yourself with him.

He leaned down, his lips finding your inner thigh, his tongue tracing a path upwards.

He felt your muscles tensing, your body anticipating his touch.

He smiled against your skin, his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place.

His tongue reached your wetness, his lips parting to taste you, to explore you.

Your breath hitched, your body arching into his touch.

Taking his time, he traced his tongue over every fold, every crease, his fingers joining in, stroking and teasing.

Your body began responding to his touch, your hips moving in rhythm with his tongue.

He looked up, his eyes locking onto yours, watching as you lost yourself in the moment.

The sight of you, so lost in pleasure, so vulnerable, was mesmerizing.

His tongue and fingers worked in perfect harmony, driving you closer and closer to the edge. He could feel your body trembling, the tension building within you.

As you neared your climax, he felt your muscles twitch, your body arching off the couch, your moans growing louder, more desperate.

He didn’t stop, his tongue and fingers working in perfect sync.

And then, it happened.

Your body convulsed slightly, your soft moans turning into breathy whimpers as you reached that peak of pleasure.

Wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you, leaving you breathless and spent.

He pulled back, his eyes filled with admiration and affection as he watched you recover from the intensity of your orgasm.

He wiped his mouth, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.

Geto’s heart raced, his own arousal growing with each passing moment.

He could feel his own need growing, aching for release.

Looking at you, his eyes filled with desire, he stood up, unbuckling his belt and sliding down his pants.

His erection sprung free, evidence to his need.

He watched as your eyes locked onto it, your breath hitching in your throat.

He got on top of you, his erection pressing against your core.

“Geto…’’ you moaned, your voice breathy and needy. “Please…’’

You could feel the evidence of his desire pressing against you, hard and insistent.

You reached down, your fingers wrapping around his length.

He groaned at your touch, his hips slightly bucking against your hand.

He pulled back, his eyes dark with desire as he gazed down at you. “I want you so badly, baby. I need to be inside you.’’

You nod, your own need perfectly mirroring his.

He paused, taking a deep breath, savoring the moment before he entered you.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, his erection nudging against you.

Slowly, he pushed inside, his pace deliberate, allowing you both to adjust to the sensation. Your eyes widened, your body tensing as he filled you, your muscles stretching to accommodate him.

He watched your face, reading the emotion that flickered across it, a mixture of pleasure and discomfort.

As he sank deeper, your body relaxed, the discomfort fading, replaced by a growing sense of pleasure.

You could feel every inch of him, stretching you, filling you up like you had never experienced before.

He pulled back slightly, his gaze locked on yours, waiting for your cue.

You nodded, and he began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, gradually building in speed and intensity.

His hands rested on your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples, adding another layer of sensation to the mix.

You responded to his touch, your hips moving in sync with his, your moans growing louder, more urgent.

“Fuck,’’ he exhaled, his voice shaky. “You feel incredible.’’

His hands began exploring your body, and you felt a rush of pleasure coursing through you.

Your skin tingled under his touch, every nerve ending lighting up with sensation.

He picked up the pace, his thrusts growing harder, deeper.

You moaned, your nails digging into his back, your hips rising to meet his.

The room filled up with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the rhythmic creaking of the sofa and your mingled moans and gasps.

Geto’s mouth found yours, his kisses hungry and demanding.

His tongue tangled with yours, tasting you, claiming you.

“You're so tight,’’ he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. “So perfect.“

One hand slid down your body, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing in slow, firm circles, a gasp escaping your lips at the contact.

“You’re such a good girl, taking me so well.’’ His heart swelled with pride as he felt your body respond to his touch, your moans and gasps spurring him on.

His fingers on your clit sent shockwaves through you, your muscles clenching around his length.

You could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

Your bodies moved in sync with your walls clenching around him, pulling him deeper.

“Don't stop, please don't stop,’’ you moaned, your voice high and needy.

“That's it, baby,’’ he groaned, his voice strained with exertion and lust. “Let go for me. I want to feel you come undone.’’

His fingers worked your clit with renewed vigor, his thumb circling the sensitive nub, applying just the right amount of pressure to send waves of ecstasy coursing through your body.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth.

He swallowed your moans, basking in the sounds of your pleasure, the proof of his effect on you.

His hips pounded into you, the wet sounds of his skin slapping against yours echoing through the room mixing up with your moans and cries.

The sensation of his hard length filling you, stretching you, combined with the delicious friction of his fingers on your clit, pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

Your muscles began to tense, your body quivering slightly.

“I'm close,’’ you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders, your body arching off the couch. “So close, Geto. Please, I need…’’

He increased his pace, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, more erratic.

He felt your body tensing, your walls fluttering around him, and he knew you were on the verge of climax.

“Come for me, baby, there you go,’’ he breathed out, his free hand firmly gripping your hip.

His words, the intensity of his thrusts, the skilled touch of his fingers, it was all too much, the pressure inside you building to an almost unbearable level

With a cry of his name, you shattered, your second orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

Your body trembled, your vision went blurry, your toes curled as the pleasure consumed you.

Your senses were completely overwhelmed by the intensity of your release.

Feeling your walls clenching around him, the rhythmic contractions surrounding him, urged him towards his own release.

He continued to thrust into you, his pace unrelenting, his movements growing more and more desperate as he chased his own climax.

“Fuck, I'm... I'm going to..." he moaned, his voice strained, his forehead pressed against yours.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning across your skin, his teeth grazing it.

Geto’s body tensed, his muscles straining as he neared his own peak.

His thrusts become urgent, losing their rhythm as the pleasure overwhelmed him.

His pacing was cut off by a shaky whimper as his climax hit him like a freight train.

His hips jerked, his length pulsing inside you as he filled you up with his seed.

His body shuddered, his muscles trembling as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over him.

He collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you into the couch, his breathing ragged, as he tried to recover.

He lifted his head, his eyes finding yours, his gaze intense, filled with a mix of satisfaction and adoration.

He smiled, a slow lazy curl of his lips, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“I've wanted that for so long,’’ he confessed, his voice soft, vulnerable.“Wanted you.’’

He rolled onto his side, pulling you with him, your back pressing against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close.

He nuzzled into your hair, breathing in your scent, committing it to memory.

“Can we stay like this for a little?’’ he asked, his voice hopeful. “I don't want to let you go just yet.’’

You felt the warmth of his body enveloping you, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your back calming your thoughts.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you replied softly, leaning back against him, allowing yourself to sink deeper into the comfort of his embrace.

The world outside the dressing room faded away once more, leaving just the two of you in your own bubble. “I could stay like this forever,” you murmured, the tension from earlier long gone, morphed into a comfortable intimacy.

Geto chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your back. “Yeah? Just you and me in a tiny room, hiding from the world?” There was a teasing tone in his voice, but you could sense the sincerity behind it.

“Sounds perfect to me,” you replied, a smile creeping onto your face.

He tightened his grip around your waist, pulling you even closer.. “You know,” he began, his tone shifting to something more serious, “I really didn’t expect tonight to go like this.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of his expression.

There was a seriousness to his tone that made your heart flutter. “Yeah? How did you expect it to go?”

He hesitated for a moment, the air between you thickening. “I thought I’d just perform, introduce you to the guys and then... you know, go home. But then I saw the way you were looking at me in that crowd and everything changed.”

You felt your cheeks heat at his admission. “Really? I didn’t think I’d make that much of a difference.”

He chuckled again, but this time it held a hint of vulnerability. “You have no idea. It didn’t feel like I was playing for a crowd. It felt like I was playing just for you.”

His words hung in the air, wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

You took a breath, feeling a mix of emotions.

Excitement, nervousness, and anxiety all at the same time.

“Geto,” you started, wanting to say something meaningful, but the way he held you made it hard to think straight.

He turned you to face him, his eyes searching yours. “I know this is all new and kind of overwhelming, but I want you to know that... I’m really glad you’re here.”

You nodded, your heart racing as you looked into his deep, dark eyes. “Me too,” you whispered, feeling the weight of the moment.

He leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours, and for a heartbeat, everything felt perfectly aligned. “I don’t want this to be just a moment. ” he spoke, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

The space between your lips closed in an instant, and you felt the spark of connection ignite again as your mouths met.

Time seemed to stand still as you melted against him, the outside world forgotten.

In that small, intimate dressing room, nothing else mattered.

Just you, Geto, and the growing connection that pulled you closer together.

#suguru fluff #suguru x reader #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen suguru #suguru #suguru geto #jjk suguru #getou suguru x reader #suguru geto smut #jjk geto #geto x reader #jujutsu geto #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #jujutsu smut #geto smut #geto

362 notes · View notes