#How polls were meant to be used
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I absolutely love that Tumblr launched the ability to add polls to your posts, and, instead of trying to collect stats of what people think about a topic, tumblr has collectively decided that the best use of polls is to create a sort of joint-effort "choose your own adventure" 😆
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And now "vanilla extract" is a meme…
#Tumblr#tumblr culture#Tumblr polls#vanilla extract#Let's bake a cake#I've also seen#Boyfriend Outrunning a Tsunami#Dog Friend#Counting 1 Thru 10#Obviously#Bug Race#I love it#Keep it going peeps#These are all amazing#You're doing great#How polls were meant to be used#Collective Choose Your Own Adventure#Choose Your Own Adventure#Edge of my seat waiting to see how the story ends#LycoRogue original
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#using polls the way they were meant to be used#starting fights#😈#let's see how many of you have Good Taste#bucky barnes#marvel#polls#my poll#marveledit#mcufam
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neocities guide - why you should build your own html website
do you miss the charm of the 90s/00s web where sites had actual personality instead of the same minimalistic theme? are you feeling drained by social media and the constant corporate monopoly of your data and time? do you want to be excited about the internet again? try neocities!!
what is neocities?
neocities is a free hosting website that lets you build your own html website from scratch, with total creative control. in their own words: "we are tired of living in an online world where people are isolated from each other on boring, generic social networks that don't let us truly express ourselves. it's time we took back our personalities from these sterilized, lifeless, monetized, data mined, monitored addiction machines and let our creativity flourish again."
why should I make my own website?
web3 has been overtaken by capitalism & conformity. websites that once were meant to be fun online social spaces now exist solely to steal your data and sell you things. it sucks!! building a personal site is a great way to express yourself and take control of your online experience.
what would I even put on a website?
the best part about making your own site is that you can do literally whatever the hell you want! focus on a specific subject or make it a wild collection of all your interests. share your art! make a shrine for one of your interests! post a picture of every bird you see when you step outside! make a collection of your favorite blinkies! the world is your oyster !! here are some cool example sites to inspire you: recently updated neocities sites | it can be fun to just look through these and browse people's content! space bar | local interstellar dive bar creature feature | halloween & monsters big gulp supreme peanutbuttaz | personal site dragodiluna linwood | personal site patho grove | personal site
getting started: neocities/html guide
sound interesting? here are some guides to help you get started, especially if you aren't familiar with html/css sadgrl.online webmastery | a fantastic resource for getting started with html & web revival. also has a layout builder that you can use to start with in case starting from scratch is too intimidating web design in 4 minutes | good for learning coding basics w3schools | html tutorials templaterr | demo & html for basic web elements eggramen test pages | css page templates to get started with sadgrl background tiles | bg tiles rivendell background tiles | more free bg tiles
fun stuff to add to your site
want your site to be cool? here's some fun stuff that i've found blinkies-cafe | fantastic blinkie maker! (run by @transbro & @graphics-cafe) gificities | internet archive of 90s/00s web gifs internet bumper stickers | web bumper stickers momg | gif gallery 99 gif shop | 3d gifs 123 guestbook | add a guestbook for people to leave messages cbox | add a live chat box moon phases | track the phases of the moon gifypet | a little clickable page pet adopt a shroom | mushroom page pet tamaNOTchi | virtual pet crossword puzzle | daily crossword imood | track your mood neko | cute cat that chases your mouse pollcode | custom poll maker website hit counter | track how many visitors you have
web revival manifestos & communities
also, there's actually a pretty cool community of people out there who want to bring joy back to the web! melonland project | web project/community celebrating individual & joyful online experiences. Also has an online forum melonland intro to web revival | what is web revival? melonking manifesto | status cafe | share your current status nightfall city | online community onio.cafe | leave a message and enjoy the ambiance sadgrl internet manifesto | yesterweb internet manifesto | sadly defunct, still a great resource reclaiming online social spaces | great manifesto on cultivating your online experience
in conclusion
i want everyone to make a neocities site because it's fun af and i love seeing everyone's weird personal sites that they made outside of the control of capitalism :) say hi to me on neocities
#neocities#old web#webcore#old internet#web revival#indie web#html#website#recource#guide#can you tell that i've gotten REALLY into neocities this month!!!!!#but its so FUN i love seeing everyones weird af websites#its amazing#i love celebrating the old web#ANYWAYS MAKE A NEOCITIES HERES A GUIDE#i haven't touched html in like a decade#and i've been having a great time relearning#:)#share your sites with me!!!!!!#oh and share resources if you have them!
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➥ any option that gets 10% or more of the votes will move on to the finale round!!
which akito variant / fit do you most like to see in AUs / see AUs based on?
┆ 》 PART 1 《 ┆ 》 PART 2 《 ┆
➥ after each is finished there will be a compiled poll of the most popular options from each!
➥ variant names are taken from what i see most often in fandom / what i came up with to approximate a fandom nickname — it doesn’t have to be representative of the AU
#little confused why there are such discrepancies between how many votes each poll has#i guess maybe people were too lazy to use the links?#i tested them#or maybe they couldn’t make a decision? idk#i meant to set these to 3 days from my laptop but i forgot to so yall get extra time#akito posting#poll#poll bump
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so scarlet it was, maroon | chapter one
✧₊⁺ pairing — satoru gojou x journalist!reader
✧₊⁺ chapter summary — you get the chance to meet the infamous gojou satoru while working on your journalism project at suzuka circuit. what could you possibly want from him?
✧₊⁺ word count — 6.3k
✧₊⁺ warnings — nsfw (minors dni), age gap, alcohol use, mature themes, mentions of cheating, substance abuse, themes of marriage and divorce
✧₊⁺ notes — hello everyone! i asked you awhile ago on a poll which series you would like to see after cursed seas and f1 gojo won the poll and then i posted the masterlist and everyone wants it so you get it now. so here it is. and NO its not happy NEVER expect happiness from me because im allergic to it. also the reader being nosy af is inspired by me and my parents telling me i should be a journalist with how nosy i am.
series masterlist // pinterest moodboard // general masterlist
next chap. the husband and his wife
You moved to Tokyo with your family when you were younger.
You grew up in a rural part of the country, surrounded by farmers and people either ready to retire or nearing the end of their lives. Your parents hated living there, and so did you—for one, there were hardly any kids to play with, and two, as your father would say, "too many old fuckers lying around."
When you moved to Tokyo, your family decided to celebrate by taking you to a Formula 1 race. Your dad thought it would be perfect for the two of you since fixing up old cars had always been your daddy-daughter activity.
You didn’t like the idea of racing at first—the noise was too loud, and the idea of people speeding toward a black-and-white checkered line seemed ridiculous. But the moment you heard the roar of the engines and watched the lights go from red to green, you were captivated, a fascination that would stay with you for years.
When you got your first computer, you began looking up videos of F1 drivers. One day, you stumbled across a video titled “The Biggest F1 Scandals in History,” and that was when you decided you wanted to go into journalism.
You were nosy, to say the least. So, it was no surprise to your parents when you announced to them that you wanted to pursue journalism as a career. Your father reminded you how you’d always been curious, listening in on others’ conversations and keeping up with the latest school drama.
When you applied for journalism school, you were accepted into one of the top programs in the world—Sophia University. Your parents were proud that you’d made it into such a highly ranked school for journalism in Japan.
You were now in your fourth and final year at Sophia, and enjoying your journalism class. Recently, your professor assigned a project: write a story about a major pop culture figure of your choice, and for extra credit, get an interview with them. Your professor knew it was damn near impossible, but he was always optimistic that one day, someone would get that interview and he could retire in peace.
That project led you here: Suzuka Circuit, Japan's main Formula 1 track. Your chosen figure was none other than Gojou Satoru—F1's biggest driver in recent years. He was your father's favorite among the new-generation drivers, known for his string of controversies since he started on top of the persistent rumors of his heavy drug use before races.
You had managed to snag a media passs from your professor when you mentioned doing an F1 driver for your project. He was able to pull some strings to get you into the media booth, getting you a closer look at Gojou Satoru in person.
You watched the pre-race preparations closely from the media booth, your fingers hovered above your notepad as you waited for the race to start. You were determined to get a good grade on this project, and that meant adding every single detail to your report about this race.
It was about time for the drivers to gather in their garages, each wearing headsets and ready for the pre-race briefing. The briefing typically covers the race start, various pit stop scenarios, and a detailed weather report. Before each race weekend, they usually spend time in a simulator of the track they'll be racing on, preparing them for the upcoming race.
After about thirty-minutes the racers came out of their garages in their respective cars. They each line up based on the results of a quaifying session that takes place before the race, slowest qualifier in the back, fastest in the front. Gojou Satoru was at the front of the grid, which meant he was one of the qualifiers who had the fastest time.
You waited around for a little while longer turning your attention to what was happening around you. Eventually, you made your way back to the front of the media booth as the race started, ready to report.
The engines revved as each driver began preparing for the start of the race, each car vibrating on the starting grid like a beast straining at its chains. Gojou sat at the front of the lineup, his hands loose on the wheel, fingers tapping in a steady rhythm as he waited for the lights to turn green.
The roar from the grandstands faded, becoming a blur of sound as the lights ticked down: red, red, red, red… green.
He slammed the throttle, feeling the raw force of the car’s engine kick him back into his seat as he tore down the straight. Other cars jostled for position behind him, all fighting to claim the inside line into the first turn.
Through his earpiece, he heard the voice of his race engineer, Shokou, calm as ever. “Clear on turn two, you’ve got five-tenths on Hayashi. Stay tight.”
But Gojou barley heard her. The car was an extension of him, responding to his every thought, every split-second decision. He pushed down the straights, his right foot heavy on the accelerator, taking corners at speeds most drivers wouldn’t dare attempt. The sound of his tires skidding against the asphalt, the blur of the track side barriers, the lights of Tokyo reflecting off his mirrors—it all blended into a single, perfect rush.
Gojou could see the next turn ahead, a tight chicane that could send the best drivers into the barriers if they weren't careful. He braked hard, turning the wheel with perfect precision to angle the car through. He could feel the back end wobbling, but he didn't flinch, drifting perfectly as he swung back onto the racing line, gaining another second on the pack.
He could almost hear the collective gasp of the crowd in his head as he slipped through the chicane. This was his playground. Every race was a chance to remind the world why he was the best.
“Coming up on a DRS zone,” Shoko’s voice crackled in his ear, grounding him, though he was already on it
He waited for the perfect moment, watching the rear-view mirror to see the faint outline of Hayashi's car. He pressed the DRS, and his car shot forward, the drag reduction giving him a temporary speed boost that had him pulling away, putting him in the lead.
The track opened up ahead, the second sector full of wide, sweeping turns. Here was where raw speed mattered more than anything. Gojou pressed down hard on the accelerator, the engine roaring in response. He leaned forward, watching the track fly by, the white lines blurring as he focused entirely on the road ahead.
For a second, the sound in his earpiece went dead, the faint sound of static filling his ears. Then Shokou was back. “You’ve got Yoshida closing in on your tail. He’s pushing hard.”
Gojou glanced up at the mirrors, his eyes catching the bright blue and orange of Yoshida's car looming larger. The familiar thrill sparked in him. So, Yoshida thought he had a chance, did he? Well, he’d show him otherwise.
“Copy,” he muttered into his mic, eyes narrowing as he took the next corner, barley touching the brakes. He felt the tires skid but he managed to control the drift, knowing any slip would open the door for Yoshida to slip past.
He whipped into another straight, his hands steady on the wheel as he hit a top speed.
His foot didn’t so much as twitch as the engine’s roar morphed into a high-pitched scream as the car closed the distance.
The curve ahead was brutal—a tight 90-degree bend that demanded precise timing.
In a split-second decision, he did something no one expected. He braked late, his heart pounding as he cut the turn at a speed that sent the back end skidding. The tires gripped just in time, allowing him to pull out of the corner without losing traction. He could almost feel the shock reverberating as he regained control, his lead still intact.
As the laps wore on, his body moved on instinct, every gear shift, every turn becoming a single, fluid motion. One lap. Two. Three, with two pit stops between. He counted them off one by one, his mind buzzing with the pure rush of speed and the heat inside the car, barely noticing the time passing. The crowd faded into nothing, the world shrinking down to the track and his car.
The final lap. This was it.
“Box this lap if you’re in trouble,” Shokou’s voice crackled again. “Tire degradation is high.”
But Gojou’s grip on the steering wheel only tightened. His front tires were holding out—barely. It would be tight, but he could make it. He’d run this last lap on sheer determination alone if he had to.
“Negative, Shokou. I’m taking it,” he replied, and then turned off the earpiece, tuning out everything except the track and the car in front of him.
He launched into the final lap, throwing caution to the wind. Yoshida was right on his tail now, close enough that he could see the gleam of his headlights in the mirrors. But Gojou didn’t back down. He took each turn aggressively, blocking Yoshida's attempts to pass, forcing him to fall back every time.
The last chicane loomed ahead, his final obstacle before the finish line. He tightened his grip, the wheel trembling under his hands. He took the chicane fast, too fast, almost feeling the wheels lift off the ground as he flew out of the turn. The car rocked, but he held steady, pushing the pedal to the floor.
The finish line was in sight, a faint white line at the end of the straight, and with one last push, he crossed it, the checkered flag waving in his periphery as he tore past.
It was only after he’d crossed over the line that the realization hit him—he’d won.
The cheers erupted in the stands, the roar of the crowd filling his ears as he slowed down, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He could hear Shoko’s voice crackling back in as she shouted, “You pulled it off, you insane bastard.”
Gojou grinned, leaning back in his seat, still buzzing. He’d done it again, just as he always did.
The moment he climbed out of the cockpit, Gojou was surrounded by his team. Shokou was the first to reach him, her usually composed face split by a wide grin. She grabbed his helmet and thumped him on the shoulder hard enough so he actually felt it though the layers of his suit.
“You reckless son of a—”
“Language, Shokou,” Gojou interrupted, grinning as he yanked off his gloves, waving to the rest of the Tokyo Jujutsu Racing team that swarmed him.
“Do you know what it’s like to watch you pull stunts like that? I’m gonna need a raise after today’s heart attack,” she muttered.
“Oh, come on, Shokou. That was just a little fun.” He stretched his arms over his head. “Where’s my confetti?”
“Coming right up, your royal highness." Someone handed him a bottle of champagne, still cold and slick, and he twisted the cap, spraying a wild arc of foam that showered his team and nearby fans.
His PR manager, Nanami, clapped him on the back. “You’re insufferable."
“That’s what I’m here for,” he said, lifting the champagne bottle in a mock toast, flashing him a grin. The media’s cameras clicked and flashed, capturing every moment as his crew continued their congratulations.
The crowd pressed close against the barriers, shouting his name, waving homemade banners with scribbled slogans and his number embellished with the colors red and black. He walked closer, one arm raised, acknowledging the fans, letting their cheers fill him up, louder and louder with every step.
But as he continued walking, his gaze caught on something—or rather, someone—just beyond the crowd.
At first it was just a hint curiosity, the way your gaze was fixed on him. A bit removed from the chaos, you leaned against one of the barriers with a media pass hanging around your neck, arms folded as you watched from a distance.
Gojou slightly narrowed his eyes, holding your gaze longer than he'd held any fan's tonight, as if he was daring you to look away first.
“What the hell is that about?” he muttered under his breath, gaze moving back to Shokou for half a second.
“Hm?” Shokou followed his gaze, but her eyes slid right past you, uninterested. “Press. You’ll get used to it. Come on, they’re all waiting.”
He forced himself to break the stare, clearing his throat as Shokou ushered him toward the media pen, where a lineup of journalists waited, all armed with recorders, microphones, and notebooks.
He fielded the usual questions—how did it feel to win, what was his mindset, what was he thinking on that last turn? His answers were always the same practiced ones, words sliding out like clockwork.
“Well, Mr. Gojou, what would you say to those who believe your racing style is a little… aggressive?” one journalist asked, a little smirk on her face as if she thought she was catching him off guard.
He snorted. “They can call it what they want. I call it winning.” He shrugged. “I don’t come out here to play it safe.”
A few reporters laughed at his remark, clearly interested in what else he had to say as a fresh wave of questions started.
Somewhere behind the flashing lights, he saw you again, lingering a few feet behind the crowd of reporters with that calm gaze fixed on him. You didn’t raise a recorder or a camera, didn’t even make an effort to push closer for a question. You just… watched.
It was disconcerting.
“Gojou!” Another journalist waved a microphone his face, snapping his attention back to the current situation. “What’s the next step for you this season?”
He forced a smile, eyes briefly looking back to you before he focused on the question. “The same as always,” he said. “Push harder, get faster, and give everyone something to talk about.”
The crowd laughed again, though, he barely heard them, too focused on the strange woman staring right into his soul. The two of you locked eyes and you have him a small nod, as if acknowledging that you were in fact staring into his soul.
“Well, I think that’s enough,” Shokou said suddenly at his elbow, pulling him out of his thoughts. “They’ll have plenty of time to hound you later.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he murmured, though he let her guide him away. Still, he couldn’t help glancing back over his shoulder, hoping to catch one last glimpse of you.
But you were already gone.
Gojou slipped away from the crowd, weaving through the bustling garage and dodging the congratulatory slaps on his back, the endless rounds of handshakes, and the celebratory shouts. He ducked past a few journalists, ignoring the barrage of questions still hurled his way, his smile slipping as he finally found the door to the bathroom.
Inside, the cool, sterile silence was jarring compared to the noise outside, but he let out a sigh of relief, his heart hammering in his chest. He clicked the lock and leaned against the sink, running his hands over his face, staring at his own reflection in the mirror.
The victory high had worn off, leaving behind a familiar pressure he could not cope with. It settled on his shoulders like an old, unwelcome friend.
He hadn't realized how much tension he was carrying in his shoulders, how deeply it would itself into him when he was alone. The race had been perfect, his win flawless, but he could feel the exhaustion radiating off of him, a pulsing throb being his eyes. He clenched his jaw, glaring at himself in the mirror.
“Pull yourself together,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.
But his words fell flat, swallowed up by the silence. In the mirror, his own eyes stared back at him, tired, almost hollow.
He reached into the pocket of his racing suit, fingers brushing over the small, familiar packet hidden in the inner lining. It was a stupid habit, a reckless one really, but it was one he hadn't been able to shake, no matter how many times he tried to quit. He could practically feel the temporary relief in the palm of his hand.
He closed his eyes, running his thumb along the edge of the packet before pulling it out, setting it on the counter next to the sink. He ripped it open tapping a small line onto the smooth counter top. It was like his fingers had a mind of their own, as if it was part of his routine of suiting up or gripping the wheel.
The powder glinted under the bathroom’s harsh fluorescent lights, almost mocking him with its simplicity. Just a quick escape, just enough to take the edge off. That’s all he needed.
He leaned down, closing one nostril and inhaling sharply, feeling the sting as the powder hit his nose. He straightened his back, blinking hard, the world around him sharpening as his mind cleared. A small, humorless smile tugged at his lips.
He leaned back against the sink, tilting his head up to stare at the ceiling, feeling his heartbeat slow, the tension in his muscles fading away.
But it didn’t take long for the guilt to creep back in, that hollow feeling settling in his chest, a reminder that this wasn't the answer. He knew it. He knew exactly what he was doing to himself, how he was destroying his body from the inside out, how it could all come crashing down. And yet… here he was.
“Fucking pathetic,” he muttered to himself, his voice echoing against the tiles.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, jolting him back to reality.
“Gojou? You in there?” It was Shokou. “They’re waiting for you out here.”
He stuffed the empty packet back into his pocket, brushed the last of the substance off of the sink, and glanced in the mirror one last time to check his reflection, making sure there was no trace left of his momentary escape.
Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders, forced a smirk, and unlocked the door.
Shokou was standing there, arms crossed, her gaze scrutinizing as he stepped out. She didn’t say anything, but her judgmental eye lingered over him for a split second too long.
“You good?”
“Never better."
“Right,” she said, clearly unconvinced, but she dropped it, gesturing for him to follow her.
As the celebrations continued, Gojou weaved his way through fans and team-members alike who were still wrapped up in their post-race celebrations. He scanned the crowd, hoping to find the strange woman from earlier who he noticed had a press pass, thinking you would be here.
And then he saw you, leaning against a stack of crates near the garages, observing the current scene with the same judgmental eyes that Shokou had. The media badge hung from your neck, swaying slightly as you shifted your weight, pulling out a notebook and flipping through it, seemingly absorbed in what you were currently doing.
He cleared his throat as he approached, the echo of his footsteps giving his presence away.
You looked up, your brow raised as he came closer, a hint of intrigue flashing in your eyes.
“Looking for something?” you asked, not moving as he stopped in front of you.
“You could say that,” he replied, slipping his hands into his pockets, his gaze darted to the notebook in your hands. “I couldn’t help but notice you earlier, off in the shadows. Didn’t feel like joining the crowd?”
“Not my style.” You shrugged. “I’m not here to cheer. I’m here to report.”
“Journalist, huh?” he drawled, tilting his head. “What’s your angle?”
“The truth,” you said, a little smile pulling at your lips as you studied him. “Not everyone’s a fan of that, I know.”
“Depends on what you call the truth. But I’ve got a feeling you’ve already got your version.”
"How perceptive. I’m doing a piece on your racing career, your achievements, but… the public wants a fuller picture, don’t you think?
“Not sure I follow. Everyone knows what they need to know.”
“Not quite,” you replied, flipping through your notebook. “There’s more than just racing stats when it comes to Gojou Satoru, isn’t there?”
“Care to elaborate?”
“People say you’re… unraveling. Your recent ‘questionable decisions’ are starting to paint a different picture, don’t you think?” you said, tapping your pen against your notebook. “The accidents, the fines, the constant change in pit crews—”
“Is this some kind of witch hunt?” he interrupted. “Because I’d hate to disappoint you, princess, but I’ve heard it all.”
“Maybe so.” You leaned in a bit, meeting his stare. “But what about the whispers that aren’t out yet? The suspicions about you cheating the drug tests, your team shielding you—” You paused. “There’s a lot of money on your success, Mr. Gojou.”
“Money and racing have always gone hand-in-hand, don’t you think? You’d have a hard time finding someone out here who hasn’t bent a rule or two.”
“True enough.” You titled your head slightly. “But even the most golden careers have a way of losing their shine.”
"Tell me—do you enjoy tearing people down for a living?”
“Only if it’s warranted,” you replied unfazed. “People aren’t interested in perfect stories. They want the flaws, the dirt. It makes it all more real. At least that's what my professor believes."
“You’ve got a wicked mind, I’ll give you that. But I hope you realize you’re not the first to come sniffing around for the ‘real story’.”
A pregnant pause settles between you before you asked, “And what about her?”
A beat passed before he answered. “Who?”
“Your wife. She’s been… noticeably absent from the press circuits. And rumor has it things aren’t exactly picture-perfect between you two.”
“Rumor has it,” he repeated. “Guess you know how it is in this business. There’s always some rumor or another.”
“So it’s just a rumor, then? All the time apart, the missed events, her name suddenly missing from every headline. You’re saying there’s nothing to it?”
“People are eager to make stories out of nothing. My private life is just that—private.”
“That’s interesting,” you murmured, not looking away. “Because the most recent stories about you and her—they’re awfully detailed. People are noticing, wondering why she’s suddenly… disappeared from the scene.”
“Let them wonder. Like I said, people will talk. And it seems like you’re more interested in gossip than journalism.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Journalism is about uncovering the truth,” you countered. “But it seems like you’re more comfortable brushing things under the rug than addressing them.”
His smile returned, his carefully crafted facade sliding back into place as he straightened up, glancing away from you, clearly bored of the conversation. "Maybe someday you'll get the truth you're so desperate for, but it's not going to be today."
Before he walked away completely, he gave you one last look, his tone playful but laced with a hint of warning. “Be careful what you dig up, princess. Sometimes the truth’s more trouble than it’s worth.”
And with that, he turned his back to you, disappearing into the crowd.
Gojou returned home after the long night of celebrations had died down, the adrenaline from the race long gone, now replaced by a gnawing emptiness that felt like it might hollow him out. His penthouse was in the hear of Tokyo—a sleek, modern apartment with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the neon-drenched skyline.
As he opened the door, the soft him of the city below was drowned out by the sound of footsteps, His wife, Hana, appeared from the hallway, her arms crossed tightly across her chest, her eyes narrowed. She was dressed in a sleek black outfit, her dark hair pulled back, a looking a frustration etched onto her face.
“You’re late."
“Didn’t realize I was on a curfew,” he replied, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto a nearby chair.
“Don’t act like that.” Her eyes flashed as she followed him into the living room. “You missed the dinner with my parents again. They’ve been asking about you, wondering why you’re never around.”
“Hana, I just won a race,” he replied, exasperated. “Sorry if I wasn’t in the mood to play the doting son-in-law tonight.”
She scoffed, crossing her arms tighter. “Of course, it’s always about the race with you. Everything is about that damn career, isn’t it?”
“You knew what you were signing up for when you married me.”
“Maybe I didn’t know it would mean you disappearing for days, weeks sometimes, chasing whatever thrill you think you need to feel alive.”
“What’s your point, Hana? We’ve had this argument a hundred times.”
“The point is, Satoru,” she said, voice trembling with anger, “that you seem to care more about everything else than this marriage. I’m just a fixture in your life, something you come back to whenever you need to check a box or show face. But you’re never really here.”
He let out a harsh laugh, the bitter sound filling the apartment. "Here we go again. Hana, it’s not like you’ve been some shining example of commitment either. You’ve known what this is for months.”
“What this is?” Her voice rose, cracking slightly as she repeated his words. “What exactly is ‘this,’ Satoru? A sham? A partnership for appearances? I thought you loved me…"
“I can’t keep doing this,” she continued softly, her voice breaking. “The lying, the pretending. It’s exhausting.”
“So what do you want me to say, Hana? That I’m some perfect husband?” He gestured to himself, shaking his head with a smirk that looked almost pained. “We’re both guilty here. Let’s not act like this hasn’t been a slow-motion train wreck.”
“Fine. But do me a favor—at least act like you care when people ask. Because every time I hear some story about you, another scandal or rumor, it’s like a slap in the face. My family, my friends—everyone’s talking. They see the headlines too.”
“Fine. But do me a favor—at least act like you care when people ask. Because every time I hear some story about you, another scandal or rumor, it’s like a slap in the face. My family, my friends—everyone’s talking. They see the headlines too.”
“What do you want from me, Hana?” he asked quietly, the fight suddenly draining out of him. “You want me to pretend I’m someone I’m not?”
“I want… I wanted the man I married. The one who cared, who had dreams."
“Then maybe,” he said finally, his voice almost a whisper, “it’s time to stop pretending.”
As Gojou stood there running a hand through his hair. Hana paused, her expression shifting from something resigned to something wounded.
“And there’s one more thing."
He looked at her, brow furrowing. “Fucking Christ Hana, what now?”
“Do you think I’m stupid, Satoru?” she asked, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “I know what’s out there. The rumors. The whispers about who you’re with when you’re not here. Or maybe you think I don’t hear them.”
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Hana, they’re just rumors. You know how the press is—they’ll twist anything for a story.”
“Twist what, exactly? Why do they have something to twist in the first place?”
“They don’t have anything. It’s just the media looking for something to make people read. Speculation sells.”
“Right. Speculation. But funny how it’s always about you, always linked to another woman.”
“That’s because I’m under a microscope. People love to create scandals, especially with someone like me. And you know that better than anyone.”
“It’s not just them, Satoru. People talk, and it’s not just baseless gossip. I’m not naive. I hear things from people close to you, people who actually know you.”
“You really believe them? You think I’m out there, risking everything for some—” He stopped himself, biting his tongue.
“Do I? I don’t even know my own husband anymore. Maybe I should ask them. Or maybe I should ask you directly, Satoru. Are you seeing someone?”
“Why are we even doing this?”
“Because I want the truth. Just once. I deserve that much, don’t I?”
“Believe what you want, Hana. I don’t have anything else to say.”
“Then maybe that’s all I need to know.”
Gojou stormed out of his apartment, his hands clenching and unclenching as he tried to shake off his frustration. He'd had enough for one night. His heart was pounding and the last thing he wanted was to be alone with his thoughts. He needed to get out, to drown the anger with something that could at least help him forget.
The bar he found was tucked away down a dim side street in Shibuya. It wasn't anything fancy–a dark cry from the glitzy nightlife he was used to–but it was dark and quiet which was exactly what he needed. He slid onto a bar stool and motioned for a drink, not bothering to pay attention to what the bartender poured.
He sipped his drink in silence, trying to tune out the night and all the noise in his head. The alcohol burned down his throat, but it was a welcome distraction that numbed his anger and frustration. He was almost on his third drink when he noticed someone sitting in the corner of the room, hunched over a notebook, tapping her pen against her cheek in thought.
She's cute, he thought to himself. He squinted trying to get a better look at the young woman, and he immediately recognized, it was you.
Of all the places he'd expect to see you, this shitty bar wasn't one of them. You looked so absorbed in your work, like you were piecing together something for a story. Satoru's curiosity got the better of him, and he stood up carrying his drink as he made his way over to where you were sitting.
"Well, well," he said, leaning against the back of the chair across from you. “Didn’t peg you for a bar rat, but maybe I was wrong.”
Your head snapped up, and your eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Gojou Satoru. What a surprise.”
“Mind if I sit?” he asked, already taking the seat.
“Didn’t think someone like you would end up in a place like this. Celebrating?”
He gave a dry laugh, swirling the glass in his hand. “Something like that.”
“So, what are you doing here, really? Figured you’d be at a fancy cafe, writing about some important news story.”
“Maybe I am. Research is research, even if it’s in a bar. Maybe it’s you I’m writing about.”
“So I’m your new project, huh?”
“Maybe. It’s part of this little journalism course I’m doing. We’re supposed to pick a public figure and write a profile. Someone who’s got a… colorful public image.”
“Colorful, huh?” He smirked. “Guess I’m your lucky target. Hope I make an interesting subject."
“Interesting is one word for it,” you replied, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. “What’s got you so quiet tonight? I thought you’d be surrounded by fans somewhere.”
He shrugged, taking a long sip of his drink. “Not in the mood for fans tonight.”
“Tough race?”
He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head. “Not the race. Just… life, I guess.”
“So,” he said, leaning in. “tell me about this little journalism course. You planning to make a career out of stalking poor drivers like me?”
“It’s a bit more complicated than that. We’re learning how to ‘uncover the truth’—or at least, that’s what they say. So far, it’s been a lot of digging through archives and learning to ask the right questions.”
“Right questions, huh?” He arched an eyebrow. “Let’s hear one. What would you ask me, if I were your ‘colorful public figure’?”
“Alright, Gojou. How does someone at the top of their game manage to keep it all together? All the races, the publicity, the pressure… don’t you ever feel like it’s too much?”
“Honestly?” He ran a hand through his hair, glancing away. “Sometimes, yeah. It’s not as easy as it looks, being the guy everyone thinks has it all together. But people don’t care about that part. They just want the show.”
“So you put on the show.”
“Guess that’s what it comes down to.” He laughed, but it sounded hollow even to his own ears. “People don’t want to see a guy crack under pressure. They want the image.”
“But what do you want?”
No one ever asked him that, as if what he wanted didn’t matter.
“What do I want?” he repeated, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as he tried to dodge the question. “Maybe another drink.”
I’m serious. Behind all of that… what’s left?”
“Honestly? Sometimes I don’t even know anymore. It’s like I’ve been going so fast for so long, I can’t remember what it was I was chasing in the first place.”
“Maybe that’s what you need to figure out, then.”
He looked at you, and the faintest trace of a genuine smile broke through. “Maybe.”
The two of you sat in silence, and he found himself grateful for it. You didn't press or pry at him and he thought that he could just be himself, even if it was just for a little while.
“Alright,” he said finally, nudging your notebook with his finger. “So, future journalist, you really gonna write all this down? Make me sound like some tortured artist?”
You smirked. “I’ll try to be kind. Maybe I’ll even leave out the part where you go to bars alone and pretend to be mysterious.”
“Ouch,” he chuckled, holding up his drink in mock surrender. “Noted. But I expect a copy when it’s published. Autographed, obviously.”
“Obviously,” you replied, laughing as you clinked your glass against his. “But don’t expect it to be flattering.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
As the conversation continued, Gojou found himself leaning in closer. You both let the drinks keep coming, though it was less about how much alcohol you were consuming and more about the way the words spilled more easily between you two.
“So,” you asked, taking another sip of your drink, “what’s it actually like out there? Everyone sees the fame, the money, the cars, but… what’s it really like?”
He exhaled, tapping his fingers on the edge of his glass. “Honestly? It’s… intense. There’s this high to it, this adrenaline. Nothing like it. You’re pushing yourself and everyone around you to the edge," he tilted his head. “But sometimes, it feels like the line between winning and crashing out isn’t as thick as people think. You cross it once, and that’s it—you’re done.”
“Doesn’t that scare you?”
“A little. But I’m more afraid of what happens if I stop. It’s like… I don’t know what I’d be without it. Guess that sounds stupid.”
“No, it doesn’t. I get it. When something’s all you know… giving it up is like giving up a part of yourself. Scary as hell.”
“Exactly. Guess we all have our addictions, huh?”
Shit. Did he say too much?
You didn’t push, just gave him a quiet nod. “So, what’s Tokyo Jujutsu like? It's one of the toughest team on the grid, right?”
“You know it. They’re tough as hell, no room for error. And they sure as hell won’t give you a second chance if you mess up.”
“Sounds brutal."
“Yeah, maybe. I guess I like the challenge. Or maybe I just like proving people wrong.”
“Enough about me," he continued. What about you? What’s the deal with this journalism project? Are you trying to make a name for yourself by exposing all my secrets?”
You laughed, shaking your head. “Believe it or not, my goal in life isn’t to ruin yours. I actually think it’s fascinating, learning what drives people, what keeps them going, even when things get messy.”
“Messy? What makes you think my life is messy?”
“Oh, please. Gojou Satoru’s life is one headline after another. You’re practically the poster boy for drama.”
He feigned a hurt expression, placing a hand over his heart. “You wound me. I’m just a guy trying to make a living, you know?”
“Right,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Just a guy who happens to have a dozen scandals and an equal number of speeding tickets.”
“Hey,” he laughed, leaning back in his chair. “I’m a professional, okay? That’s all part of the job.”
The two of you continued to chat into the night. Gojou found himself relaxing, caught up in the rare comfort of talking with someone who didn’t expect him to play a part. He could just… be.
At some point, the bartender announced last call, and Gojou glanced at you, smirking. “Guess that’s our cue.”
You stretched, gathering your notebook and tucking it under your arm. “Thanks for the, uh, ‘research material.’ It was… enlightening.”
He laughed, standing and grabbing his coat. “Anytime. But don’t go making me look like a complete asshole in your little project, alright?”
“No promises."
Outside, the air was crisp as he faint hum of city traffic the only sound as you stood together on the quiet street. Gojou slid his hands into his pockets, looking at you.
Outside, the air was crisp as the faint him of the city being the only sound as you stood together on the quiet street. Gojou slide his hands into his pockets, looking at you.
“Maybe we’ll run into each other again."
“Only if you’re brave enough to handle more questions.”
“Oh, I’m plenty brave. But we’ll see if you’re as good at digging as you think.”
You rolled your eyes, laughing as you turned to leave, throwing him a casual wave. “Goodnight, Mr. Gojou.”
“Goodnight,” he echoed, watching as you disappeared down the empty street.
In that moment he realized, he never did catch your name.
© satorulovebot 2024 please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my work.
#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x y/n#gojou satoru x y/n#gojou satoru#gojou satoru x reader#gojo saturo#satoru gojo#jujustsu kaisen x reader#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo angst#jujutsu kaisen au#gojo fanfic#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jjk x you
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Not the same anymore
Summary: After ending his three-year-long relationship due to his friend’s influence, Lando tries everything to get his lover back.
Note: I’m back!!! The winner of the poll I set up was loud and clear! I hope all of you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! P.s buckle up this one is a long one!
Reader x Lando Norris
Genre: fluff/angst
I had been dating Lando for three years, and our relationship was everything I could have ever hoped for. We met at an event, our eyes locking from across the room. He was so handsome, his smile blinding, and I knew right then that I had to talk to him. Except I was too shy to approach him. At that moment it felt like the universe heard me and made Lando approach me. We talked all evening long and we hit it off instantly.
From that moment on, we were practically inseparable. We spent hours talking and getting to know each other, our bond growing stronger with every conversation. I still remembered vividly how he had made me laugh until my sides hurt, how he listened with genuine interest to every word I said.
I remembered the excitement and anticipation when he asked me out, the butterflies in my stomach when he first held my hand. It felt like a fairy-tale come true, and I knew from that moment on that he was the one for me. We shared so many moments of joy, of happiness, and even the occasional disagreement, but we always worked through them together.
At first, I tried not to worry, thinking it was just a phase, but the changes in him only became more pronounced. He was less responsive to my texts and calls, and he seemed to prioritize spending time with his friends over me. I felt lonely and confused, unsure of what had caused this sudden shift.
Lando invited me to his place, and I was excited. I thought he was doing just the same, planning to spend some quality time together.
However, as soon as we found ourselves alone, Lando's face was serious, and my heart started to pound. I knew something terrible was about to happen.
Lando sat down next to me, his gaze fixed on the floor. There was a long, heavy silence before he finally spoke.
"We need to talk," he said, his voice almost a whisper.My heart dropped. Those words... they were never good.
I sat there, feeling the dread settling in my stomach. I knew whatever was about to come couldn't be good. Lando took a deep breath, but his face remained serious.
"I think... we need to break up."
I felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room. Break up? The words hung heavy in the air, and my mind struggled to process them.
"W...what?" I managed to choke out, my voice shaking slightly. "Why, Lando?"
He avoided my gaze, his fingers fidgeting nervously. "It's just... I need to focus on my career right now," he said, his voice robotic, like he was reciting lines. "Being in a relationship is a distraction, and I can't let it interfere with my goals."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. He was throwing away our three years together with such ease, as if it meant nothing. I tried to reason with him, to remind him of all the happy memories we had shared.
"We've been together for three years!" I said, my voice rising in volume. "Why is it suddenly a problem now?"
"I need to be 100% focused," Lando insisted, finally meeting my eyes. "It's not just about the amount of time, y/n. It's about the current moment, and right now, my career is my priority." He sounded almost cold, like he was pushing me away.
I felt tears welling up in my eyes, but I fought them back. How could I mean so little to him, that he would discard our relationship so easily?
"What about us, Lando? What about everything we've been through together?" I pleaded, my voice shaky.
He remained stoic, his expression unchanging. "I'm sorry, y/n," he said, his tone lacking emotion. "But my mind is made up."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It felt as though he was a stranger, a shell of the man I had fallen in love with. “You don’t mean any of it! You’re just stressed.”
Lando seemed to snap. "My friends were right," he said, his tone sharp. "This is for the best. Now, I don't need the distraction of a relationship, and I'm better off without you."
His words felt like a stab in the heart, and I couldn't hold back the tears any longer. I wanted to defend myself, to challenge him, but his friends were the last thing I wanted to bring up.
But I couldn't help it. "Your friends?" I shot back. "They're the worst! All they care about is partying, drinking, and living off your money.”
Lando's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing. "Don't you dare talk about my friends like that," he snapped, his tone filled with resentment. "They're the ones who are always there to support me, unlike some people."
I couldn't hold back anymore, the emotions boiling over. "Unlike some people? Are you kidding me?" I retorted, my voice cracking. "Who was there for you when you were doubting yourself? Who stayed up late with you, listening to your worries, pushing you to keep going? Wasn't it me?"
He looked stung, but he shook his head, trying to uphold his cold facade. "That's not how things work," he said stiffly. "My career is my top priority, and I don't have time for anything else."
I felt my own anger rising to match his. "So, you're telling me three years of love, support, and understanding mean nothing to you? Just throw it all away for the sake of your career?"
Lando stood up, his face tense. "The decision is made. I don't need a distraction right now, and that's what you are. A distraction." His words felt like a slap in the face.
My heart shattered, each word breaking another piece of it. How could he turn our love into nothing more than a mere bother? How could he talk to me like this? But I couldn't let myself break down fully. Not here, not in front of him. I clenched my fists, trying to hold back tears and keep my composure.
"Fine," I said, my voice cold. "If I'm just a distraction, then go ahead. Focus on your oh-so-important career." I crossed my arms, trying to hide how much his words had hurt me.
"And you know what, Lando?" I continued, my voice rising. "Your friends? They're all using you. They're not true friends; they're just there 'cause you're famous and rich."
Lando's face twisted in anger at my words. "How dare you talk about my friends like that?" he sneered, his tone spiteful. "They're the ones who have supported me through everything. They're true friends, unlike you. Maybe that's why I'm better off without you."
My eyes narrowed. He had crossed a line. How dare he? "At least I never used you. I loved you for you, not for your fame or your money," I shot back.
He laughed, a humorless, bitter laugh. "Love? Please. You only liked being with a famous guy. The attention it brought you, the luxury. Let's not pretend this wasn't also about status for you."
I felt my fist clenching so hard it hurt. "You know that's not true," I said through gritted teeth. "I never cared about your fame or money. I loved who you were, or at least who I thought you were."
"Oh, really?" Lando challenged, his tone sharp. "Then why didn't you ever say no to the fancy parties or designer clothes I bought you? Don't pretend you didn't enjoy it."
I felt like my chest was tightening with every one of his accusations. How could he twist things like that, making it seem like I only cared about his money? It was so far from the truth. The minute those words left his mouth I knew it was his friends feeding him these lies about me.
"Those were gifts, Lando," I said, my voice cracking. "I loved them because they came from you, not because they were expensive!"
I didn’t let him speak as I grabbed my bag, my hands shaking with emotion. "Fine. Just don't contact me ever again," I said, my voice cold and void of emotion. "This is over. You’re not the same anymore.”
I walked out of his place, my steps heavy and numb. I didn't look back, afraid of seeing him or breaking down in tears. I just wanted to leave, to get away from his words that echoed in my head, and the painful ache in my heart.
As I stepped outside, the fresh air felt like both a relief and a cold slap in the face. I hailed a taxi, and as I watched the familiar streets pass by, I felt as though my old, happy life had shattered into pieces. I had given him everything, and he had thrown it all away for his stupid career. I would never make that mistake again, I promised myself.
Lando sat in his place alone after she left, the silence of his now-empty home weighing heavily on him. He started thinking about the breakup, feeling a pang of guilt, but quickly pushed it aside, remembering that he had chosen his career over her. It was for the best, he told himself, repeating what his friends had been telling him.
As the hours passed, the guilt started to fade, numbed by the pain and the alcohol he poured himself. He eventually called his friends, and they eagerly agreed to come over, happy to hear he had broken up with his now ex-girlfriend.
They arrived, with smiles on their faces, their eyes glinting with anticipation. "Finally, you get to live a little without that distraction!" one of them said, slapping Lando's back. "We're gonna party hard tonight, man! You deserve it."
Lando felt himself slipping into a numbing haze, the alcohol dulling his emotions and his conscience. He allowed himself to be guided by his friends, their words like sweet poison, promising him that he was better off without me, that he wouldn't miss her. They started planning their night out at a flashy new club, their enthusiasm infectious in Lando's alcohol-doused state.
Lando found himself nodding along, his resistance fading away with each drink. The idea of partying seemed like a good escape, a way to drown out the guilt and the loneliness. He convinced himself that tonight, he would let loose and forget, throwing himself into the nightlife and the company of his so-called friends.
As the night progressed, Lando found himself increasingly affected by the alcohol he had consumed. The world started blurring at the edges, and his thoughts became a jumbled mess. He grabbed his phone, his fingers clumsy as he fumbled with the buttons. After several clumsy taps and misdialed numbers, he finally managed to dial Max's number.
As the call went through, he heard Max Fewtrell answer from the other end. "Lando? What the hell, it's 3 am, are you drunk?"
Lando let out a chuckle, his voice slurred. "Heyyy, Maxxy," he said, his words tripping over themselves. "You sound so grumpy. Come ooon, I need to talk to youeee."
Max sighed, rubbing his eyes, trying to shake the sleep from his voice. "Lando, this better be important. I was trying to sleep, you know." His tone was annoyed, but the concern was evident under the surface.
Lando ignored Max’s tone, his mind swimming with alcohol-induced impulsiveness. "I need to talk, buddy," he said, his words stumbling over each other. "It's about y/n."
Max sat up in his bed, his annoyance fading in the face of Lando's evident distress. He cleared his throat, trying to sound more awake and alert. "Okay, Lando, I'm listening," he said, his voice steady.
Lando took a deep breath, his words slurred. "Max, I messed up, I really messed up," he slurred, his voice cracking. "I broke up with y/n, and man, I feel like crap. I miss her, Max. I miss her, and it... it hurts, Max, it hurts so much." The line of words came out in a jumble, the weight of his emotions too heavy to hide under his inebriated state.
Max let out a sigh, his concern growing with Lando's admission. "Okay, Lando, listen to me. Stay exactly where you are, and for god's sake, don't go anywhere else. Tell me the name of the club, and I'll come get you."
Lando mumbled the name of the club through the phone, his words a bit muffled. "It's... uh, it's called 'The Neon Lights.' It's that new club in town, very fancy. Can't miss the neon lights," he hiccuped.
Max sighed, rubbing his temples. "Alright, Lando. I'm on my way. Just don't do anything stupid. Just stay put and wait for me." Max quickly got dressed, leaving his bed behind for the task ahead.
Max drove as fast as he could, and reached the club soon. He spotted Lando right away. His best friend was sitting outside, next to a homeless man, laughing loudly in his inebriated state.
Max couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Lando's current predicament. He approached them, giving the homeless man a nod in greeting. "Alright, Lando, let's go," Max said, reaching out to grab Lando by the arm to help him onto his feet.
Lando tried to protest, but his words came out as a muddled mess. "No, wait! I was just having a talk with him!" he argued, hiccuping. He tried to pull away from Max, but his balance was too shaky. "He's a cool guy, Max. Look!" Lando gestured at the homeless man, his movements exaggerated.
Max shook his head, trying to keep his composure. "Lando, stop making a fool of yourself. Let's go, you're coming with me." He gently led Lando away, making sure he didn’t stumble and fall.
By now, a few people from the club were giving them odd looks, amused by the sight of an apparently famous driver being a mess outside. Max just focused on guiding Lando away, thankful no one had recognized him. "Come on, buddy," he said softly, his arms holding him steady.
Lando put up minimal resistance, his limbs heavy and uncooperative. He tried to protest but his words only slurred together, making it impossible to understand. His legs felt like jelly, and he let Max guide him to his car, his head spinning from the alcohol.
Once they reached the car, Max opened the passenger door for Lando, gently guiding him into the seat. Lando slumped in with a groan, his eyes flickering. Max secured Lando's seat belt, making sure he was as safe as he could be in his current state.
As they arrived at Lando's apartment, Max helped Lando out of the car, his feet dragging sluggishly. Walking him to his bed was a challenge, as Lando leaned heavily on Max. With effort, they finally made it to the bedroom, where Lando practically flopped onto his bed, groaning as his head spun.
Max was concerned about Lando, still inebriated and vulnerable. He grabbed some medication and water, placing them on the bedside table for when Lando woke up. He covered Lando with a thin blanket, making sure he wouldn't be cold in the night. He left quietly, making a mental note to check on him in the morning, closing the door softly behind him.
Max returned to Lando's place the next morning, his concern for him still lingering. He used the spare key Lando had given him and let himself inside the apartment. There was a noticeable silence, the aftermath of Lando's excessive drinking still hung heavily in the air.
Max was in the kitchen by the time Lando trudged down, looking half dead from the night before. His hair was tousled, his eyes bloodshot, and his face pale. He groaned as he spotted Max standing by the counter, a cup of coffee and a plate of breakfast ready.
Max watched as Lando slumped into a chair, cradling his head in his hands. "What the hell were you thinking, Lando? You were drunk off your ass," Max scolded gently, his voice laced with worry.
Lando winced as he lifted his head, his eyes squint to slits. "I... I don't know. Needed a distraction," he groaned, his voice hoarse. The alcohol had taken its toll, and he felt like death warmed over.
Max sighed, pushing the cup of coffee towards Lando. "There are better ways to distract yourself than getting drunk, Lando. What if the media had found out? You could have jeopardized your entire career."
Max paused, his gaze fixed on Lando’s disheveled state. "So who were you with last night? Who was irresponsible enough to let you drink in such a state, and then leave you alone in that condition?"
Lando rubbed his temples, trying to remember through his foggy memory. "Some friends," he mumbled, avoiding Max's accusing stare.
"You know, just some guys I hang out with sometimes. They were partying, and I... I don't know, I joined in." He paused, trying to compose himself. "Then I got drunk and they... they left."
Max’s eyes narrowed, seeing right through it. "Those friends, right? Are those the ones who always use you, Lando? The ones who take advantage of your fame?" His voice was sharp and filled with frustration, knowing exactly how those 'friends' manipulated Lando.
Max’s tone was hard as he continued, his questions probing deeper. "Did they invite you or did they just drag you along with them? Because I know how they are, Lando. They always take advantage of you. They use you for your money, your fame, and never really care about you."
Lando hesitated, his eyes downcast. He knew Max had a point. "I... they invited me," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "But I went because I wanted to forget. I wanted to forget her." His voice trembled slightly, the pain he felt creeping into his voice.
Max's ears perked up at the mention of y/n. "Is that why you broke up with y/n, then?" Max's tone softened slightly, realizing this was a sore subject.
"Because you wanted to forget her? To distract yourself from the pain?" He saw Lando wince at the mention of her name, and it confirmed his suspicions.
Lando swallowed hard, the pain in his eyes speaking volumes. "I... yes," he whispered. "I thought if I ended things, it would make it easier, but it's only made it worse." His voice shook with regret, the weight of his mistake heavy on his shoulders.
Max probed further, sensing there was more to this. "Were the friends the ones who influenced you to break up with y/n, Lando?" He had a feeling they were involved, knowing their toxic nature.
Lando shifted uncomfortably, not meeting Max's gaze. "They... they encouraged it, yeah," he admitted, his voice quiet, almost ashamed.
"They kept saying she was holding me back, that a relationship would only hinder my career, and I... I let them get into my head."
Max was furious. He had seen how much y/n loved Lando, how much she supported him at every turn, and now he had thrown it all away because of some 'friends' who didn't care about him. "They're the worst, Lando!" His voice rose. "They don't care about you, not like she does. She's been there for you, through everything. And you let them poison you against her?"
Lando closed his eyes, the reality of Max's words piercing through his foggy mind. Max was right. He had let himself be manipulated by his so-called friends, allowing them to turn him against the one person who genuinely cared about him.
"I know," he whispered, his voice choked. "I messed up. I'm an idiot."
Max sighed, his frustration mingling with a sense of compassion.
"You're not an idiot, Lando. But you made a terrible mistake. You let yourself be led astray by the wrong people. Those friends, they're poison. And y/n... she's the one who truly cares for you. You need to fight for her, Lando. Don't let them ruin what you and y/n had."
Lando admitted, his voice filled with regret and defeat. "It's too late, Max. She has blocked me everywhere. She doesn't want anything to do with me." His shoulders slumped, the weight of his mistake heavy on him. "She probably hates me now, and I don't blame her. I hurt her, Max. I don't think she'll ever take me back."
Max, determined to help Lando, decided to take matters into his own hands. He texted y/n, hoping to plead on Lando's behalf, but Max was met with a cold wall - she had blocked him too. Frustration welled up inside, knowing how much of a hole Lando had dug for himself.
"Lando," he said, his tone heavy, "She blocked me too. This is going to be harder than I thought."
Lando flinched as Max confirmed y/n had blocked him too. It felt like the finality of his mistake, like the door to reconciliation was slammed shut, and he had no way to open it.
"I can't blame her," Lando muttered, his eyes downcast. "I messed up so badly. She's got every right to hate me now."
Lando's phone suddenly buzzed with a text from one of his 'friends,' inviting him out again. But before Lando could even react, Max swiped the phone from his hand, angrily blocking them all.
Lando stared at Max, a mix of shock and annoyance on his face. "Dude, what the hell!" he exclaimed, trying to get his phone back.
Max's expression was serious, his tone firm. "Those friends of yours are poison," he stated, holding the phone just out of Lando's reach. "They're the ones who encouraged you to break up with y/n. They're not your real friends, and I'm not letting them influence you further."
Lando tried to reach for his phone again, his eyes blazing with frustration. "Max, please give me my phone. You can't just block them all! Those are my friends!" He sounded desperate, trying to justify something he knew deep down was wrong.
Max stood his ground, shaking his head. "No, Lando. Those friends are the reason we're in this mess right now. They don't have your best interests at heart. They only care about what they can gain from you. You need to see that!" His grip on the phone remained firm, not giving Lando any chance to retrieve it.
Lando, still hungover and angry, tried to make his case. "But... but they're the only ones who are there for me, Max!" Lando argued, desperation lacing his voice. "They're the ones who party with me when I feel down. They're the ones who go out to clubs while y/n stays home. They're just trying to look out for me."
Max's patience wore thin, his anger boiling over. He threw the phone at Lando with a snap, the device landing on the bed next to him. "Fine!" Max sneered, his voice cold. "Figure it out on your own, Lando. Seems you'd rather listen to those so-called friends than hear the truth. See how far they take you."
Lando flinched as Max threw the phone at him, feeling a mix of guilt and stubbornness bubbling inside. Max's words rang true, a painful reminder of the fact that he was defending his toxic friends over the one person who cared. But in his hungover state, he was stubborn, unwilling to admit his friends were the ones pulling him into a toxic pit.
"Fine!" Lando retorted, his voice rising. "I don't need you trying to control my life! And I don't need y/n. I can do whatever I want with my friends!" He grabbed his phone, clutching it tightly, his anger and resentment towards Max growing.
Max stormed out, leaving Lando alone in that moment, his thoughts swirling like a storm. Lando sat in silence, surrounded by the chaos he had created, and the weight of his choices. Max's absence left him with nothing but his own thoughts and the quiet, empty apartment, the reality of his situation setting in.
Days blurred together as I drowned myself in work, my fingers flying over the keyboard, creating numbers and reports that seemed like a lifeline in this sea of heartache. The silence of my apartment was too loud, so I stayed at the office, working until exhaustion took hold.
My best friend grew worried, her concern palpable, but I couldn't bring myself to open up. Who would even want to listen to my sob story, anyway?
I couldn't even bring myself to think about our breakup, the pain still too fresh. Work was my solace, a way to stay one step ahead of the thoughts that threatened to consume me. I tried to focus on the numbers, the deadlines – anything to avoid confronting the reality of my shattered heart.
But as much as I worked, the pain lingered, refusing to fade away. Every now and then, I'd find myself staring off into space, the memories of our time together flooding back. The sound of Lando's laughter, his warm touch, it all came crashing back in waves that threatened to crush me.
Lost in my own world, the sound of my best friend's voice finally broke through the fog of my thoughts. She had been calling my name for the past five minutes, but I hadn't heard a word, too consumed by my own internal battle. I blinked a few times, trying to shake off the daze.
She stood by my cubicle, her expression a mix of worry and concern. "Y/N, are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft. "I've been trying to get your attention for a while now."
I blinked again, trying to shake off the haze and focus on her words. "Yeah, I'm fine," I lied through clenched teeth, forcing a small smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. "Just really focused on this project." I tried to sound convincing, but I couldn't meet her gaze.
My best friend gently urged, "Y/N, I'm here for you, whenever you're ready to open up. How about a girls' night out tonight? A chance to take your mind off things? You need a break."
Each word felt like a lifeline. She knew just what I needed, an opportunity to lose myself for a moment without the weight of the breakup suffocating me.
The distraction of a girls' night out sounded tempting. I'd have a chance to let go, to pretend things were fine for a while. "Okay," I softly agreed, a small hint of warmth amidst the pain. "A girls' night sounds great. Let's do it."
As the hours passed, I tried to focus on the preparations, changing into something comfortable after my long day of work. But as I stood in front of the mirror, my mind kept wandering, the memories of Lando and the happier times we shared together. I took a deep breath, locking those thoughts away at the back of my mind, and plastered on a smile.
We met at a nearby bar, the noise and laughter a stark contrast to the silence of my apartment.
My best friend tried to engage me in conversation, steering clear of any topics about relationships or exes. The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and I found myself sipping on my favorite cocktail, letting the alcohol blunt the edges of my pain for just a moment.
As the night progressed, my best friend knew something was still weighing heavily on me. She steered the conversation deeper, her eyes meeting mine in understanding. "Y/N, really, what's going on? I can see something's eating at you."
I sighed, taking another sip. The alcohol had loosened my tongue, and the pain I'd locked away started to slip out.
I hesitated for a moment, then the floodgates opened. The alcohol had loosened my tongue, and with each sip, the words poured out. "Me and Lando broke up," I said, my voice wavering. The pain I'd tried to hide finally came out in the open.
My best friend listened without interruption as I told her everything - the pain, the doubts, the sense of loss. She held my hand, her thumb running across the back of my hand in a comforting gesture, allowing me to release all the emotions I had been holding in.
The pain intensified as I allowed myself to acknowledge it again. "I still miss him," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper, "but I can't go back to him. Not after everything he put me through."
My best friend stayed silent, letting me take the lead, listening without judgment, offering reassurance with her hand, holding mine firmly.
Her words were gentle, yet comforting. "You're strong, Y/N," she said, squeezing my hands. "It hurts, and it's hard, but you'll get through this. I'm here for you every step of the way."
Her words provided solace, reminding me of my own strength, even when I felt like I was crumbling.
She was right; I had gotten through tough times before. This, too, would pass. I tried to hold onto those words, a glimmer of hope in the midst of hurt. I wiped away my tears, taking a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure.
After hours we decided to call it a night. As my best friend dropped me off at my apartment, the night's diversion ended, and the silence of my apartment fell heavily around me.
The momentary respite from the pain had come to an end, and the reality of being alone set in again. I tried to ignore the loneliness, the emptiness without Lando. Instead, I got ready for bed, trying to find solace in routine.
I reached for my phone in an attempt to distract myself from the memories that kept invading my thoughts. But as I opened it, I was met with a barrage of social media updates about Lando and me - our pictures together, speculation, and the truth I had been trying to escape. The pain hit me all over again as I saw others asking about our breakup, theories swirling around me.
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f1gossippoffical Trouble in Paradise? Fans have suspected that Formula One driver Lando Norris has broken up with his girlfriend Y/N. The pair have unfollowed each other on all platforms and haven't been seen together in months. This suspicion was confirmed after fans saw Lando getting drunk at a club without his partner, living his life. What do you think happened? Follow for more updates!
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loveformywags2 What? Is this confirmed? This can't be right?! 🥲
lalalandlando4 He deserved better anyways 🤷♀️
f1maniaclvr Do y/n and Lando know about this? 🤦♀️
pookielanscar481 It's just odd that he was seen being drunk out of his mind without her
mam4you81 That's what I was thinking... What if she broke up with him and he's drowning himself in alcohol?
nanalalaf14 Honestly I don't think so, I think he dumped her since he had stopped interacting with her on his socials while she still liked and commented on all his posts.
4everf1loca NOOOOO my sheilaaaaa 😭
As I scrolled through the comments, reading the theories about us, a bitter realization hit me. They were only seeing the surface, the façade we had carefully crafted for the public. If only they knew what had really happened, the pain, the reasons behind our breakup.
The comments were full of speculation and curiosity. People thought they knew our love story, but they knew nothing. They didn't see the fights, the lies, the coldness between us. Their theories felt like a slap in the face, mocking the reality of our relationship.
All I knew at this moment was that I should take the time to heal and not let anyone ruin this for me.
Months had passed since the breakup, and I had finally made significant progress in my healing journey. Though the memory of Lando and our heartbreak still lingered, I had come a long way. I had focused on myself, investing time in hobbies, spending quality time with my friends, and allowing myself to heal.
I had established boundaries, avoiding social media and news about Lando that would reopen the wounds. I started a new project at work, pouring my energy into something productive. Slowly, I felt like I was rebuilding myself.
Right now, I was sat with my best friend, enjoying lunch together. My phone buzzed with a notification from an old group chat I had almost forgotten about. It was the group chat I used to be part of, with Kika and Alex.
When I opened it, I was greeted with a flood of messages, the group hasn't been active ever since my break up. So I was curious to see what this was all about.
My best friend, curious, noticed the notification that I had checked my phone. She gave me a questioning look, asking, "What was that about?"
"It's an old group chat from two of my WAG friends," I explained. "They want to catch up during the next GP."
My best friend raised her eyebrow, visibly curious. "And are you going to go?" she asked, her voice gentle but eager to know.
"At first, I didn't really want to go because of... well, Lando being there," I admitted, a mixture of hesitation and bravery in my voice. "But then I thought why should I let him dictate what I do? I shouldn't be scared of him, right?"
I paused, my determination showing through. "So, yes, I agreed to go."
My best friend's face lit up with happiness as she heard my decision. "I'm so proud of you!" she said, her pride shining through. "You're not letting him hold you back or influence you anymore. That's such a huge step forward, and you should be proud of yourself."
For a moment, seeing my best friend's proud expression filled me with a surge of bravery. She was right; I wasn't letting Lando affect my decisions anymore. I was taking control of my life again, one choice at a time.
As I laughed with my best friend, the weight of Lando gradually faded into the background. We continued talking, laughing, and enjoying our lunch together. Lando's name didn't come up in conversation. For now, he was just a distant thought, overshadowed by the joys of friendship and healing.
Lando stood in the McLaren garage during the Silverstone GP, his entourage of fake friends surrounding him in his papaya-colored driver overalls. They joked, laughed, and offered their hollow support, all while he got ready for the race.
Amidst the laughter, Lando's thoughts turned to y/n. He missed her, the void she had left in his life was still present, gnawing at him. He had tried to reach out, creating new accounts, but he found himself blocked at every turn, silence his only reply. It was as if the universe itself was holding back any chance of them reconnecting, driving home his deepest fears and regrets.
Lando snapped out of his pensive state, focusing his mind back on the race ahead. He had a job to do, after all. With a firm tone, he told his friends to stay put, to relax and enjoy the race while he got ready. His determination was evident, a momentary distraction from his heart's constant ache.
Lando quickly realised that he had forgotten his phone. As he retraced his steps to retrieve his phone, he heard muffled voices from within his driver's room. Curious, he stopped before he entered, straining to hear the conversation inside.
Michael chuckled, his voice dripping with amusement. "Can you believe Lando was so stupid to break up with her?" Sam agreed wholeheartedly, a sneer on his face. "She was perfect for him, a distraction holding him back from his true potential."
Jake snorted. "Yeah, she was a total inconvenience, always nagging and taking up his time and money. Good riddance, I say."
They shared a cruel laugh, satisfied with their opinions. The conversation between Lando's fake friends revealed their true intentions - to have Lando's undivided attention, away from someone who truly cared about him.
They continued their conversation, mocking y/n's influence on Lando. Michael spoke with a mischievous grin. "It was a piece of cake convincing him. He ate up everything we said like a fool."
John snorted in agreement. "Yeah, we made sure he saw her as a hindrance. Now we have him all to ourselves, no competition."
James interjected, a cruel glint in his eyes. "We convinced him she was holding him back, that he needed to focus on his racing. We even convinced him she was just after his money. Classic play."
They chuckled, pleased with the web of lies they had spun. Michael added, "He doesn't even know what's good for him. We'll keep him under our control, keeping his attention and his wealth all to ourselves. He's too naive to see through us."
Sam, the schemer, couldn't contain his glee. "This has been the easiest con ever. Lando's so trusting, so foolish. We just have to keep filling his head with our lies, and he'll do whatever we want."
Lando, his heart heavy with the revelations, stormed back into the room, anger seeping through his every feature. His fists clenched, his eyes darkened in fury. He couldn't believe how easily he had been manipulated, how blind he had been to the deceit around him.
"How could I be so stupid?" he bellowed, staring down the group.
The group of fake friends froze, their faces stunned. They stared at Lando, wide-eyed, their laughter abruptly silenced. They hadn't expected Lando to return so soon, or to have overheard their malicious conversation.
Lando's voice trembled with a mix of fury and pain. "I can't believe I let you manipulate me like this!" His eyes burned with a potent blend of anger and regret. He stepped closer, his voice filled with a mixture of disgust and hurt. "You were behind all of this, convincing me to break up with her, making me think she was holding me back."
The friends, caught off guard, tried to scramble for excuses. But Lando's words cut through their attempts to justify themselves. Michael spoke up, his voice trembling, "We... we were just looking out for you, Lando. We thought she was holding you back. We wanted what's best for your career, that's all."
Sam chimed in, trying to appease Lando. "We were trying to help you, Lando. We saw how she was distracting you, taking up your time and money. You need to focus on your racing. You're our golden goose!" He forced a fake chuckle, hoping Lando would buy into the manipulation again.
Lando clenched his fists, his body trembling with fury. "You didn't care about what's best for me. All you cared about was having me all to yourselves, using me for my fame and money. You manipulated me, turning me against the one person who loved me truly."
Jake tried to interject, his voice oozing with false concern. "Lando, we did care about you. We just wanted to protect you from a bad influence. We didn't want you to be taken advantage of." He attempted a manipulative smile, trying to deflect the blame onto me.
Lando's voice rose in intensity, his anger boiling over. "Don't you Dare talk about her like that! She was the only one who genuinely cared about me, not you. You're just jealous because she didn't let you use me like you do. You're nothing but a bunch of leeches!"
Michael, emboldened by Lando's anger, smirked, his words sharp. "Don't you dare blame us. This is on you, Lando. You were the one who was too stupid to see through our facade. Now you've lost her because of your own damn foolishness, not our fault in the slightest."
Lando, seething with a mix of hurt and anger, quickly called the security guards. With a firm voice, he instructed, "Get these snakes out of here now!"
The security guards, recognizing the tone of a man pushed to his limit, swiftly entered, escorting the fake friends out of the garage. Lando stood there, watching them leave, a bitter taste in his mouth.
As the fake friends were forcefully escorted out, Lando was left alone in the garage, the weight of his emotions crashing down on him. The pain, the regret, the anger—it all slammed into him, finally giving way to the torrent he had held back for so long.
He slumped against a wall, his body trembling with the force of his emotions. Tears prickled in his eyes, his breath coming in ragged breaths.
As Lando sat there, the regret gnawed at him, growing sharper by the second. He thought about y/n, the love he had lost. The memories of their time together flooded his mind, and he berated himself for throwing it away. He blamed himself for listening to the friends who had manipulated him.
He thought about the love they shared, how he had let it slip through his fingers, shattered by his own foolishness and vulnerability to their lies.
Lando, still in a vulnerable state, decided to reach out to Max, despite their rocky past. He thought about the clubs and the disagreements they had had, but he had no one else to turn to now. With a mix of regret and desperation, he dialed Max's number.
Max picked up the phone, immediately sensing the desperation in Lando's voice. As Lando poured out his emotions and apologies, Max listened, his tone softening.
Lando confessed, his voice cracking, "I should have listened to you, Max. You were right about them, all along. I was a fool to listen to their lies and ignore you."
Max, surprised but relieved, replied, "I'm glad you realize now, Lando. Those friends were toxic. They used you, and I tried to protect you, but I understood, now." Max's words were sympathetic, understanding Lando's turmoil, even though they had their differences.
Lando confessed, his voice trembling with a mix of regret and desperation. "Max, I miss her, I miss y/n so much. I'll do anything to get her back, anything at all. It's the biggest mistake I've ever made."
Max fell silent, his concern deepening. He didn't know the extent of Lando's mistreatment of her.
The mention of y/n stirred worry in Max. He gently asked, "Lando, you know I didn't want you to break up with her. But why do you think you mistreated her? Can you tell me about that?" Max's tone was cautious, sensing that there was more to the story than he knew.
Lando hesitated, knowing he had a lot to unpack. Max's curiosity fueled a mix of fear and guilt inside Lando. He knew he had to come clean, even though it was painful to admit.
Taking a deep breath, Lando began to confess, his voice shaky. "I... I treated her badly, Max. I hurt her, ignored her, and took her for granted."
Max couldn't help but wince, knowing there was a deeper issue.
Lando's voice cracked with remorse. "They fed me lies about her. They convinced me that she was holding me back, that she wasn't good enough. I believed them, and I treated her poorly."
Max, as supportive as possible, tried to provide words of encouragement. "Lando, that's rough. You've made mistakes, but the first step is admitting it. You know you messed up; now it's about making amends."
He sighed, "Lando, remember that true love isn't about perfection. It's about growing together, learning from mistakes, and valuing someone despite their flaws."
He paused, his voice serious. "But you've got to show her you mean it. Words are easy, but actions will be your proof. Are you ready to do that?"
Lando, though shaken and determined, nodded, his voice firm. "Yes, Max. I'm ready. I want to prove it to her. I'll show her I've changed and that I'm serious about making amends."
Max and Lando continued talking, their conversation growing shorter as Lando had to prepare for the race. As they bid each other goodbye, Max reminded Lando, "Stay focused during the race. Clear your mind; that's important, too."
Lando, though his mind was heavy with emotion, took Max's words to heart. He knew he had to compartmentalize his feelings for now and focus on the race ahead. He focused on the tracks, his car, and his performance, pushing aside his turbulent emotions for the moment.
I stepped into the grand prix feeling a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. The grandstands, the roaring fans, and the smell of rubber and fuel in the air brought back a whirl of emotions. Seeing the tracks where Lando and I used to share moments filled me with nostalgia and a pang of heartache.
My thought were interrupted by two voices. Kika and Alex, my two closest friends, ambushed me with warm hugs, pulling me into their embrace. Their cheerful voices cut through the noise of the Grand Prix, and I felt a mix of relief and joy. It had been a while since we had been together.
"Y/N! You made it!" Kika exclaimed. "We've missed you so much!"
Alex chimed in, grinning widely. "We've been dying to hang out with you! It's been ages." She playfully pinched my cheek. "You look great, by the way."
"Oh, stop it! I didn't do anything special. You two, on the other hand, are the real stars here. Look at you!" I playfully nudged them both, my tone teasing and lighthearted.
Kika and Alex beamed, clearly enjoying the compliment. "Alright, alright, enough with the flattery," Alex said, feigning exhaustion. "We're here to have a blast. You ready for this?"
I sighed one more time while looking around before replying. "More then ready."
We made our way to our favorite hangout spot at hospitality. It was cozy, far from the chaos of the track. As we settled in, surrounded by comfortable couches and tables, a mix of nostalgia and anticipation washed over us.
"I've missed this place," Kika said, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "So many memories, right?"
We spent hours catching up, sharing stories, laughter, and heartfelt moments. The conversation flowed easily between us, like old times. Laughter echoed in the cozy space of the hospitality center, and our spirits were lifted. Time seemed to slip away as we bonded and supported one another. Eventually, the time came for Kika and Alex to head back out; their respective significant others were getting ready for their races.
Kika and Alex rose from their seats, their faces slightly apologetic. "We have to go," Kika sighed.
Alex nodded, adding, "Come find us later, okay?"
I gave them both a nod, understanding their commitment to support their boyfriends. "Of course, we'll catch up after the races. Good luck to them!"
Kika and Alex shared one last embrace, their hugs warm and reassuring, then they left to get to their respective spots by the trackside.
As they left, I was left to navigate the grandstands, finding my spot amidst the sea of fans. I blended into the crowd, the anticipation in the air as the racers prepared for their engines to start.
The race concluded, but it felt bittersweet. Lando's face was everywhere - on the screens, the winners' podium, the trackside banners. Seeing him in his natural element, celebrating victories, stirred mixed emotions in me. The pain of missing him and the hope of reconciliation blended together in a complicated mix.
After a bit, I decided that I needed to use the restroom so I headed that way. I made my way to the private VIP restrooms, my VIP pass granting me access. The restroom was clean and spacious, offering a respite from the noise outside. I checked my reflection in the mirror, taking a moment to compose myself.
As I exited the restroom, I was lost in my thoughts, only to bump into someone in the hall. I froze, instantly recognizing Lando's familiar voice. His figure stood in front of me, and I felt my heart skip a beat. His gaze met mine, and time seemed to stand still.
Lando called out for me, his voice filled with surprise, "y/n." His eyes held a mix of shock and tenderness, his voice holding a hint of the emotions he was trying to keep at bay.
As the words hung in the air between us, my heart raced. His presence was so close, the warmth of his voice sending a shiver down my spine.
I got out of my stance, trying to leave, I tried to walk past him, but Lando blocked my path, stopping me in my tracks. I felt a wave of emotions crash over me - pain, anger, hope, and a deep longing all mingled together. The intensity of it was overwhelming, and I tried to suppress it.
Lando's voice was hesitant and filled with vulnerability. "Y/N, please…can we talk? Just for a moment."
His request was sincere, his eyes pleading with me not to walk away.
I shook my head, my resolve firm. "No, Lando. I can't and I don't want to." I replied, my voice resolute. The pain from our breakup was still too fresh, and talking to him now would reopen wounds I wasn't ready to confront. I tried to move past him, my expression set with determination.
Lando's face fell, a mix of hurt and resignation evident. He saw my determination, my refusal to engage. He took a step closer, his words soft but desperate, "Please... just hear me out."
My frustrations boiled over. "Don't you think it's ironic? Now you want me to hear you out, when you never listened to me when you decided to end things," I retorted, my voice filled with a mix of anger and sadness.
Lando winced at my words, the truth of them hitting him hard. "I know... I made a mistake," he said, his voice tinged with regret. He was trying to find the right words, his eyes pleading with me to give him a chance.
Lando's expression twisted, the guilt evident on his face as he processed my response. The words cut deep, the truth behind them undeniable.
"A mistake?" I repeated, my voice dripping with bitterness. "You ruined me."
I continued, my words raw.
"I spent months wondering what was wrong with me, why you ended a relationship of three years for a fake friendship that didn't even last a year. Where are those 'friends' who supposedly supported you through everything? I don't see them here, Lando."
Lando looked down, ashamed. He had no answer. His fake friends were nowhere to be found, leaving him alone to confront the consequences of his actions. The weight of his mistake seemed to grow heavier.
He finally managed to gather his thoughts, his voice a mix of guilt and sincerity. "I messed up. I don't expect you to forgive me right now. But please, let me explain." He took a step closer, his regret etched on his face, silently begging for my understanding.
I raised an eyebrow, my words sharp. "Explain? What's left to explain? You threw away three years of us for a group of shallow friendships. What could you possibly say to make this better?"
Lando knew my words hurt, but he was desperate. "I was blind. I was a damn coward," he confessed. "I allowed myself to be manipulated by my so- called friends, and in the process, I hurt you."
He continued, his voice tinged with regret and shame, "I saw them as my real friends, but now I realize they only saw me as a way to elevate their social status." He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "They saw you as a threat, someone who could expose their true intentions. They convinced me you were holding me back, when in reality, they had me blinded."
His voice trembled as he continued, "I let myself believe their lies. They filled my head with jealousy, making me doubt our relationship, and I was stupid enough to listen to them." His vulnerability shone through, his emotions raw.
I nodded, my expression guarded. "I'm glad you've recognized your mistakes, Lando. But can you imagine the pain I've experienced because of them, because of you?"
My words conveyed a mix of grief and resentment. The hurt I suffered remained a palpable presence, a constant reminder of the pain he had caused.
Lando nodded, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. He knew he couldn't take back what he had done. The time he spent believing those fake friends and ending our relationship had shattered something that couldn't easily be repaired. He understood the depth of my suffering, a consequence of his blind trust and foolishness.
Lando looked at me, his expression sincere, and asked if we could try again. He voiced his regret, hoping for a chance to make things right. The hope in his eyes was clear, but the weight of the past lingered between us. He wanted to rebuild, to fix what he had broken.
He pleaded with me, his voice filled with remorse. "I know I don't deserve a second chance, but I want us to try again. I want to prove to you that I've changed, that I won't let those fake friends influence me anymore. I'll do whatever it takes."
I shook my head, my voice resolute. "No, Lando. I'm still healing, and right now, I don't want to try again. I need time, space. I can't just forgive and forget in a snap."
My words were firm, expressing my current inability to jump back into a relationship after everything I had been through.
Lando, his voice filled with sincerity, looked into my eyes. His gaze conveyed the depth of his regret and determination. "I understand," he said. "I will wait for you, for ten years or more," he promised. "I'll be here when you're ready, no matter how long it takes."
As we concluded the conversation, Lando stood there, his heart heavy with the weight of our future hanging in the balance. He watched me leave, a mix of emotions coursing through him: regret, hope, and an ache of longing. He had to accept that he couldn't rush our healing process, no matter how much he desired to be by my side.
I walked away, my eyes misty, the past and the uncertainty of our future intertwining in my thoughts.
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f1gossippoffical Months after their break-up, Lando Norris and Y/N have been spotted after the Silverstone GP. Sources state that the ex-couple were arguing, what the argument was about is still a big question. Many suspected it was because of a third party being involved. Thoughts about this one?
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lazyformulaland Bro leave them alone, they're both adults. Let them solve this in peace ffs. 🙄
lvr4lan Noooo Lando honey this isn't you run!
wagslov4 Did he pick you yet ? 🙄
bbpiastri81 What the hell is going on
norriswithrizz4 This is insane, the main focus of formula one isn't even on formula one anymore smh 🤦♀️
4everyours4ln Y'all are too invested, leave my girl y/n alone.
momolew16 Forreal the girl didn't ask for this
closetofpeacefashion7 Exactly she was finally thriving and then this happend. It doesn't even look like she wanted to talk to him
mayyoushush8 Did she tell you that 🤨
closetofpeacefashion7 @mayyoushush8 Don't be stupid even a kid can see that 🥱
I decided to head back home, not forgetting to shoot Alex and Kika a quick message which they completely understood.
As I reached home, the weight of the evening's emotions crashed down on me. The conversation with Lando had stirred up all the hurt and confusion I had been suppressing. I felt emotionally exhausted and overwhelmed, unsure of what to make of it all.
The silence of my home only amplified my inner turmoil, leaving me to wrestle with my conflicted feelings.
A few days passed after the incident, I decided to move on with life and not let it bother me again. A perfect distraction? Drowning myself in my workload.
I arrived at work as I stepped inside the building, I was greeted by Linda, one of my co-workers.
Linda, approached me with a mischievous grin, her question catching me off guard. "Do you have a secret admirer, by any chance?" she asked, the curiosity palpable in her voice.
I stared at her, confused by her question, wondering why she would draw such a conclusion. I shook my head, puzzled by the idea. "What makes you think that?" I replied, raising an eyebrow.
Linda chuckled, her eyes sparkling with a hint of intrigue. She replied, "Have a look in your office."
Puzzled by her cryptic hint, I made my way to the elevator and reached my office. As I stepped inside, confusion lingered in my mind, wondering what I was about to find.
My eyes widened with shock and surprise as I entered the office, finding a massive bouquet of my favorite flowers. The delicate blooms filled the space with a sweet, comforting fragrance. Attached to the flowers was a note, mysterious and intriguing. My heart fluttered with anticipation as I reached for the note.
My fingers traced the delicate paper of the note, and as I read the words, they stirred a whirlwind of emotions. The poem was written in delicate script, the words flowing like music... and it was about love. Each line spoke of tenderness, trust, and a future filled with hope. The words were so beautiful, it was as if they were carefully chosen specifically for me.
The little poem, written with a tender brush of affection, read:
"From the morning dew to the evening's glow, My love for you continues to grow. Through shadows and light, in every season's rain, Our bond remains, a gentle refrain.
In whispers of joy and moments of peace, I hold you close within my heart's embrace. Each smile shared, each memory we weave, My love will remain a boundless pledge."
I was so confused, who could've been behind this? As I read the poem again, my mind wandered to Lando for a moment. I quickly dismissed that Idea. He had confessed that he couldn't write romantic words, finding them cringeworthy.
If it wasn't Lando, then who would have written such a poem?
As the day wrapped up, I found myself heading home, my mind still lingering on the mysterious poem. Entering my home, I sank onto the couch, exhaustion seeping through my bones. The softness of the cushions welcomed me as my thoughts played through my mind, trying to unravel the mystery.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sudden ring of the doorbell that echoed through my home. It was late in the evening, and I couldn't guess who might be at the door at such a time. With some curiosity and a hint of wariness, I got up to answer.
I went over to the door to open it and I was met with a delivery man. The delivery man handed me a massive bouquet of fresh flowers and a large box of chocolates. The fragrance from the flowers mingled with the scent of chocolate. The combination was almost overwhelming, leaving me baffled as I accepted the gifts.
Now I was even more confused, this bouquet was even bigger than the one from my office. And the weird thing was, that the chocolates I got were only my favorites.
I examined the box of chocolates, finding another note attached to the top. Carefully, I opened the wrapper, retrieving the note. Just like the previous one, it was written on delicate paper, filled with intrigue. I unfolded it, ready to read the message.
As I unfolded the paper, I was met with neat, elegant handwriting. The words held a romantic touch, and I felt a mix of anticipation and curiosity. The second poem spoke of tender love and adoration.
"Your presence brings light to every room, A symphony of grace in each simple bloom. Though we may walk separate paths in life, My heart's allegiance is a ceaseless strife."
I sat there, taken aback by the heartfelt words. They spoke of admiration and deep affection. Who could have written these beautiful poems and left them for me? The confusion deepened, and I pondered who could be behind the mysterious gestures.
Plagued by curiosity, I reached for my phone and called my best friend, hoping for answers. As the call rang, I prepared myself for a wave of questions, expecting her to know something.
My best friend's cheerful voice filled the call, answering instantly. "Hello?" She sounded cheerful as ever, not knowing the mystery I was about to unload on her.
I cut straight to the point, my tone slightly urgent. "Hey, I have a question. So, I've been receiving anonymous flowers, chocolates, and... poems." I paused a moment. "Any idea who it could be?" I asked, hoping for some insight.
She was silent for a moment, her surprise apparent. But then her voice brightened, and I could tell she had a theory. "Oooh, a mystery admirer?" she asked, half-joking, half-curious.
I sighed, rolling my eyes playfully. "Well, yes. It is somewhat mysterious." I replied, unable to hide the hint of unease in my voice amidst the flowers and chocolates surrounding me.
We delved into the mystery, discussing possibilities. From past crushes to unknown admirers, we contemplated various scenarios. But no concrete conclusion surfaced, leaving me even more intrigued and slightly frustrated.
That was until my best friend's insight sparked a new perspective. She pointed out that the mystery admirer seemed to know me well. They knew my workplace, my love for romantic poems, and even my favorite chocolates and flowers. It wasn't just a coincidence; they seemed to have a grasp on my habits. The timing of the delivery was eerily precise, appearing just when I arrived home.
My best friend continued, her voice filled with speculation. "It's not just the flowers and chocolates, it's the timing. They know your work schedule. It's almost like they're watching, waiting for the right moment."
I agreed, thoughtfully absorbing. "Yeah, that's been bothering me. The timing is too perfect. They either know my schedule or they're stalking me." I chuckled, trying to soften the situation with humor.
"Wait!" My best friend suddenly interrupted, a speculative glint in her eyes. "Could it have been Lando?"
The name hung heavily in the air, bringing our conversation to a halt.
I shook my head, quickly dismissing the idea. "No, probably not. Lando doesn't enjoy writing, especially not romantic poems. He always told me he found them cringe."
My bestie nodded, acknowledging my response. "Ah, right. He's not exactly the poetic type, is he?"
I grinned slightly, remembering Lando's disdain for poetic words. "Nope, definitely not. He'd rather punch a wall than write a poem." I joked, the idea of Lando writing a poem seeming far-fetched, even for a moment.
After a while of thinking and cracking our brains open, we ended the conversation, deciding to table the mystery for the moment. We said our goodbyes and hung up the phone, my mind still swirling with questions. I prepared for the night, the flowers and chocolates lingering in the background, their presence a reminder of the mysterious admirer.
Several months passed, and the mysterious gifts persisted, each one more thoughtful and personal. The flowers continued arriving, alongside a new addition - small, handmade tokens. Notes slipped into the bouquet containing thoughtful messages, while a box of my favorite chocolates came with a heartfelt poem.
I sought information, asking friends and family if they knew anything. They were taken by surprise and genuinely had no idea who was behind the surprises. The mystery deepend as everyone denied any involvement.
The mystery escalated. Along with the physical gifts, I discovered a surprise on my phone. Text messages arrived with miniature poems, each one carefully crafted and sweet. The sender's number remained undisclosed, leaving me baffled about the identity.
The mystery escalated. Along with the physical gifts, I discovered a surprise on my phone. Text messages arrived with miniature poems, each one carefully crafted and sweet. The sender's number remained undisclosed, leaving me baffled about the identity.
The messages, delivered alongside the tangible gifts, carried messages that resonated with my emotions and experiences. It felt almost as if this person truly knew me, yet remained hidden behind the anonymity of their identity.
It was that time again - our annual girls' night out. We always looked forward to these nights, a chance to let loose and have a blast in a vibrant club. I had my best friend beside me, ready to dance the night away. The only problem? My best friend chose a club that Lando used to go to every time. She reassured me that he wouldn't be here which I took her word for.
We strutted into the club, excitement filling the air. Music pulsed through the venue, the bass matching the rhythm of our hearts. The lights dazzled the dance floor, and we blended into the crowd, the worries of the day fading in the throes of the nightlife. We decided to hit the dance floor, letting go of any inhibitions as we lost ourselves in the music.
We danced with abandon, the beat pulsating through us, the rhythmic movements our shared language. The neon lights flashed, adding an electric charge to the atmosphere. As we danced and whirled, we felt liberated from the daily grind, living in the moment, lost in the music and the company of my best friend.
Later that night we both got thirsty, I made my way to the bar to get us drinks, when suddenly a man approached me. I could already smell the alcohol on him as he staggered towards me, a lopsided smile plastered on his face.
He smirked, his words coming out in a clumsy manner. "Hey there, pretty lady," he slurred, his tone oozing with an unwanted familiarity. He invaded my personal space, leaning in a bit too close for comfort.
I could feel the warmth of his breath, tainted with alcohol, against my cheek as he spoke. "What's a beautiful girl like you doing here alone?" He tried to flirt, his persistence evident even amidst his intoxication.
I tried to maintain a polite smile, stepping back slightly. "I'm here with a friend," I replied, my voice a mix of politeness and discomfort. I glanced at the bartender, silently praying for my order to arrive sooner so I could escape this uncomfortable interaction.
He chuckled, his intoxication making him clumsy yet bold. "Oh, come on. A pretty girl like you shouldn't be tied down to just one friend. You should let loose and have fun," he insisted, his words filled with a suggestive undertone.
I tried to end the conversation, giving him a firm but polite dismissal. "Thanks, but I'm good," I said, my tone leaving no room for further conversation. I discreetly inched closer to the bar, hoping he would get the hint and leave me alone.
Instead of taking the hint, he persisted. "Oh, come on. Don't be a party pooper. One drink won't hurt," he insisted, his words slurring even more. He took another step closer, trying to close the gap between us.
I felt a mix of discomfort and annoyance as his persistence continued. The smell of alcohol was overwhelming, leaving a cloying odor on the air. I tried to maintain my composure, not wanting to cause a scene but also wanting him to back off.
He took another step closer, his gaze lingering on me. I could see the effects of the alcohol on him - the unsteady steps, the glazed look in his eyes, the clumsy attempts at charm. He reached out, attempting to touch my arm, his gesture too familiar and unwelcome.
The guy got annoyed when I backed away. He reached out, his hand grabbing my arm with a firm grip, trying to pull me back. I felt a jolt of fear as he attempted to drag me.
His hold tightened, his voice a mix of frustration and insistence. "Come on, don't you know how to have fun? Just one drink, a little chat." He tugged at me, his alcohol-fueled stubbornness evident.
I felt a mix of panic and defiance. "Let me go, you sick prick!" I exclaimed, my voice strained. I glanced around, hoping for someone to intervene, but every face seemed lost in their own world, oblivious or uncaring about the situation. The loud music blared, making it seem as if no one could hear my cries for help.
The guy gripped my arm tighter, his eyes filled with a mix of drunken determination. He leaned in closer, his face twisted with frustration. "Why are you making this so difficult? Just one drink, come on."
He forced me into an empty, private room, his grip on my arm still strong, leaving me with a sense of dread. The music was a distant throb outside, leaving me more isolated in this unsettling scenario.
His grip faltered as someone unexpectedly appeared, a figure entering the room with a decisive move. Before the guy could even think of pulling me fully into the room, someone intervened, delivering a well-aimed punch to his gut. The guy groaned, doubled over in pain as he released his grip on me.
The guy fell to his knees, clutching his stomach as the force of the blow rippled through him. Confusion, pain, and shock replaced the smugness from before. I could only watch, relief washing over me as I realized I wasn't alone anymore.
The drunk guy, overwhelmed by the combination of alcohol and the punch, scrambled to his feet before stumbling out of the room, whimpering in pain. The sudden exit left me alone with the mysterious person who had stepped in to save me.
Lando rushed towards me, concern etched on his face. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" he asked, his voice filled with emotion. The warm green in his eyes held a mix of worry and relief that I was alright.
He reached for my arm where the drunk guy had grabbed me before, inspecting the area to check if I was hurt. I could feel the tenderness as he gently ran his fingers over the spot, ensuring I was unharmed. Lando then gazed at my face, studying it for any signs of distress.
I gently pulled my hand away, forcing a small smile to reassure him. "I'm okay," I insisted, my voice steady but guarded. His concern was palpable, and I could see the relief in his eyes as he saw that I was not physically harmed.
Lando seemed desperate, unwilling to let me leave just yet. He reached for my arm again, his grasp gentle but firm. "Please, just hear me out," he pleaded, his voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and hope.
My response came sharp, biting. "Why would I? You didn't try to reach out, didn't try to find me, or even show an ounce of concern until now," I shot back, my words laced with bitterness and resentment.
Lando's response came with a mix of frustration and hidden emotion. "I haven't tried? Since our last talk, I've done everything I could to win you back," he retorted, his words carrying a hint of vulnerability. "Who do you think sent you all those gifts? Who else would know your work schedule, your favorite foods, your love for poems? I know I said I hated them, but for you, I embraced them."
His words were layered with hurt and a desire for reconciliation. Lando finally confessed, "It was me, all along. I couldn't bear the thought of losing you forever, so I hoped my gestures would speak for me." The pain in his face was evident, his eyes pleading for understanding.
I stammered at his words, a mixture of surprise and confusion overwhelming me. Never in my entire life I would've thought Lando would do all of this for me. My mind raced as I tried to comprehend the lengths he had gone to reach me.
My voice trembled as I spoke, "So... you were behind those text messages as well? How...? But I blocked all your accounts, even the new ones. How did you manage to send me messages?"
Lando hesitated for a moment, his eyes fixed on mine as he confessed. "I bought a new phone with a different SIM card... just so I could message you." His answer hung in the air, the weight of his dedication palpable in the quiet space of the room.
He continued, his voice earnest, "I couldn't bear the silence between us, the distance. Even if you blocked me everywhere, I had to find a way to reach you, to express how I felt." The depth of his yearning and determination to keep the connection alive was evident in each word.
I remained silent, overwhelmed by his confession. Lando had gone to great lengths just to communicate with me, buying a new phone and SIM card, defying my attempts to cut off contact. The depth of his dedication was both touching and overwhelming. I couldn't deny the mix of emotions swirling within me.
Lando stood there, his eyes searching mine, desperate for a glimmer of hope. The air hung heavy with anticipation as he awaited my reaction, his vulnerability on full display, his heart on his sleeve.
I grappled for a response, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. "I... I'm still processing this," I managed to utter, my voice filled with a mix of hurt and confusion. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? Why let me think you didn't care?" I blurted out, a hint of betrayal seeping into my voice.
Lando's eyes filled with remorse, his shoulders slouching slightly. "I was afraid," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Afraid of being rejected, scared that you would push me away if I tried to talk to you and most importantly scared you would've moved on. I thought sending those gifts and messages would be a way to reach out without directly risking rejection."
I stared at him, taken aback by his honesty. His confession laid bare his fears and insecurities, exposing the vulnerability beneath his usually composed facade. But my hurt remained, the sting of his silence lingering.
I couldn't hide my feelings, and I let my resentment spill out. "But you let me suffer!" I cried out, the pain pouring out in my words. "I thought you didn't care, that you moved on, while I was here, hurting over our broken relationship."
Lando's face contorted with pain at my outburst, his shoulders sinking lower. He took a step forward, bridging the gap between us. "I know, I know," he pleaded, his voice filled with regret. "I was a coward. I let fear dictate my choices, and I hurt you in the process. I'm sorry."
I wanted to believe him, to fall into the comfort of his apology and the sweet gestures he had made, but the wounds of the past remained. The memories of his silence, his refusal to communicate, and the pain I endured still weighed heavily on my heart.
Lando saw the hesitance in my eyes, noticed the barrier I had put up. His expression pleaded with me, a mixture of sorrow and yearning. I could tell he wanted me to forgive him, to let him back in.
"Lando, I'm so conflicted," I confessed, my voice cracking. The wounds of the past still fresh, I couldn't let go easily. "How can I trust that you won't hurt me again? I've suffered so much because of you, how can I be sure you won't do something like this again?" I asked, hoping for an answer that would quell my doubts. The pain was still too raw to simply forgive and forget.
Lando's eyes filled with remorse, his face a mask of sorrow and guilt. He knew he had caused me pain and had no right to expect forgiveness so easily. He stepped closer, the gap between us becoming smaller. With a gentle voice, he spoke. "I don't ask for you to trust me instantly," he said, his voice tinged with sincerity. "I want to prove to you that I've changed, that I won't make the same mistakes again. Please, just give me a chance to show you."
I held his gaze, my eyes pleading for understanding. "I need some time," I implored, my voice shaky. "I can't just forget overnight. Give me the space to process everything, to heal." The emotions coursing through me were overwhelming, and I needed time to make sense of the rollercoaster of events.
Lando's response was gentle and resolute. "I will wait for you. Remember, even if it takes ten years," he said, his voice filled with sincerity and a hint of vulnerability. "I'll be here when you're ready, no matter how long it takes."
I looked back at Lando, his pleading eyes yearning for a reprieve. With a heavy heart, I whispered, "Goodbye," and reluctantly turned away. The music and lights faded as I weaved through the crowd, searching for my best friend who had remained oblivious to the emotional storm that had just unfolded between Lando and me.
I found my best friend in the crowd, her smile lighting up upon seeing me. However, her smile quickly faded as she saw the tears streaming down my face. Without a word, she stood up, concern etched on her face.
She wrapped an arm around my shoulders, gently guiding me towards the exit. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice filled with understanding. "Let's go home."
We stepped out of the club, the cool outside air a stark contrast to the stifling heat inside. We hailed an Uber, and my bestie decided to spend the night to provide comfort and lend an ear.
We settled into the car, the soft hum of the engine accompanying us as we made our way home. I took a deep breath, preparing to recount the tumultuous events of the evening to my best friend.
The Uber pulled up in front of my building, and we disembarked, the night's cool air a stark reminder of the emotional journey I had been through. We made our way into my house, the silence between us filled with anticipation.
We entered my house, the familiarity of the space providing a semblance of comfort. My bestie guided me to the couch, pulling a blanket over us as we settled in for what was sure to be a long night of conversation.
I poured my heart out, recounting every detail, from Lando's apology to the painful memories that still lingered. My best friend listened intently, her eyes widening in surprise and shock as she took in the emotional rollercoaster I had described.
She was stunned, her face reflecting the whirlwind of emotions that had unfolded. "Wow," she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't believe he did all that."
My voice trembled with uncertainty, "I don't know what to do," I confessed, my emotions a tumultuous mess. "I want to trust him, but it's so hard to ignore the pain he caused. It feels like a never-ending cycle of confusion and fear." I rested my head on my friend's shoulder, seeking solace in her presence.
She rubbed my back soothingly, her support an anchor that kept me from drifting further into despair. In a gentle yet reassuring tone, she spoke. "It's okay to feel conflicted. Trust is earned, and forgiveness takes time. Don't rush yourself. Take whatever time you need to figure out what you want." She held me closer, offering her presence as a grounding force amidst the chaos.
My best friend posed the question that echoed within me, "Do you still love him?" The question sliced through the air, digging deep into emotions I had tried to bury.
Hesitantly, I met her gaze, tears glistening in my eyes. "I… I don't know," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.
My friend's words were honest, cutting through the confusion. She persisted, "That isn't an answer, y/n. It's a simple yes or no question." I remained silent for a long moment, my emotions swirling inside. Finally, after an excruciating pause, I whispered, "Fine, yes. Yes, I still love him." The admission hung in the air, vulnerable and raw.
My best friend looked at me, her eyes mirroring a mixture of understanding and support. "Give him a chance," she urged, her voice gentle yet firm. "Don't give in immediately. See how far he's willing to go. If he goes beyond just gifts and gestures, you'll know he's sincere.''
A wave of confusion washed over me, and I turned to her for clarification. "What do you mean, 'beyond gifts and gestures'?" I inquired, the words tumbling out in a whispered plea for understanding.
She seemed to gather her thoughts for a moment, then met my gaze with an earnest expression. "I mean, beyond just grand gestures. Beyond the gifts and the poems. Love is about more than just gestures. It's about genuine care, about being there for each other, through every high and low. It's about trust and communication. Those are the true tests of sincere love," she replied, her words wise and heartfelt.
She continued, her voice steady. "If Lando truly cares about you, he will show it in every aspect of his life, not just with grand gestures. He will prioritize your needs, respect your boundaries, and be there for you, even in the most ordinary moments."
Her words resonated within me, their truth echoing in my heart. It didn't matter if he had sent flowers or sweet poems. Love wasn't just about gifts; it was about presence, understanding, and unwavering support through life's tumultuous journey.
We continued talking for hours, my best friend's words sinking deep into my thoughts. Eventually, we decided to call it a day, both exhausted by the emotional rollercoaster. My mind whirled with questions as we prepared to say our goodnights.
Lando's dedication persisted. In the days that followed, his gestures remained constant. I noticed flowers and chocolates carefully placed on my desk each morning, a poem hidden amidst the petals, and a warm coffee waiting when I arrived in the morning, exactly how I liked it.
Today it was different. I heard a knock on my office door, I replied with a simple 'come in' as the person entered. Lando stood in my office doorway, his hands holding my favorite coffee and a neatly prepared lunch. He spoke softly, concern in his voice.
"I hope I'm not interrupting, but I know you can get forgetful about your nutrition while working. So I brought you something." The gesture warmed my heart, leaving me momentarily speechless.
His willingness to break away from his busy schedule, solely to ensure I took care of myself, touched me deeply.
"Thank you," I expressed gratefully, touched by his thoughtfulness. I had to ask him, curious about the sacrifice of his valuable time. "But aren't you busy? You still made time for this?"
Lando responded, his voice gentle yet sincere. "I'm busy," he admitted. "But I make time for you because you matter to me."
His simple yet powerful response struck a chord within me. In the midst of the busyness of life, he had made time for me, prioritizing my wellbeing. It spoke volumes about his devotion and care, that he was willing to sacrifice his valuable time just to ensure I wasn't neglecting myself.
The sincerity in his eyes and the way he stood in my office doorway, a small lunch in hand, felt overwhelming. It was as if he was trying to prove that he valued our connection more than the hustle and bustle of life.
In the weeks that followed, Lando's gestures became an integral part of my routine. He arrived at my office each morning with my favorite coffee, not missing a single day, even when I forgot it myself. During lunch breaks, he carefully watched over me, ensuring I ate, sometimes even bringing me delectable meals he prepared himself. He began helping me with paperwork, even when he didn't have the expertise—a gesture that left me touched.
Once, when I found a mouse in my apartment, he came at 4 a.m., not hesitating for a moment despite having an early flight.
His devotion continued. In the midst of his travels, he remained constant in sending me thoughtful gifts. The distance didn't seem to matter as his love crossed time and continents.
With each passing day, my heart opened up a little more. His gestures filled my heart with a mix of gratitude, warmth, and a hint of rekindling love.
It seemed like any ordinary day, with Lando on the other side of the world for a race. I was engulfed in my work, my focus solely on the paperwork, to the neglect of myself. Suddenly, my colleague Linda burst into my office.
Linda spoke with concern, her voice filled with worry. "You've been working nonstop. Come on, let's get something to eat." I protested, insisting on finishing my task first, but Linda's stern expression was unrelenting. I agreed reluctantly, rising from my seat. Little did I know, the world was about to spin.
As we walked, I started feeling dizzy, an unfamiliar sensation overtaking me. Linda's voice was heard from beside me. "Sweetheart are you alright?"
"No, no, I'm fine," I quickly reassured Linda, believing I had just stood up too quickly. Yet, before I could take another step, my world slipped away, and I plunged into the darkness of unconsciousness.
Linda witnessed the sudden collapse and hurried to my side, concern filling her voice. "y/n, are you okay?" she asked urgently, but I was unresponsive, the world around me fading into blackness.
The sound of voices echoed in the distance, Linda's voice calling my name. However, the comforting embrace of darkness held me captive.
As I emerged from the haze of unconsciousness, I felt a soothing yet firm hold on my hand. I groaned softly, my eyes slowly creaking open, reluctantly adjusting to the stark brightness of my surroundings.
As my vision cleared, I realized I was in a hospital room. The sterile environment, the soft hum of medical equipment, and the distinctive smell of antiseptic filled the air. I heard someone calling my name, I turned my head, my gaze drifting towards the source of the voice that called my name.
I blinked, still in a state of surprise to see Lando beside me. He looked at me with concern, his presence unexpected given that he was supposed to be on the opposite side of the globe. He spoke urgently, "How are you feeling? Should I call for a doctor?" His worry was evident in his eyes as he waited for my response.
Amidst the haze of confusion and exhaustion, my mind clung to one question. "What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice weak but filled with surprise. "You're supposed to be on the other side of the world."
His response caught me off guard, touching my heart amidst the whirlwind of emotions. "I'm you're emergency contact," he reminded me, and the realization set in.
He had crossed continents and time zones, arriving swiftly on his private jet, driven by his concern for my well-being. I had been asleep for 12 hours, and in that timeframe, he had made his way across the globe to be by my side.
The depth of his commitment touched my heart. Despite the demands of his career, he had flown across the world to be by my side, prioritizing my well-being above everything else. The knowledge that he was my emergency contact made a surge of warmth flow through me. It was a reminder of my significance in his life and the lengths he would go to for me.
I tried to compose myself, my voice still weak, I told him, "You shouldn't have done this. You have important things to attend."
Guilt tugged at me, knowing he had sacrificed his commitments to be here. His racing schedule, his career, everything seemed secondary to his concern for me in that moment.
Lando shook his head, his expression resolute. "I don't care, none of it matters as much as you do," he insisted, his gaze filled with sincerity. He reached out to gently hold my hand, his touch comforting. "Nothing is as important as you," he repeated, emphasizing his priorities.
His words struck a nerve, causing a mix of emotions to rise within me. Tears welled up in my eyes, his unwavering devotion filling me with a combination of gratitude and sorrow. I had doubted him, feared a lack of commitment, yet here he was, proving me wrong in the most dramatic way possible.
His presence in the hospital room, despite the distance he traveled, felt surreal. The sound of medical equipment beeping in the background seemed distant compared to the intense emotions swirling between us. Lando held my hand, his touch warm and reassuring.
In that moment of tender silence, Lando spoke again. His voice was soft, carrying a mix of concern and affection. He squeezed my hand gently, his thumb tracing small circles on my palm. "I was so worried," he admitted, his eyes locked on mine. "Seeing you here in the hospital... was terrifying."
His eyes mirrored the vulnerability he rarely displayed, raw emotions laid bare. The fear he had felt, the concern that gripped him, all visible in his expression. The reality of the situation weighed heavily between us, his emotions palpable and sincere.
I offered a reassuring smile, trying to ease his worries, though the weakness in my voice betrayed my fatigue. "I'm okay," I whispered, exhaustion evident in my words. My weak hand attempted to squeeze his in return, hoping to show my gratitude despite my physical state.
Lando's grip on my hand tightened, his thumb tracing comforting circles on my skin. His gaze remained focused on me, studying my face, searching for any signs of discomfort or pain. He was skeptical of my reassurance, his worry etched on his furrowed brow.
We delved into conversation, discussing random topics, our worries fading into the background. Our chat was filled with laughter and genuine connection. However, our peaceful moment was interrupted when the doctor entered the room for a routine check-up. The doctor informed me that I was discharged, giving me the okay to leave.
Lando assisted me in gathering my belongings, the tenderness in his gestures evident. He carried my bag and carefully guided me out of the hospital room. We paced side by side, making our way to Lando's car parked outside.
We traveled in a soothing silence, the weight of the hospital now off our shoulders. As we reached my place, Lando diligently helped me bring my belongings inside and prepared to leave. But before he could go, he paused and called my name, the sound breaking the tranquility.
I turned my attention his way, meeting his eyes with curiosity. "Yes?" I responded, wondering what was on his mind. His voice had held a hint of hesitation, as if there was something important he wanted to convey.
He inhaled sharply, the weight of his question becoming apparent. He spoke with vulnerability, "There's something I want to ask you. You're free to refuse, but I genuinely want to ask... Will you go on a date with me tomorrow?"
I was initially startled, but the anticipation in his eyes was evident. He swiftly added, "Only if you want it to be a date of course" I could see the sincerity in his gaze. A soft smile tugged at my lips as I accepted his invitation, my voice steady with anticipation. "Yes."
The relief and happiness that washed over Lando's face at my acceptance were evident. His shoulders relaxed, and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "You'll go on a date with me?" he asked, a mix of surprise and joy in his tone. "Really?"
The vulnerability in Lando's voice hinted at the significance of my acceptance. He was eager to hear my confirmation once more, his eyes glimmering with hope. I smiled warmly, reassuring him, "Yes, I'll go on a date with you."
We bid each other good night, both feeling the exhilaration of the upcoming date. The way we acted mirrored that of teenagers experiencing their first date, a mix of excitement, nervousness, and anticipation. As we exchanged a final glance, our connection felt like a magnetic pull, both eager for the moment to come. The goodbye lingered for a few moments, filled with electricity.
The evening of our date arrived, and my best friend was diligently working on styling my hair, while I focused on applying my makeup. She fussed over my locks, while I carefully applied concealer and mascara to enhance my eyes. My outfit hung on the closet's door, chosen for the evening. The weight of my excitement made my heart flutter in anticipation of the night ahead.
My best friend, brushing through my hair as she styled it, spoke up. "You know, Lando really went above and beyond for you, don't you think he deserves a chance?" she said, emphasizing his efforts.
There was a pause as I met her gaze in the mirror, a mix of emotions coursing through me. I set down my mascara and turned to face her, the weight of her words settling.
She looked at me, waiting for my response, her eyes filled with a mix of encouragement and genuine concern. The reminder of Lando's efforts weighed heavily on my thoughts. He had shown dedication and cared for me, but my past fears and apprehensions lingered, making it hard to fully let go.
I took a moment, considering her words. Inhaling deeply, I nodded, offering a soft smile of agreement. "Yeah, I know," I admitted, my voice a mix of vulnerability and hope. "But it's... it's hard to trust after everything."
I voiced my intentions, my eyes glimmering with determination. "I want to give him a chance," I declared, my resolve strengthened. "Not just a chance, but an opportunity to show me that he's worth trusting." My past pain weighed heavily on my heart, but the hope in my voice was undeniable.
Her squeal of happiness filled the room, echoing her encouragement. "Oh my god, y/n! I'm so happy for you!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with enthusiasm. "You're doing the right thing, giving him a shot. He'll make you so happy!"
She grinned, her excitement infectious. "I can feel it in my bones, this is gonna be great. He's going to sweep you off your feet."
We concluded our primping, with my best friend leaving with a parting "keep me updated, and good luck!" The anticipation in my stomach intensified, a mix of excitement and nerves gripping me. I took another glance in the mirror, taking in my appearance one last time.
I was wearing a black off shoulder dress, that hugged my curves nicely. I paired it with the famous uncomfy YSL heels and matching purse. My hair was styled in a beautiful blow out flowing over my shoulders. I sighed one more time before grabbing my stuff.
The doorbell echoed through the room, signaling Lando's arrival with its gentle tone. My heart leaped in my chest, his presence just outside my door.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and then opened the door. Lando stood there, his presence immediately filling the space, and warmth spread through my chest. He looked handsome, his well-groomed appearance evident, but it was his warm eyes and gentle smile that greeted me.
Lando stood before me, a bouquet of vibrant flowers in hand. His expression was one of awe, his words momentarily lost. He managed to compose himself and spoke, his voice filled with admiration. "You look absolutely stunning," he said, his eyes drinking in the sight of me.
The flowers were a beautiful display of color, their delicate petals reflecting the soft light of the hallway. Lando held them out, offering them to me like a bouquet of promises. I extended my hand, taking them with a soft smile, his compliment making my cheeks flush.
We walked out together, arm in arm, the cold evening air washing over us. Lando guided me to his car, opening the passenger door and helping me inside as a gentleman. As we settled in, the city lights danced outside, casting a cozy ambiance in the car.
We arrived at the restaurant, a charming Italian bistro with soft lighting and a cozy ambiance. Lando got out, rushing to open my door, offering a hand to help me out with a soft smile. The scent of fresh herbs and garlic filled the air, a promise of a delicious meal to come.
We stepped inside, the warmth wrapping around us. The atmosphere was romantic, with soft music playing in the background. Lando guided me to a table by the windows, pulling out my chair before taking a seat himself. Candles flickered on the table, casting a soft glow over everything.
We settled into our seats at the table, the ambiance around us serene and inviting. The waiter approached, greeting us warmly and setting menus before us. The scent of fresh bread and delectable aromas wafted from the kitchen, fueling the anticipation for the meal ahead.
Lando spoke with confidence, knowing my preferences. "What do you want to get?" he asked, but before I could respond, he answered himself, "No, I know already. Let me guess... the carbonara." A smile tugged at my lips as he remembered my favorites so effortlessly. I replied, "You know it," a mix of affection and appreciation filling my voice. His attention to detail and memories of things I liked made my heart swell with warmth.
The night unfolded, filled with lively conversation and laughter. Time seemed to stand still as we lost ourselves in our connection, the sound of others around us fading into the background. It felt as if the world had narrowed down to just us, an intimate bubble filled with shared laughter, stolen glances, and shared stories.
As the night drew to a close, neither of us wanted it to end. Lando paid for the meal, and I thanked him with genuine gratitude. We decided to take a stroll, drawn to a nearby bench that offered a view of the water. As we settled onto the bench, the gentle moonlight illuminated the night, casting a silvery glow over the water's surface.
I broke the comfortable silence, my voice soft and sincere. "Lando?" I began, my words carrying heartfelt appreciation. "I really enjoyed today. Thank you," I expressed, my eyes glimmering with warmth as I looked at him.
Lando met my gaze, a soft smile playing at his lips. He spoke with sincerity, his voice filled with warmth. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he replied, his eyes mirroring the appreciation in mine. "It means the world to me that you had a good time. I truly enjoyed every moment with you."
I addressed the elephant in the room, acknowledging the immense effort he'd put in. "You know, you really have gone above and beyond for me these past months," I said, my tone sincere.
It had been a challenge to regain my trust, and Lando's consistent gestures had played a significant role in rebuilding it. His eyes glimmered with a mix of vulnerability and hope, absorbing my words.
Lando's voice was quiet as he responded, his tone sincere. "I know I have, but every moment of it was worth it," he confessed, his emotions clear in his eyes.
"I wanted to show you that you could trust me, that I would go to any lengths to earn your trust," he added, his voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and earnestness.
I continued, my questions flowing out. "What about after we get back together? Would you still care about me like this" I inquired, my eyes searching his.
Lando's expression shifted, vulnerability and sincerity mixing in his gaze.
"After we get back together, I want to cherish every moment even more," he admitted, his voice filled with sincerity. "I want to support you, care for you, and be there for you through anything. I want to keep building on the trust we have and make our relationship stronger than ever."
His sincere words found their way to my heart, a tenderness washing over me. The vulnerability in his expression, combined with his commitment to cherishing our relationship, stirred something within me.
I spoke up, my voice soft but filled with resolution. "I think," I began, "I'm ready to be yours again."
Lando stood up, his eyes wide with disbelief, his emotions overwhelming him. He wrapped his arms around me, lifting me off the bench in a tight embrace.
As he spun us around in a whirlwind of joy, he spoke with heartfelt conviction, "I won't disappoint you ever again. I love you so much."
His hands remained on my waist, a tender touch that seemed to anchor me. I felt a surge of warmth and contentment as I replied with a giggle that turned into laughter, sharing in Lando's excitement.
"I love you too, Lan," I confessed, my eyes glimmering with affection
Lando's grip on my waist tightened as he pulled me into a passionate kiss, a fusion of his emotions and desires. The softness of the moment contrasted with the intensity of our feelings, the kiss sending a surge of electricity through my body. I melted into his embrace, returning the kiss.
As the kiss intensified into a make-out session, I reluctantly pulled away, the reminder of Lando's fame echoing in my mind. However, Lando was unfazed, his response quick and resolute.
He shrugged off the potential consequences, insisting, "Let them see. I've got my girl back, and that's all that matters." His smile was filled with a mixture of certainty and passion as he pulled me back, their lips meeting once more in a toe-curling kiss that seemed to defy any outside concerns.
The moon shone down, lighting up the night as Lando wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close, and we walked back to his car. The air held a delicate sense of anticipation, and as we drove away, I nestled my head against Lando's shoulder, feeling safe and cherished.
Gratitude and affection swelled within me as I realized I had given Lando another chance, and that my heart had bloomed open once again. I smiled, my thoughts swirling with appreciation and love for the incredible journey we were about to embark on.
The end
#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 fic#lando imagine#lando norris fanfic#lando norris imagine#lando fanfic#lando x y/n#lando norris x reader#lando fluff#lando x you#lando x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris angst#lando norris x y/n#lando norris fluff#lando norris x oc#f1 x female reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x you#f1 fluff#f1 angst
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FEBUWHUMP 2024 PROMPT LIST
this year's prompts were chosen through a suggestion poll (in which we recevied 2,281 prompts) and a subsequent vote, where over 1,000 people voted for their favourites. the top 29 make up the core prompts, and a mixture of the next most popular - and this blog's personal favourites - have become the alternates
i’m so excited to see what you all create with these prompts, and hope they’re inspiring enough to trigger a whole month’s worth of creativity for you! if you have any questions, please check out the blog's faq before sending an ask, or check out the previously asked questions on the blog!
please note: this year, notifying the blog of completionist status will happen through a google form that will be released closer to the end of febuwhump.
full write-up of prompts and rules under the cut:
FEBUWHUMP 2024 PROMPTS:
DAY 1: helpless
DAY 2: solitary confinement
DAY 3: "bite down on this"
DAY 4: obedience
DAY 5: rope burns
DAY 6: "you lied to me"
DAY 7: suffering in silence
DAY 8: "why won't it stop?"
DAY 9: bees
DAY 10: killing in self defence
DAY 11: time loop
DAY 12: semi-conscious
DAY 13: "you weren't supposed to get hurt"
DAY 14: blood-stained tiles
DAY 15: "who did this to you?"
DAY 16: came back wrong
DAY 17: hostage situation
DAY 18: too weak to move
DAY 19: "please don't"
DAY 20: truth serum
DAY 21: unresponsive
DAY 22: "you weren't meant to be there"
DAY 23: presumed dead
DAY 24: "i'm doing this because i care about you"
DAY 25: waterboarding
DAY 26: "help them"
DAY 27: left for dead
DAY 28: "no... not like this"
DAY 29: not allowed to die
ALTERNATE PROMPTS:
is there a specific day’s prompt you don’t want to fill? here are ten alternatives you can switch them out for!
ALT 1: human shield
ALT 2: "i love you"
ALT 3: found footage
ALT 4: human weapon
ALT 5: cpr
ALT 6: immortality
ALT 7: last words
ALT 8: killing game
ALT 9: lightning strike
ALT 10: last man standing
RULES:
SOFT RULES:
prompts should be answered in the form of whump
creators can produce whatever kind of media they want
you don’t have to complete all the prompts! you can create however much you want to
you can use the prompts after the event ends and can complete them in tandem with any other event
you can post on any platform you want, however this blog will only be sharing those posted on tumblr
if you want to be featured on the hall of fame then you have until the 3rd of March to inform this blog that you completed all the days
if you have questions consult the faq before asking
HARD RULES: (specifically for being featured on the blog)
when uploading febuwhump content to tumblr, please use the tags:
febuwhump (i’ll also be checking febuwhump2024)
the relevant day’s tag e.g. febuwhumpday1, febuwhumpday2…
nsfw (if relevant)
and any trigger warnings that may be important!
you can also tag the blog, @febuwhump
i cannot guarantee your work will be archived on the blog because I have no idea how many participants there will be. a random selection of works tagged in accordance to the rules above will be reblogged every day of february.
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'*•.¸♡ off-road ride ♡¸.•*'
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
lee minho x fem!reader
a result of the poll win! (car sex w minho)
summary: you and minho are on your way to meet up with your friends, but get distracted along the way.
wc: 3k
warnings: MDNI! 18+, established relationship, dom!minho, brat!reader, a lot of teasing, fingering (f. rec), rough sex, spanking, safeword mentioned (not used), piv, unprotected sex, creampie, riding, choking, overstim, begging, (lmk if i missed any)
a/n: i've been realizing that the poll has been going in age order so far, so i might just release all of the fics in age order to keep the pattern going. also i loved writing this, hopefully next time i can write a fluffier minho smut!!
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The winding roads blurred past as Minho deftly steered the car, the engine's purr adding a soundtrack to your animated voice. Your friend's laughter was bubbling over and filling the car with cheerful energy as you spoke on the phone.
“Mmm, no, we should totally do that next weekend,” you were saying, still chuckling at a joke your friend had made. “I just think we should invite the whole group.”
Lee Know’s jaw tightened. He knew you had been out and about with your friends lately, and he didn’t want to be jealous, but... he was. It felt like you were paying more attention to everyone else lately than to him.
“We’re so close now,” you said, leaning over to Minho to point at the map. You had meticulously planned the route and confidently guided him whenever needed. “Maybe about fifteen minutes away, I'd say.”
“Great,” Minho replied, his voice low and warm, though his eyes betrayed a hint of irritation as he kept glancing at you.
“Hey, hold on, my phone’s going crazy.” You pulled the phone away from your ear, glancing down at the screen. Your eyes went wide, and you started giggling, turning back to look at Minho with a playful smile.
“What?” he asked, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Oh, it’s just my friend being ridiculous.”
“Mm. Can’t leave them hanging, then, right?”
“I guess not.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m still here. We’re so close now.”
“Are you?” your friend purred from the other end, causing you to laugh again.
“Okay, not that close.” You glanced over at Minho, smiling, before focusing on the road.
“Are you sure? Because I was thinking maybe you’d like to come over after the party…”
“Hmmm, and why is that?” You were grinning now, unable to help yourself.
“Well, there’s this guy that’s been flirting with me, and I don’t really like him that way, but I don’t know how to let him down. I was hoping you’d come over and help me out.”
“What’s your plan?” You bit your lip, glancing over at Minho, who was gripping the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white.
“Well, if you’d be willing to kiss me for a while, that might get the message across.”
“You want me to kiss you?” You widened your eyes, Minho’s head snapping towards you, before quickly looking back at the road as if he were pretending he totally wasn’t listening.
You didn’t realize how bad it could sound out of context, and Minho’s frustration was evident.
“Haha, you know I was joking, girl. I’m just not good at confrontation, and I know you are. You know how to bite back at people.”
“I’m not so sure that’s what you meant, but if you need some help, then I’ll be happy to come over.”
“Awesome, thanks. So, I can’t wait to meet Lee Know. You talk about him all the time; he sounds really sweet.” Her tone was sweeter and more sincere.
Suddenly, you felt a warm hand gently land on your thigh, the touch sending a shiver down your spine as it traced teasing patterns on the exposed skin where your skirt had ridden up. Minho's touch was deliberate, and you could feel the heat radiating from his fingers as they traced teasing patterns on your skin.
You turned your head to stare at Minho, whose gaze was locked on the road ahead. His face was impassive, but there was a steely edge to his eyes that betrayed his annoyance.
“Um, yeah,” you managed, feeling Minho’s hand slip higher up your thigh. “He’s great.”
“What’s going on? You okay?” your friend asked, her concern evident in her voice as she picked up on your distracted tone.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, gasping quietly as Minho’s fingers gripped your inner thigh, his touch becoming more insistent.
You grabbed Lee Know’s misbehaving hand before it could go any further. His touch was electrifying, and despite your attempts to focus on the conversation, the heat of his fingers was impossible to ignore.
“Uh, I just... got distracted,” you stammered, trying to keep your voice steady. “We’re almost there, so maybe I should call you back later?”
“Sure, no problem,” your friend agreed, her tone tinged with concern. “Just let me know if you need anything.”
“Will do,” you replied, ending the call quickly. As soon as the phone disconnected, Minho’s hand withdrew, and he turned to you with a look of feigned innocence.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice deceptively casual as he focused on the road ahead.
“I could ask you the same thing,” you shot back, glaring at him but with a teasing glint in your eyes. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Minho said, his lips curling into a playful pout. “I guess I just didn’t like hearing my girlfriend sounding all flirty on the phone with someone else.”
You tried to hold back a laugh, your irritation melting into amusement. “Minho, she was joking with me.”
“Yeah, well,” Minho said, his tone softening as he glanced at you with a hint of vulnerability. “I just want your attention too.”
Your heart melted at his words. The way he looked at you, so earnest and a bit pouty, was impossible to resist.
You grabbed one of his hands, guiding it back to rest on your leg. You could see the way his breath caught in his throat as he realized what you were doing.
His fingers slowly inched up your skirt, brushing over your heated skin. You trembled, attempting to stay quiet as Minho's hands caressed your bare thighs, his touch sending sparks of electricity through your body.
"Baby," you murmured, "I can't have you driving off the road because you're distracted."
"I'm not distracted," Minho insisted, his fingers dancing along the edge of your panties. "I'm focused."
"Really?" You arched an eyebrow, glancing over at him.
"Mm-hmm." His fingers slipped beneath the lace of your panties, brushing against your sensitive flesh.
You gasped, grabbing his wrist to try and still his movements. "Minho," you warned, a slight tremor in your voice.
"What's wrong, baby? Didn't you want me to do this?" he asked, his voice dripping with mock innocence as he slid his finger along your slit.
"Min," you hissed, squeezing your thighs together. The friction of his fingers sent shivers of pleasure through your body, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan.
"That's right," he said. "Don't forget, you're mine."
"Yours," you gasped, arching against him as his finger flicked at your clit.
The sensation was almost too much, and you had to fight the urge to writhe in your seat.
"Good," Minho said, his voice rough with arousal as he pressed his finger deeper, sliding it inside you.
Your head fell back, and you closed your eyes, lost in the feeling of his touch.
"You're so wet," Minho teased. "Just from me touching your thigh?"
"Mm," you whimpered, gripping the armrest as Minho's finger curled inside you.
"Only pay attention to me," he commanded.
You shivered at his possessive words, your back arching against the chair.
"Shit," he murmured, his eyes struggling to stay on the road. "You make me want to pull the car over and fuck you right here."
Your breath hitched, and your core tightened at his words. "Do it," you challenged, your voice shaky.
"What?" he asked, glancing at you briefly.
"Pull the car over," you repeated, "and fuck me."
Minho sucked in a sharp breath, his grip on the steering wheel tightening with tension.
"Don't tempt me," he warned, his voice husky.
"Please," you begged, your body craving his touch. "I want you, Min."
"Be patient," he warned, his finger curling up into you and hitting you in the perfect spot.
You moaned, your head falling back against the seat. "I can't," you whined, your hips rolling against his hand.
"You can, and you will," he said, his thumb brushing over your clit as his index and middle fingers worked their way into you.
"Min, I need it," you groaned, your hips grinding against his hand, seeking relief.
Minho breathed, his fingers thrusting deeper into you, "You're so desperate for me."
"Please," you pleaded, "I'm desperate, I can't hold on."
"You're lucky I'm even entertaining you now," Minho said, his cock obviously hard in his pants.
You could feel the tension in his body and the way his fingers moved inside you with a renewed fervor.
"Don't pretend like you're not just as turned on," you teased, your fingers gripping the armrest as his hand began to pick up its pace.
"I am," Minho conceded, "but I have a little more self-control than you."
"Don't have self-control," you groaned, your hips rocking against his hand as you sought release.
"You're a little slut for my cock, aren't you? Can't even wait." He smirked.
You bit your lip, unable to argue, as his fingers thrust deeper inside you.
"Just give me what I want, Min," you whined, the pressure building in your core.
"So impatient," he said, his fingers curling again, repeatedly hitting the same spot.
You gasped, your back arching as the pleasure overwhelmed you.
"Minho," you pleaded.
"Let go," he commanded, his thumb teasing your clit with purpose.
You cried out, your orgasm crashing over you as his fingers worked you through your high, feeling yourself clench over his fingers.
You whimpered, the aftershocks of your climax making your body tremble with desire.
Minho pulled his hand away, his breath shaky as he brought his fingers up to your mouth.
"Lick it up," he said, his voice low and commanding.
You obliged, licking the salty-sweet taste from his fingers.
"Good girl," he praised, his cock visibly twitching in his pants.
Your body is still aching for him inside of you; just the sight of it makes your mouth water.
"Fuck me," you pleaded. "Please."
Minho shook his head. "I can't do this here, not yet. We're almost there."
"But,"
"Behave and wait," he commanded, his voice firm and unwavering.
You squirmed in your seat, the lingering burn of desire coursing through your body.
"Stop acting like a brat," he scolded.
Your hand meets his thigh now, trailing up.
"Oh, but what if I am?"
"Stop trying to rile me up," he said, his voice like a warning.
You grinned, enjoying the effect you had on him.
"Or what?"
"Or I'll spank you," he threatened, his eyes locking on the road.
You bit your lip, feeling a mischievous idea taking shape in your mind.
"Pull the car over and do it, then," you teased, your hand reaching out to brush against the bulge in his pants, tracing a line down.
Minho hissed, his hips involuntarily jerking against your touch.
"We're going to be late," he warned.
"Let's be late, then."
Minho let out a breath, his knuckles white on the steering wheel as he struggled to maintain control.
"If I pull the car over now, you're going to regret it later."
You bit your lip, playing with your seatbelt.
"Is that a promise?"
"Fine," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You want to be fucked so bad?"
He pulled the car over to the side of the road, putting the car in park, right on a dirt path with only a single tree covering the view.
He unbuckled your seatbelt and picked you up to lay across his lap.
He lifted your skirt and yanked your panties down, and you could feel his erection straining against his pants.
You gasped, feeling the cool air against your ass, exposed and ready.
"You remember the safeword, mm?"
You nodded, a shiver of excitement running down your spine.
"Beg," he ordered, his voice rough and commanding.
"Please," you pleaded, your voice desperate. "Please, fuck me."
"Again."
"Min, please," you moaned, the friction of his cock rubbing against your sensitive spots driving you crazy. "Please, I want your cock. I need it."
"Tell me what a slut you are."
"I'm... " You inhaled sharply, a mix of sensations flooding you as his hand made contact, your thoughts clouding with each touch.
"Say it," he insisted, his hand massaging your reddened cheeks and his fingers pressing into your tender skin.
"I'm your slut," you moaned, the shame and humiliation only making the heat between your legs grow.
"Good girl," he praised, his hand caressing the curve of your ass.
You whimpered, the sensation overwhelming as he teased you.
When he readjusted you to sit in your lap, the sting was evident.
He undid his pants and let his cock spring free. He was huge and throbbing, a bead of precum glistening at the tip.
You couldn't help but stare at the sight of his cock, which sent a jolt of pleasure through your body.
You needed him, you wanted him, and you could barely hold back.
"Fuck me," you whined, desperate for him to fill you up.
He took his time, his cock grinding against your wetness, coating the length of him in your arousal.
"Please," you begged, his cock brushing against your clit, the sensation making you gasp.
"Patient," he warned, his hips rolling forward as his cock rubbed against your folds.
You moaned, the friction against your clit driving you crazy.
"I need you," you pleaded, the ache between your legs becoming unbearable.
He sighed out, the head of his cock finally pressing against your entrance.
You gasped, your body trembling with anticipation as he slowly pushed into you.
The stretch was almost too much, but the pain mixed with pleasure was intoxicating. You whimpered, your walls clenching around him.
You moaned, the sensation of his cock filling you up nearly driving you over the edge.
"Minho, fuck, please move." you pleaded after a few seconds of him settling inside you.
His eyes hit yours like daggers, his stare sharp. "You wanted my cock so bad, so you're going to do it yourself."
You blinked at him, not fully comprehending what he meant.
Minho grabbed your hips, lifting you up and down his shaft.
Your eyes widened, realizing what he meant. You began to move your hips up a little, your hands laid on his chest for support.
"There we go," he cooed, his fingers digging into your hips as you rode him. "Just like that."
You bit your lip, the feeling of his cock hitting you in all the right places driving you crazy.
Leaning forward, he captured your mouth in a hungry kiss. You moaned into his mouth as his cock hit your walls perfectly, eliciting a deep pleasure.
Lee Know broke the kiss, his hand tangling in your hair, pulling your head back.
He kissed your neck, biting the sensitive skin. The pleasure and pain mingled together, making you cry out.
"Keep going," he instructed, his tongue tracing a path along your jawline.
You obeyed, persisting in moving your hips as he drove his cock into you, the angle enabling him to penetrate even deeper.
You moaned, the sensation becoming almost unbearable.
Suddenly, you felt his hand lightly wrap around your neck, the pressure adding to the overwhelming pleasure.
You gasped, the sensation sending a powerful jolt through your body when he lightly squeezed, just enough to drive you wild.
You felt the pressure intensifying, your inner walls starting to flutter around his throbbing cock. Your breathing quickened as you felt yourself nearing the edge, the combination of his touch and the intense stimulation pushing you closer to the brink of ecstasy.
With one final, deep thrust, you felt a wave of pleasure wash over you as you reached your peak, your body wracked with waves of intense pleasure.
Your hips jerked, riding out the aftershocks of your orgasm, and you collapsed against him, completely spent.
Minho grabbed at your hips, continuing to pound deeper into you, his movements becoming more frantic as he chased his own release.
His breathing grew ragged, his hands gripping you tight as he fucked you with renewed vigor, his cock hitting your walls in just the right place, causing tears to form in your eyes from the overstimulation.
Finally, with a moan, his body tensed, his cock twitching inside you as he spilled his release.
After a moment, he pulled out, his breathing heavy as lay his head against the headrest.
Your legs were trembling from the overstimulation, your face was flushed with a tear streaming down, and your hair was tousled.
Not to mention you now had marks on your neck and ass.
You were too tired to move, it felt like your body turned into lead.
He held you in his arms, brushing his fingers through your hair.
You closed your eyes and let the sound of his heartbeat lull you to sleep.
-
"Hey, are you okay?"
You opened your eyes, your vision blurred.
"Huh?"
You looked around and realized you were in your own bed, not the car.
You glanced over at Minho, his gaze soft as he watched you.
"What happened?" you asked, still disoriented.
"You fell asleep on me," he chuckled. "This is why I suggested we don't go all the way..."
The realization fully hit you, you picked up your phone to find multiple messages from your friends telling you to 'get better soon' and others asking where you were.
"Sorry for getting carried away," you apologized, looking down, and feeling slightly embarrassed.
Minho grabbed your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours.
"It's okay, it was worth it."
You looked at him, his eyes full of affection.
You smiled, squeezing his hand.
"I love you."
You leaned over, placing a soft kiss on his lips.
"I love you, too."
He returned the gesture, pulling you close.
The two of you stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other's arms, until Minho's phone began to vibrate.
He glanced at it, sighing.
"It's Chan again."
"We should get going," you said, not wanting to keep them waiting any longer.
"Are you sure about that?" he asked, with the cocky look on his face back again.
You tried to sit up but immediately felt your body protest, the soreness kicking in.
"Fuck," you muttered, flopping back down onto the mattress.
"I did warn you," he smirked, his hands rubbing at your sore legs.
"Don't touch me," you said, trying to swat his hand away.
He laughed, kissing your forehead.
"Don't be mad, I told you this was a bad idea."
You frowned, your heart melting a little at his cute gesture.
"You win."
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#stray kids x reader#skz#skz smut#stray kids#skz imagines#skz x reader#skz lee know#skz lee minho#skz minho#stray kids lee know#stray kids smut#stray kids imagines#minho smut#lee know smut#lee know#lee minho#minho#lee know x reader#lee know stray kids#lee know imagines
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So I have a friend from high school who is a cop. (Yes, I KNOW.) I shared a photo on Facebook of a packed highway of people attempting to evacuate from Hurricane Milton, all while the lanes going in the opposite direction were open and empty. And my Facebook post was basically me screaming, “Open the other side of the highway and reverse it so that people can GET OUT.”
His response was essentially, “Yeah, that is *really* difficult for us to do.” Not in a condescending way, because he genuinely isn’t a huge asshole. (Yes, I KNOW.)
And then I may have vented in my response, in which I tried not to imply that the police were a problem. Because to be honest, I don’t see this as a police problem. I see this as how we have fucked ourselves as a nation by making ourselves so dependent on cars.
There is that poll on this site – or multiple polls, at this point – asking how long people can tolerate being in their cars. And the thing is, Americans (and Canadians as well, I am imagining) have almost no other options. We have to be used to spending a good 12 hours in a car without breaking a sweat. Everything in this country is built around being in a car. There’s a reason when you ask us how far away a place is from somewhere else, we normally give that distance in hours and not miles.
Air travel sucks. It sucks for a multitude of reasons – cost, the hassle of dealing with security, the time suck, etc. – and in an emergency, only a select few are going to be able to use it to get away from a hurricane. And that’s one of the few disasters where air travel is an optional escape.
Train travel sucks. Amtrak is not something you’re gonna be complaining about if you’re trying to get away from whatever disaster you need to evacuate from. But next to so many other countries, Amtrak looks like we’ve been receiving other countries’s leftover railway systems from the 70s. It also doesn’t go everywhere. I live in northeastern Pennsylvania near Scranton, which prides itself on its history in the train industry. We have a museum and everything. We have multiple things named after that museum, including the Steamtown marathon which is happening tomorrow.
Can you get on a passenger train in Scranton? Nope.
(The main argument against this always seems to be that people will come here from New York City and commit crimes, which is hilarious considering if somebody wanted to come here from New York City and commit crimes it’s only a 2.5-hour drive.)
Anyway, disasters.
If the only option you’re gonna give most people to get out of areas of Florida that are being targeted by hurricanes or areas of California that suffer from wildfires or places in the Midwest that face flooding are cars, then we need a better fucking emergency management system regarding transportation in this country. You can’t just sit there and mock people for not evacuating because they can’t or won’t when getting away from Milton meant sitting on highway for hours with absolutely no gas stations whatsoever nearby having any gas at all. (It just makes me think of those photos of people stranded on the highway in their cars in blizzards where people are like, “Now imagine imagine how bad it would be if all of those cars were electric!“ Well, all of those cars in that photo in that blizzard run on gas and they’re fucking stranded, sooooooo.)
Look, we can change the transportation system in this country. we did it before and we can do it again. We used to have more train options, fewer highways. My small hometown had a fucking trolley in the 40s. Now, if you don’t have a car here, you’re stuck. You can’t even get Uber here. if a wildfire started here and surrounded the town, it would be a clusterfuck.
Regardless of how you feel about the police, if police and fire departments in this country cannot organize an evacuation on a highway in a way that will reduce the backup so that tens of thousands of people aren’t sitting in their cars when a hurricane hits, that’s a problem – not just for those people, but for the police, and the fire department, and emergency management in general.
The people in charge of emergency management are just people, just human. I’m researching the Camp Fire in 2018 right now, and you had a bunch of people calling 911 saying, “I can see a huge fire off to the east. Are we safe? Should we evacuate?” The 911 operators could only work off the information they had. They could have told people to evacuate earlier, but Cal Fire didn’t anticipate the strength of the fire. Which is understandable. Nobody could anticipate the strength of that fire. But the 911 operators were sitting in an office with no windows, and they had no idea what was going on the east. They couldn’t look out and see exactly what was happening. If they could have, they probably would have told people to leave as soon as possible much sooner than they were told to. Instead, they waited for official confirmation, and when they did start telling people to evacuate, traffic managed to back up in a small town of 25,000 people until many of them were trapped in an unimaginable hellscape.
When people need to evacuate from a disaster, and they stay instead, far too many people - including those in positions of power – just kind of wave their hands and say, “Well, we tried.” No, we didn’t. This country made not trying its watchword, and now we’re at a point where unless you own a car, which is a luxury a lot of people cannot afford in this economy, escaping from disaster is impossible. So you can get in your car or somebody else’s car and go sit on a highway and hope your gas doesn’t run out, since none of the gas stations for 100 miles have any gas to give you, or you can stay in your house and hope you don’t die.
Sometimes, I really wish somebody would make me the head of the department of transportation. I would demand an absurd amount of money to build a better train system, to provide better transportation options for smaller towns, to provide extensive training for rescue personnel in managing evacuations like the clusterfuck in Florida this week. I would become an absolute fucking nuisance to Congress. I would be asking for money left and right to make it so that our only options as Americans weren’t to get into cars we can barely afford these days and attempt to organize our own evacuations from the growing number of natural disasters in this country.
Y’all keep posting these polls about how long you can tolerate being in a car at the same time that tens of thousands of Floridians were sitting on highways trying to get away from Tampa so they wouldn’t die in a hurricane.
We can tolerate being in a car all goddamn day. It’s because we don’t have a fucking choice, even when it’s life or death.
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Reckless (m)
Pairing: adult actor!mingyu x pervert afab!reader Genre: smut Word count: 4.8k tags: camboy!mingyu, established friendship, banter, brat!reader, glass toys, invasion of privacy, rough play, anal, double penetration, degradation (pervert, slut), choking, spanking, spitting, oral (giving and receiving), swallowing, hair pulling, deep throating Summary: Mingyu is a camboy and proud of it, as he should. Finally, he's getting the applause he deserves for his work and will be attending one of the biggest adult industry events to date. He just needs you to watch over while his house while he's gone. Easy enough, right? Unbeknownst to him, you happened to be a fan. A big one. One so big that you cant help but take advantage what Mingyu fans have only ever dreamed of. author note: finally the awaited winner, camboy!mingyu! still so crazy he won over multiple reverse harems on the poll. tagging my wife @wongyuseokie because it's her birthday and deserves to wake up with some NASTY mingyu smut. thank you @highvern for beta-reading to better this fic and like both of us are saying, mingyu is a fucking freakkk in this so enjoy my babies.
Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @cottoncheol @embrace-themagic @onlymingyus
You have only seen the room in passing personally, but countless times over video. You’re not even shocked by the dozens of expensive toys he’s put in those glass displays, so used to seeing them enter a human orifice one way or the other. The burly man bashfully guides you away from the scandalous room, skillfully diverting your attention to the lush foliage he's entrusted you to tend to, a gentle blush adorning his warm-toned cheeks.
How you keep the fact that you have been secretly watching your friend’s cam shows–including the charity stream of him doing push ups in a singular pair of skintight briefs–was a mystery, even to you.
It’s not like you meant to get addicted to porn. But Mingyu, unapologetic about his line of work, practically served it up on a silver platter for you. He says he could use all the help he could get, but frankly, he couldn’t have it more easy.
With that body, that hair, that face, that smile, there’s no doubt in your mind he’d be a fan favorite and you were right. He’s now one of the rising adult content creators in his line of work, heavily acclaimed in the cam category and recently in independent film. That’s what his trip is about, awarding him for his hard work that he never thought he’d accomplish.
It fills you with pride, yet piques your curiosity; fusing platonic and sensual feelings that blur the lines between friendship and desire for Mingyu, actualizing this full fledged crush. But you’d never let him find that out. Not unless it was against your will.
“And that’s pretty much it. Everything else is pretty self-explanatory. I’ll be back on Tuesday.”
“Tuesday, hmm?” Your eyebrows bounce in place suggestively. “Thinking of pursuing personal projects while working?”
He shrugs like a timid schoolboy, cheekbones pigmented and perky like bright ripe cherries. “No promises—Now, repeat back to me everything I’ve told you to do.”
You playfully roll your eyes, offended he had the gall to doubt you. “Water each green buddy once a day; keep crumbs off tables, counters, furniture, etc; put everything back where it should be; and,” you start to grin, “no sex parties, even though this is the perfect place for it.”
“Okay, that last one was obviously a joke but very much serious. Although tempting, under any circumstances, do not fuck anyone in this house while I’m gone.”
“So circumstances would be different if you were home?”
Getting a shade brighter in red, he points a demanding finger at you like a stern mother, “I mean it.”
“Yes, mom,” sarcasm coating your tongue.
“Good.”
Mingyu, armed with a suitcase containing all his essentials, casually waves you off. There's a playful authority in the final point of his finger, a silent reminder to behave before he disappears behind the imposing door.
You promise him you’ll do your due diligence in taking care of his home, and that would be an easy enough task, the real problem stems from the temptation of one specific room. Mingyu’s cam room.
Distinct from the usual rooms such as the bathroom, Mingyu's kitchen, and his primary bedroom, this space stands alone, akin to an office. Mingyu himself has shared its origin story: starting from the sweetest of riddances of a god-awful roommate, followed by many desperate nights to cover the remaining monthly rent, ultimately giving birth to this room that many of his fans like to call ‘Sinner’s Safehaven.’ So rightfully acclaimed.
You’re a fan of yourself, able to outline the bedroom from memory and recollect every toy from every live stream he’s ever posted. Unable to resist the temptation, your feet instinctively embark on a self-guided tour. Your eyes are bewitched by the intricacies of every weapon of pleasure, every scent of his array of miscellaneous liquids, every phallic-shaped object that stands tall and mighty like a national monument.
It’d be a lie to say you weren’t tempted to take advantage of the opportunity, maybe just to get the sick idea out of the way. Your hands manage to find a mind of their own, reaching over to unlock one of the glass displays, wrapping your hand around the object’s girth, and taking it out from its confinement for a closer view.
A stunning crystal toy that reflects off the lights of the room, looking in pristine condition as if fresh from packaging. If Mingyu is good at one thing it’s maintaining his tools, and he does not let anyone forget.
Ever since he showcased it on screen, you've desired to covet one just like it, inducing a late-night web surf to discover the outrageous out-of-reach prices for a product of such exceptional quality and aesthetic appeal. It does not look to be in the cards for you to own one, but borrowing wouldn’t be a problem. He did say everything only needed to be put back in place and what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
Following the devilish voice whispering in your ear, you slip into something more comfortable, letting the well-conditioned air blow a draft against your bare legs. You hold the toy excitedly before dipping your weight in the bed, the silk sheets and pillowy cushion embracing you at all sides.
The knowledge that the infamous crystal dildo is in your hand makes your heart pound and pussy throb. You can count all the videos of it being featured with one hand, and despite it all, you know it had to be Mingyu's favorite.
One particular video comes to mind as you hold the tip against your inner thigh, moving it identical to the way Mingyu held it against him, realizing they are coincidentally the same length, same girth, and same tantalizing presence. You practically dreamed of having him and this toy inside of you for months after that show and now half of that dream would be possible.
Your fingers didn’t have to be inside you to know you’re wet, practically soaked through your panties the moment you laid eyes of Mingyu and his sex room. Fuck, if you aren’t so damn ashamed of the truth of your feelings, you’d never let him out of your sight.
A long note of your moan exhales as you insert the tip between your wet folds, introducing the strangest yet arousing thing to be done to you. It’s certainly big as you expect it to be, maybe even more as you plunge it in deeper. Affirmations exit your lips in short bursts, your other hand up your shirt as they tease your nipples through your bra.
Your legs crutch in reaction to its ridged shape massaging your walls, then the cool hard surface finds that familiar hotspot, unfortunately only halfway down its length. Your cheeks flush imagining Mingyu’s face, imagining the words to come out of those lips if it were his cock.
‘Already? I haven’t even put it all in yet.’
It fuels your determination, deadset in taking all of it—all of him.
‘You can do it, can't you? You can take my cock for me?’
Somewhere, lost in the contagious air of sex and starvation, your mind runs rampant. Your hips buck into the crystal, letting it settle inside you all the way before you thrust it harder. You hiss at its size, expelling a moan once you no longer feel its shaft around your fingers and just take it, take it as if it a canine smile were on the other end.
‘So good…so good at taking all of my cock.’
“I am being good,” you mumble under your breath. “So good...”
Your whimpers go unnoticed by you, only worried of the dildo carrying on its mission. Sensation running down your legs and arms, and your hips hover over the mattress. Your back arches and you spell his name out in the only way the body fully intends you to: in longing breaths, “Mingyu…please…”
‘What? What is it?’
You groan at the image of his smile. “Let me cum please…”
‘Do you deserve it?’
“Yes, Gyu, please…” You thrust faster. “Oh my god—“
‘Yes, that’s it. That pretty pussy should cum all over my hard fucking cock.’
“Yes, yes!” Your arousal seeps all around you, a visible stain beneath your thighs and you don’t care. “God, right there! Right there—“
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Then it becomes no longer your imagination. The voice you’ve created in your mind had an echo, lingering in the depths of your filth rotted head, but the one you just heard had to be the original.
You scramble to hide under the sheets, eyes as big as saucers as the man of your fantasy stands clear in your reality at the foot of his bedroom. “M-Mingyu. The train.”
“I forgot some things. Couldn’t leave without them, so I told the driver to turn back.” He peers over your situation, intrigued by your legs folded on top of one another beneath the covers, the proof trepidation of your forehead, and your lips swollen from instinctive biting. “What do we have here?”
You laugh nervously, unprepared for the shitshow soon to arise. “I see how this looks—“
“Looks like you’ve had a bit of fun.” He huffs with his arms crossed as he approaches, the human made stain plain in sight on his bed sheets which you’ve fail to cover up. “Too much maybe. And all by yourself.”
“Well, you see—“
“And the mess you made.” His hand pushes against the mattress, leaning over to your side and drinking in your view. “All over my bed. All over my Crystal dildo.”
You avoid his gaze, wishing to disappear in a cloud of smoke right about now. “Okay. You can understand how this would bother you.”
“Oh I’m not bothered by it—not in the slightest—but…you could’ve at least waited until I came back.”
Mingyu pulls the sheets off of you and he exposes your guilt, seeing it in its raw, glistening glory. His eyes scan over you, swallowing at that scent revealed, and a fire lights up in his stomach. “Dirty little pervert can’t stop saying my name while using my toy, hmm? Don’t you know better to touch things that don’t belong to you?”
“I…I…I’m sorry,” You squeak.
“Well, I can’t just let this go now, can I?”
You shake your head, breathing through your nose. You’re scared of him hearing how fast your heart has decided to pound, how wet you’ve become well after your orgasm, and how dry your throat is after you heard him call you a pervert.
Wordlessly, he takes the glass dildo from your fingertips, claiming what’s rightfully his, and plunging between his lips halfway down its shaft. Your eyes capture it in full color, reveling in the moan that slips past his lips. Your chest rises and falls watching him take it deeper almost effortlessly as his slack cladded knees dip into the mattress.
“Mmh…who knew a pervert’s pussy could taste so sweet,” he mumbles, smiling into the toy. It leaves his mouth with a pop before it aims back at you. “Taste it. Taste how sweet your dirty pussy is all over my cock.”
Your stomach coils, reluctantly obliging to crack open your mouth. Mingyu hums, content with what he sees as he eases the toy towards your mouth. “Don’t be shy. Take my crystal cock, perv.”
Your lips wrap around the head, tasting the salty, faintly sweet, flavor lingering on the glass before it travels past your lips.You look back at him, almost as if waiting for his instruction, and receive a stroke on the back of your head as a response.
“That’s it. Let it go deep down your throat. Have to make up for ruining my bed, right?”
You nod, unable to speak as you bob down, licking up what you can and collecting every inch of the toy. His eyes become a dark pit that stares back at you, dominance taking over his entire presence. He doesn’t speak, only watches and for what feels like forever, pushing the toy in and out of your mouth.
Your muffle around its girth, tears starting to brim your eyes as it hits the back of your throat, but it doesn’t falter Mingyu in the slightest.
"You're crying. Does it hurt?" Mingyu asks in a domineering tone, to which you nod. "Do you want me to stop?" he inquires, to which you shake your head.
His lips graze your ear, and you sense his charming smile whispering against your skin as he replaces the imaginary devilish voice with his very real and alluring one. “Then deep throat it like you mean it, you fucking slut.”
Your lips parted wider, a shattered moan aches out, only to have the toy stuck down your throat long enough for your tears to sting. Gasping for air, Mingyu finally shows mercy and unplug your airways. Coughing uncontrollably, salvia dribbles down your chin as you retrieve your stolen oxygen. His hand tenderly caresses at the back of your head, threading through the tangles of your hair.
“Good job,” he says in a hushed voice, picking your face up by your chin. “Now. Do you think that was an appropriate punishment?”
He tucks your hair behind your ear, lethally silent as he anticipates your response.
It takes you a moment to realize where you are, who you're with, and what this all meant for you. Mingyu’s cam persona has haunted your inner thoughts, degrading you as if you were scum, tossing your body like a rag doll, marking and bruising your skin only he would find, and you relished in every earth-shattering, mind-blowing orgasm it’s caused. You’d be a fool to say otherwise.
“N-no. It’s not enough.”
“Is that so,” He questions amused. Slowly, his hand travels from your hair to your face, tracing your jaw in a languid movement and coming across your neck to size it in his large hand. “What will be enough for you exactly?”
The pad of his fingers presses the slightest amount of pressure on the column of your neck, emerging a gasp so soft Mingyu almost doesn't register it. He grins, hot breath fanning your face as he watches your legs squirm. It comes as a surprise to you when he single-handedly pins your body against the bed frame, leveraging you against it before he comes down and faces your pussy drowning its own cum.
“I should at least have compensation done for the damage you’ve made, don’t you think?”
He grips your neck a fraction tighter before you feel his mouth make contact with your core. Physically vibrating, you feel the sensation of his tongue flicking at your clit, and visibly melt before he explores down. “You’re so fucking wet,” he chuckles condescendingly through your arousal. “If I knew any better I’d think you’re wet because of me, as if the screaming of my name wasn’t proof enough.”
“Mingyu...” you whine through your ceased breath.
“And you sound so pretty when you say my name too,” He groans as inhales your scent that blurs his surroundings, devouring you inside and out. “Fucking tease…taste so damn good.”
Mingyu’s chokehold loosens to cascade down your body, fingers moving like ribbons tracing your shape and memorizing every bump and curve through the thin layer of your shirt. Your voice gives out, clenching your fists as he explores you in swirls, moisture seeping out of your cunt but never ending and leaving you in an endless loop of pleasure.
He holds you up by your legs, your thighs crushing either side of his face as he buries himself in your insatiable pussy while its dripping down his chin and neck. He groans inside you, mustering every impish sound possible as he eats you clean, not minding how you’re at the end of your wits locking his head in place.
“G-gyu, shit,” you sputter. “I’m c-close.”
He simply scoffs, “Good,” plunging his tongue deeper, nose pushing against your swollen clit. Words stay lodged down your throat, trapped from escaping as you writhe in his grip and he swallows the taste of you succumbing to his control. You aren’t aware of the eyes watching every second of you give in, how they beam with pride and greed as he goes for more. The notes of fruit and musk only makes Mingyu’s craving intensify, unwilling to surrender the sweet nectar once he’s gotten his taste.
With a yelp, he drops your legs and tugs you toward him, rendering you defenseless as he's clamped either of your side. You drink in his body towering over you as he swiftly pulls his shirt over his head and off his body, bestowing you a deific image that you never grow tired of.
“Shall I help you undress?” He offers, kindly for once.
You drop your head in a reluctant nod and your heart swells at the sight of his smile before they capture your lips, tasting yourself on his tongue.
Mingyu’s movement isn’t needy, it’s efficient and effective. Salty peppermint kisses and hands that move gingerly with ease culminate proof of a man that has countless amounts of partners and endless experience. Almost as if he’s ready for any and every given opportunity and you more than believe it.
Seeing as he knows how to handle himself, undoubtedly that meant he’d know how to handle you. That rouses you, anticipation resonating in the pit of your stomach, and like that, you’ve embraced your nudity just as Mingyu has in the safety of his firm arms.
He manages to kick off his pants, freeing him of the restraint of fabric and his hips dip into yours. And again and again. And again and again. Just to show you what you’ve created in your messy experiment.
If you weren’t already hot under his touch, you swear the room was hotter than any vast desert. Perspiration sprayed against your back, your forehead, your chest, but strangely you’re obsessed with his and the incidentally salty taste of his skin as you kiss. “You feel huge,” you mutter in a flustered breath.
His cock pulsates through his briefs against your thigh, screaming to join the party and make himself known in ways he hasn’t shown yet. Not yet with you. He smiles against your lips, grasping your hips more firmly. More definitely. “It’s too soon to be saying that.”
“Then…” Your fingers, tantalized by the appearance of his styled hair, didn’t resist the urge to comb through it, pleasantly surprised with the silky, pliable sensation. “I hope I get to soon.”
“Pervert,” he repeats with a grin. His hand wraps around your wrist, pulling it away from his head and landing on the hem of his underwear. Mingyu is good at getting back on track as he immediately pulls his waistband away from torso, springing his cock that stands in your direction in determination. A familiar yet foreign sight that you never expected to be on the other end of. “By the way, don’t forget. You’re making it up to me. Not the other way around.”
Naturally, your hand finds the ridged texture of his shaft. “Yes, of course.” You feel it twitch under his touch, growing as a nail trails up a singular vein. “But I never said I’d make that easy.”
“Really? A sentence where ‘you’ and ‘easy’ just seems to fit.”
You sneer at him, calming down after seeing an amicable jab you’re used to. “You’re one to talk.”
“And I won’t be done talking. On your knees,” He demands.
“Or what?”
Mingyu isn’t new to your taunting but he can't help the steam coming out of his ears this time around. Gathering your weight, he swiftly turns you on your stomach and props you up as his cock settles between the cheeks of your ass. “I’ll do things like that. I’m patient until I’m not. Not when it comes to perverted brats like you.”
You voluntarily moan as you back into him, allowing the cock to slide up and down. “I’d like to see it. Unless you’re all talk.”
A familiar coolness of glass finds itself home in your sopping cunt. You mewl at the sensation, rolling your eyes to the back of your head. The side of your head braces for the bed and letting the toy suction your pussy, buzzing . “Fuck…”
“Spoke to soon, didn’t you?”
“Have—fuck—mercy…” Your words speak like pleads but your body could not be more delightful in taking every inch, adjusting from the backside in record time.
“See? Look at you take all that cock,” he spits in the smack center, rubbing around your rim and pussy thoroughly. “And knowing you and our conversations, I know you can take it well somewhere else. Isn’t that right?”
“Y-you wouldn’t…”
“I can. Unless…that’s not what you want. Unless you want me to leave this room without putting my cock in you and not fuck you like the dirty fucking slut you are.”
“Fuck…you…” The glass vanished through you, reappearing at Mingyu's will, muffling your protests, and swallowing the glass dildo satisfyingly from your cunt. The bedsheets become balls in your hand, wrinkled and worn, just as you planned to be after Mingyu is through with you.
“That’s not an answer.” He teases, thrusting faster.
“Shit…fuck…Yes please fuck, I want it. I want more. Please…”
“Excited are you, pervert?” He inquires, managing to grab the lube from a nearby drawer and squirt it on the ring of your hole. The bite of the cool gel stings in a way that’s familiar, but does not grow any easier as it physically and mentally preparing you.
“You…suck…Kim Mingyu…”
“I’ve already done that already, perv.”
Taking the crystal dildo out of your pussy, he carefully sets it aside, prepping your untouched hole for entry and feeling you clenched around his fingers. “So tight. What? Did you lie and you’re actually an anal virgin.”
“I’m not,” you moan in defense, hearing the erotic squelching burns your ears and makes your already hot skin scorching to the touch. His fingers are tolerable, but still bigger you’re used to and it’s more apparent as he inserts another finger. “I just never had anything that big. Nothing your size.”
“I’m honored.”
You hope that his cock could fuck you the way his fingers does, if not then better, already buzzing at the pace they move inside you, stretching you wider and wider.
“F-fuck off.”
“Not yet. It’s coming.” You feel the head of the dildo perk up your rim as it eases in you, the drip of lube between your cheeks drowning your hole and all the moisture it could ask for. Still, Mingyu is careful to adjust to your preference, opening you up and seeing how the toy slowly destroys you inside and out.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your hands slam against the bed, allowing the gradual introduction to take over all your senses.
“You’re taking the cock so well up your ass, fuck. I haven’t seen anyone do that yet. Remember you talking about it, made curious if you actually could.”
“I don’t lie…about stuff…like that…” you spread your ass, offering the perfectly lewd view for Mingyu, practically dripping all for him.
“Shit, I need to be inside you.”
He rolls a condom on his length, tossing the wrapper where he doesn’t see it and teases your slit moist in your cum. In the midst of it, you feel the tip of his cock rubbing your clit, and your whine ensue as you wait for more, not properly being used to the full advantage. Mingyu laughs to himself, seeing how desperate you look, reveling in the sounds that leave your body as it fuels his cock before he plunges inside you.It's an indescribable sensation, almost sacrilegious in its intensity, yet it leaves you convinced that Heaven must reside wherever Mingyu is.
You thought you knew the meaning of being spit open until it’s Mingyu reintroducing the idea. His cock and toy planted so deep inside you, fucking both of your holes until you’re rendered into like what he calls you, a perverted little slut. You don't mind in the slightest; in fact, when the thoughts swirling through your mind are nothing but incoherent, you're utterly indifferent to anything else. Your state of matter was to be fucked, double fucked, and fucked to ruin until you’ve come over and over again.
“Stupid slut…stupid…perverted…fucking slut…Look at you…you like getting fucked in the pussy and ass, hmm?”
“Yes god yes,” you confirm, devoid of words otherwise.
He smacks you full against the cheek, groaning into the sex thicken air as he melts into your body like butter. “Yeah? How does it make you feel?”
“Full…”
“You like that?” Another smack to your ass. “Fucking pervert likes being fucked full. Big fucking surprise.”
His thrusts grow rough, already annoyed by the toy in his hands when he’s eager to plant both on your body and fill the full extent of your body. “God you’re hot,” he mumbles, “Why does a pervert like you get to be so hot, hmm?” He rams into you, feeling you jump back against him.
“Makes me want to fucking drain my cock in you, but no, I have—“ he slams again, a burst of ache living your lips, “—Work! God, I fucking needed this. I needed you and every inch before I needed to leave.”
You’d respond if you weren’t so occupied. He drowns your thoughts out every second he’s inside you, to the point nothing else exists.
“Shit, I have work,” Mingyu repeats as if dawning the thought for the first time. He lets go of the toy and manages to direct it with his thrusts, moving him and the toy into you at the same pace. You scream at him, shattered breaths taking over you, and his name is the only consistent, as you spread yourself wider to take it, left with only the base of the toy and the end of Mingyu’s shaft.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you whine incessantly, shaking and bucking into him until you cum all over his cock, undoubtedly flooding and dripping down the side of your legs.
But Mingyu takes his time and it tastes sweet than any candy, fucking your pussy and ass deeper, harder until his mind as gone as yours is. “Shit, shit, shit. Turn around and look at me.”
You do as told, dildo still in the pocket of your ass, as his cock is aimed at your lips, the condom abandoned just like its wrapper. His hands run in your hair, gripping from the root and he pushes you over the head of his cock, groaning as more pretty souvenir images for him to look back on. “Look at you. Good at taking cock there too?”
You nod, mumbling a confirmation before Mingyu penetrates deeper, noticing him lodged in you throat before bucking his hips in your mouth. “Then take it. Take all of my cum. Can’t leave another mess behind.”
Wide eyes of mischief look back at him, holding him by the back of his cock as you bob against him. He grips tighter to the back of his head, pulling and tugging as your hair become the size of his fists and you feel him hit the back of your throat. He now sees the white of your eyes, the flare of your nostrils, the quiver of jaw before it overwhelms him.
“Fuck, take it.” The load builds up to its full intensity, intoxicating him until theirs tears even in his eyes, the kind that supersedes one of joy.
You hold his hips with both spreadhands, welcoming his release with closed eyes. You mouth gets flooded, blown up so full you’re close to choking, gagging from the contents dispersed in you.
“Take it,” Mingyu says fatigued. “You don’t have to swallow it, but take it.”
But you do swallow it, what you could anyway, and it’s inevitable that you’re a coughing mess when you unlatch from him, dribbling in a concoction of your bodily fluids and cum running along your torso, cunt, and legs.
“Okay,” Mingyu pants, “Now I really need to get to that train.”
You’re catching your breath as he cleans himself off with wet paper towels he had on hands, cleaning off the work of his cock but leaving the rest of him untouched. It’s fine, however, seeing as he glows with an air of lust, making him more charismatic than he normally did, and you’re brimming with pride knowing you’ve caused it. “I’m surprised you have that much energy off camera.”
“It helps, that it’s you.” He timidly admits, raising the temperature in your body. “And who said we’re off camera.” He points to the security camera at the corner of his room, reminding you too late that he’s used to using more than one camera to capture any and all angles. “I even forgot about it for a second.”
“Oh.”
“I can delete it if you want.”
“No it’s okay, but um….Send me a copy.”
#svthub#mingyu smut#kim mingyu smut#seventeen smut#kim mingyu#mingyu#seventeen#seventeen fanfic#seventeen x reader#svt#mingyu x reader#mingyu x you#mingyu x y/n#mingyu scenarios#mingyu imagines#seventeen mingyu#seventeen kim mingyu#seventeen x you#seventeen x y/n#mingyu fanfic#kim mingyu x reader#kim mingyu x you#kim mingyu x y/n
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Minotaur!König
Story from the poll!
MDNI🔞
Master List ✍🏽
>cw: fem/afab, sacrifice, virginity loss, p in v, breeding kink, captive
1.4k word count
🐂
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Eight of you, four men and four women, were selected from the people of Crete as virgin sacrifices. Your father came to you as you washed clothes, grabbing you by your arm and dragging you with him. A disappointment, never married and never left home. He had seen you being a sacrifice as giving your life meaning. No pleading could stop what has already been put into progress. The King wouldn’t change his mind over some young woman’s tears.
In front of a crowd, you stand with your wrist bound, tied at the waist to the other sacrifices. Family members mourn for their loved ones while others just look at the group with empathy, some even amusement. The man beside you stands shaking more than yourself, his eyes wide with fear. If it weren’t for the restraints, he would have probably run away by now.
You dissociate from the moment; your parents are nowhere to be found in the crowd; you’re completely alone now. This is how it ends for you, walking on trembling legs into the labyrinth. One by one, you were released from your restraints and sent into the darkness. A few people run, the adrenaline in their bodies taking over from fear of certain death. You stand, lingering in the pitch black as you let your senses get used to it.
The loud sounds of people screaming in fear echo off of every corner, you can’t seem to point where anyone is. You stumble in the pitch black, keeping your hands out to feel for anything. Once you find a wall, you walk with your fingers grazing the cold stone. Time doesn’t seem to pass through the labyrinth as you aimlessly wander deeper into its depths.
Everything became quiet after a while. No one has stumbled across the beast and your body begins to grow tired from hours of walking. You wonder if there even is a Minotaur, or if this is just some tall tale and you're meant to starve down here; in a way that almost sounds worse. There is no one around you, so you decide to rest. Your body slides down the wall you’ve been following, letting out a deep sigh.
A loud blood-curdling scream pulls you from your slumber. Your body jerks forward as another scream is let out, followed by a beastly grunt. The Minotaur. All you can do is sit there and listen as one of the people that you came down here with are devoured by him. Silent tears fall down your eyes, knowing that will be your fate, eventually.
Eventually, the screaming stops and you're left with only the sounds of footsteps from people rushing to try to find the way out. While you’re consumed with a hopeless feeling, you know you can’t give up just yet. You stand up and push yourself to keep moving forward.
There is an uneasy feeling that washes over you, as if you’re being followed. You keep looking over your shoulder and holding your breath just to try to hear footsteps but there is nothing. The wall leads you to a head end, another solid cold wall in front of you, forcing you to turn around.
“Hello?” You call out into the darkness before you step forward.
A low huff responds to you as König gets closer, his pale blue eyes seeing you clearly in the pitch black. He can sense your fear as he slowly approaches you, yet you remain still. You aren’t screaming or panicking nor attempting to flee. Soon enough the heat radiation from his massive 8-foot-tall frame radiates over your body, a welcomed feeling in this cold hellscape.
You’re surprisingly calm, accepting death as he stands before you. One of his hands reaches out, touching the soft fabric of the dress that drapes loosely across your body. He tugs gently, stripping it from your body. Instinctively, you move your hands to try and cover up your breasts, but he stops you; a low grunt comes out as if he’s trying to communicate with you, but struggling.
König wraps one arm around your waist, and pulls you to him. His coarse fur rubbing against your delicate skin as his musk consumes your nostrils. He looks down at you, examining your expression before letting his eyes drift down your body. Another low rumble leaves his throat as his hand drafts lower to caress the supple flesh on your rear. König is still half man, his heart aches for companionship the same way anyone else might.
Almost as if he’s scared to hurt you, he lifts you in his arms and sits down with you on the floor. He nuzzles his massive head against your chest, his long tongue lazily licking across the side of your breasts causing your body to react with desire. You try your best to hold back small whimpers as he flicks over your nipple while his hands caress your whole body.
Underneath your lap you can feel his erection twitch, desperate to be inside of you. He lazily begins to rock you back and forth, holding your hips tightly to keep you in place. Your pussy already soaking wet leaves a trail of your sweet juices along his bare cock. A moan escapes you as your leg twitches from how sensitive your clit is, you’ve never been touched like this before and it all felt like heaven; even if it’s from a beastly man. You caress König, feeling his face up to his horns. When he feels your small hand tug on his horn, he lets out a low growl and thrust his hips up more against you.
In a swift motion he leans back more, lifting your body to position the head of his monstrous cock at the entrance of your virgin pussy. A sudden fear comes over you as you’re faced with the reality that you’re about to be taken by a minotaur. What happens if you tear in half from his size? Or worse, have to bear his children.
Your hands press against his chest as thoughts consume your mind. König holds you tightly, not willing to let you go. It’s not often someone is calm enough to let him approach like this and he’s desperate for your love.
“No.” His voice is gruff and low as he speaks, surprising you. “Mine.”
For a moment you pause, realizing he is more human than you assumed him to be. König pushes up as he sits you down; with his eagerness, your comfort isn’t on his mind. A loud crying moan echoes all around you into the tunnels of the labyrinth as he deflowers you. His eyes flutter closed as he feels how tight you are, your pussy fluttering as you try to adjust to having him inside of you.
His hips thrust up into you at a merciless pace, causing your pained moans to continue as loud grunts harmonize with you. It’s not his intention to hurt you, with his inexperience and strong desire mixed together he just doesn’t even think about any pain he could possibly be causing. The others can hear the thunderous slapping of his hips meeting yours, causing confusion across everyone.
König’s tongue leaves a wet trail across your neck as he tastes you, he can feel your body relax in his hands so his grip relaxes as well. Instead of trying to run from his cock, you bounce in rhythm with his thrust. He rests his head back against the wall and lets go of your hips, allowing you to bounce freely. Your hands reach out to grab his horns again, holding tightly as you bounce slowly at first, getting yourself used to the motion.
His legs jerk slightly, the sight of your breast swirling and the feeling of your pussy devouring his cock. The motions you make are so eager, it’s clear that you’re enjoying this; enjoying him. He’s finally found a mate, a wife, and he isn’t going to let you go.
Your hands hold tightly onto his horns as you bounce your ass on his cock. You surprise yourself as your pussy sits almost all the way down on him. His hands gently trace along your body, committing every piece of you to his memory.
As your movements slow to a stop, he can feel your silky walls clenching even tighter around him. He quickly moves forward to lay your body on the icy floor; he draws his hips back before slamming them into you. Your whole-body trembles underneath him as he watches your eyes flutter, such a beautiful sight to see.
Before he cums, he shoves himself painfully deep into you. The thought of keeping you down here and having a baby of his own excites him, even if it’s selfish. His cock throbs, coating your fertile walls with his seed.
#konig#konig x reader#könig#konig cod#könig x reader#konig x y/n#konig smut#könig cod#könig mw2#könig smut#könig call of duty#konig call of duty#cod konig#cod smut#cod könig#konig mw2#x reader#reader smut#konig x reader smut#smut#konig x you#könig x y/n#könig x you
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Terms of Endearment
DESCRIPTION: You call them by a term of endearment without realising
WARNINGS: none that come to mind.
CHARACTERS: Law, Kid, Shanks, Marco, Zoro | Ace, Sabo, Luffy
WORDS: 2,943
A/N: I decided to use Zoro as the final character. Since he and Ace tied in the poll, I might make a second one of these and use Ace and any others people may want.
*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*
MASTERLIST
———————
LAW
He knew it was irrational to be jealous of an inanimate object. Law knew that it’d be childish to use his Devil Fruit to take it out of your hands and claim your attention for himself. While he had enough restraint to not do that, the temptation to do so was still there. His eyes zeroed in on the book in your hand. He glowered and wondered if it was really that good, did it really deserve such intense, rapt attention that you were giving it. Your eyes were alight as you took in the words, your fingers already tucked behind the next page and ready to turn it as quickly as possible. Law watched you carefully, almost praying for your expression to turn to one of sudden boredom but it didn’t come.
He supposed he was to blame this time, a lot of this was new to him. While your relationship had only turned to a romantic one recently, you’d both been close for a lot longer. Long enough for you both to be able to spend time together while doing entirely separate things. You only pulled your book out because he had medical charts to look over and update. Law made a mental note to try a bit harder from now on to make the time you had together one of quality.
Finally he sat back in his seat and rubbed his eyes, letting them relax from pouring over the extensive pages now neatly piled on his desk. Slowly he stood and walked to the sofa you were perched on, unmoving and seemingly unaware he was approaching. Law tried to bite back his jealousy once more, wondering how annoyed you’d be if he ‘accidentally’ sent that blasted book out into the depths of the ocean.
When he sat down in the space beside you, he smiled softly when you leant back so you were against his side. One of your hands dropped to rest on his arm that was around your waist, your fingers lightly making soothing patterns against his tattooed skin. Law supposed this did count as quality time since it meant he could relax with you in a way he couldn’t with anyone else. He allowed himself the time to settle further against the cushion and press his lips against the back of your head. “Don’t forget you and Bepo are on duty tonight.” He reminded you, still having to act as your Captain when necessary.
“Yes, love.” Your answer was light and casual that he didn’t realise what you’d said at first. Then it echoed in his head ‘love.’ His eyes widened and he peered at the back of your head. There was no way he misheard that. You’d called him love, not Law, not Captain. Love. There was no mistaking the way his heart skipped a beat in reaction. It sounded so right, so effortless the way you said it and he found himself wanting to hear it again. It was also clear that from your lack of reaction, you hadn’t realised what you’d called him because you were partially distracted. Law smirked and for a moment reconsidered his earlier distaste. Perhaps your book wasn’t so bad after all.
KID
Kid didn’t want to admit it but he was powerless against you. He was stubborn and hotheaded and did what he wanted even if someone had sound logic to convince him whatever he had planned wasn’t wise. If anything if someone did attempt that nonsense with him, he’d be even more extreme with his conviction to do as he wanted and would even think of a way to make his actions even more outlandish and dangerous. Even Killer had a hard time keeping the captain in a somewhat mature state of mind. You however were a different story. Anything you wanted, it was yours all you had to do was ask.
Kid just never knew how to let you know that was the dynamic between you both. He was never afraid to speak his mind, if anything he yelled it to ensure everyone knew his thoughts. Yet he seemed to bite his tongue from confessing how he truly felt with you. He’d much rather have you beside him every day and enjoy the playful teasing and jokes than make things real and risk you not seeing him that way. Killer had told him one night to just confess already and trust that you felt the same. Kid had rolled his eyes and promptly kept his feelings buried in his chest. It was better, they were safer there than spoken out loud and unable to take them back.
He walked into the kitchen one evening to see you and Killer preparing the crew’s dinner. You looked over at the sound of his naturally heavy steps coming closer and smiled in greeting to see him stop in the doorway. “Here to help, Captain?” You asked, already knowing the answer before it came. Your smile grew when Kid let out a loud laugh and made a show of folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the doorframe.
“Not unless you want me to poison the crew.” He smirked.
“You’d nurse us back to health if you did infect us though, right?” You joked before looking back to the food you were meant to keep an eye on instead of getting distracted by your handsome Captain. You had to keep reminding yourself to behave and actually respect the chain of command. To let yourself imagine he may genuinely feel the same as you did would only lead to heartbreak in the long run but still you flirted and teased him whenever you could. You supposed you were just a glutton for punishment. You slowed in stirring the food and looked around for the seasonings only to see the small jar on the counter near Kid.
“Could you pass me that?” You asked nodding your head at what you needed. Kid followed your gaze and immediately pushed himself away from his comfortable position to lift the tiny item. He stepped forward and passed the seasoning into your waiting hand, hating and loving how the brief moment of his fingers skimming against yours brought him such a burst of joy. “Thank you, darling.” You smiled, turning back to the stove. While you hadn’t noticed what you’d said Killer did and he stopped cutting the vegetables to look Kid who was frozen in place, his eyes wide and cheeks turning the same bright red as his hair.
Darling? The fuck did you mean darling?! Kid’s mind was short-circuiting as he scrambled to gather his wits together and make sense of it all. Had you called him that subconsciously because was it possible that you felt for him too? God he hoped so because getting to hear you call him something so sweet again would be perfect.
SHANKS
One of the great things about sailing with an Emperor of the sea like Shanks was the fact that there were many islands under his protection. Any time you landed at one for a visit or even for the excuse of resting from a long stretch of sailing, the locals welcomed you all so warmly that it turned into one big celebration. None of you needed to worry about night watches, chores or other duties and could just sit back and enjoy the peace until Shanks decided he wanted to get back on the waters again.
As a crew, you were all used to just passing out and sleeping wherever you were at that time and waking up with aches from the uncomfortable positions you’d all ended up. However the town you were staying in was large enough to provide some rooms for you all in one of their inns. Some of you still needed to double up but the beds were extremely comfortable and who were you all to refuse such generosity? One night when the drinking and partying was only just beginning you slowly rose from your seat with a stifled yawn and forced yourself to finish your drink. Shanks was first to notice your movements. “Going for another round of drinks already?” he asked, coming across casual but he knew you weren’t yourself.
“Nah, I’m turning in early.” You announced, playfully flipping off the crew when they started to boo you for being boring. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Blame Beck, alright. I haven’t slept the last two nights. Goodnight.” You gave no further explanation and disappeared up the staircase to claim a room to sleep in. Shanks looked towards his righthand man with a small scowl. He hoped you hadn’t implied what he thought. Beckman could sense his Captain’s silent interrogation and waved away his worries. “Calm down Cap, you know I’d never make a move on them. It’s just been bad luck we’ve had a share a room together and I snore…apparently.” He explained with a shrug and long drink of his ale.
Shanks had accepted the answer, knowing Beck would never lie to him. Yet as innocent as it all was, he couldn’t ignore the way he’d felt sick at the thought of you being with another of the crew. While nothing had exactly happened between you both, it was painfully obvious that there was something there. A playful dance you both engaged in without making an actual step forward into committing and admitting you’d had feelings. Roughly Shanks rubbed his eyes, now wasn’t the time to be thinking on such things, not with alcohol in his system and you not being there to talk to like the adults you were.
The rest of the night had helped to take his mind off things but it was all undone by the time he entered the room he’d been staying in the entire stay and saw you sleeping soundly in his bed. He was the only one in the crew that didn’t have to share his room with anyone else so why were you here? He approached the bed and shook your arm, watching your eyes crack open and he immediately felt guilty. You really did look exhausted. “Why’re you in my bed?” He asked, trying not to laugh as your eyes slipped closed again.
“Furthest room…no snoring. Please honey, lemme sleep.” Your voice was thick with sleep and your breathing was growing deeper again. Shanks might have appeared calm but that was the first time you’d ever called him something like that and as far as he knew you’d never called anyone else on the crew something similar. That all but cemented his decision that things needed to be talked about when you were both awake and rested enough to deal with things. Finally he let out a sigh and climbed into what would be his side of the bed while keeping respectable space between you both. “Fine, only because it’s you.”
MARCO
Your relationship with the ship’s doctor was a fairly new one. You had both known each other long enough to know the general likes and dislikes and the atmosphere on the Moby Dick among the crew was always one of familial harmony so there was never any uncomfortable tension. You were both content to just take things easy and enjoy things as they developed naturally without needed to force things into a certain timeframe. Marco’s personality being so relaxed and carefree was infectious in general and it was no different in your relationship.
Marco stood from his desk and stretched, ready to find you and enjoy the rest of the day with you now that all pressing tasks he’d needed to complete for the day was done. He was just about to leave when Izou entered to talk about organising a banquet for Ace’s birthday. As the two were discussing everything you appeared and smiled at them both before entering the room.
“Babe, did you see my-” Anything else that came out of your mouth was unfortunately drowned out by the increased heart rate in Marco’s ears. Instead he could only watch as you were busy looking for whatever it was that you’d lost. Marco would have considered himself steady and able to handle most situations but hearing you call him babe for the first time had certainly thrown him and you seemed oblivious to the fact that you’d done so. The only person who truly reacted was Izou, his laugh snapping Marco out of his trance and catching your attention too. “Babe, huh? Didn’t realise things were so serious with you two. Maybe we could plan the wedding too.” Izou teased.
“What are you talking about now?” You asked with a small smile. You were used to Izou’s teasing like a brother figure would but sometimes he just didn’t make sense. When Izou saw that you weren’t aware of your subconscious slip-up he grinned wider.
“You called Marco, babe.” He explained. You rolled your eyes and let out an amused laugh. As far as jokes went, it wasn’t the worst one he’d told you but he could do better. Suddenly you became concerned when Izou’s smug grin wasn’t slipping and you had to think. What had you said to Marco when you entered the room? Slowly you pulled your gaze to your boyfriend and he nodded. “Well looks like you two lovebirds need some alone time.” Izou all but sang as he left, no doubt hurrying off to tell Ace and the others about Marco’s new nickname.
“So…” You cleared your throat nervously and gave a small laugh. “Want to forget that happened? I swear I didn’t realise I’d even called you that.” The last thing you wanted was to make Marco think you were forcing him to a point he wasn’t ready for. Thankfully his broad smile was enough to make you relax, his naturally warm aura soothing your brief worries before they had a chance to escalate. Marco stepped closer to you, settling a hand on your waist. “Well even if you stop now, I bet all the others will start. Honestly I’d much rather hear it from your lips. Can I hear you say it again?”
ZORO
Zoro kept a firm hold on your shoulder as you stumbled, trying to twist weakly out of his grip. Any other instance he would release you if his touch made you uncomfortable but this was a completely different situation. After defeating a group of lackeys, one managed to make one last attack before falling unconscious. You’d been quick enough to intercept whatever it was he threw towards you and Zoro but when it was destroyed it still released a cloud of strange smelling gas. Zoro had been a safe enough distance but you weren’t so lucky.
At first you’d insisted you were fine but after walking a few paces your balance started to sway and your mind was beginning to cloud. Zoro became concerned by the glazed look in your eyes as you tried one more time to pull out of his unwavering hold, glaring at him. “Jus’ let me go! I don’t know you.”
His eyes widened at your declaration, not only because you sounded so dazed and confused. It was not like your usual bright and familiar way of speaking that made him happy to hear but it was also because hearing you say you didn’t know him filled him with more concern than he was willing to admit. He needed to find Chopper quickly to treat whatever it was you’d been hit with. For now he had to try and keep you calm and prove you were safe with him. “Course you know me. We’re crew-mates, remember? It’s Zoro.”
Abruptly you stopped and bumped into his chest, lifting your head to stare at him, trying to force yourself to focus on his face. Your hand reached out and clumsily gripped his face, tugging him forward enough for you to see his features better. Zoro could see your pupils were blown wide, whatever had been in that vial was some sort of hallucinogenic and he hoped that that was all it was. It could be better dealt with than a poison. Not that seeing you so wary and untrusting of him was any better. Your suspicion didn’t subside when you finally let go of his face and shook your head.
“You’re not Zoro.” You finally declared, trying once more to get away from him. This time you succeeded only enough to make it a couple of steps but without him there to keep you stable you fell forward. If Zoro hadn’t been there you would have landed face first into the pavement but he caught you swiftly around the waist and lifted you to settle you over his shoulder, deciding that this way of carrying you was the best option. “Definitely not Zoro.” You weakly grumbled into his back as he began walking again.
“Oh yeah, why’re you so sure of that?” He asked, deciding to at least play along.
“You’re too grumpy…” You explained and added as you fell unconscious. “Zoro’s grumpy but he’s a sweetheart. My sweetheart.” Immediately the back of his neck heated and he froze in place but he couldn’t say or do anything else because thankfully Chopper, Usopp and Nami appeared to regroup and find Luffy. Zoro quickly explained to Chopper that you’d been hit by something but offered no further details.
“Did you get hit too, Zoro? You’re looking really red.” Chopper asked in concern. Quickly Zoro cleared his throat and shrugged as he laid you on the ground so Chopper could treat you.
“Uh yeah, might have been. Don’t worry about it though.”
#one piece#one piece imagines#one piece x reader#trafalgar law x reader#eustass kid x reader#shanks x reader#marco x reader#zoro roronoa x reader#one piece fic#one piece x you#one piece fanfiction#one piece scenario#law x reader#trafalgar law#trafalgar law x you#law x you#trafalgardwaterlaw#trafalgar one piece#eustass x reader#eustass kid#eustass captain kidd#eustass kid x you#one piece kid#shanks x you#red haired shanks#red hair shanks#akagami no shanks#shanks one piece#marco the phoenix#marco one piece
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𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐁𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞
From this poll, this series is born!
a/n: this is changing the dragons from not just mount, but to being able to shift into a human-like form at will...
𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿
・The dragons Westeros once known (and barely understood anyway)...had started to evolve. Where once were leathery wings and two clawed legs, now stood a man. A giant of a man truly, with eyes that could pierce the soul.
・Had this been what everyone else experienced? You couldn't ask - not now, as he had flown you to a secluded patch of land, far from King's Landing ... or any kind of civilisation.
・You didn't know how to react when the transformation was complete and Balerion found a tree, and sat down against it.
・You were INCREDULOUS! Unable to look at the naked man before you; this was not how the bond was supposed to work??
"Nyke ȳdra daor pendagon ao sagon supposed naejot gaomagon bona." (I don't think you're supposed to do that…) You hissed to Balerion.
"Skorkydoso would ao gīmigon skoros nyke se am daor supposed naejot gaomagon?" (How would you know what I am and am not supposed to do?)
・You nearly screeched... Fluent in High Valyrian! He can speak and he is FLUENT!
・Your nose flared as you swung to look at him.
・That day you learnt a great deal of things. Among them was the fact that he knew the common tongue as well, was practically always hungry, and the most important thing ... you still had to wrap your head around...
・That the bond you have with Balerion isn't just rider & and mount. It's a soulbond.
・This was how they kept dragons in Valyria; through blood magic they made them human. They could stay in either form whenever they wished.
・But it also meant every few years, whoever was the dragon's rider - was also their mate. As in ... romantic mate.
・"Yn, nyke going naejot sagon married?" (But, I'm going to be married?)
"Ao emagon issare chosen hae ñuhon." (You have been chosen as mine.)
"Ondoso qilōni!" (By who!)
"Nyke iderēptan ao." (I chose you.)
・Only those that had been chosen know about this.
・It took you a while to fully come to terms with the fact that more dragons depended on your bond with Balerion.
・He gave you space.
・But only for three days.
・Then he came waltzing through your door, and took a seat in front of the fireplace. His long legs stretching, large thick arms spread against the seat's frame.
・You had been fretting in your bed, unable to sleep, only thinking and thinking. Anxiety getting the best of you.
"Come sit by the fire," he said. Balerion's voice was gravelly, at times forced - the shift still not fully easy after all these years.
"You said you would give me time to think!" You huffed into your pillow.
"I have given you time. But I wish to be with my mate. Now come."
・You rolled your eyes, flung the blanket back and grabbed your pillow. Pressing it to your chest, you skulked over to the maroon coloured seat.
・Your breath was taken straight from your body as you saw him.
・With the fireplace the only source of light, Balerion looked both an angel and a demon.
・Horns protruded from his head, the same shape as when he was a scaled beast. His red eyes found you, thick lashes blinking slowly. Tanned, olive skin seemed to gleam in the firelight.
・Balerion seemed to have hundreds of scars, but it only added to his ruggedness.
・You moved forward and sat near him, the pillow used as a barrier between you two.
・You hadn't noticed the pointed ears, or the small braids in his long hair.
・But as you looked upon him, Balerion was doing the same to you.
・He lifted his large scarred hand and held it against your cheek.
"My mate."
𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔
Soft for exactly one person (Balerion) x Is that one person (You)
"I've made a calculated decision." (Balerion) x "Wait, you can do maths?" (You)
Overly arrogant and flirtacious (Balerion) x Pretends To Be Unfazed, But Is Dying On The Inside (You)
You Can't Do That! (You) x And Why Not? (Balerion)
𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆
Intertwined Destinies
Defying Expectations
Bickering and Banter
𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈
Me and the Devil by Soap&Skin
Test Drive by John Powell
Into My Arms by the Midnite String Quartet
#witchthewriter#headcanons#house of the dragon#balerion#balerion the black dread#balerion x reader#balerion the black dread x reader#dragons#dragon directory#dragon dictionary#house targaryen#old valyria#dragon rider#hotd headcanons#game of thrones#asoiaf#asoiaf headcanons#asoiaf x reader#dragon x reader#dragon x human#monster romance#monster boyfriend#monster x human#monster x reader#fantasy creature#george rr martin#vhagar#meraxes#aegon the conqueror#rhaenys the conqueror
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strip poker — gojo satoru.
You leaned in a little closer, your voice dropping just enough for only him to hear. “Alright, Gojo Satoru. Since you’re so persistent… How about we make this interesting?” He raised an eyebrow, a playful grin forming on his lips. “Oh? I’m listening to you, doll.” he replied, clearly intrigued by whatever you had in mind. You took a sip of your drink, letting the silence hang between you for a moment, watching as his eyes remained locked on yours, his curiosity practically radiating off him. “Strip poker.” you said finally, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Just you and me. What do you say?”
WARNING/s: NSFW (R18+), Fluff, Romance, Love at First Sight, Strangers to Lovers, Pet Names (Doll, Boy, Baby, Etc), Profanity, Stripping Clothes, Oral Sex, Fingering, P to V Sex, Kissing, Making Out, Humor, Flirting, Teasing, Mention of Stripping, Mention of Body Parts, Mention of Sexual Acts, Mention of Alcohol, Depiction of Sexual Acts, Depiction of Nudity, Depiction of Alcoholic Beverage;
WORDS: 7.8k words.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: lately a lot of my works were really long, so i realized people need a refreshing thing from me than my long story formats. i thought about this during a writing block and i just thought that maybe, satoru would be the type to enjoy something like this, you know? and i think shoko and suguru would just try to make gojo greet all the guests and he'll be pouty. unless its reader, because reader is loved by gojo a lot (he just met you at this party) but anyway, if i posted this, it means the majority poll meant gojo won. but anyway i hope you enjoy this!!! i love you all~ 🫶
ADDENDUM: with an hour left in the vote and the gap being wide — gojo does win 🙂↕���
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HE WAS LOOKING FOR SOMETHING EXCITING. Gojo Satoru leaned against the doorway, his drink swirling lazily in his hand, the dim light of the room casting playful shadows across his face. His eyes, those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see everything and nothing at once, were fixed on you. You were standing with Shoko and Suguru, laughing at some private joke, and he couldn't help but wonder how he had never noticed you before.
It was strange. He knew everyone worth knowing, especially those who moved in Shoko's and Suguru's circles. But you... you were different. Your laughter was genuine, your smile bright, and there was a certain ease to the way you carried yourself—a confidence that wasn’t showy but quietly powerful, drawing people in without even trying.
As you spoke, he watched the way your lips curved into a grin, the way your eyes sparkled with mischief. He could see that Suguru was captivated, leaning in to listen more closely, while Shoko rolled her eyes with a fond smile that suggested she was used to whatever game you were playing. Satoru couldn't quite hear what you were saying from where he stood, but he caught snippets of your voice, warm and inviting, tinged with a teasing edge that piqued his curiosity even more.
"How is it," he muttered to himself, "that someone like you has managed to slip under my radar?"
He took a sip of his drink, his gaze never wavering, trying to piece together the puzzle that was you. Maybe you were new to their circle, or perhaps you had always been there, hidden in plain sight, and he just hadn’t been paying close enough attention. Either way, he was intrigued, and that wasn't something that happened often.
When Shoko glanced over and caught his eye, she raised an eyebrow, smirking as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. He gave her a playful wink in response, but his attention quickly returned to you.
Suguru, noticing the shift in focus, turned and followed Shoko's gaze, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. "Satoru, come here." he called out, motioning for him to join. "Why are you lurking over there like a ghost at a party? Come say hi."
Satoru grinned and pushed himself off the doorframe, making his way over with a casual, easy stride. "I wouldn’t call it lurking, Suguboo." he said, slipping effortlessly into the group, his gaze still locked on you. "Just... observing."
You turned to face him fully, and for the first time, he felt the full force of your presence. Up close, you were even more intriguing—eyes bright and challenging, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "Observing, huh?" you echoed, clearly amused. "Is that what they’re calling it these days?"
His grin widened, loving the way you didn’t shrink under his scrutiny but seemed to meet it head-on. "Well, you know, doll." he replied smoothly, "I like to get a feel for things before diving in."
Shoko snorted softly, rolling her eyes. "Translation: he likes to watch before he pounces."
"Careful, Satoru." Suguru added with a chuckle. "You’re starting to sound like a creep."
Satoru laughed, the sound light and carefree. "Maybe I am, Maybe I’m not." he admitted, his gaze still fixed on you. "But I like to have some good surprises for the interesting ones."
Your smile widened, clearly enjoying the attention, and you leaned in slightly, closing the distance between you. "So, am I interesting to you, Gojo?"
He felt a spark of electricity at the way you said his name, the way it rolled off your tongue like you’d known him for years. “Oh, definitely.” he replied, his voice dropping to a low, playful drawl. “Interesting enough to make me wonder how I've missed you all this time.”
You laughed softly, a sound that sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. “Maybe you just weren’t looking hard enough.” you teased him. “Maybe you need to have a better look, don’t you think?”
He leaned in closer, his smile turning sly. “Oh, I’m looking now.”
There was a beat of silence, charged with unspoken words and possibilities, and Satoru could feel the air between you crackle with an almost tangible energy. He was used to this game, the dance of flirtation, but there was something about you that felt different—like you were two steps ahead of him, and he was enjoying every second of trying to catch up.
“Let’s see if you can keep up.” you said, your eyes glinting with challenge. “Because I’m not that easy to catch, Gojo.”
His grin widened, excitement bubbling up in his chest. “Oh, I do love a challenge, doll.” he murmured, taking another sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving yours. “And trust me, I’m very persistent when I sense something good for me.”
“Then am I good for you?” You grinned at him, eyes full of amusement.
He returned your grin. “Why, the moment I saw you, doll — you were good for me and all of my lifetimes.”
Suguru and Shoko exchanged glances, their amusement clear as they observed the growing tension between you and Satoru. Shoko's eyes sparkled with mischief, clearly enjoying the unfolding drama, while Suguru's smirk spoke of his own quiet amusement at the game Satoru was now fully immersed in. They didn’t need to say a word; their silent communication conveyed everything—this was going to be entertaining.
Satoru, however, was oblivious to their silent exchange. His focus was entirely on you, his mind buzzing with possibilities. The playful challenge you’d just thrown at him had ignited a spark of curiosity and interest that he couldn’t ignore. As he watched you, the way your eyes sparkled with mischief and your smile held a promise of excitement, he found himself drawn in even more.
You leaned in a little closer, your voice dropping just enough for only him to hear. “Alright, Gojo since you’re so persistent… How about we make this interesting?”
He raised an eyebrow, a playful grin forming on his lips. “Oh? I’m listening to you, doll.” he replied, clearly intrigued by whatever you had in mind.
You took a sip of your drink, letting the silence hang between you for a moment, watching as his eyes remained locked on yours, his curiosity practically radiating off him. “Strip poker.” you said finally, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Just you and me. What do you say?”
"Are you serious?" Satoru chuckled, his grin spreading wide across his face. The light overhead cast a gleam on his white hair, making him look even more striking under the dim glow of the room.
"Dead serious, darling." you replied, eyes glinting with a playful challenge. "Unless, of course, the great Gojo Satoru is afraid of a little game."
His grin only widened at the bait. "Afraid? Not exactly my style. But I've got to admit, it's not every day someone proposes strip poker to me the first time we meet." He took a sip from his drink, eyes never leaving yours, scanning for any sign of bluff or mischief.
You shrugged, leaning against the table with an easy confidence that only intrigued him more. "What can I say? I like to keep things interesting. And you looked like you could use a little excitement."
He laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained. "So, what's the catch? I lose, and you get a fun little story to tell your friends? Or do I win, and...?"
You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Who says I intend to lose? Besides, winning isn't everything. It's the fun in between, Satoru."
He blinked at the use of his first name, a small surprise evident in his expression. Most people would hesitate to use it so casually, but coming from you, it felt oddly natural—like it had always been meant to be spoken by you. There was something about the way you said it, with that hint of mischief and confidence, that made it feel less like an invasion of personal space and more like an intimate invitation.
For a moment, Satoru’s gaze flickered around the room. It was then that he realized Shoko and Suguru had somehow vanished. The two had a knack for disappearing at precisely the right moment, leaving him in a situation that was both intriguing and precarious. Typical of them, really. They always seemed to know exactly when to make their exit, leaving him to fend for himself in whatever delightful predicament they had orchestrated.
A chuckle escaped his lips as he looked back at you, his eyes twinkling with both amusement and a hint of challenge. “Well, it looks like we’re on our own.” he said, his tone light but laced with a playful edge. “I suppose that means we get to make our own rules now.”
You raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the turn of events. “Seems like it, glasses.” you replied, your voice smooth and teasing. “So, what do you say?”
He grinned, the playful glint in his eyes growing stronger. “I think we should make the most of this opportunity, doll. Let’s not waste time,” he said, stepping closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “After all, it’s not every day I get to have a game of strip poker with someone as intriguing as you.”
His words were laced with a mix of flirtation and eagerness, his tone smooth and inviting. The term “doll” came out with a casual intimacy, making the moment feel even more charged. You could feel the heat between you intensify as he closed the distance, his presence commanding and electrifying.
You met his gaze with a confident smile, your heart racing a little faster. “Alright, Gojo.” you replied, your voice low and sultry. He pouts. You returned to calling him by his last name. You liked teasing him, he thinks. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“You better watch it, doll.” he said, setting his drink down and crossing his arms over his chest, still grinning. “I’ll bite. Let’s play. But don’t expect me to go easy on you. And don’t think for a second that I’ll be the one taking off anything first.”
You laughed, a sound that made him feel strangely lighter, more at ease. “Oh, I’m counting on it.” you said, your voice full of playful confidence.
His grin widened, the challenge lighting up his expression. “You’re so interesting, doll.” He chuckled, clearly delighted. “Where have you been all my life?”
You tilted your head slightly, enjoying the way his words seemed to both flatter and intrigue. “Well, you know….” you replied, your tone teasing. “Maybe I’ve been waiting for the right moment to make an entrance. And tonight, it looks like the stars finally aligned.”
Satoru’s eyes sparkled with genuine curiosity and admiration. “I have to say, I’m glad they did, doll.” he said, leaning in a bit closer, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “Because you’ve definitely made this night unforgettable.”
“You’re quite the flirt.”
“Gotta shoot all the shots to win, doll.” He winks at you.
You shrugged, your smile teasing. “Well, you say this now….but you’ll lose to me too.”
He laughed, a carefree, confident sound that made Shoko and Suguru glance over with a raised eyebrow from a distant space. “Oh, I never lose.” he replied, leaning closer, his voice a low, tempting drawl. “Especially not when there’s something I really want.”
You rolled your eyes, but your grin didn’t fade. “Then prove it.” you said, nodding toward a quieter, dimly lit room down the hall. “Let’s go.”
Satoru, for his part, didn’t hesitate. He set his drink down with a casual flick of his wrist, his bright cerulean eyes still locked on yours as he pushed off the wall. He reached out and took your hand, his grip warm and confident.
“Lead the way, doll.” he said, his voice dripping with playful challenge.
You felt a rush of excitement at his quick agreement, and you couldn’t help but grin. You felt a thrill of excitement as you led him down the hall, the dim lighting casting soft shadows and adding an air of intimacy to the moment. With every step, the noise of the party grew more distant, replaced by the soft thrum of your heartbeat and the electric tension between you.
As you reached the door to the quieter room, you glanced back at him, a teasing smile playing on your lips. Gojo Satoru’s gaze was unwavering, his bright eyes reflecting a mixture of anticipation and admiration. He could feel the adrenaline in him. This was exciting. And he liked it. He liked you.
You pushed open the door, revealing a cozy, dimly lit space that felt almost like a secret hideaway. The room was furnished simply but comfortably, with a plush carpet and a few scattered cushions. It was the perfect setting for the game you had in mind.
He looked around, a playful smirk still on his face. “Alright, doll.” he said, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto a chair. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
You grabbed a deck of cards from a nearby table, shuffling them with a practiced ease. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you, Gojo.” you teased, dealing the cards out between you.
Satoru sat opposite you, his posture relaxed, but his gaze was intense, locked onto you with an almost predatory focus. “I think I’ll take my chances, doll.” he replied smoothly. “And please, call me Satoru. Gojo is too formal for your gorgeous lips to mouth.”
You smiled, enjoying the tension that hung thick in the air between you, the game already beginning before a single card was played. "Alright then, Satoru." you said, your voice dripping with anticipation. "Let’s see who’s getting undressed first."
He chuckled, picking up his cards and leaning back comfortably. “Oh, it’s on now.”
And just like that, the game was set—a battle of wits, charm, and maybe something more.
You watched as his long legs folded with a graceful ease that didn’t quite match the competitive glint in his cocky blue eyes. He grabbed a deck of cards from a nearby table, his movements fluid, almost theatrical as he shuffled with deft, experienced hands.
You sat across from him, the distance between you feeling both vast and electric, like an unspoken challenge hanging in the air. The way you held his gaze, unwavering and unyielding, only made Gojo Satoru more intrigued. He wasn’t used to people looking at him like that—like he was just another person in the room, not just some role people fit upon him or a man with a reputation that preceded him.
“So, doll….” he began, dealing out the first hand with a practiced flick of his wrist. “How do you know Shoko and Suguru? And why haven't we met before tonight?”
You picked up your cards, smiling slyly. “Oh, I’m sure they’ve mentioned me. I’m just good at staying under the radar… when I want to.”
He leaned back, considering your words. “Mysterious. I like that. But I'm pretty good at picking up on secrets. Better watch out.”
You chuckled softly. “I think I’ll take my chances.”
The game began, and with each round, you both played with a mix of strategy and daring. He tried to read you, his eyes narrowing whenever you made a bold move, but you held your own, bluffing with an expertise that surprised him. His usual smug grin faltered slightly, and you could tell he was trying to decipher the mystery in your gaze. The room seemed to shrink with the tension between you, each card dealt heightening the stakes.
Satoru leaned forward, his gaze never leaving your face, a playful yet challenging spark in his eyes. “You’re a lot harder to read than I thought.” he murmured, the corner of his mouth curling upward in amusement. “But I like a good mystery.”
You smirked in response, feeling the heat of his stare, knowing he was trying to unravel you with every glance, but determined to keep him guessing. You were sure that soon enough, a pile of discarded clothing would grow between you steadily. But so far, there has been little, with your little ties. All you had removed were little, like a hair tie or a necktie.
You agreed it was still part of clothes. But then again, you just both wanted it to last a little longer. One after the other though was tossed aside with a flick of your wrist or a slow, deliberate grin from him, marking the razor's edge between victory and defeat.
The room little by little crackled with tension, the air thick with challenge and heat, and every turn of a card seemed to bring you closer, like magnets drawn together by an irresistible force. The game had become something more than a little fun thing — it was a dance with a Russian roulette where every bluff was a whispered confession, every raise a daring promise.
Your pulse quickened with every sly smile he threw your way, every calculated tilt of his head, and his eyes bore into yours, gleaming with a hunger that was impossible to ignore. The stakes climbed higher with every move, the line between a win and a loss blurring into something electric, something tantalizingly close to dangerous.
You could feel it in your bones — this was no longer just about cards or luck; it was about who would yield first, who would surrender to the inevitable tension simmering in the space between your bodies. And you like winning. But so did he. Winning was after all, a different sort of drug to be enjoyed.
Neither of you spoke, but the room was filled with a silent conversation, an exchange of glances and gestures that spoke volumes. The game wasn’t just about winning — it was about who could push the other further, who could tease out the truth hidden behind those guarded eyes. Neither of you wanted to lose, not when the real prize was so tantalizingly close. And as another card fell, you knew this was only the beginning.
"You're not bad, doll." he admitted, his shirt still firmly on but with a hint of pink on his cheeks, likely from the alcohol. “But I’ve been known to turn the tables.”
“I wouldn’t have suggested this game if I didn’t think I could win, Satoru.” you replied confidently, leaning forward. The playful spark in your eyes never left, and it only seemed to fuel Satoru’s competitive spirit further.
Round after round, pieces of clothing slowly came off. A shoe here, a sock there. He was still confident, leaning in closer as he laid down another hand. "Full house." he declared, his grin downright wicked now.
You glanced at his cards, then backed up at him with a raised eyebrow. "Nice." you said, sounding impressed, before laying your cards down with a flourish. "Straight flush."
He blinked, then laughed—a genuine, delighted laugh that came from deep in his chest. "No way! You little—"
“Looks like someone’s going to lose a little more than just their pride, Satoru.” you teased, enjoying the way his grin faltered for a moment, his confidence taking a tiny, amusing dip.
He leaned back in his chair, pretending to think deeply, then slowly began to unbutton his shirt. “Alright, alright. I’m a man of my word, doll.” he conceded, though his eyes never left yours, sparkling with mischief. “But don’t get too comfortable. The game’s not over yet.”
As he shrugged out of his shirt, you found yourself momentarily distracted by the unexpected sight—his lean, toned frame catching the dim light. Satoru noticed, his smile turning sly. “See something you like?”
You shrugged, keeping your expression neutral. "Just waiting for my next win."
He laughed again, a sound that seemed to fill the room, light and unburdened. “Oh, this is really crazy. I like that.” he murmured, leaning in closer, his voice dropping slightly. “I like you.”
You raise your glass, meeting his gaze with a bold smile. "The feeling might be mutual, but don't think for a second that means I'm letting you win."
For the first time in a while, Gojo Satoru felt a genuine thrill that had nothing to do with curses or danger. Just the electric spark of a moment, a challenge, and the intriguing mystery of the person sitting across from him, daring him to come closer.
The game continued on, the air thick with anticipation, each round upping the stakes. Satoru was completely absorbed now, his usual nonchalant demeanor replaced with focused intensity. For every card dealt, every sly smile exchanged, he found himself more drawn into this unexpected encounter.
As the rounds progressed, it became increasingly clear that you were holding your own. The playful banter between the two of you had turned into something sharper, more personal. It wasn't just a game anymore; it was a test—a test of wills, of understanding, of reading between the lines of every look and laugh.
Satoru tossed his next set of cards on the table. "Three of a kind." he said, tapping his fingers lightly against the table, eyes flickering with amusement. "Not my best, but not bad."
You looked down at your own hand, considering your options. "Hmm…." you hummed, tapping your chin thoughtfully before placing your cards down. "Four of a kind."
His mouth fell open in exaggerated shock. "No way! You’re cheating!”
You laughed, a carefree sound that seemed to light up the room. "Maybe you just need to step up your game, Gojo Satoru."
He tilted his head, pretending to look hurt, but his smile was as bright as ever. “Oh, I see how it is. You're trying to humble me. I can't let that happen. I have a reputation to uphold.”
He reached for his belt, starting to unbuckle it with deliberate slowness, making a show of every movement. "You really want to play with fire, huh?" he teased, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial whisper. "Careful, you might get burned."
You met his gaze head-on, your smile never wavering. "I think I can handle the heat."
He chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re something else, you know that?” He leaned forward, elbows on the table, close enough that you could feel the faint brush of his energy, his presence suddenly more intense. “But I’ve got a feeling you’re not here just for a game, are you?”
Your eyes sparkled, the corners of your lips curling up just slightly. “Maybe I’m here to see what all the fuss is about. People talk about you, you know… like you’re this untouchable legend.”
He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest with a playful smirk. “And what do they say?”
You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Oh, you know… that you’re the strongest, the smartest, the most arrogant—”
“Hey!” he interrupted, laughing. “I’m not that arrogant… just very self-aware.”
You laughed too, feeling the tension between you soften into something warmer, more familiar. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.”
His grin widened. "You think I’m a show-off, huh?”
“I think,” you said slowly, leaning in just a little closer, “that you like being the center of attention. And I think you’re not used to people seeing through that.”
Satoru blinked, the playful glint in his eyes dimming just slightly, replaced by something more genuine, more intrigued. “And what do you see when you look at me?”
You paused, considering your answer, letting the silence stretch just long enough to keep him guessing. “I see someone who likes to keep people at a distance. Someone who hides a lot behind that smile.”
He tilted his head, his expression softer now, almost contemplative. “And you think you know what I’m hiding?”
You shrugged. “Not yet. But I think you might want someone to try and figure it out.”
For a moment, he was quiet, watching you with those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see everything and yet reveal nothing. Then, slowly, he smiled—a softer, more sincere smile than before. “Maybe I do.”
The tension in the room shifted again, this time to something less tangible, a mix of curiosity and possibility hanging in the air between you. The game had become secondary; it was clear now that something deeper was at play. Satoru leaned back, his grin returning, though his eyes were still searching for yours.
“Alright, doll.” he said, voice vibrant and light. “One more hand. Winner takes all.”
“All?” you echoed, arching an eyebrow. “And what exactly is ‘all,’ Satoru?”
He leaned forward again, his smile turning mischievous. “That’s the fun part—we get to decide. Maybe it’s another game. Maybe it’s just a walk under the stars. Or maybe…”
“Maybe?” you prompted, leaning in as well, feeling the pull between you tighten.
“Maybe, doll….” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper now, “it’s just finding out who you really are, and why you make me feel like I’ve met you before, even though I’m sure I haven’t.”
Your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected honesty in his words. This was not the Gojo Satoru you’d expected, not quite. But maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something neither of you had anticipated.
“Deal.” you said finally, holding out your hand for him to shake.
He took it, his grip warm and firm. “Deal.”
You felt the warmth of his hand linger longer than necessary, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. Neither of you pulled away, your hands still clasped together, as if testing each other’s resolve.
“Are you trying to distract me?” you teased, but your voice came out softer than you intended, betraying the flutter of anticipation building in your chest.
Satoru’s smile widened, a hint of something darker and more thrilling sparking in his eyes. “Is it working?” he asked, his voice low and velvety, closer now, his breath brushing against your skin.
You held his gaze, feeling the air between you grow thick with tension, the kind that made your pulse quicken. “Maybe a little.” you admitted, and his grin grew even more wicked.
He didn’t release your hand, instead using it to pull you closer across the small table, until you were only inches apart. “Good.” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper that sent a thrill down your spine. “Because I’m curious… What else could I do to distract you?”
Before you could answer, his free hand reached up, his fingers lightly tracing the line of your jaw, his touch gentle but purposeful. “I’ve got a few ideas.” he continued, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, his eyes following the movement like he was memorizing every detail.
Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest as his fingers moved down, tracing the curve of your neck, his touch feather-light but sending sparks of heat through your veins. “You talk a big game,” you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady, “but can you back it up?”
His eyes flashed with amusement and something else—something darker, hungrier. “Oh, I think you’ll find I’m very good at keeping my promises.” he replied softly, leaning in until his lips were a breath away from yours. “Especially the fun ones.”
And then, without warning, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that was soft at first, almost teasing, before deepening with a sudden intensity that made your head spin. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer, and you felt the world around you disappear, leaving just the heat of his mouth, the press of his body against yours.
You kissed him back with equal fervor, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your palms. His lips moved against yours with an urgency that sent a rush of heat through your body, your skin tingling everywhere he touched.
He broke the kiss, just enough to murmur against your lips, “You’re full of surprises,” before diving back in, his kiss rougher this time, more insistent. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you onto his lap in one swift movement. You gasped against his mouth, feeling the firmness of his body beneath you, the heat of his skin through the fabric of your clothes.
Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging just hard enough to elicit a low groan from him, a sound that sent a delicious thrill through you. “Satoru.” you breathed, his name slipping from your lips like a secret, and his response was a grin against your mouth, wicked and knowing.
“Yeah?” he asked, his voice a low rumble in his chest, his hands roaming up your back, sliding under your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin that left trails of fire in their wake.
You didn’t answer, just kissed him harder, pressing your body against his, feeling the heat building between you, the tension coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap. His lips moved to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made you gasp, your head tilting back to give him more access.
He chuckled softly, his breath hot against your neck. “Sensitive, are we?” he teased, but his voice was strained, as if he was barely holding himself back. His hands slid lower, gripping your hips and pressing you down against him, letting you feel exactly how much he wanted you.
You let out a soft moan, your fingers gripping his shoulders for support. “Maybe,” you whispered, your voice breathless. “But I think you like that.”
He laughed, a low, husky sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Oh, I do,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “I like everything about you… so far.”
You pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes, seeing the raw desire there, the need that mirrored your own. “Then maybe, Satoru, baby.” you whispered, leaning in to brush your lips against his, “You should stop talking and show me.”
He grinned, a wicked, knowing grin that made your heart race. “Challenge accepted, doll.” he said, and then his lips were on yours again, his kiss consuming, his hands exploring, leaving no part of you untouched, as if he wanted to memorize every inch of you.
You looked at him and grinned. “Let me make you feel good, boy.”
“Make it happen then, lovely.” He steps out of his pants and you sink to your knees on the plush carpet beneath you, licking your lips as he frees his member.. Your eyes meeting him.
You held his gaze, your grin widening as you saw the anticipation flicker in his eyes, a mix of mischief and hunger that mirrored your own. “Oh, I will,baby.” you promised, your voice a low purr that seemed to send a shiver down his spine.
You let your gaze trail down his body, taking in the sight of his lean, toned form before letting your eyes settle on his length, now freed and hard. A spark of excitement danced through you, and you licked your lips, feeling a wave of heat wash over you as you dropped to your knees on the plush carpet, every movement slow and deliberate, keeping his attention locked on you.
Satoru watched you, his breath hitching, and you could feel his intense gaze on you, almost like a physical touch. Your hands reached up, fingertips brushing lightly against his thighs, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your palms as you leaned in, your breath ghosting over his length. His eyes widened slightly, a soft exhale escaping his lips, and you could tell he was already on edge, trying to maintain his composure.
You looked up at him through your lashes, meeting his gaze with a wicked grin. “Ready, Satoru?” you teased, your voice soft and sultry, letting the anticipation build for a moment longer.
His eyes darkened, a soft growl escaping him. “Stop teasing, doll.” he muttered, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders, his fingers tightening slightly, betraying his eagerness. “Do your worst.”
Without another word, you leaned in, your tongue flicking out to tease the tip, tasting the salty bead of pre-cum that had formed there. Satoru sucked in a breath, his hips jerking slightly at the contact, and you felt a rush of satisfaction at the effect you were already having on him.
Slowly, you wrapped your lips around him, taking him inch by inch into your mouth, savoring the weight of him on your tongue, the way he filled your mouth completely. His hand moved to your hair, fingers threading through your strands, not pushing, but just holding, grounding himself in the sensation of your warm mouth around him.
You started to move, your mouth sliding up and down his length with slow, deliberate strokes, your tongue swirling around him, adding just enough pressure to draw soft, breathy moans from his lips. You glanced up at him, his head tipped back slightly, his mouth parted as he tried to keep his breathing steady.
“Fuck…..” he breathed, his voice strained, the hand in your hair tightening just a bit. “That’s… you’re good at this…”
You hummed around him, a low, vibrating sound that made his hips twitch, his fingers tightening in your hair. You felt a surge of triumph, your movements becoming bolder, faster, as you took him deeper, letting him feel the heat, the slick slide of your mouth, the way your lips tightened around him.
Satoru’s breathing grew heavier, and you could hear the soft sounds of pleasure escaping his lips, his usual confidence wavering under the intensity of your attention. His hips began to move with you, small thrusts that pushed him deeper into your mouth, and you welcomed it, matching his rhythm, taking him deeper still.
You felt his muscles tense under your hands, heard the low growl building in his throat, his fingers gripping your hair tighter as if he were holding on for dear life. “God… you’re driving me crazy, doll.” he muttered, his voice thick with desire, his control slipping.
You pulled back slightly, just enough to speak, your breath warm against his length. “Good.” you whispered, your voice a husky murmur, “because I’m not stopping until you come undone for me, Satoru.”
He looked down at you, his eyes blazing with need, and you saw a flicker of surrender there, a flash of vulnerability that made your heart race. “Then don’t stop, doll.” he whispered back, his voice a low command. “Make me lose control.”
You grinned up at him before taking him back into your mouth, your movements faster, more deliberate, determined to bring him to the edge and push him over. You felt his body tighten, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his hips thrusting in time with your movements, and you knew he was close.
With a few more strokes, a few more swirls of your tongue, you felt him shudder, his whole body tensing as he let out a low, deep moan, his release hitting hard and fast. His hand tightened in your hair as he rode out the waves of pleasure, his breathing heavy, his eyes closed, his lips parted in a satisfied grin.
You pulled back slowly, watching him as he came down, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his skin flushed, his hair tousled. He opened his eyes, a lazy smile spreading across his face, his gaze soft and full of something you couldn’t quite place.
“Damn.” he breathed, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re… something else.”
You smiled, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb, feeling a flush of your own. “Told you I’d make you feel good.” you replied, your voice light, teasing.
He chuckled, pulling you up to your feet and closer to him, his hands resting on your hips. “I think you’ve more than proven your point.” he murmured, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss against your lips, his smile warm against your mouth. “But now… it’s my turn.”
A soft gasp escapes your lips as his touch moves with a deliberate, tender pressure. The sensation sends ripples of pleasure through you, making your breath hitch. Your back arches instinctively, your body pressing closer to his. Every touch, every movement feels electric, your emotions swirling in a beautiful, overwhelming storm.
His lips brush against the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. Each kiss feels like a spark, igniting a fire that grows with every passing second. His hands glide along your back, pulling you closer still, as if he wants to feel every inch of you against him. Your breath quickens, matching the rhythm of your racing heartbeat.
His gaze meets yours, a mix of tenderness and something deeper, something that makes your heart flutter. “I want to make you feel everything, baby doll.” he whispers, his voice low and filled with promise.
You feel a surge of anticipation, your senses heightened, every touch sending a shiver down your spine. He takes his time, exploring every curve and contour, as if memorizing you. You’re lost in the sensation, in the way he makes you feel cherished, wanted, and entirely his. The world fades away, leaving just the two of you in a cocoon of shared intimacy and unspoken connection.
Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, and he responds with a soft, satisfied hum, his smile widening against your skin. “Stay with me, ‘toru.” you breathe, the words escaping almost involuntarily, a plea and a declaration all at once.
His hold on you tightens, and he nods, his eyes filled with an emotion so intense it takes your breath away. “Always.” he promises, sealing his vow with another lingering kiss that sends a wave of warmth through your entire being.
His hands roam down your sides with a deliberate slowness, tracing every curve as if savoring the feel of you beneath his fingertips. His touch is both gentle and insistent, a wordless reminder of the connection between you. As his lips move back to yours, the kiss deepens, becoming more passionate, more consuming, his tongue teasing yours in a dance that sets your nerves alight.
You can feel the heat radiating from his body, his warmth enveloping you like a blanket. Every movement is careful yet filled with an undeniable urgency. His fingers slip beneath the fabric of your clothes, his touch sending shivers of anticipation down your spine. Your breaths mingle, becoming heavier, the room thick with the electric charge of your shared desire.
He pulls back just enough to study your face, his gaze intense and filled with a hunger that sends a thrill through you. “You’re so beautiful, doll.” he murmurs, his voice husky with emotion. “Every part of you.” His hands move lower, caressing the sensitive skin of your waist, drawing a soft sigh from your lips.
You could feel the edges of your nails dig deep into Satoru’s back, leaving red marks once after another in the canvas of his supple skin. Each breath comes out in a shaky gasp, and you can feel him shiver beneath your touch, his skin heating under your fingertips. He groans softly at the sensation, the sound vibrating against your lips as he kisses you deeply, hungrily.
“‘Toru…baby….” you gasp out between moans, voice trembling with need. “You feel so good, goddddd…”
Your hips move instinctively against his hand, seeking that delicious friction, chasing the elusive climax that seems tantalizingly close but always just out of reach. You wondered where he has been all your life, where has this pleasure been all your life.
He smiles against your lips, his voice a low whisper, almost teasing. “I’ve got you, doll.” he murmurs, his fingers pressing deeper, moving with a slow, rhythmic intensity that makes you cry out softly. “Let me take you there.”
Satoru’s thumb circles gently, adding a different sensation, his eyes fixed on yours, watching every expression, every shudder of pleasure that passes over your face. His other hand is firm on your waist, guiding your movements, coaxing you closer, pulling you toward that edge with a deliberate slowness that drives you mad.
You feel the tension build inside you, every nerve ignited by his touch, his name spilling from your lips in a breathless whisper. “Satoru… baby....please…” you beg, the need in your voice is unmistakable.
He chuckles softly, his breath hot against your ear. “I love hearing you say my name like that, doll.” he whispers, his touch becoming more insistent, more purposeful. The heat between you grows, every sensation amplified by the intensity of the moment, his pace quickening, matching the desperate rhythm of your heartbeat.
Your body arches toward him, every inch of you attuned to his movements, and you feel yourself spiraling, that sweet ache within you growing sharper, hotter. His fingers find that perfect spot, and suddenly, you’re lost to the wave of pleasure that crashes over you, your body trembling, a moan of pure ecstasy escaping your lips as Gojo holds you close, his name a soft prayer on your lips.
“I’ll eat you out later, doll. I promise.” Satoru whispers against your ear, his voice laced with a playful promise that sends a shiver down your spine. “But right now… I need to be inside you.”
He positions himself between your spread legs, leaning down to tease the head of his member against your hungry, slick folds, rubbing himself gently against you. Each movement is torturously slow, spreading your wetness across both of you, the friction drawing a gasp from your lips. He watches your reactions with a smirk, his bright blue eyes darkened with desire.
Looking up at you, Satoru grins, his expression mischievous and full of intent. “Let’s do something else for now.” he murmurs, his voice low and inviting. He starts to push into you slowly, stretching you inch by inch, his gaze never leaving yours.
The sensation is overwhelming, your body instinctively arching to take him deeper. You can feel every part of him, the way he fills you perfectly, the way your body molds around him. His hands grip your hips, steadying you as he moves further, a low groan escaping his throat. “You feel incredible, baby doll.” he breathes, his voice rough with pleasure, his control hanging by a thread.
Your nails dig even harder into his shoulders as he continues to push in, stretching you, filling you completely. He pauses for a moment, letting you adjust, his forehead pressed against yours.
“Are you okay?” he whispers, his breath hot against your lips, his voice softer, seeking reassurance even amidst his own urgency.
You nod, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer. “I’m okay… more than okay, ‘toru.” you murmur, a breathy moan escaping you as he begins to move again, slowly pulling back before thrusting in, setting a rhythm that makes your toes curl.
His pace quickens, each thrust more intense, more deliberate, as if he’s determined to draw every sound, every sigh, from your lips. His name falls from your mouth in a mix of gasps and pleas, and he responds with a low growl, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss.
Satoru’s hands wander, one sliding up to cradle the back of your neck, the other gripping your hip, guiding you into his rhythm. Every movement feels perfectly timed, perfectly in sync, as if he knows exactly what you need, where to touch, how to move to drive you to the brink of ecstasy.
“God, I love the way you feel, doll.” he murmurs, his voice rough and desperate, his forehead pressing against yours as his pace becomes relentless, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through you. Your body tightens around him, drawing him deeper, the heat between you building to a crescendo, and you feel yourself start to unravel.
“Don’t hold back.” he urges, his voice thick with need, his eyes locked on yours. “Let go, doll… I want to feel you come undone.”
And with those words, everything inside you shatters in a wave of pure, overwhelming pleasure. Your body trembles, your breath catches, and you call out his name, your world reduced to the feeling of him moving within you, holding you, as you both reach for that beautiful, shared climax.
︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶
epilogue
You were exhausted. But you still had a curfew and your mother would be looking for you by now. When Satoru heard that, he immediately jumped up and said he'll take you home.
As you both fumbled to put your clothes back on in the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window, Gojo’s mischievous grin didn’t fade for a second. His white shirt was still unbuttoned, hanging off one shoulder, and his pants were inside out — not that he seemed to care.
You tugged your shirt over your head, smoothing down your hair with a breathless laugh. "You look like you got dressed in the dark." you teased, glancing at the ridiculous state of his attire.
Gojo chuckled, leaning in to nuzzle your neck, his lips brushing against your ear. "Well, to be fair, I was a bit distracted by you, doll."
Rolling your eyes, you gave his chest a light push. "Sure, blame me for your lack of coordination."
He winked and, with a dramatic flair, flipped his sunglasses back on, even though it was well past midnight. "Oh, definitely. It’s always your fault when I can't keep my hands to myself."
You both burst into laughter, the absurdity of the situation washing over you. Finally, Gojo took a deep breath, still grinning but with a hint of sincerity creeping into his voice. "So… now that I've seen you at your best — and, uh, at your most undressed — how about a date?"
You blinked, caught off guard. "A date? Like… a normal date?"
He nodded, his expression surprisingly earnest despite the disheveled hair and the inside-out pants. "Yeah, you know, the kind where I take you out, we eat something that isn't each other, maybe even talk about our feelings."
You snorted, trying to stifle your giggles. "You sure you can handle that, Satoru? The whole talking thing sounds like a lot of work for you."
He dramatically clutched his chest as if wounded. "Ouch, doll, that hurt. But yes, I think I could manage… if it means I get to see you smile like that again."
You pretended to consider it for a moment, then shrugged, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Fine. But I’m picking the place, and you’re wearing your pants the right way this time."
Gojo laughed, pulling you into his arms. "Deal. As long as you promise to wear something that makes me lose at poker again."
You smirked, leaning in close. "Oh, I think I can arrange that."
And as you both laughed, tangled in each other’s arms, the idea of a "normal" date didn't sound so bad after all.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#satoru smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#gojo#satoru#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x reader#satoru gojo x y/n#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo x reader#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#satoru x you#satoru x reader#satoru x y/n#gojo smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo satoru smut#kayu writes ! ! !
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The JjK men reacting to finding out you’re infertile. This was honestly a self-indulgent fic idea but then it won on the poll I put out and honestly I was kinda surprised people were interested! Yall picked the only fic I didn’t have finished but I do now so here it is! If you’d like a part 2 let me know! +what characters!
Toji
You didn’t tell him until years into the relationship. Sure maybe that wasn’t the healthiest thing but oh well things happened and you couldn’t change the past. And it took so long for Toji to trust you… that you just didn’t want to add another thing on top of it to deal with. I mean it took him almost a year for him to introduce you to his kids. It took him that long just to feel serious about your relationship.
And it’s not like he asked either, or used a condom. Cmon, we all know his history with women and he just kinda presumed you were on the pill, or that he’d deal with the consequences after the fact. He had two kids, this wasn’t his first time around the block. And even after he got serious with you he never brought up wanting to have another. His hands were full, and besides he wasn’t very well off. I mean you guys made it work, but that was just with the 4 of you, who knows what adding another would do.
So the conversation didn’t happen until probably 5… maybe 6 years in. Where you both had pretty much decided that you were stuck with each other. That if you lost each other at this point in life there would be no reason to restart the process of finding someone new all over again. He trusted you, and god that meant a lot coming from a man like Toji, his goal was to protect his kids and now you along with them.
Laying on the couch one night, one kid off at a sleepover the other supposed to be returning home soon. You guys trusted them… maybe a lil too much. Head resting on his chest, listening to the way his heart pounded, like it wanted to leap out of his chest and make it known just how much he loved you, how much joy he found being with you. Something he thought he’d never find again after the loss of his first wife, and the second one leaving him.
Some thriller played in the background, some movie franchise Toji was secretly a big fan of. Half empty beers sitting on the coffee table, one of his hands softly scratching your back, softer than the man had ever been before. You, aimlessly fiddling with his other hand that adorned his shiny wedding ring, one that matched yours, deciding on simple ones that didn’t cost much, but meant a lot.
“Hey Toji?” You muttered out, voice weaker than you intended, his hand on your back instinctively tightened, a simple grunt in response. Your tone of voice worried him, that tone always did, meant you’d ruin the peace with something serious, as he’d always say. But really he was just always worried it’d be something so serious that he’d end up losing you.
When you didn’t continue, he grumbled, ready for you just to spit it out. This type of atmosphere either had 1 of 2 endings to whatever conversation was going to happen, either you were super upset over something really really detrimental or it was something silly you were getting all caught up on. “What is it woman? You’re ruining the movie,” his words were harsh, but you were long past the phase of wondering if he was mad at you over simply the way he normally spoke.
“Well….Did you ever… I don’t know… question why I was so excited that you had kids?” You hummed out softly, your hand that was fiddling with the ring on his finger slowly moving to hold his hand instead. Toji had once in the past let it slip that when he had tried dating before you he often got hurt cause they didn’t want to deal with his already pre-started family. He sighed knowing you were overthinking something, “Mmm, not really, was just grateful,” that was one of the first time you had actually heard him be so openly heartfelt.
“Oh…. Well it’s cause I can’t have my own,” you hummed softly. His expression didn’t change, nothing more than an eyebrow quirking up, “Is that so doll?” He mumbled, already deciding this convo was one of the silly ones, aka option 2. You took his response as him just simply brushing you off, watching his eyes reconnect with the tv screen and his hand that was intertwined with yours, now reaching for his beer bottle, “Those kids, Megumi and Tsumiki, are just as much yours now as they are mine.” Everything he had needed to say was in that one little sentence alone.
Your eyes widened, “Oh Toji,” you muttered softly, holding back tears, “Oh Jesus don’t cry,” he huffed, resuming his hand on your back, rubbing soft soothing circles. Reaching his head down to press a kiss to the top of your head but in his head he was just glad this was one of your silly overthought moments.
Nanami
You told him on your 3rd date. Nanami was a classy man, made you feel really stupid for some of the guys you had dated in the past, so you wanted to treat him right just as he treated you.
On your first date he was stiff, and awkward even, but it was endearing in a way. You both had worked together so there was no reason for him be worried but it was nice to know that someone like Nanami could be nervous. That date was a dinner date.
Your second was a bit more relaxed, a bowling alley, an idea recommended by Gojo an annoying coworker you both shared (and bonded over complaining about). It was nice cause Nanami could get a few drinks in, relax a bit, unbutton the top button of his shirt. Strike some strikes and whatever else you did in bowling. It was nice.
Your third date was a walk through the park, a bit more impromptu but you had decided this one, invited him on it too. It was after an early mission, so you two were done around the afternoon. The sun was warm, flowers blooming, walking side by side down some path. And of course the relationship wasn’t official but Nanami knew from the first time he had saw you he wanted you.
His hand was placed respectfully on your lower back, of course after making sure you were ok with it, and trees lined the pathway you were walking on. He had haphazardly stuck a flower in your hair, one he had picked along your walk.
He was warm, comforting, made you feel like you could be you, so you wanted to be honest. “Kento… are you sure I’m the one you want?” You asked gently, eyes nervously looking up at him as you bit your lip, awaiting his response.
“Of course,” he scoffed, he may be a gentleman but he sure was sassy. “Why wouldn’t I?” He hummed tilting his head down to look at you. “Well… I just think some of are goals don’t align,” you sighed and an eyebrow raise from him was all you needed to know that he was listening.
“Well I…. Look… I can’t… I can’t give you a family,” you muttered looking away, your body becoming rigid against his, “And what do you mean by that?” His voice stern, impending, but not harsh just… curious. “Well… I can’t exactly procreate and it be successful…you get it?” You mumbled under your breath as you picked at the sides of your nails.
Oh, that’s what you meant. He nodded more as a confirmation for his inner thoughts than anything you said, he brought one of his free hands to swat at yours that were picking, “That’s fine,” he shrugged looking back ahead at the path.
“What?” You half yelled definitely hearing some bird flying away from you at the disturbance, “But you.. didn’t you wanna settle down? Have a family? I’ve heard you talk about it,” you grumbled.
He rolled his eyes, “Sure I did, but none of that would mean anything without you,” he hummed, stopping to face you. Tilting your head up by your chin, tired eyes meeting yours, “I want you and you alone. If I can’t have children so be it. You’re enough for me.”
And needless to say it was definitely official after that.
Sukuna
The king of curses was already a very scary man, and honestly talking to him could be quite… difficult to say the least. So you swore off to never tell him. And he didn’t even want the little rascals anyway.
Children were too… annoying for someone who was already so irritating himself, and a little one just like him? Hell would freeze over if that happened.
But he couldn’t deny that you made him ponder. What would it be like? Having one.. or possibly two that were a mix of you both. Or better yet he’d like it more if they were exactly like you. The world would be a better place with only one version of Sukuna Ryomen in it.
Yet he didn’t think of it often. But you knew you had to come clean soon, you could feel the way he glared at your stomach as if trying to stare straight into your uterus. When really he was just trying to figure it if you could even carry a baby from a cursed spirit like him… or if he could get a mere mortal pregnant.
He started trying to, oh so so hard to get you pregnant, every single time burying himself all the way before shooting his load. Yet you never showed any signs. Maybe he was simply incapable. That made him frown.
And that was when you hit a dry spell. He had become so worried that he was shooting blanks or that it was simply impossible to have kids because he was a curse. He was a lot more grouchy, and a lot less touchy. Sukuna already found cuddling and the sorts useless but now? Oh he’d barely look at you now.
He was always easily agitated so you often had found it easier to avoid conflict but he was making it seem like you didn’t even exist. One night you burst into his chambers, a little more attitude in the way you shoved the doors open than you usual.
“Tell me,” you called out standing firmly at the edge of his bed, fuming as your first clenched. His raspy, booming laugh resounding amongst the room. “Tell you what exactly? I owe you nothing,” he hummed remaining in his relaxed position on his lavishly large bed.
“You’ve barely spoken to me or even looked at me in a week? You used to be insatiable what is the problem!” You scrambled out. He clicked his tongue as he rolled his eyes, “Tsk, it’s none of your business how I spend my time. If it bothers you then shoo.”
You groaned, you knew him better than that, he wasn’t being truthful. “Sukuna tell me or I will leave this time, I am done playing this game with you.” Narrowing his eyes he took a good long pause before speaking, pointing down to your abdomen, “You show no signs of pregnancy despite multiple times in the bedroom. I’m confused aren’t most women your age fertile?” He jested, quirking a brow.
“Oh,” you muttered straightening up as you sighed. He sensed the noticeable change, “Your soul’s wavering, you know I can feel it, spit it out,” he said, glaring at you, but his look was one more of concern, you could always tell the difference. “Well I uh…”
You walked around to sit on your side of the bed, really he’d never call it that to your face, before you he’d always just sprawled out. Now he made sure to leave that space empty. “Look I…. I can’t have em,” his brow raised, “Have what? You’re being cryptic mortal.”
You groaned, “Kids! I can’t have kids,” that was laughable. Wait you weren’t joking? Sukuna quickly realized that, “What are you deformed?” He teased but it didn’t help the way your eyes got all dewy. He grumbled, he may be practically a demon….. but he did care enough for you to be in his bed next to him.
“So you cannot produce my heir,” and all you could respond with was a shake of your head, confirming. To Sukuna this made him feel a million times better. He wasn’t shooting blanks you simply just weren’t able to be impregnated. He was joyous if not for the tone of the situation.
“Does not matter,” you shot your head over, a confused look on your face. “You wouldn’t have been able to carry my baby anyways, I’m far too powerful for a mortal to carry my heir,” he teased, and while he had his signature smirk you could see the slight tenderness through it.
This may have been one of the only times he seemed to have understood your turmoil. And also the only time for him to have been the first one to initiate physical contact, pulling you into his chest. One hand running protectively over your back, another in your hair, the other two wrapping around you. “Do not fret, calm your soul dear,” his deep voice muttered out soothingly. And that was probably the best you had ever slept.
#jjk#jjk fic#jjk x reader#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#nanami x reader#nanami kento#jjk nanami#jujutsu nanami#nanami x you#toji fluff#toji x y/n#toji x you#toji smut#jujutsu toji#jjk toji#jujutsu kaisen toji#ryomen sukuna#jjk ryomen#ryomen x reader#ryomen fluff#jujutsu kaisen ryomen#jujutsu ryomen#jujutsu kaisen nanami#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#nanami fluff#nanami x y/n#jjk fanfic#jjk x you
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KNOW YOUR AUDIENCE
starring. pro hero!katsuki bakugo x pro hero!gn!reader
summary. set several months into the fake relationship, bakugo doesn't really like you and you tolerate him, but you both know how to appease an audience | 1.7k words
content. fake dating (obvi), second person pov, bakugo having conflicting feelings, use of 'y/n' and 'l/n' for last name, fluff if you squint, x is still twitter bc i said so, reader has a pet cat, this feels choppy to me
a/n. first time writing in awhile AND first fic post AND and i didn't fully get into the flow until i was almost done so be patient i might rewrite this after awhile
navigation – masterpost
The cameras ate up every helping you two gave them. You and Katsuki were extremely lovey dovey around the cameras no matter where they were, but when there wasn't a camera or paparazzi or a fan around you two, neither of you said much.
It had been arranged by your managers without much input from either of you, to fake date, that is. It was for approval ratings, popularity polls, and although you individually did well enough on your own, together you shot up the charts. Neither of you particularly liked each other but you could be civil to each other, and you knew how to play a camera, so it was working out well.
Now you sat, thigh to thigh next to Katsuki with his left hand held in your lap with both of your hands, smiling at the interviewer talking to the two of you. He wasn't smiling, although that was normal. The crowd, filled with live audience members and other paparazzi looking for the perfect shot, stared in awe at the perfect couple the two of you were.
When the interviewer would ask a question, you'd turn and wait for Katsuki to say something first, and if he didn't or he turned to face you, that meant it was your turn to answer the question.
”Now, there is one question that a lot of your individual and combined fans have been asking a lot lately.” The interviewer, Notaui, began, although he paused, waiting for some kind of approval from the two of you.
You started to nod a yes, and Katsuki spoke up. ”Go on.” He sounded annoyed. He always sounded annoyed though, and you were internally rolling your eyes, although that never poked through to your facial expression. Pure focus in media and PR training had taught you how to maintain an expression while feeling something else entirely.
”Can we expect to hear of a save the date anytime in the near future?” Notaui lifted his brows up at the happy couple. You turn your head to Katsuki, but he freezes, and you squeeze his hand, letting him know you would take care of it. After all, this was bound to come up eventually, and you were prepared.
”Notaui c'mon, wouldn't that ruin the surprise of a proposal?” You say with a laugh, getting the attention off Katsuki for a few moments. At the sound of your laugh, your counterpart dry laughs right along with you. You didn't need a quirk to feel the realisation of the stupidity of the question ripple through the audience. ”Besides we're in no hurry.” You continue, turning and smiling at the crowd with a wink.
The answer you gave was perfect, Katsuki knew that. He also knew that his manager would praise him for letting you handle it, but it still pissed him off a little bit, even if the rewards got him exactly where he'd wanted to be since he decided he wanted to be a pro hero.
Notaui cleared his throat, and his cheeks got a little rosy out of what most would assume was embarrassment, but you could tell, it was disappointment from not getting the answer the producers wanted.
”You just say when.” Notaui laughed, winking at the camera. It made both you and Katsuki question how this guy got his own show, but nobody knew that. ”Oh and guess what, that's time.” He announced, telling you, Katsuki and the audience that the segment of you two sitting there looking perfect, was over.
Katsuki stood up before you did, and with your hands holding his, you were quick to follow suit.
You walked over to Notaui, releasing Katsuki’s hand to shake his, politely thanking him for having the two of you on. Katsuki didn’t shake the guy’s hand, instead just nodding along with your words before ushering off the stage just behind you, barely sparing a second glance at the audience you smiled and waved at. Still, you smiled as you politely thanked all of the behind the scenes crew, just like your manager had told you while Katsuki floated around you, hands in his pockets.
When you two finally managed your way into the elevator and the doors shut, you both let our heavy sighs almost simultaneously. You glanced over at Katsuki, who had looked over to you at the same time. We’re spending too much time together. You thought to yourself, eyes returning to anything but him.
The ding of the elevator had your smile returning and your hand reaching for Katsuki’s for just a moment longer as you left the building, where a car had been pulled around for you both. Letting go of his hand, you reached forward, pulling the back door open before sliding all the way over to the farthest seat. Katsuki got in, sitting closest to the door he pulled shut. This left just the middle seat between you two.
“Well that was bullshit.” Katsuki muttered, arms crossed while his eyes glared out the tinted window. You turned your head to him momentarily, rolling your eyes as your head turned back to looking out your own window.
“For once I agree with you.” You responded, reaching into your purse for your phone. It’d become routine now, to check your phone after every time you and Katsuki would go out together. First you open your messages, giving a thumbs up response to your manager’s text about doing great. Then you read your mom’s text about how proud she and your father were to see you on TV, which you half-smile at. They didn’t know your relationship with Katsuki wasn’t real. Your mom gets a ‘thanks mom :)’ text back, and you close out of your texts.
Deciding against checking your email, you click on the blue icon with a white bird on it. You ignore the top tweets in your timeline, moving over to the explore page. There it is.
“We’re trending again.” You say into the air, eyes never leaving your phone screen. Katsuki just hums in response. You tap the trending tag, scrolling through tweet after tweet. Of course there were a few people who hated you, or Katsuki, or both of you, but most of the tweets were big hero culture news outlets and fans raving about you guys. Sometimes you did feel a little guilty about the whole thing. Making people happy made you happy, but it’s not like any of it is true. Regardless, you go ahead and like some of the fan tweets.
Katsuki leans his head back against the headrest of his seat. He mumbles something under his breath and you turn to him. “What?” You ask him, eyes scanning his face.
He huffs, desperately willing himself not to roll his eyes as he always does. “I said, you’re too good at this, (L/n). Better than you should be, anyways.” He says, looking away from you. You quirk a brow up at him. “I mean-” He pauses, as if thinking over his words. “how are you always so cheerful with the fans and press?” The questions echoes in your ears.
“Easy. I think about going home.” You responded, more nonchalantly than you left. Of course the lie was tiring, but being in your own bed, surrounding by blankets and pillows and your cat Zero, his different fur colours always keeping him quite clear in your vision in contrast to the shades of your bedding as your eyes scan over the screen of your laptop, giggling at the youtube video displayed on the screen.
Katsuki looks at you.. oddly? It’s almost a scowl, but not quite. It’s almost like he’s simply displeased. You stare right back at him and pull your lips tight together, silently reiterating your words. He grunts in response, it’s his nonverbal version of ‘okay.’
As the driver rounds the last corner before your apartment, you notice something in your peripheral vision. Was that..? You question, eyes looking into the driver’s rear view mirror. You can’t be sure of what you’re seeing since the angle is meant for the driver, not a passenger, but when the car stops just outside the carpark of your apartment complex, you take the chance to glance back as your readjust in your seat, gathering your purse and looking around for anything else you may have left behind in the car. Cameras. You were seeing cameras, maybe they were fans, maybe they were paparazzi, that you couldn’t tell.
You reached for the door handle, when you felt your phone buzz. Sighing shortly, you reach for your phone, a text from your manager being the sole notification at the bottom of the screen. Without clicking it, your Face ID unlocks your phone, switching the text from a new message notification, to showing the contents of the text. It tells you that there are eyes on you and Katsuki which, granted, you knew, but it always made you shiver at how she always knew.
While you didn’t like the idea of inviting a man prone to outbursts into your safe haven, you still acted immediately. You couldn’t help how your media-trained mind worked. “Give me your jacket and come with me.” You say into the air, words clearly meant for Katsuki and he looks over to you from the window, confused while you typed back an ‘okay’ text to your manager.
When he didn’t move immediately, you lifted your eyes from the screen and looked at him. “Bakugo, now.” You told him, eyes looking at him almost as if he was crazy. Katsuki began to shed his jacket, handing it over to you with a frown.
“Why am I going with you?” He asks, rolling his shoulders back. You start to drape the jacket over your shoulders.
“I’ll tell you when we get upstairs.” You huff, offering your hand out to him. “Ready?”
All he does is slide his hand into yours, interlocking your fingers with a nod and a grunt.
Oh the things you do to remain at the top.
@ STARLITRAYS : please do not translate or repost my works without my expressed consent and permission. please do not copy any of my works.
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