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viennakarma · 11 months ago

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Happiness is a butterfly

Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: He wants you but he can't have you. But when a fatal crash happens, he realizes maybe he should just take the jump, before it's too late.

Word count: 6.4k

Tags: Female reader, teammate reader, smut, oral, angst, crash, very remorseful nano, cursing, mostly fernando pov, fernando is in denial, age gap (not defined), hurt/comfort, brief mention of Jules Bianchi, happy ending, not beta read

Relationships: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Notes: LISTEN I wish I could control my creative brain but I can’t. *taps mic* Ok, so, who's ready for our little monthly crying session? This actually came to me in a dream after I listened to Happiness is a butterfly, and I ended up incorporating some of the lyrics in the story. I was only contemplating writing this when Anon sent this request asking for angst after a big fight, and I thought it goes perfectly with what I had in mind.

Hope it's to your liking, Anon!

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“Fernando,” You whispered like it wasn’t wrong, like his name was a prayer.

Fernando knew it was wrong, not only because you were a driver and his teammate, but also because you were way too young for him. But whenever you two were like that, you in his arms, it felt so right, so perfect.

Sometimes he wondered to himself if he took advantage of you. Because ever since you first met, you looked at him with big shiny eyes, like you were facing a hero. He knew you were a fan of his, but then again, most of the younger drivers were. But when you two became teammates and got closer, he’d notice how your eyes would find his first thing after entering any room. Whenever you two had chats alone, you’d smile at him in a specific way you didn’t smile at anyone else, blush creeping up your face.

It was so easy to be enchanted by you, by your kindness and willingness. Fernando was drawn to you like a moth to flame, only you didn’t burn him. You were kind to everyone and very talkative, and for a while, Fernando wondered how you managed to get into Formula 1 and keep your spirit intact. Everyone called you a social butterfly. Then he started calling you Mariposa, as a sweet nickname, and he explained to you it meant “Butterfly”.

You two were always together, being teammates, so it didn’t take long for the dynamic shift. Soon, there were longing looks and lingering touches. The way Fernando would always touch the small of your back for a little too long when talking to you, or the way you lean too close whenever talking to him, or the way his eyes stare at your lips every opportunity. Or when you finished a good race and the first thing you’d do was jump on his arms. How you’d always knock three times on his helmet right before going off to the race, he started reciprocating the gesture, since he knew it was probably your thing for good luck or something.

Things went like that for too long, and neither of you were brave enough to take the jump, as you called it.

That until fate put you face to face during summer break. You were in Mallorca with a bunch of your friends for a girls trip in a resort by the sea. You were having brunch when you spotted Fernando at the same time he spotted you, his eyebrows raising in surprise, he muttered something to the people with him that looked like his family members, before coming to you.

“Mariposa!” He hugged you softly.

“Hi! Good to see you!” You chirped, nervously.

Fernando blatantly checked you out. You were wearing simple bikinis and a light beach robe. You were tanned, hair wild and cheeks red like you had come straight out of one of his wet dreams.

“Enjoying summer break?” He asked.

“Yeah, with my friends,” You pointed to where they waited for you at the table, “will you be here for long?”

“No, my family is going back today and I’m leaving tomorrow. We’ve been here for a few days already.”

You waved him goodbye after a quick chat. That night, the weather, the breeze and the empty villa tempted him into calling you. He didn’t want to be that guy so he resisted the urge, instead going for a walk by the beach, alone. As fate would have it, he found you at a small beach party with your friends, dancing and drinking.

Like a magnet, your eyes found his, and you said something to your friends before walking up to him.

“You came to the party?” You asked.

“No, I was just taking a walk and passed by,” He shrugged, and started walking away “I’ll let you go back to your friends.”

“No! No- I mean- Can I walk with you?” You asked and he just nodded.

You two walked away by the shore, the small waves crashing over your feet, and you two chatting about the island and all the adventures you got to go.

“So you went diving, surfing? Everything?”

“I have always been kind of a scaredy-cat, especially as a kid. My dad used to tell me ‘you just have to breathe ten seconds of courage and take the jump’. Funnily, racing was the only thing I wasn’t afraid of. I’m in control, me and the car are one.”

He listened to you for a long while, his eyes focused on the way the wind picked up your hair, your dress flowy in the wind and your bikini top peeking from under the neckline. You were looking delicious, he had to admit. You always were, but now, after spending the whole day under the sun, your skin was golden and glowy, and he imagined himself biting into your shoulder and kissing up your neck.

When you two finally stopped by the villa, Fernando looked at you attentively.

“Won’t your boyfriend be worried about you?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you shook your head knowing that he was just trying to find out if you had someone.

“You don’t? Well you’re pretty and nice, I thought you’d have one by now.”

“You think I’m pretty?” You asked, blushing which made him chuckle.

“You know you are stunning.”

“Well, I know I’m pretty, I just didn’t know if I am pretty enough for you.”

“Mariposa,” his voice had a tone of reprimand, but his eyes falling down your cleavage and body, betrayed him.

“Just one kiss?” You asked, pouting, “and we don’t even have to talk about it after.”

“I can’t.”

“But you want to?” You asked, full of hope.

“We should not,” he whispered as you closed the distance to his face, your face barely centimeters from his, lips dangerously close.

“We could just,” you tried to come up with an argument, but your lips brushed his beard and you lost all train of thought.

“If we start, I will not be able to stop,” he mumbled, trying so hard to refrain himself.

“Then don’t.”

That’s all it took for him to press his fingers to your nape, pulling you in and smashing his lips to yours. And it felt divine, like nothing he had ever done before, you were sweet and the harder he kissed you, the more pliant you got in his arms, sighing and moaning softly as his hand found home over your ass, pressing firmly until your whole body was flush to his.

“Fernando,” you whispered, his lips going down your neck, his beard making goosebumps raise on your skin.

Then you walked inside without really breaking apart. Fernando pulled your dress from your body, staring at you in your bikini.

“This is tiny,” he said, hooking a finger by the string on the sides of the bottom.

You smiled some way you hoped was seductive, taking a step back so he could see you fully as you pulled the strings, letting your bikini top fall to the floor, followed by the bottom soon after.

Soon he had you bent over the back of the sofa, holding onto the seat for dear life as he knelt behind you and ate you out, fingering you ass all the way to a mind blowing orgasm. Then he fucked you senseless, whispering dirty nothings into your ear, switching English and Spanish back and forth. He slapped your ass until it was stinging, whispering about your “tempting tiny bikini”. He had you groaning, drooling against the sofa until your toes curled and you came around his cock.

“Nano… Fuck-” you moaned feeling him cumming too.

He cuddled you, both of you falling on the sofa, spent.

“Why were we holding back? We should’ve done this a long time ago.” You said, lips brushing his beard.

He didn’t answer because he knew why he had been holding back. You were young, sometimes naive, and his teammate. It was double the trouble. But he didn’t allow himself to wallow in those feelings, rather focusing on the feel of you naked in his arms.

“You know what we should do? Stay here a bit longer,” you rose from his chest, eyes glinting mischievously, “we should extend our stay here.”

“Just you and me?”

“Just us,” you whispered, planting a kiss on his chest.

And so you stayed with him. You sent your friends to Ibiza as a gift and Fernando extended his rent on the villa. You’d spend the day lazing around, cooking together and going to the beach or the pool. You played tennis and trained together in the small gym. You made love on every possible surface of that whole villa, which left you spent and satisfied every single day.

And you talked. Fernando considered you to be one of the closests people to him on the grid, but still, he learned so much more about you, about your mental strength to rise and thrive in motorsport. And you were clever and witty, joking around him, talking about life and all your dreams. And he could hear you for hours on end, never getting tired of you.

Unfortunately, your little time of uninterrupted happiness had to end. With a heavy heart, you kissed him goodbye, both of you aware that things would never go back to the way they were before summer break. But you two were also too scared to name anything, or to ruin whatever this dynamic was.

But you left Mallorca admitting to yourself that you had fallen in love even deeper.

You tried to keep texting and calling him, but you usually were in very different time zones so the texts were few and far between. Fernando even sent you a sweet text on your birthday a few of days later.

There was a gala by the end of summer break almost three weeks later, hosted by the FIA, it was mostly for mingling, and most drivers usually went, especially those trying to keep an image to the big shots.

Fernando went there because he rarely missed it. And maybe because he knew you would be there too, and maybe he could leave with you.

You arrived a little late, stunning in a green gown, with a tight corset and a big slit showing your leg. Fernando watched as you made rounds, greeting people and old men, other drivers that were your friends and their wives or girlfriends. You eventually made your way to Fernando, and he proudly waited for you when you walked up to him, the most beautiful smile adorning your lips and eyes shining just as much as the diamonds on your earrings.

“You’re beautiful, mariposa.” Fernando whispered.

“Thank you, you look handsome too. Love me a man in a tuxedo.” You whispered back conspiratorially, winking at him.

You two chatted for a little, watching the people around. You told him everything you did during summer break after you two parted ways in Mallorca. When the slow music started, you watched the couples getting to the dancefloor.

“Nano, can we dance?” You asked. He just stiffened, face unsure.

“Hm, I’m not sure.”

“Nobody will mind, we’re teammates,” you shrugged.

“I don’t think it's a good idea,” He looked at your face, still staring longingly at the couples slow dancing on the dancefloor. Yearning for something he couldn’t give you.

“Mhm…” You hummed, disappointed. You stood there silent for a couple more minutes, watching the dancefloor. Fernando imagined dancing with you, having you in his arms, listening to your voice, your hand on his shoulder. You cleared your throat for a second, “I’m gonna get a drink.”

You didn’t wait for his response, leaving with long strides to the bar, the opposite side. Fernando’s eyes never left you, he watched as you got a drink and sipped a little, sitting on a bar stool. Some people stopped to greet you quickly. At some point, Charles Leclerc stopped you, whispering something that made you giggle a little, then he offered you a hand, probably inviting you to dance, but you refused politely. You grabbed a second drink and turned on the stool, nursing your drink and still watching the party go on.

You wanted to dance with him, not anyone else.

Eventually, the party died down, and Fernando got close to you again, whispering in your ear to meet him in the most discreet parking lot and then he left. You watched his back as he made his way out. Downing whatever was left of your drink, you stood up, making a quick route to say goodbye to everyone.

Finally, you met Fernando in the car. He had driven himself in his expensive car.

As he drove away in the middle of the night, he put his hand on your thigh under the slit of the dress. You honestly wanted to jump him, to make him stop the car anywhere and just get into it.

Quietly making into his hotel room, you kicked your high heels off and kissed him, not giving him any second before deepening the kiss, pressing your body to his.

“Wait,” he managed to croak out. You took a step back. He went into his luggage and picked a small box, handing it to you, “I know your birthday was two weeks ago, but since I didn’t see you- well, happy birthday.”

“You didn’t have to…” you whispered, opening the box to a beautiful and delicate necklace with a gold butterfly pendant with small diamonds all around the wings, “it’s so beautiful, Fernando.”

“Not as much as you, Mariposa.” He whispered back, taking the necklace, placing you in front of the full body mirror and standing behind you and locking the necklace around your neck.

“Thank you”

He kissed your neck, running a hand down your arm, then kissing your shoulders while pulling the hair pins out of your hair, letting your hair free. He kept leaving hot wet kisses on your skin, calling you “hermosa” and “my mariposa” all while unzipping your dress slowly. You let him do whatever, his hands pushing the corset out until the fabric pooled around your ankles kicking it away too, and you stood in nothing but panties and the necklace.

You gasped, staring at your reflection on the mirror and him behind you, his rough fingertips running over your side, getting to your front and cupping your boobs. You felt soft as his fingers pinched your nipples, making you moan softly.

“You ready to take me?” He asked against your ears.

“Please, Nano,” you moaned his name the way you only said it when you were alone and getting intimate.

“Foot there,” he pointed to a chair. You did as he said, one leg up so he could have better access to your panties.

He pressed his chest to your back, fingers sliding inside your panties to feel your obscene wetness dampening the fabric. His fingers slid right over your clit, spreading your juices all around, before diving into your cunt. You moaned, head lolling back against his shoulder, as he pleasured you nonstop. You had been turned on even since the gala, and the ride to the hotel had been pure torture not being touched. So it didn’t take much for him to build you up, his thumb brushing your clit. Your moaning got louder and with the way he could feel your cunt clenching around his fingers, he knew you were close.

And so he stopped, making you whine. He just chuckled.

“Nano! I was so close!” You pouted.

“Needy girl, get on the bed,” he pointed again, like an order, “you’re cumming around my cock first.”

You sat on the bed slowly, still reeling from almost orgasming. You watched as Fernando started undressing in front of you, so you just ran both hands from his chest down to his thighs, fingers barely touching the straining erection in his pants.

“Don’t get greedy now. Wait.”

With his words, you stopped touching him, leaning back so you could watch him undress. When he finally got rid of all clothing, he leaned, kissing your stomach and up your boobs, mouthing your nipples as his hands pulled your panties, letting you lay down on the edge of the bed. You held his head against your nipples, his eyes finding yours through his eyelashes.

When you were both fully naked, he just held your legs open and sank into your cunt, making you moan loud as you back rose up from the bed.

“Nano- oh, fuck!” You moaned, and pulled by his neck to kiss you.

He kissed you back slowly, patiently contrasting your desperate hands on his shoulder, crawling up his neck, fingertips sinking into his soft hair, as he fucked you slowly, pressing you deliciously into the bed, one hand firmly on the bedrest and the other holding your neck, pressing until you were cumming, his lips sucking hickeys into your skin.

You two were cuddling quietly when you decided to say what you’ve been thinking about ever since Mallorca.

“We should go on a date, Fernando. Take the next step, I really like what we have.”

You could feel him stiffening against you, and you closed your eyes, afraid of what his response would be.

“We can’t, mariposa. You are way younger than me,” He said somberly, “and we’re teammates. This would be too messy for the both of us, but especially for you, who is just starting your career.”

“I don’t mind if that’s the price I need to pay to have you.”

“We can’t take this kind of risk for something we don’t even know it’s real.”

That squeezed your heart and made you angry with his denial.

“Fernando, this is real- You know that!”

“Calling a cab to take you to your hotel,” he said standing up and picking his phone. His tone was cold, detached from you, like you were just some toy for him to have fun with, and now you served your purpose.

“Don’t be like that, Fernando. This is more than just sex,” you got up, covering yourself with the bedsheet because it felt too vulnerable having this conversation naked.

“We can’t be anymore than that. You’re too young to understand.” He said not looking at you.

There was a lump on your throat rapidly forming. He knew you hated when people treated you like you were dumb because you were young.

“Please let us just talk about it-”

“There’s nothing to talk about. This means nothing! Nada!” He exclaimed.

“You don’t mean that. Don’t be a jerk.” Your voice was already wavering.

You stared at his back as he turned around, going to the opposite side of the room, your tears started falling down.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He finally said but still didn’t look at you.

“I’m already hurt,” you said, picking up your panties from the floor hastily putting them on, realizing how Fernando had helped you with your dress, so you just picked up one of his sweaters and dressed, “do you want me or do you not?”

“I don’t want you.”

“You’re missing good things in life because of fear. Just take the fucking jump, Fernando.”

The next thing he heard was the slamming door behind you.

When he walked back, he noticed you had left the butterfly necklace on the table. Holding the necklace against the palm of his hand, he wondered if he did the right thing or just lost the best thing in his life.

You didn’t text or called him. And he didn’t either. Eventually he texted you, to tell you had “forgot” the necklace, to test the waters.

“You’re the only one who calls me mariposa. This necklace has no meaning to me if you’re not in my life.”

His mind would often wander back to Mallorca, to those few days you and him lived in paradise. Sleeping late, waking up even later, then making love lazily under the sun, sunbathing naked by the pool, and cooking together, training together. There was never silence with you, since you were always talking or singing or playing loud music.

And he missed it. As the weeks progressed and the more race weeks came, you didn’t try to talk to him about the two of you. You were still polite and talkative, usually filling his silence with stories, talks about the track and strategies. You still knocked on his helmet three times before every race, probably a pre race ritual by now.

He missed you. He missed not only the feel of your cunt around his cock, but he missed your loudness, and your laugh. He missed the light in your eyes that was slowly darkening each passing day. Like you were losing hope he would come around and change his mind.

The last race of the season, he was a little late from a meeting, so you were already getting in the car when he came out. Your visor was up, so you just looked at him, and knocked your own helmet three times as a sign to him, who did the same gesture back to you.

By around ⅔ of the race, there was an accident and the red flag was called.

It took maybe two or three minutes until all cars stopped on the pitlane, lined up under the red flag. As Fernando climbed out of the car, he turned around, looking for you, removing his helmet, guard and balaclava, he went inside the garage.

“Where’s Mariposa?” He asked, to one in particular. But then his eyes landed in Martha, your PT, and her eyes were watery as she pointed to the screen.

A sinking feeling expanded in his stomach as he saw your car, that now looked like an unrecognizable wreckage. He dropped his helmet, covering his mouth with a hand. The marshals were all around your burning car, various people with fire extinguishers, trying to lower the fire enough to pull you out.

“Has she responded yet? Did she say anything?” Fernando asked without removing his eyes from the screen.

“No,” Somebody said, somberly.

“She’ll be fine,” Fernando assured, probably trying to convince himself, and his rapid heartbeat. He had seen and had been in many ugly crashes, and in the end, the driver had come out unscathed. He was sure you could manage, you were very strong and stubborn.

When the fire died down enough, a couple of marshals pulled you out, and Fernando’s heart felt like it was stopping as they pulled you out unconscious. The marshals made a small shield around you and carried you to the ambulance.

Looking around, Fernando finally noticed how everyone was horrified by the crash, and all the drivers around seemed pale and worried. It took a couple of minutes for the FIA to decide to keep the race going, setting it to restart 15 minutes later.

“Fernando,” someone called, and he turned to be faced with George and Alex, who were your closest friends on the grid, “any news on her?”

“Not yet,” he paused, trying really hard to not freak out, “Mike went to the hospital with her.”

“That was ugly,” Alex muttered gloomily.

The tree of them stayed silent, eyes on the screen where a replay of your crash. It was probably a mechanical issue, since you were in high speed when the tyres locked, and you visibly couldn’t brake, going straight into the barriers, full force.

“Will-” George started but his voice failed a little and he cleared his throat, “will she be ok?”

“Yes. She’ll be ok.” Fernando said, not only to calm down the two young drivers, but also to convince himself, since no other option was acceptable in his mind.

You had to be fine.

“Fuck it,” Fernando went inside his room, changing quickly into more casual clothes, as he came out, the team was confused, “I’m sorry, but I have to check on her. Martha, come with me.”

He left knowing he would face terrible consequences with the FIA, not only for not going back to the race, but also because he avoided the press to go to the hospital you were taken to.

On the car, on the way to the hospital they had taken you to, his phone rang, and it was Mike, who had been the first one to go with you to the hospital. Fernando supposed Mike would want to tear him a new one for abandoning the race.

But no. Mike wanted to update him, telling you had a concussion that had knocked you out on the spot, inside the car. They were going to check if you had any more injuries with scans and tests.

By the time he got to the hospital, he met with Mike, and with Vince, your friend and manager, they said you were still unconscious and going through all the examinations necessary. The doctors wanted to see if you didn’t have any internal bleeding or fractures. They kept you unconscious during urgent care, hoping you would wake up after the tests and after the meds wear off.

Fernando sat in the waiting room unmoved, his fear eating him inside every minute you had not woken up yet. Martha was tearful the whole time, while Vince was making calls right and left, he got in touch with your family and closest friends. Alberto showed up around an hour after to pick Fernando up to go back to the hotel.

“I am not leaving,” Fernando said.

“Fernando, there’s nothing you can do. Vince said she will probably wake up late morning tomorrow, we can just-”

“I will not leave.”

Fernando’s words left no space for debate. He didn’t have any commitments for the next week. So he stayed after everyone left, waiting for news on his mariposa. He could barely drink the coffee because his stomach was churning with the lack of news. In the middle of the night, finally they finished the tests and they put you in a room.

After bribing his way inside, Fernando was able to get into your room and see you. You were sleeping, looking peaceful in that hospital bed, using an oxygen inhaler.

“Why does she need oxygen?” He asked the nurse checking on you.

“Here it says she inhaled some smoke before the fire was put off,” the woman explained, reading your chart.

“She will be alright, isn’t she?” He asked, his tone audibly worried. The nurse sighed, as if she didn’t want to say her next words.

“We can’t tell just yet. For now the scans and tests show she is fine, but we can only tell for sure after she wakes up.”

She left Fernando behind with dread consuming his every thought.

As he stared at your unconscious body on the bed, he couldn’t help but remember when you slept with him in Mallorca. Your naked body tangled with the blankets, hair splayed on the pillows and tanned limbs looking for him even in sleep, hugging him and keeping him in bed with you longer than he usually did. He sat by the bed, hand holding yours, running his thumb over your cold knuckles.

The remorse was eating him alive. You had to be alright. You had to wake up soon and laugh at his worried face, joking that you’re tougher than you look. Giving him those eyes. He couldn’t bear not looking at your eyes again, that would break him apart one last time.

Because you could have been his the whole time. He could have slept with you in his arms more often than not. He could have been stealing your kisses in dark corners and going out for dinner after late team meetings. He could’ve received random cute selfies from you throughout his day. He could’ve whispered “I love you” into your skin every night. Only he didn’t.

His last words to you were “I don’t want you” and he couldn’t take it if those were his last words for you ever. He never let himself admit to you that he had fallen. That he was absolutely crazy for you, that he loved you even before you ever kissed him.

He was about to spiral in guilt when your sister arrived in the early morning. She visibly didn’t expect Fernando there, holding her sister’s hand.

“I just talked to the doctor,” Mila, your sister, muttered.

“He said the meds will wear off later today,” Fernando said.

“You can go rest now, come back later.” Mila offered. Didn’t sound like she wanted him specifically out, but more out of worry.

“No, I- I want to stay until she’s awake.”

“Fernando, she wouldn’t want you to wear yourself thin because of her,” The way Mila said the words, it left a little unsaid.

“You know?” Was all he asked. Do you know about us? What do you think? What did she say about me? But Mila just nodded, she didn’t look judgemental.

“I know.”

He was about to leave to at least shower and eat something before coming back. As Mila got closer to your sleeping form, Fernando stood back and your sister touched your hand. Then she knocked three times on the bedside table. Fernando frowned.

“Why did you do that?” He asked Mila.

“When we were kids in karting, Dad used to do that to our helmets before races, each knock means a word. ‘I love you’, and with time it just became a silly habit of hers,” Mila explained.

Fernando’s heart twisted inside, eyes watering.

Knock. I. Knock. Love. Knock. You.

You had been doing the knocks to him for months, even before the summer break.

He left the room without a word, breathing in and out to stop the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. He wasn’t an emotional man by any means, but the knowledge that you have been loving him for so long, broke his heart.

After going back to the hotel to shower and eat, he went knocking in Alberto’s room when he noticed he didn’t have his phone anywhere in sight ever since before the race had started. Like predicted, Alberto had his phone.

In his suite, Fernando unlocked his phone to hundreds of notifications, a lot from other drivers, asking for news about you, since not the Formula 1 or the FIA had released any notes about your condition. After shooting a few answers to the other drivers, he finally saw one notification, saying you had left him a voicemail the day before. From the time stamp, it was a bit before the race.

Wide eyed, he pressed play on the voicemail.

“Hey, I’m about to go out in the car, but I guess I just breathed 10 seconds of courage, well not enough to wait to say it to you face to face,” you giggled nervously, “but what I mean to say is, I love you. Probably not what you wanted to hear, but I do love you. And I know you don’t feel the same, but maybe you could… I don’t know, maybe you could take a chance on me. I know your reservations about the world, but… We should take the jump. I can make you really happy if you let me. And maybe one day you will grow to love me- god, that last part was pathetic- Shit- How do I delete this?” There was noise as if you were struggling with the phone and then someone called your name far away, “one second!” you told the person, “shit, I gotta go. Just please, can we talk over the winter break? I guess what I mean is that-” Then the beep ended the message, cutting your voicemail off.

He pressed play a couple more times, until he could breathe again, your voice offering some sense of peace to his mind. You were willing to have him, even after he kicked you out of his hotel room, even after he pretty much ignored your history all these past few months.

It would be alright. You would wake up, he would tell you he loved you and he was so sorry that he had wasted so much time being afraid of what people may think or how the world might treat you.

Only you didn’t.

You didn’t wake up after the meds wore off. And Fernando, your sister, Vince and Martha were all shocked when the doctor said it was possible you were in a coma.

“Everything seems ok, but she’s not waking up. Sometimes the body takes a little more time to recover from traumas like this.”

“When-” Mila’s voice failed, tears streaming down her face, “when do you believe she could wake up?”

“We can’t pinpoint that with precision,” the doctor answered.

“Get all the tests redone,” Fernando said suddenly, “maybe you missed something.”

“But-”

“I’ll pay for it.”

That’s all he said before leaving and entering a toilet by the waiting room. His chest heaving, he watered his shaky hands to try and calm down. You didn’t wake up. They weren’t sure when or if you would wake up. And, fuck, Fernando had seen that before with Jules, who was comatose for months before passing away.

He remembered the blinding pain of losing a friend and he couldn’t bear losing the love of his life too. Fernando stayed in the stall for a while, trying to calm down his terrified thoughts.

When he went back, your sister was still crying, being comforted by Vince.

“Fernando, can you stay here while we call my family?” Mila asked, and Fernando nodded.

As they left, Fernando sat by your side, holding your hand. With his thumb running over the back of your hand, he looked at your face.

“I don’t want you to go,” he whispered, “I need you here. There’s still so much for you here. Please, I just need you to fight a little more, yes? You have always been stubborn.”

He waited for some kind of miracle, for you to wake up, for your eyes to find him like they always did even in a crowded room.

“When you recover, we will go out, on a proper date, and we’ll dance, like you wanted to. We’ll hold hands and I’ll take you to meet my family.” He kissed the back of your hand softly, “Wake up, Mariposa.”

He stayed there the whole day, letting your sister go find a hotel to stay and get some sleep. Then at night, she came back, assuring Fernando that he should go to sleep too, she knew he was more than a day and a half awake. Back at the hotel, he showered the smell of hospital off and made some calls to take care of his businesses. He texted George and Alex to update them. He also talked to his family, giving updates on his teammate, but not prolonging the chat as to not risk breaking down because of the state his mariposa was in the hospital. Then he went to sleep after a quick dinner, exhausted enough to sleep fairly quickly.

He managed to sleep the whole night, going in and off dreams of you, his brain probably too worried to really forget, even unconscious. He woke up at dawn, going back to the hospital so your sister could leave to rest.

Fernando checked on you first thing, and you were still unconscious, but your sister was on the phone talking to your parents, so he just left to give her a little privacy. He went into the cafeteria and drank a small cup of coffee.

As he went back, he noticed how agitated Vince looked on the phone right outside your room.

“Vince, what happened?” He asked, dreading that the worse had happened in the few minutes he was away.

“She woke up!”

Fernando’s eyes welled up with tears as he opened the door.

“-No, no, don’t talk just yet. Let’s wait for the doctor,” you sister said to you, then both of them looked at Fernando, who looked rooted to the spot, “Fernando! She woke up!” Your sister said through happy tears.

Your sister hugged again, kissing your head, whispering how she loved you all while Fernando stood there, trying to will his limbs to move. Then the doctor and a nurse came, asking you all to leave so he could examine you.

He waited outside as your sister went on the phone with the good news to your family again. Then the doctor came out, announcing you were looking good, and apparently no sequelae but they would still keep you for a few more days for close examination and to make sure everything was alright.

Barely registering anything, Fernando just entered your room, and you smiled at him. You smiled. Your eyes shining bright like you had just woken up from a simple nap.

And then he cried. Fully cried for the first time since the accident, like the relief of seeing you alive and well broke the dam of the tears he had been trying to hold back. And he could breathe again. Covering his face with both hands, he tried to get himself in control but he only stopped when he heard you.

“Na-” your voice was hoarse, “-no.”

“No, don’t talk yet. The nurse said your throat might feel a little dry.” He managed to subside his tears enough to talk.

When he sat down on the chair, you lifted your hand to hold his face. You were still a bit weak, but you wiped his face of the tears. He held your hand with both of his, kissing your palm.

“You gave us quite the scare,” Fernando said with a small smile. You smiled back, looking sleepy, “I thought I was going to lose you.”

You shook your head minimally but your eyes had that mischievous glint, like you were thinking of a silly joke about how tough you actually are.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for making you think I don’t love you, when I really do. I have for the longest time. We’ll make it work, however you want,” he just dumped the words, not wanting to lose another precious second not being yours, “soy tuyo, Mariposa. Te amo, mi amor.”

You just held his hand, squeezing it slowly three times. I. Love. You.

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 #formula 1 #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso #formula one #Spotify

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elsblunt · 11 months ago

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small groans and curses fell from ellie’s lips as the pads of her thumbs tapped little buttons on the controller. she was leaned back in the gaming chair, occasionally straightening up at a difficult part of the game. a pair of boxers hanging lowly on her hips, a white tank riding up her stomach, exposing her skin. “fuck— shit! stupid fucking ten year old..” ellie growls, biting at her lip.

she doesn’t know what she’s doing, what she’s doing to you. as you sit on the bed, eyeing her every few seconds, squirming. ellie doesn’t notice, too caught up in whatever’s going on on the screen. just how she doesn’t notice you getting up and crawling under her desk. until she feels you toying with the fabric of her boxers. “babe what’re you doin— god, jesse!”

“nothin’.” you answer, smiling softly and slipping your hand up her thigh, fingertips guiding under her boxers before pulling back. you notice her brows furrow and eyes glance down at you for a few seconds. ellie can now catch on to what your doing. you press your thumb to her clit, making her hips jerk and hiss through her teeth. “babe.. stop. oh my god! shoot— shoot them you dumb fucking cunt!”

you just giggle quietly for a few seconds, keeping your finger there and swirling it around. few groans bubble from her throat and you notice her eyes fluttering, biting at her lip softly. then you press your tongue, pulling it up and down. free hand resting on her lower stomach, toying with her waistband. ellie’s finger presses on the mics button, turning it off.

“cmon, use that mouth.”

#🎀 ⋆·˚ ༘ *#𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐚'𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬.#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams #tlou2 #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams headcanons #ellie tlou #ellie x reader

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misahyochaeng · 5 days ago

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Webcam Honey >.< !!

(Sana x Fem! Reader) 🔞

tw: cam!girl reader, dom!sana, sub!reader, established relationship, humiliation, LOTS of dirty talk, fingering, degrading, cunnilingus, edging, vibrator, overstimulation, praise, strapon. (NOT PROOFREAD!!)

summary: You and your girlfriend have a ritual of going on a fancy date once a month due to both of you guys normally having busy schedules. But today, you got kind of caught up…

—

The lights were slightly dimmed to set the mood, body glistening with sweat as you went to work on your pussy, knuckles and palm covered with a thick coating of pussy slick that dripped down by small drops onto your mattress; you stared at the camera infront of you, donations flooding by on your second monitor with messages from old men and virgin perverts with no life praising how sexy you looked and telling you how they wanted to touch you.

Being honest, it was gross, but it worked out, knowing you could pleasure yourself almost daily just to earn a solid hundred-bucks, you began doing it as a profession.

You cupped your clothed tit, a lacy pair of red lingerie barely covering up your chest as you pinched and toyed with your erect nipple, holding eye contact with the camera as you put on rather exaggerated faces in pleasure.

That was until you heard your front door open and footsteps getting closer, “Baby, i just got back from my cousin’s!” she exclaimed before she opened the door with a smile “Just gotta put on some fancy clothes before we…” She took in the sight, cameras propped up as you toyed with your pussy, now muted, obviously. “head out…”

She sighed, playing off a small hue of pink on her cheeks, trying to maintain her composure, “Interesting.. I thought you said you don’t stream on our date nights..” she sulked a bit. “F-Fuck babe—, It’s tonight?..” you furrowed your brows as you stared at her, lowering the camera angle to your lower body so they wouldn’t see you talking to your lover. “Yes, honey, it’s tonight that we have our monthly date.” she eyed you up and down, jaw clenching a bit in annoyance as she realized you forgot something so meaningful to her.

“I’m sorry my love, i forgot.” You put on a pout as you put your movements to a halt, realizing the situation becoming serious. “You forgot it was our date night?” she interrupted, “I’m sorry, baby, please i’ll make it up to you.”

Sana scoffed “Uhuh.” She bit the inside of her cheek in annoyance, narrowing her eyes are she stared you down. “Are you mad at me?..” you frowned, a wave of guilt rushing your body, not even daring to look her way from how shameful you felt, toying your pussy rather than getting ready for your date.

“Can they hear me?” Sana pointed at the mic you had placed near you “Wait, Sha.. don’t—“ she tapped the unmute button. “Hey stream!” She adjusted the camera back onto you both as she smiled rather enthusiastically, completely different to how she was acting when she was away from the camera. “What are you doing” you asked concerned as you tried to adjust yourself, trying to stop Sana.

“What do you mean what am i doing, just saying hi..” She smiled softly, eyes beady as she stared at the camera, a small wink thrown onto the lense as she giggled, “Y’know… my girlfriend must REALLY love her little fans, since she completely forgot about our date tonight and instead wants to play with herself infront of you guys!” she retorted inbetween gritted teeth, looking directly at you through the camera. “You must feel sooo special, don’t you?” she clenched her jaw even harder, knuckles growing with from her tight fist.

“Love, please I forgot, it was just a mistake.” You caressed her arm, squeezing it a bit to reassure her, Sana glared at you “Let’s make this little ‘mistake’ never happen again, alright?” she used air quotes as she crossed her arms, the chat flooding with questions and multiple arguments, if it were up to you, you’d end the stream and delete the account by now, thought your girlfriend had other things in mind.

“Plus.. even if you make mistakes the first time, you still need lessons, right?” You twitched, hand extending to finally end the life, she pulled you down by your wrist “Don’t end the stream, baby, the show must go on, no?” You whined. “Go ahead, keep playing with yourself.” Sana sat next to you now, legs and arms crossed as she stared at your soaking wet cunt, eyes darkening with lust.

“Baby please, i’m shy..” You closed up your legs, redness trailing down to your collarbones as you began shielding your body off. “Oh you’re shy now? Is it because i’m here watching you play with that dirty pussy?” her voice turned husky as she leaned closer, whispering in your ear

You felt the heat inbetween your legs grow as you squirmed at her hot breath against your ear. “Guess i’ll help you, princess.” she ran her fingers up and down your slit ever-so slowly, her gaze fixed on your center like a predator waiting to feast on its meek prey. “Aww, look how wet your pussy is.” she teased, voice laced with pity and she showed you off to all the people watching. “Poor chat, you can look, but you can’t touch. This is all mine.”

She bit down on your neck, leaving kisses and purple bruises right where your ear and jaw connect, every touch from her sending a shiver down your spine. “But you sick fucks probably get turned on by this, no?” she eyed the camera as she began to rub your clit, mouth still hungrily latched on to your neck.

She stuck her fingers in, your body jolting forward as you moaned loudly for her, your wet pussy sucking up her fingers easily, “Gosh, baby, that moan was so hot.” she pumped her fingers at a steady pace, “Same as the sound of how wet you are for me.” Sana wrapped her hand around your neck and pulled you into a kiss.

“Just love going in and out of this pretty cunt..” she bit your bottom lip before going back to your jaw, she eyed your main monitor for a sec, the number of views growing up to almost more than four digits “Well look at that, the viewer count really grew.. maybe if i have a hundred more people on, i’ll use a vibrator on her, hm?” Your eyes widen as you were about to protest, but was quickly cut off by her fingers curling deep inside you, your pussy clenching against them.

“Don’t complain, baby, i know your pussy gets so wet when you get fucked infront of a bunch of people.. especially when we did it in that balcony, got so noisy for me, i bet everyone knew how good i was making you feel.” She pumped her fingers hard as she smirked, your noises growing with each and every ministration.

“You just like getting treated like a fuck-doll, don’t you?” you nodded profusely, Sana letting out a cocky chuckle as she began to talk to the camera again. “Can you hear those slutty moans, and she goes even crazier when i use my tongue like this..”She leaned down and latched onto your puffy clit, you squeezed her head with your thighs as you pushed her deeper; though she was quick to pull apart.

“Fuck—no, baby please..” you whined loudly before grabbing her by the wrist towards your cunt. “Aww, you want me to eat you out, baby? After forgetting our planned date? You selfish fucking whore.” She pumped her fingers even harder, curling deeper than before.

“Beg, beg me to eat that wet pussy.” she spit on your cunt before dipping her fingers in again. “Gosh—Fuck, Baby please.. PleASE..” she slapped your cunt, “Come on, you can do louder than that.” and so you did, practically screaming and begging with no shame for her to eat your cunt. “That’s my girl”

She wasted no time and dipped into your center, vile groans and moans leaving her mouth as she slurped and licked, her noises vibrating against your cunt as your thick pussy slick coated down her chin; her defined nose rubbing your clit from time to time, giving you even more stimulation.

She sucked like her life depended on it, like someone who hasn’t eaten for days, enjoying their final meal, your taste drove her insane and she couldn’t have enough. You tangled your fingers in her brunette hair as you threw your head back in pleasure, she smirked against your pussy at every reaction you gave her, spitting on your cunt again before dipping back in; you felt the knot forming in your stomach.

“You gonna cum, baby” Sana looked up at you, locking eyes as she bobbed her head on your cunt, paying attention to inside your pussy and your puffy clit. You nodded desperately as you pushed her head further, with a harsh smack of her lips, she pulled apart—“No.”

“Baby, please—“ she shut you up with a kiss, “Not yet, love, we made it to a thousand more views, i promised id use the vibrator on you. Now lay down slut.” You were about to protest but hesitated, doing as she asked, she put a vibrator wand right on your clit, turning it on the medium setting.

You gripped the bedsheets, legs shaky as you moaned non-stop, Sana giggled, “So fucking pathetic, just moaning away.” your lip quivered as you shut your eyes, knowing that you weren’t gonna hold the urge to cum any longer; one of your hands went to hold onto Sana’s arm, which was moving around—going up and down with the toy on your puffy pussy..

“Look at her just squirming around and holding onto my arm so helplessly..” she bit her lip as the talked to the viewers, she was holding back—a lot—she wanted to fuck you then and there, to make you feel good. She good practically cum just by the sound of your moans, but she knew you had to learn your lesson.

She leaned in to whisper in your ear. “When i’m done with you, you’ll be a filthy cumming mess.” she nibbled on your earlobe before landing a tender peck on your jaw. You felt the knot forming again, and you knew you couldn’t hold it “Babe—Close, please I—“ She interrupted “Shhh…you can take it” you protested—“Please!”— Her voice turned stricter this time—“Baby i know you can take it.”

You tried pushing her hand away, you knew the stimulation was too much and you’d cum without her permission. Sana landed a harsh slap on your pussy, “Stop fucking moving.” she bit back in annoyance, you put your head down in shame. “If you can take forgetting our date you can take this, bitch. Move my hand away again and i’m turning it up.” She pulled you harshly by your jaw so you’d look at her, you stared with lidded eyes, too fucked senseless to even think properly, you nodded.

You screamed as you pushed her hand away again, quick to regret it, “You’re just fucking asking for it, aren’t you?” she turned up the setting to the maximum, pressing down on your pussy.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you begged her to stop, voice cracking and body shaking while your breath hitched. “Sana, please—Fucks sake!” Sana put on a fake pout as she pressed it down more, a scream coming out of your lips that even the neighbors could hear, “Aww you wanna cum? Say ‘please Sana can i cum?’”.

“Pl—ease.. Sana— fuck.. can I cUM!” Sana pressed a gentle kiss to your lips “Cum for me, my love.”

And with those simple words, you quickly came undone for her, vision turning blurry as you arched your back, body spasming, knuckles turning white from how hard you gripped the sheets, collapsing on the mattress. “Good girl, baby..” she teased as she landed a peck on your cheek, the vibrator on max setting still on your clit. “Baby, please.. I can’t take it anymore.” tears ran down your eyes as you stammered with your words, “I’m not done with you yet baby, you’ve been doing such a good job.” the vibrator was collected with slick, the mattress sheets stained as your inner thighs glowed under the light.

“You’re so pretty when your eyes roll back like that, love” she stick her tongue on and lick that one sensitive spot on your neck. “I know you love being tortured like this, whore.”

Tears ran down your cheeks, “Aw, you’re tearing up? It’s okay baby, one more minute.” She payed attention to your neck again, going down to your collarbones to nibble and leave marks at them too.

She turned it off.

“Bend over, baby.” she reached for the strap harness, a purple dildo attached to it. “Face the camera, i want everyone to see the faces you do when i make you feel this good.” you obeyed, though protesting a bit at facing the camera. She lined her tip in, sliding it up and down to lube it up with your wetness. “Aww look how—“ she whined as she stuck it in “pretty you are.. fuck..” she began moving her hips slowly “Gosh it’s already soaking wet..” the room felt hot as she groaned and moved her hips, skin slapping echoing the room.

“Mmm…Baby your moans are so pretty..” she put her hands on your hips, toying and squeezing the skin there. “Come on, tell the stream how much of a slut you are, begging to be used.” you stammered, trying to speak but you felt good—too fucking good. “Come on..speak up, baby.”

“I’m— hnghh.. i’m sorry, please.” Sana put on a sarcastic facade as she faked gasped “Oh you’re sorry huh? You’re sorry?” You nodded. “Well let’s see how sorry you are now, bitch” She began thrusting at a rough pace, your mouth falling open as your tits swinged forward and backward at every thrust. Sana looked at the viewer count again, “Damn, basically everyone is here.. just watching your pretty pussy get fucked.” you screamed her name.

“Hmm? Does that turn you on, huh? Having everyone watching all the lewd faces and slutty noises from my strap, hm?” you nodded as your hand rose to cover your mouth, a cracking noise was heard as a stinging pain rose to your ass, Sana landed a harsh slap on it.

“Move your fucking hand.” She stopped her thrusts to warn you before going back to fucking you hard and good again. “You’re lucky i don’t have my handcuff and gag, bitch. I want you creaming all over this strap.” She angled herself deeper, your pussy squelching echoing the room, “Such a nasty bitch.”

She grabbed you by the shoulder and lifted you up a bit, hips still going to work, “Come here baby.” she pressed her lips onto yours, humming in delight as your saliva exchanged, knowing you were tasting yourself on your lips right now. “Good slut, now admit to the chat that you love getting fucked infront of people.”

“I-I loved getting fucking infront of people..” you said inbetween moans “Yeah? you liked getting ruined infront of everyone, Y/N?” she angled it deeper than before, hand going down to rub your clit in figure eights. “Fuck—Yes, mommy.”

Sana’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, “Fuck, you know how much it turns me on when you call me mommy.” She gripped onto your tits for support as she fucked you even harder, guttural groans escaping her lips as she fucked you at an animalistic pace, the mattress creaking and shaking harshly.

Sana moaned as the strap rubbed her clothed clit, “You gonna cum, baby? Cum for me. Fucking cum for me.” She stuck her fingers in your mouth as she helped you ride her high, back arching as you seized and twitched on her, Sana wrapping you in a warm embrace as you laid groggily on the bed, fucked stupid.

Sana stood up and reached for the camera, “Well this was just a one time thing.. I need to uhm..” she stared at you for a moment, drool dripping on the corner of your lips as you laid there, eyes closed “take care of this lady…”

She fumbled with the controls.

“How do you turn off this thi—“

#wlw #gxg #twice smut #twice x reader #kpop gg #kpop smut #smut #kpop #wlw smut #lesbian #sana x you #sana x reader #sana x fem reader #minatozaki sana #twice sana #twice minatozaki sana #Spotify

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bluetooththereptile · 1 year ago

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Unwelcomed embrace (part two)

Yandere super family x neglected reader

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

Note: this one shot is continuation of this one.

Tw: mentions of violence

"Why don't you have one of those small micro earphones that you attach to the collar of the clothing?" You groaned as you tried to find a good position to rest your hand on under the weight of the mic in your hand, you sighed as you looked at its round head, you didn't like it that much, it felt uneasy in your palm. The chair was too rigid for you to sit comfortably on it, creaking under your weight. You looked down at the mic that had a sock on as a muffler, smiling at the inventiveness of the reporter. "I presume your budget is not that much huh?" The reporter nodded with a sheepish smile as he tried to put on some powder to conceal some of the scar marks on your face, well, as much as your skin color let him do so. "Yeah..." he sighed "the budget is low."

You looked at him, focused on his task, young and ambitious, just like you, you felt like he had the same recklessness as well, why would a sane person come and meet a dangerous anti-hero over a post on Twitter? "Ready?" He asked as he adjusted his camera, you shifted on your seat once more, checking the dark background of the warehouse you were in, and then looked back at the shiny lens of the camera. You paused, still, your hand didn't have a good place to rest its elbow on, huffing in irritation, you rolled your eyes, you had to do something about it, if it kept irritating you, you'd end up messing everything up. So you focused on the cemented floor below, making a thick-bodied plant sprout out of the harsh floor and bend towards you, its leaves forming a cocoon, you smirked and put the mic on the head of the plant and used it as a stand, chuckling at the amazement of the reporter "Now I'm ready!"

"1...2...3..." the reporter spoke softly before the camera started filming and the red light on its front started blinking. "Alright, please introduce yourself..." he spoke to you behind the camera, tapping his pen nervously, you hummed to yourself and tapped your chin as you crossed your legs, trying to find a point to start from "I feel like a Podcaster now..." you joked, before clearing your throat as you started "Well, I'm what media used to call the "Green super" You used quotation marks in the air, your voice showing hints of your initial irritation to the name, which had associated you with superman since your powers were nearly the same. "But now I go with the Green Death, pretty cheesy, but I like it" you chuckled and continued "Well the name is not that far off from my personality either, I am green, my skin is that color."

"So, Green Death, your name has been on the news as the sole force that has kept the Armageddon from happening, twice, already, and now you, all of a sudden, while you had ignored the chance of interviewing with huge media broadcasters, have decided to have an interview now, here in the middle of nowhere, why is that?" You rubbed your chin as you thought about a response, your lips tilting upwards in a smirk "Well, now I have enough evidence to finally show the world who the heroes truly are." You paused, taking it the confused expression of the reporter, adding quickly "Make no mistake, I'm not going to expose their identities, that would make hell break loose, I just simply want to shed a much more different light on them and their actions. As you may know, I was a part of the young Justice League and then Justice League itself for a few years, and I'm the result of a 'heroic affair' myself, so I'd have a very different insight on them..."

"Why though? I mean we pretty much know about the heroes..." You let out a soft chuckle, leaning back in your seat "Well, that is sort of true, but tell me, do you know of the assaults and different crimes that have happened by their hands? For example, do you know Batman has kidnapped nearly three people and has erased their documents out of the system, making them vanish into thin air, never to be seen?" The reporter's eyes widened at that, your smirk turned into a wide smile as you continued "I have both the video footage and documents of it happening..."

"B-but why do you want to expose them for their deeds, knowing well you are fully aware of what they can do, surely they don't want anyone to know that... " "I have exposed the bad guys of the story already, my mother is after me because of that, so I don't think exposing the heroes would be any different...the world has to know who they truly are!"

You were hellbent on tarnishing the images of the heroes once and for all.

Since the time you had left the Justice League, your life had changed a lot, just within two years, you had gone from being a hero to a villain and then to an anti-hero, a cruel topsy turvey irony. It all had started with your mother finally owning up to her parenting role and had found you in your most vulnerable state when you were struggling to pass your days in your trailer. She took you in and tried in her twisted way to help you, for a short period you felt like you had a family, she seemed genuinely nice. But a few months later, you ended up joining the dark force, how? You still were not sure, all you could remember was your mother's voice echoing in your mind as she puffed a shiny dust in your face, and you shaking hands with the Darkseid himself as he had that disgusting grin on his face. It was after that night that you found out that bitch had manipulated you into joining the bad guys, well who wouldn't want to have a version of Superman in their league that wasn't vulnerable to kryptonite? At first, you tried to pretend that you did want to hurt people just for the fun of it, in your mind, you were taking revenge on your father, who looked devastated whenever you had joint missions with your new teammates.

Well, you couldn't deny that the sheer rush of dopamine you felt was great, no rules were there to hold you back, just destroy and enjoy, the loot was lucrative as well. But, still, something in the back of your mind nagged and you couldn't overlook that you hated hurting vulnerable people and you couldn't do it anymore, so at a very crucial mission, you ended up killing all of your teammates before fleeing. You gave your mother a good beating up before you dropped her on the Arkham's doors and then vanished into an abandoned base until things became normal. After that your way of life became of an anti-hero, you didn't want to admit it but annoying the heroes was fun, at least you weren't killing vulnerable people. You did what they couldn't do, you fought without rules and the results were more drastic.

But you wanted to roast your father more, you wanted to make him burn, and what was better than exposing him? "As for Superman, he at least has killed more than 100 people in his missions, the government has already covered that up but I have the proof...flash has caused a climate change that ended up ruining agriculture of the whole world for a year, resulting in famines, Aquaman has sunk a few ships, that were NOT of military-related, killing civilians, also, Wonder woman has kidnapped a few people...and so on and so forth." You started warming up, mentioning more and more of what you knew.

The reporter took note as you spoke, and you were liking the role of the one exposing the hidden secrets of the heroes. You were actually enjoying it too much, so much in fact that your super-human sense didn't detect the flight of Superman and Superboy coming to your location at a bullet-like speed. And within seconds they both crashed into the warehouse Kool-Aid style, making a huge impact.

You were quick to react, using your laser eyes to attack Super Boy, but Conner was quick to dodge, Clark quickly pulled the reporter out of the range of the fight and out of sight, he let Bruc take care of the reporter and his evidence later, now he had you, his troubling child that was now entering dangerous waters. Conner and you fought, trashing the warehouse even further, you didn't know why but Conner's grin was getting on your nerves already.

The two supers had a plan of taking you down, and it was going pretty smoothly, going just as planned, you grew to angry and Conner used it to his advantage, pinning you down by a broken pillar, giving Clark enough time so he could throw the pollen towards you, damn it! How the hell they had gotten their hands on the special pollen that your mother had created just for controlling you?! You tried to not breathe, but the bitter taste of it already had formed in your mouth, making your mind go foggy. Damn it! Damn it!!!!!!

"We need to talk..." Clark's voice echoed in your mind, your vision was so distorted that you could only see the silhouette of your father approaching you "And we need to talk properly!" His voice made your heart skip...uh oh...Clark was serious.

#yandere #yandere batman #yandere dc #yandere x reader #yandere super family #yandere super boy #yandere superboy #yandere superman #yandere clark kent #yandere conner kent #yandere supergirl #yandere superfam #yandere superfam x reader #yandere x neglected reader

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aestrayla · 11 months ago

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the ultimate distraction ft. scaramouche

summary: your lover who plays video games day in and day out had never been much of a problem to you. however, as weeks drag on with little to no attention received, you decide to take matters into your own hands. gamerbf!scaramouche (wanderer) x f!reader, modern!au

cw: 18+ SMUT and sexual themes. minors and ageless blogs DO NOT interact, established relationship, unprotected sex, dubcon, cum, pet names (baby, kuni, scara), hickies, teasing, humping, semi-public-ish??, handjob, creampie

word count: 2.7k

a/n: i just finished the sumeru interlude quest recently and kinda found scara cute as fk so i made this (now officially my longest fic), but anyways hope u enjoy :3

it was just another day in your shared apartment. your boyfriend playing video games on his pc, screaming into the mic, completely unaware of his surroundings; and you, his sweet girlfriend, just observing from afar, entirely fed up with his antics.

creeping up behind him, you decide to wrap your arms around his neck while placing your head into the crook of his neck, his soft cologne filling up your senses. however, your boyfriend decides to ignore your presence as he furiously taps his controller, yelling into the mic, “GO LEFT, GO LE— BRO THAT’S YOUR RIGHT, I SAID LEFT!”

rolling your eyes, you began to place tender and delicate kisses along his shoulder and up his neck. upon feeling the kisses, scaramouche’s heart rate increases slightly, but he remains focused on the game, slightly growling into the microphone, more out of frustration than anything else.

pulling your lips away, you finally began to speak, “baby, you’ve been playing all day this week. can’t you just take a little break?” you pout against his shoulder.

he sighs and rolls his eyes, pausing his game while pulling his headset off and setting it down onto the desk. he leans back into the chair, stretching his arms out a bit, “fine, but only for a little while.”

you take this small opportunity to climb up onto the chair, settling right on top of his lap. your legs hanging off the sides of the chair while your arms lace around his neck. the weight of you against his lap had his cheeks dusted in a warm pink, but he doesn't say anything. instead, looking past you and focusing on the pause screen of the game.

you tilt your head to the side, purposely covering the screen with your head, forcing him to look you in the eyes, “i said, take a break, remember?” scaramouche huffs softly, growing slightly nervous at your proximity. he reluctantly closes his eyes, trying to ignore your demands.

seeing his stubborn little attitude, you begin your attack of kisses once more, leaning in and placing soft kisses along his neck, slowly moving up towards his jaw. as you apply pressure and slowly move in, his heart starts beating dramatically, his mind screaming at him to ignore you, but his body responding to your touch.

for a moment you peer up at him from below, “kuni, you’re always so focused on your game. can’t you just give me a little bit of attention right now…?”

“mmm...”he hums blankly. he tries to resist you, but his body is betraying him as he leans into your touch, the tension in his muscles beginning to ease. your affectionate kisses begin to turn into harsh sucking against his skin, littering his neck in an abundance of red marks.

gasping, his hands clench into fists, his body shuddering slightly from the unexpected sensation. his heart rate skyrockets, and despite his protests, he finds himself growing increasingly aroused. you begin to rock your hips against his lap, softly moaning beside his ear, as his growing erection begins to prod at your clothed clit.

“nnngh...!!” his eyes snap open, staring into yours as he gasps, unable to believe the intensity of his response to your touch. his hands tremble slightly as he reaches up to gently hold your face, pulling you into a deep kiss that leaves you both breathless.

suddenly, you stop grinding your hips, ending the build up to bliss. which resulted in his hips jerking up into you aimlessly before he groaned in irritation. your boyfriend pulls back, his face flushed and his breathing ragged. his eyes are narrowed and the annoyance is evident on his face as he glares at you, “what was that for?!” he snaps as he begins to reach over your shoulder for his headset, “forget it, i was in the middle of something important!”

you stare back at him, gently grasping his wrists back before sighing, “since your game is so important, how about we make a deal?” his brows perk up in interest as his pursuit for his headset pauses.

“oh..? go on then,” he encourages.

“i’ll let you play your game, but only if i get to stay here in your lap.”

he grits his teeth and grumbles under his breath, clearly not happy about the idea, but unwilling to completely dismiss it. after a moment’s hesitation, he reluctantly nods, “fine, you can stay here.” you smile in response, burying your head into the crook of his neck for comfort as he began to start up his game again.

“hmph...” scaramouche leans back against the chair and adjusts his headset, trying to focus on the game again. he can feel your breath against his skin and the warmth of your body against his, distracting him further.

after about ten minutes of playing, scaramouche begins to relax slightly as your body falls limp against his. his mind wanders away from the game as he starts to focus on the weight of you in his lap and the softness of your skin against his. you begin to mumble random words out in your sleep, “kuni… miss you…” his heart skips a beat at the sound of your voice. he glances down at you, his cheeks reddening slightly.

as time passes, scaramouche finds it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the game. the flutters in his chest grow stronger, and he can't help but smile softly at the adorable sight of you sleeping in his lap.

as a couple more minutes pass by, your eyes begin to flutter open as you awoke from sleep. your boyfriend unaware that you’ve woken up as his eyes remain glued to the screen. you begin to nip at his neck again, hungrily sucking at the flesh. scaramouche's heart races at the unexpected sensation. his face flushes as he tries to ignore the bite marks and focus on the game, and his body tenses under your touch, but he doesn't move you from his lap.

as your lips move further up, you even begin to lick at the shell of his ear. his heart thunders in his chest as he tries to remain focused on the game, skin tingling from your touch, but he tries his best to remain silent and not draw attention to the fact that you're in his lap.

“scara?” you call. your boyfriend continues to pretend to be focused on the game, but you can tell he’s very distracted by you. his breath hitches slightly, but he doesn't respond.

“are you on call a with your friends on the game?” feeling your warmth against him, scaramouche's mind begins to wander. he tries to ignore your question, lost in thought about how much he loves having you in his lap. “answer me!” you snap.

scaramouche's heart races at the commanding tone of your voice. he takes a deep breath, trying to focus and ignore the hot pulse of desire between his legs. “yes... yes, i’m on call with them. can you... just a minute—”

you huff before rocking your hips against him again- delighted about this new-found information. “a-ahh!" scaramouche lets out a startled gasp, his eyes widening as he feels you move against him. his face turns bright red, as he can feel the heat spreading through his body.

you try to grind as fast as you possibly can can against him, with intent to make sure his friends hear every noise that escapes his lips. his heart is pounding out of his chest now, his eyes screwed shut. he’s trying to focus on anything other than the sensations you're giving him- the way your hips are moving against him, the way your whimpering against his ear, the way your fingers are tightly grasping the back of his head. “wait! g-give me a second... i need to-!”

you cut him off, immediately attaching your lips to his, pushing your tongue past his lips, furiously intertwining with his. your boyfriend gasps into the kiss, his eyes flying open in surprise, but quickly slamming shut again as he's lost in the heat of your passionate assault, “f-fuck, i-i can't... we need to stop...”

“why kuni? i need you…” you whine in between kisses. scaramouche tries to pull away, but your grasp is too strong. he tries to clear his thoughts, but his mind is in a jumble of lusty thoughts, and the desire that's building inside of him is too intense, “we... we can't...”

“just play your game, i’ll handle it,” you mutter. he reluctantly nods, trying to focus on the game again. the feeling of you in his lap is a constant reminder of the things he wants to do to you, but he suppresses those thoughts, instead focusing on the game.

before a moments notice, you’re pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it aside, revealing your perked up breasts that become squished between his body. “ahh!" scaramouche lets out a strangled gasp, his heart racing as he feels your bare skin against him. he tries to keep his eyes on the screen, but it's becoming increasingly difficult with you sitting, practically naked in his lap. you stare at him in delight, enjoying watching him panic a little.

scaramouche takes a deep breath, attempting to control his racing heart and lustful thoughts. he continues playing the game, his hands shaking slightly from the mixture of excitement and arousal. pulling your panties aside, you begin to rub your bare cunt over his sweats, your arousal beginning to stain his pants. “s-shit!" his eyes bulge out of his head, and he gasps loudly. he can feel the wetness against his crotch, and it's driving him wild.

“shh… you don’t want your friends to hear, do you?” you purr. scaramouche shuts his eyes tightly, trying to block out the sight and sounds of your pussy rubbing against him. his breathing becoming increasingly ragged as he focuses on playing the game, but it's becoming increasingly painful.

you can feel his cock growing harder and harder, his need for release becoming more and more evident. “fuck... i can't..." he grits his teeth, trying to control the desire that's building inside of him. his fingers clench around the controller, and he forces himself to concentrate on the game, even though it feels like his body is about to explode.

you slowly begin to pull down his sweats, just enough to allow his hard and heavy cock to spring free. and with your thumb, smearing his pre-cum across his flushed tip. “ahh... g-god... why won't you let me play the game?!” he protests as he feels you rub your thumb across his sensitive cock head. his heart races, and he grinds his teeth in an attempt to control his building desire. “i am, aren’t i?”

“fuck, you're killing me..." he moans softly, unable to resist the feelings that you're evoking in him. his hips begin to buck involuntarily against your touch, his need for release growing stronger by the second. after stroking him a couple of times, you begin to raise your hips over him before quickly sinking down onto his cock, softly whining against his ear as you feel him expand your insides, filling you up completely.

“ahhh... fuck, you're so tight... feels like i’m gonna cum..." he grits his teeth, trying desperately to focus on the game as you take him deeper inside of you. his hands tremble slightly on the controller, betraying his intense arousal.

“already? i haven’t even moved yet,” you tease.

“no, i mean... i can't hold out much longer... it's been so long since we've done this... ’m sorry, i need to finish this level... just a little longer...”

“’m sorry kuni, but you know i’m impatient...” you begin to raise your hips up before slamming back down onto his length, your breasts jumping against his chest.

“fuck... y/n..." he groans, his hips bucking up involuntarily as he tries to resist your movements. sweat beading on his forehead, his breathing becoming ragged. after getting comfortable, you begin to bounce at an incredible pace, unable to contain your mewls and whines, “kuni~ feels so good…”

“ahhh... i can't— hold out... much longer..." he gasps, his voice breaking as he finally surrenders to the pleasure, reaching around to grip your hips and pulling you closer to him, his cock throbbing painfully in time with your movements. you can’t stop chanting his name over and over again, completely cock-dunk over him.

"fuck..." he grunts, his body shaking as he loses control. he thrusts up into you, meeting your bouncing motions with fervour, his hands digging into your hips to hold on. suddenly scaramouche hears a tiny voice in his ear- it’s a friend from the call, “yo what��s going on bro? is that your girlfriend?”

saramouche's face contorts in annoyance and embarrassment, trying to focus on muffling the noise from the headset, “shut up! it's none of your business!”

his friend replies, “jeez man, no need to get mad. just tell her i said hi.”

“fuck off!” he growls, trying to block out the unwanted voice while continuing to pound into you, his rhythm slightly thrown off by the interruption. you begin to whine harder as you felt his angry tip prod and poke at your cervix again and again, biting into his neck to muffle your cries.

hearing your whimpers, scaramouche's body tenses momentarily before he regains his focus on the task at hand: pleasure. he groans deeply, bucking harder into you, trying to drown out the unwanted noise from his friend. “mm… feel so full, scara… ’s too big…” you babble.

“shh... don't talk...” he whispers, panting heavily. his hands gripping your hips tightly causing crescent shapes to mark and bruise your skin, as he continues to thrust into you. he can feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, his mind whirling with pleasure and frustration. the slapping of your hips connecting rhythmically was extremely lewd. his balls smacking the fat of your ass again and again. “fuck!” he grunts, his hips driving into you harder and faster, feeling like he's about to lose control. the sensation of your bodies connecting together is intoxicating, sending waves of pleasure coursing through him.

“baby, i can’t- ’m gonna cum!” you cry.

“don’t…!” feeling you getting closer to the edge- your pussy throbbing and squeezing him tighter, his body tenses in anticipation. he tries to hold back his own orgasm but fails miserably, feeling his seed shooting up into you as he groans loudly. a piercing moan escapes your lips as you feel your pussy getting stuffed full of his cum.

“fuck!” he continues to pump his seed into you, his grip on your hips tightening as he tries to maintain control. his body shudders from the intense pleasure, sweat beading on his forehead. your body was helplessly rutting against his cock, completely drowned in pleasure as you reached your high, legs trembling from arousal.

“hnnn...” scaramouche's breathing was ragged, his heart racing. he leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours as he finally lifted you off his cock, which was still twitching slightly. “shit…” you could feel his seed slightly seep out of your cunt, dripping onto his sweats and slightly on the chair.

“damn...” he panted heavily, trying to catch his breath. his indigo eyes locking with yours, his face still flushed from the intensity of the moment, “that was... insane.”

you giggled softly, “is your game still more important than me?”

“no... you're important too,” he chuckled slightly, reaching out to caress your cheek, “but sometimes this shit’s just too addicting.”

you frowned slightly, “i’d rather you be addicted to fucking me dumb, scara…” you joked.

“believe me, i am. it’s just... hard to resist sometimes.” he leaned in, kissing you gently on the forehead. “let’s take a break, yeah? we can cuddle and watch some tv or something.”

“mmm… okay.” you slowly pulled yourself off of his lap before making your way to the living room. before he got up to leave, another voice was heard in scaramouche’s ear, “sounds like someone’s getting treated good tonight~!” his friend teased, “that sounded like some good sex, man!”

“fuck off, dude! shut up!" he growled, pulling his headset off and standing up, slightly shaking his head and chuckling at his friends jokes before heading off to cuddle with you.

thanks for reading <3 if u made it this far, i just wanted to ask… what did u name ur wanderer??

835 notes · View notes

atzfilm · 1 year ago

Text

king’s play (m);

🎨 wc/pairing; professor!hj/f.professor reader (4,1k)

🎨 genre/content; college!au, fluff, smut: rushed, explicit & unprotected smut

🎨 summary; shadowing your colleague as a new professor, you come to realize the reason why his classes are at full capacity within five minutes of registration

🎨 note; this is self-indulgent and i have no remorse you all are coming down with me.

You balance three coffees in one hand as you rush up the steps, desperately trying to be on time once in your life. Students say hi to you as you run past, a quick smile as you greet them back. You have exactly one minute until your dean scolds you for being late, again, and you were sure this was the time you would be there. But unfortunately the train stopped in the middle of the tracks for a car accident, twice, and it left you with barely enough time to get here. A short 15 minute ride turned into an hour one. It’s not your fault, no, but she’d somehow blame it on you. You push through the front doors, almost dropping a cup as you run through the halls.

“Fifteen seconds!” You fly by Professor Jung’s class, shooting him a glare as he laughs at you, closing his classroom door. You slide around a corner, almost making it to the auditorium. The bells ring before you can open the doors. You slow down, swinging it open with your free pinky and running inside. The room is already full with your students, the Dean sitting in the corner of the classroom, her glasses resting on the tip of her nose. She sighs softly, rubbing her face as you run up the steps, placing the coffee carefully on the podium. You throw your bag down on the table next to it, reaching for the projector remote and turning it on.

The chatting from the students fades out when you clear your throat, tapping on the mic lightly.

“Today’s lesson,” you start, trying to catch your breath. “Is that you never trust public transportation. Ever,” you add. A few students chuckle, your Dean’s frown deepening. The world must be against you; on the one day you needed to be early you couldn’t. And it’s the day she evaluates how you run your classes. You sigh into the mic, rubbing your face. “Pardon me, but I left my usb on the train by accident. Still, you all have the slides I emailed you correct?”

A hand is raised in the front, and you gesture to her. “Yes, Soyeon?”

She points to your side table, “Professor, the coffee is spilling everywhere.”

You quickly turn, the brown liquid dripping to the floor. Perfect. Just… perfect.

“That was a disappointing show you gave me this afternoon, Professor y/n,” your Dean says once all the students leave. There’s no use in hanging your head in shame, but you do anyway. It was indeed embarrassing, but you could’ve been worse. You heard that one of the anatomy professors broke a projector and wrote on the whiteboard in permanent marker.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean for anything like that to happen. We were supposed to use the coffee for watercolor, but so many things went wrong and…” you trail off, her unpleasant frown only deepening as you try to excuse yourself. “I’m sorry.”

“This is unacceptable,” she starts up again, tucking her files into a thick black binder. “I’ll have to reduce your classes next semester, Professor. At least until you get your act together. You won’t earn a permanent spot on the faculty if you continue down this route.” She stands, tucking her purse underneath her shoulder.

“Wait, is there anything I can do? Please, I really didn’t mean for this to happen. I had an amazing lesson planned but things just happened. Please Dean, I really do apologize. I’ll do my best the rest of the semester.” You can’t lose your spot here. This is one of the top universities in the country, and being fired or removed from the faculty is a black stain on your record. No one would want to hire you. You’d be forced to move back to your hometown, and deal with the disappointed looks your parents will give you.

She pauses, eyeing you. “Despite your display today, the students do enjoy your classes. You’ve had high ratings in comparison to the other adjuncts that are currently here. So although I do not like what happened, I can give you another chance. Professor Kim Hongjoong is teaching another class right after this block, and I would like for you to shadow him. Attend his class tonight, and speak to him after about times where he can help assist you in your journey to possibly becoming a full time faculty member. Will that be okay with you?”

“Yes!” you say it a bit too loudly, coughing. “I mean, yes. Thank you for helping me out.”

"You do know the reason why I observed your class. A student complained about your tardiness. That is something we don't allow at our university."

"I understand," you plaster a fake smile as she nods, leaving you behind in the classroom. You know exactly which student told on you; the only person you've ever failed. He was the grandson of one of the university's largest donors (to the point where a building was named after their family) so it was unthinkable to fail a student in that high regard. You hate nepotism, so you didn't give them a chance. He barely showed up to class, and expected an A? You could barely hold in your exasperated scoff when he complained to you. And that choice led you to now. On the brink of losing your job.

"Fucking hell," you mutter, making your way back to the podium to pick up your things. Shadowing Professor Kim. It's going to be a long, long night.

You grip the large coffee in your hand as you walk in the classroom. It’s a large art studio, several paintings on display already. You were going to take a seat in the back, but you decided to place your things on the side and observe the work instead. You take slow steps, taking in each painting. Being an art professor yourself, you can see what techniques each student used, and where they lacked. But overall, the paintings were amazing, especially for a freshman class. Students began to walk in while you were walking around, so you sit in the far back, enough to not disturb but close enough to see what’s going on.

“Evening,” Professor Kim walks into the classroom. You’ve seen him on campus a lot. The art department is pretty liberal with its dress code but he always stands out from the rest; customized clothing that he obviously did himself, piercings lining his ear, nose, and brow. Most of his clothing is oversized but it fits him well. You’ve sat near him in meetings, his jovial nature contagious. And he wasn’t bad looking, at all. You often were at a loss whenever he spoke, his soft tone pleasing to the ear.

Hongjoong gives easy smiles to the students, chatting with each before he gets to the middle of the circle. He claps his hands, a light grin on his lips. “Ready to paint tonight? A quick recap, we’re on the last night of this painting, and for the next, it’ll be freestyle. Any painting medium you’d like, just make sure you can finish it in five sessions.”

Light groans fall from the lips of the students, and he nods, “I know I know. I’d rather at least eight, but we only have six classes left until your final. Need five of those to work on it. Oh,” his eyes flick to yours. “Didn’t even realize we had a guest.”

“Ah, sorry. Thought the Dean mentioned it,” you say, bowing quickly to him. He waves you off, telling the students to start on his paintings. He makes his way over to you, hopping over brushes that lie scattered across the tiles. He stumbles slightly over his own feet, before making it to you and stretching out his hand. You take it with ease, noticing his painted nails. They’re black, fingers adorned with rings.

No wonder students fought to get into his class.

“I’ve seen you in meetings, but we never get the chance to speak,” he says, grinning. “Nice to officially meet you. I’m Professor Kim, but you already know that.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Professor y/n,” your smile matches his. “But of course, you already know that.”

He laughs loudly, completely genuine. “Well, I’m assuming the Dean put you up to this? She always sends people she doesn’t like to my class,” he sighs. “Not your fault!” he says quickly, eyes widening. “God, now you probably think it is your fault. This is why the other professors don’t like me.” His pout is almost adorable, but you don’t get the chance to dwell. A student calls him over, and he apologizes, leaving you back to your own devices.

You sit back in your spot, watching as he speaks to the students softly. You hear various music genres playing out of students’ headphones as he makes his way around. He definitely has a lot of leeway in his class, the Dean telling you that you couldn’t allow students to play music while they’re drawing. Sure, this is your first semester teaching at this university, but you know how to run a classroom. You’ve been teaching at public highschools for years. So you sit there bitterly, watching as students listen to his advice, his slight jumps when he thinks of an idea, his widened eyes as he listens to their feedback. You could probably watch him all day.

A soft bell rings out in class. He turns off his alarm, saying his goodbyes to students. They clean up their workstations as he packs his things, moving around the students and making his way over to you. “So, what d'ya think?” He wiggles his brows, his piercing moving along with it. “I honestly am not too sure why she’d make you shadow my class, especially in the middle of the semester. I’m not doing much but watch them paint,” he rubs the back of his head sheepishly.

“Nope, I can definitely see why they’ve taken this class,” you admit, looking at the paintings. “I mean, they’re just freshmen and they already have their own styles and ways of doing things. And you don’t dismiss it like I’ve seen others do. You embrace it and encourage them to build on it,” you meet his eyes. “Think you have an open spot for a professor?”

He laughs, blush coating his cheeks. “You’re flattering me.”

“Maybe, or maybe I’m being one-hundred-percent honest,” you grin, throwing your tote over your shoulder. “I think a few of your students have questions. I’ll see you next class, hm?” You gesture to a group of young women.

He nods, wishing you a goodnight and quickly moving over to the students. You shake your head at him, moving around the easels and leaving the room.

It’s a bit intimate, watching another’s eyes as they focus on something else entirely. The quiet observation, hushed breath as they take in whatever they’re looking at. Observing how they smile, their eyes widening in realization, the way their gaze flicks to yours in awe. It’s overwhelming when your eyes finally meet, your stomach dropping slightly when they look at you in surprise. There Hongjoong is, staring at your eyes as you look back in shock. You wonder if he felt the drop that you usually do, but he keeps your gaze, soft and innocent. Until you see his pierced brow quirk up, waiting for you to say something. That’s when you have to tear away, show your excitement without focusing on his gaze.

“I can believe you have this set! I mean, how? Really, how. Did you steal it from Picasso or something? Raid an art supplier? Professor Kim, this is insane,” you hold it delicately. As if the palette will suddenly shatter if you gripped it too tightly. Of course it wouldn’t, but no ordinary person just holds this.

You’ve been shadowing him for the past two weeks, watching as he walked around the classroom with effortless confidence, spoke to his students with excitement only someone who’s passionate about their subject could muster. Professor Kim Hongjoong was one of the most talented and spirited colleagues you’ve ever met. A lot of them were older and cared less about teaching art (not all, but many). But the way he commanded the room had you silent, staring in awe. Looking past his outer appearance, he cared about what he did. And it only made your dilemma more difficult.

The two of you spent time outside of class together; at first speaking about classes, but soon going into discussions about personal lives and hobbies. You learned that he had his own studio and he invited you to it one night. So, here you are, staring at one of the rarest painting palettes to exist.

Hongjoong laughs at your suggestions, shrugging. It’s modest how casual he is about having it in his possession, and it’d make you want to slap him if you weren’t so immersed in the bright colors. “A friend of mine had a friend who was friends with a famous art seller. Word spreads around, and I found out where they sold these sets. I sold my first car just to get it,” he says.

Your eyes almost fall from their sockets. “You’re shitting me.”

“Shh,” he holds a paint covered finger to his lips, glancing at the open studio door. “The dean will kill us both if she hears you speaking with banned, colorful words,” he wiggles his fingers, and you laugh. “What? You know her, she’d take classes away from me next semester!”

“Not you, but maybe me,” you say, placing the palette back in its place. “She’s been out to get me ever since I won that faculty award last February,” you frown. “It’s not like she could win anyway, no one likes her. And it’s rare for a student to enjoy her history classes. I barely kept my eyes open when I was an undergrad here.”

He frowns. "I was unfortunately one of those faculty members that had to sit in on one of her lectures. I can see why her ratings were so low," he snickers. "Her tenure was definitely the only thing keeping her here. And she isn't too bad as the dean. A bit straight laced for an art school, but you have to be in a position like that.”

“Yea,” you agree, placing the palette back in its spot. You look around the room. You can tell that he loved using acrylics the most, his paintings abstract and bright. But you saw racks and racks of custom clothing as well. It was definitely a messy studio, he mentioned it before you entered, but you loved it. It’s like you’re walking into his mind, seeing what he’s seeing. You stop at an unfinished painting. It looks like a person, though you can’t quite tell who it is.

“That’s my first love,” he says behind you, hands tucked in his pockets. “She tore up my heart, but she was my muse and the start of my journey. S’not finished, but,” he runs his hands along the outside of the canvas. “Not sure if I want to finish it anyway.”

“It’s already beautiful,” you say, tilting your head. The strokes are bold, as if he was angry as he painted. It’s barely done, but you can already imagine where it’ll end up. “Fucking Hell. You’re one of the most talented people I’ve ever met.”

His laugh is loud, echoing around the large room. You turn to him in mock anger, pouting. “Are you laughing at me, Professor Kim?”

He nods, “Don’t know why I get all giggly when I’m around you. Maybe it’s because you’re my crush.”

“Don’t tease,” you roll your eyes, ignoring the thump in your throat. You hold it in, only a grin exposing your feelings.

Nothing else came of that night. Just you wondering each day if he actually meant those words. If he found you attractive, if he had a crush on you. He didn’t mention it again to you either, the heavy flirting continuing. It almost made you feel a bit kiddish, thinking about your crush on him. You thought you grew out of the giggling with your friends about a boy stage, but apparently not. You’ve spent each night recollecting his words, screaming into your pillow. It was embarrassing and you’d rather not think about it. But he’s been on your mind ever since, taking over every day dream.

“It’s pathetic,” you murmur, putting an earbud in your ear. You’re at the annual conference with other professor’s, making a painting to showcase at the end of the event. You only had a few hours and you barely started, most of your canvas empty. You glance to your side, looking at Hongjoong’s. His was as covered as yours, so it was a relief. You looked back at your painting, feeling a heavy stare.

You glance to the side again, Hongjoong meeting your gaze.

“I hate being stared at, you know,” you retort. His lips curve into that lopsided grin of his, your face warming without remorse. “That implies that I want you to stop staring, Professor Kim.”

“It’s your fault you’re so pretty, Professor. It’s a bit hard to look away even for a brief moment,” he says softly. But he follows what you say, eyes moving back to his painting. As if he didn’t utter the tenderest compliment you’ve ever heard. You let your hand rest against your chest, trying to control your heart. You don’t notice how his eyes flick back to yours for a moment, amused.

"You can't say things like that," you start. He pauses his stroke, glancing at you.

"Why not?"

"People might get the wrong idea." (People = yourself).

"And what if it's not wrong at all?" He raises that pierced brow of his again. It's taking everything in you to stay in your spot, your teeth grinding together as you grip your stump. Think good thoughts think good thoughts–

"I want you, Professor y/n. It's as simple as that," he adds in.

You almost press the paintbrush into the canvas, hard. You look around quickly, the other professors in the room too immersed in their artwork to notice what he’s saying. And all of them have headphones on, so his soft whispers won’t go past you. You look back at him, wetting your paintbrush.

“Don’t tease me,” you whisper back, lightly mixing the red.

He sighs softly, “I’m not teasing. I don’t know how much more obvious I can make it. We’ve been on two dates already.”

This time, you do paint incorrectly, your brush falling to the floor. You grab your cloth, dabbing the canvas quickly to get rid of the mistake. Luckily it disappears in an instant. You let out a sigh of relief, turning to Hongjoong. You lean closer to your canvas, making sure no one can read your lips.

“Two dates? I don’t even remember the first?”

“First, my studio. Second,” he gestures around here. “This.”

“You’re calling this conference a date?”

“I invited you to sit next to me,” he smiles, glancing at you. “Is that not enough for one?”

Kim Hongjoong may be one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever laid your eyes on, but man, was he a dumbass. You nudge his foot, glaring at him. “You are such a-!”

“Hm?” He raises his brow. “Such a what, y/n?”

You lose your train of thought, mouth opening and closing as he stares at you in amusement. You never thought that someone saying your name would sound so… alluring. You swallow, turning back to your painting. He doesn’t say anything else to you, but you feel his shoe tap yours. You still don’t say a word, even as his foot covers yours.

“I swear Hongjoong–”

He stops tapping, and you falter.

“Hongjoong?” He whispers softly. “Fuck, say my name again.”

Nope.

You stand, grabbing his arm. He yelps, a few professors glancing. This is completely and utterly unprofessional, but you don’t care at that moment. Because right now, you want to find the nearest empty conference room and - well. You drag him into the first room you see. Just as you peek in and make sure no one is around, he shuts and locks the door behind you. There’s only a momentary pause, before his lips are on yours. His work is quick, teeth hitting against one another’s, vests tossed to the side, coats somewhere on the opposite side of the room. Your back hits the conference table rather harshly, ouch spilling from your lips. It makes his quick pace falter for a moment to look at you in concern, but you’re already unbuttoning your blouse. He lifts his shirt up with one hand, and you have only but a brief moment to admire his tattoo decorated skin before he’s on you again.

“Think they’ll notice we’re gone?” You tease through kisses, his lips traveling down your neck. He snorts slightly, looking back up at you.

“They wouldn’t if you weren’t so involved in the presentations,” he slips off his pants, playing with the buckle of yours. Your hands cover his, aiding him. Soon enough you’re both pantless

“No one was speaking up, there had to be a sacrifice- oh-”

His fingers slip into your underwear, sinking into you with ease. His palm nudges your clit as he does so, lips still against your neck. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer into you. He curls them, moving in and out quickly. You hold back a moan, fingers digging into his skin. You hear a speaker in the distance, grabbing his hands and pulling them out. He looks at you in confusion, but you only slip your hand into his pants, stroking his cock. He groans, head pressing against your shoulder.

“No time,” he murmurs.

“I know, that’s why we need to be quick,” you whisper, nudging him closer to you. “Think you can fuck me and be done in less than five minutes?”

He rolls his eyes, “Not in college anymore.”

“Hongjoong…” you frown, and he swallows slowly.

“Fuck, I love when you say my name,” he pushes his underwear down. Just as you’re about to say it again, his cock sinks into you with ease. You press your hand against your mouth, holding back the moan that threatens to escape. His fingers grip your hips, pulling you closer to him as he presses his hips into you. You let your hand slip in between the both of you, rubbing your clit at the pace he sets. His fingers dig harshly, breaths loud.

“You feel so good around me,” he mumbles. “Just like art.”

“Joong,” you utter, only causing him to move quicker. He lets go of one side of your hip, moving your own hand away and rubbing your quickly. “Fuck, I’m close.”

“Come for me, pretty girl, come on,” his teeth bite your neck softly. You wrap your arms around his back, humping his hand. It happens much quicker than you realize, his soft whispers in your ear pushing you over the edge. You hold him tightly as he stills of you. “y/n, fuck, y/n I need to come pretty girl.”

You let him go and he pulls out immediately. He disappears before your eyes in a moment, grabbing the garbage under the two of you and coming. The sight is humorous in itself, but you’re in too much of a daze to let a laugh out. You slowly get up from the table, looking around for your vest as you pull up your pants. He steadies himself, turning around to look at you. A lazy smile crosses his lips, following your suit to redress. After a couple of minutes of gathering yourselves, you turn, looking at him.

“A garbage can?” You snicker, tossing him the hand sanitizer you keep in your pocket. He catches it with ease, frowning.

“There’s nothing else around!”

He adjusts his shirt, messily. You move closer to him, helping him adjust his coat and shirt to look not too wrinkled. He does the same for you, tucking loose strands of hair back into its place. His eyes stay on yours as you do so, flicking back to your lips.

“I wasn’t lying,” he says. “You are pretty beautiful, y/n.”

“You’re pretty handsome too, Professor Kim,” you smile at him, ignoring the rattling of your heart.

“I don’t…” he trails off, thinking. “I don’t want this to be a one time thing, I want us to be more than a one time thing. You’re more than that to me.”

“I want that too, Hongjoong.”

Relief washes over his face at your words, “You’re not teasing me right?”

“No, I do like you. I wouldn’t have let you do any of that if I didn’t. But maybe we take it slower next time? Like taking me out for coffee?”

“Okay,” he steps away from you, glancing at the door. “Time to go, then?”

“As long as you don’t go out there with that lipstick on your mouth,” you grin. He grabs his phone and looks at his face. There it is - a long streak of lipstick against his cheek. He rubs it quickly, using your hand sanitizer.

“You would have let me walk out there like that?” He asks, eyes wide. You only shrug, walking past him and out into the hallway.

#fic: kings play #hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez oneshot #hongjoong fanfic #this has been in the drafts since april 2022....

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chavezwhore · 1 month ago

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The Singer (Chapter 2)

A/N: I think there should be one more chapter of background and then we’ll get to the good stuff! Thanks for reading! Xoxo 💋 Chapter 1

After the excitement of the prior day, Y/N walked into the studio to start recording on her new album. She was so excited to get started, this was the culmination of a lot of months of hard work and songwriting so that was huge for her. She was also especially excited because Cooper was going to be stopping by, and it would be great for her best friend to hear some of the songs that she held extremely close to her heart.

“Hey Y/N,” her producer greeted her as she walked into the room they were using for the day, “you look nice today.” Y/N smiled back at him, greeting him with a wave and a hello, “Thanks Michael, I feel like I need to look my best to sing my best, ya know?” She glanced around the room, greeting the production assistant Jessica as well.

Y/N shrugged off her jacket, taking a sip of her hot tea before speaking again, “Just so you know Coop is stopping over sometime today.” Michael nodded, a smile on his face “sounds great, it’s been awhile since we’ve seen him.” Jessica glanced at the female, a knowing look in her eyes, “Is he perhaps going to bring the inspiration of some of these songs? Nicholas is it?” Y/N flushed and rolled her eyes, “I don’t think he’s bringing him, but let’s get started, yeah?”

Y/N walked into the recording booth, “Let’s start with Taste, if you don’t mind,” she put on the headphones and started to tap her foot to the beat before singing the song. Once the take was finished, Michael clapped, “Incredible! What song do you want to do next?” Y/N looked down at her phone, seeing a text from Cooper: “We are on the way over now! Can’t wait to see you in action! Lots of love 💕” Y/N looked up, “Uh, Coop is on his way, let’s do Good Graces.” She put her headphones back on, pondering who exactly “we” was.

Cooper glanced over at the male sitting in the passenger’s seat of his car, “Just so you know, she might not be super thrilled to see you. She thought it was just me coming. And when I texted her that we were on our way, she left me on read,” he chuckled softly, “she’ll warm up to you, don’t worry.” Nicholas nodded, looking out the window, “it’s not big deal, you should have told me she would be uncomfortable and I would have stayed back.” Cooper shook his head, “It’s fine Nic, really.”

Cooper pulled into the lot putting his car in park before glancing over the male next to him, “She’s only like this when it’s someone she’s interested in, but you didn’t hear that from me,” he said with a wink before getting out of the car. Nicholas followed him out of the car, thinking about what Cooper had just said, interested in? No, that’s not possible.

Y/N finished the take of Good Graces and glanced down at her notebook, before looking up at Michael, “okay, this is a risk, they’ll be here any minute, but let’s run through Bed Chem…” she trailed off a bit as the door opened slightly. The female giggled nervously, “hit the track before I change my mind.” Michael nodded, pressing the backing track and sitting back, turning off the feedback from the booth as Cooper and Nicholas walked in. Michael turned around in his chair, “Welcome! We’re just starting a new take so she’ll be out after this track.”

Y/N took a deep breath before starting to sing. This song wasn’t one hundred percent about him; but it was definitely inspired by him in parts of it. She finished the take, running a hand down her face and talking into her headset, “That was pitchy right?”

Cooper grabbed Michael’s mic and spoke, “That was amazing! I’ve never heard that one before! When did you write that?” Y/N walked out of the recording booth, enveloping Cooper in a hug, “Uh, a few days ago, I think. Everything kind of blends together these days,” she glanced up at Nicholas through her eyelashes, “Uh, hello again Nicholas, surprised to see you here.” Nicholas smiled at the female, “Yeah, sorry to barge in like this, Cooper told me you knew and I just believed him, I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable.” Y/N glanced up at him, the fact that he was concerned and apologized slightly melting her heart. She smiled at the male, the first genuine smile in a long time, “No, no it’s totally fine! Have a seat, you guys are welcome as long as you want to stay.”

One knowing glance from Jessica later and the younger female mouthing, “shut up” Y/N was back in the recording booth, “I was thinking we go into Juno? And then we can break for lunch?” Michael nodded, starting the backing music, “Do your magic.” Y/N nodded, beginning to sing the song. Nicholas looking on with amazement. Yeah, he was in deep now and he had only just met her.

#nicholas chavez x y/n #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez x reader #fanfiction #slow burn

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vellichor-of-the-solivagant · 1 month ago

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How To Plant Snapdragons | 12

Task Force 141, Keegan, & Konig x Female Criminal!Reader

Previous Chapter / Extra Chapter / Masterlist

“For the third time, don't burn down the house,” Graves reminded in the comms, but before he could make another warning, you tossed your communication device away.

Alejandro had also offered to infiltrate the house for further information and safety. Maybe, he had come to realize the good deeds you did throughout the day for his men. He had already come to the other side of the place, waiting for your actions to start.

“Here,” Soap handed you a . . . another device, which looked like seemed to be a throat mic to you, given its design.

You eyed it skeptically, looked up at his blue eyes, and then back down at the abomination. With a grumble, you snatched it from his hand. “I suppose this is for my safety and way of communication, but I'm getting rid of it after this shit.”

“It's better to put it under your clothes, to keep it hidden,” Ghost suggested, turning and taking a step towards the two of you.

You nodded in agreement and went towards the door which led down the stairs from the roof, and hid behind it. You unbuckled your vest, letting it fall down to your feet, and tugged off your fitted shirt. The cold air of the night kissed your skin as you attached and adjusted the mic around your throat.

A bit uncomfortable, but doable.

You slipped back into your clothes and tapped on your neck to feel the fabric over the mic. You picked up your vest, strode back out, and met the Sergeant-Lieutenant duo for the last time.

“Ready?” Ghost questioned, and with a heavy sigh, you nodded. “Say something.”

“Men suck,” you blurted out as he took the vest from your grasp.

“Rude.”

You chuckled softly and behind his mask, through his brown eyes which turned dark and unreadable in the dimness of the night, you knew he was holding a smile.

Honestly, you'd like to see what kind of man he was behind the mask. Who was Simon Riley truly? But all in all, you wouldn't want to force an answer out from the guy. He wasn't like the Ghosts who were open with their faces except in missions.

“How's the comms, Graves? Alejandro?” He queried, his finger going to his ear, and he nodded the moment after and brought down his arm. “Connection is good. We'll be able to hear ye, but ye won't.”

“Copy,” you replied in a blink.

Soap put a hand on your shoulder and patted you lightly. “Careful in there, Bonnie.”

You remained unmoving at your spot for a couple of seconds, until Soap called out, concern lacing his voice. You shifted your eyes at him and looked up, watching if Graves’ heli was within your sight, and put a hand on Soap’s shoulder.

His thick brows knitted in confusion. “Bonnie?”

You remained silent and fished out a notebook and a pen small enough to keep hidden in your vest. The paper was still a bit wet, but you wrote down,

—Don’t speak. Please.

and showed it to them. But they merely glanced at one another, cautious of your uncharacteristic actions.

With no response from them, you flipped to another page and scribbled,

—If I do anything suspicious, feel free to do anything you want on me. But first, let me tell you something.

Once again, they looked at each other, before the ghost silently gave a nod as a signal.

You smiled and nodded at them as thanks, and started writing down. They waited a minute for you to finish, and you dropped on one of your knees, putting down the notebook and the pen on the concrete. You stood back up on your feet and moved a couple of steps back, raising both of your hands in the air.

Soap crouched down to pick it up and read it as he straightened up, while Ghost watched you in caution.

—If something happens to me or if something suspicious unfolds, contact Captain Price and Laswell immediately. Leave me, if you must, to keep yourselves unharmed.

Johnny frowned and quickly handed it to Ghost.

Ghost swiftly took the pen from his foot, noted,

—What the hell do you mean?

You carefully took the pen and notebook back, read what he noted down and hastily wrote a reply.

—I have a promise to Captain Price to prioritize your safety. Again if anything not good happens, go to Price and Kate as fast as you can. They’ll tell you the reason why I’m telling you this.

The Lieutenant took the items back and let Soap write down on the next page.

—What about you?

—I’ll leave it to you guys to be my knight-in-shining vests, if you still trust me by then. Or now. And please, keep quiet about this.

Upon reading the last words in your notebook, Graves’s voice echoed in the Lieutenant and Sergeant’s comms.

“What’s the hold-up, boys?” he asked, and you immediately, pointed at your tummy, and hugged it, acting as though it was hurting, which they both immediately got.

“Her . . . Her stomach is hurting,” Soap announced in the comms.

You gave him a couple of thumbs-up in approval and spoke, “I think I, ugh, drank dirty water from the river earlier.”

“Uh, she says she might have drank water from the river,” Soap replied.

Graves scoffed. “Tell her to suck it up, and don’t let it get in the way of the mission.”

“If ya drank water from the river, why are you still thirsty?” Ghost questioned, making Soap snap his neck the Lt.’s way and blink at him in surprise.

Wait, that’s a good comeback, you thought, and flipped a middle finger at Simon, on which he merely shrugged at. You shook your head with a smile, and stepped away from them. “Well, I'll get going.”

“I'll say this again, be careful in there,” Soap reminded you and once again you stared at him and made him frown. “Got something more to say?”

With a swift hand, you pulled on the strap of his vest and planted your lips on the corner of his lips, his beard scratching your fragile skin. Your eyes flattered close whereas his were wide as saucers and just as fast as it happened, you let go and turned to the Lieutenant with a smirk. “Ghost, want one too?”

He raised a hand. “I'm good.”

“Okay,” you spun to your heels, “I'm all fired up.”

Soap clasped his hand over his mouth as he felt his face burn and crouched down, hanging his head low. Then, he brushed his thumb over his lips, still feeling your warmth and looked up at Ghost, before punching the Lt.’s shin with a wide grin.

“Fucking turkey—”

During your time with your father, he had taught you how to fool people, by appearing meek and inferior. People of pride, usually, find themselves lowering their guard to people who seem to keep their heads low. In an even better case, those people would turn to their backs. At the right time, that was when a strike would come.

During your time with the Ghosts, you learned almost the same thing. However, in their ways, they let the enemies come to them—lure them in, before planting their fangs on them. Like Vipers, hidden by nature, waiting for prey to come.

With both what you have been taught and what you have learned, one wouldn't simply think of a sheep going in a wolf’s den.

Except, in this game, you were a tiger in sheep's clothing.

You kneeled in front of the men, guarding the gate, your pants dirty from the rough texture of the concrete and dirt. You raised your arms and sighed as a sack was put over your head, constricting your vision. They snaked a rope around your wrists, binding them together, and hands held your arms right, dragging you up on your feet. Then, hands ran down on your body lingering a bit more than necessary to search for weapons, making you bite your lower lip in irritation and disgust until you tasted rust on your tongue.

Due to their guidance, you walked around the hideout, although technically blind at the moment, before you were shoved against a wall with a loud clang, which was most definitely steel based on the sound.

Then, the sack from your head was snatched, and a man in a gray mask, only revealing his eyes, came in your sight.

“Lass,” a familiar voice echoed behind the mask.

You frowned at him, then glanced around in an enclosed space, which seemed to be an elevator. “Colonel Vargas?”

No CCTV. Good for you, foolish of them.

“Si.” He nodded and put a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, tell them everything they want to know. Lie here, you die here,” he warned in a low voice.

You smirked. “Don’t kill me if I do.”

Then a bell chimed as the elevator ceased to move, and the doors opened from the middle, revealing a man in pink, no, peach, orange . . . brown? What was the goddamn word for the color again?! FUCK, BIEGE! Biege checkered shirt laughed at the sight of you. You took a quick glance at him from head to toe. Bald, mustache and beard, brown straps around his shoulders that held a firearm and a blade, a brown belt with a huge buckle, and faded denim pants.

He looked more like a cowboy than the Vaqueros, to be honest. And you were starting to hate a lot of bald guys.

“Esta su?” He scoffed, a grin playing mockingly on his lips.

(This her?)

Alejandro nodded, making his voice deeper as he answered, “Sí, señor.”

(Yes, sir.)

With a smile still on the man’s face, he asked, “You got a name, wench?”

Shit, I’m bad with names. You kept a straight face and in a calm voice, “. . . They call me Shampoo.”

The man burst out laughing upon hearing your answer, he held his bloated stomach as he guffawed taking his eyes off you for a moment, which Alejandro took as an opportunity to look at you with concern.

In the Colonel’s ears, Soap’s cackle and Graves’ ‘What the fuck?’ echoed. At the same time, the Shadows accompanying Graves on his helicopter, all looked at each other before they shook in laughter, bringing chaos to the comms.

You bit down on your lip till it bled, as to stop yourself from laughing as well. You took in a deep breath as El Sin Nombre’s man, calmed himself down.

“What kind of name is Shampoo, eh?” He snorted once again and turned around, waving a hand at you to follow him.

You stepped out of the elevator, leaving Alejandro behind. In silence, you walked behind the man, eyes scanning your surroundings: walls made out of stones and seemed to be a tunnel, leading to a basement or a dungeon, whatever they call it. He led the way around and constantly stopped from time to time, to lecture his men who were misbehaving.

By that, he meant doing illegal drugs and wasted with alcoholic drinks. The stench reminded you of parties and gatherings held by your father with his “friends”.

As you passed by, the men’s gazes lingered on you, licking their lips as you looked at your peripheral.

Then, the man halted before a door, which he pushed open and announced, “Valeria, there’s another one. A brave wench, this time.”

He stepped aside and shoved you inside the room. There were five people already occupying the place. Two were standing, and three were sitting on chairs, bound to them, and among those three, two had sacks over their heads—one unmoving, the other trying to gain back his freedom. The other one on the chair, however, just watched you step into the room. As for the other two who stood, one was a woman in a tank top and scarf, with her tattooed arms crossed.

You stared at her for a moment, before the man who had been standing next to her, pushed the dead man off the chair and pulled you to take the seat.

Valeria walked towards the man, which she called Diego in a calm voice, then a low laugh escaped her lips and without hesitation, she kicked the man, making him fall on his knees, while pointing a knife at his left eye. In Spanish, which you very much understood, she threatened him that if you didn’t give them good intel, Diego would be the one in your seat after you.

Sheesh, okay, slay, Queen, you thought. But if you were to say that out loud, you wouldn’t dare count the quantity of people who would want you buried six feet under. You kept silent as Valeria continued yelling at Diego, whereas the man begged for forgiveness until the woman sighed out loud and withdrew her knife.

She sauntered towards you and with a swift hand, she grabbed your jaw, squeezing your face. “If you tell a single lie, I’ll make sure your pretty little head will be sent back where you came from.” She let go of you, harshly, almost throwing back your head.

“Now, this simple.” she looked back and forth between you and the man sitting across you, sweat glistening on his forehead, fidgeting on his butt. “I ask questions, you two answer truthfully.”

And to every query she spoke, you answered with only the truth. The man on the opposite side, began to sweat profusely than ever before, his body shaking as his eyes snapped at you and Valeria repeatedly, because he knew—he knew, his lifeline was only a thread by now, and the one about to cut it was you, using Valeria.

Maybe, in his eyes you were the devil. Maybe, you weren’t any better than anyone in this room. But baby, this was the way you had always survived.

And at last, Valeria spoke the words you had been waiting for, the scissors to end the other man’s life. “Who were the outsiders helping the Mexican forces? Tell me about them.”

“American PMCs, called Shadow Company. Como prueba, consulte mi bolsillo,” you declared, and you watched Valeria walked towards you, eyes lingering for a moment before she reached into the pocket of your pants. With her fingers, she pulled out Shadow Army’s patch. “Shadow Company’s insignia.”

(For proof, check my pocket.)

She waved it at your face. “Por qué tienes esto?”

(Why do you have this?)

“Me veo obligado a formar parte de su compañía.”

(I am forced to be a part of his company.)

“Sabes español, eh? Dejarlo claro.”

(You know Spanish, eh? Make it clear.)

HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! FUCK YOU, PHILLIP FUCKING GRAVES!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! You screamed, set off fireworks, and danced to the music in your mind.

“As you can see, Ma’am, I have an ankle monitor on me.” You looked down at the noisy, beeping device around your leg, which the others gazed on as well. “I’m a criminal the Leader of Shadow Company, Phillip Graves had taken out of the prison to become his tool. His way of forcing me to do his bidding can be seen on my arms and legs, if that doesn’t satisfy you, you can look at my stomach.”

Valeria immediately rolled up your sleeves which revealed some of your scars, then the other side of your pants, and finally, lifted up your shirt, showing your abdomen, which had a bigger one. She let go of your shirt and stepped away from you.

But you fucking bet on your leg that he was absolutely malding, tweaking, and pulling on his hair by now.

“Ya veo.” She threw Diego the Shadow Company’s insignia and crossed her arms in front of you. “This Phillip Graves . . . what does he want?”

(I see.)

You gazed up at her. “The Iranian. I believe his name is Hassan Zyani.”

“No puedes confiar en ella!” the other man yelled, glaring at the back of Valeria, but quickly shut his mouth when she turned and motioned at Diego.

(You can't trust her!)

Diego, with a wide grin on his face, aimed a gun at the man’s head. As he begged for his life, a loud deafening noise drowned out his cries in your ears and blood splattered on the floor as the man’s writhing body was put to a stop.

Valeria faced you, pulled out a knife from her stash, and bent down to your level. “Buena chica.”

(Good girl.)

With a swipe, she cut off the ropes snaking around your wrists, and as she moved away, you dropped to your knees, head lowered. “I apologize for killing your men back in the mountains and helping the Los Vaqueros. I had no choice at that time,” you told her in a low tone. Through your lashes, you saw her staying before you, and so, you dared to continue. “But please, I beg of you,” you brought your head down even more, “help me get out of Phillip Graves’ shackles.”

She hummed, sounding satisfied with your words, then crouched before you. “And what will I get in return?”

You put a hand over your chest. “I will be anything you want me to be. I will be your soldier if you wish. I will be your informant if you wish.”

She grabbed your chin and made you look up to face her. “Go on.”

“I will gather the best intel you ask me to find—I will give you, serve you only the best.”

A smirk made its way on her lips. “I like you, cariño.” She let you go and watched you blink and bite your lips. “Oh, don’t just keep kneeling there. This is not how we treat a nice guest. We will be going upstairs.”

(—Dear)

You carefully stood up on your feet as Valeria and Diego stepped out of the room. You passed by the corpses, leaving a crimson trail behind when you stepped on the puddle of their blood. They led you back to the elevator and the three of you stepped in.

“I will be in the penthouse with El Sin Nombre,” Valeria announced, glancing back at you.

Bingo.

“El Sin Nombre?” you echoed in a small voice.

She faced you, with a brow arched. “Oh, you do not know him?”

“I have heard of him from Graves, he said he knows about the Iranian. But oh,” you clasped your hands, “please do not be offended, I didn’t come here to speak with El Sin Nombre. I am merely here to give you intel, and possibly bring down that fucking Phillip Graves.” You frowned down at your ankle monitor, then looked back up at her. “But, if El Sin Nombre is the boss, I will be willing to serve him, just as I promised you, Ma’am.”

“Oh, no se preocupe, cariño,” Valeria put a hand on your shoulder. “I have a great feeling El Sin Nombre will like you.”

(Do not worry, dear.)

“But for now, you shall be with the other guests,” she said, put her arm down, and stepped away from you as the elevator chimed, and the doors opened. She motioned at you to step out and you did, looking over your shoulders.

“Give her a mask, I don’t want other people to know my new treasure,” she commanded the guard waiting by the side of the elevator, which you immediately recognized, by the eyes, that he was Alejandro.

Alejandro handed you an extra gray balaclava, which you acted hesitant to put on, and so, you looked back at Valeria.

“Behave well.” She flashed you a smile as the elevator’s doors closed.

“Graves is pretty mad, I’m telling you,” Alejandro said in a hushed tone and handed you an earpiece, and a knife. “And you know Español, eh?”

“Eh, a bit, and suck it up, casket,” You scoffed, putting on the earpiece and the mask, which quickly put a grimace on your face as the moldy smell tickled your nose. “Gosh, this . . . this smells horrible.”

“Suck. It. Up. Witch,” Phillip’s voice echoed in your right ear, which almost made you snort.

“Soap to—pffft—Soap to—” The Sergeant wheezed, his cackling a piece of music to your ears. “Soap, Soap to ShampooohohoheehehahAHAHAHAAA!”

“He hasn’t stopped laughing since you said that,” Ghost fessed, and through his line, you could still hear Soap’s laughter. “and he wanted to call—BLOODY HELL, MACTAVISH, STOP HITTING ME!”

Next Chapter / Archive of Our Own

Taglist: @yyiikes , @the-faceless-bride , @cassiecasluciluce , @annoyingstrawberryballoon @unicorngirly1, @thriving-n-jiving, @squidalapobre, @tallicaside @eustassh

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kathlare · 16 hours ago

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sneaking glances

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: During a post-race debrief, Lando struggles to focus as a live stream of Amelie's final performance on the Eras Tour captures his attention. What begins as a secret moment quickly turns into an impromptu team viewing party, exposing his feelings to his colleagues in a humorous and heartwarming way.

Wordcount: 1.1 k

Warnings: just fluff

request over here!

March 9th, 2024 - Jeddah, Saudi Arabia

The post-race debrief felt like it had been dragging on for hours. Lando sat in the dimly lit McLaren meeting room, surrounded by engineers and strategists dissecting every second of his race in Saudi Arabia. P6 in qualifying had felt promising, but slipping down to P8 during the race was frustrating.

As the head engineer clicked through lap data on the screen, Lando leaned back in his chair, his leg bouncing restlessly under the table. His phone, strategically tucked in his hoodie pocket, vibrated softly—a notification from Instagram Live. His heart jumped.

He didn’t need to check to know what it was. Amelie’s last night opening for Taylor Swift on the Eras Tour was happening in Singapore.

Lando had known how much this tour meant to her, how thrilled she was to perform on some of the biggest stages in the world. And tonight was special—her final show. She’d been glowing over FaceTime earlier in the week, buzzing with both excitement and a tinge of sadness that it was coming to an end.

He shifted in his chair, pretending to adjust the waistband of his hoodie as he slid his phone out. Keeping it low and angled away from the team, he unlocked it with a swipe.

The live stream loaded almost immediately, and his chest tightened as Amelie’s voice filled his ears.

Her silhouette was bathed in soft purple light, the crowd roaring as she belted out the final notes of her song. She was dressed in a sparkling outfit that shimmered with every movement, her hair flowing as she twirled across the stage with her signature energy.

She looked breathtaking.

—Lando?— Andrea, his performance coach, nudged him gently, bringing him back to the room.

—Yeah, yeah, I’m listening,— Lando replied quickly, his eyes darting to the screen and back. He adjusted his posture, tapping on the table as if he were fully engaged in the conversation.

But his mind was anywhere but there.

Amelie laughed into the mic, her voice warm and effervescent as she addressed the crowd. —This is my last night opening for Taylor, and I just want to thank every single one of you for making this journey so unforgettable.— The audience erupted in cheers, and Lando couldn’t help but smile. She always knew how to command a room.

He angled the phone closer, careful not to make it obvious, but the subtle glow of the screen caught the attention of Oscar, who was seated beside him.

—What’s that?— Oscar whispered, leaning slightly over to peek.

Lando flinched, quickly tilting the screen away. —Nothing. Just checking... stuff.—

Oscar raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. —Is that… a concert?—

Lando sighed, realizing he wasn’t getting out of this one. He lowered his voice. —It’s Amelie. She’s performing in Singapore.—

Oscar’s eyes widened in recognition. —Wait, Amelie? Like, your Amelie?—

—Shut up,— Lando hissed, his cheeks flushing.

But it was too late. The exchange had drawn the attention of one of the engineers, who leaned over curiously. —What are you watching?—

Lando groaned, sinking lower into his chair as the small crowd around the table grew more intrigued. —It’s nothing, guys. Just focus on the debrief.—

Andrea’s sharp gaze narrowed. —Lando.—

—Fine!— he relented, holding up the phone. The live stream displayed Amelie mid-performance, her voice soaring through the room.

There was a beat of silence before someone muttered, —Damn, she’s good.—

One by one, the team leaned in, captivated. Even Andrea, who had been ready to scold Lando, seemed impressed.

—Isn’t she friends with you?— one of the engineers asked.

Lando shrugged, trying to play it cool. —Yeah. We’re... close.—

Oscar snorted. —Close? Mate, you’re grinning like an idiot. You’re in love.—

—Shut it, Piastri,— Lando muttered, but his smile betrayed him.

The debrief quickly devolved into a makeshift watch party. The engineers abandoned their laptops, the strategists leaned against the table, and even Zak Brown appeared in the doorway, raising an eyebrow at the scene.

—What’s going on here?— Zak asked, his tone amused.

Andrea gestured to the phone. —Lando’s watching his... friend’s concert.—

Zak crossed his arms, clearly entertained. —Friend, huh?—

Lando groaned, burying his face in his hands. —Can we just finish the meeting?—

But no one was listening anymore. Someone connected the phone to the meeting room’s projector, and within seconds, Amelie’s live stream was on the big screen.

She was mid-song, the crowd swaying to the rhythm as she poured her heart into every note. Lando couldn’t take his eyes off her, his chest swelling with pride.

—You know, you could’ve just told us you’re dating her,— Oscar said, nudging him playfully.

—We’re not...!— Lando started, but the room erupted in laughter.

Zak clapped a hand on his shoulder. —It’s okay, kid. We’re rooting for you.—

As Amelie finished her set with her traditional Nonsense outro, Lando’s phone buzzed again, a text from her.

Ames💛: You better not be ignoring your meeting to watch me.

He grinned, typing back quickly.

Lan🧡: Busted. The whole team’s watching now. You were incredible.

Her reply came almost instantly.

Ames💛: Told you you’d fall for me all over again ;)

Lando chuckled, shaking his head as he pocketed the phone.

—Alright, alright, back to work,— Zak called, though his tone was far from serious.

As the team reluctantly turned their attention back to the race debrief, Lando couldn’t help but feel a warmth settle in his chest.

Amelie had always been his biggest distraction—and his greatest joy. And as he glanced at the projector one last time, watching her blow a kiss to the crowd, he realized he wouldn’t have it any other way.

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mynicosensesaretingling · 24 days ago

Text

Mic Check: Feelings Engaged

A Bono x fem! (Y/N) reader story

Summary: When Bono’s radio mic goes haywire , (Y/N) offers her colleague a helping hand, leading to an unexpected moment of intimacy between the pair with the teasing comments from Lewis only adding fuel to the fire.

Warnings: None except it’s been written in my notes app

Notes: I wanted to write something for Bono for so long now , since he’s so incredibly dear to me. So now I just did- anyways I hope there aren’t any mistakes and that you enioy this little story x

—-

It’s a bustling Friday practice session at the track, and the air is filled with the familiar sounds of mechanics working, engines revving, and the steady hum of team radios crackling to life. Bono stands in the Mercedes garage, his eyes flicking over the various data streams on the monitors in front of him as Lewis sends feedback through the radio. There’s a calm professionalism to him, his headset settled snugly over his ears as he keeps his cool amidst the chaos of the session.

(Y/N), working a few stations over, is equally immersed in her role, running through telemetry data and keeping an eye on the numbers as they stream in. It’s her second full season working with the team, and although the work is often intense, the environment feels like home. Especially with Bono around. There’s something comforting about his expertise, his quiet focus—and maybe, though she’d never say it aloud, something undeniably attractive too.

Attentively watching the data presented to her , the buzzing noise of the track outside the garage slowly but surely becomes more of a background noise to (Y/N) —until she hears Bono curse softly under his breath. Looking over at the engineer, she finds him fiddling with the mic on his radio headset.

“I’m losing audio,” he mutters, mostly to himself, his fingers rapidly tapping at the small mic attached to his headset. The frustration is clear on his face. His eyebrows drawn together in a frown, as he tries to fix the issue without missing a beat in his ongoing strategy communications.

Without thinking much about it, (Y/N) walks over to the man, noticing his struggle. “Need a hand?”

Bono looks up, his brows slightly raising, surprised by her offer. “Yeah, I think the mic’s loose. Keeps cutting in and out,” he says, his voice lower than usual, the usual steady control in his tone replaced by just a hint of frustration. Stepping closer, (Y/N) notices the faint flush creeping up his neck as he tries to juggle the malfunction and his job.

“Let me take a look,” she says, voice gentle as she steps right in front of him. Bono’s eyes stay fixed on her for a moment before he gives a small nod, lowering his head slightly so she has easier access to the mic. It’s the simplest of gestures, but (Y/N)’s heart skips a beat—being this close to him, especially in the middle of the chaos of the garage, feels strangely intimate.

(Y/N)’s hands lift to adjust the mic, her fingers brushing his cheek ever so slightly, as she reattaches the microphone more securely. His skin is warm under her fingertips, and the moment she touches him, she notices the slightest inhale from Bono, though he stays incredibly still, as if he’s afraid to move.

The garage feels smaller now, the noise fading into the background as (Y/N) concentrates on the mic, trying to focus on the task but fully aware of how close she is to the race engineer. Every brush of her hand sends a spark of awareness through her body. Focusing on the task at hand she feels Bono’s eyes on her form, though he’s trying his best to keep it professional.

“Okay, try now,” (Y/N) murmurs, stepping back slightly to give him some space. Bono clears his throat, his hand reaching up to adjust the mic himself, fingers brushing where hers had just been. He’s back to business in an instant, but there’s an edge to his voice as he speaks into the mic.

“Lewis, do you copy? How’s the connection now?” Bono’s voice is steady, but the slightest tension remains in his shoulders as he waits for a response.

There’s a brief pause before Lewis’s voice crackles through the radio, loud and clear. “Yeah, I hear you loud and clear, Bono. Thought you’d left me hanging there for a minute,” Lewis teases, but before Bono can respond, Lewis’s voice returns, this time with a playful lilt. “Wait a minute… was that her fixing your mic? That surely sounded like her voice ,mate.”

Bono’s reaction is immediate—he lets out an exasperated sigh, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, but keeping her focus on him, (Y/N) can see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Lewis, focus on your out-lap,” Bono says, his voice firm but with a warmth that betrays his usual stoicism. Slightly shaking his head, he’s trying to suppress his embarrassment, but the smile that’s breaking through is impossible to miss.

“Oh, I’m focused,” Lewis replies, his tone mischievous. “Just thought I’d ask. Should I leave you two to it, or are we going to talk about strategy?”

Glancing back at (Y/N), Bono catches her eye for a brief moment, both of them sharing an amused, slightly embarrassed look. There’s a tension between the pair, but the humor in Lewis’s words manages to cut through it, making the moment feel lighter.

Bono lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head as he taps on the mic. “Yeah, let’s focus on the strategy. We’ll debrief later, Lewis.”

The radio crackles again as Lewis’s laughter comes through. “Sure, sure. But, just saying—‘bout time you two got close. We’ve all seen it coming.”

Bono’s face flushes at that, and he quickly turns back to the monitors, his fingers tapping at the keyboard, pretending to be fully immersed in his work. (Y/N), on the other hand,feels a mixture of embarrassment and… something else, as she walks back to her station. The way Lewis spoke, as if everyone had noticed the way her and Bono seem to gravitate toward each other, leaves the woman flustered. Was it really that obvious?

“Well, uh,” Bono calls , clearing his throat again, “thanks for fixing that. Shouldn’t have trouble now.”

(Y/N) nods, her heart still pounding as she tries to shake off Lewis’s teasing. “No problem,” she says through a slightly awkward chuckle. There’s still something hanging in the air between them, something unspoken.

Bono glances over at her once more before looking away, his lips pressing together like he’s holding something back. For a second, it feels like he might say something, but before he can, the team radio crackles again.

“Bono,” Lewis calls, his voice still carrying that teasing edge, “when’s the next date? Need me to clear the schedule?”

(Y/N) can’t help but laugh softly, shaking her head as Bono rolls his eyes. “You’re impossible, Lewis,” he mutters, though his voice is lighter now, the moment of tension dissolving into something more comfortable. He presses the radio switch again, sighing dramatically. “Focus on the driving, will you?”

Lewis just laughs in response, clearly pleased with himself, and Bono, despite his best efforts to maintain his usual professionalism, can’t help but let out a soft chuckle as well.

As the practice session winds down, the garage starts to return to its usual rhythm, but the brief moment of closeness between herself and Bono lingers in the back of (Y/N)’s mind. Every now and then, she catches him glancing in her direction, and when her eyes meet his, there’s a flicker of something unspoken—a spark that neither of the two can ignore.

And though nothing more is said between the pair, there’s an undeniable shift. (Y/N) can still feel the weight of his gaze, the soft smile that tugged at his lips, and the teasing words of Lewis echoing in the back of her mind.

Maybe Lewis was right—maybe it was about time.

#f1 fandom #f1blr #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #bono x reader #peter bonnington x reader

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unformula1 · 10 months ago

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best pop duo (CL16 x reader)

valentines day series

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

synopsis: charles and you win an award.

“What were you thinking up there, when you were holding the grammy?” A reporter asks.

“Well, other than ‘holy shit my boyfriend’s eyes are gorgeous’, then probably ‘holy shit this is actually happening’.” You respond, smiling as you do so.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

masterlist

word count: 777

valentines’ day countdown: -4

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And the best pop duo performance goes to…”

Nervousness washes over you. As much as you say you don’t care, winning this would mean the world to you. You tap your fingers on the table anxiously.

Charles’ places his hands over yours, and looks into your eyes. He gives you a reassuring smile as your fingers stop tapping so much. He holds your hand tightly which somehow makes you feel more confident.

“y/n l/n and Charles Leclerc!”

You scream and stand up. Charles stands up, but more calmly. Everyone at your table congratulates you and Charles, giving both of you pats on the back and handshakes. Tears flow out from your eyes as you walk onto stage, with Charles’ hand in yours.

Charles holds the grammy and passes it to you. You wipe your tears off, taking deep breaths before taking the grammy. Both of you stand in front of the mic.

“Holy shit.” You say, looking at the grammy. Charles places his hand over your shoulder, pulling you in.

It gives you a different sense of comfort. He kisses your cheek which makes the place explode into cheers and applause. You blush a little, hiding it with a chuckle.

Your gaze slowly moves from the grammy, to the crowd then finally into Charles’ eyes. They’re gorgeous. It really was something special for you, for him and for your relationship.

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

“What were you thinking up there, when you were holding the grammy?” A reporter asks.

You shift in your seat a little bit, thinking of how to phrase your answer before you pull the mic closer to you.

“Well, other than ‘holy shit my boyfriend’s eyes are gorgeous’, then probably ‘holy shit this is actually happening’.” You respond, smiling as you do so.

Your response earns a slight laugh from the crowd of interviewers.

“What was the process of writing with Charles Leclerc like?” Another asks.

“He should stick to racing.” You joke, laughing a little, “I’m kidding, don’t tell him I said that.”

You straighten up, “Well originally none of us ever thought we’d be doing this. It was pretty out of nowhere.” You reminisce of a few months ago.

You sit on the couch, notebook and pen in hand, scribbling down random words and phrases which come to your head. You click your pen a few times, leaning back onto the couch and looking up into the ceiling.

“Charles!” You shout, still looking into the ceiling

“Yes?” Charles says, poking his head into the living room.

“Come here.” You demand, but politely.

He obeys you and walks over, sitting next to you. He rests his head on your shoulder.

“Hm.” Charles makes an unintelligible noise.

“I just need you to sit there.” You say, still clicking your pen.

“Okay.” He says.

You stare at him for a few seconds, then write down a few words before clicking your pen again.

“Do you want me to play the piano?” He asks softly while you stare intently at your messy handwriting on the notebook.

You look up and your face lights up, “Yes! Yes please.”

He smiles, hops over the backrest of the couch and sits on the piano bench. You follow him. He moves to one side of the bench, patting the other side. You sit down there and he starts playing.

It’s your turn to rest your head on his shoulder as he plays the piano. It gives you some ideas which you do write down but after a while you sit up.

“You should write with me.” You blurt out.

“Write? I don’t really do that a lot, I’m not very good-” He replies, continuing to play the piano.

“Liar. You’re writing with me.” It’s not a request, it’s a demand.

Charles doesn’t protest, instead he continues playing the piano, nodding at your words.

“And here we are.” You chuckle.

“This song took a lot longer than it would usually take you. Is there a reason?” Another interviewer asks

“I left two verses out for Charles to write, and that was on period, I wasn’t changing that no matter what.” You respond.

“Are you glad you kept with that decision?” A follow up question pops up.

“Hell yea. I love what Charles wrote, no matter how long it took him.”

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

Charles: youre really that proud of me You: of course mon cheri Charles: sorry i took so long i wanted it to be as good as your words You: charles you wrote some amazing lyrics dont be disappointed in yourself Charles: i hope it was good You: if that wasnt obvious enough- Charles: i love you so much You: love you more.💋

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aoioozora · 5 months ago

Text

Mending Promises

Content: Keegan x F! Reader, Band AU, Civilian AU, second chances, exes to lovers, angst and fluff, happy ending Note: This idea has been marinating in my head for months now. I've never written an exes to lovers story before and I think I did quite well for my first attempt. Put my heart and soul into writing it. Enjoy :) [also why does K look so "🥺" in the gif]

The little puddles of rainwater on the cobbled streets squelched and splashed as you stepped over them. The dark night was clear and damp, filling the air with the light scent of petrichor, sizzling meats, and smoke which rose over the buildings and traffic into an incoherent yet delightful mixture. Flickering lamps passed by you as you walked, the puddles reflecting them.

Genevieve's. That was the place you stopped in front of. The red neon sign flickered and buzzed faintly as you pushed the worn bronze metal handle on the equally worn wooden door and stepped inside the establishment.

You were greeted by faint chatter of the dingy restaurant's patrons, all shrouded in dim darkness in contrast to the band up on the podium bathed in the yellow spotlight as they set up their mics on the stands and adjusted the drums. The lead singer stood out with the bright red Fender electric guitar hanging in front of him by the strap as he plugged the wire in. He raised his head for a moment, sweeping away his sweat-glistening black locks out of his eyes to scour through the dimly lit room as if in search of someone.

You felt an annoying tingle in your stomach as his eyes swept past you, unsure whether or not you were spotted by him. You sat at a table nearest to the door, just in case you wanted to run away from the performance midway. You took out your phone and opened a chat screen.

Keegan: I hope it isn't too much to ask you to see our performance. We may have fallen out, but your support is important to me.

And attached below was a digital flyer of the said performance that you were currently attending. It was sent a week ago, and you left him on read, one of the many messages and concert invitations you didn't want to reply to and didn't attend. Your eyes lingered on the second line of the message, and every single time you read it, it wrenched your heart and made your eyes burn with tears. And it did again as you raised your head to look at him, blinking your eyes rapidly.

Keegan's eyes softened with disappointment. There was nobody in this world he would play for if not you, and not seeing you there didn't make him standing in front of this small, faceless crowd worth it. Regardless, the little concert began.

He tapped the mic twice. "Testing, one, two, three," he spoke softly, and then began, "Good evening everyone, we're The Ghosts. We'll be singing our original songs and a few covers tonight. Enjoy."

The patrons in the restaurant gave the band their attention as he and his fellow bandmate, the lead guitarist, Logan, began to sing their indie rock song Claustrophobic together. Keegan's low, gruff, rumbling voice was singled out by you, and it was all you could hear.

The world's caving in without you, I can't breathe, I can't breathe.

You realised that this was one of their newest singles, as you hadn't heard it before. Resting your elbow on the table in front of you, your eye could see nobody but Keegan. You hated it, but you couldn't resist. Him standing in front of a small audience, head bent slightly over his red Fender, his black clothes, the lights shining over his glossy black hair, his foot tapping to keep time, it was all a familiar sight, but a distant one that you could only look at with sorrow.

Your reverie was interrupted by soft clapping from the audience as they ended their song. You felt a small hint of happiness that they were getting good reception. Even if you associated bad memories with their music, it was still good music. They began their next song, Penguins.

My love, you're all I see; I'll give you a rock When I get down on one knee, And forever in wedlock We will be.

A tight lump rose in your throat as you heard him sing those words from your favourite song. He'd croon the words in your ears at night to lull you to sleep in his arms, promising a future of togetherness, mates for life, just like penguins.

Only for it to all come crashing down.

A tear slipped down your cheek as you watched him sing the upbeat yet poignant song; his voice was full of emotion. He sang like he meant it, just like back then. The suppressed memories came flooding back to you as you stared at the floor with a distant gaze, of dancing with him in the living room, hearing his various renditions of the same song, even pretending to get down on one knee to make you giggle incessantly. But most of all, it was the look of utter adoration and awe in his normally dull steel blue eyes that sparkled like stars when he looked at you, like you were a goddess to him.

Why did it have to go all wrong?

You wiped away the stream of tears from your eyes and your cheeks, dabbing them with a handkerchief as you vainly sighed to get rid of the tightness in your chest.

And why, despite the months, did you feel like your love for him never diminished?

You listened to the next few songs distractedly. You couldn't help but wonder about the songs he chose; out of all the ones in their entire discography, he specifically chose the ones you loved, the songs that were most cherished, and held the most memories.

Your eyes fell upon the vacant ring finger of your right hand. There was a subtle indentation around the base of it, where a ring used to sit day in and day out. When you broke up with him, you took off that promise ring and threw it to the ground in front of him, and now your ring finger was forlorn, throbbing with a dull ache at the unpleasant memory you wished to banish from your thoughts.

"The last song for tonight is not our song, but our cover of Do I Wanna Know by Arctic Monkeys, which is our personal favourite. Enjoy."

His gruff voice pierced through the noisy recesses of your mind, bringing you back to the present. Was it the last song already? Time sure did fly when one was deep in thought.

And it was no unfamiliar song either. It was one you loved dearly.

The drums beat in time with your heart, and the famous riff of the guitar stunned the air into silence, leaving you to hear your pulsating heartbeat in your ears, reminding you why you loved this song so much. You heard him inhale, you saw him raise his eyes to scan the faceless crowd, and in his characteristic deep gruffness, he exhaled out his song,

Have you got colour in your cheeks?

You did now.

Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift the type That sticks around like summat in your teeth? Are there some aces up your sleeve? Have you no idea that you're in deep? His eyes looked searchingly, almost desperately around the room of the restaurant as he sang, I've dreamt about you nearly every night this week How many secrets can you keep? 'Cause there's this tune I found That makes me think of you somehow an' I play it on repeat Until I fall asleep, spillin' drinks on my settee

Almost as if he wanted you to know what he felt.

His fellow bandmate and guitarist, Logan, provided the backing vocals,

Do I wanna know?

And Keegan followed, still looking around,

If this feelin' flows both ways? Sad to see you go Was sorta hoping that you'd stay Baby, we both know That the nights were mainly made For sayin' things that you can't say tomorrow day

He took another deep breath, his fingers switching chords as quickly as his voice switched from sadness to desperation.

Crawling back to you

The guitar groaned over the amplifiers, filling you with a sense of anguish, like a rag being twisted. The rhythmic drumbeats forced the vision of Keegan approaching you in a slow, steady march, wanting, begging, groweling at your feet to play about in your mind's eye.

Ever thought of callin' when You've had a few? 'Cause I always do

Maybe I'm too Busy bein' yours To fall for somebody new Now I've thought it through Crawling back to you.

Those words hit you like a sack of bricks; they, along with the previous songs, only reinforced the fact that he still wanted you despite the falling away. A lump rose in your throat again.

He wanted you back, and so did you.

So have you got the guts?

He paused, allowing the drums to dictate the length of the silence for the space of four beats. He looked about searchingly again, trying to find you in the faceless crowd. In the dim, flickering light of an old jukebox next to your table, he spotted you. You raised your eyes and met his. A volcano of butterflies erupted in your stomach.

His eyes held yours fast as he sang,

Been wonderin' if your heart's still open And if so, I wanna know what time it shuts

He paused again for a quarter of a beat to let that sink in.

Simmer down an' pucker up, I'm sorry to interrupt

Those same pair of eyes narrowed slightly, momentarily averting his gaze towards his guitar, as if guiltily admitting, It's just I'm constantly on the cusp of tryin' to kiss you But I don't know if you feel the same as I do

He raised his head to meet your eyes again, a glint of hope evident in them despite the distance, But we could be together if you wanted to.

And there was the invitation.

You couldn't bear to stay there any longer. As he sang the bridge and the chorus, you stood up and hastily stepped out of the establishment, rubbing a stray tear off your cheek. Keegan saw it all. His chest seized. He nearly rose to his heels in readiness to run after you midway but he stopped himself, interpreting your departure as the rejection. But the tear he saw you wipe away; did he manage to get through your heart?

As soon as you were out of doors, you were hit by the rain. A fervent wind blew, splattering the heavy drops against you and the shade above your head that you took shelter under. No umbrella; the rain dead-ended you from leaving, and so you waited, holding yourself in your arms to keep warm, refusing to go back inside as his singing permeated the walls, tormenting you even over the noisy rain and howling wind.

The performance ended and the diners went back to chattering away while The Ghosts began to dismantle their equipment. While Keegan solemnly pulled off the strap of his guitar, his drummer, Hesh walked over to him.

"Did she come?" he asked in a whisper as he held Keegan by the shoulder.

"Saw her leave just now,"

Logan also joined in on the conversation as he unplugged the wire from his guitar. "And?" he asked, very obviously expecting something more.

"And what?"

"And are you just going to let her leave after this whole concert we planned just for her?" Logan rolled his eyes exasperatedly as he lectured Keegan, "Go and talk to her!"

Hesh turned to the windows of the establishment and saw the rain beating against the panes. He nudged Keegan. "It's raining pretty hard out there. She must not have left yet. Run!"

Keegan wasted no time in hurrying down the little podium, his heavy steps thudding against the hollow wood. He snatched his jacket and with quick, hasty steps and a rising hope in his chest, he opened the door, stepped out, and looked beside the door.

But you weren't there.

His shoulders sagged, his hand slipped from the worn door handle and fell to his side with disappointment. He was about to turn back inside when the sound of a quiet crunch of gravel under a boot on the asphalt not too far from him stopped him in his tracks. In the dim red light of the neon sign, he had to squint to see the shivering elbow sticking out from behind the wall. He inched closer and peeked into the narrow, dark alley, only to find what- or rather- who he was looking for.

You looked up when he poked his head in and felt your heart stop when you recognized who you were looking at. Both of your eyes widened.

"Wha- What are you doing here?" Keegan blurted, surprised but pleased to see you still around.

"You wanted me to come to your concert?" you said, raising a brow at him as you continued to shiver from the wind and rain.

"I mean, yeah, but..." he paused to take off his thickly lined leather jacket and draped it over your shoulders, "you're out here... in the cold. You could've just stayed inside."

You didn't object to his assistance and he had to hide the surprise from displaying on his face. While you thought of what to say, he nudged you aside with his shoulder, away from the elements and stood next to you by the wall to shield you. He waited in silence for an answer, but to no avail.

"I didn't think you'd come... especially after you left me on read," he began quietly, in a tone that carried no resentment, but sadness. He leaned against the wall and propping his foot up behind him as he crossed his arms.

You let out a sigh as you sunk your face into the fleece-lined collar of the jacket, taking in the familiar scent and feeling the familiar texture of leather and fleece against your arms and your cheeks. He'd always lend you his favourite jacket.

"I didn't want to come here, but I did anyway," you replied.

"You didn't have to force yourself." He shrugged and turned his head away from you to watch the rain pattering noisily on the sidewalk.

"I didn't. I was... kinda drawn here."

Drawn here, he thought, feeling a flutter. "What drew you here?"

A pause. "You."

His jaw laxed and his fingers twitched. His crossed arms loosened and his arm fell to his side, letting his knuckles lightly brush against yours. The brief contact sent a shock blitzing through your fingers, stiffening your hand for a moment. You inhaled sharply, feeling a vortex churning in your stomach; you didn't know you missed and craved his touch so much.

"It means a lot to me that you came," he whispered, letting his hand linger next to yours.

"Why?" A tremor shook your voice. He grimaced.

"I..." he exhaled, "I know I was an asshole to you. I put my band before you and neglected you. I made you sad..." he sighed, his features wincing, "to the point that you left. And I don't blame you for it."

Your throat tightened and burned like a fiery noose had been tied around it. Your thoughts took you back to the past months, remembering how the two of you argued over his preference to spend time making music with Hesh and Logan. Every day was an uphill battle, fighting a tight competition with his band, until you were spread way too thin that you snapped. He was furious when you left, but didn't stop you, calling it a "good riddance", words which left a deep scar that refused to heal.

He continued, "When I told Hesh and Logan you left and explained to them why, they were pissed. Logan was ready to throw hands at me. I was confused until Logan sat me down and told me that nobody and nothing comes before your partner." He shook his head, sighing again. "It was so obvious, but I missed it. I was so stupid!"

He paused his speech for a brief moment to let you have a say. Knowing that you needed time to let his words settle in, he pushed back against his impatience and stayed silent.

You knew Hesh and Logan only a little, but you didn't expect them to stick up for you and scold Keegan about his behaviour. And you had harboured such a boiling resentment for them too. That feeling now started to simmer down into shame and regret.

When he saw that you weren't saying anything, he decided to continue.

"I missed you," he confessed, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. "I hoped and prayed you'd come today and you came. You've never come to any of our little concerts after our breakup except for this one. Can I take this as a sign that…" he drew in a shaky breath, "can I be bold and assume that you miss me too?"

The metaphorical noose tightened around your neck, forcing tears to brim over your waterline. You choked out the words, "You have the audacity to miss me especially after saying "good riddance" when I broke up with you."

Keegan drew in a sharp breath as his brows furrowed. "I was stupid to say those words to you, stupid and blind. I didn't value you enough. I can't believe it had to take me Logan and Hesh to drill into my head the weight of what I had thrown away."

You heard the regret in his voice, but it didn't yet move you. A sob choked your throat. "I loved your music, Keegan, but when you started to love your band more, I hated it. I hated your band, you, your guitar, Hesh, Logan, and your songs… I hated it all."

Keegan felt his heart squeeze painfully at your sobs and complaints. He had no right to blame you for it. "I understand…" he spoke, letting out a slow exhale over the howling wind, "I know that me giving more attention to my band has given you a sour taste in your mouth for my music," his fingers brushed against yours and wrapped around your hand gently, "but this concert was just for you. I sang all your favourite songs tonight…" he gave your hand a squeeze, "because I love you."

You felt your heart skip a beat.

"I wrote those songs for you, I sing them for you…" his thumb gently rubbed against the back of your hand, "Even after you left, I couldn't stop thinking of you. I couldn't stop loving you."

He paused, giving you a chance to speak. In the brief silence, he noticed how you haven't pulled your hand out of his very gentle grasp when you easily could. He held on to this ray of hope that you were receptive to his words, though understandably hesitant.

"I know a lot of guys go back to their exes and beg them for another chance, but you know me, I've never done that to my exes. You're the only one I've come back to, and that's only because I genuinely feel like we're connected somehow… I can't explain it."

You understood what he meant. You felt the same way too. You weren't the type to look back once you ended a relationship, but when it came to Keegan, he never left your thoughts, which was why you remained rooted in place, letting him hold your hand.

"I want you back, ____," he finally said, "I'm sorry for not valuing you like I should have. This entire concert was my apology for you. I know this is too much to ask for. I know I've broken your trust and hurt you, but I want to correct that mistake and make amends." He paused, "Once chance is all I need. I'll do whatever it takes."

You sniffled, feeling the first tear roll down your cheek, your body trembling as you frantically tried to wipe the stream away. Keegan's heart wrenched at the sight; he took a bold step in wrapping you in his arms and bringing you against his chest. He breathed heavily, wondering if you would push him away, but to his surprise, you leaned into his embrace.

"Why was it a good riddance when I left?" you squeaked out against his chest.

His chest twinged painfully when you brought it up again, now understanding how deeply those words had hurt you. "I was crazy," he said, chastising himself, "I was stupid and blinded by my anger. I thought you didn't understand my love for music and my band, but I was the one who didn't understand what you needed. It never was a good riddance, darling. I missed you every second you were not in my life." He squeezed you gently, both to comfort you, and for him to cling to you.

Your sobs grew louder; you were both pained and relieved at the same time.

"You're an angel… and I don't deserve you," he murmured, feeling a sob choke his own throat, "I know I'm being selfish but I love you… I want you back."

You let out a weary groan as you leaned further against him. His arms instinctively tightened around you.

"I'm sorry…" you said, raising your hands a little to clutch his t-shirt, "For throwing the ring at you that day."

He hugged you tighter. "I forgive you," he whispered immediately, feeling lighter and relieved that you apologised for your own crime, one that had hurt him.

You squeezed him, and he soothingly rubbed his hand against your back, enjoying the warmth that he missed dearly. But he pulled away slightly and shoved his hand in his pocket, bringing out a small, silver ring.

Your eyes widened slightly. It was the promise ring he had given you. You looked at him, eyes welling with tears again. "You still have it," you murmured shakily.

He looked at the dainty piece of jewelry and sighed, smiling a hint. "I was so mad at you that day that I threw it in the trash, but when I calmed down, I dug it back out and cleaned it up. I kept it because it reminded me of you…" his voice trailed off and then gingerly extended his hand out to you.

You placed your hand in his gently. At the contact, his body flushed with warmth.

With a shaky breath and voice, he said, looping the ring through your ring finger, as tears slipped down his cheeks, "I promise I'll love you more than anything in this world, even myself."

You sniffled and sobbed as you saw the ring fit right in the indentation on your finger like two jigsaw puzzle pieces fit together, the familiar sight of it sending waves of warmth in your heart. Keegan watched your emotional reaction, and he pulled you in his arms again to comfort you.

"I love you, ____. I'll make it up to you a hundred times over..." he stroked your hair softly, voice brimming over with determination and affection.

You buried your face in his chest, his words wrenching more tears out of your eyes. "Do you promise?"

"Wholeheartedly, I promise."

---

More Keegan:

Attracted

Cat Got Your Tongue

---

Masterlist

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bettysupremacy · 11 months ago

Note

could you write something about drummer!james or bassist!remus? I’m spiraling about them…

for example one of them teaching reader how to play their instrument omg or performing and seeing r and forget their cue and the other band members are like??? I love your characterization so much!!

thank you!! I’ll never turn my nose up at rockstar! marauders

“Faster.” James mumbles, concentrated on the encouraging pressure of his fingertips into your wrist. “Yeah, you’re doing it!”

You sit on the tiny chair with him, back pressed firmly into his chest. He’s warm and broad, letting the expanse of his arms engulf around you and connect around your wrists. Faster and faster the vibrations of the drums bounce around the empty stage and arena as he helps you create a sound melody.

“You did it, baby!” He laughs, slowing to a stop and smooshing a kiss into your cheek squarely.

“Doesn’t that hurt your wrist?” You question, peering up at him. Your wrist aches.

He shrugs it off. “It used to, sure, but now I’m used to it.”

“D’you hear that, Rem?” Sirius chokes a laugh. “He’s ‘used to it.’”

James scoffs. “Oh, bugger off.”

The boys roll their eyes, trying to mind their own the best they can. You can tell Remus wants to say something, to quip towards Sirius, but they hold strong. It’s silly watching them force their eyes away from the sight that is you and James. The air has stilted and you shuffle in his arms.

“I think it’s cool.” You shrug quietly.

James beams, his shiny smile contagious. “Well if you,” his fingers tickle your sides. “think it’s cool, then I might as well not worry.”

“Why would you worry?”

“I want you to think I’m cool.”

“Do you?”

“Um,” he scoffs. “yeah, duh.” He says it like it’s obvious.

You smile. “Duh.”

“I’d quite like you to think I’m cool.”

It makes you giggle. The look on his face. Sitting in a wide arena, equipped to the thousands with empty chairs that’ll be filled with wild adoring fans in an hour, he wants your approval. He wants you to think he’s cool. It’s so preposterous it brings a smile to your face. He’s walks with a swagger, talks with an undertone that can only be classified as raw kindness. But strip him down and it’s just a boy. A boy who wants approval, and from you no less.

“What?” He laughs.

“I wanna be you when I grow up.”

“That’s a new one.”

You laugh, leaning into the expanse of his chest. “Or maybe morph into you.”

He squeezes you at the morbid thought. Like if he’s hard enough he can grant you your wish. Secretly, he wishes it too. “Not close enough.”

You agree, wrapping your arms around him selfishly to steal some time when you know he should be rehearsing. He’s so warm like this, and soft. Strong and built, but comfy to embrace. You could stay like this forever.

“Get a room.” Sirius drawls, tapping his mic.

Remus adjusts the strap of his bass. He doesn’t feel strongly about the situation at hand, but he supports Sirius anyhow. “This is a new low.”

James doesn’t seem perturbed. “You guys are so jealous.”

“Do you guys want hugs too?” You ask, peering up at the standing musicians.

“Um, yes?”

Sirius jogs over, pulling you up from the warmth of James and into his. His hug is more possessive, and you suspect he’s making a sort of face at James behind you. Softly, you bring your hand up into his hair to pet him and pants like a dog, mimicking their labored breathing.

“Good puppy.” You laugh.

“Smells like one too.” James jabs.

You’re pulled from Sirius to Remus swiftly. He picks you up off your feet and you wrap your arms around his neck securely, your giggles startled.

“Okay,” James moans annoyedly. “This is my girlfriend.”

“And she has things to do.” Comes Lily from the curtains. She stands impatiently, clipboard on her hip.

You peak up from Remus’ neck to Lily, ignoring exasperated James behind you. “You need a hug too, Lil’s?”

“No.” Though she bites a smile back.

“Oh, come here.” You pull from Remus to jog over and bind her in a tight hug. She laughs, hugging you back as best she can with one arm. Kissing her cheek quickly, you turn to James. Blindingly bright with your smile. “I’ll be in the audience tonight.”

“I don’t get a goodbye kiss? No good luck kiss or quick snog?”

You run over, sliding your hands over your boys cheeks like puzzle pieces. Bending down, you murmur about forgetting something before kissing him. He grips the fat of your hip as you bend to his lips, molding it into his large hands. It’s nowhere near chaste, but it’s still not enough for the love stricken boy. He pulls you closer, attempting to deepen the kiss.

You pull back breathlessly, guiltily. “See you tonight.”

He sighs, loosening his grip. “I’ll find you in the crowd, superstar.”

You beam at the name. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” James frowns.

“Jeez-us!” Sirius claps his hands. “The woman as things to do!”

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heeaddict · 11 months ago

Text

good girl - LHS

fem!reader x gamer!heeseung

!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!

WARNINGS: smut/nsfw, finger sucking, trying not to get caught, blowjob, unprotected sex, cockwarming, trying to be quiet, cursing, teasing.

“Heeseungg~”, you whined from your boyfriend’s bed. He had asked you over and was just playing games with his friends, Sunghoon, Jay and Jake.

He gave you back a little hum, focusing more on his game, than you calling him. You huffed loudly, and stood up from the bed. You slowly walked behind his gaming chair, and wrapped your arms around his upper body as well as you could, despite the chair. A small smile formed on Heeseung’s lips, other hand softly patting your own.

Again, you had waited for more. You started peppering kisses on his cheek, which made him giggle quietly.

“What are you laughing at, man?” You heard Jake’s voice trough Heeseung’s headphones. “Ah, it’s nothing”, he smiled, but you didn’t like his answer.

“What do you mean, nothing, Hee?” You asked, moving his hands away. You could hear the boys cooing for Heeseung. You rolled your eyes in annoyance, and walked away. You were so upset with him, for not giving you attention at all.

“Aish...” He muttered under his breath, “baby?” You didn’t answer. You decided to ignore him just like he had ignored you. “Honey~” He sang with a sweet voice, sending butterflies to your stomach, but you tried to ignore them, you were mad at him, remember?

Loud fake gagging could be heard through his headphones, and Heeseung rolled his eyes. “Shut the fuck up...” He muttered before muting his mic. He stopped playing the game for a while, turning his chair on your way.

You were laying on your stomach, hugging one of Heeseung’s pillows. The position you were in, brought up your ass, and without even realizing, Heeseung was already staring.

He shook his head to clear his mind and called you over again. “My love... Come here, hm? I’m sorry for ignoring you”, he sang, and tapped his lap. “Would you like to sit here and watch me play?”

You stayed quiet.

“Hm.. I guess I’ll have to ignore you again then”, he smirked, turning away from you. “Nooo~” You whined weakly. He smiled as you crawled out of his bed, and slowly approached him. “Aw, you’re so fucking cute” You blushed deeply at his words, and just buried yourself in his arms. This time, he started a circular motion on your back, petting you for a while. Then he heard Jay’s scream for him to come back and save them, and he continued playing.

You stared at his hands hungrily. The veins popping out were so sexy, and when he had to move his fingers on the keyboard- fuck!

You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter every second, by just staring at his hands.

fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

Heeseung noticed you acting strange, and asked what’s wrong. Then he noticed the staring, and smirked. That’s when he started to flex his muscles to pop out the veins even more, just to tease you.

You accidentally let out a soft whimper, and your mouth being just beside the mic of Heeseung’s headphones, the guys heard it loud and clear.

“Yo man what the fuck!?” “Bro getting some!”

Heeseung hurriedly turned the mic off, and stared at you. “I- I’m really sorry, I know should be quiet, I couldn’t help it! Y- Your ha- hands- they- they-” You stuttered weakly, but Heeseung silenced you with a kiss. As he pulled away, you pulled him back in. His tongue automatically started a journey in your mouth, as you let out more whimpers and soft moans.

When you finally let him pull away, a string of saliva connected your lips. He gave you one more peck before speaking.

“Okay baby, here’s the rules. You can do whatever you want with me, just be quiet. I don’t want the guys to hear you. Understood, love?” You nodded rapidly. “Okay, let’s start.” He got back to his game and unmuted the mic, as you went to attack his neck with kisses and love bites. The feeling of you soft and warm tongue on his sensitive neck felt so good, it was more hard for him to keep the noises from coming out.

Then you noticed his other hand was free at the moment and grabbed it. Heeseung understood the assignment, and stuck out two fingers seprate from the others. You immediately took the in your mouth, and started to suck on them.

Heeseung could only feel you tongue on his fingers kitty licking them, and imagine the sounds that you would let out if you two were completely alone.

He closed his eyes for a second, as he enjoyed the touch of your tongue. He could feel a boner starting to make its way to his pants, and sighed quietly.

As he continued playing, you freed his fingers from your mouth, and lowered down to the floor in front of Heeseung. You aligned yourself between his legs, tying your hair up fastly. Heeseung licked the saliva off his fingers, and looked down. You were now playing with the strings of his sweatpants, and pressing sofly on his growing boner. He had to swallow the sounds from coming out of his mouth, and tried to focus more on the game.

You slowly pulled down the sweatpants, along with his boxers. You pumped on his cock a few times, just admiring his huge size. Then you slowly swirled your tongue on his tip, and Heeseung's mouth dropped open from pleasure.

“Heeseung, man? Are you afk?”

Jake’s voice ringed his ears as he tried not to moan. He cleared his throat, and answered. “N-nah man I just zoned out for a bit- “ His sentence got cut off by you humming quietly against his dick, sending vibrations to his whole body, and him inhailing a bit too sharply. Jake chuckled. “Sure bro, whatever you say”

You bobbed your head on his dick until you started to taste the salty cum which was slowly dripping out of his cock. That’s when you puloed off of him, and climbed back on top of him. You slowly slided your mini-shorts on your knees, which left you with your panties.

Heeseung couldn’t help but stare, biting his plump bottom lip.He slowly creeped his hand towards your bottom, and slipped it in your panties, eyes flickering as he felt how wet you were. You felt a blush creep in your face as he moved his fingers a bit. Then you remembered, he had said for you to do anything you want with him, so you decided to take care of yourself this time. You grabbed his hand and brought it up to his mouth. Heeseung smirked, looking at you. You tilted your head with a smile, and mouthed, ‘lick’.

Withput hesitation, Heeseung stuck his tongue out, and licked your pre-cum off his fingers. After that, he just casually continued the game.

Fuck, that was hot.

You both thought to yourselves.

You started to slowly remove your undies, and positioning yourself on Heeseung. You grip on the fabric of his t-shirt as you push down on him and he automatically takes a protective hold of your waist. You grip on his chest as he hisses quietly. You try to breath slowly, but its becoming very hard, so you try to gesture for Heeseung to mute his mic. He fourtunately gets it, and hurriedly mutes his mic.

As soon as you hear the pling soumg of his mic muting, you exhale agressively.

“H- heeseungie, I don’t think I can keep quiet- ah~” You moaned, as he bottomed out.

“It’s alright, love, I’ll keep it muted.” He reassured, and helped you move with his hand on your hip. He continued gaming with one hand, and you moved on his dick. Once it didn’t hurt anymore, you increased in speed, jumping on his dick now. The sounds coming out of you were making Heeseung harder and harder, and he was throbbing inside of you. You both were close.

“Good girl, just like that..” Heeseung exhaled, making you whimper. You pressed your head on his shoulder, breathing hotly against his neck.

“You think you can be quiet if i turn the mic back on?”

He asked after hearing the boys yell for him to turn the mic on. You hesitated but nodded, biting down on your bottom lip, moving even quicker. “Alright, he let out a small groand before taking a deep breath and turning the mic on.

“Finally, bro! What are you doing?” You heard Jay ask. Heeseung cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. “Sorry, I was talking to y/n” He said with a shaky voice, which made all the boys laugh. “Oh yeah, sure, talking” Sunghoon laughed, making a fake gulping sound after. “Shut up-” Heeseung yelled, but left the last word short because he could feel his high coming, and he inhaled sharply.

He moved the mic away from his mout, and whispered to your ear. “D’you wanna let everyone know who you belong to? D’you wanna let them know how good I make you feel?” He asked with a deep quiet voice, making you moan out loud, which made Heeseung cum inside you with a deep groan. He soothed your waist, while you came too. “Good girl” He whispered and kissed your head, which was still against his shoulder.

You could hear loud yelling from his headphones, like “YO MAN WHAT THE FUCK!?” “Did we just witness you and y/n fucking!?” and fake gagging, but all Heeseung replied with was a laugh, and a “I do not even know what you all are talking about”

His hand rested on your hip, as you just sat on his soft cock, just enjoying the feeling on being full. The cum dripping out of your pussy was the only uncomfortable thing in that situation. You cockwarmed him for the rest of the game, almost falling asleep in his arms, as the hand had left your hip and moved to your hair, playing with it. Then you heard loud yelling coming from your boyfriends headphones, and he yelled “YO WE DID IT!!”

You waited patiently as he quit the game and said goodbye to his friends. He then placed his hands on your waist, and helped you pull off of his soft dick with a small wince. “You did so good, love” You smiled sleepily, and whispered, “I love you, Lee..” He chuckled, carrying you to the shower now. “I love you, l/n”

#heeseung smut #heeseung #heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts #hee hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen #lee heeseung #ethan lee #enhypen heeseung

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