#Convergent Charging

[paradife-loft]

started using Written? Kitten! again to drag myself over the motivation line of finishing this (second-to-) last paper for this quarter, which has been working pretty well..... except the kitten that just popped up is so charmingly photogenic and precious that I'm getting distracted staring at the kitten photo instead of writing :')

(kitten source for the curious: flickr.com/photos/56461021@N00/50586164307)

[nhlclover]

HANDS TO MYSELF QUINN HUGHES

pairing: fem!reader x quinn hughes

summary: after weeks of clashing schedules, yours and quinns calendars finally align for a much-desired date night.

warnings: veerrryyy sexually charged (but no smut), quinn and reader are very much in love, quinn being a lil bit horny, makeout

wc: 2.45k

notes: came so close to writing smut for this fic but i didn't think it would be good. also here is the dress i'm describing if you care!

In a serendipitous alignment of your overfilled schedules, the night finally arrives. Weeks of clashing obligations, games, appointments, practices, and disappointments converge to clear a single slot in time, and Quinn, ever the romantic planner, had spent the entire day coordinating for it. He’d spun a few webs to secure a table at Riley’s, a restaurant that you knew had been booked solid for months. The restaurant itself was peak elegance, serving high-end food with the best of service.

You pulled the black, satin dress that hung in its garment bag out from the back of your closet. It was a dress that had been waiting, forgotten but pristine, for an evening like this. You stepped into the dress, pulling the zipper, but realizing that the button at the top would need the aid of Quinn. Your makeup was done, hair pulled up into a messy, but planned bun on the top of your head. You check your reflection, every detail scrutinized until it's perfect. In the low-lit glow of your vanity mirror, you look radiant, a piece of art made alive.

When you’re finally ready, you drift into the living room where Quinn is waiting. He rises at your entrance, and the room seems to shrink around you. His silence feels louder than any compliment. His eyes take you in, from the cut-outs at your waist to the way the fabric hugs and accentuates the curves of your body perfectly.

Then, as if he can no longer contain it, he utters, “You look… I can’t believe how stunning you are.” His voice is reverent as if you were something divine and beautiful he had stumbled upon.

“Thank you, baby,” you say softly. You take him in as well, the chocolate-colored suit tailored to fit him perfectly, the white dress shirt unbuttoned slightly to show off the curves of his chest. “Can you help me do up the button?”

You turn around, exposing the deep, plunging back to Quinn. When he catches sight of your exposed back, you swear you hear him let out a whimper. His calloused fingers brush against your back, attaching the button. The sensation of his lips pressing a light kiss to the back of your neck sends goosebumps all over.

“All done,” he says in a breathy voice.

As you turn to face him, your heart skips a beat, taking in the intensity in his eyes. There’s a simmering hunger in his gaze like he's seeing you in an entirely new light and savoring every inch of the view. For a moment, his fingertips linger on your bare shoulder, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your skin. He’s close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him, and the subtle scent of his cologne fills the air around you. The magnetism between you is undeniable, making it easy to get lost in the moment.

Quinn’s eyes drift from yours to your plump, gloss-covered lips, then back up to meet your gaze, smoldering and almost pleading. You feel the tension between you both rise, quiet electricity sparking in the space between your bodies, drawing you closer. He leans in, lips barely grazing your ear, his breath hot as he murmurs, “You sure we have to go to dinner?”

The way he says it makes your heart race, a low hum of excitement settling in your stomach. He’s looking at you as though dinner could wait, as though the evening he planned so meticulously is suddenly the furthest thing from his mind. You manage a playful smile, resting your hands on his chest and pressing back ever so slightly to keep a sliver of space between you.

“Quinn,” you whisper, forcing a bit of composure back into your voice. “I don’t even want to know what you had to do to get a reservation at Riley’s. And if we don’t leave now, we’re going to miss our reservation.”

He lets out a soft groan, but a smile tugs at his lips. “Fine, but only because I’ve waited long enough for this night.” His hands slowly fall from your shoulders, lingering a moment longer than they need to. He takes a step back, slipping one hand into yours, as if reluctant to let you out of his grasp even for a second.

Hand in hand, you head to the car, the cool evening air a gentle contrast to the warm intimacy that still lingers from Quinn’s touch. He opens the passenger door for you, his eyes never leaving you as you slide into the seat. He closes the door softly, circling around to the driver's side.

Once he’s settled in and starts the car, his hand immediately finds yours, fingers interlocking as he gives you a quick, admiring glance. You feel his eyes linger, that same look of reverence and wonder as he takes in the sight of you beside him.

“Eyes on the road, Mr. Romantic,” you tease gently, squeezing his hand.

He laughs, but there’s a slight flush on his cheeks. “It’s a little hard to focus when you look like that,” he admits. “That dress was practically designed to distract me.”

You shake your head, though you can’t deny how his words send a thrill through you. He’s still sneaking glances, unable to help himself, his fingers gently tracing circles on the back of your hand as he drives.

As you arrive at Riley’s, you’re greeted with the soft glow of candlelight spilling from the windows, the gentle hum of jazz drifting into the night air. The restaurant is elegant in a timeless way, with dim lighting and warm wooden accents that create an intimate, welcoming atmosphere. Quinn helps you out of the car, his hand finding the small of your back as he guides you through the grand entrance, where the maître d’ greets you with a polite nod.

“Right this way, Mr. Hughes,” she says with a warm smile, as though she too knows how special this night is. You’re led to a private corner booth tucked away from the rest of the tables. A single candle rests in the center, casting a warm glow across the table.

Quinn pulls your chair out for you, his hand grazing your shoulder as you sit. His gaze never leaves yours as he settles across from you, his expression one of barely contained awe. “I wasn’t exaggerating before,” he says softly, leaning in. “You look absolutely breathtaking.”

You feel your cheeks heat under his intense gaze, and you find yourself smiling, eyes twinkling as you return the compliment. “And you look incredible too, Quinn. That suit… I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so good.”

A waiter approaches, and Quinn orders a bottle of wine, one you remember J.T. Miller suggesting the two of you try if you’re willing to shell out a bit of money on a bottle. As the bottle arrives and the wine is poured, Quinn raises his glass to you, his eyes catching the candlelight.

“To you,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm.

“To us,” you correct. You clink glasses, each sip bringing a pleasant buzz that only heightens the already electrifying atmosphere.

For a while, your conversation is playful and light. You talk about little things — reminiscing over memories that make you laugh, filling in each other on anecdotes that got lost in your busy lives. Quinn leans in, his attention unwavering, absorbing every word with a soft, amused grin. Every facet of him is distracting to you - the way his fingers play with the stem of his wine glass, how he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth when he listens so intently to you telling a story, and the unmissable gleam in his eye when he looks at you.

You each glance half-heartedly at the menu, but quickly abandon it, unable to tear your focus away from each other. The conversation flows with a surprising ease, touching on topics deep and trivial. He confides how strange it felt to find the perfect suit, mentioning how he asked Jack if it was too much. You smile, knowing how important tonight must be for him to fuss over something like that.

“I can't tell you how good it feels to finally be here with you. It’s been a rough couple of weeks.” His expression shifts, his normally relaxed face showing traces of the stress that he’s been carrying.

“I know,” you say, reaching across the table to place your hand over his. “It feels like every time we tried to plan something, something would get in the way. Between your games, my projects…”

He lets out a long breath and gives a slight nod. “Yeah, it’s just been so much with the season, and all I’ve wanted is a night like this. Just you and me.” His eyes soften, and you feel his hand give yours a soft squeeze, grounding both of you at this moment. “Games have been intense lately. And I love it, but… I miss you,” he confesses, his voice almost whispering.

Your heart swells at his honesty. You can see the weariness in him, but there's also a kind of vulnerable tenderness in the way he’s looking at you now. “I miss you, too. But I’m really proud of you, Quinn. I see how much you put into it.”

He smiles, his gaze dropping to your lips for a moment before flicking back up to your eyes, his expression soft yet intent. “That means a lot to me, more than you know.” He leans in just slightly, a private, mischievous grin slipping onto his face. “But honestly, right now? All I want is to be with you. Just us.”

“Well,” you reply, leaning closer to Quinn. “Here we are. Just the two of us.”

His thumb traces slow, deliberate circles on your wrist, sending sparks up your arm. “Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice low and earnest. “Exactly where I want to be.” His eyes drop to the faint glow of the candlelight on your face, and he seems to lose himself in the view.

But the tender moment is interrupted as the waiter returns to take your orders. Reluctantly, Quinn tears his gaze from you, giving his order in a tone that is a bit rushed. You can’t help but smile at his eagerness as you place your own order, stealing glances at him. The waiter leaves, and a comfortable silence settles over you both, the soft jazz music a fitting backdrop to the intimacy between you.

Quinn leans forward, elbows on the table, his fingers interlaced as he studies you again. “I know we’ve been waiting for a night out for forever but…” His voice dips into a quiet murmur, like he’s sharing a secret, “If you told me we could just go home right now, I wouldn’t even blink.”

You laugh, shaking your head slightly, but there’s a warm blush in your cheeks at his words. “Quinn Hughes, you’re telling me you’re willing to give up the table that you pulled some serious strings to get, all because you don’t know if you can keep it in your pants?”

“Yes, exactly that,” he says without missing a beat, his expression growing serious. “Do you know how hard it is to just sit here with you in that dress and keep my hands to myself?”

The boldness in his voice takes you by surprise, and it sends a thrill through you. His words are a reminder of the magnetic pull between you, one that hasn’t faded since the beginning of your relationship. A playful smirk tugs at the corner of your lips. “You know,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, “I’d almost believe you didn’t want this night as much as I did.”

Quinn reaches across the table, capturing your hand in his as his thumb glides over your skin, the touch featherlight yet stirring. “Trust me,” he murmurs, voice thick with sincerity, “I want tonight. Every part of it. But right now, it’s taking everything I have not to pull you out of here and make you mine before our food gets here.”

Your breath catches at the intensity in his voice, the raw honesty in his words unraveling you. The ambiance of the restaurant fades into the background; it’s as if the two of you are in a world of your own, insulated by shared desire and the gravity of this long-awaited moment.

You lean forward, your eyes locked onto his with equal fervor. “I guess we could always… take the food to go,” you whisper, testing the waters.

A glimmer of excitement flashes in his gaze. “Are you serious?” he asks, barely able to keep his voice steady, as though the thought alone is almost too good to believe.

Your fingers trace slow patterns over the top of his hand. “Quinn, this night is already perfect… you went above and beyond to make it perfect. But, truth be told, we could’ve just ordered Chinese food and I would have been just as happy. I just want to be with you”

Quinn signals for the waitress, quickly requesting the check and your ordered meals in boxes with a smoothness that belies the fire simmering beneath his calm exterior. He leans over and gives her a charming but hurried excuse about needing to leave for a family matter, handing over his card before she can even respond. The minutes it takes to process feel like an eternity, but Quinn’s hand rests over yours, grounding you in the electric silence shared between you.

Finally, the waitress returns, and he leaves a generous tip before helping you to your feet. You weave through the restaurant together, stealing glances and half-hidden smiles, every step charged with anticipation.

Outside, the city air hits cool and refreshing, but the chill is quickly forgotten as Quinn’s hand finds its familiar place on your thigh once you’re seated in the car. His fingers trail subtle, teasing patterns that have your pulse racing, yet he maintains a sense of composure, his gaze focused forward as he drives the short distance back to your place. You both sense the unspoken thrill of getting back as quickly as possible, yet his hand remains on you, tethering you to the rising tension.

When he finally pulls into the driveway, neither of you wastes a moment. The world outside becomes a blur as you make your way up the steps to the front door, his lips already brushing against your neck as you struggle with the key. By the time you stumble through the door, his mouth finds yours, and the soft click of the door closing behind you is drowned out by the rush of your heartbeat.

[girlsloveupdates]

GL airing in 2025 (so far)

Only You (original plot)

The series mixes action and adventure, with Tawan, a bodyguard in charge of protecting Ira. The romance between them grows amid threats and dangerous situations, creating a plot full of action and emotion. (summarised by @lesbicine)

Watch the official teaser here.

The Dragon House (novel adapted)

The Dragon House tells the story of Fei Long, heiress to the feared Dragon Fire Gang, who needs to form an alliance with Wang Li Ming, the successor of the Jade Lion Gang. Together, the two face rivalries and tensions, and the chemistry between them promises to heat up the plot. (summarised by @lesbicine)

Watch the official teaser here.

Buy My Boss (novel adapted)

Recent graduate Manfan is facing numerous problems: her family's bankrupt; she's been dumped; everything's gone downhill, dragged down to the abyss. Wanting nothing more than some release, she hires an enchanting escort named Araya who reassures her that good things are coming. Who would have thought that later, when she takes on an important job, would she meet her boss Issara, and would come to learn that Araya and Issara are one and the same?

Watch the official teaser here.

Us (novel adapted)

Dokrak decides to take a gap year to find herself after finishing high school. She has a part-time job at a coworking space coffee shop. It's here that she crosses paths with dentistry student Pam who’s a regular at the café to hit the books. As she gets to know Pam, Dokrak develops a crush. When her brother, however, meets Pam, he falls for her at first sight. Kawi turns to Dokrak, asking her to play matchmaker. Because she loves him and wants to see him happy, Dokrak begins coaching him. As time goes on, however, she finds herself unable to ignore her growing feelings for Pam. Before she knows it, she's fully in love and Pam is Kawi's girlfriend.

Watch the official teaser here.

Reverse With Me (novel adapted)

Amid the intricate waltz of time, Kliaokhluen's life was spared seven years ago by a mysterious medical student Karan who possesses the power to manipulate time. Saved from the brink of death, Kliaokhluen found her life purpose, yet the only remnant of her savior was a name. Haunted by an unfulfilled connection, Kliaokhluen embarks on a relentless quest for Karan. She pursues a medical degree to follow in the footsteps of her enigmatic savior until fate takes an unexpected turn when, amidst the frantic urgency of the emergency room, their paths converge once more. Karan emerges, not as a fellow student but as a cold and distant cardiothoracic surgeon. Kliaokhluen, now a seasoned sixth-year medical student, struggles to bridge the gap, yearning for acknowledgment and understanding. As the lines between past and present blur, secrets unfold, revealing a complex accident from years ago and the icy demeanor of the woman who holds the key to Kliaokhluen's unanswered questions. Will Karan remain indifferent, refusing to recognize her unique ability to control time, or will their intertwined destinies finally unravel?

Watch the official trailer here.

Shades (original plot)

The series takes place in a chaotic all-girls school. The students, who are expected to be well-behaved, are rebellious and break the rules.

Watch the official teaser here.

No Romeo (original plot)

The series follows two friends. As their feelings evolve, financial and family issues come into play, bringing complication and depth to their relationship.

I’m Your Moon (novel adapted)

In the Buddhist year 2456 (1913), social rank and tradition bars the love between two princesses. Her Serene Highness Princess Phiangrawi and Her Serene Highness Princess Sasinapha are like sun and moon; they may never exist side by side. Nevertheless, their unfulfilled love and heart's wishes weave them a path back to each other. By the Buddhist year 2564 (2021), a new era has dawned when they fall back into one another's orbits. Katsakorn and Athitthan happen to meet and love blossoms in their hearts once more. The path to love, however, is never easy. The two must join hands to fight for it. Even without the veil of tradition barring them, the treacherous tale from the past still has a hold on their present.

Girl Rules (original plot)

The series follows the messy lives of six women. These women all follow different career paths, however are all still intricately linked with each other. Some are friends, ex-lovers, soon-to-be lovers, rivals or are in a situationship.

Watch the pilot trailer here.

Whale Store XOXO (novel adapted)

A repair girl meets the owner of a grocery store owner who needs help saving her business from going under, and they end up falling in love.

Watch the pilot trailer here.

Let’s Kick This Love (original plot)

The plot follows two main characters in an action-packed, adventure-filled story, with Senam in the cast, playing an important role in the plot. (summarised by @lesbicine)

Stuck With Me (novel adapted)

The plot revolves around Maitree and ManMek. One of them has the ability to stop time for 10 minutes. The plot mixes romance and mystery, with a good dose of tension, as the professional issues of both generate emotional complexity and the control of time can bring dramatic twists and turns. (summarised by @lesbicine)

Clairebell (novel adapted)

Belle Lalita was arrested on drug possession charges, even though the drugs weren’t hers. However, with the overwhelming evidence against her, her lawyer argued that there was no chance of winning the case, even if they fought it. Reluctantly, the young woman accepted her fate and stepped into prison, sentenced to fifteen months. However, life inside prison for Belle was far from peaceful as she had expected. She became a target of a powerful group within the prison, a group so influential that even the warden turned a blind eye to their actions due to mutual benefits. Belle had no other choice. Her last hope for survival lay with Claire, known as "Nineteen Scars," a notorious inmate whom no one dared approach. Amidst the storm of her life, while being confined and stripped of her freedom, Belle gradually began to feel the kindness hidden within Claire. Similarly, Claire started to learn how to empathize with others through Belle. "Love" slowly blossomed behind the towering prison walls, despite the increasing obstacles from both the powers within the prison and the outside world that had not been completely severed.

Somewhere, Somehow (novel adapted)

A hilarious and heartbreaking love story about a talented female engineer and her beautiful, fierce, and brutal female vice president that will make you smile, laugh, and cry with it.

[moonchildstyles]

harry at these soccer games…… 🥸🥸🥸 now THATS! my baby daddy prosecco h🥸

wordcount: 3.2k+

—————

"Sweetheart, are y'almost ready?" 

(Y/N) wanted to roll her eyes, huff out an attitude and shout back to Harry that she'd be ready when she was ready, until she saw the time. 

They were now running fifteen minutes behind.

To be fair, she thought she was doing much better on time than she actually was. She had figured the last time he had shouted to her was only a short two minutes ago, but it appeared he had given her a full ten minutes and she was still working on getting her hair to lay the way she wanted. At least her makeup was done and her outfit was laid out on her bed. 

"Almost," (Y/N) called back over the sound of the hairdryer, working the device a bit quicker over her strands. 

"We need to leave in five minutes, love. We're already running a little late, so try to be ready soon." 

Her lips thinned at his evergreen patience. Now she felt that much more guilty for almost giving him attitude. Besides, today was for him, one of the very few times he allowed himself to be the focus of their activities, the least she could do was hurry up and little and let him enjoy it to the fullest. 

Despite still not being happy with her hair, she took the strands at what they were and turned off the dryer. Worst case, she'd stick a claw clip in and hope that concealed the untamable strands. Rushing back to her bedroom, she made quick work of wiggling into her outfit. Finishing touches came in the form of clumsy perfume spritzes, extra swipes of lip gloss before shoving the tube in her bag, and blindly stuffing her feet into her shoes. 

Skittering out of her bedroom, she met Harry where he was standing with his phone in hand, forehead creased. 

"I'm ready, I'm sorry," (Y/N) blurted, fastening her emergency claw clip to the handle of her purse, "We can go." 

Harry looked up at her, clearly stressed with lines around his eyes and lips thinned, "'S alright, love. Y'look pretty." 

"Worth the wait?" she teased, feeling her cheeks warm from his smile praise.

The worry lines on his face melted some as she spoke, "Always. C'mon, pretty." 

Setting her hand in the crook of Harry's offered arm, (Y/N) suddenly forgot about each strand of hair that wouldn't cooperate, the fold on the heel of her sock from stubbornly stepping into her shoes. There was no way she could feel less than perfect when Harry talked to her that way—when he looked at her like that. 

—————

After the debacle of finding a parking space among the crowded lot, (Y/N) wasn't excited to see the amount of people that outnumbered the cars they had already trekked through. While she definitely enjoyed her nightlife, bar hopping among different crowds, there was something definitely much less appealing about this crowd she found herself among. 

(It was probably the lack of alcohol, if she was being honest). 

"Where are our seats?" (Y/N) murmured, clutching Harry's hand to keep him from straying. 

Absently peeking at the ticket on his phone, Harry rattled off the section and seat numbers. Truthfully, the information didn't mean much to her given that Harry was in charge of leading them to where they needed to go; she had hoped he would tell her in general where they would be watching the match, as in by the goal or something. 

She hummed in response, letting him pull her to go ahead of him as they ventured into a particularly congested area of the arena. A line for the concessions converged with the line of eager fans attempting to get special edition merchandise for the event, enough activity to leave a narrow space for both flows of traffic to travel through. 

"Jus' go straight ahead," Harry murmured as he ducked down to her ear, his hands on her waist from behind. 

A string of excuse me and sorry fell from her lips every time she encountered a new body, her steps minuscule as they moved beyond. If she had even wanted anything to drink or snack on during the game, there was no way she was even attempting the line unless they found a less noticeable stall or until everyone cleared out. 

Popping out on the other side, (Y/N) found a small space out of the way before turning to look at Harry once more. He made sure they got through the worst of it together, but his captaining job was far from over if the rest of the stadium was anything like that. 

"Y'okay, pretty?" he asked, looking to her through the dark of his shades though the stern line of his lips showed off all of his concern. 

"Yeah," she sighed, anchoring herself once more with a grip on his hand, "Just a lot of people. I wasn't expecting this." 

He hummed an acknowledgment to her as they started down the curving corridor along the bowl of the venue. "I've been wanting to take y'to other matches before this one, but someone's always too busy." 

The look he cast over his sunnies was accusing, though it lost much of his grit when a slight smile tugged at the corners of his lips. 

"Because I am," (Y/N) countered, just a pitch away from a whine in her voice, "And, I don't think I've been missing out on much if this is how these things go." 

"'S no different than one of your concerts, love," he mused, ever-patient as he counted off each of the section headers above the doors leading to the seating, "And this is a big match, anyway. They're usually not this crazy." 

Before she could offer anything in response, Harry rapidly pulled her out of the way as a group of shirtless men with green painted torsos barreled through the corridor, drunken laughter spilling in their wake. His features were set in stiff lines as he looked over his shoulder at the rowdy group disappearing. 

"Maybe a little worse than your concerts, actually," he muttered, the admission made under his breath as he opted to keep his arm around her waist as opposed to leashing her by his hand. Easier to keep her safe. 

With that, he became her guard dog for the trek, sharp eyes keeping watch for any and everything that might cause his pretty girl harm while finding their seats. Rowdy patrons or those unwilling to give her space were given sharp glare before Harry elbowed around them, ensuring no one touched even a single hair on the top of her head. 

It was enough to have (Y/N) sighing as if in a dream. It was cute seeing him act this way, protective and adoring. It was even more interesting to see others' reactions to his behavior; when others cowered out of the way, (Y/N) wondered what was going on in their head. She couldn't imagine wanting to go the opposite direction of her Harry, not even when he had his lips pursed and eyes narrowed. She was too familiar with the dimples hiding in the folds of his cheeks or the bunny-like front teeth shielded by lips. 

"I'll go first this time. Hang onto me," Harry directed once they reached the correct section. 

As he started down the flight of stairs, he reached a hand out behind him for (Y/N) to take. She didn't hesitate before clutching his fingers, his grip tight as he started descending to their row. Looking around at the arena of fans around her, (Y/N) truthfully couldn't believe the energy. It was decidedly much different than any concert she had ever attended, even to ones she'd been to at this exact venue. 

There was almost something slightly aggressive about the audience with the differing sides mingling together, along with pints of alcohol and greasy food. There were costumed attendees complete with wild wigs and painted faces sat beside those with determined faces and brains full of the rulebook. Of course there were those like H, just excited to be there and hopeful for their favorite team, and those like her, there because someone they cared about wanted to be in attendance. 

Going lower and lower in the bowl, Harry finally stopped over a handful of rows away from the green. Pulling her to stand beside him, he pointed at a pair of vacant seats a few people in. 

"Those two, right there. I'll be right behind you," he murmured into her ear, urging her on with a hand on her back. 

Going ahead without a word, (Y/N) apologized as she skirted her way by those already sat down. She couldn't help the frown that plucked her features when the crowd around them erupted into cheers for no apparent reason. It spiked her anxiety, feeling as if they were missing something important, even if (Y/N) didn't really have any real interest in any of the events taking place this evening. 

Settling into her seat, she waited for Harry to join her with wide eyes. As soon as he caught the way she was looking at him, a small smile touched his cheeks. 

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he uttered, sliding his sunglasses to the top of his head. 

"There's..." she trailed off, emphasizing her point with her eyes scanning around the stadium, "so much." 

"I know, right?" he muttered, a giddy undertone to his words, "'S exciting." 

"Something like that," she smiled, happy to see how excited he was to be here. 

"It'll be more fun when the match starts," he insisted, "Everyone settles down a little." 

"When does it start?" (Y/N) asked, watching as the jumbo screen above the field went through an advertisement for the cheese sticks available at the concession stand. If she wasn't turned off by the mess of a line they'd seen, she would be asking Harry if they could grab an order of the fried cheese. 

Harry hummed, checking his phone. "Not for another forty-five minutes." 

Just as he spoke, just a couple of rows ahead of them, a pair of strangers began loudly arguing about some statistics she had no context for. 

This was going to be a long forty-five minutes. 

—————

Shooting to her feet, (Y/N) followed Harrys cue as he cheered. She wasn't exactly sure what for, considering she didn't see any of the players make a goal, but she would just have to ask about those rules later. For now, she clapped and cheered with him, watching from the corner of her eye for when he took his seat again. 

When the crowd settled once more, Harry held a giddy smile on his face, nose pinkened by the time in the sun. As much as this match wasn't her cup of tea, seeing him having fun the way he was definitely made up for some of the discomfort and how lost she was rules-wise. 

Leaning over the armrest with her mouth hovering by his ear, she asked the same question she'd already posed periodically through the match, "Good?" 

"Really good, pretty!" he answered in a chirp, "We've got the ball now." 

"Ohhh," she sounded. It was news to her that their preferred team didn't have the ball already. 

The ball was nothing more than a black and white spot going across the green while colorful jerseys followed after. The audience was raptured, almost caught in silence while the plays were made, but (Y/N) was much more interested in watching Harry. 

While he wasn't completely committed to watching any and every game that came on the television, she could tell being here was especially exciting for him. It made her excited about the game just seeing how much it meant to him; she was this close to grabbing a jersey to keep at his house for the nights she spent over. 

She couldn't help but to angle herself as close as possible to him despite the armrest separating them, leaving her arm pressed flush against his. Harry didn't even glance at her before he was lifting that same arm and dropping it around her shoulders, keeping her close. 

"Thank you for coming with me, sweetheart," he murmured into her ear, his voice clear over the rush of the crowd. A delicate kiss was placed on her temple, his lips warmer than even the sun's rays on the grass. 

She beamed up at him, admiring the angles of his features. The height of his cheekbones, the line of his sun kissed nose, the length of his curling lashes. Her man. 

"Thank you for bringing me," she said, craning her neck just enough to press her lips to the stubbled cheek. 

She could feel the dip of his dimple underneath her lips as he smiled.

Just then, a seemingly important goal was made. Harry pulled her to stand up and cheer with him, his hands over his head with the rest of the excitable crowd. 

"Did you see that!?" Harry yelled, eyes wide and smile broad. 

Of course she didn't. She was busy kissing on her boyfriend, she wasn't watching the match. 

Nonetheless, seeing him smile made it that much easier for her to do the same. "That was crazy!" 

His expression—bright eyes with a wide smile, his cheeks holding a pinkened glow—was well worth her little fib. 

—————

"That's gonna look really cute on you, sweetheart." 

(Y/N)'s beaming smile was directed up at Harry, looking at the colorful jersey he'd purchased for her. It was truthfully not her color, and the fit was going to be something she was going to have to fight to style to her liking, but it was Harry's favorite player. More than anything, this was for him, something she was going to keep at his home for the night she would spend in his bed. 

"You think so?" she chirped, looking up at him with bright eyes. Maybe her words were a bit of a ploy, fishing for some compliments. Could anyone blame her? Hearing softened words wrapped up in his voice, all while he was looking at her, was all too easy to become addicted to. 

"I know so, love," he smiled, quickly casting his eyes to the line of cars slowly moving ahead of them, "Gonna wear it tonight?" 

Her smile turned a bit sheepish as his voice drawled around the question. "I can, if you want." 

When she peeked at him from the corner of her eye, she saw the way his eyes dropped to the jersey in her lap back up to the line of her profile. There was a shade to his gaze now, something warming through the green of his irises as he looked at her. The raspberry of his lips was slicked over by the top of her tongue just before his attention was called back to the windscreen. 

"I want." 

The breathy laugh that fell from her lips was just as dazed as it was spurred on by the butterflies awakening in her stomach. "I can do that." 

Harry hummed, reaching over to place his palm against her thigh. Traffic finally began to shift from the stop and go lock the car park was caught in, into a slow crawl, leaving his eyes fixed on the windshield instead of on his pretty girl. Instinctively, she angered her body towards him, settling her palm atop his hand. 

The dimple in his cheek was his only acknowledgment of her move. "Did y'really have fun today, love?" 

"I did," she chirped, bouncing in her seat, "I don't think I really get it still, but it was so fun to see all of the people. It made me excited even though I didn't really know what for." 

"Yeah?" he smiled, glancing at her as he shifted into the flow of traffic, "'M happy y'had fun. I know 's not really your thing, but it means a lot that y'came with me. Thank you, pretty girl." 

This time, the warming pit in her stomach flushed away into something delicate, full of cotton candy clouds and saccharine threads. She was sure her eyes were practically hearts at this point, trained right on him.

"You always come to me with all of my favorite stuff, so I'm happy we did something for you today. You had fun today, right?"

"So much, baby. I always have fun with you." 

She could have melted right into the leather of her seat if not for his hand on her thigh holding her together. 

"I always have fun with you, too," she murmured, reaching across the center console until she had her lips pressed to his cheek. It was a lingering touch, something she was well aware she needed to cut short given the cars racing outside the windows, but she couldn't help but to take her time. The stubble under her kiss prickled against her lips, against the tip of her nose. "I love you." 

As she settled back into her spot, Harry's grip tightened on her leg. "Pretty, I can't pull over right now." 

Blinking at him, she sounded, "Huh?" 

He shook his head, clicking his tongue. "Y'can't act like that—kissing on me and whispering—when I've got to keep us safe. 'S not fair, I want to kiss you, too." 

Biting back a smile, she wrapped her fingers around his clenching palm. "Just find a shoulder or something," she suggested, "Or, I'm sure we'll get to a red light at some point." 

He seemed to consider the former suggestion for a moment, eyes glancing out the windscreen to the lanes before them. After a moment, he shook his head. "I'll save it for when we're home. Are y'spending the night?" 

"I can if you want." 

"I want." 

This time, she couldn't help but let out a full, bubbling laugh. His response was quick—too quick to hide anything. "Are we still stopping for dinner?" she asked, despite knowing the likely answer. 

"No." 

Maybe she was missing the feel of his stubbled cheek, or she was teasing him just a little, but she couldn't help but to lean across and press another kiss to his cheek. 

His hand on her thigh moved in an instant, landing on the back of her neck in a weighty press. 

"Pretty." 

"Sorry," she giggled, pulling away though Harry's hand stayed just where it was on the back of her neck, "I'll stop." 

The sunburned glow to his nose and cheeks was only emboldened by the flush touching the cream of his skin. "Y'better, love. Y'like being good for me, right?" 

It was her turn to feel the warmth, the pad of his thumb skating over the column of her throat. "Yeah. Sorry, H." 

He gave one more lingering pulse of his fingers before his palm dragged down the curve of her throat and the length of her arm until it was back in her lap. "It's alright, sweetheart. Jus' save it for m'bedroom. And your new little shirt."

Who was she to turn down a plan like that? 

Maybe, they were going to have to start going to more of these matches. Especially if they ended like this.

—————

ive missed my king Prosecco:( I really hope everyone enjoys how this turned out! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if theres anything fun you want to share send them in!!!!!

[pucksandpower]

Hail to the Chief

Lando Norris x First Daughter of the US!Reader

Summary: in which Lando doesn’t realize exactly who he took back to his hotel room after the Miami Grand Prix (and almost causes an international incident in the process)

You stir awake, blinking slowly while you take in the unfamiliar surroundings. The sheets rustle as you stretch, a pleased smile spreading across your face. Strong arms tighten around your waist, and you glance over your shoulder to see Lando gazing at you with warm eyes.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss your bare shoulder.

You hum in contentment, snuggling back against his muscular chest. The sunlight streams in through the curtains, casting the hotel room in a cozy glow. Clothes are strewn across the floor, reminders of your passionate night together after meeting at the club.

Lando’s hand trails up your side, his touch leaving goosebumps in its wake. You shiver as his lips find the sensitive spot behind your ear, his breath hot.

“Ready for round two?” He whispers, his voice husky.

You twist in his arms to face him, locking your legs with his beneath the sheets. “I thought you’d never ask,” you purr, capturing his mouth in a deep kiss.

Just as things start heating up, loud banging erupts from the suite’s door. You break apart, startled. Lando frowns.

“Housekeeping?” You ask in confusion. More pounding follows, furious and insistent.

“I don’t think so,” Lando says warily.

Before either of you can react, the door crashes open, wood splintering. Men in dark suits pour into the suite, eyes hidden behind sunglasses. You yelp, grabbing the sheet to your chest. Lando scrambles upright, shock written across his handsome face.

“What the hell?” He exclaims.

The men converge on the bed in a swarm. Two sequester you, gently steering you away. The others tackle Lando, shoving him to the floor.

“Don’t fight it,” one orders as Lando struggles. He pins Lando’s arms behind his back.

“Get off me!” Lando shouts, face smushed into the carpet. “What is this?”

You know exactly what this is. Your security detail, come to collect you after last night’s escape. Panic rises in your throat.

“Please, don’t hurt him,” you beg the agents holding you.

Their grips remain firm but nonviolent. One talks rapidly into his earpiece, confirming the situation is handled. The apparent leader of the group stands over Lando, who glares up at him defiantly.

“Apologies for the intrusion,” the man states gruffly. “But you’re coming with us.”

Two agents haul Lando to his feet. He stands there in only his boxers, completely perplexed. You bite your lip, shot through with guilt. This is all because of you.

The agent in charge approaches you next, his gaze softening slightly. “Time to go home, ma’am. Your father is waiting.”

Lando’s head whips toward you so fast it must give him whiplash. “Ma’am? Your father?” His face goes ashen with dawning comprehension that there’s more to you than meets the eye. You wince, knowing there’s no way out of this now.

The agents begin herding you and Lando at a brisk pace through the ravaged hotel room door. Lando cranes his neck, trying to look at you.

“Y/N, what the hell is going on?” He hisses, stumbling along in the grip of two agents. “Who are you?”

You open your mouth, an apology on your lips. Before you can speak, the lead agent interjects sharply.

“She’s the First Daughter of the United States, son. And you’re in deep shit.”

Lando pales. “The President’s-”

“That’s right,” the man confirms. “And he’s mighty unhappy you took certain liberties with his little girl.”

Lando gulps audibly. Your heart twists with regret, seeing him so distraught. But the agents allow no further discussion, marching you both through the hotel’s back corridors. In minutes, you’re bundled into a black SUV with tinted windows. Tires screech as your motorcade peels away, sirens blaring.

You reach for Lando’s hand, relief flooding you when he doesn’t pull away. “I’m so sorry,” you whisper earnestly. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

He searches your face, brow furrowed. But his fingers tighten around yours. “It’s okay. Just tell me what’s going on. Please.”

You nod, knowing you owe him an explanation. But before you can speak, the SUV rolls to a stop on an empty airport tarmac. A sleek private plane awaits, engines rumbling. The agents hurry you both up the stairs into the lavish cabin.

Once settled inside, the lead agent fixes Lando with a solemn look. “We’re taking you straight to DC. The President wants to have a word with you both.”

Lando gulps again. You squeeze his hand, offering a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry. My dad’s just a little … overprotective sometimes.”

You nestle close to Lando as the jet taxis down the runway, hoping to provide some comfort. But he sits rigidly, face pale.

“Hey,” you say softly, “It’s going to be okay.”

Lando turns to you with wide, frightened eyes. “Okay? Your dad is the President! And I … I ...” He gestures helplessly at you, at a loss for words.

“Deflowered his only daughter?” You supply with a teasing grin.

Lando gulps loudly. “Oh god. He’s going to kill me, isn’t he? I’m a dead man. They’ll waterboard me or worse.”

You have to laugh at his flustered expression. “Relax, it won’t be that bad.”

“Easy for you to say,” Lando grumbles. “You’re not the one who’s gonna get shipped off to some CIA black site never to be heard from again.”

“Oh come on, he won’t go that far.”

Lando turns to you with wide, frightened eyes. “Are you sure? I’ve heard stories about shady government stuff. Secret torture chambers under the White House. Experimental poisons. Attack eagles trained to go for the jugular.”

You stare at him blankly for a moment before stating in a deadpan voice, “The eagles prefer to go for the liver actually. More tender that way.”

Lando lets out a whimper, his face draining of color. “Oh god, you’re serious?” He squeaks. “I knew it, I’m never getting out of this alive!”

You can’t keep a straight face any longer and burst out laughing. “Lando, relax! I’m just messing with you. There are no attack eagles or secret torture chambers.”

You take his hand and kiss his cheek reassuringly. “It’s going to be fine, I promise. My dad will probably just want to have a talk with you. That’s all.”

Lando still looks uncertain, but manages a shaky nod. “If you say so. But I think I’ll say a prayer or two just in case. Please tell me your old man doesn’t have a shotgun.”

“No shotguns,” you confirm, patting Lando’s knee. “But the Secret Service on the other hand ...”

Lando’s eyes widen in renewed fear. He clasps his hands together dramatically and looks upward. “Dear spirit of Ayrton Senna, please protect me from the wrath of the President and his highly trained special agents. I know not what awaits me in Washington, but I beg you to guard me from grievous bodily harm ...”

***

The plane touches down at Andrews Air Force Base, and you and Lando are swiftly escorted from the plane into an armored SUV. Lando fidgets nervously in his seat during the short drive through the capital, hands clasped tightly in his lap.

“It’s going to be okay,” you murmur, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. He attempts a weak smile in return.

All too soon, the SUV pulls up to the White House. You and Lando are ushered quickly inside by Secret Service agents, bypassing security checks. As you walk briskly through the historic halls, Lando gapes at the lavish architecture and priceless artwork adorning the walls.

“This is unreal,” he whispers. You give his hand an encouraging squeeze.

At last you arrive outside the Oval Office. The agents pause, stone-faced, before opening the tall wooden doors. Your stomach flip-flops with nerves as you enter behind them.

There, seated at the Resolute Desk, is your father — the President of the United States. He rises as you approach, his face impassive. You offer a timid smile.

“Hi, Daddy.”

Your father’s stern expression instantly melts. He circles the desk and pulls you into a warm embrace.

“There’s my little girl,” he murmurs, kissing the top of your head. “You had me so worried.”

Guilt gnaws at you. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t you worry about that now. I’m just glad you’re safe.” He pauses, then adds, “Though if you really wanted an F1 driver, why couldn’t it have been that nice American boy Logan Sargeant? Now there’s an upstanding young patriot.”

Your father holds you by the shoulders, surveying you with concern. Seeing that you’re unharmed, his gaze shifts to Lando hovering awkwardly behind you. Your father’s eyes harden, his jaw setting. Lando audibly gulps.

Stepping between them, you take a deep breath. “Daddy, this is Lando. The man I was with last night.”

You lace your fingers through Lando’s in a show of solidarity. Your father’s piercing stare makes him fidget.

“Lando Norris,” your father states coldly. “Formula 1 driver. British national. Born and raised in Bristol, England. Competes for McLaren Racing. Net worth of $30 million USD. Had unauthorized relations with my daughter approximately ...” He glances at his watch, “ ... twelve hours ago.”

Lando pales under your father’s recitation of his biography and recent activities. You shoot your dad a pleading look.

“Go easy on him, okay?”

Your father’s face softens slightly at your words. He beckons for Lando to step forward.

“Son, you have exactly one minute to explain yourself before I set the full force of the United States government on you for defiling my princess. And believe me when I say there are dark places in this world where no one will ever find you again.”

Lando looks ready to pass out. He glances at you in panic, mouth opening and closing soundlessly. You give his hand an encouraging squeeze, signaling for him to speak.

“I-I’m so sorry, Mr. President,” Lando stammers. “Obviously I didn’t know who Y/N was when we met last night. But I care about her a lot, truly, and I would never intentionally do anything to hurt her. I have nothing but respect for her and for you, sir.”

He straightens his shoulders, gaining confidence. “I understand I made a mistake, and I take full responsibility. But I promise, my intentions are honorable. If you’ll permit it, I’d like to properly court Y/N with your blessing.”

Your father studies Lando for a long moment, face unreadable. The tension in the room is stifling. Finally, he cracks a wry smile.

“Very well. You’ve got spunk, kid, I’ll give you that. And clearly my daughter sees something in you worth all this trouble. But understand this—” Your father leans in, eyes flashing. “You’ve got one shot to prove yourself worthy of her. Mess it up, and you’ll be scrubbing toilets in Guantanamo Bay for the rest of your short, miserable life. Are we clear?”

Lando audibly gulps again. “C-crystal clear, sir.”

“Good.” Your father claps Lando on the shoulder firmly enough to make him wince. Then he turns to you, expression softening.

“I’m not happy you were out all night without security, young lady. You’ll be grounded for two weeks. No cell phone, no social media, and no racing events.” You open your mouth to protest, but your father silences you with a raised hand. “However, in light of the circumstances, we’ll reduce it to one week. Consider yourself lucky.”

You sigh but don’t argue. Your father pulls you in for one more hug. “I’m glad you’re alright, sweetpea. Now run along back to the residence while I have a few more words with your new suitor here.”

You give Lando an encouraging smile as you exit the Oval Office. The last thing you see before the door shuts is your father clapping a hand on Lando’s shoulder again, steering him toward the Roosevelt Desk. “Have a seat, son. We’ve got lots to discuss ...”

Lando perches anxiously on the edge of the chair across from your father at the Roosevelt Desk.

“First things first,” your dad begins. “I expect you to treat my daughter with the utmost respect. No staying out all night and no unsavory activities. You will be a gentleman at all times. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” Lando says quickly.

“Second, you are not to distract her from her studies. Y/N is on track to graduate top of her class at Georgetown and I won’t have anyone jeopardizing that.”

Lando nods. “Of course not, her education comes first.”

“Good,” your father says gruffly. “Third rule: you will check in with me weekly to provide updates on where you are taking her and what you are doing. And know that my security team will be monitoring your activities closely as well.”

Gulping, Lando agrees to the terms. Your father continues laying down the law for several more minutes, covering everything from curfews to social media posts to PDA.

“And if at any point I decide you are no longer an appropriate suitor for my daughter, you will end the relationship immediately and without argument. Is that clear?”

“Crystal clear, Mr. President,” Lando says quickly. “You have my word I intend to do right by Y/N.”

Your father studies him a moment longer before cracking a wry smile. “Well, you’ve got guts at least, son. Most boys your age would’ve wet themselves by now. I suppose I can give you a chance. But remember, one toe out of line and ...”

He makes a slicing motion across his throat. Lando audibly gulps.

“Yes sir! I understand completely.”

“Good man,” your father says, standing to clap Lando on the back. “Now let’s get you out of here before you really do pass out ...”

***

After the whirlwind events of the day, Lando is given a plush guest suite in the White House residence to spend the night. He collapses onto the king-sized four poster bed, emotionally exhausted.

Just this morning he woke up with the President’s daughter in his arms. Now he’s been threatened within an inch of his life by the leader of the free world. What a wild rollercoaster of a day.

A soft knock at the door makes Lando jump. Before he can respond, you slip inside, closing the door quietly behind you.

“Y/N!” Lando exclaims in a loud whisper. “What are you doing here?”

You smile mischievously, walking over to sit beside him on the bed. “What does it look like? I missed you.”

Lando’s eyes dart around the room, half expecting your father to burst out of the closet. “Are you crazy? If we get caught together your dad will annihilate me!”

You wave a hand dismissively. “Oh relax, no one patrols the residential wing’s hallways at night. We’re completely alone.” Leaning in, you brush your lips teasingly along his jaw. “Now where were we this morning before we were so rudely interrupted?”

Lando can’t restrain a small groan of desire, but retains the presence of mind to gently halt your roaming hands. “Y/N, we can’t. You heard your father’s rules.”

You make a face. “Come on, live a little! He won’t know as long as we’re discreet.”

Biting his lip, Lando wavers. Having you here, so warm and willing in his arms, is incredibly tempting. And technically the President had only forbidden unauthorized nighttime activities outside of the White House ...

Sensing his hesitation, you straddle his lap and cup his face in your hands. “I want this, Lando,” you murmur sincerely before kissing him deeply.

That does it. Lando kisses you back hungrily, pulling you flush against him. You let out a delighted hum, fingers spearing into his curls. Within moments you’re both stripped down to your underwear, hands greedily exploring.

But as things heat up, Lando abruptly breaks the kiss, eyes wide. “Did you hear that?” He whispers.

You still, listening closely. “Hear what?”

“I thought I heard something in the hall.”

You grin teasingly. “You’re being paranoid.” But you indulge him and climb off so he can check, wrapping yourself in a sheet.

Lando cracks the door open slowly, peering out. Seeing nothing, he lets out a breath and returns to the bed.

“Okay, false alarm. Now, where were-”

His words cut off with a yelp as you pounce, pinning him beneath you. Laughing, you silence any further protest with your lips. Soon Lando is kissing you fiercely once more, hands roaming your body.

Just as he’s unclasping your bra, Lando breaks the kiss again. “Wait, did you lock the door?”

You huff in feigned annoyance. “Of course I did!”

But Lando is already slithering out from under you to double check. You flop back against the pillows with a sigh.

“Lando, would you relax? No one is coming.” You give him your best pleading look. “Now come back to bed and finish what you started, handsome.”

That seems to do the trick. With one final glance at the locked door, Lando grins and rejoins you. His warm hands and mouth resume their sensual exploration.

You’re both completely lost in each other when suddenly the door handle rattles.

“Someone’s coming!” Lando whispers in alarm.

He hurriedly gathers up the sheets around you just as the door swings open to reveal a Secret Service agent.

“Oh, uh, hello?” Lando says, trying to sound casual despite being shirtless and flushed.

You hold perfectly still under the sheet, heart hammering.

The agent surveys the room suspiciously. “Thought I heard voices. Everything alright in here, Mr. Norris?”

“Yep, all good!” Lando says with forced cheer. “Just chatting on the phone. With my … mum. In England. Time zones, you know.”

The agent clearly doesn’t seem convinced, his gaze raking over the disheveled bed. But after a long pause he simply says “Very well. Have a good night, sir.”

Lando sighs in relief as the door shuts. After a moment, you peek your head out from under the sheet.

“That was close!”

Lando flops back onto the bed, laughing. “No kidding! I thought we were busted for sure.”

Tilting his chin up, you give Lando a slow, sensual kiss. “Now then, I believe you still have some unfinished business to attend to, Mr. Norris ...”

Lando searches your face then grins sheepishly, pulling you into his arms. “You’re absolutely incorrigible. Come here.”

***

For your first official date night, Lando takes you out for dinner in The Inn at Little Washington. You emerge from your room in a stunning silky dress, hair and makeup impeccable.

Lando’s eyes widen and he lets out an appreciative whistle. “Wow. You look incredible.”

He pulls you in for a quick kiss, careful not to smudge your lipstick. Just then, your Secret Service detail emerges, dressed in their standard crisp black suits and sunglasses.

The lead agent addresses Lando gruffly. “Alright, here’s the deal. We’ll be accompanying you tonight, but our goal is to stay invisible. Don’t acknowledge us, don’t make eye contact, just pretend we’re not there.”

Lando nods, looking uncertain. With their massive builds and conspicuous attire, ignoring the agents doesn’t seem likely. But he decides to just go with it.

At the restaurant, the hostess seats you and Lando at a cozy table for two. As promised, your detail blends into the background, taking up positions around the dining room. Lando tries his best not to glance nervously at the two imposing figures lurking near the entrance.

After you order, Lando reaches across the table to take your hand. “You really do look stunning tonight,” he says softly. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

You blush prettily. “Smooth talker. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Lando grins. Just then, the sommelier arrives to present the wine list. As he’s rattling off descriptions of merlots and cabernets, you notice Lando’s gaze drift over the sommelier’s shoulder to where two of your agents are posted nearby. You squeeze Lando’s hand to get his attention back.

“Uh, sorry, what was that last one?” Lando asks, snapping his focus back to the confused sommelier.

Once you’ve ordered wine and appetizers, the conversation flows smoothly. Lando has almost forgotten about your not-so-invisible security until the entrees arrive. The waiter sets down your plates with a flourish.

As he pivots to leave, he collides directly with the broad chest of one of your agents, nearly upending the tray of food.

“Oh! Pardon me, sir,” the waiter stammers. The agent, true to his training, ignores the flustered waiter and remains statue-still.

Lando has to fake a coughing fit to disguise his laugh. You cover your mouth delicately, eyes sparkling with amusement. So much for blending seamlessly into the environment.

As dinner progresses, Lando finds his gaze drawn again and again to your hulking shadows scattered around the restaurant. He watches one agent accidentally block a busboy trying to clear a nearby table. Another nearly takes out a hovering food runner as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. It’s like seeing massive, well-dressed bulls in a china shop.

When the check comes, Lando signs quickly then leans toward you conspiratorially. “Have I mentioned how incredibly normal this dinner has been? Just two totally regular people on a date without armed guards watching our every move.”

You have to smother your giggles behind your hand. “Oh yes, completely low-key. I forgot the agents were even here!”

As you exit the restaurant hand-in-hand, Lando murmurs under his breath, “Nothing to see here, just a guy and his girlfriend trailed by four gigantic men in black ...”

You dissolve into laughter, drawing confused looks from passersby. Lando grins and pulls you close. Invisible security or not, it was a perfect first official date. And as your convoy of not-so-covert agents escorts you safely home, he’s already planning many more to come.

***

A few months later, you join Lando at Circuit of the Americas in Austin for the United States Grand Prix. As you walk hand-in-hand through the paddock, Lando smiles and waves at the fans calling his name from behind the fences.

Up ahead, a large group of people round the corner. Their eyes light up when they see you both.

“Here we go,” Lando murmurs, dropping your hand to sign autographs and pose for selfies.

But as the group draws near, you realize they aren’t fans — it’s the Governor of Texas and his entourage.

“Y/N!” the Governor booms jovially, arms open wide. Behind him are several legislators, donors, and a gaggle of reporters. “What a wonderful surprise!”

He engulfs you in a bear hug before holding you at arm’s length. “Don’t you look lovely! How’s your father doing? I just spoke to him last week about the education bill.”

Lando stands by awkwardly as you’re enveloped into the group. You glance at him apologetically while greeting each person.

“Daddy’s doing well, thanks for asking! Keeping busy as always.”

“I’ll bet!” the Governor chuckles. He turns to holler at one of his aides. “Hey Jim, tell the White House we said hello to his beautiful daughter, would ya?”

The reporters surge forward eagerly, microphones extended. “Y/N, what brings you to Austin this weekend?”

You gesture to Lando. “I’m here supporting my boyfriend, Lando. He’s racing for McLaren.”

All eyes turn to Lando curiously. Flashing cameras make him squint. The Governor grabs his hand in an enthusiastic shake.

“Lando, eh? Good to meet you!” Without waiting for a response, he turns back to you. “Y/N, your father briefed me on the proposals to increase Pell Grant funding. Seems like an excellent plan ...”

As the Governor launches into policy discussion, Lando shifts awkwardly on his feet. You keep one eye on him while politely engaging with each person. More politicians approach to lobby you about your dad’s agenda.

“Your father’s infrastructure bill was brilliant!” One praises. “Make sure to tell him he’s got my full support.”

You smile. “I’ll let him know. I know he appreciates your vote.”

One donor pipes up excitedly. “I’ll be holding a high-dollar fundraiser next month in Dallas. Your attendance would mean so much ...”

You tactfully deflect, making no commitments. The reporters pepper you with questions about your studies at Georgetown and future political aspirations. You give diplomatic answers about focusing on the present while the Governor boasts of your potential.

“Y/N here is gonna be President herself one day!” He winks conspiratorially. “I’m calling it now, folks.”

Mercifully, an aide reminds the Governor he’s late for a meeting. As the group prepares to move on, he pumps your hand enthusiastically.

“It was fantastic to see you, Y/N. Tell your old man I said hello! Keep up the good work in school.” He spares a departing nod at Lando. “Nice meeting you, son.”

And with that, the entourage sweeps away. You let out a breath, turning to Lando. “I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t expect the Governor to be here.”

But Lando just stares after the departing politicians, looking slightly stunned. “I mean … I knew your dad was the President. But I guess it didn’t totally sink in until just now ...”

He runs a hand through his curls. “It’s like you’re royalty or something. Paparazzi, donors, governors … you’re a big deal, Y/N.”

You bite your lip. “Not by choice. I know the attention is weird, but I promise I’m still just me.” You take his hand, gazing at him earnestly. “None of those people determine our relationship. Only we do.”

Lando searches your face, then smiles. “You’re right. It’s just … surreal sometimes. But it doesn’t change how I feel or that I want to make this work.”

He squeezes your hand. You grin, feeling a rush of affection. Standing on tiptoe, you give him a lingering kiss. Around you, cameras flash as photographers snap the moment.

Lando chuckles as you break apart. “I’d better get used to that too, huh?”

“Comes with the territory,” you laugh. Taking his arm, you continue through the paddock. “Now come on. Let’s go watch qualifying before more politicians ambush us!”

***

The cheers of the crowd are deafening as Lando crosses the finish line in first place, finally claiming his first ever Formula 1 victory. You’re jumping up and down in the McLaren garage, absolutely elated for your boyfriend.

In the frenzy of celebrations after the race, you and Lando manage to slip away from the crowds and teams back to his hotel suite to continue the festivities in private. As soon as the door shuts behind you, Lando whoops and sweeps you up in his arms, spinning you around.

“I did it, baby! I finally did it!”

You grin, happiness bubbling up inside you. “I’m so proud of you! I knew this day would come.”

Setting you down, Lando crashes his lips to yours in a fierce, passionate kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, feeling like you might burst from joy.

Eventually you break apart, both flushed and beaming. Lando brushes his thumb over your cheek tenderly.

“I couldn’t have done this without your support, Y/N. You being here to share this means everything to me.”

You place your hand over his heart. “Wild horses couldn’t have kept me away. I’ll always be your biggest fan.”

Lando’s eyes darken and he pulls you in for another searing kiss. Your heartbeat quickens as his hands trail down your back, fumbling for the zipper on your dress. Blindly you shuffle toward the bed, leaving a trail of clothes behind you.

Things are just starting to really heat up when suddenly the hotel room door bursts open. Your Secret Service detail comes pouring in, guns drawn.

“HANDS IN THE AIR!” An agent bellows. “Ma’am, are you alright?”

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Lando yelps, grabbing frantically for a sheet to cover you both. “She’s fine! We’re just … celebrating!”

The agents quickly assess the situation. Their leader clears his throat, lowering his weapon.

“Apologies for the intrusion. Your smart watch alerted us to an elevated heart rate indicating potential distress. We believed you were in danger.”

You close your eyes, mortified heat flooding your cheeks. “Oh my god. It’s fine, everything’s fine! You all can go now.”

The agents shuffle out, mumbling apologies. Lando collapses back on the bed, absolutely hysterical with laughter. You smack his shoulder, which only makes him laugh harder.

“It’s not funny!” You exclaim, covering your flaming face.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Lando gasps through his giggles. “It’s just — their faces! And then when they saw us ...” He dissolves into another fit.

Despite your embarrassment, his laughter proves contagious. Soon you’re both wiping away tears, sides aching.

Finally calming down, Lando strokes your hair back from your face affectionately. “Well, that’s one way to kill the mood.”

You groan, rolling your eyes. “No kidding. We desperately need to tweak the sensitivity on this watch.”

“Maybe we could take it off temporarily?” Lando suggests with a playful waggle of his eyebrows.

You shake your head. “I wish, but this watch has saved my life before. I can’t take it off.”

Lando’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Really? What happened?”

You absently toy with the watch on your wrist. “About two years ago I was out shopping and some guys tried to grab me. If I hadn’t been wearing this watch with its location tracker, my detail might not have found me in time.”

You shudder at the memory. Lando takes your hand, face filled with concern.

“That’s awful, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

You offer a reassuring smile. “It worked out okay. So as annoying as it can be, it’s staying on 24/7 for my safety.”

Lando nods seriously. “Of course. I would never want to jeopardize your security just for some fun.” He kisses your temple. “I guess we’ll just have to get creative when it comes to celebrating in private from now on.”

You grin mischievously. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

***

“So Lando, I gotta ask — how are things going with Y/N?” Max Fewtrell asks with a smirk through the webcam.

You feel your cheeks flush from where you’re sitting on the couch off-camera as Lando grins sheepishly. “Things are going great, thanks for asking.”

The chat explodes with messages.

Is she there?

We want to meet her!

Max chuckles at the chat’s reaction. “Sounds like the fans want you to bring Y/N on stream, what do you think?”

Lando looks over at you. “I mean, if you’re up for it they’d love to meet you.”

You hesitate, suddenly feeling shy at the thought of going on Lando’s stream. But the encouraging look on his face gives you courage. “I guess I can say a quick hello,” you say, walking over.

As you enter the frame, Max suddenly starts blasting “Hail to the Chief,” causing you to jump.

“Oh my god Max, really?” You groan, though you can’t help but laugh.

“I had to!” Max cackles. “The First Daughter deserves a proper entrance.”

Lando playfully rolls his eyes and pulls you into his lap. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the memes.”

You smile, leaning into Lando as you glance at the rapidly moving chat. Most of the messages are incredibly positive — welcoming you and talking about what a cute couple you and Lando are.

“Hi everyone!” You say with a small wave. “I’m Y/N, nice to meet you all.”

“She’s just a normal girl who happens to have the most powerful man in the world wrapped around her finger,” Lando jokes, kissing your temple.

You grin up at him then turn back to the webcam. “I guess our relationship can look pretty weird from the outside. But Lando makes me really happy, and I hope we have your support.”

The chat floods with heart emotes and messages gushing about young love.

Max smiles. “You two are adorable. But inquiring minds want to know — how did you meet?”

You and Lando share a knowing look. “Well...” he draws out. “We actually met in Miami during the Grand Prix last year.”

“Oooh an international romance!” Max teases.

You poke Lando playfully in the side. “What he’s leaving out is that we met at a club. I was there on a rare night out and he came over to ask me to dance.”

“Is that so?” Max grins.

“Hey now, no need for the details,” Lando says, tickling your sides as you squirm and laugh.

The chat is begging for the full story, so you decide to give it to them. “Okay, okay! So we danced all night and really hit it off. Then the next morning ...”

You trail off, trying not to giggle as Lando shakes his head. “Do we really need to tell them about the next morning?”

Yes! The chat unanimously agrees.

You pat Lando’s cheek. “It’s okay honey, I’ll protect you from the memes this time.”

Clearing your throat, you continue. “So the next morning, after a night of … fun, my secret service detail may have burst into Lando’s hotel room to bring me back home.”

Max bursts out laughing. “No way! Lando, you absolute madman.”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Lando exclaims, though he’s laughing too. “How was I supposed to know who she was?”

Max snorts. “I mean, who doesn’t recognize America’s Sweetheart?”

Lando smirks. “I’m British! And I was a bit distracted by her other, uh, assets.”

“Lando!” You swat his chest playfully as he cracks up, the chat going crazy over his flirtatious teasing.

“Anyway,” you go on. “I had to explain to my security team that I was fine and we were just hanging out. But of course they still dragged both of us back to the White House so Lando could meet my father.”

Max is wheezing. “No way, they took you to meet the President after an one night stand?”

Lando covers his reddening face. “It was mortifying. I was stumbling around half asleep still in last night’s clothes, reeking of vodka and bad decisions.”

You kiss his cheek, patting his leg consolingly. “Aww babe, you did great. My dad said he admired your composure given the circumstances.”

Lando peeks out from behind his hands. “Really?”

“Really,” you confirm. “He could tell how much you cared about me and that you weren’t just fooling around. And obviously he was right, since here we are a year later and happier than ever.”

Lando smiles softly, pulling you in for a sweet kiss. “Yeah, here we are.”

The chat has switched to mostly heart eye and aww emojis, gushing about you two being relationship goals.

You turn back to the camera a bit bashfully. “So yeah, that’s the story of how we met. Not exactly a fairytale beginning but ...”

You trail off as Lando reaches out to tilt your chin towards him, looking into your eyes earnestly. “It was the start of my fairytale,” he says softly.

Your heart flutters at his words. You lean in and kiss him tenderly. For a moment, it feels like you and Lando are the only two people in the world.

When you finally break apart, you rest your forehead against his. “You’re my fairytale too,” you whisper.

Lando’s eyes are full of love and wonder, as if he can’t believe how lucky he is to have found you.

“Awww!” Max interrupts your intimate moment. “You two are just too cute. The chat is loving this!”

You glance over to see the chat flooded with positive messages about your relationship. Smiling shyly, you take Lando’s hand and lace your fingers together.

“I’d say this turned out to be a pretty good stream, wouldn’t you?” Lando asks, grinning.

You laugh, giving his hand a squeeze. “Definitely one of your best.”

[andy-15-07]

can you do a fic with Paul Atreides, where Y/n is a bene gesserit and they find he is the One

Our love is powerful

masterlist ! pairing: Paul Atreides x reader

Dune Masterlist

In the mystical world of Arrakis, where sand dunes whispered ancient secrets, Paul Atreides and you, a Bene Gesserit, found yourselves entwined in a destiny written in the sands of time. The air in the Sietch was charged with anticipation as the Bene Gesserit sisterhood, with their millennia-old knowledge, discerned a truth that transcended the ordinary.

As you and Paul stood in the sacred chambers of the Bene Gesserit, the reverence in the air hinted at the gravity of the moment. The sisterhood, with their eyes that held the wisdom of countless generations, regarded Paul with a mix of expectation and acknowledgment.

"Y/N," one of the elder Bene Gesserit addressed you, "the threads of fate have woven a tapestry that binds your path with that of Paul Atreides. He is the One—the Kwisatz Haderach."

The realization hung in the air, a moment that echoed through the corridors of time. Paul, with his piercing blue eyes and a destiny that weighed heavily on his shoulders, looked at you with a mix of curiosity and acceptance.

"What does this mean?" Paul inquired, the weight of the prophecy settling on his young shoulders.

The elder Bene Gesserit stepped forward, her voice a melodic resonance that carried the echoes of ancient wisdom. "The Kwisatz Haderach—the One who can bridge space and time, unlocking the secrets of the universe. He who possesses both male and female ancestral memories, breaking the limitations that have bound humanity."

You, a Bene Gesserit bound by duty and destiny, met Paul's gaze with a depth of understanding. "Paul, you are the culmination of a plan set in motion by the Bene Gesserit sisterhood. The threads of our bloodlines converge in you."

The gravity of the revelation seemed to settle in the room. Paul, born into a lineage of political intrigue and ancient prophecy, found himself at the crossroads of destiny.

As you and Paul retreated from the sacred chambers, the Sietch buzzed with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. The sands of Arrakis seemed to echo the whispers of the prophecy that had been unveiled.

"Y/N," Paul began, his voice a quiet contemplation, "what does it mean for us? For our relationship?"

You turned to him, your eyes reflecting the weight of the truth. "Paul, our connection goes beyond the prophecy. The Bene Gesserit may have seen the threads of fate, but our love is a force that transcends destiny. Together, we navigate the path that unfolds before us."

The days that followed were filled with the intensity of preparation, as Paul embraced the training and revelations that came with being the Kwisatz Haderach. The Bene Gesserit sisterhood, with their watchful eyes, guided him through the intricacies of their ancient knowledge.

Amidst the trials and tribulations, your connection with Paul deepened. As he grappled with the weight of his destiny, your presence became a source of solace and understanding. Late nights were spent beneath the stars, the two of you seeking refuge in each other's arms.

One evening, as the desert winds whispered tales of destiny, Paul looked at you with a mix of vulnerability and determination. "Y/N, I may be the Kwisatz Haderach, but my heart belongs to you. Our love will be the anchor as I navigate the complexities of this path."

You smiled, a reassurance that transcended words. "Paul, no prophecy can diminish the love we share. The threads of fate may guide your journey, but our connection is a beacon that lights the way."

As Paul embraced his destiny, the sands of Arrakis witnessed a love story that defied the limitations of prophecy. Together, you and Paul Atreides forged a path that merged ancient wisdom with the unwavering power of love—a journey that echoed through the sands of time, leaving an indelible mark on the destiny of Arrakis.

[mononijikayu]

apt — fushiguro megumi.

Megumi looks down at you, his expression unreadable for a moment, but his eyes darken, understanding the suggestion beneath your words. His hand slides up your back, his touch slow and deliberate, sending a trail of warmth along your spine. You catch his eye, the music thrumming around you, and lean in closer. "Don't you want me like I want you, baby?" you ask, your voice playful and teasing. You feel him tense slightly, not because he's unsure, but because this is new to him—the intensity, the openness of your affection. You’re out in the open, letting your feelings show, and you can tell he’s still adjusting to this.

GENRE: Alternate Universe — Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: AFAB!, Fluff, Romance, Aged Up! Megumi (he and reader are 20), Pet Names (Baby, Babe, Sweetie), Clubbing, Kissing, Making Out, Humor, Flirting, Teasing, Mention of Sexual Want, Mention of Body Parts, Mention of Sensual Touching, Depiction of Clubbing Experience, Depiction of Sensual Touching, Depiction of Kissing, Depiction of Making Out, Implied Sexual Content;

WORDS: 2.6k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i like to think that megumi might end up dating his polar opposite. he's quiet and likes being a homebody and i really think that if he ends up, he'll end up with someone loud and someone who enjoys going out (cough cough thats itafushi kayu) and yes, i also think he's someone that loves and loves. he loves love. he's a wheezer fan. but anyway, i hope you enjoy this!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

IT’S VERY RARE FOR MEGUMI TO WANNA GO OUT CLUBBING. When you’d suggested going out dancing, you weren’t sure how Megumi would react. He wasn’t exactly the clubbing type—always so composed, preferring quiet nights and calm spaces.

But when you flashed him your best doe-eyed look, teasing him with a playful smile, he couldn’t resist. It only took a moment for his resolve to waver, and before you knew it, the two of you were stepping into the pulsating energy of the club.

Now, as the music thumps loudly around you, lights flashing and casting shifting shadows across his face, you can’t help but be surprised by how relaxed he seems. His usual guarded exterior has softened, the hard edges of his stoic demeanor blurring in the haze of the neon glow.

He’s not as stiff or reserved as you’d expected; instead, he moves with you, his body attuned to yours as if the two of you have been doing this for years. The way you click—it’s undeniable, as if something magnetic has pulled you closer tonight.

You dance together in sync, the beat of the music reverberating in your chest. Every brush of your skin against his sends sparks of electricity through you. Megumi might not be as expressive with words, but the way he watches you now, his eyes following your every move, speaks volumes. There’s an intensity in his gaze, a quiet confidence that contrasts with the chaos around you, making your heart race even faster.

The rhythm carries you both, your bodies swaying together effortlessly, almost as if you’re the only two people in the room. The connection between you feels palpable tonight—charged and electric, as if the energy in the club has amplified the pull between you. It’s like the world outside these four walls has faded away, leaving only the two of you in the dim, flashing lights, lost in each other.

Megumi’s hands rest on your waist, steady and strong, guiding you closer to him. You lean into him, your lips brushing his ear as you speak over the music. "You’re enjoying this more than you thought, aren’t you?" you tease, grinning when you feel him tense slightly.

He chuckles, a sound so rare and low that it sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. "Maybe." he admits, his voice soft but unmistakably sincere. His hands tighten on your waist, pulling you even closer as the beat of the music pulses around you, almost syncing with the rhythm of your racing heart.

You turn your face towards his, close enough that you can feel his breath against your skin. There’s a moment where everything slows down, despite the chaos of the club around you, and you realize just how much you’ve wanted this closeness. Not just the dancing, but being with him like this—feeling the weight of his presence, the quiet strength in the way he holds you.

"Apartment, apartment." you sing softly into his ear, mimicking the lyrics of the song playing in the background, but with an unmistakable undertone.

It’s a playful invitation, laced with flirtation, but also something more. You don’t want this night to end with just dancing.

Megumi looks down at you, his expression unreadable for a moment, but his eyes darken, understanding the suggestion beneath your words. His hand slides up your back, his touch slow and deliberate, sending a trail of warmth along your spine.

You catch his eye, the music thrumming around you, and lean in closer. "Don't you want me like I want you, baby?" you ask, your voice playful and teasing.

You feel him tense slightly, not because he's unsure, but because this is new to him—the intensity, the openness of your affection. You’re out in the open, letting your feelings show, and you can tell he’s still adjusting to this.

As you sway together, your bodies in sync with the rhythm, you press your lips close to his ear. "Apartment, apartment." you hum, mimicking the song playing in the background. There's an invitation hidden in your words, the way you sing it softly into his ear like a secret only for him.

You pull back slightly to see his reaction, his eyes dark with something that makes your heart race. His usual calm exterior cracks just a bit, revealing a hint of amusement in his smirk. He knows what you’re asking. You’ve both been having a great time, but there’s an unspoken tension lingering between you, something that can only be released away from the crowd, in the privacy of your apartment.

“Kissy face, kissy face.” you remind him, thinking back to the flirtatious texts you sent before meeting up tonight. The playful hearts, the suggestive emojis—they all led up to this moment. “Sent to your phone, but I’m tryna kiss your lips for real.”

Megumi doesn’t say much, you know how your boyfriend is. He’s always been the quiet type—but the way his gaze locks onto yours tells you everything. His hand tightens around yours just slightly, as if he’s made his decision. He leans in, his voice low and just for you.

“Yeah.” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “Let’s go, sweetie.”

Without another word, you take his hand and lead him through the packed club, weaving through people who seem oblivious to the magnetic pull between the two of you. The cool night air hits you as you step outside, a refreshing contrast to the heat inside. Your heart races, excitement buzzing under your skin as you both walk toward your apartment.

"Apartment, apartment." you sing softly again, the words echoing playfully between you. Megumi chuckles, something rare but beautiful, shaking his head at your antics. But there’s a warmth in his eyes that tells you he’s looking forward to whatever comes next.

As you reach your apartment door, there’s a shared anticipation, a quiet understanding of what’s about to happen. You unlock the door and step inside, immediately feeling the contrast between the lively, loud club and the intimate, quiet space of your home. The city lights outside cast a soft glow into the room, but everything else feels like it’s just the two of you.

"Turn this apartment into a club." you say with a grin, referencing the lyrics of the song still stuck in your head. Megumi just shakes his head again, but his eyes glint with something more mischievous.

You hit play on the stereo, and the familiar beat from the club fills the apartment, but it feels different here together. This was more personal, more intimate. There’s no one else, just you and him, swaying in the soft glow of the room. You twirl around him, pulling him closer, your hands finding their way to the back of his neck, fingers playing with the ends of his hair.

As the music fills the space between you, you lean in again. "Don't you need me like I need you now?" you whisper, your lips brushing against his ear.

His hands settle on your waist, pulling you in closer, his voice barely above a murmur. "I do, sweetie."

As the music pulses softly in the background, the intimacy between you and Megumi thickens in the air. Your bodies are already so close, the rhythm of your movements syncing naturally, but there's a shift—a deeper pull. His hands, resting on your waist, slide lower, fingers tightening slightly, as if he’s anchoring himself in the moment.

You lean back just enough to catch his gaze, eyes meeting him in the dim light of your apartment. There’s something smoldering there, something that makes your breath catch in your throat.

You’ve both been dancing around this tension all night, but now it feels impossible to ignore. You feel bold, more playful, and you let your hand trail up from his chest to his neck, brushing the side of his jaw with your fingertips.

"Don’t you want me like I want you, baby?" you whisper again, voice low and teasing. It’s the same question you’ve asked before, but this time, it’s loaded with more than just a flirty tone. You lean in closer, lips brushing just the edge of his, a featherlight tease that leaves both of you on edge.

Megumi’s breath hitches, his usual calm exterior cracking just a little. He doesn’t respond with words this time. Instead, he closes the distance between you, his lips crashing into yours with a sudden intensity that takes your breath away. The kiss is hot, urgent—like he’s been holding back for too long and can’t anymore.

His hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepens, your lips moving in perfect sync, hungry for more. You respond with just as much intensity, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as if you can’t get enough. His mouth moves with a confidence that sends heat coursing through your body, and you melt into him, giving in to the passion building between you.

You gasp slightly as he nips at your bottom lip, his hands sliding up your back, pressing you even closer. It’s hard to tell where your body ends and begins. The heat between you is overwhelming, but you don’t want it to stop. The kiss grows deeper, more desperate, as if neither of you can get close enough, fast enough.

His hands roam over your body, exploring, as yours do the same—tracing the lines of his shoulders, down his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. Every touch feels like it ignites a fire, the air between you charged with tension that has finally snapped. You pull back for just a moment, both of you breathless, your lips swollen from the heat of the kiss.

You look up at him, eyes wide with desire, and he’s looking back at you with the same intensity. His usual composed, reserved expression is long gone, replaced by something darker, more primal. Without saying a word, he leans down and captures your lips again, this time rougher, hungrier, and you can’t help but moan softly into his mouth.

Your back hits the wall as he presses you against it, his body flush against yours, his hands now gripping your thighs as he lifts you slightly, urging you to wrap your legs around his waist. You do, pulling him even closer, deepening the kiss as your fingers grip the back of his neck, holding on tightly as if the world outside your apartment has ceased to exist.

His lips leave yours, trailing hot kisses down your jawline, to your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin in a way that makes your head spin. Each kiss sends a shiver down your spine, and you tilt your head back, giving him full access as you let out a breathy sigh. His lips are relentless, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, while his hands continue their journey over your body, setting every nerve on fire.

You pull him back to your lips, capturing him in another searing kiss, your bodies moving together in perfect, heated rhythm. There’s no hesitation, no uncertainty—just raw, unfiltered desire, consuming both of you.

You don’t even notice how long it’s been, how far you’ve let yourselves get lost in each other, but you don’t care. All you know is that you want more.

And from the way Fushiguro Megumi's hands tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer, you can tell he feels the same.

The heat between you both only intensifies, each kiss growing deeper, more desperate as Megumi presses you harder against the wall. The air is thick with tension, each movement, each touch, fueling the fire that's been simmering all night. His lips leave yours again, but only to trail down your neck, sucking gently at your pulse point, making your breath hitch as your body responds instantly to his touch.

You let out a soft moan, feeling the way his hands roam up and down your sides, gripping you with possessive urgency. Every part of you is attuned to him—the feel of his body pressed tightly against yours, the way his fingers trace along your skin, igniting sparks everywhere he touches. Your legs stay wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, craving the connection, the closeness that’s becoming overwhelming.

"You're driving me crazy, baby." you breathe against his ear, your lips grazing the skin just beneath it, and you feel him shudder in response. His usual restraint is gone, replaced by a hunger that matches your own.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark, half-lidded with desire. There’s something so intense about the way he looks at you now, as if he’s seeing you in a way no one else ever has.

It makes your heart race even faster, your body craving every bit of him. He leans in again, this time slower, but no less passionate, his lips meeting yours in a deep, heated kiss that feels like it's pulling you under.

His hands slide under your shirt, fingers brushing against bare skin, and you gasp at the contact, the coolness of his touch contrasting with the heat spreading through your body. Your own hands roam freely, tugging at his shirt, wanting to feel him, to be closer. His skin is warm beneath your fingers, and you can't get enough.

Suddenly, Megumi pulls you away from the wall and carries you toward the couch, the movement swift and smooth, as if he’s completely lost in the moment. He lowers you into it, his body pressing down on yours, his lips never leaving yours as you sink into the cushions together. The weight of him above you feels perfect, grounding you while also heightening the intensity of every kiss, every touch.

His mouth moves from yours to your collarbone, his kisses turning into soft bites that make you arch against him, every nerve in your body alive with sensation. You feel his breath hot against your skin as he whispers your name, his voice low and rough, sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

Your hands thread through his hair, tugging him closer, needing more of him as his mouth explores every inch of exposed skin. You tilt your head back, giving in to the sensation, your mind spinning with the sheer intensity of it all.

"Don’t stop, babe, oh—" you whisper, your voice breathless, and he responds by kissing you harder, his body pressing more insistently against yours. You can feel the tension building, the desire between you reaching a fever pitch as you lose yourselves completely in each other.

Megumi’s hands are everywhere and you loved that. You liked being consumed by him. On your waist, sliding up your back, holding you closer as if he can’t get enough of you. His kisses are hot, urgent, and you meet his intensity with your own, pulling him closer, your bodies moving in perfect, heated rhythm.

Every moment feels like a blur of passion—his lips, his hands, the way he touches you like you’re the only thing that matters in this moment. Time seems to slow down, the world outside fading away, until it’s just the two of you, tangled together, lost in the heat of the moment.

There’s a pause, just a brief one, where he pulls back slightly, his breathing heavy, and his eyes lock onto yours. His gaze is dark, filled with raw need, and it sends a shiver through you. Without a word, he leans in again, capturing your lips in another hot, searing kiss, as if he’s silently telling you there’s no going back now. And you don’t want to.

Everything about this moment feels perfect—electric, intense, and real. The way he touches you, the way he kisses you, it’s all-consuming, and you give yourself over to it completely, lettin’ the night take you wherever it leads, knowing that with him, this connection, this fire, is only just beginning.

[winnisblur]

“Cracks In Our Hearts.”

pairing ❤︎‬: gender neutral reader x sunghoon. w.c ‪‪❤︎‬: 4.5 - 5k (it’s word vomit at its finest) synopsis ‪‪❤︎‬: you’re a player in squid game, and thanks to a certain square guard, you’ve managed to survive (and get fucked).

this fic includes ‪‪❤︎‬: smut so mdni, death(s?), blood, sunghoon is a guard and is hot with a mask and pistol, he’s also cold(i think that’s the word), reader just trying to survive, ends up dying tho lol, bathroom sex, choking, pain and gun kink, degradation, sunghoon is actually a jerk beneath the mask, so is reader, unprotected sex, readers skin colour nor private parts are mentioned and etc.

warnings ‪‪❤︎‬: english isn’t my first language, not really proofread so srry about that, and i’m nervous af cus this is my first time writing T-T, this is based off of s1 so spoilers ahead (for those who haven’t watched both seasons”.

…..I shouldn't have survived the first game.

The thought clings to me like a stain as I sit cross-legged on the cold gray floor of the dormitory. Around me, everyone's faces wear that same haunted look-eyes sunken, shoulders hunched-but it does nothing to erase this truth: I'm still here, and a hundred others aren't.

My hands shake as I clutch the bottle of water they gave us, the only comfort in this nightmare. “Red Light, Green Light” was supposed to be simple. A childish game, nothing more. But then, when the first shot went off, the simplicity was in pieces. I kept my head down, my steps calculated. An act of luck rather than any skill saved me. Halfway, my legs had locked, but the chaos around saved me. I was too scared even to breathe, let alone blink while that giant, doll-like machine scanned the field. The screams. The silence. They cling to me as much as the relief of being alive.

But that leaves me with just one question: how long will I last?

Dalgona Game

As the guards herd us into the grounds, that feeling of luck is not there.

The sun knocks heavily upon the earthy ground, and a whispering wave curls through the players. In front of us stood a table piled high with tins, each containing the next nightmare: “Dalgona candy.” The guard with the square mask appears to be in charge; he steps forward. His voice rumbles from behind his mask. "You will each choose a tin. Inside is a shape. Your task is to extract the shape from the candy without breaking it. You will have ten minutes."

That's it? A shape?

But then I look at the examples on the display-circle, triangle, star…and an umbrella. My stomach does a flip. Not just precision, but luck too. A wrongly picked tin means my death. The queue moved fast; shaking hands reached for tins, people picking as if their lives depended on it. Because they do.

When it's my turn, I force myself to breathe and reach for the one closest to me. The metal feels cool and heavy in my hands. I don't even open it right away, afraid to see what fate I've chosen. Finally, I lift the lid.

The umbrella stares back at me.

"Great," I mutter under my breath. I look around, and there are a few groaning in despair as they unveil their shapes. Most got stars or circles—luckies. The timer starts, and the courtyard almost becomes a battlefield of concentration. People start licking their candies, tapping needles at them, and quite a few try to bite them. I take the given needle and gently press it against the candy. The sound of cracking candy nearby makes my heart run. I start shaking and tracing the thin, delicate lines of the umbrella. "Steady," I say to myself. Halfway through, it happened.

Snap.

The handle of the umbrella broke off clean. My blood ran cold.

It was over.

Instantly, my head jerks up to find the nearest guard. They are already converging on other players who busted their candies. I heard shots ring out and immediately froze. That is when I see him.

One of the square-guards, taller than the others, stops a few feet away. I cannot see his face, yet there is something different in the way he looks at me. His head tilts slightly, studying me, and for that one fleeting instant, the noise falls away. Then he takes another step closer.

"No," I whisper. Shivering, my heartbeat surges as I hold the shattered candy tightly against my body, to hide it from view. But instead of brandishing his weapon, he leans in and whispers, "Pretend you're still working." I stare up at him, appalled. "Do it," he says sharply in a low voice, and I automatically comply. I push the broken pieces together, my hands shaking so severely it's a wonder they don't break into a hundred more pieces. The guard-he-stands close enough that I can sense his presence. He occasionally looks around, subtly blocking the other guards' view of me. “Why?" I dare to whisper. He says nothing.

Minutes tick by-although by some miracle, no one notices my snapped candy. When the buzzer goes off, I hold my breath for the worst to happen. Instead, the square-guard advances, feigning that he's inspecting the other players. Somehow, I get away.

The dormitory is noisier tonight. Some are cheering, others crying, but I do not think of anything besides him. Why did he save me? Was this some sort of mistake? A test? My head runs with the different connotations, but no sensible fact makes sense. Guards are not supposed to show mercy.

When the lights dim for night, I am awake. I play that moment in my head over and over-the quiet authority in his voice, the way he lingered just long enough to save me. There's just no getting answers, yet I couldn't help my mind from running over and over with thoughts of him.

Sunghoon’s POV

This was reckless.

I lean against the wall of the guard quarters, helmet in my hands, and let my breath out slowly. My heart hasn't stopped racing since I saw them-their trembling hands, the way they froze when their candy broke. I should've ignored it. I should've done my job. But something about the way their eyes widened, filled with fear and determination, stopped me. I don't know why I helped them. It wasn't out of pity. It wasn't out of guilt.

It was them.

I have seen hundreds of players, most of them desperate enough or selfish enough to catch nothing but their own survival. But they're different. I shouldn't be feeling this way. Guards aren't supposed to feel anything. Yet every time I think about their face, my resolve cracks just that little bit more.

If anyone finds out, I'm as good as dead.

But somehow, I just can't seem to care. Tomorrow's another game, another chance to see them. I just hope I can keep my distance.

For both our sakes.

The Next Day

I wake up to this gnawing feeling in my chest. It isn't the ache in my limbs or the exhaustion of staying up all night, reliving the events of the Dalgona game in my head; it's the dread of what comes next.

Another game, another chance to die.

They walk us to the next arena as effectively, coldly, with all the same efficiency of people used to doing a day's labor. My head was down, letting myself just become part of a whole, not standing out too much. The cold-faced, geometric-mask-covered guard statues line the wall opposite. My eyes fly toward each square mask.

Grievously stupid. Insane even-but what did it matter? Had he watched me just then? Was he going to try to save me?

A small part of me wants him to, but the larger part is reminding me of one crucial thing: here, I am on my own. Completely and utterly. Not even him.

Sunghoon’s POV

There they are.

Perched atop the arena above, my eyes find them in a heartbeat. They scan the guards again, their shoulders tense, eyes keen despite the exhaustion clinging to every player out there. I shouldn't watch them. Shouldn't give a damn.

Yet I can't peel my eyes away, though. Still alive, that's what matters.

My grip tightens on the rifle in my hands as the Robotic Female’s voice booms across the arena, announcing the rules for today’s game. I already know what’s coming. Another trial, another bloody mess.

And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure they survive. Even if it means breaking every rule I’ve sworn to follow.

The Tug-of-War Twist

We are brought to a very large outdoors arena, with several platforms towering up to the sky. Ropes traverse atop thick, and beneath these? A fall so long I could hardly see the bottom.

Tug-of-war.

The explanation is simple: teams of ten; whoever wins lives. Losers. well, the fall does the talking. I'm pushed towards a group, and panic bursts in my chest as I realize the dynamics are uneven. None of them appear to be very strong. A few even shake so hard that I don't think they can hold the rope.

This is bad.

The guards line the edges, rifles in place to take out anyone showing even a millisecond of hesitation. My eyes flicker to them out of instinct, and there he is-square guard. His posture is stiff, but his helmet angles toward me as I step on the platform. Is he looking at me?

The thought's cut off by a buzz. And with that, the first match begins. I am horrified as the opposing team pulls with ruthless precision. Losing is being dragged, inch by inch, toward the edge. Their screams echo when the rope jerks once more, sending them plunging into the void.

This isn't just about strength. It's strategy.

When it's our turn, I reach for the rope, my palms already slick with sweat. My team looks hopeless, all whispering prayers and clutching at whatever scraps of courage they can muster. The opposing team, however, is all muscle.

"Pull!" someone yells as the buzzer sounds, and I dig my heels into the platform. The rope's abraded heat against my palms sears the skin as we're yanked forward. Arms scream, legs wobble-it feels like we are seconds away from catastrophe. "Lean back! Use your weight!" someone yells, but it's futile. We're losing so much ground. That's when I saw him.

The square-guard stood near the edge, his head cocked as he watched me. For what feels like an eternity he doesn't move, before finally he moves a step closer and leans on his rifle at his shoulder. I'm stuck until his hand moves after all, and it does really slowly.

It was the signal.

I watch transfixed as his gloved hand takes direction toward the other guys on the opposition side of this platform, then he tap-dances his foot quickly yet small - almost in a blur-close around anchor point holding their ropes steady. My eyes widen.

Is he telling me their side is rigged?

I have no time to think. I lean back with all my strength and yell to my team, "Pull to the left! They're off balance!" The others hesitate but follow my lead, shifting our weight. The opposing team stumbles, losing their footing, and in the chaos, I catch something flicker in the corner of my vision-a quick, subtle motion from his side.

The anchor point snaps.

The opposing team barely has time to act before they're pulled forward, screaming as they tumble into the abyss. We collapse onto the platform, gasping for air. Relief washes through me, tainted with disbelief.

I should be dead.

I glance toward him again but he's already gone, sucked back into the sea of guards. Tonight, I cannot get him out of my mind. The square-guard. The one who has saved me over and over again. No one else is paying any attention to anything but celebration or mourning as I slip into the shadows near the edge of the dormitory. The guards patrol the perimeter, their masks gleaming under the dim lights. And then I see him.

He leans against the wall, a little apart from the others. As I approach him, my heart pounds, and every step sounds louder than it should. "What are you doing?" I whisper. His head snaps toward me, and for a second, I think I have made a mistake. But then he steps forward, his voice low and sharp. "You shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you," I shoot back, emboldened by adrenaline. "You've been helping me. Why?” He hesitates, glancing around before tugging me further into the darkness. "You shouldn't ask questions you don't want answers to," he says. "I think I deserve an answer," I say, crossing my arms over my chest despite the tremble in my hands. "You've saved my life twice. Don't act like that's normal." For a moment, he says nothing. Then, with a sigh, he lifts his mask just enough for me to see his face.

He's younger than I expected. Sharp jawline, intense eyes that seem to pierce right through me. "You stood out," he admits, his voice softer now. "Most people here…they're just trying to survive. But you-" He catches himself, as if he's said too much. "But what?" I press.

“You fight," he says so simply. "Even when you're scared. Even when you shouldn't." The words dangle in the air, between us like a challenge. Heavy, electric. "I don't know why I do these things," he continues more irritably. "But if you wanna stay alive, don't trust me. Don't trust no one." His words shouldn't assure me, and yet suddenly, for the first time since I have been here, I do feel one thing: hope.

"Thanks," I say under my breath. He doesn't answer, but pulls his mask back down and steps away, leaving me in the shadows.

I trudge up the stairs, the fluorescent lights above me flickering with every labored step my legs take. It was mountainous, but I had survived another game, another step closer to whatever hellish end this place had in store. The other players say nothing. Their faces are hollow, their skin pale. No one dares speak anymore. Silence is safer.

I stop on the last step as a guard blocks my path. Square mask. My heart catches. "What's this?" I say, sharper than I mean to. Exhaustion has sucked any tolerance from me. "You're flagged," he says bluntly. "There's suspicion you might be carrying something you shouldn't be. You'll have to be searched." My blood turns cold. Suspicion? Prohibited? “That's crazy," I say, my panic rising into my chest. "I don't have anything-"

"Follow me." There's no request about it. The other players glance my way, their eyes wide and wary, but they don't get involved. They're too frightened to risk drawing attention to themselves. I hesitate, my mind racing. If this is a setup, if they think I've broken a rule, this could be it. This could be my end.

But I have no choice. Taking a deep breath, I follow the guard down a dimly lit corridor and into a bathroom. The sound of the door locking behind me makes me shiver. “Turn around," the guard instructs in a cold, emotionless voice. I do so, my heart racing. "Look," I begin, "I don't know what you think I've done, but-"

"Stop talking.” It cuts through my protest, and there's something about it-something familiar. I turn to face them, my brow furrowing. “What is this?" I ask. "Who are you?" For a moment, they don't respond. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, the guard lifts their mask. My breath catches.

It's him.

The square-guard who's been helping me. The one I thought was gone, fired, or worse-killed for breaking the rules. "You-" I stutter, my voice barely above a whisper. "I had to see you," he says, his voice soft, yet urgent. "I couldn't stay away any longer." I blink, trying to process the rush of emotions-relief, confusion, anger. "I thought you were-what happened to you? Why did you stop-" "I had to lay low," he interrupts. "They were watching me. But I'm still here. I don't know what to say. My mind is racing, torn between gratitude and frustration. “Why did you bring me here?" I ask finally.

His eyes lock with mine, intense and unyielding. “Because I couldn't take it anymore," he says, his voice low, stepping closer. "Watching you risk your life, knowing I couldn't do anything to stop it-it's been driving me insane." I swallow hard, my heart racing as he closes the gap between us. "You shouldn't be doing this," I whisper. "If they find out—"

"I don't care," he says with finality. "I've already broken the rules for you. What's one more?" And before I can say another word, his hands frame my face, and he kisses me. It's not soft or tentative-it's desperate, raw, like he's pouring every ounce of fear and longing into the moment. I'm stuck in a freeze-frame moment for a second, mind whipping. Then I yield and cling to his uniform while kissing him back with every ounce of fierce intensity of my own. The world falls away, and I feel something other than fear for the first time since this nightmare kicked off.

But not for long.

He pulls away, forehead resting against mine, hard breaths mingling between our lips. "I can't protect you anymore," he says, his voice cracking. "Not with what's coming." I search his face, my chest tightening at the pain in his eyes. "You've already done more than enough," I whisper. He shakes his head. "It's not enough. It'll never be enough."

A heavy silence falls between us, and I know this is goodbye. Expect it wasn’t actually, his lips captured mine again, his lips….almost saying they wanted me, needed me. That is until he broke the kiss again, and pinned my back against the cold, colorful tiled wall of the bathroom. His body language seemed like he has longed for the dramatic (sort of) crash of holding me against the wall, kissing me like he was dreaming about this every single minute of the day.

He winced as my nails raked across his back through his pink suit, he probably felt like his outfit was being torn by my nails, which could get us both in trouble if that was actually to happen. He winced again as he took ahold of my wrists and slammed them to the wall in retaliation, wedging his knee between my thighs, which made a gasp leave my lips at the slightest bit of friction I was getting from his thigh.

“Didn’t know you were this desperate for me,” he teased after breaking the heated kiss for the nth time, leaving him and me breathless, panting with saliva connecting us. His low chuckle echoed through the empty, now suffocating bathroom, and making his vampire teeth pop out. “it’s laughable, really. Does the games make you horny?” he teased yet again, raising his thick eyebrows in a way that seemed mockingly, his thigh moving back and forth slightly, earning a whine from my lips as he chuckled like he was enjoying me being teased. “Does your life being on the line make you horny? You sadist bit-“ Pain blistered across Sunghoon’s cheek, he couldn’t help but grin as it sent shockwaves of sensation tearing across his body. Adrenaline hummed through his veins as he hungrily kissed me again, choking me with his gloved hands. I thrashed, ripping at the back of his head by a fistful of hair and biting down hard on his lower lip. Both of our lips were bleeding now, but the metallic tang only made him deepen the kiss even more, greedily trying to taste much of it as possible, masochist much?

“Fucking slut,” He hissed, licking blood and spit from my chin. “You’re a cunt and a dick, a motherfucking cunt and dick sucker.” I hissed back, he chuckled. He fucking chuckled this was all a fucking a circus show for him. “Damn right,” he teased. “But only good girls or boys get their cunts and dicks sucked by me, which isn’t you unfortunately.” he grinned, his hips rolling against my privates, yet again another chuckle slipped from his lips like he enjoyed watching me being frustrated sexually, and I could confirm it just by looking at his eyes that had a glint, a glint of giddiness everytime pain was inflicted upon me.

I hooked my foot behind his knee, forcibly collapsing it. First, he tries making me shit in my pants from coming out of nowhere and telling me that I had to be pat down, makeouts with me, choked me and almost knocked out all of the air in me, calls me names and now his hand is reaching up to my knee to bring me down with him…great. He smirked as he yanked me down onto him, flipping me onto my back and pinning me to the cold floor now instead. He gave just one slow, merciless grind of his hips against mine, and I’m only just realising but…he’s fucking big.

“Who said that…I want you to fucking suck me off or eat me out?” I bit out, nursing my injured lip to keep from moaning as he set out a torturously slow pace through our clothes. “It seems pretty eager to me,” Sunghoon teased, gloved fingertips dipping beneath the waistband of my pants. “I bet I could make you cum in- shit-!” His head smacked harder against the tiles than it should have as I tossed him onto his back, thighs clenched tightly around his hips. The throbbing pain only added to the throbbing pleasure as I rolled my hips. “Just who do you think fucking I am? Just- fuck- just because I’m trying to survive and win doesn’t mean I’m gonna be your fucking bitch.” Sunghoon grinned up at me, I was already flushed bright red and riding his hips with rough, desperate japs of my hips. “Big talk for someone who’s riding me like their life depends on it, ironically.” he snickers. “I can feel you, asshole. You’re in the same situation as I am!” Sunghoon smirked, and in one quick move, he snatched my wrist and rocketed back to his feet, spinning me back around and leaving me face-first against the wall. “You might not be able to kill people like me, and neither I could survive the games you’re playing but god…you’re right, I do want you.” I shuddered at his deep voice. I shifted, legs spreading to support myself better and Sunghoon slotted his knee right between them once more, hands settling on my waist as I got my one free hand between me and the wall, trying to push and give myself some space. I only succeeded in pushing our bodies closer than before, his cock nestled firmly against my ass.

“Let me have you,” Sunghoon purred, squeezing my waist and slowly moving up my sides the way that turned me into putty. I moaned, shuddering again. “Fuck you! If you want me so badly, then come and take it, take me!” well, that is an invitation that Sunghoon hasn’t heard before, even before doing this whole crazy guard thing at a unknown island. He growled, jerking my pants down in a hurry, like he actually couldn’t believe that his dreams are about to come true. I threw my elbow back, but Sunghoon just pinned my wrist back to the wall. “Stop being a fucking brat,” he hissed. I struggled and choking back a moan, feeling the material of his pink suit against my bare ass. “Get your shitty ass outfit outta the way,” I demanded. “Shit feels like sandpaper!” I hissed. “So sensitive and demanding,” he cooed, even as he let me have both hands back to brace myself against the wall. Sunghoon didn’t dare to move back and give me an opening to escape, only reaching up to unzip his suit and free himself, mostly his cock that was strained against the fabric and begging for friction as it twitched in his underwear. I adjusted, leaning away long enough for Sunghoon to free himself. “If you were me, you’d complain too!” I hissed. “Yeah, yeah, stop running your big mouth. You want it or not?” he rolled his eyes, his suit and underwear failing to his ankles as he leaned forward, completely trapping me between him and the cold wall, his bare cock resting just on my ass, just right where I needed him, so far yet so close. “I told you you fucking idiot, just take it-“ Sunghoon couldn’t help but thrust all of his cock in one go. Making me moan out loud at the blissful pain from the thrust.

For Sunghoon, you were a wet dream come true to life; Sunghoon’s cock glided through you without resistance, soft and slick, tightening only as he rutted against a known sweet spot along your walls. I moaned, arching my back, wrapping tightly around him. He groaned in response, leaning over me, his hands covering mine, fingers almost interlocked. The sweat on my neck left a layer of salt on Sunghoon’s tongue, but beneath it was nothing but you. Sunghoon muffled his own moans against my throat, sucking and biting his way down to my shoulders. I turned my head, covering my mouth with the inside of my elbow as he fucked me against the wall. Sunghoon hiked me up onto my tiptoes, leaning back to appreciate the view, your skin glistened with sweat under the fluorescent lights. “…Please, I’m close da- fuck-!” your words and moans rang loud in his ears, in the bathroom, the silence sharpening your cries. They acted as pokers to the hot coals of fire in the pit of Sunghoon’s stomach, making him embarrassed over how loud you were, neither was the wet and loud sound of skin smacking was making it any better. If any of his fellow guards were outside or just a tad bit close to the bathroom, he’s fucked and killed to death alongside with you.

That is when Sunghoon got an idea, an idea that satisfies his other personality, the one that was created whilst being here for a very long time that he has lost sense of time, and that is fear. He lives off of the idea of goosebumps appearing on the player’s skins just before he kills them, and in this case, while he’s fucking them and practically making them cock-drunk from his stroke game. Sunghoon leaned down and grabbed his long forgotten, abandoned pistol on the floor, aiming the barrel at your forehead, and with that his thrusts became harder, sloppier but you…you were terrified. Terrified on why there’s a gun to your head suddenly, is he going to kill you after using you like a worthless, lifeless sexdoll? Is that what’s going to happen? You couldn’t lie to yourself because the thought kinda turned you on and made you wetter even more, because you wouldn’t mind being his sexdoll if his cock was constantly inside you and making you go brainless. “Stop moaning like a whore unless you want me to pull the trigger right now, and kill you before they find us.” he threatened lowly in my ear, licking and bitting as he tried to muffle his own sounds. By now, you knew you looked pathetic with your eyes red, red and snotty nose as tears stained and wet your flushed cheeks as you began to bite onto your ragged and bloody jacket, trying to keep quiet because as much as it turned you on at the thought of dying on his dick, but you valued your life at the moment because, living longer equals bouncing on his dick for even more before you die.

Sunghoon barely managed to pull out on time, painting his pleasure all over your ass. He grinned at the realisation that you were still haven’t even came yet, still hanging on the edge as he lowered his pistol and patted his gloved hand on your ass, watching it jiggle with the motion of his hand, giggling to himself as he brought his head up and was met with the sight of you, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed at him. “Get your own self off, brat.” he teased, putting on his suit back and mask, giving you one last cocky glance before he makes sure he looks presentable in the mirror and walks out on you, leaving you frustrated at him, at not being pleasured enough, at the games, and yourself because behind his handsome looks, he’s actually just like the other guards, ruthless and cold.

The Final Game

The days blur all together.

The games are getting more brutal, and the players, myself included, are growing desperate. Every moment feels like a race against time, against fate. The tension among the remaining participants is palpable. We’ve all become numbers now, not people—just pawns in a game that doesn’t care about our lives. The final game is announced, and my heart skips a beat.

It's the one everybody's afraid of: the glass bridge.

We line up in a row, one behind the other, in front of the two routes laid out before us, each comprising several glass panels, some strong and some weak. We had to walk over them and choose appropriate ones to cross or plunge to death. A shiver runs down my spine as the first few players go up front, and what happened was inevitable. One after another, they fall. Screams pierce the cold air, but clear had been the instruction from the guard that no one was to move unless his turn came upon him. Just as I'm about to take my first step, I suddenly feel. something.

It's him.

The square-guard above watches on, his eyes tracking my every movement, and for a split second, our gazes meet. The connection is brief, but it's enough. I don't know what to make of it, but something in the way he watches me is different. There's something in his eyes-something almost…regretful.

It's my turn.

I step onto the bridge, my legs trembling as creaks come from within the glass as my body weight presses down upon it. The first few steps are just fine. My luck has to turn sometime. The crack starts to give under me and I freeze. I looked back, and that is when I see it-something shifting in Sunghoon's posture. Moving.

Too late.

Balance is lost.

I heard him scream my name-my real name, not a number-and did not care. I fell. This was a never-ending fall. The world spun and the only thing I was aware of was air rushing in as I dropped with the pretty firm knowledge I'd not live to cry out.

And then, there was nothing.

Sunghoon's POV

The world is silent.

I stand in stock-stillness, my heartbeat the only sound of the drumbeat as their body disappears into the void below, and with every shattered piece of me. I should have. I should have—

My fist slams against the metal wall. Its echo rings out into that space. Why didn't I act sooner? Why couldn't I pull them back? Why couldn't I protect?

I close my eyes, the guilt suffocating me. This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to feel this way. But here I am, crushed under the weight of it, the weight of my failure. I should never have gotten involved. I should never have helped them.

But I couldn't stop myself.

And now…

I failed.

I failed them.

The game goes on, but Sunghoon's mind is a maelstrom.

The rest of the players are like shadows, their faces hollow with fear and exhaustion. To Sunghoon, however, time has stopped. He stares at the rest of the players, his eyes searching among them for any sign of the one he couldn't protect. Every step weighs too much to be taken. Every decision he makes feels like a mistake. And when the final buzzer goes off, he barely hears it.

It's the end of the day now, and it doesn't matter anymore.

The only thing filling Sunghoon's head is the weight of his own guilt. The others are rejoicing, but his mind is consumed by you-your face, your eyes, and the time you spent together. He had never gotten the chance to say goodbye.

And he never will.

[laurettelarue]

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Just in case you want to buy me someting nice: My Lovense toy wishlist

[softtaemu]

To All the Fics I love(d) Before

Links to fics, blurbs and others for my own (and maybe, others) enjoyment | don't be afraid to message me if you want something taken down or if i typed something wrong !!

i love all the authors here pls make more content especially my dick, jason, poe and pines author pls pls

some of these i don't really remember but i made a rule to myself where if i truely enjoy a fic it goes into my liked folder

so what if they're mostly smut,,,

🍄 for my favs hehe

Poe Dameron

I. Mercy, Sabotage, And Dead Space 🍄

II. Rumors, Freebies, And a Race for Last Place - @no-droids 🍄

Give Me My Sin Again - @brandyllyn

Feels Right - @jake-g-lockley

The Hating Game - @light-yaers 🍄

The Heart of a Ship - @im-poe-dameron

Seeds of Love - @moonlight-prose

Aphelion Duology - @oscarseyebrow

Running to You - @dailyreverie

Deft Hands - @eyelessfaces

Better Safe Than Sorry Series - @eyelessfaces

Favor - @eyelessfaces

Stripper!Poe - @youvebeenlivingfictional

Directions - @zinzinina

Got it Bad - @sinisterexaggerator

The Idea of You - @st4rymoon

Sex pollen - @eyelessfaces

For Your Entertainment - @melodygatesauthor

Miguel O'Hara

Pequeña - @that-sokovian-bastardkovian 🍄

The Ideal Gaze - @bluesidez

Starved - @honestsycrets 🍄

Back Massages - @wyvernest

Love Drunk - @bruisedboys

Baker!reader x miguel fluff - @bruisedboys (untitled)

Love Bite - @madschiavelique

Touch - @loganlermanstanaccount 🍄

College roommated Miguel - @loganlermanstanaccount 🍄 (i'd put all their miguel fics but im too lazy)

Once Upon a December - @mrs-lockley

Churn - @luvrxbunny

Nerds During Exams ?? - @obxsprincess (untitled)

Dad bod!Miguel - @cupcakeinat0r

Miguel going beastmode in bed - @tired-biscuit

Honey-Sweet - @fettuccin-e 🍄

Next Door - @cherryredstars

Insoportable - @ovaryacted

Between Your Thighs - @intoxicated-chan

Miguel Love Strong Women - @sillysillygoofygoose

Take My Breath - @whatthefishh

Shower Sex - @miguel-ohara-lover

Let Me Wrap My Teeth - @psychedelic-ink

Tired Miguel eats you out - @dilfartist

Breeding kink - @buryustogether

Amazing Head - @loganlermanstanaccount 🍄

This Series - @devilfic

Convergence & Webs of Opacity- @runa-falls (to read)

Dick Grayson

Help Me, Help You - @tetzoro

Written All Over Your Face - @roturo

A very freaky blurb - @hanasnx (untitled)

Freaky bfb! grayson - @killakalx (untitled)

Shameless smut grayson - @liciaarchives (untitled)

Squirting (as a friend) bsf!dick - @killakalx (untitled)

Sex Pollen Dick - @uc1wa (untitled)

Sex Pollen Dick again - @martiniluvr (untitled)

Jason Todd

Dick Pic! Jason - @dxckgrxsonx (this isn't finished idk if it'll get continued pls do ella pls pls) 🍄

Big eyes Big dick blurb - @dxckgrxsonx

Jason's in charge - @martiniluvr (untitled)

Restroom Attendant - @sanguineterrain

My Lady, Oh Sorceress - @e-nonsense

Jason overstims himself - @dxckgrxsonx

I'll Prove It - @dxckgrxsonx

Bruce Wayne

Right Place, Right Time Series - @devilfic

Honeymoon Series - @devilfic

Sugar on the Rim - @mostly-imagines

Cape stealer fluff - @devilfic (untitled)

Bruce Being Cockblocked- @c-nstantine

Nocturnal Animal - @devilfic

Joel Miller

You Owe Me Series - @tofics 🍄

Texas Sweet - @coquettepascal (if i had a nickel for every back massage smut i had in this list i'd have two nickels) 🍄

Wild Like the West - @hellishjoel

Heavenly Bound - @ozarkthedog

Head Lightning - @shellshocklove

Honey-Do - @kiwisbell

A Matter of Time - @thriftedtchotchkes

Pretty in Pink - @lincolndjarin

Javier Pena

Whatever My Wife Wants - @javierpena-inatacvest

Not so Secret Santa - @lincolndjarin

Plans - @wayfaringhoax

Have You Ever Seen the Rain - @psychedelic-ink

Tu Sonrisa - @tokkiwrites 🍄

Constructive Critisism - @lincolndjarin

Moonknight Boys

What You Like - @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction (marc backseating steven so) Hand Covers Mouth - @juneknight

Steven Grant

Dry Humping - @eyelessfaces

Marc Spector (i ong love love me some dorm!marc content)

Precum Dorm! Marc - @juneknight

Dorm!Marc drabble - @juneknight

Obsessed - @juneknight 🍄

Accidental Stimulation - @spicyllewyn

Beneath His Breath - @juneknight

Jake Lockley

Stan Pines

Snapshots Series - @moonieandi 🍄

SPECIAL MENTIONS (RANDOM EDITION)

Mixed p eating (gotham ppl) - @killakalx

I'd watch him lick it off - @killakalx

@Cherryredstars' whole ass masterlist (bookedmarked cause i wanna read more)

The Legend of Mar'sol Series - @sirowsky Mandalorian x reader

Free use Miguel - @runa-falls

The Inn (witcher) - ao3

Sirowsky's masterlist

Siren - @chvoswxtch

[st4rtar0t]

Describing your first kiss with your future lover as a writer 🙈

Pick a picture

Picture one

The music plays softly in the background as you lean in, the air crackles with an anticipation only found in that moment before lips meet. The kiss promises comfort, a reassurance in the warmth that envelops both of you. Your partner's embrace offers a sanctuary, a safe space amidst the chaotic world. Passion ignites as your lips connect, a fiery dance born of unspoken desires. The kiss speaks of a raw, intense longing, drawing upon the depth of emotion shared between you. It's not just a meeting of mouths; it's a convergence of souls, each expressing an unyielding ardor that sets your heart ablaze. Yet, amidst this fervor, there's an undeniable strength, a sense of unwavering determination felt in the way your partner holds you close. It's a silent declaration that no matter what challenges arise, together, you can conquer them. The kiss is a testament to resilience, an affirmation of unity in the face of any storm. In the exchange, there's also a note of caution, a tender awareness that each touch is a precious gift. It's as if the kiss acknowledges the fragile nature of the heart, proceeding with a gentle reverence for the vulnerability you both share. The kiss lingers, not just in the meeting of lips but in the emotional resonance it leaves behind—the promise of support, the depth of desire, the fortitude of unity, and the delicate balance of tender caution.

Key words: passion, a little sprinkle of obsession, caring, fearing they would break you, meeting after longing for eachother.

Picture two

As you stand there, your heart races with an amalgamation of emotions, a fusion of fear and love, almost tangible in the charged air. Your eyes lock onto theirs, drawn in by an overwhelming sense of connection, a powerful ideation stirring within. The atmosphere around you seems to glow with an ethereal illumination, as if the universe itself is rooting for this moment to happen. Your trembling hand reaches out, tentatively seeking theirs, fingers entwining like the interlocking of a complex puzzle, signaling the unspoken courage that blossoms from deep within. The touch ignites a cascade of sensations, an inexplicable energy coursing through your veins, merging fear with a newfound strength, propelling you forward. The close proximity sends a surge of anticipation through both of you, the unspoken desire palpable. Your breaths synchronize in a symphony of shared emotion, a dance of hesitant yet eager hearts. The moment hangs suspended, almost frozen in time, a poignant pause before the inevitable. And then, with a tender yet determined closeness, your lips meet, a convergence of feelings that surpasses words. It's a kiss that serves as a sanctuary, a moment of cleansing where doubts and worries dissipate, replaced by a flood of pure emotion. In that timeless embrace, fears melt away, overcome by the gentle, reassuring strength of the shared affection. The kiss lingers, neither hurried nor prolonged, a gentle exploration of each other's soul, each second deepening the bond between you. It's a delicate dance, a silent conversation of passion and understanding, each movement, each sensation revealing a layer of vulnerability, a layer of trust. As you pull away, a sense of peace settles within, akin to the stillness after a storm. The kiss, an exquisite manifestation of love, lingers in the air, a testament to the courage to face fears, the strength to surrender to love, and the realization that in each other's arms, there exists a sanctuary where the mind finds solace and the heart finds its true home.

Keywords: opposite attract, roses, mixed race , hazel eyes , red spider lily, Japan, dark skin, formal attire.

Picture three

The moon shone brightly seemingly proud of your union , the air is filled with an electric tension, echoing the love that binds your souls. The world that has rejected your love long forgotten. The soft breeze carries whispers of determination, as both of you lean in, hearts pounding in unison, ready to embark on this intimate moment. Your eyes meet, reflecting the abundance of emotion, a reservoir overflowing with passion and devotion. With a gentle yet resolute touch, your hands intertwine, a symbolic gesture of success and unity. As your lips finally meet, there's a seamless flow between you, a dance of affectionate exchange that mirrors the synchronized rhythm of your hearts. The kiss holds the essence of intuition, each movement guided by an unspoken understanding, a silent language known only to the two of you. It's not just a meeting of two souls; it's a fusion of dreams and desires. Your courage to express your love intertwines with the richness of emotions, creating a moment that transcends time. In this shared embrace, the world fades away, leaving only the intensity of the present, where your love knows no boundaries and your hearts beat as one.

Keywords: you are written into the song of my soul, messages, divine feminine, leo, 02:02, 2323, libra.

[kiestrokes]

Day 3: Tell Me What to Do | NSFW

▸ Idol: Bang Chan of Stray Kids ▸ Rating: NSFW. Mature (18+) Minors DNI. ▸ Genre: active WIP, hired escort, smut, college au. ▸ Vibe: set in 2008, reader/OC (tbd) was on a lacrosse scholarship when she got severely injured, in order to continue attending she has resorted to charging the rich nerds that need a little additional sex education. Chan is the friend of Felix (one of her favorite clients) that hires her, although she is unsure as to why...he's incredibly likeable and attractive. They discover his issues and sexual hangups together. ▸ Warnings: probably some cussing, illusions to feelings.

Sexually Explicit Content: this is a smut excerpt that happens quite a bit later in the actual story! semipublic sex, Chan has reserved a private single studio for the evening, female ejaculation? squirting, intercourse (penis in vagina), clit stim, fingering, aftercare, dirty talk?

🗝️ Note: Like every other 2008 alt kid, metro station had a chokehold on me. Kinda a spin on the Avril Lavigne lyrics too "he was a punk, she did ballet" as Chan is our ballerina. This Chan has just been living rent free see May or June of this year, but I had other things I wanted (and still need to) complete. Just a reminder this is a WIP, it is not close to the finished product this is actually the first draft of this scene!

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted below.

「 25 Hours: Hard, Soft and WIP-mas Masterlist 」

Chan has her bent over the ballet bar moaning as he fucks her slow from behind, “shit this is so good.”

“You can speed up.”

“Do I have to?”

“No,” you groan as he circles his hips.

“You like this right?”

“Yes!” You bite your lip, “fuck Chan I don’t think you need my help.”

His hand slips to your stomach, “maybe I just like fucking you.”

He speeds up making you moans climb in volume.

“Think you like fucking me too/” he thrusts hard, “right?”

“Fuck, yes, whatever Channie.”

Your eyebrows converge as he presses your stomach and quickens his stroke.

“Right there?”

His eyes find yours in the mirror and you almost come on the spot. Chan bites his lip, head tossing back as your body clamps down around him.

“Go ahead.”

You try to fight it off but he braces the other hand on the small of you back, sandwiching you between his palms. His hips pistoning until you’re crying out. Coming hard, arousal leaking down your legs and onto the floor.

“Fuck,” you gasp as you catch your breath.

Chans hands move to grip your hips, thrusts having slowed to help you come down. Slowly losing himself in the feel of you.

“You squeezed me so hard, did it feel good?”

“What do you think?”

Your body shake as he continues his journey to release, folding over your back to whisper in your ear.

“I think you want another.”

Your spine snaps your sagging body upright as he rubs almost harshly into the front wall of your cunt.

“Ngh Chan,” you grasp at his hands as his lips suck on your neck.

“You made a mess.”

You simply whine at him.

“Can I come on you?”

“Fuck Chan, yes.”

He moans picking up pace then he’s folding you over the bar again. Chan pulls out to rip off the condom and thrusts back inside you.

“Holy shit,” you say in unison.

“God you feel good.”

“Don’t come inside, birth control only prevents so much ahh-” you break off into a gasp.

“I won’t, oh wow, you’re so wet.”

Your brain errors at the feel of him raw, the skin to skin contact creating more drag along the sensitive nerves of your intimate walls. Chan is not doing much better.

He pulls out before you’re ready and comes on your back. His tongue tracing his top teeth in amazement as he sprays you.

You gasp, “ok back in.”

“What?”

You catch his panic gaze through your orgasm driven haze in the mirror but you brush it off. Nobody had ever made you come as hard as Chan and you were close to a level of addiction at this point.

“I’m so close,” you pant.

Chan thinks quickly, shoving two fingers inside you to the knuckle. Your head snaps back at the feeling and roll you hips back into him. Chan working his fingers the way you’ve taught him. Fingers curling slightly after a steady rhythm was established.

“Ahhh yes, yes!”

Chan reaches around to strum your clit with your other hand, and like that you’re go, over the edge.

“Oh god,” your knees buckle as you soak his hand, and he holds you up with a surprised laugh.

© COPYRIGHT 2021 - 2024 by kiestrokes  All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be reproduced without written permission from the author. This includes translations.

[jxwl4k]

Sparks Ignite

Plot: Katsuki Bakugo and Y/N L/N are known for their intense rivalry, their constant bickering and competitive spirit are a source of both amusement and frustration for their classmates and teachers until, their rivalry evolves into a simple relationship.

pt.2

In the prestigious halls of UA High, where aspiring heroes honed their skills, there existed an electrifying rivalry between Katsuki Bakugo and Y/N L/N. Their dynamic was a constant clash of wills and ideologies, reminiscent of two raging storms converging. Y/N, possessing a demeanor akin to Todoroki's calm exterior but paired with a sharp tongue, never hesitated to voice their thoughts, especially when Bakugo's explosive temperament was concerned.

One crisp autumn morning found them in the bustling cafeteria, surrounded by their classmates enjoying breakfast. Bakugo, as always, was sitting at a table in a corner, glaring at the world as if daring anyone to challenge him. Y/N, not one to back down, sauntered over with a tray in hand and dropped into the seat across from him.

"You're glaring again, Bakugo," Y/N remarked casually, stirring their coffee. "Did you forget to blow something up this morning?"

Bakugo snorted, his expression darkening. "You're one to talk, Ice Cube. Don't you have some glacier to melt?"

Their classmates exchanged knowing looks, accustomed to the duo's banter that could rival any action-packed showdown. As Y/N and Bakugo continued their verbal sparring, the atmosphere around them seemed to hum with anticipation, half expecting an explosion that would rock the cafeteria.

Later that day, during a break between classes, Y/N found themselves in the same empty classroom as Bakugo, both reviewing notes from the morning's lecture. The tension between them crackled like static electricity, waiting for the slightest spark to ignite.

"You know," Y/N began, breaking the silence, "you might actually be tolerable if you weren't so obsessed with proving you're the best."

Bakugo scoffed, his hands clenched into fists. "And you might be less annoying if you weren't always criticizing every move I make."

Y/N leaned back in their chair, a small smirk playing on their lips. "But where's the fun in that? Someone has to keep you in check, Bakugo."

He glared at them, his crimson eyes narrowing. "I don't need anyone to keep me in check. Least of all you."

Their argument was interrupted by the arrival of their classmates, who entered the classroom and immediately sensed the charged atmosphere. Mina Ashido, ever the cheerful soul, chirped, "Whoa, guys, are we interrupting something?"

"Nope," Y/N replied smoothly, shooting Bakugo a pointed look. "Just discussing the finer points of hero strategy."

Bakugo muttered something unintelligible under his breath, his usual bravado momentarily subdued. The class exchanged amused glances, accustomed to the volatile but strangely magnetic relationship between Y/N and Bakugo.

As weeks turned into months, their bickering continued, becoming a familiar soundtrack to life at UA. Yet, beneath the constant clash of egos, a grudging respect began to emerge. They found themselves gravitating towards each other during training sessions, their strategies complementing rather than conflicting.

One rainy afternoon, while sparring in the training grounds, Bakugo threw a punch that Y/N deftly dodged. "Too slow, Bakugo," they taunted, a playful grin on their face.

He gritted his teeth, his palms sparking with frustration. "Shut up and fight, Ice Cube."

Their classmates watched from the sidelines, half expecting the training grounds to erupt into chaos. Instead, they witnessed a synchronized dance of skill and determination, a silent acknowledgment passing between Y/N and Bakugo as they fought side by side.

Afterward, as they walked back to the dormitories together, Y/N glanced at Bakugo out of the corner of their eye. "You know, for someone who claims to hate my guts, you don't mind teaming up with me."

Bakugo grunted, his expression unreadable. "Don't get used to it. I just tolerate your presence because you're marginally less useless than the rest of these extras."

Y/N chuckled, bumping shoulders with him lightly. "High praise, coming from you."

Their classmates, trailing behind them, exchanged bewildered glances. Kirishima, unable to contain his curiosity any longer, ventured, "Hey, Y/N, Bakugo, are you two... friends now?"

Bakugo and Y/N exchanged a look, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them before Bakugo gruffly replied, "We're not friends, shitty hair. Just... rivals who tolerate each other."

Y/N smirked, shaking their head. "Sure, Bakugo. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

And so, amidst the chaos and camaraderie of UA High, Katsuki Bakugo and Y/N found themselves navigating a path from bitter rivals to reluctant allies—perhaps even something more, though neither would admit it aloud.

[izzabela]

Can you write about Syzoth trying to kiss the reader but he's so nervous because he hasn't kissed someone in a long time? ☺️

Kiss the Girl - Syzoth x fem!reader (4+1)

in which Syzoth tries to kiss his dragonfly four times, and the one time he gets it right

a/n: shalalalalala my oh my

ship[s]: syzoth x fem!reader

warning(s): silly lizard boy learning how to kiss again, various moments within the mk1 2023 kanon

You and Syzoth had been dating for a year now, but due to the trauma of the loss of his first family, intimacy was hard for Syzoth. Thank the elder gods you were so patient with him.

And thanks to your patience, Syzoth feels he's ready to make it official with a kiss!

Except... he's a tad bit nervous.

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

1 - Sunbathing

You and Syzoth lay atop a boulder together, the warmth from the rock and the sun filling your bodies up and relaxing you.

With nothing to do, no chores or training, you and Syzoth wanted some private time together. Why not sunbathe?

As you lay there quietly, occasional sighs and breaths of relaxation heard, Syzoth stares at you longingly and worriedly.

He wants to kiss you, really badly too.

You patience with him was what he needed to build courage to overcome his trauma of love and intimacy, but now that he feels ready, his mind plagues him with thoughts of failure and fear.

What if he misses? What if you don't like it? What if, what if, what if. It was exhausting for him, and the only way to get rid of it right now was him squirming and shifting in his spot.

He's also thinking of Johnny's advice- Just go for it! (no, Johnny, it's not that simple)

You rise a bit, adjusting yourself on your belly and arms crossed over one another as your head rests on your forearms. Syzoth tries to make it look like he wasn't moving, but you chuckle.

"You're not very good at lying, Sy," you mumble with a lazy smile.

Syzoth holds your face with his right arm, thumb rubbing over your cheek as you lean into his touch.

Alright, go for it! Syzoth hypes himself up, lips moving closer to his beloved dragonfly's very own.

You also close your eyes, smiling faintly because the moment has finally arrive for you- Syzoth's kiss with you.

Just as he's about to go for it, a faint buzzing noise is heard around him. To your human ears, it's extremely quiet, but to him it's like a gnat buzzing around his head.

Syzoth's eyes are shifting like lightning, and he's fighting for his life that his primal instincts don't take over.

Sigh, poor Syzoth lost still. The little thing landed on your other cheek, and his inner lizard won as his reflexes took over. His wet tongue slapped over the fly, and you open your eyes in shock.

Syzoth ate the fly quickly, but that doesn't erase the fact he messed up. Thank goodness you were such a good sport about it.

You bursted out laughing, no longer drowsy as you wipe the faintest bit of saliva off your cheek. You slide off the rock in a fit of hysterics, wiping your tears as Syzoth is helplessly trying to wipe your face.

"Oh darling, you kill me," you say after calming down.

You walk away and Syzoth stands there, shoulders down with hunched posture as he conjures up a new plan.

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

2 - Post-Training Clean Up

You, Syzoth, and Raiden were in charge of cleaning up the dummies as part of evening chores before dinner.

The tournament may be over, and the timeline convergence was over, but that didn't mean the danger has passed. All of Liu Kang's champions needed to stay sharp.

"Sharpness also lies in discipline," Liu Kang told you all before ending training for the day. "Those on chore duty are tasked with fulfilling them with diligence and tenacity."

AKA, finish your chores or else.

Chores are usually hell if Johnny or Kung Lao was partnered with you, but thank goodness it was Raiden and Syzoth this time. And speaking of Syzoth, he seemed to be following you around lately.

Perhaps it's because he loves you, or perhaps it has something to do with the rock incident. Most likely the latter, but you didn't press because Syzoth is really trying hard to make you happy.

You were carrying bamboo bo staffs by the dozen, while Syzoth carried dummies. He was in lizard form, so a huge green lizard was just following you while swishing his tail happily.

Every piece of training equipment was to be put back in a huge storage shed in the corner of the courtyard. As you and Syzoth carried your stuff, Raiden came out from the room. His hat was off as he wiped sweat off his forehead.

"Be careful in there," Raiden warns with a smile. "The door is hard to open if it shuts completely. If you close it gently, it will not lock."

Syzoth nods, a huff coming out of his nose. You smile in reciprocation as well, "Thanks for the tip, Raiden!"

You set the bo staffs down and open the door. Syzoth gets in first, and you carry the bo staffs again to put them back inside. The shed was massive inside, and there were spaces to hold everything in its place. To make sure you two weren't locked in, you held the door open with a loose rock at the corner.

As you walked in, you lost grip on one of the staffs you were balancing. It slipped, and it knocked on the rock you used to hold the door open. The door shut, and you two drop everything to try and open it.

"Oh dang it," you curse yourself. "I'm sorry, love. I got us locked in here..." While Syzoth was externally sad, he was jumping in his soul.

Ever since the rock incident, Syzoth has been trying to find out how to kiss you again. He had gotten advice from Raiden this time around, the thunder-wielding lad telling him to seize a moment of vulnerability (with consent, of course).

Syzoth gently puts the dummies away, then grabs the staffs you dropped and puts them back carefully as you continue to bang on the door to signal for help.

Unknown to you, Raiden had already left the courtyard since the staffs and dummies were the last of the items to be put away. So all that ruckus you were causing was futile.

"Ugh, no one can hear us! Damn it!" you curse, kicking your foot into the old, yet oddly strong, door. Syzoth just grabs your shoulder, rubbing them up and down as he pulls you into a hug.

You can't help but relax in them, and you breathe a sigh of comfort and relaxation as you inhale the natural scent of your lover. He smells like the outside, but in a dewy grass type of way. Combined with the lingering scent of maple wood, he smells heavenly.

"Do you feel better?" he asks, tilting your head up to face his eyes. You nod and smile happily, and he kisses your cheek gently. When he pulls away though, his eyes become a little hooded, and his face is closing in on yours.

Ah, again, you think as your eyes close. You wait patiently for his lips to contact yours, to feel the warmth of him on you as he finally gives you a kiss.

However, you both stop and pull away, looking at the door as you see two metal curvatures on each hinge, pulling on the door as the creaking gets progressively louder and louder. Syzoth pulls you behind him, transforming into his lizard form to protect you.

"There you two are!" Kung Lao says excitedly, kicking away the pieces of wood that fell and broke from impact. "We have been looking for you everywhere!"

Johnny's behind him, wiggling his brows as he throws an arm around Kenshi, who stands next to him.

"Seems they were perfectly content in here though," he says suggestively, and Kenshi knocks the back of his head.

Syzoth groans, shifting back into his human form and taking your hand, leading you away from their stares and Johnny's inappropriate whooping and cheering.

So much for the second try...

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

3 - Private Dinner

You lay on Syzoth's shoulder as you two sat together on a picnic blanket over the grass.

Syzoth asked you out on a date, and by date it was a private dinner away from the canteen hall. With training occupying most of your guys' time, dates with total intimacy were hard to come by.

With exceptional planning though, Syzoth managed to step up and pull this gig off. Now, he has his favorite food in front of him while his favorite dragonfly sits next to him.

What more could a shifter want? Oh yeah, to get his fucking kiss right.

According to human terms, third time is a charm. Syzoth made all of this effort to take you away from the bustle and cacophony of men's antics of the canteen, and now the opportunity of a lifetime sits in front of him.

You take a big bite out of your rice bowl, gnawing on the beef that is so rarely served. You moan at the way it melts in your mouth, savoring the fatty flavor of the meat.

You got some sauce on the side of your lip, and Syzoth lifts his thumb to wipe it off quickly. You look at him with a quirked brow.

"Swuave, darling," you say cooly. Syzoth rolls his eyes playfully, cupping your cheeks as he pulls you closer to him. You carefully put your bowl down, not wanting to waste the food you had.

There's a glimmer of confidence in his eyes as you push his hood back and on the nape of his neck. His eyes relax just a tad, and you can feel the air around you two shift once more.

He's doing it for real this time! You squeal internally, closing your eyes as you can feel the warm breath of Syzoth fan gently over your lips.

Though, Syzoth's eyes still remain partially open. Thank goodness your eyes were closed, because Syzoth did not want you to look at the obvious tweak-out he was having. You were right here, lips puckered out and awaiting his. He did everything right, and yet, he did not push through.

Sighing, Syzoth melts into your shoulder and rests his head there, nuzzling into the little crevice he so perfectly fit in. You open your eyes, and you look down with a gentle smile and an even more genteel look.

"My apologies, dragonfly..." he whimpers. "I just.. I-" You shush him, quieting him with soothing pats on his head.

"There there, dear. It takes time," you assure him, and he nuzzles in deeper (if possible).

Though Syzoth might have been fine momentarily, he realizes that this third time did not work.

Now, he's wondering if luck exists outside the common (human) rule of threes.

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

4 - Infirmary

You lay on the linen sheets quietly, staring at the ceiling as the wooden fan on the ceiling spun annoyingly slow.

You had gotten injured during this month's mini tournament. No, it wasn't to prepare for another cross-realm kombat tournament, it was just a new ritual Liu Kang implemented.

Just to keep his champions sharp, nothing too high stakes.

If it wasn't high stakes, why the hell was your forehead bandaged and wrapped up like a mummy? Seriously, Kung Lao needs to learn how to chill out.

As you lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling waiting for the hours to drone by, stomping could be heard outside. You could also hear the soft gasps and scurried steps of other people- like they were moving out of the way.

Through the door, Syzoth came through in his reptilian form. His pupils were skinny, dilated in anger as he huffs and finds his beloved. When he makes contact with you, his face softens and relaxes.

In the blink of an eye, he switches into his human form and is on his knees in front of you. You don't wanna laugh, nor smile, but the way he's hold your cheeks and squishing them like a stress ball.

"Oh dear... dragonfly what," he's breathing a bit hard, gently rubbing the bandaged area with his thumb. "Dragonfly, are you alright?"

You nod, kissing his forehead, "I'm alright Sy. It's no big deal, just a scratch." But Syzoth doesn't look convinced.

"You are hurt. You dod not look good, tired," he says softly. You give him a playful smile.

"Maybe a kiss will help," you probe him, and you can see him visibly stiffen. "O-only if you want! No rush..."

Still, Syzoth does his best. He sits on your bed, hands holding your face as he begins with a kiss on your head. Then, he gently kisses the bandaged spot.

A feathery kiss on your nose, gentle taps on your cheeks. The lightest touch over your eyelids. He's pouring love all over you, yet the one spot he hasn't makes him nervous.

You look at him after his parade of love, eyes creased gently as Syzoth's are still closed. He leans in slowly, and you close your eyes again to wait for impact. Except it doesn't come.

Opening your eyes again (what a guy, huh?), you see Syzoth just staring at you. His brows are furrowed and confused, and you can feel his hands shaking as he still holds your face.

"I... uh... I do not believe I have your cure..." Syzoth says sadly, letting go of your face as he prepares to leave the room. You stop him though, gently tugging him back with his wrist.

"I have the cure just enough," you play along. "Perhaps a stronger dosage next time."

Syzoth smiles again, scooting close to you as he takes you in his arms, and you two cuddle and talk quietly about the things that happened during your day.

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

+1 - Trip to Outworld

Because of Syzoth's double duties to the imperial crown and to Liu Kang, he often travels between the realms to do his jobs. You're not usually free, but for once you had some time.

Syzoth had to return back to Outworld because Empress Mileena had something important for Syzoth to deliver to one of the provinces up north. It had lined up with a planned break you had, and you told Syzoth you had time.

For four days, you explored Outworld- well, the capital. You weren't allowed to travel with him to wherever he was going, but you were promised a tour with protection.

The first day you had Syzoth to yourself as he showed you around the city. From the expensive homes in the upper-sides of the capital, to the busy streets of the main area where the tourist traps and street food are.

When Syzoth was gone for the next two days, the palace guard's leader, Tanya, personally showed you around. Something about the Empress saying 'his friend is our friend'- yeah, along the lines of that.

And now, your last day in Outworld. It was late at night, and you were tossing and turning to find the perfect spot to knock out and sleep. Unfortunately, you came up empty-handed. Even worse, Syzoth woke up.

"Oh, Sy? I'm so sorry, love, I didn't mean to wake you," you apologize and kiss his forehead. He rubs his eyes, shaking his head tiredly as he scoot closer to you.

"'M not..." a yawn, "I'm not tired, dragonfly..." he gets up completely this time, stretching his arms as a few grunts and little stretch noises were made.

"Would you like to walk with me?" he asks, and you grab his hand to stop him from leaving the bed. Syzoth insists, however.

"It will wear you down, tire you more," he convinces, and you get up and throw on an extra shirt over your sleeping dress.

Leaving the hotel room, the streets of Sun Do look like a new world when there isn't a river of people trying to fit in with the flow of getting place to place. When they aren't fighting for your attention with fake wares and dinky souvenirs.

And above you, the stars shone brightly against the blackness of the sky. The perfect backdrop for a midnight stroll.

"Sun Do, the palace, and everywhere else... Outworld is magnificent," you compliment Syzoth's home world.

"It is indeed a beautiful place," Syzoth agrees. "Though, I find home much better when you are present."

You look at him with a playful gasp, "Was that a pick-up line?" Syzoth looks away quickly, humming a tune as you lightly smack his arm. He stares at you blankly first, before smiling and tickling your sides as he chases you down the empty streets.

Finally, he catches you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulls you close.

"Are you feeling sleepier?" Syzoth asks quietly, forehead resting on yours. You yawn a bit, but shake your head softly in defiance.

"Not yet..." he smirks a bit at that. "Not tired yet..."

He cups your cheek, his thumb gently sliding up and down that side of your face, and you feel your body grow a bit sleepier. Syzoth presses a kiss on your forehead before asking again.

"Are you sure?" he asks, and you shake no again. "Then, perhaps this could help."

Gently, yet with passion, Syzoth leans in and kisses you. Normally, your eyes would be open and wide, but they're closed as you pull him in closer. His lips are warm, and his lizard-like tongue is not extended fully so you do not get skeeved or weirded out.

But by the elder gods, was he tender. He was soft, like blowing a dandelion into the wind. Like a gentle breeze during a summer day- you were delicate in his hands, and he was afraid of breaking you.

Letting go, Syzoth is panting as he looks at you with determination and pride. You kiss his cheek, and you cuddle his chest as he rests his head on yours. He strokes your hair, patting your head gently in between to really get you to nod to sleep. He also draws circles on your back, and it practically seals the deal.

"Thank you, Sy," you say quietly, yawning rather widely before you can feel your body get hoisted into the air.

"Thanks to you, dragonfly... all thanks to you."

Finally, after weeks of failure, he got it right.

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

in the middle of revamping my MLs again, this time including hella links (the parasites)

the last set of requests are more HC than actual fics, once they're over with i'll be writing on my own terms

so no, requests wont be open for a while

thank you all so much btw for getting me to 120+ followers! im surprised this acc actually took me somewhere

hopefully when i start my Cod fics, you all show them the same love too

see yall in the next fic!