#DIRTY TRACKS FOR CLUBBING | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

smileysuh · 16 days ago

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bottle service

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “Saying that… I was thinking… maybe tonight…” You can feel your skin heating in embarrassment, you’ve never had to ask a man for sex before, but it makes sense that with this man, this wonderful person who is leaving the ball in your court for all things decision-making, you have to be the one to speak up. “I was thinking maybe tonight we could go that one step further, if you want.”

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, body/breast worship, foreplay, pussy eating/oral, massaging, blindfold/sensory deprivation, multiple reader orgasms, praise, dirty talk, mention if toys/reader having a dry spell, Cheol’s got a big thick cock, masturbation, mention of proper aftercare, etc… I pet names: (hers) Doll.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 11.2k

🍭 aus. Slice of life au, bottle service girl! y/n, bouncer!Cheol, friends/coworkers to lovers.

☀️ mlist + an. As someone in the service industry, I kind of like doing this sort of au- I hope I was able to bring a bit of personal/lived experience to this fic :)

Prologue:

It’s been a long shift, and you feel on top of the world as you finally head to the back of the club to do your tip-out. Your fanny pack is full of cash, and you’re already considering different places that would be open at this time of night where you can go and grab a quick post-shift meal. You’re hoping Wonwoo is up for something, as you’ve begun to enjoy yourself more and more when you hang out with the bartender.

You wouldn’t say he’s your boyfriend, not yet, but there’s a potential with him that makes you excited to come to work on nights when you’re both scheduled.

You’ve been in the business long enough to know that relationships with coworkers in the service industry can get… well, messy, but you’re hoping that the hot, quiet bartender will be worth your time.

There’s a late-night ramen place by your apartment, and as you push through the door to the back of house, you think Wonwoo might like a bowl of noodles now that your shifts are over.

You’re walking down the hallway, tired, head in the clouds- you’re hardly thinking as you make your way to the staff room- and then, you stop dead in your tracks.

Your brain hardly registers the sight in front of you, and before you can so much as take a breath, Wonwoo is pulling away from the coworker he was just kissing.

The two stare at you, and the girl has more of a conscience than him, immediately starting to explain herself. “Doll,” she says, using the name you give clients at work, “it’s not how it looks-”

Wonwoo, in contrast, stays dead silent, staring at you without a hint of emotion in his sleepy eyes.

Your heart is thumping in your chest, and you take a deep breath. “I’m going to cashout somewhere else,” you whisper, turning to leave the staff room.

You can deal with this later- right now, you just want to finish up and clock out.

It feels like the room is spinning as you head to the lockers, where a small table provides staff space to eat. You take out your cash slip, quickly slotting in your numbers from the night.

“Are you mad?” Wonwoo’s voice behind you makes you jump, heart leaping again.

“What?”

“Are you mad I was kissing someone else?” he clarifies.

You can’t help the scoff that escapes you. “Is that really a question?”

“We’re not official,” he states.

“You’re right, we’re not.” You sigh deeply, reaching into your fanny pack to pull out cash. “Here’s your tipout.”

You shove the money against his chest, and Wonwoo looks down at it, then up at you. “Are we good?”

“We’re not good,” you tell him firmly.

“Listen,” Wonwoo lets out a breath as you head to the lockers to gather your things. “It’s not that I don’t like you, it’s just, bottle girls are bottle girls, and… things take forever with you.”

“What?” You turn to face him.

“You know, flirting for months, finally taking you out, getting you in bed…” he slowly breaks off.

“Is this about the fact that I can’t cum easily? Are you serious?” You can feel your voice beginning to raise, and you do your best to calm down, this is not the place to be discussing your sex life.

“You’re just… I thought you’d be more fun, you know? Like the other bottle girls I’ve been with.”

“And I thought you’d be less of a fucking asshole,” you tell him, grabbing your jacket.

Wonwoo is staring at you with a stunned expression, and you leave him like that, hurrying back the way you came. It’s end of the night at the club, patrons have gone, bartenders are closing up, bouncers are putting away chairs.

You stop at the bar to tip out a few more people, and as you’re heading to the door, you notice Seungcheol approaching. He’s a dark haired, beefy bouncer, and you’re friendly with him, although he’s generally quite serious when he’s at work.

“You heading home?” Seungcheol asks.

“Yup.”

“Is Wonwoo going with you?”

“Nope.”

Seungcheol’s steps falter before he follows you out the front door of the club. “I’ll walk you to your car,” he tells you.

“I’m good.”

“Shit can be dangerous after the club closes,” Seungcheol muses. “You girls carry a lot of cash in those fanny packs of yours, and scumbags know it.”

You sigh, not having the energy to fight the bouncer on this. Things are quiet as he takes you to your car, and you’re kind of glad he doesn’t push you for any details. You know you’re exuding negative energy, a stark contrast to the way you’d been when you’d settled up to head to the back of house just a few minutes ago.

Seungcheol can read people, it’s one of the reasons he’s such a good bouncer, but he respects you enough not to pry, and you appreciate that.

He watches you get into your car, nodding to himself. “Have a good night, Doll.”

“You too, big guy,” you sigh.

Seungcheol closes your door gently for you, and as soon as he’s stepped away, you pull out of the staff parking lot. A few blocks away, you park, taking a deep breath and allowing your emotions to wash over you.

You feel stupid that you’d trusted Wonwoo, stupid that you’d thought maybe things would go somewhere with him.

From now on, you’re going to just focus on work.

The service industry is no place to find a partner.

One:

It’s been a year since you caught Wonwoo kissing someone else, and since then, you’ve really focused on your job. Wonwoo is no longer a bartender at your club, and the girl he’d made out with had left shortly after the altercation.

While the club still holds some negative feelings for you, you’ve been doing your best to push through. Money has been good, and with a fresh focus on service, you’ve become the top bottle service girl. VIP’s come just for you, and you’re used to being a little flirty to make cash.

Jeonghan and Joshua are businessmen who come in frequently, and they always ask to sit in your section.

They’re a developer and real estate agent double team, although sometimes you get confused about which one does what. They’re celebrating a recent triumph, with Joshua drunkenly explaining to you how ‘the house went through escrow, no contingencies, and now we’re smooth sailing, Doll!’

They’ve been drinking a lot, racking up a tab, paying for other people’s alcohol- these men know how to party, and you know how to keep a smiling face with endless enthusiasm for their ability to spend money.

“Have you ever thought about getting into real estate?” Jeonghan asks you. “Businessmen love it when a pretty girl is showing them around a big house, it’s part of the dream of what they could really acquire if they buy a property.”

“Can’t say I’ve considered it,” you smile.

“You’d make a killing,” Joshua agrees, leaning forward. “I’d love to have you on my team.”

“I appreciate that,” you admit. “I’m very happy where I am right now.”

“What if,” Jeonghan grins broadly, “I give you this…” He pulls out his wallet, plucking out two hundred dollar bills before sneaking them into the band of your fanny pack, “and you tell us you’ll consider the offer.”

“I’ll consider it,” you laugh, playing into their drunkenness. Considering an offer for two hundred dollars never means you have to follow through.

“That’s our girl,” Joshua chuckles.

“Our Doll,” Jeonghan agrees, his hand slipping down from your fanny pack to your thigh, exposed by your short black dress-

There’s a flash of movement, and suddenly, someone is gripping Jeonghan’s wrist. “No touching,” Seungcheol’s deep voice reminds the VIP.

Jeonghan is shocked for a moment, the emotion written all over his face. “Right, sorry, my bad.” He tears his hand away from the bouncer. “Sorry, Doll, I got carried away.”

“That’s alright,” you assure them, trying to save face with two of your biggest spenders. “I’ll be back with that round of drinks for you.”

As you turn to leave the table, you pull Seungcheol with you, taking him down to the bar before you’re able to have a discussion. “Cheol-”

“I’m sorry if I stepped in a little quickly,” he tells you immediately. “They’ve been eying you all night, like they do every night, and I just…”

“No, it’s fine, he shouldn’t have touched me, I’m glad you were there.”

“I hope this doesn’t affect your tip or anything,” Seungcheol sighs.

“I’ll be fine,” you assure him. “I appreciate you being there.”

He’s really stepped up in the past year. Not only is he protective of you, but he’s protective of every bottle girl. There’d been a time before him where things hadn’t felt so safe, but with Cheol in the room every night, there have been significantly less incidences of violence from when the bar had first opened, or so you’ve heard.

He’s a good man, and he hires others of a similar caliber. All the bottle girls feel safe with Seungcheol and Mingyu at the door, and that sense of safety helps you all feel more comfortable at tables, leading to bigger and better tips.

Two:

You’re done cashing out for the night, and you meet Seungcheol at the door of the club. Mingyu takes over for him while the head bouncer walks you to your car, a system that’s made everyone feel safer in the past year.

“How was your night?” Seungcheol asks.

“It was good, after you checked Jeonghan, he felt bad, so they ended up tipping me out fifty percent of their bill.”

“That’s good,” he nods.

“If it weren’t for the tips, I don’t know what I’d do,” you laugh.

“It’s not a bad way to make a living,” the bouncer agrees.

“Did you know, Crystal, the new girl, she has a complete doctorate in psychology, but she makes more here as a bottle girl than by being a therapist?”

“Makes sense why the mental health in this country is trash, the government needs to pay therapists more or something.”

You laugh at Seungcheol’s words. It’s true, a lot of very important jobs are becoming less desirable due to shit pay. “I’m still shocked that I can come in for a night and make most of my rent in tips,” you admit. “With Christmas coming up, people are dropping the big bucks, feeling charitable.”

“Just be careful, people are more drunk these days too.”

“True, they are more drunk,” you admit thoughtfully, “but I don’t have to be very careful when I have you walking around making sure nothing bad will happen.”

Seungcheol laughs as he opens your car door for you, helping you into your vehicle. “I’m glad I can make you feel safe,” he tells you.

“Me too, Cheol.”

Three:

It’s New Year’s Eve and you’ve got numerous tables of big spenders. Woozi and Seokmin are regulars, with the latter of the two having somewhat of an obvious crush on you. Normally, they’re pretty respectable, with Seokmin even being known to be a huge blusher. The poor man stutters sometimes when he talks to you, and you’ve never had any trouble with them.

But tonight… well, they’ve been here for hours, and you’re realizing that tonight might be the night you have to cut someone off.

The two men order a round of shots just before midnight, and you head to talk to your manager about it.

“Vernon, may I?” you ask, coming to stand next to your newest manager.

“What’s up, Doll?” he asks, looking up from his iPad.

“My table seventy, Seokmin and Woozi. They’re regulars, usually pretty good, but they’ve ordered a lot of drinks in the past half hour or so. Seokmin in particular has been swaying for the past five minutes. They just ordered another round, and I know it’s about to be midnight on New Years, but I think we need to cut them off.”

Vernon nods, and you watch him look over toward your table. “How much have they had?”

You pull out your own iPad, showing your manager the tab that the two men have collected over the past two or so hours.

“I agree, I think we should cut Seokmin off. He’s had three or four more shots than Woozi, so I think we’ll just respectfully go talk to him.”

“I’ll follow your lead,” you sigh, hating to have to do this.

The two of you take deep breaths before walking over to the table where Seokmin and Woozi are seated.

“Hello, gentlemen,” Vernon starts, plastering on a fake smile. “I’m Vernon, I’m the manager here.” He reaches out a hand, introducing himself to the two men. “Unfortunately, based on how much the two of you have had to drink tonight, the bar has decided to cut you off.”

“What?!” Seokmin bellows, eyes going wide.

“We take our liquor license very seriously here,” Vernon says, his tone lowering to have a regretful edge. “I know you guys are regulars, and I’m sorry I have to do this, but we just have to cut you off.”

Seokmin is very pouty and after a minute, you realize Vernon’s forgetting something. You don’t want to have to remind him of policy in front of guests, but you also don’t want him to head off without finishing this interaction completely, so you step forward. “Seokmin? May I ask how you got here tonight?” You know very well that he drove his sportscar.

“The mustang,” he frowns.

Vernon picks up on your line of questioning immediately. “I’m afraid we’ll also have to ask for your keys.”

Seokmin looks like it’s the end of the world as he pulls out the keys from his suit pocket. “This is the worst,” he groans.

“I hate to be this person,” Vernon sighs again, “but we’ll also have to ask you to vacate the premises.”

“What?!” Seokmin bellows. “But midnight is in ten minutes! Can’t I just stay for ten more minutes!?”

“Seokmin,” Woozi’s voice interrupts his friends dramatics. “We know how licensing works, they’re just doing their jobs. I told you to pace yourself, and here we are. I think you should go home, make things easy on Doll and her manager.”

“We can call you a taxi,” you offer, trying to send a warm smile toward the drunken Seokmin.

“I’m being a burden,” Seokmin whines, hiding his face in his hands. “I’m sorry, Doll, I’m sorry, Woozi-”

“It’s okay,” Woozi pats his friend’s back. “I’m sure me and Doll won’t hold it against you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you promise.

“I’ll take his tab,” Woozi tells you. “He should just get home.”

“Now you’re taking my tab?! I’m a burden and you’re a great friend!” Seokmin bellows, hugging the intense man next to him.

“Get out of here,” Woozi says, and there’s a fond smile on his face as he pats his friend’s back.

“Okay, I’m sorry for the trouble,” Seokmin apologizes again.

He stands up, and you notice immediately that he’s a little wobbly. “Let me help you outside,” you offer.

“We’ll both help,” Vernon says, and the two of you each grab one of Seokmin’s arms as he wobbles toward the front door.

It’s a packed club tonight, with many choosing your location as a spot to celebrate New Year's. The bouncers are quite busy with the door, but Seungcheol comes over the moment he notices you and Vernon struggling with a very drunken Seokmin.

“Vernon!” another bottle girl, Candy, has shown up too. “I need your help!”

“Shit,” your manager cusses. “Cheol, can you handle this?”

“I want to make sure he’s okay,” you step in. As much as your patrons are a way to make big tips, you do care about your regulars, and you know Seokmin would be happier having you there instead of some scary bouncer.

“Okay, I’ll make sure your section is covered for a few minutes,” Vernon nods before hurrying away with Crystal.

“I’m sorry,” Seokmin mumbles as Seungcheol takes over his right side, helping you drag the man out of the club.

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “Just take a few breaths.”

The three of you stop by the curb, and Seungcheol looks around. “I’ll find a cab.”

Seokmin is standing for all of one minute before he collapses to the ground, slipping right from your grasp as he pukes onto the road in front of you.

“Fuck,” you mutter. You’re not sure what he ate today, maybe nothing, but if you’d had realized his tolerance tonight of all nights would be this bad, you would have cut him off ages ago.

You lean down, rubbing Seokmin’s back. “It’s okay,” you tell him, “let it out.”

You take care of him while Seungcheol grabs him a ride, running inside to get a bag for him incase Seokmin pukes again. Then, the two of you help the poor man into the car, with Seungcheol talking Seokmin through his address.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” Seokmin moans, pulling out his wallet. “Here.” He shoves a few hundred dollar bills at you and Seungcheol.

“Just get home safe,” you tell him, accepting the money.

Seokmin can only groan, rolling his window up as the cab pulls away from the curb.

You release a deep sigh, turning to Seungcheol. “Here,” you give him half the money, but Seungcheol holds up a hand.

“That’s yours, Doll,” he sighs. “I didn’t do much.”

You open your mouth to argue, and that’s when there’s a loud boom. You look up to see fireworks, and you realize, you’re next to Seungcheol, and the clock has just struck twelve on New Years Eve.

Your eyes shift to the bouncer, realizing how close you’re standing.

He looks so pretty tonight, all big and steady- the fireworks reflecting off his dark eyes.

You swallow the lump in your throat, wrapping your arms around yourself to counter the cold of the evening.

There’s a connection between the two of you, and you’ve felt it for a few months, but now, in this exact situation, you know that every fiber of your being wants this man to kiss you.

“We should uh…” you notice Seungcheol’s gaze dip to your lips, his voice faltering, “we should head inside, you look cold.”

“Right, yeah.” You have to give your head a shake to focus again. “Thanks for the help.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The two of you go back into the club and as you begin to serve the VIP tables again, you realize that despite the head shake, you can’t get Seungcheol out of your mind.

Four:

“How’d your night go?” Seungcheol asks a few days later as he walks you to your car after a shift.

“Went alright,” you sigh. “Lots of people are doing the whole ‘Dry January’ thing, but my VIPs are pretty consistent with tips and orders.”

“That’s good,” Seungcheol nods.

“Did you hear about the staff Christmas party in a few days?” you ask.

“Uh huh.”

“Are you going?”

“I’ll be there. You?”

“I’m going.”

The two of you reach your car and you turn to look at Seungcheol.

The moment on New Years is fresh on your mind, in fact, it’s been practically all you’ve been thinking about these past few days.

There’s a new tension between the two of you, and you know from the way Seungcheol shifts his weight from one foot to the other, that you’re not the only one feeling it.

“Thanks for making sure I got to my car safe.”

Seungcheol only nods, and again, you catch him staring at your lips.

Is he going to do it? Is he finally going to kiss you?

“Have a good night,” Seungcheol says gruffly, stepping back.

“Thanks, you too,” you sigh, heart sinking in your chest.

He stays standing there until you’re in your car, and with one final nod farewell, you begin to drive home, the anticipation of a kiss dying in your chest.

Five:

Staff Christmas parties can be hard in the service industry. With everyone booking their own parties and events at your place of work during the end of December, the only time to have them is early January, and then there’s the choice of doing a brunch before you open, or doing a late night thing after close.

A vote had been taken, and with many of you being night owls, you’d agreed to close an hour early on a Wednesday, so here you are, at 1 am, the first week of January, finally having your staff Christmas party.

Drinks are flowing, people are giggling, and overall, you’re enjoying yourself.

You’re not very close with many coworkers, especially after what had happened last year with Wonwoo. In fact, as you float around the room, holding your cocktail, you begin to realize that the person you might be the most connected to is - in fact - Seungcheol.

But there’s still a tension between you, one that makes you nervous to approach the head bouncer as he chills in a booth with a few other beefy security men.

You bide your time, casting a glance his way every now and then. You don’t want to approach Seungcheol when he’s surrounded by others, but as his table widdles down to just him and Mingyu, you take a breath.

Mingyu is known as the softest bouncer, he’s tall, charming, and a hundred percent puppy dog. His eyes light up as you approach, and Mingyu moves over to provide room from you in the booth. “Hi, Doll!” Mingyu beams.

“Hey, Mingyu,” you smile, taking a seat. “How are you two doing?”

“Open bar,” Mingyu responds, holding up his beer. You love how simple things are for this man, if there are cute girl and drinks, he’s happy- so, seeing as he’s a bouncer at a club, you’ve never seen Mingyu in a foul mood.

“What are you drinking, Cheol?” you ask, turning your attention to the person you really want to spend time with. “Vodka cran?”

“Cran soda,” Mingyu corrects. “Big guy isn’t a huge drinker.”

“Really?” you ask, brows raising. “I’m shocked.”

Cheol simply shrugs. “I make it a rule not to drink at work.”

“We’re off the clock,” you remind him with a grin. “Are you sure you don’t want to let loose a little? You seem tense.”

“I’m just not a huge party guy,” Seungcheol sighs, leaning back and resting his palm on the table. You’re struck by his large hands, how pretty they look-

“Speaking of partying,” Mingyu interjects, “I think they’re going to start karaoke soon, I’ve gotta go put my name down.”

You laugh, getting out of the booth to allow Mingyu to scurry away before taking your seat again. “Are you a karaoke fan?”

“Not really,” Seungcheol responds. “You?”

“I can be,” you say thoughtfully. “It depends.”

“You don’t look like you’re having a lot of fun tonight,” Seungcheol notes.

“Wow, big guy, have you been watching me?” you laugh.

“Old habits die hard,” Seungcheol says under his breath.

You cock your head to the side. “What do you mean by that?”

The large bouncer shrugs. “I guess, you’re our top bottle girl, you deal with regulars and VIPs who get a little more… I don’t know, bold, than others who are here. I always have my eye on you.”

You can feel your skin heat, a mix of embarrassment and pride.

“Anyways,” Seungcheol swallows thickly and it’s clear he wants to shift the topic. “I’m also not drinking because I have to drive home soon.”

“You’re not staying for karaoke?”

“It’s not my scene.”

“Ah, I see.” Your heart sinks a little, you’d hoped to spend more time with him tonight.

“Do you need a ride?” he asks.

“I was probably going to get a cab,” you admit.

“Listen, I think we both spend too much time in this club surrounded by people partying. I don’t know about you, but I’m more of a stay at home and have a quiet night in kind of guy. How would you feel about getting out of here, going to mine and actually relaxing now that we’ve shown our faces here and done our due diligence?”

“I would love that,” you tell him.

Seungcheol nods. “Let’s finish our drinks then.”

“I’ll drink to that,” you giggle, lifting your glass to gently clink against his own.

It’s crazy how you can be in a club full of coworkers and alcohol, music pumping through speakers and Crystal starting a horrible cover of ‘Defying Gravity’ on karaoke, but still, staring at Seungcheol in your booth, it feels like it’s just the two of you.

You’re a little eager with your cocktail, and soon, the two of you are bringing your glasses over to the bar, grabbing your things, and heading out the door.

Seungcheol leads you to the staff parking lot, where he opens the passenger door to a massive black truck. “I’ll help you in,” he says, holding out a hand, “it’s a bit of a high step.”

You’re in cute heels, and you definitely need Seungcheol for stability as you climb into the large vehicle.

He shuts the door gently behind you before walking around the front of the truck to enter his own side.

“You cold?” he asks, putting the keys in the ignition so the truck can roar to life.

“Just a little, I’ll be fine,” you assure him.

The bouncer reaches forward, flicking a button. “I’m going to heat your seat for you.”

You can tell from his tone that he won’t take no for an answer. He wants to take care of you, wants to make sure you’re warm and comfortable.

You admire the truck while the two of you begin to drive to his apartment, and you marvel at the view. Being so much higher than in your own car, it feels very different driving around.

“Are you sure you want to come to mine? I can take you back to yours and drop you off if you’d prefer,” Seungcheol offers.

“No, I want to spend some more time with you,” you admit, taking a leap and being vulnerable.

You see Seungcheol crack a smile, but he doesn’t say anything, and the two of you just grin the whole way to his place. You look at the large building as he pulls into the underground, marveling at the modern location.

“Nice building,” you muse.

“It does the job,” Seungcheol says humbly as he parks. “Let me help you out of the truck.”

You wait patiently for him to come around to your side, opening the door and offering you his hand. You gently take his palm, allowing him to help you down. You love the princess treatment, and you think you could get used to this as the two of you head to the elevator.

The elevator ride up to his floor is quite, a giddiness exploding through your stomach. You’re excited about this, about what the night might have to offer you.

“So this is home,” Seungcheol says as he holds open his door for you, allowing you to step into his apartment first.

You can’t help the shock that floods over you at the entryway alone. The design choices are giving modern man, a man who is put together, a man with money, and this hadn’t necessarily been what you were expecting from Seungcheol.

“Wow, this place is nice,” you tell him, slipping off your high heels. “I didn’t know bouncers made this kind of money.”

Seungcheol laughs at your forward statement. “They don’t.” He puts his keys in the entryway decorative bowl. “I haven’t always been a bouncer, you know.”

“No? You didn’t come swinging right out of the womb?” you tease.

He releases another chuckle. “I uh, actually come from money. I own a few properties, make passive income off tenants and stuff. My dad actually owns the club we work at. I used to be a regular there when it first opened, and I saw how tough some of the bottle girls had it, dealing with VIPs and shit. Call it a quarter life crisis or something, but I figured I have enough money, enough assets, to do something that actually makes a difference, even in some small way… running businesses was always my dad’s thing anyway, not mine.”

You stare at him in shock for a few moments, then you swallow thickly to find your voice. “I mean… I always thought Choi was just a common last name, I would have never guessed you were the owners son- I never expected this kind of origin story from you.”

“No? I don’t scream spoiled rich boy to you?” Seungcheol teases.

“I guess your truck probably should have tipped me off,” you admit with a giggle. “Look at you, closeted rich boy who comes to work in jeans and hoodies every day.”

“I like to be comfortable,” Seungcheol muses, leading you into his apartment. “My home is your home, take a seat, and I’ll grab us some drinks.”

You nod gratefully, making your way to the plush sectional couch in his livingroom. It’s an open floor plan, and you turn to watch him in the kitchen. The underlights littered around the cupboards provide just the right ambiance, and you take the time to appreciate the broadness of Seungcheol’s shoulders as he opens his fridge.

“What are you feeling?” he asks. “Beer or wine?”

“Wine sounds good,” you grin. “Although, I never took you as a wine drinker.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Seungcheol responds, pulling a bottle of white wine from the fridge. He retrieves two glasses and a corkscrew before coming to join you on the couch. He sets the glasses on the glass coffee table, and then you watch him expertly open the bottle, taking his time.

“You might be better at my job than I am,” you muse, smiling at the man who’s so focused on the wine in his hands.

“I’ve just got practice,” he retorts with a grin. Seungcheol pores you both a drink. “Cheers,” he says, and you clink your glasses.

You take a sip, and Seugcheol watches you intently. “So, you know a little about my past,” he muses. “How about you? How’d you end up doing bottle service?”

You release a deep breath, leaning back against his couch. “That’s a good question.” You adjust a little, tucking your knees up so you can sit sideways, one arm draped over the back of the couch. “You know how I told you Crystal had a doctorate in psychology?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, sipping his wine.

“Well, I was in psychology too. Took the job to supplement my schooling, realized I was making a lot of money from tips. Crystal confirmed the salary difference and I guess I figured I’d put more energy into the club. I graduated a couple of months ago, I’m still considering going back for further schooling, but for now, I think I’m just trying to figure out what I want my life direction to be.”

“I guess having that background makes you better at bottle service,” Seungcheol points out. “You’re really good with clients, especially Seokmin on New Years eve.”

“People just want to be seen and heard,” you sigh. “In a drunk state, a lot of people can be guided with soft tones. You’re at the club to help us girls be safe, I guess I’m at the club to make people feel a little better about interacting with others… sure, there’s money involved too, but that’s capitalism for you.”

“Yeah, capitalism,” Seungcheol releases a sigh, and then a chuckle. “I definitely didn’t think our conversation tonight would steer towards politics and ideologies, but here we are.”

“Where did you think our conversation tonight would lead us?” you ask, cocking your head to the side with interest.

“I guess I just figured maybe I’d invite you back here, open a bottle of wine-”

“So the bottle of wine is for me, you don’t just keep chardonnay in your fridge!”

“Caught me,” Seungcheol laughs.

“What else were you thinking of doing to me once I came here?” you ask, leaning forward with a mischievous arch of your brow.

The bouncer laughs even harder, throwing his head back, but the chuckle turns into a deep sigh, and he meets your eyes again. “Slow down there, Doll, I’m a gentleman.”

“Sure you are,” you tease.

“Why psychology?”

“Hmm?”

“Psychology, you said you took it in school, what pushed you in that direction?”

It’s definitely a topic switcheroo, and you sit back in your seat to think about it for a few moments. “I guess… I just like people. I’m interested in them, and why they are the way that they are.”

“Do you find that working in the service industry gives you a good test group of people to watch?”

You laugh. “That sounds way too scientific for me. I think I’m just a people person.”

“But we both got bored at the party.”

“We just finished shifts. I can’t be surrounded by noise and problems and gossip all day every day,” you point out. “Besides, I wanted to get to know you better, and the club isn’t the best place for that. I think I’ve learned a lot more about you just by seeing where you live than anything else I’ve discovered this past year.”

“Do you like what you’ve learned?”

You smile, nodding. “Yeah.”

You chat for a while, then Seungcheol puts on a show in the background while the two of you take turns asking all sorts of questions. You realize, as Seungcheol drapes a blanket over you, that he truly has no intention of fucking you tonight. He’d brought you back here to get to know you better, not for some ulterior motive that involved getting his dick wet.

You feel safe with him, and as you cuddle up to his side, only half paying attention to the show on the screen, you release a breath. Soon, you’re drifting off to sleep, and you know you’re in good hands.

Six:

You wake up slowly, then all at once, sitting up abruptly with your heart lurching. The room around you is unfamiliar, and when you turn, you notice Seungcheol passed out in bed next to you. He’s still wearing his hoodie, with the hood all the way up, his hair a tangle of dark curls.

When you adjust, he stirs, blinking groggily. “Doll?”

“Sorry, I just-”

“Come here,” he grumbles, pulling you back down and to his chest.

You feel like an extremely little spoon in his embrace, and your heart is racing like a sportscar still. “What happened last night?” you ask.

“You passed out on the couch, it’s more comfortable here. I thought about getting you out of your dress, but I figured that would be creepy so we’re still wearing out clothes from last night,” he sighs. “What time is it?”

“Eleven thirty,” you say, looking at the clock on his bedside table.

“Shit,” he groans.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” you laugh.

“No, I just… Usually I work out at nine am.”

“Guess it’s a skip day.”

“Guess so,” Seungcheol agrees, holding you tighter.

You can feel his breath on the back of your neck, and fuck, it feels good.

You could get so used to this.

“Should we wake up?” he asks.

“If you want.”

“We probably should,” Seungcheol sighs deeply. “Five more minutes.”

You have no qualms with five more minutes of cuddling, and when the time is up, Seungcheol haphazardly gets out of bed. He’s stumbly, his eyes still half closed, and God, does he look adorable.

“I want to take you for brunch,” Seungcheol says. “I’ve gotta shower quickly, do you want to change into some of my clothes?”

“Honestly, I don’t think I’d fit in your clothes, with your broad shoulders and stuff,” you laugh.

“At least take a jacket, closets right here,” he disappears into the walk in, returning with a bundle of clothes in his arms. “I’m gonna shower, feel free to take anything you like, I’ll be right back.”

You wait till he’s in the ensuite bathroom, the water running, before you sneak out of bed to investigate his closet.

Turns out he has more than just hoodies and jeans, and you try not to be super snoopy as you look at suits and other attire.

You find a duster jacket, and when you put it on over your dress, you like the oversized feel of it.

You go to wait on his bed, and soon, Seungcheol’s coming out of his bathroom in a new set of clothes. “Are you a brunch girl?” he asks, leading you through his apartment toward the front door.

“I can be, with the right person.”

“Now I see how you get tips, Doll, you’re a charmer.”

“Just being honest with you,” you grin.

Seungcheol chuckles, pulling on a hoodie to go with his jeans before he opens the front door for you to exit.

You’re both tired as you take the elevator down to his truck, and Seungcheol tells you he ‘knows a brunch place,’ so you leave the details in his capable hands.

He takes you to a small Mom and Pop style restaurant, and by the way the hostess greets him, you can tell he comes here a lot. The two of you get a secluded booth in the corner of the restaurant by the window, and Seungcheol releases a deep breath as you sit down.

“I come here most days after the gym, I’m not much of a cook back home,” Seungcheol tells you. “They always let me bring a protein shake in here, and the eggs are good.”

“I’m excited to try the food then,” you admit, looking at the menu.

The waitress comes, and you notice the way she looks at Seungcheol, you suppose you can’t blame her, you look at him the same way.

He’s cordial with her, the two of you getting drinks, and soon, you’re ordering food too. “Eggs any way, let’s do scrambled, make it four eggs, with cheese, rye toast, extra bacon and extra sausage,” Seungcheol tells her.

“Wow, only four eggs today?” The waitress cocks her brow.

“Didn’t come from the gym,” Seungcheol explains.

“You got it, boss,” the server teases.

She takes your order next, then scurries off, and Seungcheol’s gaze shifts to you. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course.”

“I like you, a lot.”

“I like you too, a lot,” you grin.

“How do you feel about dating coworkers?” he questions.

“I mean… we both know things didn’t end well with Wonwoo, so I’d sort of promised myself not to do that again, but… well, you’re not Wonwoo.”

“I’m definitely not,” Seungcheol agrees with a sad chuckle. “Do you mind if I ask you what happened with him? I mean… you strike me as someone a little more serious, someone looking for something more serious, I always kind of wondered why you tried with Wonwoo of all people.”

“That’s a good question,” you admit, leaning back in the booth. “Honestly, I think I liked the idea of him. I figured he was kind of quiet, which would mean he wasn’t a player, but I was wrong.”

Seungcheol nods, looking down at his hands. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“He thought that, since I do bottle service, I’d be willing to put out quickly, but, I’m not that kind of girl. I have to be comfortable with someone in order to have that sort of deep connection, you know?”

“Yeah, I’m not one for one-night stands either,” Seungcheol agrees.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page about this,” you grin gratefully.

“Me too.” Seugcheol reaches over the table, grabbing your hand. It’s a delicate touch, but it speaks volumes.

The two of you continue to chat, and food comes. You eat peacefully together, and brunch is ending much too quickly for your liking. The two of you get back into his truck, and Seungcheol drives you home, insisting on helping you out of his vehicle again.

You love the way he holds out his hand, helping you down onto the pavement. His free palm steadies you at the hip, and you look up at the bouncer expectantly.

He swallows thickly, his gaze shifting to your lips. “You have no idea how much I wanted to kiss you on New Years,” he admits, tone low.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wished you did.”

There’s a brief moment of eye contact, of Seungcheol being sure you’re okay with this, and then, he cups your cheek, leaning down to finally close the distance.

His lips are soft, his palm warm against your skin, and you have to stifle a moan at first contact. You shift closer, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, pressing your chest to his own.

Seungcheol grabs the small of your back, keeping you tight to his body, the kiss deepening.

There’s a honk from nearby traffic and you jump a little, pulling away while the two of you double check your surroundings.

Your heart is racing in your chest. Once again, you’d been pulled so completely into the experience of being with Seungcheol, that you’d nearly forgotten everything else going around you.

You’re still in a daze as you meet his gaze again, and Seungcheol slowly moves, pressing his forehead against your own in the most loving way possible. “I’ll see you soon,” he promises, gifting one last chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away.

You practically stumble away from him, overwhelmed as you use your key to get into your apartment lobby. You turn to wave goodbye to the bouncer who’s still watching you from his truck, intent on making sure you get home safe, as always.

Seven:

“So…” Candy grins as you both count up your money after a good night, “what’s going on with you and Seungcheol?”

“Huh?”

“I saw you two leave the Christmas party together,” she muses, pausing what she’s doing to give you her full attention. “Something definitely happened.”

“You think so?” you laugh.

“You’re both hot, so, yeah.”

It’s been five days since that night, five days of you and Seungcheol spending every day together in some capacity or another.

“I can see you grinning,” Candy teases before leaning in, her voice lowering. “How is he in bed?”

“Candy!” you laugh, shocked at her direct question.

“What?” She acts as if it’s the most normal inquiry in the world. “You guys have to have slept together by now, no?”

“For your information…” you lower your own tone, shifting closer. “We haven’t.”

“What? But you’re in the service industry! We’re all whores here!”

You can’t help but giggle at her words. “Not all of us, babes.”

“Okay, but… soon though?”

“Maybe…”

“You’re seeing him tonight, aren’t you, Doll?” Candy’s grin widens.

“Maybe…” you singsong.

“Bet you can’t help yourself anymore, huh? Tonight’s the night?” Candy pokes your arm. “That man is so big and tree-like that you could climb him, it must be hard holding out.”

You finish up your cash out with a sigh and a shake of your head. “It’s actually been nice just getting to know him.”

“And when you get married, I’m invited,” Candy declares.

“Sure you are, goodnight, Candy.”

“Only one of us is having a good night, you fucking tree climber.”

You’re still laughing as you get back into the main club area. Seungcheol is waiting for you by the doors, and together you walk to his car.

“Do you want me to take you back to yours tonight?” he asks.

“Hmm?”

“I mean…” he rubs the back of his neck as he holds open the passenger door for you. “I don’t want to be presumptuous-”

“Well I like to be presumptuous,” you tease, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “which is why I packed an overnight bag for your place.”

Seungcheol grins. “I love a woman who knows what she wants.”

Eight:

You feel like you’ve had a crash course in all things Seungcheol in the past five days, even so, you want to know more, so, you’ve resorted to finding cheesy lists of questions online to ask him.

He’s adorable when you suggest it, pouring you both a small glass of wine before joining you on the couch.

The two of you take turns asking questions, finding inquiries that you hadn’t thought to ask before.

“What was the first thing you noticed about me,” you grin, putting your phone down.

“Your work ethic,” Seungcheol answers. “Your smile, your… infectious personality.”

“Infectious? Okay, mister resting grumpy face,” you tease.

“I’m a bouncer, it’s part of the job,” he muses, reaching for your phone to find a question of his own. “What was your favourite part of our first date?”

“I mean, if you count coming back here after the Christmas party as our first date, it was the fact that I fell asleep so easily next to you. You just relax me, I even woke up in your bed fully clothed after which was nice-”

“Common decency,” Seungcheol interjects with a sigh.

“Still,” you insist. “If we’re talking about the brunch the next morning as our first date, I think I just sort of liked how natural it felt, as if we’d done it a thousand times. There wasn’t any food anxiety-”

“Food anxiety?”

“You know, worrying about getting food on my face or in my teeth, or you judging me on what I ordered- you just, accept me, and I knew it from the start.”

“That’s cute,” Seungcheol grins, passing you your phone back.

You skim the screen for a few seconds. “Have you told your friends about me?”

“Yeah, my friends outside of work know about you.”

“They do?” you smile, heart softening.

“They’ve known about you for a while.”

“Been crushing on your coworker for how long, Cheol?” you tease.

“Like I said… a while.”

You’re satisfied with your answer, so you pass him your phone.

“I found a question,” he says after a moment, “but if it’s not something you want to dive into, we can skip it.”

“Just go for it.”

“So… we’ve talked a bit about this before, for example, I know you’re not a one-night stand person, but other than that, why didn’t things work out with Wonwoo, or, your ex?” he asks, adjusting the question on your list ever so slightly.

“Oof.” You let out a deep breath, taking a sip of your wine.

“Like I said, we can skip it,” Seungcheol assures you.

“No, just give me some time,” you tell him, trying to center yourself. “You want the real answer? The TMI answer?”

“Always.”

“I told you I’m not into one night stands, I told you I need a deeper connection with people- at the root of it, I can’t uh… I can’t cum unless I feel safe with someone.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment. “So safety, and probably a lot of foreplay.”

“Exactly.”

“And most men haven’t given you that in the past?” he enquires.

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Then they didn’t deserve you.”

“And… how would you be different?” you ask, heart beginning to thump faster in your chest.

“Well, I’d take my time with you, for one,” Seungcheol responds, putting your phone down and shifting so he can face you. “I’d find out what you like, what you don’t like… I’d reassure you verbally, I wouldn’t pressure you, and I’d give you space to be yourself.”

“You’re already doing all of those things, which I appreciate,” you admit. “I like how slow we’ve been going.”

“Yeah, me too.” He licks his lips, and your eyes are drawn to the motion.

“Saying that… I was thinking… maybe tonight…” You can feel your skin heating in embarrassment, you’ve never had to ask a man for sex before, but it makes sense that with this man, this wonderful person who is leaving the ball in your court for all things decision-making, you have to be the one to speak up. “I was thinking maybe tonight we could go that one step further, if you want.”

“Are you sure you’re up for that?” Seungcheol asks, cocking his head to the side to assess you.

“Yes.” You nod, forcing yourself to exude assertiveness. “I feel safe with you, and I’m ready to break my dry spell.”

“Dry spell, huh?” The bouncer grins. “I’ll make the wait worth it.”

“You promise?” you ask, moving closer to him.

“I promise.” His strong hands pull you into his lap and you straddle his waist on the couch, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck loosely.

The two of you just stare at each other for a moment, and then Seungcheol leans forward, pressing a soft kiss against your lips.

You love how gentle he is with you, but tonight, you want more, and you quickly change the pace of the kiss when you lick at his lower lip, shyly asking for entry.

Seungcheol releases a groan, opening up to you, and you return the sound with a whimper of your own, shifting in his lap. Your chests are pressed together now, and Seungcheol’s hands move from your hips to the small of your back, massaging your body gently as you kiss.

He feels so good, and your mind goes blank as the two of you enjoy each other.

You can’t help it when you begin to move though, wiggling gently against him. You can already feel something pressing up between your legs, and it makes you more confident knowing you’ve had this sort of affect on him.

You’re both breathing heavily when Seungcheol moves his mouth to your neck, searching until he finds your sweet spot. You let out a loud moan, tilting your head back, grabbing at his shoulders tightly. He licks at your skin, gently circling the spot that has your entire body reacting.

Seungcheol releases a deep groan, his hands moving to grip your ass, and then he stands up suddenly, making you clutch onto him in shock.

“Moving to the bedroom,” he tells you, carrying you the short distance.

Seungcheol sets you gently onto his bed, looking down at you. He lets out a breath, running a hand through his unruly curls.

“What are you thinking?” you ask.

“I was thinking maybe you’d be into a blindfold.”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve heard that some girls who have anxiety in bed relax more when there’s no need for eye contact, when they can just focus on what’s feeling good.”

“Do you have a blindfold?”

“I have a sleeping mask,” Seungcheol responds, reaching into his bedside table to retrieve one. “Are you up for it?”

“We could give it a try,” you tell him, heart leaping in your chest.

“I think this needs to come off first though,” Seungcheol muses, pulling at your hoodie.

“Do what you need to do,” you say, giving him permission to take care of you in the way he sees fit.

Seungcheol joins you on the bed, and he prompts you to sit up. His hands slip under your hoodie, gently lifting it, but leaving your shirt on beneath.

He kisses you then, taking his time with you, his hands exploring your body. For the first time, his large palm grazes your breast, and you whimper against his lips, arching your back, a nonverbal communication that you want him to continue.

Seungcheol’s mouth moves to your throat again, zoning in on your sweet spot. He begins to slowly slide your shirt up, and soon, he’s discarding that too. All that’s left on your upper half is your bra, and Seungcheol grips your breasts through the padding. His lips kiss the swell of your chest, his hair teasing your jaw even as you throw your head back, breathing heavily.

“Can I take this off too?” he asks, voice low, lust-filled.

“Please.”

His fingers expertly unclasp your bra and he gently takes it off of you, tossing it onto your ever-growing pile of clothes next to the bed.

Seungcheol lays you down softly, pressing his lips against your own. He kisses you deeply and you wrap your arms around him, teasing your fingers along his strong shoulders. You tug at the fabric of his shirt and you can feel him smirk against your lips.

He sits up, reaching behind himself to grab the nape of the neck of the fabric, and then he tugs it off, revealing a chiseled body of muscle. But he’s not lean-muscled, he’s clearly got some beef to him too, and it makes Seungcheol all the more attractive.

His own eyes take in your bare torso, and then he reaches for your breast, softly cupping it. His thumb strokes past your nipple and you groan, writhing against his bed sheets.

Seungcheol leans down, kissing your throat. He takes his time as he begins to descend, and your heart is thundering with anticipation by the time he makes it to your nipple. He licks it gently, circling the pebbled bud.

You groan loudly, threading your fingers in his hair.

He grins as he continues sucking on your nipple, his free hand moving up to cup the neglected breast. You love how he’s taking his time with you, and you can feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

“Can I take your sweatpants off?” he asks.

“Yes, please.” You lift your hips to make things easier for Seungcheol, and soon, your pants are discarded, leaving you only in your panties.

“I think it’s time for the blindfold if you want,” he suggests, sitting up and reaching for it.

He passes the silky fabric to you, and you take a breath. “Let’s do it.”

“If you want to take it off for any reason, just take it off, okay?” He’s looking at you very seriously, and you know in your heart that he values your own comfort more than anything else.

“Okay.”

You slowly slip the blindfold on before relaxing back against the bed and releasing another deep breath.

Seungcheol grabs your calf gently, massaging it. His hand is warm and big, working it’s way up to your knee, then you’re thigh.

He shifts on the bed, and a moment later you feel breath against your clothed core.

You grip the bed sheets in anticipation.

Seungcheol presses a kiss to your panty-covered clit and your toes curl involuntarily. You half expect him to continue to focus on your pussy, but his lips quickly move to your inner thigh.

One of his hands is still massaging your thigh, and everything feels heightened with the blindfold on. You’re entirely focused on Seungcheol and his gentle movements, your skin electrified with sensitivity.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your inner knee.

You can only moan in response, mind pleasantly blank except for the slow build of pleasure that the bouncer is providing for you.

His breath ghosts past your core again and you shiver, clutching harder at the sheets.

“You look a little impatient too,” Seungcheol muses, and you can imagine his grin as he looks up at you.

“I am,” you admit, “impatient.”

“You’re being good for me so far,” he points out. “Maybe… I should finally reward you.”

“Please,” you practically beg.

“Gonna take these off of you now,” Seungcheol says, curling his fingers in the waistband of your panties.

You lift your hips again, and just like that, you’re completely bare for him.

It kind of helps that your own eyes are covered, that you’re not anxiously gaging his reaction to you-

“Still so pretty,” Seungcheol groans, and that’s all the confirmation of attraction that you need. Your pussy throbs at his words, and your skin tingles as he massages your thighs again. “Can you spread these for me, Doll?”

You’re quick to follow through with his request, his large palms helping to spread you open for him.

“Something tells me no one’s eaten you out properly in a very long time,” he muses.

“Try never.”

“You’ve never been eaten out?”

“I have, just… not properly.”

“Men these days,” Seungcheol sighs, and you giggle at his defeated tone.

Your laugh quickly turns into a whimper when Seungcheol licks a stripe of your pussy. He starts at the bottom, and makes his way to the top, circling your clit gently.

“Shit,” you groan, reaching down for him with one hand, trying to grab at his hair.

“Do you like it rough, or gentle?” he asks, guiding you by your wrist so you can take hold of his head.

“A bit of both- surprise me,” you breathe.

“You got it, Doll.”

His attention quickly returns to your core, where he begins to suck and lick. Every time you start to feel close from him playing with your clit, his tongue slips down to press into your hole. It’s a push-pull of pleasure, a teasing control of your body.

Your stomach muscles begin to clench, and you start to feel desperate.

“Seungcheol,” you whine, “I want to cum.”

“Yeah?” He’s panting against your pussy now and it feels so fucking good.

“Please?”

“I thought you said it’s hard to make you cum, I figured I’d be down here for a while.”

You pause, realizing that this might be the fastest you’ve ever come to an orgasm with a man.

“I-” You can’t find words, and you swallow thickly.

“I don’t think you have a problem cumming,” Seungcheol muses, stroking your thigh. “I think no man has put an effort into foreplay or eating you out, which is a shame.”

“You really… you don’t think anything is wrong with me?”

“There was never anything wrong with you, Doll, you should know by now that most things in this world are a man’s own fault, they just push it onto the women who are around them because they lack the emotional maturity to take accountability for their own failings.”

You let out a sad chuckle, shocked at the words that have just come out of his mouth. “You’re deeper than I ever imagined you would be, Cheol.”

“Baby, you have no clue how deep I can be, but you’re about to find out… you can cum, by the way, you don’t need my permission.”

Your heart skips a beat as his mouth returns to your pussy, and this time, he doesn’t tease around, it’s clear to him that your clit is ready to be properly stimulated, and you get the sense that Seungcheol would never deny you anything, least of all an orgasm.

He’s being rougher with your clit now, but he’s built you up to the point where you can take it. Your thighs are beginning to shake, your muscles tensing in preparation for the high that you know you’re about to hit.

You can’t help the moans slipping out of you, and there’s something so erotic about being blindfolded still- you can fully enjoy yourself, fully enjoy the masterful way Seungcheol’s mouth is working your most sensitive spot-

He sucks harshly and that’s all you need to cum, your orgasm exploding through you like fireworks. Your grip intensifies on his hair, keeping his face buried between your thighs while your entire body begins to shake with pleasure. It’s all-consuming, all-encompassing- and without a doubt, the best orgasm you’ve ever had with a man. Sure- your vibrators have been pretty amazing in the past, but fuck, there’s something about Seungcheol, something about someone else doing this to you- it gives you goosebumps as the waves of pleasure surge through you.

You’re gasping by the time you let up on his hair, and Seungcheol finally pulls away from your shaking body.

You can feel his eyes taking you in, and you slip the blindfold off, blinking up at him.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, pushing a piece of hair out of your face.

“So good,” you whimper, still trying to catch your breath.

“Do you want to stop now, or…”

Your gaze shifts down to the tent in his sweatpants- you can’t believe he’s willingly volunteering for blue balls- completely okay with having pleasured you and not getting a release for himself.

“No, I want to go all the way, clearly,” you retort. “Take your sweatpants off.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he teases, getting off the bed so he can push the black fabric down. His hard cock slaps up against his lower abdomen, and you can feel yourself practically drooling. “So… condoms?”

“I’m clean, and I’m on birth control.”

“I’m clean too, but if you don’t take my word for it, I’ve got protection-”

“Cheol,” you laugh, cutting him off, “I trust you.”

“I trust you too,” he says, getting back onto the bed with you.

He slips between your legs, his lips meeting yours desperately. Your thighs wrap around his hips, pulling him close until his cock is dragging against your pussy with each movement.

Your hands grab at his shoulders, chests pressed together now- it’s as if you’re breathing each other in. Nothing feels awkward or forced, and it definitely doesn’t feel like your first time with him. He knows you, knows what you like, what pace suits you best-

God, you’re at a very real risk of falling head over heels for this man, but you decide that’s something to worry about later.

“Cheol,” you whimper against his lips, and that’s all you need to say to him as a cue, he reaches between your bodies, grabs the base of his cock, and guides the tip to your wet hole.

“If it hurts-” he begins to say, but you draw him closer with your legs wrapped around his hips, forcing an inch of his length inside of your aching hole before he can finish his sentence. “Shit-” He cusses, breathing heavily.

He dips his head, eyes glued to the spot where he’s sinking inside of you.

An actual, honest-to-God, non-man-made material cock hasn’t been inside of you in ages, and it feels so good to have something real dragging against your sensitive inner walls. You moan immediately, throwing your head back and shutting your eyes.

Seungcheol takes the opportunity to kiss your sweet spot, teasing you as he sheaths himself all the way to the hilt. You both gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“You good?” he pants.

“So good,” you retort with another loud moan.

Seungcheol begins to move, slowly at first, allowing you to fully adjust to the size of his cock. You can feel your body relaxing, and as it gets less tense, Seungcheol’s pace begins to increase.

His lips move from your throat to your own mouth again, and the two of you kiss desperately as he fucks you.

Nothing has ever felt this right.

“Fuck, I’m close already,” Seungcheol muses.

“Then cum?”

“No, I want to enjoy this more,” he argues. “Here, can we switch positions?”

“Yeah, how do you want me?”

“Mmm… Maybe doggy? Is that okay?”

“Yeah.” You nod quickly, pressing one last kiss to his lips before he pulls out of you.

You quickly roll onto your knees, arching your back and presenting yourself to him.

“Fuck, you look good in every angle, don’t you, Doll?” he groans, massaging your ass.

“I live to please,” you tease, wiggling your bum gently.

“Shit.” Seungcheol pushes his cock into you again and you both groan. “Want you to rub your clit for me. I don’t want to cum until you cum again, want you squeezing my cock and gripping the bed sheets when we both tip over the edge.”

“Yes, Cheol,” you whimper, slipping your hand between your thighs to rub your sensitive bud while Seungcheol begins to fuck you.

His pace is slow, careful- and you’d bet your wages that he’s still close to the edge, that he’s actively trying to calm down to give you time to get there too.

One of his hands continues to massage your ass, a constant reminder of his gentle and caring nature. He’s not gripping hard or slapping- just massaging, and it feels amazing.

Each thrust has him hitting a spot deep inside of you, doggy is a great position for that kind of penetration, and once again, you close your eyes to focus on the sensation.

You rub your clit harder, and the two of you groan as your pussy squeezes around his cock in response.

“Shit, you feel so good,” Seungcheol murmurs, both hands finding your hips as he begins to fuck you faster.

“You too,” you whimper, focusing entirely on the feeling of pleasure building in your pussy. “Can you slow down for a second?”

“Yeah.” You hear him swallow thickly, his pace decreasing. “Better?”

“Yeah, I just have to- fuck, focus on my clit for a sec.”

“Take your time,” he assures you.

You relax your body, breathing deeply as you rub your clit in hard circles. Your pussy begins to clench again and Seungcheol groans-

“Almost, almost,” you whisper- you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge- “okay, fuck, I’m going to cum!”

“Should I fuck you?” he asks, and you can hear the frazzled tone in his voice.

“Yeah, fuck me, shit, fuck me, please!” you cry out desperately, so close to the edge that you can taste it-

“You got it, Doll.”

And just like that, he’s pistoning into you. The feeling of his cock filling you up is the cherry on top of your pleasure, and you release a strangled whimper- “Cumming!”

“Fuck,” Seungcheol groans behind you as your pussy clamps down hard on him, squeezing him like a vice.

His thrusts momentarily falter as your core throbs around him, and then his fingers are digging into your hips. “I’m cumming too-” he tells you, and you can feel his cum beginning to fill you up.

It feels so fucking good to be filled like this again, and you gasp as you both cum together. Your hands ball up in the fabric of his bed like an anchor, your entire body consumed by pleasure for the second time tonight.

The groans leaving Seungcheol’s lips are a whole different kind of sexy, and you focus on him as you both begin to come down from your highs.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol moans, stopping behind you, his hands smoothing up and down your back again. “You good?”

“So good,” you whimper.

“I’m going to go get you a cloth, and then we should have a shower together.”

“I’m so tired though-” you begin to argue.

“Doll, you might not be used to men taking care of you, but I want to be the person who makes you feel good, and part of that, is having a nice shower after sex, then cuddling up in bed. Do you trust me?”

“Yes, Seungcheol,” you smile, “I trust you.”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! we love feminist!Seungcheol in this house!

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🔮 preview. You’ve realized in the couple of months you’ve been dating Seungcheol that with the right person, cumming can happen. It’s not that it’s necessarily easy yet, but it’s not some all-consuming, anxiety-inducing hurdle to jump over with a man who isn’t supporting you at all.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, body worship, blow job/oral, hand job, multiple positions, Cheol is impatient and needy when reader is giving, praise, dirty talk, teasing, masturbation, etc… I petnames. (hers) Doll.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.3k I teaser wc. 160

🌙 starring. Seungcheol x afab!Reader

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“You look upset,” Vernon muses as you take a breather at the bar while waiting for cocktails to be made.

“Do I?” you sigh, closing your eyes to center yourself.

“Did uh… did something happen with Seungcheol?”

“What? God, no.” An awkward laugh tumbles from your lips. “Do I seriously look that upset?”

“You definitely look off,” Vernon points out.

“It’s just…” you exhale deeply, “you know, being in bottle service, getting hit on is part of my job, being a little flirty is how I make the most tips-”

“But you feel like that’s not being nice to Seungcheol,” your manager finishes for you, hitting the nail on the head.

“Exactly.”

“I mean…” Vernon’s gaze shifts to the bouncer by the door. “He doesn’t strike me as a jealous person.”

“And he’s not,” you’re quick to assure him, “that’s not the problem.”

“So… if he doesn’t care, then… what do the kids say these days? Make that bag? Make that money to buy that bag?”

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#seungcheol smut #svthub #thediamondlifenetwork #choi seungcheol #choi seungcheol smut #seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #svt #svt smut #seventeen #seventeen smut #s.coups #s.coups smut #s.coups svt

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ivyyisbored22 · 17 days ago

Text

𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐞—𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Biker AU, Stray Kids one shot

Synopsis: A certain dark haired leader of a biker club caught your attention online and you've been watching his weekly races in secret—or so you thought. Little did you know, this handsome biker already knows about his cute little stalker...

Content Warnings: Stalking but online. Smut🔞 after a bit of plot. Unprotected sex, P in V (from the behind), riding, rough, dirty talk(?), ass slapping, pet names, choking(kinda—), aftercare in the shower. Chris is a tease (maybe like a bit?).

Minors do not interact!!!

Note: 17 days late, but better than never— HAPPY NEW YEAR! I've been wanting to draw and write biker Chan for a LONG LONG TIME, so finally here it is. (Yes that drawing is done by me haha)

If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it. Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.

ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜ��ʀᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

Word count: 5.6k

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Zoom

The bike flashed away into the stretching tracks in a blink of an eye, leaving a trail of excitement and dust in its wake. The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices drowned out by the fading growl of the engine.

You pushed your hood further over your head to cover your hair flying in that direction, blending into the mass of onlookers while your eyes stayed glued to the figure disappearing into the night.

Christopher Bang Chan.

Did an accidental misclick on a hashtag "NightRider" lead you into his world? Yes.

You did have an unexplainable attraction towards bikes. It was the thrill, the speed, the freedom. Even if you couldn't ride one, the way bikes looked like a beast that could conquer the roads, it fascinated you.

But this— this wasn't just an attraction towards the sleek BMW S1000rr that was speeding this evening. No.

A random late-night scroll had led you to a short video of him—helmet off, his hair dark slightly tousled, a cocky grin tugging at his lips as he dismounted his bike like he owned the world. That pulled you like a magnet to steel.

You watched him, racing the tracks with swift motion, in practice ease, over taking every other rider, everything about him demanding attention.

Every other rider was left in his dust, and the cheers of his friends, 7 guys echoed above the deafening roar of the engines.

"Teach these bastards why they can’t touch you!” one of them bellowed, pumping his fist in the air, his blood red hair catching the rays of the setting sun.

“Eat that, losers!” another laughed, slapping the back of the guy next to him as they all leaned against their bikes, eyes glued to Chan’s figure dominating the track.

In a final swift, Chan drifted his bike as he reached the finish line, the tires screeching against the asphalt in a perfect arc. A plume of smoke curled up from under the wheels, his dimpled grin flashing at his victory and triumph.

The lingering growl of his bike continued as he sat there for a moment, one leg propped on the ground as if soaking in the chaos he had just commanded. His friends were the loudest of all, their jeers and cackles cutting through the noise.

Chan finally killed the engine and swung off the bike with the same effortless grace that had first caught your attention online. He pulled off his helmet, shaking his head slightly to ruffle his dark hair into place.

His eyes gleamed with a mix of adrenaline and triumph as he tucked the helmet under one arm and began walking toward his friends.

“That’s how it’s done, you fucking legend!” yelled one in a strong Australian accent, smacking Chan’s shoulder, the redhead taking his helmet from him and handing in a water bottle.

“Told you it wasn’t even a competition,” Chan quipped, his voice smooth but laced with that cocky edge that made your stomach flip.

The crowd began descending, slowly leaving you alone in your place, your hood over your head, covering your face slightly. Just as you were about to look away, his eyes briefly landed on you.

Your breath caught in your throat at the intensity of his gaze on you. It was like he knew who you were but that was impossible. You've been secretly coming to the race every Saturday (telling your parents that you're going to the library) ever since you discovered his page and of course he doesn't know who you are.

It's out of the question.

Chan's smirk deepened, something wicked flashing in his expression. You quickly looked away, pretending to fidget with your phone, but you could still feel the heat of his gaze.

Before you made a fool of yourself, you stood up and walked towards the end of the track, pulling your hood lower to shield your face. Just as you were about to step into the shadows, a sharp, confident whistle cut through the air, freezing you in your tracks.

Your heart was pounding in your ears, you didn't turn around but felt Chan's lingering gaze pressing against your back. You turned slightly to see through your shoulders but then turned around and walked away as if you didn't hear anything at all.

“That chick’s been here for the last four weeks.” Minho commented, his voice casual as he tipped back his can of Red Bull.

Chan didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still fixed on the spot where you had disappeared into the shadows. His jaw tensed slightly, a flicker of something unreadable flashing in his gaze.

He could still picture the way you had glanced over your shoulder for a split second, like you’d been caught but refused to admit it.

"Oi, Chan," Felix called out, snapping him out of his thoughts. "You losing your touch, mate?"

The group erupted in laughter, their cackles echoing against the emptying track.

“Maybe she’s got better taste than you thought,” I.N added, smirking as he leaned against his own bike.

"She’ll come around." Chan said smoothly, shrugging nonchalantly, the cocky edge in his voice masking the intrigue bubbling beneath the surface.

"Will she now?" Hyunjin mocked, raising an eyebrow. "What makes you so sure?"

"Trust me," he said, his tone low and deliberate. "No one comes to my races four weeks in a row without a reason." A devilish smirk tipped the corner of his lips that made the guys exchange glances.

"Whatever you're thinking, don't." Changbin interrupted, pushing himself upright with a sharp look.

"You don't even know what I was thinking." Chan shot back, running a hand through his dark, tousled hair. "Besides, if she keeps coming back, she’s going to slip up eventually. And when she does…”

Changbin rolled his eyes at him and grabbed a Red Bull from the ice box. He knew that Chan wasn't going to listen to what he's gonna say anyway.

Chan walked towards his bike and hoped on, revving his engine as it roared to life and slipping his helmet on. He glanced at his friends, his smirk turning downright wicked.

"Then what?" Hyunjin asked, crossing his arms.

"She wanted my attention, so she got it. And I want something in return.”

With that, he sped off into the night, leaving the guys behind in a cloud of smoke and laughter.

***

"Three, two, one, let's gooo!..."

You kept scrolling through Instagram reels, nothing interesting that grabbed your attention.

But you couldn't stop thinking about Chan...

It's Saturday, four o'clock in the evening. His races start at five. You went through his Instagram and TikTok, creating a folder in your saves for his biking videos and you catch yourself rewatching his highlights again and again.

Were you guilty for stalking him online? A bit—but you couldn't stop it. His bike didn't even fascinate you anymore the way it did the first time. You just were feeling obsessed with him.

The race track was only a few blocks away from you and you couldn't help but think, could he have crossed your home? You never noticed it but now everytime you hear a speeding engine, you look out your window, hoping it's Chan.

Yeah you were pretty much obsessed.

You went back to Chan's account and scrolled down his feed, opening some of his old posts when suddenly the phone slipped out of your hand and fell on your face.

"Fuck!" You yelped, rubbing your forehead, eyes widening as you glanced at the screen in horror.

Oh fuck—

You accidentally liked a picture of him from two years ago.

The red heart stared back at you, mocking your clumsiness, your heart sank as panic took over.

“Oh, no, no, no…” you whispered, scrambling to unlike it. You tapped the heart again, watching it disappear, but the damage was already done. Your phone trembled in your hands as you stared at the post, your reflection visible in the darkened screen.

It was a picture of him leaning casually against his bike, wearing a tank top with his buff arms crossed, a majestically inked dragon flexing on his bicep.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath, clutching your forehead. Does he get notifications for old likes? Does Instagram even do that?

You sat up, your mind racing just as fast as his bike. He had half a million followers, so maybe he wouldn’t notice, right? But what if he did? What if he checked? What if he remembered your face from the track and connected the dots?

"Calm down," you whispered, trying to reason with yourself. "He probably won’t even notice."

But deep down, a small voice in the back of your mind said otherwise.

Because if there was one thing you’d learned about Chan from watching him race, it was that he noticed everything.

"She'll be here today." Chan said, tossing the Red Bull can in the trash and turning towards his friends.

Seungmin tilted his head, looking up from his phone, arching a skeptical brow. "Oh, so now you're a psychic?"

Chan rolled his eyes, leaning casually against his bike. “No. She's been coming every Saturday, there's no way she'll not come today."

“You’ve been stalking your stalker?” Felix chimed in, his deep voice carrying a note of amusement as he slipped his hands in the pocket of his pants.

Chan smirked, unbothered by the jab. “I don’t need to stalk. She makes herself obvious. Hood up, always at the same damn spot. Like clockwork.”

“Maybe she’s just here for the bikes,” Seungmin said with a shrug, going back to scrolling on his phone. Chan shook his head, his smirk widening.

Chan shook his head, his smirk widening. “Nah, it’s not the bikes anymore. Her eyes practically screamed busted when I whistled at her.”

“That’s because you’re fucking annoying.” Jisung piped up, sipping from his own can of soda. “If someone whistled at me in public, I’d leave too.”

The group laughed, but Chan’s gaze remained steady, fixed on the track like he was already envisioning you standing there.

"Race instead of me." Chan effortlessly tossed his keys at Changbin.

"What?" Changbin caught the keys with a sharp reflex, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"If she's really into the bikes, she wouldn't care if the rider is different. But if that's not the case..." His smirk grew wider.

"Then she'll know it's not me the second you hit the track." Chan finished, rolling his helmet between his hands. "She’s been watching me, not the bike. Let’s see if she’s as observant as I think."

Changbin raised an eyebrow, twirling the keys in his hand. “So, you’re basically using me as bait?”

“Not bait,” Chan corrected, handing Changbin his helmet and clapping him on the shoulder. “More like... a decoy. Just ride, keep it clean, and make it convincing. Wear my helmet, keep your head down, and let me handle the rest.”

“This is either genius or the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.” Felix said, shaking his head.

“Shut up and watch,” Chan said, his tone light but confident. He turned back to Changbin. “You good?”

Changbin sighed, slipping the helmet on. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t blame me if I win and your little stalker realizes you’re not as fast as you think.”

The group laughed again, but Chan was already focused, his gaze cutting across the other riders getting ready for the race and watching the crowd gather, waiting for his shadowed muse.

The air began getting slightly colder, riders hopping on their bikes getting ready for the race. Chan stood with the guys, his back facing the crowd and his face hidden with a hoodie, watching Changbin rev up the engine.

He gave a small thumbs to Bin who responded with his own one and held the handle, preparing to flash away.

You finally managed to slowly get in your spot blending in with the crowd, your usual hood on, hair in front to shield your face, eyes glued on the riders before you.

At this point it felt silly than anything else, sneaking around every Saturday like you were some undercover agent. But you couldn’t stop yourself. The magnetic pull Chan had on you was impossible to ignore, even if you didn’t fully understand it yourself.

Your eyes scanned the lineup of riders, automatically locking onto the sleek, black BMW S1000rr. The sound of its engine roaring to life sent a familiar thrill through you, but something felt... different tonight.

The rider atop the bike gave a sharp nod, helmet obscuring his face. You couldn’t tell, but the way he usually carried himself—effortless confidence paired with a hint of smugness—seemed oddly subdued.

Your heart sank slightly. Was he even here tonight?

You pushed the thought away, gripping the edge of your hoodie to ground yourself. Focus. It didn’t matter. You were here for the race, for the thrill, not for him.

At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself since the last four races.

The countdown began, the cheers of the crowd growing louder with each passing second. The sound of engines revving filled the air, and you found yourself leaning forward slightly, anticipation buzzing through your veins.

Three... Two... One—

The riders shot forward, a blur of color and speed tearing down the track. Your eyes stayed glued to the black bike, trying to shake the unease gnawing at the back of your mind.

Is it him?

You watched curiously for the first two rounds, pushing away the feeling that it's not Chan but when it was the third round and you still didn't see his dramatic drift at the curved corners of the track, you were sure that it really wasn't Chan racing.

You leaned backwards exhaling and pulling out your phone, your interest in the race quietly dying down.

"I caught you princess..." A smug grin spread across Chan's face who had been secretly watching you but the race.

Hyunjin, who had also been watching you with Chan, waiting for him to be wrong, sighed dramatically, pulling a crumpled fifty out of his pocket and slapping it into Minho’s palm.

"Unbelievable," he muttered, shooting Chan a side glance. "She really is here for you man."

Chan chuckled, low and confident. “Told you,” he said, brushing past them as he made his way toward you.

You were distracted with the reels playing on your phone to notice until he sat next you, your eyes fell on that unmistakable silver bracelet you recognised instantly.

Your heart pounded in your ears.

“Enjoying the race?” a low, teasing voice asked, so close you could feel the faint vibration of it in your chest. You stiffened, your head snapping up.

And there he was. Bang Chan.

Sitting casually next to you, leaning back like he owned not just the seat, but the entire universe. His hoodie was slightly pushed back, giving you a perfect view of his sharp jawline and those maddening dimples that tugged at his smirk.

For the first time, you noticed how sharp his features were up close—perfectly sculpted, how his lashes framed those piercing eyes that seemed to see right through you.

You swallowed hard, your nerves threatening to spill over, but you kept your guard up and tried to calm your racing heart.

“You okay there, princess?” he drawled, his tone dripping with amusement. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or maybe... me?”

You quickly snapped out of it, your face heating. “I’m fine,” you said, sitting straighter and forcing your voice to sound steady. "And I think you've mistaken me, I don't really know you."

Your lie was so bland, it practically hung in the air like a neon sign screaming caught red-handed.

Chan raised an eyebrow, playfully scoffing as he ran a hand through his hair. “Is that so?” he said, his tone laced with mock sincerity. He leaned in slightly, and you caught a faint whiff of leather and something distinctly him—sharp, clean, and deathly intoxicating.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice firm despite the heat rising in your cheeks. “I don’t really follow bikers.”

“Hmm.” He tapped his chin theatrically, his eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “Funny, because someone who doesn’t follow bikers somehow managed to stumble across my page. And, oh, what��s this?”

He mimicked scrolling on an invisible phone, his grin wicked. “Liked a post from two years ago? Now, that’s dedication for someone who doesn’t know me.”

Your stomach did a somersault, and for a moment, you were certain your face betrayed you. But you quickly composed yourself, leaning back slightly and crossing your arms. “That was an accident,” you said coolly, trying to ignore the way your pulse thundered in your ears.

Chan tilted his head, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “So you accidentally clicked on my profile, accidentally scrolled back two years, and accidentally double-tapped? Seems like a lot of accidents for one person.”

You huffed, glaring at him. “Are you always this full of yourself?”

“Only when I’m right.” He shot back smoothly, his dimpled grin so close now, you could count the faint freckles dotting his cheekbones.

You could do nothing to calm your racing heart as Chan adjusted his seat and leaned back, watching whoever was racing in his place. He didn't say a word after that, just stayed silent and concentrated on the track.

You kept glancing at him with the corner of your eyes without fully turning, focusing on the race as well, but you could have sworn that he could hear your pounding beats in your chest over the screeching tires.

Of course whoever was riding in on behalf of Chan won tonight's race in an equally dramatic drift, you caught Chan smirking and nodding proudly. You were unsure what to do and stood in your place while the crowd began standing up, then when you were about to leave, a hand wrapped around your wrist.

"Where are you off to now?" His dark eyes glinted under the dim lights, mischief oozing from every inch of his expression.

“You’ve been sneaking in to watch the race for weeks, and now that you’ve got what you wanted, you’re just gonna leave? That’s kinda rude, don’t you think?”

You bit your lip, debating your next words. His confidence was infuriating, but it was also… dangerously attractive. Finally, you sighed, meeting his gaze head-on.

“Fine,” you said, crossing your arms. “Maybe I did. So what?”

Chan blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your honesty, before breaking into a wide grin. “Well, that’s a first. Didn’t think you’d actually own up to it.”

“Is there a point to this conversation?” you shot back, your tone laced with feigned impatience, though your pulse still raced from his lingering touch.

Chan tilted his head, eyeing you thoughtfully, then exhaled a sharp breath. “Don’t you think it’s time you saw what it’s like on the track?”

You blinked at him, your breath hitching. “What are you talking about?”

He straightened up, fixing his hoodie. “I’m offering you a ride, princess. Around the track. Are you up for it, or not?”

The sass in his tone lit a fire in you. You loved bike rides, the rush of speed, the wind in your hair—but doing it with him? That felt like stepping into dangerous territory. Still, your pride wouldn’t let you back down.

You crossed your arms, feigning indifference. “Fine. Let’s see if your riding skills are as good as your ego.”

Chan chuckled, the sound deep and low, and it sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine. “Careful what you wish for, princess,” he said, stepping closer. “You might not be able to handle it.”

You scoffed, though your heart was pounding. “We’ll see about that.”

You followed Chan as he descended the stairs and made his way towards his friends, all of them surrounded with their own bikes, cans of Red Bull, wearing leather jackets.

“Yo, I.N!” Chan called out as you approached, his voice carrying over the noise of the dispersing crowd. He looked up from his phone, his expression curious.

“What’s up?” I.N asked, his brows lifting when he saw you trailing behind Chan.

Chan jerked his chin toward I.N’s helmet, which was resting on the bike parked beside him. “Hand that over. Our guest needs it.”

I.N blinked, clearly surprised. “Wait, she’s riding with you?”

“Finally got yourself a passenger?” Minho, who was leaning casually against his own bike, snorted.

“Just a little gratitude to her for being so kind and showing up to my races every week.” Chan replied smoothly, throwing you a sidelong glance.

Your cheeks flushed crimson but you didn't say anything. You couldn't because you felt like your throat was shut tight.

The group erupted into low chuckles, Minho gave Chan a knowing look, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

“Don’t mess up my helmet,” I.N said, handing it over. “It's my favourite one.”

You hesitated for a moment, then took it, your fingers brushing against his. “Don't worry, I won't.” You said softly.

The group watched you curiously as if they were waiting for you to make a mistake but Chan’s gaze was the only one you cared about. He stepped closer, his voice dropping low enough that only you could hear.

“Nervous?” he asked, his lips twitching into a knowing smirk.

You lifted your chin, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Not even a little.”

His smirk deepened. “Good. Don't hold back and enjoy the ride.”

Changbin threw the keys at Chan and handed him the helmet, moving aside revealing the sleek black BMW, shining under the bright full moon light.

Chan got on the bike and you climbed up behind him. The tension crackled between you like static, and you couldn’t decide if you wanted to throttle him—or hold on tighter.

The engine roared to life, the deep, guttural sound vibrating through your body. Your grip on the seat tightened as Chan revved the engine, his dimpled smirk still firmly in place as he glanced back over his shoulder at you.

With a swift twist of his wrist, the bike shot forward, the sudden burst of speed forcing a gasp from your lips. Instinctively, your hands flew to his waist, gripping tightly as the world blurred around you.

The track stretched out like a silver ribbon under the moonlight, the cool night air whipping past your face, your hair dancing in the wind like a wild, untamed spirit. Chan maneuvered the bike with practiced ease, leaning into sharp turns and accelerating down straightaways.

The bike slowed slightly as he leaned into another turn, and you took the chance to glance at him. The confidence in his posture, the way his shoulders moved with the bike—it was magnetic.

“Enjoying the view?” he teased, his voice cutting through the wind.

You scowled, your cheeks heating. “Focus on the road, Chan.”

“I always do,” he replied smoothly. “But you’re making it a little hard, princess.”

Your grip on his waist tightened involuntarily, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something you might regret. The speed continued until Chan slowed down, pulling to a stop at the other side of the track, the starting point looking like the size of an ant.

The sudden stillness was deafening compared to the roar of the engine moments ago. The cool night air clung to your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating between you and Chan.

He shifted slightly, his body still straddling the bike as he turned his head toward you, his dark eyes glinting under the pale glow of the moon. “Tight grip you’ve got there, princess,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

“Didn’t think you’d want to hold on that bad.”

***

“Ah-Chan—” your moans poured out of your lips like an erotic symphony, blood rushing down like a flood bursting out of a dam as you felt his length inside of you, breasts bouncing up and down.

Oh you were holding on that bad.

“Ride my cock, baby. Good girl.” Chan hissed, your pussy clenching him so nicely it drove him wild.

What started off him not knowing your existence to getting to know eachother to now him fucking the senses out of you escalated fast.

You can't lie, you did have fantasies about him during the nights when you scrolled through his socials. Imagining how he would be in bed. Those dirty nights when you moaned his name, imagining his cock replacing your vibrator.

Would he be gentle? A complete opposite to the menace he was on the road?

Boy you were wrong. He was anything but gentle.

He was rough. Hard. Strong. And you enjoyed that very much.

Chan's hand fisted your hair as he pulled you towards him, his lips crashing yours drinking the taste of you. Your fingers clung onto his shoulder, nails grooving scars on his smooth skin, rocking your hips for more friction.

His cock filled you completely, stretching you in ways that made your vision blur. Every upward snap of his hips drove you closer to the edge, the friction against your walls making your toes curl.

“Chan—” you whimpered, breaking the kiss to gasp for air, your head falling back as his pace quickened.

He didn’t let up. If anything, the sight of you unraveling only spurred him on. His mouth trailed down your throat, teeth grazing your skin before he latched onto the sensitive spot just above your collarbone, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

His lips latched on your erect nipple, sucking and licking on it, the obscene sounds of him groaning feeling like music to your ears.

Wetness gushed down your thighs and onto his, a sinful symphony of wet, desperate noises that only fueled the fire between you.

“So fucking perfect for me.” he praised, his lips brushing against your ear as he pinched and played with your slick nipple that sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

You felt so dirty and depraved, shamelessly riding his cock, his praises turning you on even more.

“Should I punish this pussy for stalking me baby? Hmm?” His hand slipped between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen clit, triggering an orgasm to break free just from his words.

He already “punished” you for stalking him by bending you over and fucking you to oblivion on his bike a week ago but he is so cocky and mean, he loved using that every chance he got.

“Or should I fuck you from behind and wreck you till you make a sweet mess all over my cock?”

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as your release slammed through you, your body convulsing and your walls clenched around him, drawing a deep, guttural moan from his lips.

You couldn't even process the aftershocks of your climax and before you knew it, you were on all fours, Chan's eyes glued on your glistening slick pussy, the angry tip of his cock grazing and teasing your swollen folds.

“Chan— mngh,” you pushed back against him, whining with need, feeling the anticipation rebuild as you kept feeling the tip nudge against your entrance.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” he teased, his voice a dark purr that sent a shiver down your spine. “Barely gave you time to breathe, and here you are, already begging for me to ruin you again.”

Your fingers clenched the sheets, your body trembling from the mix of frustration and desire. “Please, Chan,” you breathed, voice muffled and desperate.

“Please, what?” he sneered, leaning down so his chest pressed against your back, his silver chain and bracelet on his wrist touching your skin, cold.

His breath was hot against your ear, and his hand slid up your body to grip your throat. “You want me to fuck you? Say it.”

Your cheeks burned, but the heat between your legs overshadowed any embarrassment. “I need you to fuck me, Chan,” you whispered, then louder, “Ruin me. Wreck me.”

He groaned at your words, his hand tightening slightly around your throat. “Good girl. That’s what I like to hear.”

Without another word, he thrust into you in one brutal stroke, knocking the air from your lungs. Your hands flew forward to steady yourself, a gasp tearing from your throat as he set a punishing pace, his hips slamming into yours with a force that had the bed creaking beneath.

“Look at you,” he continued, his tone dripping with arrogance. “So fucking cock-drunk, you can’t even think straight.”

You tried to speak, but he cut you off with a sharp thrust that made you cry out. His grip on your waist was bruising, holding you in place as he pounded into you mercilessly.

Every stroke hitting deeper, harder, until you were a squirming mess beneath him. His balls slapped against your clit, an almost tight hand around your throat had your vision going white.

His teeth sank into your soft skin, leaving a ruthless mark on your shoulder and his hand met with a sharp slap! on your ass. The pleasure of it overlapped the pain, relentless drilling on your sloppy cunt that made you grab the headboard.

“FUCK! I can't—” Your cries echoed off the walls of your bedroom, loud and feral.

“You can’t what?” Chan snarled, his voice laced with mockery as he dragged his cock out almost completely before slamming back in, hitting that spot and your skin meeting with another sharp slap!

His teeth grazed your earlobe as his hand gripped your hip tightly, holding you in place. “Can’t take me? Too much for this tight little cunt?”

“Y-yes—no—I don’t know!” you sobbed, your fingers clawing at the headboard as your body quivered beneath him.

His hand slid up on your throat, pulling you upright so your back was flush against his chest. The new angle made you scream, his cock hitting even deeper, harder, the relentless pace leaving you on the verge of tears.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his voice gravelly and thick with lust. “Scream for me, baby. Let the whole world know who’s making you feel this good.”

The way his cock kept hitting the right spots made you climb higher and higher, the knot tightening, only seconds away from snapping, your whimpers and moans poured out endlessly.

“I'm gonna come— I'm—”

You couldn't even finish your sentence as the second orgasm left you shaking, trembling and reeling beneath him. Your walls clamped down on his cock, pulling him deeper until he spilled his seed in you.

“Fuck.” Chan groaned, his grip on your throat loosening as he chased his own release. His hips stuttered, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips, cock twitching as he pumped you full.

Breaths ragged and heavy, the room was mixed in scents of mint and sex. Chan collapsed forward, but braced himself to avoid crushing you beneath his weight.

“You did so good, baby,” He murmured, his voice low and thick, trying to catch his breath while he nipped your sensitive skin.

Both of you were drenched in sweat, the mingling of your bodies making the heat in the room unbearable, yet neither of you moved.

His cock softened inside you, but he didn’t pull out. Instead, he just leaned forward kissing the nape of your neck and shifted slightly, you winced at the feeling of him still inside you, oversensitivity making your nerves spark.

Slowly your bodies untangled and he fell on his back next to you, the both of you just lay there, staring at the ceiling, the weight of what just happened settling in.

You gently turned your head to see Chan, who was lost in his own thoughts. He felt you watching him and he turned too, a soft smile tipping the corner of his lips, his fingers brushing a few strands of hair from your face.

His eyes trailed down your body, skin peppered with his bite marks and hickeys, something unusually painful stung in his chest even though he had never felt that before.

You moved closer to him, pecking a sweet kiss on his nose that made him knit his brows smiling.

“I’m okay, you didn’t hurt me if you think you did.” You said reassuringly.

Chan let out a soft breath, his smile faltering for a moment as he studied your face. His fingers ghosted over a particularly dark bruise on your collarbone, his touch featherlight.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, his teasing edge nowhere to be found.

You rolled your eyes, the faintest smile tugging at your lips. “Of course.” He huffed out a laugh, the sound vibrating against your cheek and kissed your forehead.

Chan got up from the bed and carried you in his arms towards the shower, you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, letting out a content sigh as your head rested against his chest.

Under the spraying water, the steam curled around the two of you, but his touch was what kept you warm.

He grabbed a washcloth and the soap, lathering it before starting at your shoulders. His touch was slow and deliberate, careful not to press too hard as he cleaned every inch of your skin.

When he reached your bruised hips, his lips ghosted over one of the marks that made your heart flutter.

Once he was satisfied, he handed you the cloth, smirking faintly. “Your turn, princess.”

You laughed softly, taking it from him and mimicking his careful actions. You then saw the scratch marks and crescent scars you had left on his skin, etched like tiny badges.

Your fingers ghosted over them as you cleaned him, a pang of guilt flashing through your chest.

“Sorry about these,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Chan chuckled, his smirk softening into something warmer. “Don’t be. I like them."

Heat rose up your cheeks and you let out a small laugh, shaking your head.

When you reached his bicep, you couldn’t resist tracing the outline of his tattoo, your fingers brushing over the ink that decorated his skin.

“You really are full of surprises,” you said, your voice soft.

His brow quirked. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like this,” you said, gesturing between the two of you. “The rough biker with the soft side. Didn’t think I’d ever see it.”

He smirked, pulling you closer under the spray of water. “Don’t tell anyone. You’ll ruin my reputation.”

You rolled your eyes but leaned into him anyway, letting the water cascade over both of you. Pearl-like drops of water slid down your bodies, your back pressed against the cold titles as Chan's mouth claimed yours.

After the shower Chan changed into his clothes and you slipped into comfy sweats, he grabbed his keys and helmet from the living room, walking toward the door with a cool, confident stride.

“My race is on Saturday,” He said, slipping on his helmet. “I hope you'll be there, princess.”

A chuckle escaped from your lips, your mind going back to how you went watch his races every Saturday without him knowing who you were.

“I guess I’ll see you there, then.”

Chan nodded, opening the front door and stepping out, you watched him climb on his bike, revving the engine back to life. With a twist on the handle, he zoomed out into the night, flashing away into the stretching darkness leaving a trail of himself behind.

You couldn’t help but think that stumbling across that video online of a certain biker had definitely been the best misstep of your life.

Enjoyed this one shot? Consider checking my masterlist for more. Requests? Check 𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 (& 𝚁𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜)

Here's a bigger and better quality picture of my drawing of Biker Chan:

Thank you for reading!

xx,

Ivyy

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skzdarlings · 6 months ago

Text

everything ; skz ; werewolf!felix x reader

requested by @yongbbokkie: if possible, can I have Sunshine!Felix with the prompt/s: ❛ i'm waiting for your permission to let me have my way with you. ❜ and ❛ do whatever you want with me, i'm yours. ❜

((maybe it's a pining from afar situation and something puts them in close quarters and Felix just can't help himself anymore))

read on ao3

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: werewolf!au. friends2lovers. miscommunication and misunderstandings followed by resolution and smut. mentions of reader being in a past abusive relationship though the circumstances are not detailed. not omegaverse just werewolves but mentions of rut cycles and slightly different physiology.

this is, um, the wettest thing i've ever written. there is no other word for it. so much come, masturbating (reader walks in on felix), pervy masturbating using reader's stuff lol, massive breeding kink, multiple rounds, scenting, possessiveness, throat-grabbing, biting, pussy eating, squirting, dirty talk. did i mention come.

word count: 15800 words. (hope it makes up for the delay hehe)

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy <3

For a few moments, Felix is yours. There is no awkwardness, no reluctance, just dancing, just friendship.

The club is packed so tightly, the lights and music as roaring as lightning and thunder. The extra stimulation overwhelms the senses, even werewolf senses. He doesn’t think and neither do you. You just dance, finding each other in the bouncing circle of your half-drunk friend group. He smiles and you take his hand, letting him pull you across the dance floor and into his arms.

You’ve missed this smile. You’ve missed these arms.

Sure, Felix is still your best friend and he is never truly far. The distance is not literal, just emotional, and that is so much worse.

Ever since his werewolf genes kicked in, ever since a pack took him in, things have just been… different.

Right now, you can pretend nothing has changed. You are far away from ivory moons waning over woodlands, of werewolf packs and supernatural powers. His senses are diluted here, overpowered by so many moving bodies and so much wild noise.

Felix smiles, that wonderful big smile that crinkles his eyes so sweetly. Lights flash over him, his blonde hair nearly glowing, his freckles like stars. He’s your best friend again. All yours for a few precious moments.

He’s bigger than he was, you think, with a bit of a flush, as you dance closer to him, his arms circling your body. Or maybe I just never noticed before.

Felix is not very tall, but he is not small either, lean and athletic and confident in every inch of his body. It feels like he is everywhere. Every time a strobe light flashes over him, he seems a little closer. You breathe in his cologne, subtler than it used to be because his sense of smell is so powerful now, but still recognizable.

You are definitely not a werewolf, but you are captivated by that smell. Something oak, woodsy, masculine but pretty. So very Felix. You want to bathe in that smell, luxuriate in him. You spent so many nights curled into his side, sharing his bed, wearing one of his hoodies, that you associate that scent with everything good, safe, and home.

His hands dance up your sides very softly, his breath puffing across your cheek as you dance and dance. One song pours into the next. You lose track of time. In forgetting the world, you forget yourself. You slide your arms around his shoulders and press close to him.

You used to hug him like this so easily, but you have hardly touched him at all the last few months. Felix could never be cruel to anyone so he has not outright rejected your usual closeness, but it is obvious that your touch now makes him uncomfortable. The last thing you ever, ever want to do is hurt Felix. So you have followed his lead. Every time he accidentally pulls a face – a displeased twitch of his nose, an upset furrow of his brow – you have backed away.

It’s just the werewolf senses, you keep telling yourself. He’s more sensitive now, that’s all.

He still hugs the others. The werewolf boys love rough-housing, in fact, tumbling all over each other constantly.

That’s different. Yes, very different than this, right here, right now, his hands sliding down your sides – slowly, like he is memorizing the shape of your waist. He squeezes your hips and it fills you with heat. His hot face touches yours, cheek to cheek. The music is pounding, a frantic sound, but you are slow dancing, keeping to the rhythm of your heartbeats where they beat against each other.

You slide a hand up the back of his neck, into his long blonde hair. You feel the shudder move through his whole body. It makes your legs feel weak, realizing the effect you have on him. It seems impossible, especially with how much he has pushed you away, but there is no way he is shivering for any other reason. He cannot possibly be cold. The club is packed and, besides, he is not human. He runs hot.

So hot. He radiates it, burning where your bodies press together. Felix has always been the sunshine that keeps you warm, but this is a different heat. You know better than to succumb to it, knowing this moment will pass, but right now it is so easy to cling to him, to breathe him in, to feel like the world is just you and him.

The real world soon returns. It’s getting late so your friends call it a night.

“We’ll drop you off, yeah?” Chan says to you. Felix lives with him and the other wolves now. They all have their own apartments but they live in the same high-rise. You live a few blocks down, close, but not quite belonging.

“I don’t mind walking,” you say.

You do not want to intrude and you do not want to make Felix uncomfortable. He doesn’t even know Chan is offering you a ride because he standing so far away.

Felix is looking at his phone, slouched against the car while everyone organizes themselves. He is wearing a leather jacket, a white shirt, blue jeans, his long hair falling into his face. You want to brush it back, feel it between your fingers. You want to lift his face and see his smile.

But he doesn’t look at you. Now that you are outside, now that the heat has dissipated and the cold breeze carries your bland, dull, human scent, now that he can remember you are not special and not like him – now, he is someone else, and you are too, and it is cold and dreary and miserable.

“What?” Chan says. He is such a good pack leader and a good friend, but it makes him utterly oblivious to little dramas like this. “You’re not walking by yourself this late at night, don’t be crazy. Come on.”

The pack leader does not take no for an answer. Even though you are not in the pack, being human, there is no refusing Bang Chan. He grabs you by the wrist and drags you to his car.

Jeongin is in the front seat. Seungmin takes a back corner before Felix can lift his head, before he even knows you will be in the car too.

Felix looks tense when realizes he is trapped with you. Whether he takes the middle seat or the other corner, you will be beside him. If standing together outside is so intolerable, then being in a car is going to be torturous.

“I can walk,” you say to him.

“What?” He shakes his head. When he smiles, it is not his usual smile, not something real. You know the difference. His proper smile brightens you but this smile makes your heart sink. “Of course not,” he says. “C’mon. It’s late. Let’s get home, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, but he is already gone, taking all sense of home with him.

You take the middle seat. Felix rolls his window down and leans towards it. His eyes are closed the entire journey, the wind blowing across his tired face.

Seungmin is also a werewolf but he does not seem bothered by your human scent. Jeongin and Chan, the other packmates, likewise seem indifferent, chatting about everything and nothing, totally unperturbed. And you must cross paths with many werewolves during the day, but no one ever seems bothered by you.

Felix is the only werewolf who seems to have a problem with your scent. You do not know what it is that affects him so deeply. You have tried changing soaps and shampoos but nothing seems to help. It must be something natural to your human body. Humans do not smell like werewolves in general. Werewolves release pheromones that humans cannot smell, and it is important in forging interpersonal dynamics. That includes romance. Werewolves mate for life. You know they find their true mates through smell as much as the other senses. They are biologically wired to pursue their perfect match based on all those senses.

You are not a werewolf. You can never be his true mate. In the few months since he fully and rapidly developed his werewolf senses, Felix has withdrawn from you even though he promised it would never separate you.

You used to talk about what would happen if his werewolf genes activated. He comes from a family of werewolves but the gene lays dormant in certain carriers. Most werewolves develop in puberty if they develop at all. Some people never develop their wolven senses or powers. A minority, like Felix, are triggered by something in adulthood and succumb all at once.

It was always a possibility, however minute, but he promised things would stay the same. He said you were his person, that best friend did not even suffice as a word to describe your love.

You’re my world, you know, he said one night, speaking with the sort of earnest sincerity that only Felix could, his deep voice rumbling in your ear as you cuddled into him.

You wanted to say it back but you were hurting at the time. You ended a bad relationship a year earlier. It took your tender heart far too long to realize how badly your ex-boyfriend was treating you. When Felix found out the details, he was furious, though he kept it down around you. You had never seen your best friend so emotional. He became even more protective in the aftermath.

He showed you, time and time again, what real love is supposed to be. It doesn’t rush or demand, it doesn’t manipulate or coerce, and it doesn’t ask you to be small. He would hold you all night if that’s what you needed. He would make you laugh and let you cry.

You slowly realized true love had been in front of you, all this time, begging to be seen.

At least, you thought so. After such a bad relationship, you were taking it slow, and Felix never rushed you. You thought, maybe, one day…

But just when you were ready, everything changed. The werewolf gene unexpectedly activated. Felix was admitted to a wolven hospital and underwent his first transformation under a full moon. When he came home, he was different. Sure, he was still Felix, with his long dyed hair and his many freckles and his sun-kissed skin, but his brown eyes were so very different when he looked at you.

If he looked at you, which he avoids these days.

“Home sweet home,” Chan says, parking the car outside your apartment building.

Felix wastes no time getting out of the vehicle, practically spilling onto the sidewalk in his haste. He holds the door for you but averts his gaze.

You thank Chan, say good night to the other boys, then you shuffle across the seat and step out of the car. Felix still does not look at you, pretending he is distracted with something across the street.

You are a little tipsy, your emotions easily riled. You want to say good night so it will finally prompt him to look at you, but you are suddenly very choked up. Thoughtlessly, you touch his arm instead.

He flinches. It feels worse than a slap.

You do not look at him again, hurrying to the building before he can see the tears in your eyes.

Miraculously, you hold them in until you reach your apartment. You are one foot in the doorway when the tears spill, all the emotions you’ve suppressed over the last few months finally flooding free. The door falls closed with a slam and the whole world collapses under you.

You drop right there, knees pulled up to your chest and face buried in your hands.

You spent so many nights like this, crying all alone until you worked up the courage to tell Felix about your bad relationship. He was immediately understanding. It was so foolish to fear he would ever judge you. He put an arm around you and held you all night.

He is the person you want to call when you are hurting. It is agonizing to be without him. He is the one person you need and the one person you cannot call right now.

You let yourself feel sorry and miserable. When the tears have subsided and you are slouched against your door, empty and tired, you make a decision to end this. You have spent too much of your life collapsed on the floor and crying on your lonesome. You refuse to do it again.

As horrible as it is, you need to distance yourself from Felix. This slow deterioration of your relationship is excruciating. If he decides to reach out, you will be there, but you simply cannot continue to compromise yourself.

You somehow manage to wash up and get in bed. You sleep through the morning and rise late, delaying the inevitable a little longer by scrolling on your phone. Felix used to be the first text of the day but there is nothing from him. You would usually message anyway but today you put your phone aside and get out of bed.

So much of Felix is in your apartment. Borrowed hoodies, games, books, and so much more. Items are littered everywhere from the bedroom to the bathroom to the kitchen and back. It takes an hour and you are not sure you find everything because he is so inextricably woven into your living space. You do not even see it anymore because it – because he – is always there.

You fill a cardboard box. Your plan is to walk the couple blocks to the high-rise and return it with a vague explanation. You are not sure what to say. Perhaps it is best to opt for brevity. After all, this is not a break-up because you are not a couple.

No, you think, staring at the full box with watery eyes, this is worse.

You make it a few steps out your door before you drop the box. It is way, way too heavy for you to carry two feet, never mind two city blocks. Already panting with exertion, you stare at the box taking up a huge slab of the narrow corridor.

You really don’t want to ask him to come get it, nor do you want to make multiple trips. You are scared that if you give him the opportunity, he will try and reassure you that nothing is wrong and you don’t need to do this. You’ll believe him in the moment, but then it will start all over again.

Like ripping off a bandage, it has to go all at once. It’s time to heal.

You push the box, budging it down the corridor inch by slow inch. You reach the elevator and press the call button. You calculate the logistics of pushing and shoving the box for two blocks, mostly concerned the cardboard will rip if it snags on something outside.

Lost in thought, you don’t see a person in the elevator and accidentally shove the box at him. He yelps, a loud cry of surprise as he jumps aside. It makes you leap out of your skin, shooting upright to look at him.

Some of your despondency leaves at the friendly face of your neighbour.

“Changbin!” you say. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even see you there.”

“Hey now,” he says, winking, his handsome face plastered with a grin, “I’m not that short.”

“No, of course not,” you say, laughing along with him.

Changbin is a werewolf as well. There are a lot of packs on this side of town because the large national park is nearby. The wolves like to use the expansive forest when the full moon cycle swings around.

“Moving out?” he asks with an eyebrow quirk.

“Ah,” you say. “Not quite.”

You explain your predicament, that the box belongs to a friend and you need to somehow reach his apartment building two blocks away. Changbin, ever the charmer and ever the helper, immediately offers his aid.

“Oh, you don’t have to—” you start, but he has already swung the big box into his arms.

Werewolves do have supernatural strength. Changbin looks strong, with big biceps and a stocky frame, never mind the supernatural enhancement. He doesn’t even break a sweat. The box might as well be empty for all the difference it makes to him.

He is kind enough to walk two blocks to the high-rise. You chat on the way and find the conversation flows easily. You also can’t help but notice he has no problem with your scent. It really is just Felix who seems so repulsed.

You ring the buzzer for Felix’s apartment but there is no answer. You try a couple more times, embarrassed because Changbin is waiting. Fortunately, he is very non-plussed, humming to himself while you ring the buzzer.

After a few tries, you ring Chan instead. He answers promptly and you explain the bare bones of the situation, that you have a box for Felix and you would appreciate if he could pass it along. Chan agrees, of course.

Maybe it is for the best. You can leave the box with Chan and not even have to confront Felix at all.

Chan buzzes you into the building. Changbin walks you to the elevator where he puts the box down. You thank him profusely but he waves it off and states he was happy to help.

It looks like he wants to say something more, looking at you while he rubs the back of his neck. In the end, he says he will see you around and departs.

You exhale. The worst of your nerves have dissipated since Felix is not even home. You have been the one instigating your interactions the last few months so you figure if you just quietly step back, he won’t even notice.

It pains you to admit it, that you could disappear from his life and he would just… not care. You stuff those feelings down, down, down for now. You prepare a friendly smile for Chan so he doesn’t ask too many questions.

When you reach the pack floor, you give the box a good shove into the corridor. Chan lives directly across from the elevator so you don’t have far to go.

Except there are voices in the corridor. You turn towards the sound.

An awful chill freezes in your blood, your whole body going rigid at what you see.

Felix is home. He is standing in his open doorway, half-dressed in a pair of jeans and nothing more. His long hair looks more dishevelled than usual, like someone has been running their fingers through it.

Someone. He is talking to a young woman. You don’t know her too well, simply that she is the only female werewolf in Chan’s small pack. She is wearing more clothes than Felix but still very casual in shorts and a t-shirt, barefoot like this is her home. You suppose it is, much more her home than yours.

She belongs. You do not.

Her and Felix are standing close while they converse. So close. They speak to each other in hushed tones, her expression tender and sympathetic while Felix winces in seeming pain. The details of their conversation are inarticulate at a distance but their voices are nonetheless audible.

Your scent reaches Felix first. He straightens so fast it would be comical under any other circumstances.

Nothing is funny right now. You feel like a complete and utter fool, standing in his corridor with a box of his things like he cares about them at all. He has already moved on. You were in denial, a stupid little human girl still clinging desperately to old memories.

“I better go,” the woman says. She leans up and kisses Felix on the cheek, gives him a little wink and mumbles something only he can hear. She turns and walks into the apartment next door, giving you a genuinely friendly wave. She has always been polite to you and you have no reason to dislike her. You can only wave back pathetically.

Your hand slaps your side when she disappears into her apartment. You and Felix look at each other.

He looks guilty. Sweat dots his hairline, streaks his bare chest, and his face is flushed. It is very obvious what he has been doing all morning.

The thought of such a fantasy was once tantalizing. The sight of him, like this, would make you dizzy. You remember the last time he casually took off his shirt, the swoop of desire that moved inside you, a sensation you did not even know you could still feel after your bad relationship.

Now that swoop is just nausea. There is no pleasure in it at all.

You are completely mortified.

“Hey,” Felix says. His deep voice breaks on a high-pitched twinge. He clears his throat. “Um,” he says. He runs his fingers through his hair, mussing it even more. He can’t seem to bring himself to meet your gaze, eyes darting all over the corridor but never you.

You curl your fingers, nails pressing hard into your palm.

“Look,” he says, clearing his throat again. “We need to talk about—”

You don’t want to hear it. You can’t hear it. You are hurt and embarrassed and devastated. Why couldn’t he just tell you he wanted to pursue a werewolf? It makes sense, biologically, and you can hardly fault him for the desire. Honesty would have hurt but not like this. Now you have to suffer the rejection of the only man you ever truly loved and suffer the fact you were not even worth a conversation.

It is too late to talk.

“It’s fine, Felix,” you say. All your messy, menial scripts crumble in your mind. Emotion takes over, bitterness and pain and irritation. “I brought you your things,” you say, pointing to the box. His eyes dart there for the first time, brow furrowing. “If I find anymore, I’ll give them to Chan. He’ll pass them along.”

“Um, what?” He looks from the box to you.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you say, blinking back tears. Your feelings come out in fragments, word after word with little coherency. “After everything I went through last year – I just – this is too much. The werewolf thing – I just – I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t have you in my life like this. Thank you for your friendship. The memories will always be important to me. But it’s for the best we don’t see each other again.”

You had not planned on so much finality, but that was before. Now you need to leave. If you stay here another second, you are going to fall apart.

“Good luck with everything,” you say.

You turn to leave but he says your name. You suck in a breath, wait a beat, and slowly turn back around.

Felix walks partway down the hallway, his whole face screwed up with pain and confusion. His mouth is moving but no words are coming out. Finally he closes his eyes and shakes his head, slamming a hand into his hair.

“Hold on,” he says. “Hold on, I – what are you talking about? You – you don’t want to be friends? How can – You can’t—” That deep voice breaks again, fracturing with emotion.

A part of you knows that you are being too harsh, letting your own emotions dominate your words. Another part of you is too heartbroken to care.

“It’s for the best,” you say weakly, your voice barely more than a breath of a sound. “Really.”

“For the best?” he asks, voice pitching up again. He has not looked at you so intensely for so long. “How can you say that to me?”

Much to your horror, he starts crying first. His tears seem to catch him by surprise too, his expression puckering as he tries to stop it. A hand flies up, covering his eyes. He shakes his head rapidly.

“Felix,” you whisper.

“For the best?” he repeats. He drops his hand and takes a shuddering breath.

You avert your gaze. You can’t stand to look at his eyes so full of tears, his face so strained with hurt.

“Did something happen?” he asks, taking a few more steps towards you. “Was it – was it me? You said – the werewolf thing – Did I do something? Please, please tell me.”

He doesn’t even realize how much he has withdrawn from you. He is bad at controlling his face, as evidenced now, so he probably has no idea how blatant his repulsion has been. Maybe he thought he was being subtle. Maybe he thought you wouldn’t care, that you were just his friend and you would be content to relegate yourself to the sidelines of his life. Maybe that is all your fault after all.

If you were a better friend, you would have coped with his new feelings. You would have been happy for him. If you were a better friend, maybe he would have told you sooner.

“You deserve a better friend than me,” you say.

He looks at you like you are completely crazy, his head tilted, his eyes narrowing.

“What?” he asks. “Where is this coming from? Please, I don’t understand. You can’t be saying what I think you’re saying.”

“I already told you,” you say, as calmly as you can. “I just can’t do this anymore. Our lives are heading in different directions and I – I – I just need to go. I want to go. Please.”

You have known Felix all your life. You were children together, hapless youths on a playground that immediately loved each other with the easy, thoughtless affection of childhood.

He reminds you of that child now, innocently standing in the corridor with his arms hanging limp at his sides and so much bewilderment on his freckled face.

“You want to go?” he repeats, voice low, soft.

You nod. After a second, he nods back, bottom lip still quivering. A fresh stream of tears spill over his eyes. He hiccups on a sob, turning away and covering his face.

“Fine,” he says, speaking between shaky breaths. “Go. I can’t – I can’t keep you here if you want to go.”

“Thank you,” you say softly. The elevator is still waiting when you press the call button. You step onto it and say, “Good bye, Felix.”

As the doors close, you hear another choking sob. You name is lost in the sound.

The door closes.

The regret is instantaneous. You stare at your phone for hours and even debate returning to his apartment, but in the end you do nothing.

You replay every moment, from seeing him with the other werewolf to his confusion and your departure. It was a long, long walk home, tears streaming down your face as your mind went back even further, remembering every moment of your friendship.

How could this have happened? You and Felix have always been open with each other. He was the first person you confided in about your bad relationship and he immediately did everything to save you from it. But when it was the other way around, when the werewolf gene activated, he turned away from your friendship. You poured your heart out to him, trusting he would catch it and keep it safe, but he did not feel the same way.

Secrets, confusion, heartbreak. It plays on a loop in your mind.

It is the middle of the night when you get a text. He has not messaged in a while, not in a substantial way. If you scroll back on your phone, you can see the disintegration of communication, the days when he would send message after message with any and every thought slowly petering down to brief replies and a vague acknowledgement at the very best.

This message is more. You can hear his voice when you read it, can picture those dark eyes.

Tell me this isn’t real. Please.

You feel sick. You are angry at him for being the one to withdraw only to suddenly turn on his heel. You are angry at yourself for reacting so drastically and immaturely. Mostly, you are just sad.

If I did something, I’m sorry, he writes. I’ll never stop being sorry. I’ll fix it. I’ll keep my distance. Just don’t say I can never see you again.

You type a reply, then delete it, then repeat.

You say nothing. Every time you try, you see him and her in that corridor, you see him flinching from your touch, you see him recoiling at your scent. It twists and tangles with memories of warm nights and tender smiles. You wipe your tears and remember when he did it for you, his thumb so gently sweeping your cheek. He used to touch you like you were precious to him. Now he flinches from your touch.

He does not text the next day, or the day after, or the day after that. You are not sure if it is better or worse.

After about a week, he messages again, stating, I miss you.

You are at your work desk but he immediately seizes your full attention, as he always has.

You stare at your phone. You take a breath. You have had a few days to decompress, to let the wound bleed. It is still sore to the touch.

You write, I miss you too.

You do not check your phone for a while, listening to the relentless buzz as he sends eager message after eager message. It feels like the old days for a minute, but slows to a stop when you do not reply. You read them back later, his pleading, his sweetness. It makes you spiral, on the one hand wanting to take it all back, but on the other hand picturing his flinch, his disgust, knowing it is only a matter of time before your heart breaks again.

You do not reply. He takes the hint and gives you a few more days, then he messages, I still have your stuff in my place too, you know?

I know, is all you say. I have more of your stuff too.

As predicted, you have been finding his things all over the apartment. Even things which are technically yours are still stamped with his memory. He helped you move into this place after the break-up. He took you shopping and paid for so many things to get you back on your feet. Everything from blankets to cushions to plates make you think of him. This was just a room before he made it a home. Without him, it is just a room again.

There are a couple days of silence, then some of his packmates start messaging you. You don’t think he is sending them after you, as Felix would never manipulate or coerce you like that. They reach out of their own volition, curious because they have not seen you in a while. But it is all so overwhelming, so you throw your phone under a pillow and go for a walk.

That is when you run into Changbin again. His smile is charming as ever when he strikes up a friendly conversation.

“I was wondering,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, not-so-inadvertently flexing his big bicep when he does, “I was going to ask a couple weeks ago, when I helped you with that box – ah, I was kicking myself after because I didn’t see you for a while. But – I thought we had a nice conversation. Maybe you and me could do something.”

“Do something,” you repeat. It sounds like he is asking you out which is a little perplexing, because he is a werewolf and you are a human. Surely nothing serious can come of it. You used to think it was possible, as there are plenty of movies and romance novels to prove it, but your personal experience has led you to other conclusions.

“A date,” he clarifies, grinning that handsome smile. “You and me. My treat. No pressure. I just think you’re clever and, ah, very beautiful, and I want to know you better.”

A polite rejection is on the tip of your tongue. You are not in any emotional state to try dating someone right now. But you think of Felix and that woman in the corridor, and you think of your phone buzzing, and you think of another long, lonely night stewing in it all.

Changbin must be looking for something casual anyway. A werewolf would not truly settle down with a human. Maybe this is a good opportunity to put yourself out there.

“Sure,” you say. “I’d like that.”

Changbin takes you out a few days later. You actually do enjoy yourself. He is very charming and it is easy to talk to him, plus the date itself is very fun. He takes you out for food then to an arcade, flopping at every game in a hilarious spectacle.

“I’m a werewolf,” he complains later. “I’m strong! Those games were rigged.”

You giggle, wrapping yourself up in the jacket he leant you. You are walking back to the apartment building, the warm evening giving way to a cool night as you make the trek. It is enjoyable until you reach the building, at which point you start to panic. Does he expect to be invited into your apartment? Does he expect… more? The thought leaves you dizzy and not in a good way. Changbin is so very handsome and so very likable. Going out with him showed you that you can enjoy yourself without the crutch of a lifelong friendship.

You don’t need Felix.

But you still want him.

You try to go back and find the moment it all went wrong, try to picture a different ending, but it feels impossible. A foolish fantasy from a girl still clinging to the dying dredges of hope and affection. There is a wonderful, handsome man at your side, a werewolf at that, and your mind is somewhere else.

Changbin remarks on it, politely but nonetheless curiously. He gives you a penetrating look, like he knows something is wrong and there is no use lying.

You sigh.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I just… I recently broke-up with a friend.”

“With a friend?” he asks, eyebrows jumping with surprise. “What kind of friend?”

“A close one, very close,” you say. “We’ve known each other forever, you see. He’s the most wonderful person I have ever known. He’s good to everyone, open-hearted, kind, warm. I have truly never known a better man. He just makes every room a little brighter when he’s in it. You would like him, I think. Everyone does. He’s a werewolf but the transformation only happened for the first time this year. Since then…” You sniffle. “Things have been different. Werewolves are biologically wired to be with other werewolves and form packs… I think my human status just started affecting him negatively.”

“Biology,” Changbin says like it is a foreign word. He looks at you with a cocked eyebrow. “It exists, yeah, but werewolves still have hearts, you know? It’s nice finding other werewolves so you aren’t alone, but it isn’t necessary. Love is complicated.”

That does give you pause for a moment. A logical part of you knows it is true, that plenty of werewolves make relationships work with humans, but that is almost harder to accept. If it’s just biological, then it cannot be helped. But if it’s a choice—

“So he isn’t biologically wired to hate me now that he’s a werewolf,” you say miserably. “It’s just something he chose to do.”

“Now, I didn’t say that,” Changbin says. “But, if that is what happened, he’s an idiot. If you were that obviously in love with me, ah, I wouldn’t let you go that easy.”

“I’m not in love with him…” The lie tumbles without an ounce of confidence. Changbin just gives you an amused look. Embarrassed, you drop your gaze. “It doesn’t matter,” you say. “He doesn’t feel the same way. Believe me, I know how he’s been looking at me, or how he won’t. That’s why I walked away. I was holding onto a friendship that once was and a fantasy that will never be. It’s time to be reasonable.”

“Ah, I don’t think love is very reasonable,” he says. “But you should stay true to yourself and do what’s right. And, in the mean time, if you need a friend…”

You exchange smiles. A weight lifts off your shoulder as Changbin changes the subject to friendship between you.

“I would like a friend,” you say. “Thank you, Changbin.”

“Ah, it’s been fun. But give me back my jacket,” he teases. “Since we’re friends I don’t need to impress you. I’m cold.”

“I thought werewolves run hot,” you say, laughing. You shrug off the coat and hand it to him.

“Eh, a little bit, maybe more than humans. But the blood really only gets hot during a rut cycle,” he says.

It is a casual statement. He is too preoccupied with zipping up his jacket to notice you get a little flustered.

You know a bit about ruts, namely that werewolves have a cycle which span a few days every month. It’s a fertility and reproduction thing, pushing developed werewolves to find mates and, well, mate them. It is a common part of the werewolf lifestyle so it is fair for Changbin to so casually mention it.

It is not because of Changbin that you feel flustered. You are thinking about Felix that night at the club, how burning hot he was compared to everyone else. Now that you think of it, not even Chan felt so hot when he grabbed your wrist, nor Seungmin beside you in the car. Felix, though, was radiating heat. Was he starting a rut cycle? Perhaps that explains why he was so hot and sweaty the next day during your confrontation.

You remember the other werewolf in the corridor. Your heart sinks again. Was she helping him through his rut? Then again, she left the second you arrived. Why were they even in the hallway? If she was spending his rut with him, surely they would have been inside together, not yapping in the hallway...

“You look worried,” Changbin says.

You are gnawing your bottom lip, eyes darting around as you contemplate that day. At his words, you blink to attention, doing your best to shake the anxiety.

“It’s nothing,” you say. “I’m just confused about so many things right now.”

“You know, if this guy really is so great and wonderful – and I think he is, if someone like you loves him so much – then he will probably be happy to answer your questions so you don’t feel so confused.”

“Ugh.” You slap a hand over your eyes and shake your head. “Why do you have to be so decent and mentally competent and right?”

“Jutdae,” he says, then flexes an arm and squeezes a bicep through the jacket. “And lots of protein.”

You laugh again. With a few more words of thanks and a promise to catch up again soon, you give him one final good night hug. He says he might meet up with some friends so you part ways, Changbin strolling while you head inside.

You look at your phone, considering his words as you ride the elevator to your floor. Changbin is right. Giving Felix the silent treatment is not helping you or him. Even though the conversation will probably be uncomfortable in so many ways, you should talk to him. It might not repair anything, but at least you will have closure. That wound cannot heal so long as it is still bleeding and festering.

You are drafting a text message in your head when you step off the elevator.

Then you lift your eyes and stumble to a stop.

Felix is sitting outside your apartment door. He is wearing jeans and a blue flannel, a denim jacket on top of that. A habitual joke is on the tip of your tongue, seeing him so decked out in his favourite colour. It disappears at the morose look on his face.

His long blonde hair is down around his shoulders, neglected black roots peeking at the crown of his head. He looks a little wan and very tired, his head lolled to the side.

He scents you before he sees you, eyes fluttering closed for a second, then he looks at you.

He really looks at you.

Felix always has such a softness in his gaze, but this look is searing. It moves through you, a forceful heat twining its way around your insides. It holds you in captivated thrall as he stands, one black boot thumping against the ground with the force of his push as he straightens himself out.

That piercing looks crinkles as more of your scent registers to him. His face twists with revulsion, except it is even more severe than usual. It is so disturbed that it makes you think his past expressions were not disgust at all, because this face is so terrorized by whatever he smells.

“Where were you?” he asks.

You have been staring at each other in silence for so long that his voice reverberates loudly in the corridor. It makes you jump as the smoothness of his deep voice pours into you. It’s only been a few weeks since you last heard him speak, but somehow you forgot how profoundly that voice could affect you, especially when he drops it so deliberately.

“Out,” you say. You are so flustered that your body goes into defense mode, your tone sharp when you say, “I don’t need your permission for that.”

That softens the slash of his gaze. He shakes his head.

“No,” he says softly. “Of course not. I’m sorry.”

His apology is so sincere, eyes searching yours for something beyond the surface. You feel like he is speaking to you without words, somehow conveying a lifetime of love in the way he looks at you, saying, it’s me.

You soften too, in every way, your voice and your posture, your heart and everything inside you. So soft and malleable, all that heat expanding in every direction until you can imagine yourself radiating it like he did. It feels so inappropriate to be aroused when there is so much drama between you, when a serious conversation needs to be had. But he is looking at you so intensely, colours of emotions playing across his face. A shaking breath draws your gaze to his lips.

He says your name. It feels like a touch. You feel dizzy again, this time in a very good way, despite yourself.

You hear his sharp intake of breath as you step a little closer. Your scent is affecting him. It makes him do a double-take, looking at you up and down without any subtlety. It is blatant, searching. For lack of a better word, predatory, a wolf on the prowl, scenting something it wants, maybe needs. Your skirt is long, sweeping past your knees, but you feel like he can see past it somehow.

His eyes, low on your body, flick up to your face. Your knees knock. That hungry look twists into something repulsed again, his brow furrowing. It darkens his whole face.

Of course. He is disgusted with you and your boring human scent and he always has been. You cannot give into hopeful delusions.

“What are you doing here?” you ask in your most casual tone, striding up to him like you are unaffected by his presence.

He steps to the side, staring while you fumble around in your purse for your keys.

“I wanted to talk,” he says.

You stare into your bag, rifling through mint wrappers and lipsticks and bus tickets. You can feel his eyes, practically burning a hole in the side of your head. You want to be chill, want to laugh and tell him he’s acting weird, to knock it off. You want to be indifferent, remind him there is a distance between you now and his staring is not appropriate.

Then he puts a hand on the door, near your head. He moves around you, undeniably scenting you as he goes. His other hand comes around the other side, caging you between him and the door. Your back is to him but you can still feel his gaze, shivering when he breathes you in.

You swallow, cringing at the wave of arousal that moves through you when his nose brushes the back of your neck.

Werewolf instincts, you remind yourself, trying to find the resolve to snap him out of it, except that’s not what you want. You want him to press right against you and put his mouth on your neck, to taste everything he is scenting.

Until you remember he hates the scent. So much so, he makes a guttural noise that sounds like a growl, rumbling at the base of his throat.

You expect him to flinch and move away. You imagine him shaking his head as he abandons his efforts to reconcile because you’re just not worth it.

You are not expecting him to say, “Why do you smell like another werewolf?”

“What?” you say. “I – I don’t—”

“Yes, you do,” he says, taking another deep breath. “It’s all over you. Who is he?”

Oh, you have been wearing Changbin’s jacket for the last half-hour. You did not notice any smell but you are not a werewolf. To Felix, you must be utterly smothered in it. You wonder if it smells like a sex pheromone, given Changbin was taking you on a date, maybe permeating a desire your human senses did not notice.

Whatever it is, it has Felix riled in a way you have never seen before. He has been very careful to hold himself in check around you. The worst of his werewolf symptoms have been hidden from the start. It is part of why you are so hurt, that he would not trust you with it.

Now it overrides his good sense. His nose swipes the back of your neck again, his fingers curling against the door where his hands sit.

“He’s just a friend,” you say.

“A friend,” he repeats. “He doesn’t smell like a friend.”

“Well, he is,” you say. All your desire, heartbreak, and desperation swell inside you, bursting like a firework, hot and crackling. With a pounding heart, you turn around to face him, intent on confrontation when you snap, “Why would that even matter to you?”

You look into his eyes. He is so close, arms around you, that woodsy scent enveloping you. It feels like coming home, falling into his gaze, letting the heat wash over you as he stares back. There is something animalistic about his intensity, a predator with its hackles raised, sights set and hunger striking.

“Felix,” you whisper, voice heavy with a thousand questions that never manifest.

One hand leaves the door. He grabs the back of your neck, not roughly, not cruelly, but with an undoubted and irrevocable command. It makes another firework burst inside you. You gasp.

That gasp is interrupted when he dives in without any hesitation, his mouth thoroughly claiming yours in a hot, desperate kiss.

Whenever you dared to fantasize a kiss with Felix, it was always soft, a little brief, giving it time to grow. You never imagined so much heat overwhelming you all at once, that his mouth would be so ravishing. You didn’t even know a kiss could move through your whole body, that when he puts his tongue in your mouth it would feel like he is already fucking you, your body throbbing with want.

It is not just werewolf instinct because you react too. You drop your purse on the floor and put your hands on him, one on his chest and the other his neck, clinging to him like he clings to you. He takes it as invitation, his other hand leaving the door to hold your waist. His grip is powerful, but despite the supernatural strength it does not hurt. No, Felix would never hurt you. Oh, it was so stupid to think he ever would.

He makes a sound that has you whimpering in turn, the low grunt pressing at your most vulnerable places. The kiss is open-mouthed, hot and wet and messy.

He walks you back that final step, pressing you to the door. He cups the back of your head so you don’t hit it.

You grab the collar of his denim jacket and yank on it, pulling him even closer. You are completely delirious with him. Everything that has happened and everything that will happen is wholly unimportant as he slots his whole body along yours.

His leg pushes between your thighs, his hips pinning you to the door. The thought would have you terrified a year ago, but now it just feels right. Of course it feels right, because this is Felix, who has seen you at your most vulnerable and healed you, who has caught you every time you fall. He will always fix what hurts. He will always take care of you.

Your body knows it, begging for him, hips rearing towards him. It presses his thigh against the juncture between your legs, makes it so your flimsy skirt doesn’t matter at all. You are not thinking when you start to rock against him.

You forgot your body could feel so much pleasure.

“Oh, fuck—” he says, his already deep voice somehow even lower as he curses.

You squeak as he holds you against the door, deliberately rocking his thigh between yours with more pressure and speed than you could manage. It makes a torrent of mortifying sounds spill past your lips, but he gathers them all up lovingly, tastes them on his tongue as he chases down your gasping breath. Every little mewl, every breath, every squeaking hiccup is swallowed up by him.

“Come for me, please,” he whispers, roughly. It sounds like begging despite how much physical power he has over you. It would scare if it was someone else, but that supernatural strength doesn’t matter because it bends to you, waiting for your permission.

You just barely remember you are in the corridor. You hope no one chooses now to step out of their apartment. You wonder if the other werewolves on the floor can scent whatever pheromones Felix must be giving off.

It doesn’t matter. You’re hurtling towards an orgasm and you can’t stop it. You’re going to come on him, just like this, fully clothed but so wet that you can feel it gushing as he grinds his thigh against you.

You grab onto his belt, feeling the curve of his bulge just below your palm. It makes his breath stutter and it makes you surrender. Your body seizes and your pussy throbs as you come, a strangled cry in your throat while rocking desperately against him.

It settles slowly, the world coming back in increments. You are breathing hard, clinging to each other, bodies still pressed so tightly together. You can feel his heart beating hard and fast. It keeps rhythm with the lingering thrum below.

So much for conversation. Grinding all over Felix in a semi-public space was not in the plan at all.

“Oh my god,” you say, voice breaking as you are hit with realization. You push at him and he goes obediently.

“Fuck,” he says, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head. He runs his hands through his hair, shakes out the length of it while breathing erratically.

Your heart is still pounding. You put your hand over your chest like that will calm it down.

Felix looks at you.

You recognize this look.

This look – this is the face you have been mistaking for disgust. Now that you have seen him truly reviled, snarling at Changbin’s scent on your body, you realize it is not disgust, not at all. It’s pain, a wincing, cringing desperation as he fights to keep everything inside him.

It is barely contained right now, his chest still heaving, his fly still bulging, hands shaking at his sides as he stares at you with open need.

“Oh my god,” you say again. You lean against the door for support, closing your eyes to try and make sense of the world. You see the events of the last month play out, the months before that, going back further and further until you shake your head to clear your mind. “I just—” You open your eyes, meet his anxious gaze. “Just give me some time,” you say. “I – I need to think – I’m so—”

“It’s okay,” he says, hands out to placate you, but careful not to touch you. He forces himself to smile despite his own emotional tumult. Sweat breaks out on his hairline. “Take your time, I – I’m sorry, I didn’t come here to—I just wanted to talk—I—”

“I know,” you say. “I know.”

He nods sharply, clearing his throat as he turns awkwardly to the side. He points vaguely behind him, stutters something like, “I’ll go, um, I’ll just—”

He turns on his heel and walks away, taking the corner to the stairwell so fast that you blink and he is gone.

You can hear him bounding down the stairs. You stand there, listening until he is too far to hear.

With every limb shaking, you pick up your purse and finally fish out your keys. You manage to turn the key in the lock and step inside before you crumple to your knees.

This time your thoughts are a very different whirlwind, just as confused and just as emotional, but so conquered by sensation that you find yourself just sitting there, touching your lips, thinking of him.

There is a lot to think about.

You realize you have been wrong about so many things. You and Felix should have spoken a long time ago. You have both been skirting each other, tentatively regarding the other, worried you might hurt them. It resulted in you both getting hurt anyway.

You are so, so scared of making that hurt worse. It makes you hesitate.

A day goes by. Felix respects your space. On the second day, when you contemplate reaching out for a conversation – a real conversation – your phone buzzes.

You are surprised to see that it is Bang Chan.

Hey, he writes. I need to talk to you right now. It’s about Felix.

Your heart-rate shoots through the roof, terror obliterating every other emotion.

Is he okay? you write. What happened??

Look, I’m just gonna say it, Chan writes. Felix is in rut. You know what that is?

Yes, you say.

At first, you are relieved he is not hurt and it is something so mundane. Then you are flustered as you recall the other night. You remember the heat between you, the way you came on his body and the way he begged for it. Even now, you are more aroused than embarrassed, shivering as you remember the way he looked at you.

Right, Chan says. Look I promise I’m not asking you to sleep with him or something. I wouldn’t do that. You have no responsibility for anything. But you also gotta know that dumb kid is in love with you, right? Like… insane in love. Like… won’t let anyone else see him or help him even though he’s a new werewolf, hasn’t had that many ruts, and it hasn’t even been a whole month since the last one.

You watch as each text appears, your adrenaline building with every word. The phone shakes in your tight grip.

Didn’t someone help him with his last rut? You ask. I saw her at his apartment.

What??? Chan answers quickly. No. I sent her over to see if he needed anything, because he kept telling me to fuck off because I was telling him to call you. I’m telling him again but he still won’t listen. You know he thinks he’s a monster right?

You are still reeling from the revelation that he and the girl were not an item at all, that they were truly just having a conversation. He was flushed and sweaty because he was in rut, not because he spent all morning with her. You were the one racing to conclusions, not even giving him a chance to explain. You remember him stepping towards you, asking to speak, but you cut him off before he could. You assumed he just wanted to reject you.

Chan says Felix is in love you. Is it possible that after a conversation with another wolf, he was gathering the courage to tell you, only for you to say you never wanted to see him again?

Now you read the last message and your heart sinks, a painfully heavy weight in your gut.

A monster? you write. What do you mean?

That doesn’t even make sense. Felix is the kindest, most loving man you know. Assuming werewolves are monstrous is such a medieval thought that it never occurred to you for a second that he would feel that way.

Yeah, Chan says. Look, he never told me the details because he said it wasn’t his story to tell, but he told me that you went through something really hard and that was why he didn’t want to stress you out with the werewolf thing. It can be pretty intense, especially at the start, and especially when you’re already an adult. He spent his whole life thinking he was one thing only for everything to change really quickly. He was really scared of coming on too strong and losing you because of it.

You made his worst fears come true, you realize, numb as you stare at the screen.

You know Felix, Chan writes, He’d rather just suffer alone than have someone else feel it too. I told him to trust you more, that you would want to help, but there’s no getting through to him when he’s like that. I love the guy but he can be kinda stubborn.

You both have a stubborn streak. The last month of drama attests to that.

What do you want me to do? you ask. You have more answers but you feel just as lost as before, maybe even more.

Can you just talk to him please? Chan says. He holed himself up in his apartment and he won’t let anyone in. He stopped answering my messages too. Ruts are a Molotov cocktail of hormones. They’re intense even if you’re experienced and he isn’t. I just don’t want him to get hurt and not do anything about it because he doesn’t want to bother anyone.

You remember Felix in that corridor, arms hanging limp at his sides, looking at you with so much hurt and sorrow. Despite that, he didn’t pressure you to stay. He listened. He let you go because he thought you wanted that. He stood by himself in that corridor, crying over a box of his things that he thought had a home with you.

Tears blur your vision. You have to rub your eyes before answering Chan.

I’ll go to him, you write. I don’t want him hurt either.

I know you don’t, Chan says. You have a spare key to his place?

Yes.

Good, Chan says. He’s not answering his door so you’re gonna need it. Give the guy a smack for me, hey?

His joke makes you laugh, though it is strained. You give yourself a second to compose yourself then you are on your feet. You are in a loose house dress and tights, face bare and hair undone, but you do not waste another second. You know you can be yourself around Felix no matter what. You wish he understood the feeling was reciprocated.

This time, instead of running away, you run to him. This time, you will make him understand.

The two city blocks pass in a blur. You have never moved so fast in all your life, bumping into slow stragglers as you barrel down the street.

By the time you step off the elevator on his floor, you are warm and out of breath. You wipe a little perspiration off your forehead as you approach.

You were so frantic in your determination to arrive, there was no time for nerves to materialize. They strike all at once, twisting anxiously as you knock. You wait a minute but he doesn’t answer, just like Chan predicted.

You take a steadying breath and put the key in the lock. Hand over your heart, you push open the door and step into the apartment.

It does not look any different from the last time you were here. Even your slippers are still by the door. You disregard them now, stepping out of your shoes and venturing forward with a nervous little patter.

If you were a werewolf, maybe you would have scented a change in the air, but it smells and feels familiar. The apartment is very still, maybe a little warmer than usual, sunlight streaming through the windows.

You finally hear a sound. You leave the small foyer and make a very clumsy entrance into the room.

You can hardly blame yourself for stumbling. Felix is sitting on the couch in nothing but a pair of jeans. It looks like the same blue jeans from the other night. Yes, in fact, you are sure they are because you can see the faintest streak on his thigh. You were embarrassed to find you were so wet that it came through your panties and skirt. You wondered if it got on him.

You certainly have an answer now.

Felix is touching himself. He is slouched back on the couch, his bare chest damp with sweat, his knees spread apart. His jeans are pulled open and it looks roughly torn, the zipper snapped off the fly. His hand is wrapped around his cock. One of your t-shirts is clutched tightly in the other hand. He is holding it against his face, covering his eyes, mouth, and nose. He is clearly chasing the scent, knuckles whitening with how tightly he grips it.

His abdomen clenches as he approaches a climax. You watch as he quickly wraps the t-shirt around his cock, fucking the material. His eyes are closed, head thrown back.

You snap to the realization that he has no idea you’re here, so overwhelmed with your scent from the shirt.

You quickly cover your eyes with both hands and yelp his name.

His reply is a startled yelp as well. You peek at him through your fingers, watching as he frantically stuffs the t-shirt between the couch cushions. He tries to stand at the same time, fighting to close his pants over an uncooperative erection that does not seem to be going down.

“Fuck, sorry, I – hold on, fuck – I can explain—” he stammers.

“Um, me too,” you say.

He can’t get his pants closed but he gets himself tucked back inside. He keeps a grip on the fly with one hand, the other running through his long hair.

Then he is standing there, flushed and out of breath. You slowly lower your fingers from your face.

There is a moment of silence, both of you startled. After a bit of staring, he cracks a nervous smile. You tentatively return it.

His brow smooths out, his dimple poking into his cheek. He chuckles first, then you laugh, then you are laughing together. It feels good, letting out all the ridiculous tension.

“Why, uhh, why are you here?” he finally asks.

“Um, Chan texted,” you say.

“Oh, for the love of—” He cuts off his own tirade, shaking his head and exhaling heavily.

You twist your hands together, fingers budging in a nervous fidget.

“Um, he told me… he told me…” You forget your precise words because Felix meets your eyes, holding your gaze in his. You lose yourself in the depth of his dark eyes. You think your heart is beating loud enough to hear.

You look away, overwhelmed by the intensity of his stare. Your eyes stray to the couch, to your t-shirt poking out between the cushions. You are startled by a jolt between your legs, like a lightning bolt of arousal, the previous scene suddenly resonating with clarity.

“I—” You almost choke on your words, so much nervousness, so much fear, so much need in your voice. You meet his searching eyes, stepping forward as if compelled by them. “I thought my scent disgusted you.”

He blinks back at you, your words taking a moment to settle. Then he furrows his brow and tilts his head. A bit of hair falls forward and he tucks it back.

“Uhhhh, what?” he asks. “Dis—disgusted me? You thought—” He looks back at the couch too. He is very flushed, his rut no doubt keeping him suspended on a perpetual edge, and his ears darken with a richer tinge of red. “Um. No.” He laughs at the ridiculousness, looking at you with wide, blinking eyes. “I, uh, I definitely don’t – I think you – I mean—”

“Um, yes,” you say, clasping your hands together again. You rock a little on the balls of your feet. “Yes. I can see that, um, I think you’re not disgusted.”

“No,” it comes out on a breath. His eyes drop from your face down your body. You look so simple, but he looks at you like no one has ever been more beautiful. “No, I’m not disgusted. Why did you think that?”

“You, um, you make faces sometimes,” you say. It sounds so petty and silly to say out loud, but it’s time to get it all out there. “And you’ve been so distant, Felix. I thought that maybe, now that you’re a werewolf, you didn’t want anything more to do with me.”

His face scrunches up with bewilderment.

“Nothing – nothing to do with you?” he asks, voice breaking where it pitches up. It would usually make you laugh, but now is not the time as you stare back, all your insecurities and vulnerabilities on display. He does not laugh at them either, taking a small step towards you with a tender look on his face. “I could never feel that way,” he says. “You’re my whole world. I – I’ve told you that. You’re my – you’re my person.”

“Chan said you felt like a monster,” you say softly. “I wish you would have told me how you felt. I could have told you that you aren’t a monster, not at all. You’re my person too, you know.”

He exhales, shoulders deflating. He rubs the bridge of his nose, thinking of something to say. Eventually he shakes his head and drops his hand.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” he says. “You’ve been through so much. I couldn’t – I couldn’t ask you to take care of me too.”

“Felix,” you say, throat cloying with emotion. You take a step closer as well. “Felix, you’re not a burden. I wanted so badly to take care of you. I – I love you.”

The word love resonates like thunder. It pierces the air, leaves a ringing aftermath.

“You – you love me,” Felix says, like the words are incomprehensible. “As a – as a friend – or?” He tries to look disinterested but completely fails, staring at you with all that intensity again.

You combat the instinct to make yourself small, to hide your vulnerabilities, to retreat into denial and just smile prettily. You hold his gaze. When you smile, it is honest and affectionate.

“I love you, Felix,” you say. “As more than a friend. As everything.”

“Oh,” he says. His hand goes back into his hair, untucking it from behind his ear just to tuck it back again. His eyes dart everywhere like he is replaying the scene and scanning it for answers. He blinks at you. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” you say, with a small laugh.

“But you – you never wanted to see me again,” he says, then lifts his brows, expression all at once understanding. “Because you thought I didn’t want you. Oh my god. I’m such an idiot.”

“I’m not the brightest either,” you tease.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, closing the distance yet again with another step. He forgets the state of his clothes and lets go of his pants, too wrapped up in his words to notice the startled drop of your eyes. Not much is exposed, just the shape of his hips and a stubborn bulge, but it still leaves you sweating.

“Look,” he says. “I – I can’t just say I love you.” Before your heart can sink, he continues frantically, “Because it’s not enough. I do, I do love you. The werewolf gene activated for you. The doctors asked if I had been in any dangerous situations that might have triggered it and I said no. They – they said it sometimes activates in peril, when you feel the need to protect yourself. That’s what happened to me. Except it wasn’t because I wanted to protect myself. I wanted to protect you.”

“Me?” you say in a small voice, like you can hardly believe it.

“Yes,” he says, smiling, both hands moving as he talks. “I felt so helpless, watching the way you were hurting. I wanted to protect you. I never wanted to see you suffering again. I tried to be calm around you but pushing it down just made the feeling more desperate. My wolf, it’s like my heart. It’s just an animal, you know? And it only understands loyalty and love. And the first time I changed, I didn’t think like a person, no, but I thought of you all the same. They could barely keep me contained in that hospital. I just wanted to run to you. I wanted to protect you. I wanted to keep you safe. Staying away from you… it’s been killing me.”

“Me too,” you say, so filled to brim with emotion you think you might burst. “Oh, Felix, me too.”

A laugh spills out of him, more of a release than humour. You take another step towards each other, this time close enough to clasp hands between you.

“I wish you would have told me,” you say. “But it’s my fault too. I know I’m still recovering in some ways. I’m quick to think little of myself. But I shouldn’t put you in the role of the mean voices in my head. I’m sorry too. So, so sorry.”

“How could you think I’d ever be disgusted with you?” he asks in a low voice.

When he cups your cheek, a shiver moves down your spine. You straighten, leaning into his touch, looking at him with wanting eyes. He swallows hard, staring back.

“It was silly,” you say. “I even thought you were seeing someone else. That werewolf lady in your pack. I thought maybe you wanted a werewolf mate and I wouldn’t be enough.”

“That’s crazy,” he says. “You’re my everything.”

“And you’re mine,” you say.

You touch his arm, just the lightest caress of your fingertips. His skin is so hot it makes you gasp. Your cool fingers must be a balm because his eyes close and a little sigh parts his lips.

“Uh,” he breathes, eyes still closed. “Sorry for what you, uh, saw, coming in— I promise I don’t usually – ruts are just—”

You step a little closer. You can feel his breath on your cheek when he breathes in and out.

His hands drop to his sides as you lean in and kiss his neck. It is just a chaste touch but it makes his eyes fly open. He looks at you and you swear his eyes have never been so dark.

“You want me,” he says. When you nod, he releases another deep breath, a massive exhale of relief. “Ruts are… intense,” he says.

“Mm,” is your gentle reply. Your eyes run down his bare skin, fingers itching to touch. You meet his gaze. “But it’s you, right?”

Some romances depict ruts as an out of control haze. Though Felix is certainly more intense, it is your best friend’s familiar eyes locked on yours. You realize it actually makes him the vulnerable one, all his desires so blatant, his needs on the surface, unable to hide them for a second. You understand why he held back, especially while you were in recovery. There is so much of him.

But that is what you love. You can never have enough.

“Yes,” he says.

His deep voice is so rough that it makes you whimper. His hand jumps at the sound, settles on the back of your neck like it did yesterday. Anticipation tingles from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes, every inch of your body aware of him, desperate for him.

“Yes,” he says again, staring at your mouth. “Yes, it’s me.”

Your breath catches when he squeezes your nape. In the back of your mind, you recall all those little courtship rituals of werewolves, the instincts that manifest between them and their mate. A gentle squeeze of the nape is a request for your submission, for you to put your trust in his strength and his affection.

You do, utterly. You rest your hands on his waist, your cool palms against his hot skin, making his eyes flash with hunger.

“What are you waiting for?” you ask, his mouth so close, kissing a tantalizing promise.

He smiles that real smile, eyes crinkling sweetly, sunshine radiating with all that heat.

“I told you, ruts can be intense,” he says. “I’m waiting for your permission to let me have my way with you.”

“You have it,” you say. Your eyes drop to his chest and you run your hand from his collarbone all the way down to his abdomen, watching the muscles tense under the caress of your fingers.

You smile at him, swiping at his hot skin with your fingertips as you step back. He lets you go, hands dropping to his sides. He moves when you do, like his whole body is tethered to yours, magnetized to your core. Each step you take, he follows with a fixated prowl.

“Do whatever you want with me,” you say, peeling down a strap of your dress. “I’m yours.”

His steps gain speed, his smile brightening. In a matter of seconds, he is chasing you into his bedroom, laughing behind your trail of giggles as you scamper ahead of him.

He catches you around the waist inside the bedroom, pulling your backside into his front. The straps of your dress are both lowered and you hold it to your chest with your hand, heart pounding from excitement and the little chase.

You make a sweet sound when his nose swipes your neck. You tip your head, offering more skin. It is a good thing his grip is so strong, because you tremble when he exhales, breath caressing your skin. He gathers your dress in his hands, plucking the fabric out of your grip. He pushes it down your body and it puddles on the floor.

“Felix,” you say on a sigh when he kisses the back of your neck while working his fingers under your bra. You help remove it, dropping it onto the floor. You rock back against him when he touches you. He uses both hands to cup your breasts and squeeze.

“Can’t believe you thought I was disgusted,” he says. “Like I didn’t spend my whole last rut in here thinking about you.”

“Y-you did?” you ask, with a little whimper, because his open jeans are not doing much to shield him and you can feel how hard he is against you.

“Yes,” he says, a hand coming up to circle your throat, gripping it possessively as he puts his teeth in your neck. It makes you jump in his arms, body shaking.

He holds you tight against him, the denim of his pants rough through the thin fabric of your tights.

“I’m sorry for all that,” you rasp. “I must have made it so hard for you.”

“Mm,” he says, grinning against your neck. “You made it very hard.”

“Pfft.” You slap a hand over your mouth when laughing. “That was a terrible joke.”

“Mm. True though.”

You squeak when he nudges you forward, so close to the bed that you stumble right onto it. He climbs up behind you, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your back.

“At first, I was just sad,” he says.

He leans back to grab something off his bedside table. You admire the length of his body as he does, the low-slung jeans, the sheen of sweat across his chest, and his subtle, slender musculature.

You meet his gaze when he comes back. He is kneeling over you, a cocky grin on his face. He gathers his hair and ties it with the band he just grabbed.

“Then I really thought about it,” he says. “Mm, yeah, thought about hunting you down.” He straddles your thigh, his hands planting on either side of your head. “I’d find you and I’d remind where you belong.” He leans down, kissing along your jaw. “With me. Under me. Moaning my name. Forgetting about everything else.”

“Did you—” You start but gasp, his mouth on your throat, biting, sucking, licking. You arch your back, leaning into his mouth as he works his way down your body. “Did you… like with my shirt… when I saw you before…”

“What? Did I get off to your scent?” he asks. “Yes.” His hand follows his mouth, fingers curling into the band of your tights. “I told myself I shouldn’t. The last few ruts I managed. It wasn’t fun, mostly too hot, but I got by. But – you weren’t coming back, were you? You left so many pretty things here that made me think of you…”

He abruptly kneels upright. He uses both hands to grab the waistband of your tights.

“Found one of your cardigans,” he says. “Soft, like you. Put it on my pillow and fucked my hand like I wanted to fuck you.”

He rips your tights open with little effort, tearing right down to the thigh.

“Put it on my face,” he says. “Tasted it. Like I wanted to taste you.”

You moan for him, threading your fingers through his hair as he gets between your legs and opens his mouth on your pussy. He licks right through the material of your panties, like he doesn’t care at all, tormenting you with the obstruction until it is soaked through. You say his name over and over, your thighs already shaking just from warming up.

“Mmm.” He pushes himself up again, his mouth wet, tongue sweeping over his lips. He grabs your panties by the waistband and tugs them down.

By now, his jeans have slid down his hips. He is so hard, beading at the tip, as wet for you as you are for him. You watch as he uses your panties to quickly jerk his cock, gathering the wetness at the tip, then tossing them over his shoulder.

He falls back on top of you, face between your legs, licking you with nothing in his way.

“Wanted to find you,” he says between teasing kitten licks, looking up at you, smirking with the flick of his tongue. “Wanted to make you come so hard – mm, fuck you so good…” He slips two fingers inside you. Even though it has been some time, they move with no hindrance, your pussy so wet that he sinks right in.

��Yeah,” he says, momentarily going cross-eyed with his face so close to your pussy, watching his fingers move in and out of you. He grins when you clench around him. “Show you we were meant to be,” he says. “Just like this.” He licks you again, fingers moving so quickly that it sounds as obscenely wet as it feels. “Wolf or not. Knew you were mine. Was gonna make sure you know too.”

“Ohh,” you say, tugging at the blankets beneath you. “Who are you and what have you done with my sunshine Felix?”

He laughs, a low chuckle, the vibrations moving in your pussy.

“Mm, I’m right here, sweetheart,” he says. “Right… here…”

Then his mouth is occupied, little licks replaced with broad strokes of his tongue, then a repeating pattern that has you swelling and gushing on his tongue. You come so hard that it makes you dizzy, head thrown back as you squirt all over his thrusting fingers.

“That’s it,” he says, kissing your wet thighs.

While you are recovering, he grabs you and moves you. He arranges you neatly in the middle of the bed, making sure you are comfortable. Then he lets down his hair and removes his jeans.

“Felix,” you say, though it is generous to describe your voice as anything but a needy whimper.

He runs his hands up and down your trembling thighs, coaxing you open with murmurs of sweet nothings. You let him in, stringing your arms around his neck as he fits his hips between your legs and leans over you. You feel the head of his cock against your pussy, still throbbing with aftershocks. You are clenching around nothing, needing him, so ready you could scream.

You don’t scream, but sigh, like you are relieved when he gets inside you, like this is what you have been missing all along.

He takes his time despite the fever of his rut. Maybe because of it. His senses are so heightened, the pleasure felt so strongly. He groans, eyes closed, putting his face in your neck and breathing deeply as he slowly rocks into you.

“What were you thinking,” he murmurs, lips moving on your throat, “Trying to run away from me?”

“I’m – I’m sorry,” you say, interrupted with a hiccupping little uh-uh when he rolls his hips and you feel him deeper, harder, faster.

“You thought I wanted someone else?” he asks. “Impossible.”

Your eyes are closed, head thrown back. He grabs your chin and pulls your face to him, says, “Look at me. Right now.”

You do, blinking your eyes open. His thumb rubs your bottom lip and you open your mouth. You don’t even need to think, instantly accepting the intrusion of the digit, sucking on it while holding his gaze.

It would have terrified you a year ago, with anyone else, losing yourself to instinct like that, opening yourself up so willingly. With Felix, it feels right, it feels good.

“It’s you and me,” he says. “You understand that?”

You nod, humming affirmatively around his thumb. It rubs over your tongue, opens your mouth a little more. You want to close your eyes with every rolling thrust into you, but he tugs your face back to him when you try.

“You’re my mate,” he says. “Just you. It’s always – always been you.” He groans on the second always, picking up some speed, making you whine against his fingers.

He is so hot, clearly in the grips of his rut fever, but you cling to him, accepting everything he has to offer.

“Gonna be mine,” he says. “That’s right, yeah?” You nod frantically. “Yeah. Gonna put a ring on your finger. You’re gonna be so good to me, aren’t you? Gonna let me take care of you. Gonna be my mate. Gonna have my children. You and me. Home. Oh, yes, sweetheart, that’s it—”

You clench so tightly at the mention of children. It catches you off guard, your body’s visceral and immediate response, faster than your brain compute can why. You have told Felix you want children one day, in the future, back when you were just friends and it was an abstract thought. Thinking of a home with him, having his children, making a whole life together, being bound so completely …

“Fuck,” you say, his thumb sliding out of your mouth. He cups your face to keep it locked on him, your lips brushing each other.

“Look at me,” he whispers.

You do, though you are so close that you barely see him. It feels like he is everywhere, everything, around you and inside you. You melt when he kisses you, stealing your breath as he claims you so completely. You kiss back, messy and haphazard, all heat and wetness, but it feels good.

“C-can’t get pregnant,” you say with a pout, a bit delirious from getting fucked, letting the words roll thoughtlessly off your tongue. “B-birth control.”

“I know,” he says. He moves a little, gets up so he can hold your hips and pull you onto his cock with every thrust. “I’m stronger,” he says, just as deliriously, watching where his cock moves inside you. “Yeah. Gonna fill you up so much, it’ll happen anyway. It can’t stop me.”

He holds your hips, keeps you in place. He thrusts into you deeply and says, “You’re mine,” and thrusts again, “You’re mine,” and thrusts again, “You’re mine,” and comes inside you.

It is not quite like all the werewolf pornography, with exaggerated knots on preposterously sized cocks, but werewolf physiology is still a little different than human. That difference is exacerbated on a rut. You feel it as he comes, the way he swells and gets harder, just enough that you feel your fullest as he releases. Pushing at you walls, stretching you around him, making you his without question.

He doesn’t really soften after, the rut sustaining him, but the swelling goes down. Even then, not entirely, as you feel a sharper burn when he pulls out of you. The flicker of pain is oddly tantalizing, a biting sensation on top of so many others. It ripples through you, makes you moan.

Your whole body is twitching, eyes closed as you come back to yourself.

You look up at Felix. His eyes are between your legs, his hand running up your thigh. You feel his thumb spread your pussy open, feel his release spilling out of you. That is the other different element; with a werewolf, there is a lot more of everything.

Though you know your birth control will function regardless, when you feel all that inside you… for a moment, you believe he might be strong enough to overpower it.

It makes you giddy, pleasure moving through your body. He smiles at you, all sunshine and sweetness. Then he takes control of your hips and puts himself back inside you. The refractory period on a rut is virtually nonexistent on the peak day, which is usually the second day, which is today.

“You okay?” he asks, rocking into you slowly even though he fits so easily now, your body made to take him.

You nod, sliding your hands over his shoulders. You scratch across his back then up in his hair, making him grunt and close his eyes. He leans down and kisses you, continuing to fuck you until you are making all those sweet sounds again.

“Good?” he asks, kissing your jaw, your neck.

“Good,” you say.

“Not too much?” he checks.

“Mm, no,” you say. You give him a teasing smile. “Not enough actually.”

“Oh, really?” He laughs, eyes big with playful incredulity. “Should I growl and bite more?” He makes a playful snarl like the werewolves in all the erotica.

It makes you laugh. You can’t remember the last time you laughed while having sex, but it feels so good, just as good as all the hot, desperate stuff.

“Hmm, maybe not,” he says, laughing too. “Maybe all the making-a-bitch stuff is a bit much, hm?”

It seems you will learn more about yourself than him over this rut, because that also makes you clench involuntarily. He blinks with surprise, mouth in a soft ‘o’ as he looks down at you. He laughs just a little at the look on your face, a low chuckle as his grin widens.

You cover your mouth, blinking innocently up at him.

“Oh shit,” he says. “I see.”

You pout when he pulls out of you, but there is little time to feel bereft because he flips you over onto your front. Your face lands in the pillows, then he yanks you down the bed.

Oh, it feels filthy suddenly, because the new angle opens you up and you can feel come dripping out of you. It catches his eye too, because he puts his fingers there and stuffs it back inside you.

With little effort, he gets you back under him, pushes down your shoulders and lifts up your hips. You feel him at your entrance again, pushing the tip past the rim.

“Is that it?” he asks, dropping his voice so low yet sounding so sweet. “You want me to make you my bitch, baby?”

He slams home, holding your hips up while pounding into you with relentless measure. You grab a pillow to hold, yelping and whining into it as he fucks you with wild abandon.

For a few seconds, you succumb to that single-minded animalistic pursuit, and you really do believe he can put a baby in you. You start babbling the desire – begging for it, asking him to fill you up.

“Please, please, please,” you say, gasping.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he says, draping himself over your back, not stopping his hips for a second. “I got you. I’ll give you a baby. So good for me. Made to take it from me, yeah, baby?”

You know you are going to come again, his angle and precision too much to withstand. Sure enough, you are coming all over his cock in a matter of seconds, squeezing him into another orgasm too.

He kneels behind you, throws his head back while coming. Then he grinds inside you like he is trying to get it as deep as possible.

“Oh, Felix,” you say, whimpering when he pulls out, still hard, the burn less this time because you are so filthy wet that he slides so easily. You can feel his release gush out of you, his fingers chasing it, pushing back into you.

He rubs at you until you are rocking your hips and coming on his fingers. It is so much stimulation that your eyes water and your nose starts to sniffle.

He rolls you over and cups your face. You open your mouth instinctively, tilting your head to expose your neck. He looks at you like he can’t really believe you are exist and that you are here.

“Wow,” he says. The hand on your face slides so he can put his thumb back in your mouth, letting you suck on it like it is giving you life. He clenches his jaw, makes a rough sound, presses down on your needy tongue. “Next time,” he says, while starting to put his cock back into you, “Your mouth. And my mouth. You’re gonna sit on my face for hours. I’m gonna take care of you. Oh—”

He is halfway inside you when you reach up, putting your hands on his chest. He stops immediately, pulling out, taking back his hands, looking at you with a concerned tilt to his head.

“Will you lay on your back?” you ask, voice hoarse.

He blinks, like for a second he doesn’t understand words, but then he obeys. His hair is in absolute disarray, a veritable lion’s mane. He rakes it back, smooths it down as best he can. He never takes his eyes off you, watching as you sit up, as you climb on top of him, as you put him back inside you and set a slower pace.

“My turn,” you say, smiling. “I want to take care of you too.”

He smiles, putting his hands on your hips but not guiding them. He lets you take the lead, moving on top of him, finding all the ways to make him moan and close his eyes and twitch inside you.

You make him come twice that way. After the second time, he finally starts to soften enough that you can take a break.

You lay down beside him, squeaking with surprise when you press down on your belly and a little more come gushes out of you. You look at each other, his face the picture of total innocence despite his hand in it. You swat his chest, rolling onto your side and putting your head on his chest.

He laughs, putting his arm around you, stroking your back.

“You know I do mean it,” he says, looking down at you. “I want everything with you.”

“Me too,” you say. You kiss his chest, then his neck, under his jaw, making him sigh contently. “I love you, Felix. Everything about you, wolf and all.”

“I love you too,” he says, pressing you close, kissing your forehead.

There is a long moment of content silence. He strokes your back, up and down, lulling you to a dozy state. It is too early to sleep and, besides, the sheets need changing before that – even though you suspect they will just be dirtied again.

You are contemplating these sweet mundane nothings when he says, “You’re in the pack, you know. As my mate. That makes you one of us.”

“Does it?” you ask.

“Yes,” he says. “I’m telling you this, because you’re a packmate and Chan is leader, but you’re my mate, so you have to take my side and tell him to fuck off when he tries to say I told you so.”

You laugh, shaking your head and playfully rolling your eyes.

“Sounds good,” you say. “Hmm, I might go have a shower before… the next… round…”

You do not have to look down to know that he is hard already, his blinking gaze revealing all. You giggle together and kiss again.

“All right, fair enough,” you say, eyes closed, exposing your neck obediently when he cups your nape. You press against him, moaning softly when he scents your neck then sucks a bruising kiss there. “It can wait,” you say, smiling. “We’ve been waiting for this long enough.”

“Mm,” he says, already slipping back into his feverish need. He grabs you and pulls you back on top of him.

There is not much talking for a while, but there is some laughter and plenty of smiles, and for the first time in a long time, you are looking forward to everything that follows after.

#lee felix x reader #felix x reader #lee felix smut #felix smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x you #skz x you #yongbbokkie #valentinesdaystories

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cutieln4 · 6 months ago

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Fuck It I Love You | LN4

lando norris x reader, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff

summary: lando and y/n seem to absolutely hate each other until a dangerous situation reveals the truth

warnings: drink spiking, threats of sexual assault (nothing graphic, someone tries to take her home)

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

For some reason, Lando and her never got along. It stemmed from when they were karting together, all the way until they both got to Formula 1.

Now, at ages 21 and 23, they drove for rival teams and were always going wheel to wheel.

Monza wasn't any different.

Max and Charles were far in front, but she and Lando were fighting over the last podium place. They were switching back and forth until on the last lap, she maybe pushed him a bit too far on one of the last corners, securing 3rd place.

He approached her when she was making her way back from the post-race press conference, on her way to the media pen.

"What the fuck was that?" he demanded.

She shrugged, smirking. "Not quite sure what you're talking about."

"Oh don't play dumb. That was dirty racing on the last lap and you know it."

"I don't see how it's any different from what you did to me in Austria, or last year at Silverstone."

She could see his jaw clench, and she knew she got him.

"Maybe keep your talking on the track," she told him before he could reply, walking away.

That night she was at the club celebrating with a couple of the other drivers. She was pretty close with Max, Charles, Oscar, and Daniel. It made things a bit awkward with them when she and Lando were really going at it because they were all good friends with Lando too. But whatever, it was mostly fine.

She had been dancing and throwing back drinks until she forgot about her and Lando's feud. She's also pretty sure the other drivers got some embarrassing videos of her. Her current drink was eventually empty and she stumbled away to the bar, not telling anyone.

She waved the bartender over to ask for another drink, tipping them $20. If it weren't for the alcohol in her system, she would've flinched when a man suddenly appeared at her side. It was crowded by the bar, and he was pressing right against her.

"Hey baby, let me buy you a drink."

"That's alright, I already have one," she politely declined, hoping he would just leave her alone.

"Oh come on, don't be like that honey."

She twisted her neck around to try to spot the other drivers and when she did, she grabbed her drink and left. The man luckily didn't follow.

Halfway through her drink, she started noticing that something was wrong. Her head was spinning way more than it should be, she was sweating like crazy, nauseous, and her body felt heavy.

"I'm going to the bathroom," she slurred out to Max before stumbling away.

She didn't make it far before she was grabbing onto the wall to keep herself up. She knew at the moment that something was terribly wrong. She most likely had her drink spiked, and now she was separated from her group and incapacitated.

A hand grabbed her arm and she looked up. Her vision was too blurry to make out any features, but she knew it wasn't one of the drivers.

"You okay, babe? Let me help you."

"N-No, m' good, leav' me 'lone."

She tried to escape his grip, but she could barely move, her strength was completely gone. The man wrapped his whole arm around her waist, supporting her as he walked her out of the club while she tried to protest.

The cold, fresh air felt good when it hit her, but then she remembered what situation she was in. The man was dragging her along more roughly now.

"Stop, 'lease, I don' wanna go with you," her pleading sounded more and more like pathetic whimpers falling on unheard ears.

He just kept walking down the street, gripping her so hard there'd probably be bruises.

"Don't, please, leave me 'lone," she whined, eyes welling up with tears as she tried to escape his grip again.

He suddenly shoved her face-first into a building, rough concrete scraping her arms and face, and she fell to the ground.

"Shut up and don't move!" he hissed.

He yanked her back up and dragged her along.

"No, no, please, stop," she cried, nearly sobbing. She was scared, she couldn't feel anything, and she was completely separated from anyone she knew while some strange man was leading her somewhere.

"Hey!" another voice suddenly yelled, about 5 meters behind them. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Whoever this person was, they sounded pissed.

"Nothing man, mind your business," the man next to her said.

"No, I won't mind my fucking business. Let go of her before I smash your face in."

The man scoffed, trying to continue walking.

"I warned you," the other man said before suddenly she fell to the ground and she heard a thud of skin-on-skin contact, before a groan.

She was on the ground, leaning her back against the wall while her head drooped to the side. She couldn't see much, but she could hear the punching continue.

"Stop, stop, man, I'm sorry!"

"Oh yeah? Did you listen to her when she asked you to stop?"

Eventually, it went quiet, and there were footsteps in her direction. The man who saved her crouched down in front of her and put his hands on her cheeks, supporting her head. It was then that her vision cleared up a bit, and she realized who the person was.

"Lando?" she asked, voice slurring.

"Yeah, it's me. I got you."

She started sobbing, trembling hands gripping his jacket as he wrapped her in a hug, letting her cry into his chest.

"Shh, it's okay, I'm here. It's okay, you're safe now," he whispered to her as he rubbed her back.

"I-I was so, so scared," she cried.

"I know, I know. I got you."

Lando then used one hand to fish out his phone, calling the police. They waited while the police showed up, him trying to keep her awake.

When the police arrived, one of the officers arrested the unconscious man on the ground while the other rode with them in the ambulance to take their statements. Y/n never let go of Lando's hand once.

The hospital kept her overnight for observation after making sure whatever drug she was spiked with wasn't lethal, and collecting evidence and taking pictures of her injuries. She had finally given in to unconsciousness, and Lando was sitting next to her, holding her hand.

It was only when everything was a little settled down that he saw that she had nearly 100 missed calls from various drivers. Shit, he forgot about that.

He opened up his phone and called Daniel.

"Hey, man I can't talk right now," Daniel said right away, sounding panicked.

"Hold on—"

"Actually, do you by chance know where Y/n is?"

"Yeah, about that, I'm in the hospital—"

"What? What happened? Are you okay?"

"Can you let me finish my sentence? I'm with Y/n. She was drugged and I saw her on the street. Some man was dragging her with him, and she was clearly asking him to leave her alone. Anyway, she's a little banged up, but she's okay, nothing happened. They're just keeping her overnight for observation."

Daniel let out a big sigh of relief, said something to someone next to him, and then turned back to the phone.

"Thank fuck, we've been trying to find her for hours. Thank you, Lando, seriously. I can't imagine if you hadn't been there. What hospital is she at?"

After telling him where they were, he hung up.

Lando sighed, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes as he reflected on what the hell just happened.

Y/n shifted in front of him, and he immediately sat up straight.

"Lando?" she mumbled, voice hoarse and still half-asleep.

"Yeah, it's me. I'm here. Do you remember what happened?"

She paused, but then her face crumpled, and she nodded.

"It's okay, it's okay, don't cry," he soothed.

"You saved me. I thought you would've just let him take me."

Lando's eyebrows furrowed, stomach twisting just at the thought.

"Why would you think that?"

"You hate me," she muttered, eyes looking down.

"I don't," he paused, hesitating. "I don't hate you at all. I...I didn't plan on ever telling you this, but I really like you. You're funny, you're witty, you're kind, you're fearless, you never back down from a challenge, and I love all those things about you. And I know you probably want nothing to do with me and you hate my guts, but I just need to get it off my chest―"

"―Lando, just shut up and kiss me. I like you too, idiot."

Lando grinned, showing the gap between his front two teeth that she always loved, and leaned down to connect their lips.

"Do you think people would get suspicious if we stopped being mean to each other?" he asked.

"Probably. We should just hard launch."

"I don't think our PR teams would appreciate that."

Later, when Daniel made it to the hospital, he was extremely surprised to see the two of them cuddled up together. He just had to take a picture.

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navybrat817 · 2 months ago

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Hold You Tight: Part 15

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 14 | Series Masterlist | Part 16

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.6k

Chapter Summary: You learn the root of Bucky's obsession with you.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, masturbation, dirty talk, tension, backstory, reference to stalking, inner turmoil, slight feels, talk of violence, angst, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and this chapter is... something. Thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You hadn't opened your eyes yet when you felt Bucky’s fingers brush along your stomach in an almost hypnotic motion. You didn't know what time it was or what was going on in the world outside, but you knew you were in his arms and would be in his bed soon enough. Sleeping with someone next to you wasn’t something you were completely used to. It had been so long, and when it did happen it was always by choice.

You hadn't exactly kicked Bucky out though, had you? No, you invited him in. If only to prevent him from putting another hole in the wall. Natasha said she’d bill him for it, but you were going to make Bucky pay her extra for the inconvenience.

“I know you’re awake,” he murmured, his lips touching your neck. “Your breathing changed.”

“Mmm. You listen to me breathe?” you mumbled. That tracked for him.

“It’s a beautiful sound,” he said, your eyes finally opening when he pulled you closer. Whether it was sleep, being beside you, or both, it had an effect on his… anatomy. You went still when he rocked his hips once, letting you feel just how hard he was. “God, waking up beside you is a dream come true.”

Your fingers dug into the pillow under your head as he rolled his hips again. His fingers didn't drift south, didn't tug at your pajamas. He also didn't stop that slow grind and you hated that a bit of wetness gathered between your thighs. “Did you have good dreams?” you asked, your voice surprisingly even.

“Mmm. I had very good dreams,” he answered, his voice rough. “Would you rather I tell you or show you?”

Neither. That was what you told yourself. “What about me?” you asked. “You don’t want me to tell you about my dreams?”

“Tell me,” he urged, burying his face in your shoulder.

“I dreamt about you, Bucky. You laying beside me in bed, holding me close. Just like this,” you said, his groan permeating your skin. “Do you want me to keep going?”

His teeth gently sank into your shoulder, making you gasp. “Yes,” he growled.

“Okay,” you smiled, pushing your hips back just a little to tease him. “I dreamt that you touched me. So hot it made me feel like I was on fire.”

Another groan escaped. “Where, Kotyonok? Where did I touch you?” he asked, his voice strained.

“See, here's the thing…” You suddenly pulled yourself from his grasp and turned in time to smack him in his face with the pillow. His shocked expression was worth it. “I don’t remember the rest of my dream because some entitled jerk pounded on my door in the middle of the night and punched a hole in the wall.”

He chuckled as he sat up, his hair falling in his eyes. It was a gorgeous sight and it wasn't fair. “Did you just hit me with a pillow?”

You did it again, your frustration fueled more as he kept laughing. “Sleep is precious to me,” you said, nodding to his lower region. “You’re lucky I don't smack that with the pillow.”

He took it from your grasp before you could try. “Okay, it was shitty of me to show up when I did. I’ll give you that,” he said, reaching out to touch your cheek. “But I really did miss you.”

“I understand that, but it was one day,” you argued, shivering when his thumb moved along your skin. He went a single day without you and lived to tell the tale.

Pain filled his eyes. “But I already went so long without you.”

You sighed, pulling away and searching for your phone so you could check the time. “I need caffeine before we have our talk.”

Bucky looked down at himself. “And I need to take care of this.” He smirked at your expression. “Don't worry. As much as I want to be inside you, our first time won't be here.”

That was a relief. “But you do plan to fuck me here at some point.”

“Natasha let that slip, huh?” He stood up with a stretch and you looked away. “I plan to make love to you and fuck you, too. The best of both worlds.”

“How considerate.” You stretched, too, his eyes following you. “Let me use the bathroom before you jerk off in there, please.”

“You're welcome to listen,” he smiled.

He’d probably put on a show if he knew you were listening. “I’m going to sit in the other room once I’m done and order breakfast. Would you like anything?”

He looked touched that you considered that. “Coffee with cream and sugar, eggs sunny side up, and bacon, please.”

“Okay,” you said, rushing to the bathroom before he could follow.

“I might just jerk off in bed if you’re in there,” he called out as you shut the door.

“Be my guest!”

You swore you heard a chuckle as you went about your business, going to the bathroom, brushing your teeth. Ignoring him didn’t last when you heard a soft groan. Jesus, the man had absolutely no shame.

“Fuck, doll, I’m so hard for you,” he moaned.

You counted to three in your head and brushed your teeth a little harder, faster, trying to block him out. Maybe if you ignored him he'd shut his mouth. Maybe.

“Are you wet for me? Come to bed and let me take care of you. I'll make you melt on my tongue.”

Spitting harder in the sink than you needed to, you gripped the porcelain once you rinsed your mouth out. You had no doubt he’d eat you out like a starved man. Would he make you take him in your throat soon? Fuck your face until you drooled and cried or would he be gentle and let you get used to the weight of him on your tongue?

“I know you can hear me.” His voice was sinful, dark, and you scrubbed your skin so hard when you washed your face you were stunned you didn’t hurt yourself. “Sure you don’t wanna come out and see what you do to me? Maybe show me your pretty pussy? I can jerk off on it and spread it all over those pretty lips.”

You bit your lip, wishing your knees didn’t feel weak. “Bucky, please.”

He groaned louder, his breathing labored. Your breathing was a little heavier, too. “Say it again, I’m almost there.”

All you had to do was open the door to see if his pupils were dilated, if there was heat in his cheeks. Was his hair still a mess from sleeping? Would he make a show of stroking his cock? “Bucky, hurry up,” you demanded.

He chuckled, a breathy sound. “Can’t wait for you to say that before I fuck you.” Your eyes shut as he let out another obscene groan. “Before I fill you full of me.”

“Just go to the sitting area,” you muttered to yourself, not looking at your reflection in the mirror.

You left the bathroom with the hope of avoiding his gaze, but you made the mistake of looking at the bed. He was in the middle of it, looking every bit like a king. His lower half was covered by the blanket, but you could see that his right hand was under there, still stroking himself. His chest heaved, his eyes half lidded as you stared at each other. You had to break yourself from that spell, even if the man was jerking off to the thought of you.

“Like what you see?” he rasped.

You swallowed hard, but smiled. “Coffee with cream and sugar, eggs sunny side up, and bacon, right? Right,” you said, proudly walking with confidence from the room. “Clean up after yourself when you’re done.”

“I’ll clean you up, too, after I make a mess of you,” he stated, a long moan following as you plopped down on the sofa.

Guess he finished.

Once it was quiet enough in the bedroom, you ordered breakfast. You still needed a shower, if only to cool yourself off and get rid of the wetness that seeped out thanks to Bucky. You weren’t sure if you trusted him not to join you or try to watch and had a feeling he’d make you shower and bathe with him once you moved in.

Bucky, for his part, didn’t come out until there was a knock on the door minutes later. Any trace of his earlier transgression was gone, looking more put together, but there was still tension in the air. You remained silent as he thanked whomever was at the door once he checked the breakfast cart himself and wheeled it to the small table. He even pulled out a chair for you, staring at you with a soft gaze until you went to join him.

“Feel better?” you asked.

“Not really,” he admitted, setting the food out with a frown. “Orgasms take the edge off, but having you close and not having you is difficult.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” you uttered.

He sat down and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Why did you invite me in this morning?”

“I told you I was tired,” you said, which you were.

He hummed, taking a bite of his eggs. “You could’ve told me to leave, have Natasha call security, anything, but you didn’t do any of that. You didn’t make me sleep on the sofa either,” he said with a knowing smile. “Admit it, you wanted me in bed with you.”

“I will not admit that,” you said quickly. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.

He shrugged. “Maybe you were testing to see if I’d stay true to my word and not force myself on you or maybe you actually missed me more than you want to admit to yourself. Either way, I’m glad you did. Best sleep I can remember in a long time.”

Admitting anything would be admitting defeat and you couldn’t do that to yourself. “It wasn’t even a full night’s sleep,” you pointed out. It was after two in the morning when he showed up.

“Doesn’t matter. I still slept well because I was holding you,” he smiled softly, nodding to your plate. “Please, eat. The food here is really good.”

You poked your food around before you dug in. He said things like that and it fueled your guilt for not giving in or fully accepting your new life. You weren’t going to romanticize anything he did though.

“You said we had some things to talk about,” he said after a minute. “I’m all ears.”

You took a large sip of your coffee first. “Yeah, like Ray following me. It was meant to be a day to myself and you had me followed,” you said, watching for his reaction. As expected, he didn’t look the least bit ashamed. “I don’t expect an apology from you because you’ll harp that it was for my own good, but you can understand my frustration that you didn’t let me know, right?”

That was one of the things that bothered you the most. The half answers and missing pieces and being kept in the dark. How much of it was for your own good and how much was it because he didn’t want you frightened more?

“I did have you followed and my instinct proved to be correct that you needed eyes on you. Also proves that you need to move in as soon as possible,” he said, your heart sinking. Of course he was twisting this to justify himself and get what he wanted. “But I get your frustration. It’s a big change for you, having eyes on you at all times.”

“Because of you.” You ignored the flicker of hurt in his eyes. This was all because he chose you. “Why Ray?”

“He’s good at his job, I trust him, and you seem to trust him,” he replied. You did to an extent. “I’m glad he suggested this place to you since you weren’t exactly interested in spending the rest of your day at home.”

You were glad for that as well. “Well, it was nice resting somewhere that didn’t have cameras or bugs around the place. Natasha was also nice to talk to,” you said. Meeting her didn’t fully ease your stress, but she helped.

Bucky ignored the camera comment. “She can bend the will of many men to do what she wants,” he said. There was respect there, even a hint of fondness. “Unsurprisingly, she’s protective of you, which is good.”

Likely because of whatever she experienced growing up she looked out for others, though you wondered if part of it was because you were Bucky’s girl. “She offered me a place here in case I ever need space or time to myself., I plan to take her up on that offer.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Because you don’t want to be near me.”

Putting your hand on his across the table, he immediately reacted to your touch. It was time to take a lesson from Natasha’s book and sway him. “Because we both need that space and moments to ourselves, just like we both need our friends. And any time apart will only make things more meaningful when we’re back together,” you stressed. Like you were stubborn in accepting your fate, he was stubborn in not wanting separation from you in the slightest. “I already feel like a prisoner of sorts in this relationship, so is it really too much to ask for a bit of a longer leash?”

“I’ll worry when you’re not nearby,” he admitted.

Your heart clenched, but you couldn’t allow that sweetness to manipulate you. “Because of men like Helmut Zemo?” you asked. Bucky gripped his fork tight. “You know, it’s a little convenient that the day you give me to myself is the day he shows up.”

What if it was a ruse for Bucky to not give you more days to yourself?

“I can see why you’d think that. I'd be suspicious if the roles were reversed,” he said, a hardened look crossing his face. “But I don’t want him anywhere near you and wouldn’t set you up that way.”

You were still a little suspicious, but the way Bucky, Ray, and Natasha reacted regarding Zemo told you that none of them had any idea he’d pop up. “Why not?”

“Because he isn’t a good person and shouldn’t have gone near you,” he said. You raised an eyebrow at that. “I’m not a good person either, but he’s something else.”

“What do you mean?” you asked. There was a story there and you needed answers.

“He’s rich, powerful, like me in many ways, but the difference is he once had a wife and kid who were his whole world. Something I’ve longed for and never had.”

You tried not to tense up, but that was where you came in for Bucky. He wanted you to make that dream a reality. “Had?” you asked, noticing he referred to Zemo’s family in the past tense.

Bucky nodded sadly. “A few years ago they were… collateral damage in a deal gone wrong. The loss changed him. He grew colder, more ruthless,” he explained. You were glad you finished eating because you weren’t sure you could stomach a bite after that. “Our work relationship has been shaky ever since then because he blames some of the men I’ve worked with for what happened and I feel like he’s been biding his time and waiting to strike.”

“‘Collateral damage’? It was his wife and child,” you said. Zemo may not have been a good person, but you had no doubt his family was innocent.

“I didn’t mean for it to sound heartless,” he said.

“And what? Him setting his sights on me, is it a game? Is he going to hurt me?” you asked, tears instantly filling your eyes. You were afraid all over again. “Will he try to kill me?” you whispered. Bucky’s associates were loyal to him as far as you knew. If Zemo blamed them in some way, what better way to hurt them than to hurt someone their boss cared about? A loss for a loss.

“No,” he said fiercely, pushing his chair back so fast and hard that it hit the floor. A tear fell when he rushed around, dropping to his knees beside your chair. “I don’t know what his angle is yet, but I’m going to find out and I won’t let him hurt you.”

“How can you guarantee that?” you asked.

“I can’t, but I have to try because I can’t lose you, too,” he whispered, wiping your tears away. “We don’t even have to wait until the end of the month for you to move in. I can have your apartment packed up while you’re out with your friends.”

You pulled away from his touch. “No,” you whispered back. Moving in sooner wouldn't help. “You owe me more answers.”

He let out a breath. “Kotyonok-”

“No!” you snapped, moving back in your chair. “Why are you so obsessed with me? And don’t just tell me that it was the connection of seeing me at the club and realizing we’re two lonely souls meant to be together. There is something there that no one is telling me and I need to know.”

Whether it was for closure or sealing your fate, it would drive you crazy to not know.

Bucky took your hands and pulled you up, a detached look taking over his features as he led you to the sofa. The look frightened you more than his leers or glares. Had you pushed too far?

“I told you my dad was an unfaithful partner to my mom, but he was worse. Much worse,” he began, gently squeezing your hand. “We always had money, more than we knew what to do with, but it was never enough for him. He stole from his partners and was careful to cover his tracks, but he slipped up one day. And when that day came, he shifted the blame to my mom. Convinced them enough that they believed him when everyone knew my mom would never steal a penny.”

Your mouth fell open when he audibly exhaled, a broken sound. “Bucky… I…” You didn’t know what to say.

“They didn’t kill her, but they nearly did. She couldn’t even see me when I showed up because her eyes were so swollen. She was hardly breathing,” he continued in a hurt tone, pulling his hand free of yours to remove the glove from his left hand. Your eyes weren’t deceiving you the night he showed up at your apartment. His hand was made out of some sort of metal. “Lost my arm getting her out of there.”

He held it out so you could touch it. “You lost your arm?” you asked, your fingers grazing the metal ever so gently. You had never seen anything like it.

He shuddered. Could he feel that? “It was worth it for the woman who brought me into this world, raised me, and loved me unconditionally,” he said without regret. “And my dad? He just kept whoring around, and told his associates that she had to learn her lesson the hard way. He couldn't admit the truth.”

Your eyes misted over. How could his dad do that to his mom? To Bucky? “I’m so sorry.”

He blinked rapidly and you wondered if he had tears in his eyes, too. “It took her a long time to recover and she never fully did, but she tried to make the best of it. She still had her spirit, and kept her distance from my dad in our home. Some of my friends even made sure my dad wouldn’t go near her,” he said, smiling wistfully. How could she handle staying there? Was it for her son? “Because she never fully recovered though, I almost lost her again over four years ago.”

“What happened?”

“Before I answer that.” He shifted to face you, awe in his eyes. “Have you ever saved a life?”

“What?” you asked, thrown by the question.

“Have you ever saved anyone?” he asked again.

“No, I’m not a hero. I…” you trailed off before a vivid memory filled your mind. “Actually, I did once.”

“Yeah?” he asked, but he sounded as if he already knew.

“Yeah. There was this older woman walking across the street with a friend or relative one day, I’m not sure,” you said, wincing when he gripped your hand. “Bucky, you-”

“Tell me what happened,” he begged.

“She stopped and put a hand to her head while her friend kept walking. I could tell something was wrong and before I knew it I rushed toward her and grabbed her hand when she started to collapse. I pulled her out of the way just in time before a speeding car hit her,” you explained, remembering it like it was yesterday. Your heart had raced so fast when she crumpled in your arms. “Her friend understandably freaked out and flagged a car down to take her to the hospital. She kept thanking me for saving Winnie, but I was still worried about her.”

“Winnie.” Bucky swallowed hard and loosened the hold on your hand. “That was her name?”

“Yeah.” You gave him a strange look when he inhaled sharply. “I stopped at the hospital to donate flowers like usual and I asked one of the doctors I knew pretty well if anyone named Winnie had checked in. I knew she couldn’t tell me yes or no and I didn’t have any other information to give her, but I did ask if she could make sure she got a vase if she was there.”

“Did you ever see her again?” he asked, his voice thick.

You nodded after a moment. “Yeah, I did. I went back maybe a week later and she spotted me by chance as she was being wheeled to her room. She said I could stop in if I wanted to, so I did,” you smiled softly. “She said my flowers brightened up her room and I asked how she knew they were from me because I never put my name on the cards. She said she just knew. I made sure to bring her flowers the next time I visited.”

A sniffle pulled you from the memory and Bucky looked like he was trying hard not to break down. “You kept visiting her?”

“I did. She didn’t always say much because she was tired some days, but seemed to like it when I read to her. Said her son liked to read to her, too, but I never saw him stop by,” you answered sadly. She was a kind woman and it broke your heart that she didn’t get a lot of visitors. “Then one day, her room was empty. No one could tell me anything. I don’t know if she went home or passed or what happened. It was like she just vanished.’”

“She was brought home before she passed away days later,” Bucky said, his hand shaky as he took his wallet out.

You stared at him. “How do you…” He said he knew you donated specific flowers to the hospital. The same kind of flowers you gave to Winnie. “Bucky, what are you-”

“I lied to you during our first date when I said I wish you could’ve met my mother. You did meet her and she did love you,” he said, showing you a photo in his wallet. It was a younger picture of Bucky. He looked full of life and the woman smiling was the very woman you pulled out of the path of the car. “You just didn’t know it.”

“Winnie…” you whispered, feeling like the wind was knocked out of you. “She was your mom.”

The kind woman you saved by chance was the mother of Bucky Barnes.

“Her full name was Winifred. I only visited her during off hours so it wouldn’t attract any attention. Used a fake last name for her records, too, so no one would know that a Barnes was in the hospital,” he said, tucking his wallet away. “She used to talk about this sweet woman who saved her and brought her flowers, but she couldn’t remember her name. With her mind slipping, it didn’t surprise me and I was too caught up in other things to fully look into it because I knew she was safe and this person didn’t mean any harm.”

Your mouth was agape, trying to process everything when he bitterly laughed. “You…”

“Dad never stopped by, of course. Not that I would’ve let him, the piece of shit.” His metal hand curled as anger flashed across his face. “And this person couldn’t have been like my dad and the cowardly men who thought it was okay to beat up a woman. Men like Alexander Pierce, Brock Rumlow, Jasper Sitwell.”

Those were some of the names Zemo mentioned. “Oh, my god.”

“You know, one of the last things she said to me was that she hoped I found my other half one day. To love her completely, hold her tight, and never let her go,” he said, an odd smile on his face. “I only wish she was alive so she could see us together.”

You gasped. He took those words to heart, twisted them into something dark and possessive. “I-”

“I told you that traditional dating never worked for me,” he cut you off. “Seeing you in my club, it all made sense as to why.”

You couldn't find the words, too lost to speak up if you tried.

“And imagine my surprise when I had my men look into you just to get facial recognition footage of you saving my mom on the street that fateful day. And footage from the hospital with you sitting there talking with her, bringing her happiness without asking for anything in return,” he said, cupping your cheek as you tried to get over the shock. “I knew I wanted you the moment I saw you, but that just solidified it more. You saved my mom, and gave me more time with her. That’s something that no one else could ever give me.”

Your lip trembled. You saved his mom’s life, gave him more time with one of the only people he seemed to love and respect. No, that couldn’t be. That couldn’t have been you. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I had scared you enough. Would you have listened or believed me if I told you that so soon?” he asked gently.

“I don’t know,” you breathed. You weren’t sure what to think anymore.

“Don’t you see now why I’m so desperate to keep you close? To keep you safe? Had I looked into it then, we could’ve met and been together this whole time,” he said, pressing his forehead to yours. “But it’s okay. Fate stepped in and brought us together now.” He traced your lips with his thumb. “We’re going to make up for all the lost time, and never be lonely again, Kotyonok. That’s a promise.”

Something fell apart inside you and you weren’t sure when you began to openly weep, but he silenced your cries with his lips. Maybe he was crying, too, you couldn’t be sure, but he held you tight against him and didn’t let go. You didn't fight him, couldn't fight him. You were the one who asked for answers after all and you got them, didn’t you?

And knowing what you knew now, walking away from Bucky was never going to be an option. He would never allow it. Fate wouldn't allow it either.

A lot to unpack there, lovelies! Bucky sort of behaved. He believes fate brought you together . What do you think? And what will happen next? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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mariespen · 1 year ago

Text

Never Alone ₊✩ˎˊ˗

rafe x reader angst/comfort ⊹˚.⋆ Summary: Rafe goes to sleep alone after reader doesn't listen to him, but something's missing. Warnings: arguing/yelling, reader being in the wrong, insults and some stronger language

⊹˚.⋆︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵⊹˚.⋆

“I can’t believe this.. I can’t believe you.” Rafe said, pointing an accusatory finger and shaking his head in disappointment.

You stood there, any bit of attitude that you walked in with had left your body the moment you saw the look in his eyes.

“Rafe, I just lost track of time!” You protested, unintentionally sounding whiny.

“You don’t fucking listen!” His voice raised and you stood smaller as he continued his rant, “Everything I say is in and out with you.” His eyes narrowed at your face.

There was only one thing that pushed Rafe off the edge; not listening to what he tells you. Months ago he had told you not to hang out with the pogues. Since then, you’d been sneaking around with them to not piss off your short-tempered boyfriend.

It’s proving to be true that you also should’ve listened to him when he told you to be ready for a gala by 6pm sharp tonight. The Cameron family was being honored at the country club for being generous contributors after a particularly large donation made by Rafe’s father. Of course, you found yourself adventuring with the pogues, stained with dirt and very far from home at 6pm.

According to him, Rafe had been covering for you all night, saying that you had the flu and wouldn’t be able to make it. Your arrival was heavily anticipated because your grandfather was a big name in the country club. In turn, Rafe needed you there to make conversation and for a good excuse to leave early. He was beyond livid when he stormed into the house at 9pm and realized that you still weren’t home. When you finally tried to sneak into the bedroom thirty minutes later, praying Rafe was still away and racking your brain for believable excuses, he was waiting with an angry red face.

It didn’t help your case at all when Rafe saw JJ Maybank and Kiara Carrera driving away from his house.

“Rafe m’sorry-'' you tried to apologize again, but he cut you off.

“I don’t care!” He stared at you for a moment, taking in your expression before starting again, “Jesus, s’like you’re a child.” he mumbled, ready to end the night angry.

Until you rolled your eyes right as he turned around to face you again.

“Rolling your eyes at me, hm?” He said, the anger coming back into his tone, “y’know what? If you want to hang out with those assholes so bad, go on. S’where you belong.” He said, his tone biting into you as he turned again.

Tears welled in your eyes. You knew Rafe had brought you this kook lifestyle when you were struggling after your mother left the island. You thanked him for two weeks after you moved in with him, then the two of you didn’t speak about it. It’s been a year since then and this was the first time he had brought it up. You didn't think he'd hold it above you.

A sob escaped the confines of your throat when he slammed the door behind him. You let your body crumble, crying into your hands. He had barely let you get a word out and you hated him for it. You knew you were in the wrong, but his words kicked you in the gut.

You picked your own sobbing body up, quieting down and making your way to change from your dirty clothes. You could hear Rafe’s pacing steps and occasional annoyed sighs from downstairs. After wiping the dirt off of your body and getting changed, you laid in the huge bed the two of you shared, trying to distract yourself. You already knew that Rafe planned to sleep in a guest room downstairs and you told yourself it was fine.

An hour passed and turned into two, the clock ticking as you eventually watched three hours pass. You were restless, just like how you always were without Rafe. You both couldn’t sleep without the other’s company. You were going to lay awake all night until a soft knock on the door sounded around the room and an exhausted Rafe tried to quietly walk in. You sat up, looking at his hooded eyes.

“Rafe, I’m so sorry..” You took in a breath as you prepared to spit all of your reasons out at once.

“No, m’sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He breathed out, sitting on the bed next to you.

“No, Rafe. I was irresponsible, baby please.. please forgive me.” You whispered your last words, tears forming again, “I’ll listen. I promise I’ll listen.”

“Shh baby..” He cooed, laying down and holding you to him, “we can talk in the morning. Js need you..” He muttered.

You meekly smiled into him, happy to know that his soft spot for you hadn’t worn thin.

“I love you.” You whispered into his chest, but the only response you got back were his small snores.

⊹˚.⋆︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵⊹˚.⋆

#outer banks #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron drabble #mariespen #obx angst #rafe cameron hurt/comfort

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themultifanshipper · 13 days ago

Text

It was a lot of fun, being persued by by two Formula 1 drivers.

But they would soon be getting tired of the chase. They weren't going to let you stay ahead of them for much longer.

Warnings: smut, finally bottom franco, technically a threesome but not really, restraints (belt), edging, shower sex, anal (mxm), face fucking, tension?

Anon originally had an idea with journalist reader but I went in another direction :3

The tension between you and Max had been brewing since your rookie year.

You'd instantly taken a liking to each other and hung out all the time whenever you had breaks.

You'd been on his yacht, he'd been to your family's vineyard for some wine tasting. You were good friends, and you knew each other exceedingly well.

And of course it wasn't rare for the two of you to find yourselves battling for positions on track, and even came together a couple of times over the years.

That lead to some pretty heated arguments, you even took a swing at him once. You were both hot-headed competitors, it was inevitable.

Nothing ever happened between you though, you'd always kept a sensible distance to your coworkers.

But you couldn't help being a tease.

You'd put sexy bikini pictures of yourself on holiday in your private story, which only Max had access to.

He figured it out pretty quickly when no one else seemed to know what the hell he was talking about when he asked them about it.

And then Franco arrived.

But he never pushed. If this was a game you wanted to play, he could wait it out, no problem. If you got desperate enough you would come crawling to him, he was sure of it.

Franco was the biggest flirt you'd ever seen. Surpassing the likes of Daniel and Carlos as the smoothest talker on the grid.

He was slightly closer to you in age, so you gravitated towards each other naturally.

You went on holiday with him a couple of times, and you went clubbing a lot.

So pretty soon the rumours shifted from you and Max, to you and Franco.

And there were pictures circulating. You and Max had had your fair share of paparazzi nuisances, but with Franco it was on another level.

It was impossible to see each other without photos coming out the next day.

Some were photoshopped, like the ones of you and him on your yacht, kissing.

Or at least that's what your PR team told the public.

You hadn't slept with him of course, but 4 glasses of wine is 4 glasses of wine.

That's 3 too many if you want to keep a clear head. And day drinking in the sun is a dangerous game when you're alone with a horny man on a yacht.

But you politely rejected his advances, insisting that your relationship was supposed to be professional.

Max saw the photos. Of course he did. And he knew they weren't fake, so the next time he saw you he confronted you.

Much to the chagrin of both of your bodies’ needs.

“So how's it going with Colapinto?” he asked, faking nonchalance while you waved to the fans at the drivers parade.

“Nothing's going on, don't be jealous” you plastered a fake smile on your face for the cameras.

“I'm not jealous” he snapped.

“Sure you aren't, Max. Anyway I keep my love life, and sex life, separate from my career, you know that”

He scoffed, turning away from you to talk to whoever was on his other side.

During the next week you decided to spice things up a little.

The race weekend went by without a hitch, and Max didn't bring it up again.

You sent Max a dirty picture.

Nothing too bad, just you in some lingerie and a see through robe that hid absolutely nothing.

You followed it up with “shit, that wasn't for you sorry”

If that didn't get Max riled up nothing would.

But to your disappointment, he didn't reply.

That night you got yourself off to Franco's answering texts instead. You sent the same picture with the same caption, and waited for him to take the bait.

The next weekend Max cornered you in the paddock on media day.

He’d played the game at least, sending you a delicious picture in return, in the name of fairness.

He dragged you to a quiet corner and caged you in against the wall.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” he hissed, pressing you against the wall.

“What the fuck Max! What are you even talking abou-”

“I'm not fucking stupid, I know that picture was for me”

You sighed.

“No it wasn't, Max”

“Who was it for, then?”

“Wouldn't you like to know” you smirked, which just made him angrier.

“Yes, I would actually”

You pushed him off roughly and he stumbled backwards, taken off guard by your sudden aggressiveness.

“None of your fucking business. And if you want to fuck me, this really isn't the right way to go about it”

The next day, lord knows how, Franco managed to sneak into your driver’s room.

You sauntered off, leaving Max to fume in silence at your audacity.

“I enjoyed that picture very much, you know” he mumbled as he approached you from behind.

He quickly plastered himself to your back, hands on your hips while he felt you up.

“I'm sure you did. But it was an accident” your voice shook as his hands wandered.

He chuckled. “I am not convinced of that”

He placed kisses along the side of your neck, trailing upwards towards your lips as he turned your head to look at him.

“Any chance I can see more?”

His lidded eyes bore into yours and you sighed, pushing him away half-heartedly.

“No Franco. I can't go around sleeping with my coworkers. It's not professional”

He smirked. “Not professional? Tell me, who was that picture for?”

You hesitated a second too long.

“You don't know him.”

He bit his lip mockingly, he knew you were lying. “Okay. I guess will just go then”

Max won the race. He was back on his A-game and you’d spent the second part of the race squabbling with Franco and Alex over 10th place for the last point.

And he did, he slipped out without anyone noticing him, leaving you to contemplate your next move.

You got it, at the expense of Franco's front wing.

“That was a dirty move” he groaned into your neck.

You'd found yourselves back in the same position, him grinding against your ass, this time in the club while the bass made your bodies thrum with excitement.

“If you want to get my attention, crashing into me isn't the right way to go about it”

You shivered, both at his tone and at the fact that you'd said almost exactly that to Max three days prior.

“Why would I want your attention?” you murmured back, enjoying the feeling of his hands caressing your body.

“Darling, we both know you want to fuck me”

You turned around in his hold, giving him the most seductive eyes you could muster.

“No I don't”

He groaned and threw his head back in frustration.

“Don't do this to me. We both want it, stop playing around and let me show you how good I can make you feel…”

You smiled and leaned in.

“But where's the fun in that?”

You removed his hands from you body and slinked back into the crowd.

What you didn't know is that Max was in the DJ booth with Lando, and with his vantage point he could see everything.

Running away, once again.

He saw you slip away through the crowd and over to the bar.

His blood boiled and he decided to take action.

But he didn't make his way to you. He went to see Franco instead.

“Mate I need to talk to you”

“Ok, mate” Franco was confused, but followed him towards the bathrooms anyway, where it was slightly quieter.

“Did she send you a picture of herself last week?” Max was going straight to point.

Franco hesitated. “Who?”

Max rolled his eyes at the younger man “You know who, don't play stupid”

The sudden thought that you might be in a relationship with Max flashed through Franco’s mind.

What if he'd read the situation all wrong? What if Max had found out about the flirting and was actually about to beat him up?

“No?” he answered, but it sounded unconvincing even to his own ears.

Max looked unimpressed.

“Give me your phone”

Franco complied immediately.

Max proceeded to scroll through his messages, and clicked on the conversation with you.

The picture of Franco appeared on his screen first, and he looked up at the man incredulously.

“You sent one back? It was obviously bait. Are you stupid?”

“I know it's all a game to her” he snatched his phone back “but playing it got me a very nice picture of her so who cares?”

“I'm not playing the game and I got the same fucking photo”

Franco frowned at his phone, and had to admit, he had him there. Maybe he had been stupid.

“Well… you keep not playing, and I will keep playing, and we will see who get her to break first?” he suggested.

“No” Max snapped. “I am sick of not playing”

He glanced at Franco's screen, where the photo of you was still visible.

They completely ignored you for two whole weeks.

“She has been teasing us for too long. Now it's time she learned her lesson”…

They avoided you at the weekend, and they never returned any of your calls and messages.

You even tried sending them more pictures, but they both left you on read.

You were bored.

You knew something was up when you spotted the two of them deep in conversation in front of the Redbull garage. They were plotting.

Max was pretty much your best friend on the grid, and you missed messing around with Franco.

So on Saturday night, you sent them both a text you knew they wouldn't be able to ignore.

Well Max might, but Franco would definitely crack.

To Franco, you sent “If you come and fuck me now, I won't tell Max”

And to Max, “If you come fuck me now, I won't tell Franco”

You sent them both your room number, and waited. They both saw the texts immediately.

Max had too much self control, so you doubted whether he would be desperate enough to show.

You waited barely 20 minutes before Franco was at your door.

But Franco…

He was so easy.

You had him on the bed, laying under you while you made your way down his body, picking off his clothing bit by bit.

“I knew you wouldn't be able to resist me”

His pupils were blown wide and a slight blush was creeping up his neck.

“The offer was too good to pass up” he groaned as you rubbed yourself over the bulge rapidly growing in his boxers.

You leaned down and pressed your lips to his, and he took the opportunity to wrap his arms around you and roll you over.

“Your teasing has been driving me crazy” he panted, hovering over you while he made quick work of your clothes.

“Why do you think I was doing it” you muttered with a smile, and his tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he realised how much you'd been enjoying teasing him.

“To make me lose it and come fuck the shit out of you?” he asked, exasperated.

“That's the plan” you bit your lip, looking up at him with a smile.

“Perra” he groaned, sitting up. “Turn over”

You raised an eyebrow at him, doing as he said.

His hands were palming your ass while he admired the view, when a sharp knock at the door broke the tense silence.

Your jaw dropped as you looked back at Franco who was wearing a similar look of shock on his face.

Neither of you knew quite what to do, and the knock sounded again, louder this time.

You jumped to your feet, grabbing a robe on the way and opened the door.

Max stood there, fists clenched.

“Max…”

“Is Franco in there?”

You were taken aback by his question.

“And bear in mind, the answer is going to determine how this evening goes for you”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, but was saved answering by Franco appearing next to you.

“I am here… sorry”

He looked slightly afraid, and it was understandable, because the grin that spread over Max's face was evil enough to scare even you.

“I had a feeling you would be here” he stepped inside, crowding against you as he slammed the door behind him. “Option number two, then”…

You didn't know what option number one was, but number two involved you having your hands tied to the headboard, while Max had his cock shoved down Franco's throat.

Which is not something you ever thought you would see.

But there Franco was, drooling around Max’s girth with red cheeks and tears in his eyes.

You knew he was enjoying it though, because he was still wearing his boxers and the wet patch at the front was getting steadily larger.

“Look at you” Max cooed “are you crying because you got caught betraying me just to get your dick wet?”

Franco whined, hips bucking at Max's tone.

“Or are you crying because you’re enjoying this a bit too much?”

Franco closed his eyes, more tears falling as he breathed deeply through his nose.

“You were fucking made for this. You've obviously had practice, slut ”

Franco whimpered pathetically and you throbbed at the sound.

You were fully naked, spread out for Max to admire.

“And you” he snapped at you. “You have been teasing me for years, making me wait, while posting pictures of yourself for my eyes only. Then this little bitch arrives and you let him touch you? Absolutely not”

He pulled out of Franco's mouth and manhandled him onto his hands and knees, facing you while Max dragged his boxers down his legs.

Franco's eyes widened as he looked at you, glancing between your thighs at where you were glistening in the soft light.

“You've been playing games with me since you joined the grid. And you would just let Franco have you after a couple of months? Over my dead fucking body”

He pushed Franco down onto the bed, making his arms buckle and his back arch obscenely, and the younger man gasped.

“So I'm going to fuck Franco, and you are going to watch.”

God knows where the bottle of lube came from, but you were grateful for it, on Franco's behalf.

The way Franco reacted when the first finger went it made you gasp softly.

His eyes fluttered closed and he arched his back even more, pushing back against Max as he let out a porn worthy whimper.

You were getting so turned on, you went to close your thighs but Max tutted.

“Franco, hold her legs open”

He obeyed, shuffled forwards and curled his hands around your knees to hold you in place.

Unfortunately, that brought his face closer to your soaked folds and you could feel his cool breath down there.

You whimpered and he groaned, leaning his head against one of your knees as he looked at your slick lips with a pained look on his face.

“Don't you dare touch, Franco” Max growled “You need to learn patience”

He was on three fingers already, and he was entranced by the way Franco's hole swallowed them greedily.

He made quick work of lubing himself up and pushing into the younger man, who mewled at the stretch.

“Jesus, you are tight.” He gritted his teeth as he pushed in to the hilt. “squeezing around me so good, maybe I should give up on her and just keep you as my plaything, hmm?”

He gave an experimental thrust and Franco whined low in his throat as he looked up at you through lidded eyes.

He looked so fucked out it was almost pathetic.

But to be honest, you probably looked even worse.

You squirmed against the bed, unable to get any sort of friction or stimulation as you were forced to watch Max rail Franco into the mattress.

“You're fucking dripping” Max commented, finally glancing at where you could indeed feel the sheets under you becoming damp.

He wrapped an arm around Franco's middle, shuffling him forwards until he was only an inch away from your soaked folds.

“You want a taste Franco?”

The younger man nodded as best he could with Max’s grip his hair.

Max just chuckled and pushed Franco's face forward, allowing him to eat you out hastily.

The sudden intense stimulation made you writhe under him, cursing as he sucked on your clit while his tongue delved into your wetness.

“Fuck! Oh my god-“ you whined, hips trying to buck but Franco's hold on your thighs was too strong as he devoured you.

As your moans increased in pitch, Max could tell you were getting closer and just as you were about to fall over the precipice, he pulled Franco's head back roughly.

You cried out at the loss, and Max just chuckled, slamming his hips into Franco even harder.

“Max please” you whined, and Max cooed in mock simpathy.

He pushed Franco against you once again, revelling in the way he tightened around his cock at being manhandled like this.

He angled his hips so that his cock pushed against Franco's prostate, and the vibrations of the resounding moan against your cunt got you right to the edge once again.

But again, when Max saw your thighs start to tremble, he pulled on Franco's hair to separate him from you.

Tears clung to your lashes as you were robbed of yet another orgasm, and Franco let out a loud moan.

“I'm gonna come, Max!” he cried, and Max just picked up the pace of his hips.

“Then come, I'm not stopping you”

Once Franco had come down from his mind-numbing orgasm, Max pulled out of him carefully and rolled him over, making sure to avoid the puddle of cum now in the middle of the bed.

Franco's eyes rolled back and his upper body slumped against the mattress as Max continued to pound into him while you watched helplessly.

“You can go now, I will take it from here” he muttered as he handed Franco his clothes.

You looked at Max.

He looked at you on his way out, sending you a kiss before the door slammed shut behind him.

He was making his way around the bed to come and untie you from the headboard.

You weren't quite sure what to say to him as you stretched your arms.

He walked into to the bathroom and turned the shower on, then poked his head around the doorway.

“Come and join me”

You got off the bed hesitantly.

Was that it? Were you going to take a shower and then he’d leave? Or stay with you and talk?

You weren't sure which option you hated more.

You got to the bathroom and he was already under the water, cleaning himself without a care in the world.

You approached him, putting an hand on his shoulder.

“Max? Are you angry with me?”

He huffed out a laugh.

“No, why would I be angry?”

He kept washing himself, and you had no idea what to answer.

He had every right to be pissed after all.

He looked at your confused face and chuckled.

“No, I am not angry with you”

You nodded, and he moved over a bit and pulled you under the spray.

He pulled you against his chest and looked down at you.

“I'm not angry, but I am sick of your games”

You gulped.

You could feel him against your hip, he was still hard.

“You didn't come” you muttered, and he smiled.

“Neither did you”

Your heart was beating fast as you stared at him.

“Are you planning to?”

He nodded.

“Oh yes. But you have a choice to make. Either I fuck you now, and we both come.”

His hand came to cup your jaw as his thumb stroked your cheek.

“Or, I leave right now, and you’ll never get to know how good you could've had it these past two years.”

Your jaw dropped, and your cunt throbbed at the idea of finally getting to fuck Max.

“Well?” his other hand trailed downwards to ghost over your folds, dipping in ever so slightly, to confirm that you were still soaked. “What will it be?”

You gasped, head leaning back against the tiles of the shower wall.

“Fuck me, please”

He grinned. “That's what I was hoping for”

He wasted no time turning you around and pushing into you roughly, your wetness easing the slide as he bottomed out on the first thrust.

You both groaned, and he snapped his hips, determined to hear that noise again.

He made you come twice like that, pressed against the shower wall as he took the frustration of the past two years out on you.

He did indeed make you regret not giving in to him sooner.

Later, in bed, you cuddled together after having changed the sheets.

“So tell me Max. If tying me up and fucking Franco in front of me was option number two… what was option number one if Franco hadn't been here?”

He chuckled, pulling you tighter against him.

“If you had been alone, I would have tied you to the bed and left you there alone"

You gasped.

“and Franco?”

“I would have fucked him anyway, to congratulate him for not giving in to you”

You went silent. Thank god for Franco’s weak will.

“Can I fuck him?" you asked "I really want to"

Max nuzzled into your neck and nipped at your skin.

“Of course. As long as I can keep fucking you, I don’t really care”

You hummed and turned your head, looking into his deep blue eyes.

“Sounds good to me”

He smiled, giving you a quick kiss before laying his head back on the pillow.

“Me too”

You giggled sleepily.

Just like you planned.

You had your best friend back, and two men were at your beck and call.

#my thots #franco thots #max thots #max verstappen #franco colapinto #max verstappen smut #franco colapinto smut #max verstappen x reader #franco colapinto x reader #max verstappen x franco colapinto #f1 #formula 1 #request

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bunny-jpeg · 29 days ago

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secret tattoo (vol. 3)

lando norris

tags: smut/pwp, secret relationship, tattoos, assistant!reader, kitchen sex, implied dom!reader,

max edition // charles edition // lewis edition // toto edition

"she must have secrets somewhere. no one is that innocent. not even like a facebook profile or something....." lando trailed off while him and oscar eyed you while you were speaking to zak.

you were lando's new assistant, around his age with everything to the t. every box checked, perfect to keep mclaren's wonder in check. the issue was that lando had a keen eye. and he knew there was something, some secret that you were hiding.

curiosity got both drivers and a deep dive into your internet footprint turned up nothing. it wasn't that you had a lack of presence on it, it was just there was nothing to show. not even a drunken night at a club or an unsavory joke on twitter.

"maybe she's just that good." oscar shrugged, "perfect for this line of work." he turned to you, "i think maybe you're just assuming things, mate."

lando remained unconvinced. it wasn't until saw you after the summer break, usually your windbreaker while on the track covered your neck. but a shorter haircut plus the lack of the jacket combined to expose your dirty little secret.

you had a tattoo.

tattoos were no scandals. everyone and their mother had a tattoo nowadays. but the knowledge that you had one made sparks light off in lando's brain. it was so normal, but to lando it seemed so scandalous.

a little tattoo of a checkered flag. wasn't that sweet. it was so sweet that it made lando a little harder in his jeans when he saw it. he wanted to trace his fingers across it, kiss at it. watch you grow weak in the knees.

maybe it built onto the crush that lando harboured for you since the two of you met before the season. when you reached out and said, "lovely to meet you, mister norris. i hope we can work well together." then flashed him a smile that made something in his soul met.

you made him melt in ways that made him more willing to listen to his lovely assistant. zak once remarked that you trained him well. which you simply replied, "well mister brown, if lando is made is iron. then i'm made of steel."

so no wonder when you two ended up in a relationship. it was on your terms. lando was more than happy to put the trust in your hands. after all, you made sure that he got from point a to point b. you kept on a better leash than anyone else at mclaren could do.

but lando still wanted to kiss that tattoo so badly.

"hey, angel." he said as he came up behind you. he wrapped his strong arms around you and kissed the side of your neck. he asked, "i didn't know you had a tattoo?"

you chuckled, "i've told you i was always a fan of racing. so of course i'd end up with a tattoo of it." you rested against him, "i also have another one."

he replied, "and i thought that you were the innocent one."

you snorted a laugh as you flipped the pancakes in the pan, "oh please. unlike you, lando, i didn't have photos taken of me of every moment of every day. not everything needed photographic evidence."

"ah, well. i'd love to see you drunk at a club." lando remarked with his lips near the back of your neck, "now where's this other tattoo?"

"maybe after breakfast you can find out." you replied as you got the next pancake onto the plate. but lando was impatient with that sort of things. and he leaned over you to turn off the stove. and when you tried to swat him away with the spatula. you ended up over the counter top next to the stove. you could feel the heat of the appliance near by.

"mmm, aw, c'mon, beautiful. show it to me now. i wanna know all your dirty secrets." his voice was seductive. and while you held the reigns, lando know how to curl his hand in them as well. he leaned over you, his clothed hard on rubbed against your clothed behind, "i bet it's a tramp stamp. awww, dirty girl."

you moaned with your flushed face against the counter. damn lando norris, damn him. you replied, "it's not a tramp stamp. i've never been that drunk. it's on my bicep." and yelped when he got your shirt off over your head. his hand instantly touched your right bicep.

"aw, well isn't this a cute little tattoo.. a little cow."

you replied, "maybe you should get a matching one." you shuddered and let out a soft noise when lando's hands reached to the waistband of your sweatpants.

lando kissed the inked skin and replied, "no, no. i think you should get another. lucky number four." he chuckled, "that would be very cute. maybe my intials right up against your collarbone." his voice tinged with affection and sexual want.

to see his girlfriend/assistant with his number and initials across his skin was an arousing thought.

you chuckled against the granite counter top, "mmm, you know more girls ask for a ring, right? a little less permanent than a tattoo."

lando dropped your sweatpants and panties to your ankles and spread your legs a little further. he grabbed at his hard cock in his own pants and replied, "that's why i want you to get it. after all, i consider your my number one fan."

you rolled your eyes, "just a fan, huh?" and when you tried to move away from the counter, he placed a broad hand at the middle of your shoulders and pressed you back onto the counter. you moaned a little.

"but you're so much more than that, babe. you're the light of my life. the keeper of my secrets. you're my lover and so much more." he pulled his sweatpants and briefs under his cock. he stroked it a few times at the sight of your pussy and smiled to himself, "you're everything and so much more."

"and yet you want to taint my skin, mister norris?" you replied before you chuckled. your back arched a little when lando pressed himself into you.

"mm, i want to taint all of you." he held onto your hips, "make you all might. head to toe. body and soul." he kissed the center of your back where you were still in your bra. you felt the shudder of pleasure course through you as he fucked you up against the counter.

"you sound like a possessive man, lando." you looked over your shoulder and winked at him, "maybe you could have my name on you. so no one gets the wrong idea."

lando beamed at you for a moment, "well of course, everyone should know the woman who keeps me in line. made me a good boy." he rocked against you a little faster and you rested your head back against the counter.

you blushed a little more. his words really made your stomach clench. you felt really amazing under him. he knew how to fuck you so good, he knew how to make your stomach twist in the best way possible. there was something about lando. despite the trouble he could and had caused you, you yearned for him. something so deep. it felt like it was in your soul.

"you're everything to me. in more ways than one. i'm so lucky to have you, beautiful." he moved against you. he leaned forward once more and kissed the back of your neck where the tattoo was.

the sensation of his lips against a ticklish part of you made you tense up. your cunt clenched around his cock and he groaned at the feeling. which only spurred him on to kiss your tattoo more. to hear your sweet moans as he continued to fuck you with a heat in his gut.

while you usually didn't have sex in the kitchen. but lando couldn't help himself with you. there was something about you that just pulled him in. he loved the feeling of you in his arms.

he knew from the moment you met, that he'd want to be in your life for a long while. you held onto the edge of the counter while he rutted up against you. you moaned against the cool counter top, your hot breath warmed the area of the counter you were up against.

you could feel your sweaty body hot against the counter while he fucked you with an intensity that it radiated through your body. your thoughts were full of your lover while he moved. the two of you in the quiet kitchen of your apartment.

you were supposed to start the morning with some breakfast. pancakes for you to share, but it was hard to do that when lando had you up against the counter with his cock snug inside of you. but you could barely resist your lover on the track or when he was giving you puppy dog eyes when you scolded him for forgetting to reply to an email or was late for a meeting. so all bets were off when you two were alone.

his continued to kiss at the back of your neck and you held onto the counter top even tighter. he could feel the excitement in his chest, which caused it to clench. he panted heavily against you. he even kicked under the tattoo, where you were still ticklish and it made you tense up even more.

lando could only imagine how loud you got when you got the tattoo. he kissed your shoulders and continued to rut against you. his thrusts were short and fast, but the mounting pleasure made you feel the heat in your core.

"i can think of some other tattoos for you, beautiful." he said, "you look good with a bit of ink on your skin. turns me on even more." he chuckled as he kissed at you more.

"i can't believe you didn't know that i had another one."

he chuckled as he held onto you tighter, "never looking at your arms when i'm making you feel good." he said as he kissed your neck, which made you feel even more turned on.

"well aren't you a romantic." you moaned as you felt the pleasure hit its peak. you held onto the counter tightly as you arched your back a little bit and climaxed around his cock. your noises were short and your breathing was heavy. your heart was racing and you cursed under your breath.

this spurred lando on. he continued to fuck you and you made such sweet noises as he moved himself against you. he could feel the tension in his legs and the jelly in his knees. for even as someone as strong as him, it was hard for him to fuck while standing up. but, if you were able to climax. then he was going to get his.

his pace didn't stagger, only quicken. he felt the thrum of excitement in his chest as he moved. he kissed your back once more. with a few more thrusts, he pushed himself up inside of you. and finished inside of you. he groaned and said, "you're my girl." as he came.

he slowed to a stop and he kissed your cheek with a deep affection. you giggled a little. when he pulled out and got his cock back into his sweatpants, you still laid against the counter for a moment.

you exhaled deeply before you said, "you better help me finish the pancakes." before you reached for your bottoms. if he was going to give you mind blowing orgasms. he could at the very least help make breakfast.

there wasn't much affair when it happened. after a successful weekend in silverstone. you walked up to meet lando. he noticed a bandage behind your ear. it wouldn't be until you got to your next location that you'd show lando what was under the bandage

it was small, mostly covered by your hair. but lando say it as clear as day. the lucky number four, inked onto your soft skin. <3

the checkered flag tattoo

the cow tattoo

#bunny writes #reader insert #formula one imagine #formula 1 #f1 smut #formula one fanfiction #formula one smut #f1 x reader #lando norris imagine #lando smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smut #lando norris #lando x reader #ln4 drabble #ln4 smut #ln4 imagine #ln4

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mclacedes · 1 month ago

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Let Them See (LH44)

a/n: writing angst wasn't helping my depressed ass at all so here's a smutty thought :)

summary: in which lewis has a controversially young girlfriend, who he suddenly isn't afraid of showing around

warnings: suggestive content, dirty talk, age gap, kind of sick, friends-to-lovers, secret relationship

WC: 1.9k

Everyone knew your relationship with Lewis was byword impulsive and complicated—not because you wanted it to be, but because of the circumstances you were in.

The 16-year age gap between you and Lewis didn’t sit well with everyone, making discretion your only option. You hid away together, sneaking around like teenagers, leaning on each other in any four-walled space. You lost count of how many times you and Lewis went to the rented villa on Lake Como, being able to take bites off each other everywhere possible.

You’d lost track of how many times you’d escaped to the rented villa on Lake Como, stealing moments to lose yourselves in each other.

And you liked it that way. The secrecy, the privacy—you’d been the one to insist on it.

You first met Lewis when you were 22, and he was 38. It was 2023, and your connection had been instant. You became best friends, growing closer with each passing day. On your 23rd birthday, he’d gifted you 23 of your favorite books, each one holding a handwritten note.

Now, at 24, with him at 40, the age gap felt striking, unavoidable. Yet, there was something about it that thrilled you, made your pulse race, your mind whirl, and your body ache with a want you couldn’t quite explain.

Now, it was all speculation for the fans and entertainment for the other drivers, who relished watching you and Lewis attempt to keep your composure in front of the cameras. Every stolen glance and lingering touch fed the rumors, the intrigue, the tension.

But tonight, none of that mattered. Tonight, you couldn’t care less about the cameras or what anyone thought.

It was December 7th, 2025—the night of the final race of the season. The night Lewis cemented his legacy, securing his eighth world championship and becoming the most decorated driver in Formula 1 history. The long-awaited eighth had finally arrived, and the weight of it, the joy of it, was almost too much to contain.

Everyone was at the afterparty—everyone except Charles, who had been Lewis’s fiercest competitor throughout the season. They’d gone head-to-head in countless races, but Charles ultimately finished third in the championship, with Lando getting closer and closer to the so-dreamed-of championship.

But in the end, only one person could take it home. And there happens to be only one GOAT. It had been Lewis’ from the very start.

The room was filled with those who weren’t envious but proud, celebrating his historic achievement. It was a night of laughter, toasts, and admiration for the man who had just become an eight-time world champion.

Lewis sat on a couch in the VIP section of the Abu Dhabi club, slowly breathing in the air of victory and sipping on the glass of champagne in his hand, its price not even a thought in his mind.

The air of victory didn’t reek of the podium’s champagne or the faint musk of the club, though. It smelled just like your Dior perfume, your vanilla soap and your vanilla shampoo.

Victory looked like the pretty girl sat on his thigh, bobbing her head to the sound of the all-too-loud music, sipping off her own glass of golden bubbly beverage.

“I think I’m getting too old for this,” he murmured, his warm breath brushing against your ear, his lips so close you could feel every word.

You chuckled, throwing your head back in that carefree way that always made him smile—it was one of the little things he thought was the cutest about you.

“Wanna leave already, Sir? We’re barely started partying,” you teased, tilting your head to meet his gaze.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping an octave, his words vibrating against your chest. “I’ve got far more interesting things waiting at home, Y/N. And trust me, we can party all night there too.”

The weight of his tone sends a shiver down your spine, warmth blooming low in your belly as the meaning behind his words settled in, making your pulse quicken.

Suddenly, you are too aware of how short your dress is and how his hand palms your thigh. You swallow hard, the music and chatter of the club fading into the background. His dark eyes are locked on yours, and the teasing curve of his lips only deepen your anticipation.

“Is that so?” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper, though you knew he could hear the challenge laced in your tone.

Lewis’s fingers traced idle circles on your thigh, his touch light yet deliberate. “You know it is,” he said, his grin growing darker, more possessive. “I’d even dare say… you like that idea, don’t you?”

“Outrageous!” you replied, flashing a mischievous smile, your teeth catching your bottom lip in a playful bite.

The warmth pooling in your belly grew as his hand slid up a fraction more, reaching the hem of your dress. His fingers toyed with the sequins, sending tiny sparks of sensation through your skin.

“Lewis…” you murmured, your tone caught between playful and cautious, though your smile faltered under his gaze. “We’re in public.”

His laughter rumbled low and deep, a sound that sent a shiver straight through you. “Then you’d better behave, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dangerously soft. His eyes never left yours, and his grin turned wicked as he added, “Because if you keep looking at me like that…” He let the words linger, charged and heavy with intent. “I might just have to take you right here.”

Your breath hitched, a mix of anticipation and adrenaline coursing through you as his words sank in. His hand lingered at the hem of your dress, just enough to tease, to test your resolve.

“Bold of you to assume I’d let you,” you shot back, though your voice wavered slightly, betraying your feigned confidence.

Lewis’s smirk deepened, his gaze never breaking from yours. “Oh, love,” he murmured, his voice like silk wrapping around you, “you’d not only let, you’d beg me to do so.”

Heat flushed through you, and you struggled to keep your composure under his piercing gaze. The music around you seemed to blur into white noise, the club melting away until it felt like it was just the two of you, locked in a silent battle of wills.

“Right… Then what if I told you I would absolutely love you to take me right here?” you said, batting your eyelashes as you looked into his soul through his eyes.

Lewis could feel his pants getting too tight around his crotch as you kept looking at him.

Lewis’s smirk grew even darker, the intensity in his gaze sending a shiver down your spine. “Shit, love…” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, rich and velvety, making a mess on your panties. “I have to remind you just how dangerous it is to play games you can’t win.”

The heat between you was palpable, a private flame burning brighter with every second. The noise of the club, the thrumming bass, the distant laughter—they all faded into oblivion. It was just him, just you, and the tension crackling like electricity in the air.

“Well, I’m not afraid of losing,” you whispered, leaning closer, your lips curling into a teasing smile. “Maybe I want to see just how far you’d go, Lewis.”

His grip on your thigh tightened, and his dark eyes dropped briefly to your lips, before returning to yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. He was holding on by a thread, and you could tell he was teetering between self-control and giving in.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said, his tone a warning laced with hunger.

You tilted your head, your confidence unwavering as you batted your lashes again. “Oh, except I do,” you replied softly, your voice dripping with challenge.

Lewis shifted in his seat, the tightness in his pants making his restraint all the more difficult. His jaw clenched briefly, his free hand resting on the back of your neck, his thumb grazing your skin in a way that sent a jolt through you.

“You’re going to regret saying that,” he said, his lips brushing against your ear, his words a promise and a threat all at once.

But regret was the last thing on your mind. You leaned in, your breath warm against his cheek as you whispered, “Prove it.”

The heat between you was undeniable now, a private storm building despite the crowd around you. The world didn’t matter—the cameras, the whispers, the flashing lights. It was just him, just you, and the pull that neither of you could resist.

And as his lips brushed the shell of your ear again, he whispered, “Let’s get out of here.”

He gently nudged you off his lap, rising to his feet. Taking your hand in his, he led you toward the exit. But just as you reached the door, a sudden burst of cheers echoed from the VIP bar.

Max Verstappen, Lando Norris, Carlos Sainz, and Alex Albon were all staring at you two, grinning like they’d just caught wind of the hottest gossip in the room.

You smile, your cheeks flushing slightly, and bury your face in Lewis’ chest, hiding your laughter. He chuckles softly, his arms tightening around you for a moment before you pull back. As you step away, you look up to find him casually flipping off his co-workers with a playful grin.

A mischievous spark ignites within you, and without missing a beat, you mirror his action, flipping them off with a smirk of your own.

Lewis catches your move, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he watches you mirror him. His eyes gleam with approval, his playful side clearly taking over.

“That’s my baby,” he says, his voice low and teasing as he steps closer, his arm brushing against your shoulders, wrapping around your neck possessively.

The group of drivers, now aware of your shared gesture, laughs and shakes their heads, but their amusement only fuels your defiance. The tension between you and Lewis grows electric even when you two stop flipping the guys off, the playful challenge still lingering in the air.

You’re suddenly hyper-aware of the flashing lights, the cameras capturing every second of your interaction. The bright flashes momentarily blind you, but it's the weight of their gaze on both of you that makes your pulse race. It’s as if the entire world is watching, amplifying everything—the chemistry, the defiance, the thrill of the moment.

“Lewis…” you murmur, your voice low and laced with a mix of desire and curiosity.

Lewis doesn’t flinch at the attention, his smirk only deepening as he locks eyes with you. “Let them see. Let them gossip,” he murmurs, his thumb slowly tracing circles on your skin. “We’ve got this.”

Your heart pounds faster, the electricity between you undeniable. You hold his gaze, a playful yet daring smile curling on your lips.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he says, his voice a quiet promise, a declaration of everything you both are, everything you’ve been in that moment.

And as the flashes of the cameras continue, you both walk hand in hand toward the door, leaving the noise, the chaos, the spotlight behind. All that matters now is the intoxicating pull between you two, and the freedom of knowing that whatever the world says, you’ve got each other.

The night belongs to you. And that’s more than enough.

#formula 1 #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis #hamilton #lh44 imagine #lh44 x reader #team lh44 #lh44 #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton smut #f1 grid x reader

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lcvclywon · 2 months ago

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1:56 am | niki x female reader , best friends to ?, college au

── warnings: kissing, cursing, drinking, vomiting, skinship | wc: 1.31k

an | it's a canon event that i come onto this acc every few months js to write self projecting fics then dip, also new layout ig!

“Another shot!” it was the fifth time niki had heard you call those words out and he figured it was time to intervene before he would be lugging you home slung across his shoulders

Before you could even grab the drink niki quickly downed the whole thing stopping you in your tracks – quite evidently leaving you annoyed. In all honesty niki was doing you a favour, he just inhaled two shots worth of tequila for you and he was never known to be big on hard liquor. Though his efforts remained in vain, from the corner of his eye he noticed the all too familiar glint of red plastic in your hand a bit too late – there goes your liver.

“YN come on I think that’s enough drinks for tonight-” niki insisted whilst attempting to push you away from the living room coffee table that had turned into a pseudo beer pong station – sticky with alcohol and swarmed by intoxicated laughing.

“Stop you’re so lame,” despite his firm grasp on your wrist you managed to put up a pretty hefty fight before wriggling yourself loose “I had like what- 5 drinks?”

“Plus 6 more at pregraming” karina managed to chime in – and of course that’s when she decides to join in the convo – much to your annoyance her comment completely juxtaposed her pouring tequila down your throat 15 minutes prior.

Snapping a dirty glare you were about to defend yourself until niki’s voice boomed through your ears.

“11 drinks? Do you want to die of alcohol poisoning or something?” caring as always – god you hated that.

Of course you knew niki cared about you, it was just – certain times his kindness felt misplaced. Like when you would offhandedly mention liking that cherry glazed lip gloss you saw displayed at a price far too high to be considered, yet the product was already in niki’s hand and checked out before you could even get a say. Or when you would find 10000 won slipped under your wallet after club meetings where you had been incessantly complaining about your growling stomach, a small note attached to it with his toddler like handwriting – laughable but endearing. Or the times you would find yourself flooded in club meetings and activity preparations, somehow niki always managed to lighten the load. You appreciated it really – but you could never get rid of the annoyance that brewed in your gut.

“Does he do this for all his other friends? I mean we’re close but – there’s a line.”

He had to know the implications of his actions right? Or were you just imagining things you wanted.

Your friendship always seemed to balance on a tightrope of something you knew wasn't platonic – but if you never acted on it hey, what’s the harm done? Who were you to decline his offers? He’s just kind, he’s nice. He’s just niki.

This was just another instance of him caring far too much for your liking. It bothered you but you masked it with banter as always. “Dude I’m fine- like really it’s noth-” and suddenly the sickening sensation of warmth trickling up your throat plagued your senses. You made a B-line for the bathroom.

Quickly following behind niki kneeled down behind you, his hands immediately rushing to hold your hair back as you puked your guts out (again.) and even though vomit was pouring out your throat somehow niki’s fingertips brushing against your cheek overpowered the burning sensation of bile gushing out.

The warmth of his breath tickled the nape of your neck whilst his other hand reached over to trace circles on your back in attempts to soothe you. You were vomiting your guts out, the least romantic situation one could be in, and you could only focus on niki’s gaze burning into the back of your head.

Shooting your head up niki reached to wipe your mouth with discarded tissue paper, quietly mumbling under his breath “yeah that’s enough for today…” and for once you could only nod.

The trip back to his apartment was a blur. You could only really remember the frustration that lingered in his words as he muttered “you’re two years older, why am I the one having to take care of you…” suddenly you were transported back to when you were 6 sitting through your mothers scoldings.

His frustrated pout and furrowed eyebrows however didn’t bring out the same fear your mother did though, you could only giggle thinking about how funny this whole situation was. Looping your arm with his you feigned innocence, putting on your best pout and repeated apologies (you never meant them) until you reached his shabby studio apartment.

“Stop YN…” his tone unusually firm, you took notice to how he attempted to remove his arms from your grasp. Huh, why did that bother you?

“Wait – are you seriously mad?” you were shocked but in all honesty it wouldn’t be too surprising considering he had cleaned up your messes far too many times to count. Trailing behind him like a puppy you awaited a response whilst he picked through his clothes to find something suitable for you to wear. Your eyes drilled in on his expression, he seemed- uneasy.

“No YN it’s-” sighing out he handed you his worn grey shirt that was five sizes too big and a pair of grey sweatpants that you knew you would have to fold over just for them to barely hang on your hips “you’re just always like this when you’re drunk”

“Like what?”

“Just, insincere.” Now what the hell was that supposed to mean? “Just change we can talk in the morning”

You were in awe. Niki was being uncharacteristically moody and you really couldn’t pinpoint why. A part of you felt annoyed that he even had the audacity to talk about insincerity when none of his actions were ever genuine either. At least you never thought they were.

Slipping into his oversized clothing that hung over you like a drape you made your way to his bed and laid down beside him as he leaned against the headboard picking aggressively at the loose seams in his shirt.

“You’re just-” he finally started, still avoiding your gaze though “you get too clingy…” the position you guys were in really didn’t help your case too much either

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“It’s just, none of this feels right when it’s ingenuine” he said before adjusting himself to lay flat next to her.

“Do you want it to be or something?”

Silence.

“You know I could honestly say the same thing about you though,” even whilst bickering your hand seemed to find its way to the dip of his collarbones, tracing circles across its smooth exterior “don’t you know what your actions mean?”

“Yeah, I do”

You could only laugh in disbelief, yeah and he wants to talk about not being genuine.

“You don’t stop me though” his hands found themselves nested in your knotted hair, looping it back and forth between his fingers. He wasn’t wrong, you never did stop him, perhaps it was because you never felt like it was too much of a big deal – or maybe a small part of you hoped he would finally get enough of your oblivion and cross the line.

Engulfed in silence you could only gaze down at his fingers that were now entangled with yours, his hands previously playing with your locks of hair now adjusted to nest you close to his chest for you to hear his heartbeat. You figured your silence was enough of an answer – it always was.

Drifting off to sleep you felt the gentle pressure of his lips on the top of your forehead before muttering out that you were probably tired in lieu of a goodnight.

Somehow it always ended this way, and somehow you’d rather settle for that than an answer.

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mistywaves98 · 3 months ago

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Stalker! Scara and his unsuspecting classmate/friend, you

Just something I had in my head for a while that I just poured out into a post. These lil headcanons don't really flow properly either 😭

¡Warnings!: Suggestive (?), Reader is painfully oblivious, Can be read as yandere scara, Stalking, Taking nonconsensual photos, General creepy behavior!

Stalker! Scara who's had his eyes on you for a long time, longer than you could've imagined all while you're completely oblivious to it. Or maybe he's just that stealthy?

Stalker! Scara whose room is so untidy. Dirty laundry, empty noodle cups and snack wrappers line the floor of his messy man cave. But he still keeps his mini shrine dedicated to you completely clean and flawless.

Stalker! Scara who has an entire wall dedicated to you. The left side is the gallery of pictures he's meticulously cumulated over multiple months while the other is shelves of stuff you've either touched or he sneakily 'borrowed'.

Stalker! Scara who has a collection of the most random things because it has some sort of connection to you. Be it a pen you used to chew the end of or a piece gum you've chewed, or even a tissue you blew your nose in.

Stalker! Scara who works his ass of at a measly part time job in a convenience store near campus just to have money he can spend on you. Coincidentally, it happens to be the same one you frequent a lot.

Stalker! Scara who has most definitely stolen some bills from the register, particularly the ones you had given him to pay for your items one day. Just another addition to his ever-growing collection.

Stalker! Scara who somehow happens to wherever you are on campus, seemingly doing his own thing on his phone. But in reality he's just trying to get perfect angle of your ass as you bend over to pick up something you dropped.

Stalker! Scara who initially joined the photography club out of school obligations but now uses it as an opportunity to enhance his photo-taking skills to get better pictures of you instead of the blurry, barely visible ones he had clumsily taken in the beginning of his little obsession.

Stalker! Scara who's got his hands on every piece of personal information about you that he can find. Be it your birthday, your relationship with your family, your favourite song, a place that you frequent, or maybe even a particular brand of clothes that you buy.

Stalker! Scara who always makes sure to send some sort of gift for you on any remotely special occasion. Sometimes it's a bouquet of your favourite flowers, an item you had been eyeing in the shops for a while or perhaps something more daring like a pair of lacey panties he would die to see you in. Those risky gifts are always sent anonymously, leaving you quite puzzled.

Stalker! Scara who always keeps track of your schedule, having all your planned events on his calendar so he can keep an eye on your every move.

Stalker! Scara who somehow finds himself on every bus that you're taking whenever you're going into town, gaze fixated on you from afar. He can't help but wipe the drool off his chin as his eyes notice the way your breasts and thighs jiggle with every bump in the road.

Should I make pt 2?

#x reader smut #smut #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader smut #✧･ﾟ:* meena's memos! ✧･ﾟ:*#scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche #scara x reader smut #scara smut #scaramouche x reader smut #scaramouche smut #yandere scaramouche x reader smut #yandere scaramouche x reader

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f0point5 · 1 year ago

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Max Verstappen x bestfriend!reader Masterlist

She’s still bejewelled - Y/N finds out F1 wag pages are once again speculating she is dating her best friend, Max Verstappen

It’s (not) a cruel summer - Y/N and Max enjoy the summer break

August slipped away - Y/N does a Q&A to catch up with her followers after summer break

Burning red- Lando puts his foot in it

Holy ground - Fans discuss their excitement to see Y/N and Max interact at Zandvoort

I’m the one who understands you - A window into Max and Y/N’s home life

It turned into something bigger - Y/N’s comments about her childhood friend, Mick Schumacher, lead to a social media firestorm

They’d say I’d hustled, put in the work - A look at Y/N’s podcast, Dirty Air(time)

Shake it off - Determined to forget her worries, Y/N goes out parting with Max and Lando

They say home is where the heart is - Fans discuss how Y/N and Max love being roommates

(We’re) in the club doing I don’t know what - Fans look back on Max and Y/N’s Club Rat Renaissance

Pauses, then says, (he’s) my best friend - Y/N spends the day in Amsterdam while Max does press at Zandvoort

How evergreen, our group of friends - Snippets of Y/N and Max’s other friends on the grid and beyond

We’re faster and never scared - It’s a dramatic Friday in the Zandvoort paddock

I watch Superman fly away - The drama continues as Y/N and Mick have a run in in the paddock

Long live all the magic he made - Y/N supports Max as he equals the record for most consecutive wins

Remember the footsteps - A look at Y/N and Mick’s lifelong friendship

He has his father’s eyes…his father’s ambition - A look at Y/N’s relationship with Jos

I love your handshake, meeting my father - Fans discuss Jos’s perspective on Y/N, and her relationship with Max

And maybe it was egos swinging - Everyone speculates about the cause and consequences of Y/N and Mick’s falling out

I fell from the pedestal - Y/N becomes the subject of internet trolling after her fall out with Mick becomes public

Don’t know how long it’s gonna take to feel okay - Unable to deal with the stress and trolling, Y/N goes home to Switzerland, cutting off Max

My reputation’s never been worse so - Y/N’s absence sparks concerns amongst those closest to her

If someone comes at us, this time I’m ready - Y/N’s friends publicly support her as the hate continues

You don’t want to know me, I will just let you down

My words shoot to kill when I’m mad - Mick and Y/N finally talk

Something in your eyes says we can beat this - Max has a tough start to an important weekend, but his luck is about to change

(We) saw something the can’t take away - Y/N is there as Max wins at Monza and breaks another record

This is life before you know who you’re gonna be - Netizens discuss Max and Y/N’s enemy era

20 questions, we tell the truth - Y/N catches up with her followers after a hectic couple of weeks, and meets a man in Monaco

On a Wednesday, in a café - Y/N’s podcast with Daniel leads to some interesting revelations

Do you really want to know where I was? - Y/N and Max spend a day at the factory as rumours begin to swirl

I make it look oh so easy - Y/N and Max choose different confidants as they both attempt to avoid the elephant in the room

You’ll find me on my tallest tiptoes - It gets harder for Y/N to keep her secret

Slow motion, double vision in rose blush - Y/N gets back in the saddle while Max watches from the sidelines in more ways than one

Carnations you had thought were roses - Two of Y/N’s secrets are revealed

Didn’t it all seem new and exciting - Max leaves Y/N behind in Monaco as she reflects on her date

Loose lips sink ships all the damn time - Y/N heads to Switzerland for a special appointment as her relationship with Max is put under a microscope

I don’t wanna miss you like this - Y/N and Max deal with the distance between them differently

Your finger on my hairpin trigger - Tensions run high as Max has a bad day on track and Y/N gets defensive

Takes one to know one - Y/N’s much needed talk with Elliot is interrupted by an explosive qualifying in Singapore

I want to tell you not to get lost in these petty things - Max’s streak comes to an end and he and Y/N look ahead to Suzuka

Forever going with the flow, but you’re friction - Max asking Y/N to fly out early to Japan leads to tension and Y/N turns to Daniel for advice

I drive down different roads - Fans, and Y/N, speculate about her budding relationship

(They) knew what it was, he is in love - Netizens set out to prove that Max is in love with Y/N

(We) counted days, I counted miles, to see you there - Y/N arrives in Japan and is reunited with Max

Balancing on breaking branches - Max receives an unexpected delivery as Y/N answers questions from the media and her mother

It’s you and me, there’s nothing like this - As Max gets back to business as usual in Suzuka, wag social media does it’s thing

My (baby flies) like a jet stream - Max has a good day on track and Y/N’s Vogue article goes live

I can read you like a magazine - The internet reacts to mentions of Max in Y/N’s Vogue article

He’s passing by, rare as a glimmer of a comet in the sky - Red Bull securing the WCC is overshadowed by the revelation that Max hates podcasts

The lingering question(s) kept me up - Y/N does an Instagram Q&A

I just may like some explanations - Y/N answers more questions

How you held me in your arms that September night, the first time you ever saw me cry - Set in 2017, we learn what led to Y/N’s dad being dropped as Max’s sponsor, early in their friendship

People started talking, putting us through our paces - When Y/N is spotted out with Elliot, Instagram, Max, and Lando react

I don’t wanna touch you - Y/N finds herself short of breath on her padel date. Later, she appears on Max’s stream

(I) will never make my parents’ mistakes - Y/N’s dad hears about her dating life, and her mother weighs in

Drinking on a (yacht) with you all over me - Y/N and Max kick of his birthday celebrations with a day on the water, while Elliot changes his tune

I’d pick you up and we’d go back in time - Y/N and Max bring in his birthday somewhere special

We’re gonna be timeless - It’s Max’s birthday, but Y/N isn’t the only one planning surprises

Take the moment and taste it - Max enjoys a birthday boat day with family and friends, and Vic makes an accidental discovery

There’s glitter on the floor after the party - It’s the morning after night before. Max and Vic discuss Y/N’s letter

Movin’ on was always easy for me to do - Y/N and Elliot meet up to talk and Y/N’s friend weighs in. Y/N’s tweets irritate Max

Your eyes look like (being at) home - Y/N goes riding, Lando proposes plans, and Max has plans of his own

No I didn’t hear the news, ‘cause we were somewhere else - Max and Y/N arrive in Doha, but rumours about Max’s Monaco exploits follow them

You heard the rumours from (your friends) - Max attends Media Day while Y/N hangs out with an old friend

‘Cause they don’t know about the night in the hotel - Max’s GQ interview exposes an interesting part of Max and Y/N’s past

I was dancing around, dancing around it - Y/N and Clara celebrate Max’s on track triumphs

(You) stand up, champion tonight - Max becomes a three time world champion

This life is sweeter than fiction - Max wins in Qatar in a physically gruelling race

Life makes love look hard - Back in Monaco, Y/N is seen out with Elliot, and he makes a bold suggestion

Can we always be this close? - Y/N and Max have a chill day at home and while Twitter notice Max made an admission in an interview, Y/N makes an admission to Victoria

Inescapable, I’m not even gonna try - Y/N and Max spend a day at the factory, where both realise they may have something to work on

You go talk to your friends, talk to my friends, talk to me - Y/N’s podcast with Oscar comes out, on the same day she finally films one with Max. Meanwhile, Max uses the sim in an unconventional way

Yes, I remember what you said last night - Y/N’s plans for COTA baffle Christian, and Y/N learns an unexpected fact about the past

Take out, then take me home - Y/N prepares for Austin, and an interview with Max comes out

Love’s a game, wanna play? - Y/N tries her hand at padel after watching Max compete, and Max steams with Redline

Rosé flowing with your chosen family - Clara and Y/N spend the day together, and Clara becomes determined to finish what she started in 2017

(We are) a flight risk, with a fear of falling - Y/N and Max head to the US

Ain’t it funny, rumours fly - Y/N heads to a Ferrari gala as rumours swirl about Max’s next career move amid reports of infighting at Red Bull

As if I don’t already see (it) - The circus settles in to Texas and Y/N’s dad weighs in on Elliot

Can you see right through me? - Y/N and Elliot make a king and awkward paddock debut

I’ve been sleeping so long in a twenty year dark night - Y/N sheds light on her dating history while she and Elliot struggle to adjust to life in the paddock

It’s morning now, it’s brighter now - Y/N reaches out to an old friend for support. Meanwhile, Daniel tries to support Max

The moment I could see it - Max takes another win in Austin while Elliot reaches his breaking point

You’ll find the real thing instead - Y/N and Elliot have an honest conversation

In the name of being honest - Bonus part where Y/N answers Instagram questions after the Austin GP

I’m asking you why - More of Y/N’s post Austin Q&A

You’ve got a girl at home and everybody knows that - Y/N and Max are suspects in the wildest paddock rumour yet as they wrap up their trip to Austin

You learn my secrets and you figure out why I’m guarded - Y/N gets brutally honest with Mick as Max plays goalkeeper twice

You saw the truth in me - Max cuts it close before media day as reports surface of security threats in Mexico

They tell you that you’re lucky, but you’re so confused - Max attends a gruelling media day as Y/N deals with the heat of Mexico

Laughing with (your head in my) lap, like you were my closest friend - Everyone has a tough quali day

This is the golden age - Maxico delivers another win, and Y/N celebrates with tequila

(You would never) me darling, but who could stay? - Y/N and Max arrive in Brazil for a short break before the race

No one has to know what we do - Max and Y/N fall off the map and enjoy some private time

I can’t say anything to your face - Max and Y/N continue to leave each other flustered and Max starts press for the Brazilian GP

The way you move is like a full on rainstorm - Max takes pole in difficult conditions and Y/N gets near her breaking point

We were cards sharks, playing games - Max wins the sprint and Y/N wins games of her own

🚨I’ve had to add a second masterlist for all posts after this point. That can be found here 🚨

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #formula 1 #max verstappen fanfiction #max verstappen x you #f1 imagine #f1 social media au #f1 #lando norris #lando norris x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher

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starsofang · 9 months ago

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Get Well Soon john price x f!reader word count: 4.3k tw: MDNI, NSFW, jealous price, possessiveness, oral sex, fingering, dirty talk, just a bit nasty ngl

Jealousy was a disease, and John was its desired host that it ravaged with an unfurling blaze of smoldering flames that scorched through the bloodstream like injected venom. It simmered at the bones and left him scathed, dissipating into bitter ash that filled the air around him with the pungent scent of his own distaste.

In other words, John really fucking hated seeing you wrapped around Soap like a damn boa constricter ready to sink your fangs into him like a feast.

The whiskey he’d been sipping on with tedious sips was now thrown back into his throat, sliding down to his stomach and leaving him with an acidic aftertaste. The alcohol only coaxed the fire into an uproar, the tips of the flames flicking its red-hot tongue in the flesh of his skin and scalding him with third degree burns from the inside and out.

He tried focusing on the emptiness that stared back at him from the bottom of his glass, fingers coated in the icy condensation where he gripped around it with vice. It prickled his fingertips, the force of his grasp causing his knuckles to go white and veins to flex uncomfortably in the back of his hand.

But the grim sight of melting ice wasn’t nearly as intriguing as the sight of you, the woman who’s been gnawing your way through his skin and bone for the past however-the-fuck-long that John’s been tongue-tied over you, smiling like a cheshire while Soap maneuvered you around on the dance floor of the dimly lit club, dipping his fingertips in the fat of your hips.

Your hips swayed in earnest, Soap and you sharing a laugh as he tried to replicate your pace and ended up stumbling around like a damn fool. The spark of amusement that shimmered in your irises was so bright, John could see it from where he sat at the bar. It blinded him, like a flashbang being hurled his way without a single ounce of warning, causing his ears to ring and his eyes to blink away the dryness that dusted his retinas.

He shouldn’t be mad, really. You weren’t his, and he wasn’t yours.

Soap was simply livening the mood after a grueling mission was deemed a success. John was the one that offered to take you out, allowing you a night free of suffocating peril, yet here he was, moping like a child who’d just gotten his video games taken away.

He wasn’t a jealous man. He’d never taken an interest in a woman long enough for it to tread into that type of territory, and his work occupied him like a slave to commitment – commitment to the job, and never to a pretty woman deserving of much more than him.

Yet, you had somehow begun worming your way into his brain, molding it to the shape of you. Your smile, your laugh, the way you chewed your lip when deep in thought, the plush skin reddening under its abuse and clashing with the tone of your skin. Everything about you was hardwired into his brain, filed away and hidden in the depths of his thoughts.

It was selfish of him, he knew.

You were his subordinate – if he could call you that, really. You worked with Laswell, which meant you worked with him. A package deal, one he had no choice but to accept when it came down to it.

He was playing a dangerous game, allowing the churlish spur of envy to grab him by the throat and choke him into submission. It darkened his vision with spots of red rage, lighting with a flicker of flames that illuminated in the reflection of his pupils.

But John was a fond lover of games, given his track record of coaxing enemy intel out of the lips of grotty men through the bite of his threatening words and the sting of his knife into their mangy skin. He knew how to play to get what he wanted, what he needed, but you were a puzzle with thousands of pieces that he just couldn’t figure out how to complete.

He clung to you like a moth to a flame. A dog to its bone. A bullet to a wound.

You were his ecstasy that he could no longer deny, and he was slowly succumbing to the addiction. He got high off of the very being of you, injecting you into his veins with guilty pleasure.

And John didn't know how much longer he could starve himself from his fix.

Unable to watch the way Soap embraced you with a feverish warmth that had your expression melted into content gratification, he stood from the bar stool with a lick of virulent hostility, the legs scraping against the floor like nails to a chalkboard. Gaz spared him a worrying look, and when he went to open his mouth to ask if he was okay, John sent him a dismissive wave of his hand, muttering a gravelly ‘smoke break’ before taking off.

The chill of the night air smothered him with a relieving shiver down his spine, nipping his cheeks that were warmed from a mix of club smog and alcohol firing in his bloodstream. He was far from drunk, far from tipsy, but the burning desire he harbored for you made him feel the buzz of a high that hazed over all thoughts of calm serenities.

Leaning against the old brick of the club, he sifted a hand through the pocket of his jacket, fishing out a cigarette. Cigars were much more his taste, but unenjoyable when having to shove them in the bowels of a cramped pocket.

Lighting it up and taking a thick puff, the burn of smoke did nothing to calm the hideous monster that dared to rear its head against the fabrics of his heart. It was hungry, vengeful, baring its teeth in hopes of sinking them into flesh and bone, tearing its victim apart limb by measly limb.

The music boomed faintly from the closed door of the club, pounding vexing notes through his eardrums and tainting them with a distasteful noise.

John continued his routine of inhale and exhale, dipping into the dance of wispy smoke that surrounded him and basked his aura in musk and pungency. It swallowed him whole, enough so that he didn’t hear the whisk of the club door opening from beside him, and a familiar voice sparking fireworks in his mind.

“Sir!” you exclaimed, and John felt his shoulders tense with wavering remembrance of the way Soap wrapped his tattered arms around you, his lips leaned in close to your ear to speak with you over the loudness of the music, the way he was the reason you were giggling like schoolgirl off her rocker. “I didn’t see you at the bar. You feeling okay, Captain?”

The name left a tangy taste in his mouth. Bittersweet, souring.

“Thought I told you to call me John,” he grumbled with a ghost of a smile, tight and forced. It was more a grimace than a smile, as of course you would notice. Of course.

Keen eye, you had. It was one of the many traits John found himself falling into.

“John,” you corrected with a smile so bright, it practically laid out all of the stars in the sky in a shimmering blanket of wondrous light. “Why are you out here and not inside with the others?”

John had to hold back a lingering scoff that threatened to claw its way out of purgatory and fill the air with bitter irk.

“Got a bit stuffy in there, don’t you think?” he offered in place of spiteful words, but even at his attempt, the words came out clipped if your frown was anything to come by. “Needed a break.”

“You seemed bothered, Cap– John.”

“Mm.”

Your frown deepened and it only burdened him further. He didn’t want to be the reason for your upset, but that green little gremlin that coaxed him into anguished jealousy didn’t give two shits. It settled into his bones with enervating annoyance, paining him with ache.

“Don’t let me stop you from your fun with Soap,” he muttered dryly, uttering the words before he could stop himself.

Your eyebrows raised and you stared at him for a long moment, taking him in. His tense shoulders, tight lips pulled into a thin line, his firm grip on his cigarette that would’ve snapped it in half if he used an ounce more of strength.

“Something’s bothering you, sir,” you noted, and he gave you a taut smile.

“Look at that. Quite the brain on you.”

“No need to be rude about it, John.”

“Not being rude.”

“You are.”

John sucked in a sharp breath, nostrils flaring when he deeply exhaled. His eyes bore into yours like frigid icicles ready to pierce into you. It was chilling to the bone, sending an unsettling shiver down your spine. John noticed.

“It’d be best if you head on inside,” he hummed, his tone quipped with a hint of warning.

“Really?” you asked in disbelief and he snorted.

“Really.”

John knew he was being unfair. His envy was eating at him from the inside, bubbling its way out in molten poison that burned in his mouth.

“Something is clearly bothering you, Captain. Is it a crime to check on you?” Your tone began matching his own sour one, biting into him like a feral dog with its hackles raised.

“What’s a crime is you saddlin’ up with Soap like he’s your bloody suitor,” he hissed, and there it was, the bitter taste of frothing temper seeping out of his lips like red-hot lava. It scalded him, leaving him with third degree burns on his tongue. “Lettin’ him have at you like a fuckin’ dove for the takin’.”

“What?” you breathed, eyebrows knitting together in bafflement. “What are you trying to say?”

“What I’m tryin’ t’say, what I’ve been wantin’ t’say, is that I don’t like the way he was touchin’ you,” he declared in earnest. He stood straight from where he was leaned against the wall, glowering down at you with a look that could’ve pinned you to the gravel beneath your foot. “I’ve been patient. I’ve kept my distance. But enough’s a fuckin’ ‘nough.”

You didn’t cower under his looming glare, nor did you take a step back like you should’ve. You remained firmly rooted in your spot next to him, eyes flickering between the scowl on his mouth to the fiery eyes that threatened to burst into explosion any second.

“You’re jealous, Captain,” you stated, quite obviously. It tickled the little monster that was nearly bursting out of his skin.

“Rightfully so,” he muttered. “I don’t like people touchin’ what’s mine.”

“I wasn’t aware that I was yours to begin with, Captain.”

“John,” he reminded you. “I’d be happy to make you aware of it. Print it in that pretty head of yours so you won’t forget it.”

Warmth blossomed under your skin, spreading from head to toe and curling you into his burning embers. The words struck you like lightning, quick and sudden, leaving you dazed.

You could smell the faint cigarette smoke and whiskey in the fan of his breath as it settled over your face. You took it in, breathing through your nostrils and letting it settle to the core. It was musky and fragrant, stirring your brain into goopy mush.

“How’s that sound, sweetheart?” he mused, nearly sending you into an early grave. Fuck, you’d dig it yourself if it meant hearing those words on repeat.

“I–” You swallowed, mouth suddenly parched.

John stepped closer to you, a dangerous and brooding step. His frame towered over yours, head tilted down to ensure eye contact remained secured. He wouldn’t allow you to look away, wouldn’t allow you the chance to catch your breath. He knew what he was doing, knew what you were feeling.

“Just say the word,” he breathed, tickling your nose with his piquant scent. “Say the word and I’ll make it happen, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you managed, voice less confident than it had been before when you let your frustration get the better of you. Submissive, willing.

John’s lips perked into a pleased smile, eyes brimming with amusement and risk. He was taking the leap off of a daunting cliff, diving headfirst in a pool of unknown and uncertainty. But oh, he was certain of this.

You tasted the poignant flavors that melted from his tongue on to yours when he sealed his offer with a kiss. It was demanding, stern, his mouth molding into yours in the shape of a promise.

He traveled the shape of your jaw, rough hand entangling itself in the feathers of your hair. Tugging, wrapping it in his grasp, luring you into him with a burning desire to mark what was his. It was fire mixing with gasoline, burning scriptures in your skin, burning his name.

John swallowed every gasp and groan, eager and greedy. He captured your bottom lip with teeth, sinking in with a grueling bite, carving his indents into the plush flesh. He barely allowed you to gather air in your lungs, and it left you feeling dizzy, untrusting of your own legs to keep you steady.

“Do me a favor, love,” he grunted in the midst of your kiss, pulling back only to get a glimpse of the glossy look in your eyes. “Go on and tell the boys you aren’t feelin’ well and I’m takin’ you home. Had too much to drink, so I’m gettin’ you to bed, hm? Can you do that f’me?”

Your breath was shaky when you released a sigh, and nodded in tenacity, practically scrambling back into the club like a dog with its tail between its legs.

John stayed true to his promise of taking you home and tucking you into bed – just not in the way the boys were told.

He was like a predator pouncing on its prey the moment you arrived at your humble abode. His hands explored every expanse of your body, shedding you until you were bare with a trail of clothes leading to your bedroom in its wake.

He was famished, like a man starved for weeks on end, and the only thing that would satiate him was ravishing you to the bone.

You thought after agreeing that you were John’s and he was yours, it would feed his burning anger warranted from jealousy. If anything, it was the opposite.

He was firm and demanding, determined to etch every part of him into the plains of your skin. His hands were skilled in the way he practically shoved you into the mattress, lips remaining locked into place on your own.

He was a man on a mission, and you knew John to be one to never fail to complete it.

“M’gonna show you exactly what’s botherin me,” he mumbled into your mouth. His voice was raspy and guttural, laced with an undeniable wisp of arousal. “Been botherin’ me for ages.”

True to his word, his lips, chapped with a sheen of your mixed saliva moistening them, trailed down the column of your neck. They were neither rough or soft kisses, but rather balanced and precise. Teeth nicked the sensitive skin, taking it between tender bites and nursing the hissing stings with the point of his tongue.

Marking his territory, just as promised.

“You never said anything,” you acknowledged through a breathy sigh, lips parted and hazy eyes pointed at the ceiling as he worked wonders on your jawline.

“Didn’t have the gall to, ‘til I saw you cozied up with Mactavish,” he grunted, and as if the thought passing by in remembrance settled into his brain, he bit down a bit harder on the spot where your neck and shoulder met.

John peppered his kisses down from your clavicle, creating a trail to your sternum. It tingled with a feverish burn, spotting your skin with a faint flush. One of his calloused hands slid up your side, prompting a shiver along the way, until it grasped the mounds on your chest in a possessive hold.

His tongue darted out to circle a perked nipple, teasing, mocking. You couldn’t hold back the pathetic whine, and the rumble of his smug chuckle vibrated your whole body. Offering mercy, he enveloped the entirety of your nipple in his mouth, grazing his teeth along the sensitive bud and causing you to hiss in a mix of pain and pleasure – perfectly balanced, because John was a calculated man, and he never left a job unsatisfactory.

Your thighs rested limply on each side of his waist, and when he gave a particularly hard suck, they tightened around him, knees knocking into the thick of his ribcage. Instantaneously, his other hand that wasn’t occupied with holding your breast came to grab hold of your knee, carefully peeling it away from where it rested on the warmth of his skin, tugging you apart until you were spread and vulnerable.

That same hand slowly slipped down your knee, sweeping along your inner thigh and worshiping the smooth skin with a swipe of his fingertips. They were rough against your skin in comparison, and the sensation made you jolt.

They continued their downward exploration until you felt the subtle touch of a finger experimentally slide along your slit. You wanted to feel embarrassed by how wet you were from nothing more than kissing and him ravishing your breasts like he was feasting on a meal, but you couldn’t.

Judging from his muffled groan, he didn’t seem to mind it either.

“Fuckin’ soaked and I haven’t even touched you,” he observed, rearing his head back from your chest so he could gleam down at the sight of you spread out for him, glistening in the dim light of the room, forming a sheen over the tips of his fingers.

An embarrassed noise sounded in the back of your throat and you tilted your head to the side to avoid his smoldering gaze. He tutted, grabbing hold of you by the chin to force you to look back at him. His eyes were lit up with the same fire as before, yet this time, it burned brightly, illuminating his thirst for salvation.

“Don’t do that,” he said, tone dripping with the command of the leader he was and had always been. “You’re goin’ to look at me while I take you. Had no problem lookin’ at Soap when you danced with him, so you should have no problem lookin’ at me when I make you come on my tongue.”

You had to close your eyes to compose yourself, sucking in a sharp breath that pierced your lungs and filled your chest with an ache only he could soothe. They sent shocks through your body, lighting up like fireworks.

When John seemed satisfied that you’d listen, that you’d digested every word and command that slipped off his tongue, he let go of your chin, pleased to see you kept your promise of keeping your eyes on him.

He returned his attention to your silky cunt, dipping a finger in the slick that seemed never ending. His mouth was practically watering at the visual, and he was desperate for a taste.

John wasted no time in stooping down to be leveled with your cunt, breath fanning over it and causing you to squirm. He sent you a warning glare before poking out his tongue, gliding it over the sensitive nub before fully engulfing his mouth around it.

The sound you released was near inhuman, strangled and choked in surprise. His mouth was warm and inviting as he began devouring you, humming greedily at the tangy taste that smoothed over his tongue and filled his mouth.

It was intoxicating, addicting, surging through his bloodstream like a high he’d never come down from. Hazy, clouded. It disoriented him, smoothing over his mind with nothing but thoughts of consuming you until you were a puddled mess.

Your hand found its way in his hair, tangling in the mess of strands and tugging. Possessive in the way you pushed him deeper into your core, his nose digging into you as he inhaled the sweetness of your scent. The smell of you attracted him like hummingbirds to nectar, and he couldn’t get enough.

“Fuck,” he breathed into you, and the gust of air mixed with warmth and a slight chill all at the same time had you whining. “Look at you. Such a pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

He didn’t bother to wait for your answer before diving right back into you. He didn’t want to hear words, he didn’t want to hear smugness. All he wanted was to hear those sweet sounds filter out of you, like a soothing song playing on repeat.

He became more possessive in the way he took you, the subtle tenderness he was showing before melting into filth. Your slick soaked into the coarse hairs of his beard, chin dripping with evidence of your arousal that only became more pungent the more he sucked and prodded.

“John,” you whimpered helplessly, and he rumbled with a satisfied noise, so you repeated his name. It became pleading, desperate, voice turning into a shaky mess that only sent his mouth into overdrive.

The ghost of a fingertip brushed along the rim of your entrance, and when you took a breath, he seized the opportunity to sink it into you, all the way to the knuckle. It curled into you, before pulling out then pumping back in. It became a dance, the way his finger fucked into you with curious ambition, and it had you pooling into a moaning mess, writhing from stimulation.

His eyes fluttered up to meet yours with his mouth still wrapped around your clit, and you nearly gushed just from the look of him alone – beads of sweat already dotting on his hairline, brows furrowed in concentration, eyes dark and sultry with intentions of ruining you. They locked on to yours and never left for a single moment, not even when he stretched you open with a second finger, then a third.

It was all so fucking much. You could barely think with him filling you, curving right into that sweet spot of serenity that had stars bursting in your vision. Your body moved on its own accord, and to keep you still, he placed a thick arm over the plains of your stomach, holding you down while keeping the other occupied in the tightness of your cunt.

Too much, so much, all at once. It had your mind in the skies, floating on clouds of euphoria.

John seemed to map out your body language just from one taste of you on his tongue along, because when your stomach began to tighten and flex, legs trembling and quivering, he pulled his mouth away from you, fucking you with his fingers with a quickened pace.

“You goin’ to come, sweetheart? Hm?” he asked, and it felt as if he was teasing you. Mocking you, filled with overwhelmed smugness. “Goin’ to come from my mouth like I told you?”

You nodded vigorously, shameless in your own desperation. The squelch of his fingers dripping into your cunt with every shallow thrust was enough to leave you breathless. They filled you with a frantic need, shooing away the emptiness you once felt and submerging you in a febrile warmth.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he praised, and it had you keening.

You attempted to lift your hips, pushing them in the direction of his mouth. He released a hearty chuckle, eyes crinkling from his bashful smile before he gave in to what you wanted, Mouth returning to your cunt, sinking into you like a feral animal, quenching his thirst and hunger.

You cried out, hand tightening in his hair. It was almost instant that you felt the coil of string ready to snap at any moment, tearing and tearing, bordering you on the edge of breaking apart.

His tongue flattened over your clit before circling his lips and giving it a hard suck, all while curling his fingers once more. That was enough to send you over the edge, your climax hitting you like a collapsing building, smothering you in its aftermath.

Your entire body shook, wetness gushing around his fingers as you clenched on them for dear life. You ground your hips subconsciously, fucking yourself on his fingers and riding out the seamless paradise and basking in the warm light. All thoughts blanked into nothing but your own ecstasy, and you selfishly drowned yourself in waves of rapture.

You were in heaven, you were one with the angels, singing godly praises with a halo over your head and a fluorescent glow that accumulated around you. This was what peace on Earth felt like, this was what it felt like to die and be reborn.

John’s voice was the gospel, embracing you with clarity and purpose, guiding you to the pearly gates to seek pursuit of happiness.

When John pulled away from you and carefully slipped his fingers out of you, he brought them up to your view, flaunting them with pride. His chin was soaked, glistening with sinful beauty, mangling itself in the hairs of his beard.

If you weren’t so high off of pleasure, you might’ve thought that John was God himself, smiling down at you from the clouds and showering you with loving conviction.

“See that, sweetheart?” he asked, referring to the sticky strings that stuck together when he parted his fingers. “That’s from me. And nobody’s goin’ to get a chance to taste you like I have. We clear on that?”

It was a silly thing for him to even state, given he had just taken you to oblivion, but you nodded anyway, going as far to even hum in dazed satisfaction when he brought his slick-covered fingers to your lips and you wiped them clean.

Jealousy was a disease, and you were the only thing that could cure John of the simmering rage that came with it. Now that he’d made it clear who you belonged to, the ugly monster returned to hibernation, and the sickening green that tainted his insides melted into worlds of color that only you could paint.

wrote this for my girly @ebodebo because i've been deprived of john and needed to write something for him asap, so i hope this met your needs (I need this man so badly it's unhealthy) <3

if you see any writing mistakes, mind you it’s 3am and i woke up to write this so no u didn’t

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