#I shouldn’t beat myself up about it

[turtledork02]

Optimus Prime

I’m working on a TF AU and I’m trying to get back into the habit of drawing transformers again why is it so hard

Comments and asks are really appreciated!!

[notkirbiinut]

I sometimes feel really bad for not finishing things because of how lazy I can be ngl

[zippityzap]

Man, I really underestimated how engrossed I’d get into totk and how unproductive it would make me over the past week or so

[agoralgia]

keep making big changes all at once cos i’m doing real bad

[holydramon]

finished magia record and it sure was. an anime.

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[gardenwons]

LET ME IN, PLEASE🥛

SYNOPSIS As the new doorman for the shabby apartment complex, you learn quickly to recognize imposters until eventually a cunning doppelganger entered the building—also making its way in you.

PAIRINGS: doppelganger!jungwon x doorman!reader

WARNINGS: smut with plot, dom!jungwon, making out, unprotected sex, breeding kink, praising, blood, lowkey mean won(?)

A/N: loosely based on "that's not my neighbor," was vv in love w/ the milkman pls he's a sweet boy and it was supposed to be seung but jw my love it is!

5 minutes till the end of shift.

And in the past few hours of your shift, the scene at the checkpoint remained tense yet controlled. Behind the desk, you tapped away as you await the next individual on the list. Hours had been spent meticulously weighing each resident’s reasons and paperwork, a task heavy on your shoulders each time.

You were startled by the sudden creak of the door, which swung open to reveal a tired-looking man. His eyes betrayed his exhaustion, yet he managed a weary smile as he approached the window. "Hello, here’s my ID," he said, placing it on the counter with an air of casualness, his gaze drifting away as he stifled a yawn. His hair, tousled beneath a hat that hinted at his profession.

You inspect his ID with a mix of weariness and curiosity. He seems new? you wonder to yourself, but quickly push the thought aside. "Entry request, please?" you ask, meeting his already fixed stare with a gentle smile as he hands over the necessary paperwork. "Ah, yes... forgot about it, sorry" he mutters apologetically. You accept the documents, scanning them carefully before glancing over to your left. "You’re not on today’s list?" you observe, noting a slight raise of his eyebrows as he shakes his head. "I'm supposed to be there? Probably an error" he mutters, his response prompting a hint of suspicion in your gaze.

Cautiously, you check his phone number and attempt to dial it. "I'm sorry, sir, but you must be on the list to be let–" Before you can finish, he interrupts, addressing you by name. "___?...right?" he questions, his lips forming a tight line as he pleads, "I'm really tired today. If you could just be a sweetheart and–" Suddenly, the phone rings, and you hastily pick it up, your heart skipping a beat as you hear the voice on the other end. "Hello? Jungwon speaking–" The realization hits you– how can the man in front of you look undetectable? His eyes lock onto yours as he blurts out, "Fuck." It's clear he knows he's been caught.

Shaking uncontrollably, you were on the verge of dialling the emergency number when he suddenly slammed his fist against the window, causing you to let out a scream. "Don’t make this hard for me now, angel" he said, his tone surprisingly gentle despite his earlier aggressive action. The encounter with this doppelganger was unlike anything you had experienced before – simultaneously strange and alluring, perhaps due to the handsome facade he wore, and god did he wear it well.

"Let me in or..." he trailed off, a glimmer of malice and lust flickering in his eyes as his lips curled into a smirk. "-I’ll let myself in." Despite the magnetic pull you felt towards him, and the undeniable surge of attraction coursing through your body, you pressed the emergency button. Watching as the metal wall descended, separating you from him. Jungwon's curses echoed loudly from behind the barrier as you continued to dial the D.D.D.

"You have contacted the D.D.D. A group of agents has been sent to your building" the automated voice informed, bringing a momentary sense of relief as you awaited assistance. But his next words shattered that peace. "You know I could kill them all and still get through to you, hm?" he taunted over the metal barriers, causing your heart to race even faster. "Or maybe that’s what you wanted?” Jungwon sighed, clenching your thighs together as you heard him chuckle. “Sweet girls like you shouldn’t play games like this" he scolded with a tsk, following with “It does however, make me want to devour you more”

Huddled in your seat, you listened as the agents rushed in, screams filling the air for what felt like an eternity. For what seemed like so many agonizing minutes later, silence fell upon the room. Trembling, you called out, receiving no response. With caution, you deactivated the emergency button, watching as the metal wall retracted, revealing a gruesome scene before you. Jungwon stood amidst the lifeless bodies of the yellow-suited agents, his back heaving with exhaustion. Blood covered his face and hands, dripping onto the ground.

Unable to find your voice, you watched in horror and awe as Jungwon approached your window, his eyes softened, ruby painted hands clasped together in a pleading gesture as he begged, "Please, I... I didn't mean to. I just wanted to go in." His lips formed a pout, his eyes glossy, yet his face was streaked with blood. Hat nowhere to be found, his hair was ruffled, with some strands sticking to his blood-stained face, "I know i messed up, just let me make it up to you inside" he continued pleading, his lips curving into a genuine smile as he sensed your resolve wavering. Despite the firmness in your stance, his appearance – bloodied, hair tousled, voice filled with desperation stirred something within you, whether you had a clear head you knew the heat was getting to you down there. He gestured toward the green button, the one that would unlock the door, his gaze unwavering as he directly addressed you. "Press that for me, please?" he instructed, as if your better judgment didn't matter. And at that moment, it didn't. 

You found yourself slowly reaching for the unlock button, his presence casting a mesmerizing spell over you. "Ah, that’s my girl" Jungwon praised, his words sending a rush of heat to your cheeks. Yet, beneath his seemingly genuine appreciation, there lurked a sinister undertone, evident in the chuckle that escaped him as the doors clicked open.

Without hesitation, he winked at you and slipped inside, leaving you feeling breathless and foolish. "What have I done?" you muttered to yourself, but before you could fully grasp the weight of your actions, the door to the office swung open behind you. Turning, you found yourself face to face with the bloodied man once again, his eyes fixated on you like a predator sizing up its prey. A chill ran down your spine as he licked the stain of blood from his lips. "Can’t just leave without giving my girl a reward, can I?" he teased, his voice dripping with a dark promise.

As you instinctively reached for the nearest makeshift weapon, Jungwon's eyes rolled with a playful smirk. "Aren’t you adorable? If I wanted you dead, I would've done so earlier" he teased. Jungwon’s words hung heavy in the air as he advanced towards you, his expression softening into that same endearing pout.

"You've done so well for me, angel" he cooed, his arms enveloping yours, causing your heart to race as his scent enveloped you—metallic from the dried blood and musky, intoxicating in its allure. Leaning in, his hair falling gently over his eyes, he fixed his gaze on you, seeming to see right through you, transparent in your vulnerability.

"I could be yours, please let me in" he whispered, his lips brushing against yours, waiting for your consent.

Without hesitation, you pressed your lips to his, feeling him sigh contentedly against you. His hand slid to the back of your head, tangling in your hair as he gently pulled you closer. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a warm path in their wake. Gripping your hair, he tugged on it, drawing a moan from your lips.

His lips continued their journey down your neck, each kiss growing more intense as his grip tightened on your hair, drawing you closer to him. Jungwon’s breath was hot against your skin, his mouth teasing the sensitive spots just below your ear, sending shivers down your spine. He adored the way your body reacted to him, the subtle arch of your back, the soft gasp that escaped your lips, it all fueled his desire. His other hand slipped down your side, fingers grazing over your curves, leaving a trail of fire in their graze.

As his lips found their way back to yours, his kiss became more demanding, his tongue slipping past your lips in a heated dance with yours. The taste of him so metallic, dark, and utterly intoxicating—clouded your senses, making it impossible to think clearly, to think logically. His hands were everywhere, exploring your body with a possessiveness that made your knees weak. Jungwon pushed you against the wall, his body pressed firmly against yours, the heat between you both intense. His hand slipped beneath your shirt, fingers brushing over your bare skin, sending waves of pleasure through you.

Jungwon broke the kiss, panting slightly as he gazed down at you with a mix of adoration and hunger in his eyes. "You feel so good, sweet angel" he murmured, his voice thick with lust as his hand slid lower, teasing the waistband of your pants. He gave you a wicked smile before slipping his hand beneath the fabric, finding your most sensitive spot with ease. His fingers moved with expert precision, thrusting in your walls, drawing out moans from you as he leaned in to kiss you again, swallowing every sound you made. The world outside ceased to exist as you lost yourself in his touch, the innocent people already forgotten as the intensity of your connection left you breathless and wanting more.

Jungwon's fingers moved with a skilled rhythm, each stroke sending jolts of pleasure through your body. His lips trailed along your jawline, nipping gently at your skin as he worked you closer to the edge. You could feel the tension building within you, your breathe coming in shallow gasps as his touch became more insistent, more demanding. He seemed to sense the exact moment when you were about to tip over the edge, pulling back slightly just to tease you, watching with dark, lustful eyes as you writhed in his arms, desperate for release.

A loud smack echoed through the room as his hand connected with your ass, his eyes glaring down at you. "Patience, angel" he whispered, his voice low and husky, filled with a dark amusement. He relished in your need, the way your body responded so eagerly to his touch. Maybe this was just as delicious as eating flesh. His thumb brushed over your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure through you, making your knees buckle as he held you up against the wall. "I want to see you fall apart for me" he growled, his voice thick with desire as he pressed his lips against yours again, the kiss deep and consuming.

With a final, skilled flick of his fingers, he sent you spiraling into a powerful climax, your body shaking against his as you moaned his name. Jungwon watched with a satisfied smirk as you came undone in his arms, his hand never stopping its movements, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from your trembling body. When you finally came down from your high, he gently removed his hand, bringing it up to his lips as he licked his fingers clean, eyes locked onto yours with a possessive intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

With a sudden, forceful grip, Jungwon spun you around, pressing your chest against the cold metal desk. His breath was hot against your neck as he yanked your skirt up, not wasting a moment before tearing away the thin fabric covering your core. "You're mine, aren't you?" he growled, his voice rough and filled with a dark hunger. You barely had time to respond before he thrust into you with no warning, filling you completely, the sharp pain mixing with pleasure as your body adjusted to his size.

"Fuck, you take me so well" he groaned, his hips snapping against you with a brutal pace, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. Each thrust was hard, merciless, and deep, driving you forward on the desk. His hand found your hair again, yanking your head back as he leaned down, his teeth grazing your ear. "You're going to take every drop of me, let me fill you up until you're dripping with me."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the rough edge to his voice only heightening the intensity of the moment. Jungwon’s pace was relentless, every thrust pushing you closer to the edge. His grip on your hair tightened, pulling you back further as he forced you to arch, the angle driving him even deeper. "Good angel" he praised, though his tone carried a mocking edge, a smirk can be heard through it. "You love this, don't you? Being fucked like this, knowing I could fill you up right now” You could only moan in response, the overwhelming sensations rendering you speechless. The slickness of your arousal mixed with the occasional streak of blood from where his nails had dug into your skin, a reminder of the rawness of the situation. Jungwon’s other hand moved to grip your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pounded into you intensely. "Say it" he commanded, his voice low and commanding. "Tell me you want it. Tell me you want to be filled, bred by me."

Your body was trembling, barely able to hold on as you gasped out the words he wanted to hear. "I want it" you managed to choke out between moans. "I want you to fill me up please" the coherent you would have pushed him away, clearly realizing this wasn’t even the real Jungwon.

A satisfied growl rumbled from his chest as he picked up the pace, slamming into you with enough force to make you see stars. "That’s right, angel" he groaned, his grip tightening as he drove you both towards the edge. "Take all of me. You’re going to be so full of me, there won't be any doubt who you belong to."

With a final deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his body tensing as he released into you. The warmth of his seed filling you sent you over the edge, your body shaking around him as you climaxed, your cries of pleasure bouncing in the room. Even as the waves of pleasure washed over you, Jungwon stayed inside, his hands still gripping you possessively.

Breathless and spent, he leaned over you, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, his voice soft but firm. "I knew you would taste so sweet" he murmured, leaning in to kiss you once more, his lips lingering on yours as he whispered, "And now... you're mine, angel." He stepped back, his eyes filled with dark satisfaction, the taste of you still on his lips as he gave you one last, lingering look before turning to leave. You watched him go, your body still trembling, cum dripping down you legs as your mind swirled with a mixture of fear, confusion, and disturbing attraction. The door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving you alone with the echoes of your own rapid breathing and the scent of him still clinging to your skin.

You slumped against the wall, trying to make sense of what had just happened, the reality of it slowly sinking in. You knew you should feel horrified, disgusted even, but all you could think about was the way he had made you feel, the dark, consuming passion that had ignited between you two. It terrified you, but at the same time, you couldn't deny the magnetic pull you felt towards him, a pull that had led you to do the unthinkable. As you slowly gathered yourself, your heart still racing, one thought lingered in your mind: this was far from over.

taglist:

@slvrnm @moonpri @jaheydane @mintdsunoo @yawnzzhoon

@ilovejungwonandhaechan

@sacrificeatmeup @beomluvrr

@uwudaizy @geraldsmochi

@ilovecats923 @millieinyourarea

@missoxy @txtbeomi

@moonchus @nyxtwixx

@enhypenlovre @jwonistic

@denleave1088 @seongiewon

[rememberwren]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Easy breezy beautiful premature ejaculation. Hypersexual!Simon/fem!reader. Discussion of edging. Cumming untouched.

-

“If we do this,” he says around his cigarette, “then we do it my way.”

“I’ve never done this before,” you admit cautiously, turning your hands palm up as if to show you have no weapons, no tricks up your sleeve. I’m innocuous, your posture says. His own says: I’m still deciding, with his tense shoulders and narrowed eyes. “This weird, femdom thing. So I appreciate your guidance. Because I know fuck all—“

“You’re no femdom—Jesus, fuck, I can’t talk about it anymore,” he grits out. He takes a step back and away, creating distance, exhaling a plume of smoke that makes him look strangely ethereal in the evening light. Against your will, your eyes flicker down to just below his belt buckle and oh god. He’s hard. 

“Just from talking about it?”

The look he gives you could melt ice. It could sublimate it. You cringe, knowing you were in the wrong, wishing you could reach out and snatch the words right out of the air. He’s trusting you with this. The last thing he needs is to feel like a joke. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I shouldn’t have—you’re not a, a science experiment or something—“

“Wouldn’t mind that so much. Might figure out what the fuck’s wrong with me. Less interested in being treated like I’m part of a circus troupe,” he grumbles. He drops the cigarette and grinds it to ash beneath his boot. He asks: “Inside?�� 

-

Gingerly, so gingerly, he undoes the button of his jeans and unzips them. He holds his breath as he works the denim down his thick thighs. God, is he built: muscles made for more than just show. His history is inscribed on his body in its strength and in its scars, scars of white and pale pinks that darken to purple in the lamplight. He’s wearing boxer briefs, straining at the front from his erection, and they are soaked. You’re surprised that he hasn’t soaked straight through to his jeans. 

“Don’t look,” he grits out through his teeth. You look away, unsure where to cast your eyes to, and settle for shutting them. He explains: “Can’t take the way you’re looking at me.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, feeling your face flush hot. 

“Just—let me—” you hear the sound of fabric rustling. He kicks off his jeans—you can tell by the soft sound of them landing against the floor off the side of the bed. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck.” 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, eyes squeezed shut, hands clenching in your lap. 

“Nothing just—fuck. No way I’m going to last.” He sounds bitterly disappointed. 

“That’s the point of this, right? To get better at lasting?” 

He sighs, a long-suffering sound, like this discussion is well worn and frustrating to him. Something in you shrivels, and it takes your body with it as best as it can, sending your shoulders hunching inwards, your head ducking down. You pick at one of your nails by feel alone, eyes still closed, and nearly jump when his fingers brush your knee. 

“Sorry,” he mutters. “You’re right. That’s what this is for. Might as well get used to embarrassing myself.” 

“That’s the spirit." 

He snorts. More fabric rustles, and at length he says: “Alright. You can look. Just…you can look.” 

You open your eyes hesitantly. His cock is right there—and Jesus. It makes sense, proportionally, but it is frightening in a very real sense. You’re already doing the math, measuring in your head and comparing to your past precedents. Ghost would have them all beat, quite comfortably, in length and girth. He’s cut, which surprises you, but isn’t a turnoff. He keeps himself landscaped nicely, which you appreciate, even if it isn’t necessary. 

He is flushed a ruddy pink, the head darker than the rest. As you stare, it jerks, a bead of precum welling at the tip. Suddenly one of his large, scarred hands reaches down and grips the base of his cock in a painful hold, hissing in a breath through his teeth. 

“Can’t look at me like that,” he admonishes again. 

“Like what?” you ask, a little defensive. You’re just looking! You have to look, right? 

“Like you want it,” he mutters. 

God, does he really have no idea? No inkling of how badly you want to sit on that monster in his hands? No notion of how wet you’ve been since your conversation in the parking lot? Sure you aren't like him, not about to spring off if the breeze was just right, but you are anything but unaffected. Still, it seems like the wrong moment to educate him on your attraction to him and his cock, so you do your best to morph your expression into one of unimpressed ambivalence and hoped it helps. 

“I’m ready when you are,” you say, interrupting his deep breathing exercises. He nods but doesn’t give you the go-ahead, not for another minute or two, until his chest stops heaving and he can remove his hand from the vice grip he has around his balls. His cock has a near purple tinge, and you wonder if maybe he should have rubbed one out in the bathroom beforehand just to take the edge off. Oh well, it’s a thought for next time. 

“Go ahead,” he says, like he’s giving you permission to pull the trigger on him during a game of Russian Roulette. 

You reach out—his cock twitches, a nice warm welcome if you’ve ever seen one, but you hesitate. Your hand is dry. Should you ask for lube? How does he usually jerk off? Dry? You have a feeling he doesn’t mind the discomfort; he seems like he has a self-destructive streak a mile wide. His eyes are fixed at a point on the ceiling, his chest unmoving as he holds his breath. You decide that some sort of lubrication is better than none—so you lick a broad stripe up your palm. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, a little punched-out sound. Sometime between opening your mouth and licking your palm, his eyes had transferred from the ceiling to your face, to the flash of your tongue and your wet palm. His eyes widen, irises swallowed up by the pupils, and he says again, more urgently: “Oh fuck.” 

He reaches down to grip the base of his cock again, but it is too late: he cums. His abs are thrown into sharp relief as he tenses with each pulse, cock jerking against his brutal grip. He doesn’t even jerk himself off—just ruins it as you stare with your mouth open and your hand wet, watching him splatter seed against the coarse line of hair that runs from his belly button to his cock all because he watched you lick your hand. 

“Fuuuuuuck,” he groans, throwing one arm across his eyes, breathing heavily. His mouth is flushed a pretty red, like he has been kissing. His hand clenches into a fist as he says: “I’m sorry. I tried not to.” 

“It’s okay,” you say, your nearly brain blue-screening from how turned on you are. You lower your hand and wipe it dry on your leggings. “That’s what this practice is for—so you don’t do it when it really counts. We can try again tomorrow or something.” 

He snorts. “Tomorrow? Give me five fucking minutes.” 

[cherryxbooo]

I’ll do anything to make you happy

Summary: You were excited for winter break to start because it meant one thing: spending more time with Lando. But little did you know, that was the one thing you wouldn't be getting.

Reader x Lando Norris

Genre: fluff/angst

Winter always held a special kind of charm for me.

The frosty mornings, cozy blankets, and steaming cups of cocoa had always made this season my favorite.

But this year, it held a different promise: Lando finally had a break from racing.

After months of hectic schedules, jet-setting across the globe, and stolen moments in between races, I was looking forward to having him all to myself.

At first, it was everything I’d imagined and more.

We spent lazy mornings tangled in bed, with me teasing him about his messy hair while he pulled me closer, claiming I was his personal heater.

Breakfasts turned into brunches because we couldn’t stop talking or joking around.

We watched movies, baked cookies that turned out terrible, and played endless rounds of Mario Kart, which I always managed to win.

“You’re only winning because I’m letting you,” Lando said one evening, his grin teasing as he tossed the controller onto the couch.

“Sure you are,” I replied, laughing as I grabbed my victory snack from the table.

Those first few days felt like we were in our own little world, where nothing else mattered but us.

But soon, reality began creeping in.

It started innocently enough.

“Babe, Max just called,” Lando said one morning, leaning against the counter with his coffee mug in hand.

“He’s organizing a karting session. Shouldn’t take long.”

I smiled, my heart swelling with pride.

Racing was his passion, and I loved seeing him happy. “Go have fun. Just don’t let him beat you.”

“Never,” he said with a wink, kissing my temple quickly before heading out.

That day, I didn’t mind the quiet. I worked on some projects, caught up with friends, and even took a long bath.

By the time he got home, his cheeks were flushed with cold, and he couldn’t stop talking about how much fun he’d had.

But karting soon turned into golf.

Golf turned into poker nights. And poker nights turned into outings that stretched late into the night.

“I’ll be back soon,” he’d text, always with a heart emoji. But “soon” became later and later each time.

I told myself it was fine. He deserved this break.

He’d worked so hard all year, and if spending time with his friends helped him unwind, who was I to complain?

But as the days wore on, the house began to feel emptier, and so did I.

One evening, I decided to surprise him with his favorite dinner.

I spent hours in the kitchen, setting the table with candles and dimming the lights for a cozy atmosphere.

When Lando walked through the door, his expression softened as he took in the setup.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said, wrapping his arms around me.

“I wanted to,” I replied, smiling up at him.

“You’ve been so busy, and I thought it’d be nice to have a quiet night together.”

“That’s so sweet,” he said, leaning down to kiss me.

“But the guys are waiting for me. I promised I’d meet them for drinks tonight. Let’s rain check this?”

My smile faltered, but I nodded. “Of course.”

He kissed me again and was out the door before I could say anything more.

I sat down at the table, staring at the empty chair across from me.

The candles flickered, their light reflecting off the untouched plates. I took a deep breath, telling myself it was okay.

But deep down, a tiny crack had formed in my heart.

Days turned into weeks, and the cracks only deepened.

Lando’s absence became more noticeable, and I began to feel like a ghost in our own home.

One evening, after scrolling through endless photos of him with his friends on Instagram, I called Mia, my best friend.

“What’s wrong?” she asked the moment she picked up.

I sighed, the weight of my emotions pressing down on me.

“It’s Lando. He’s been spending so much time with his friends lately, and I feel like I’m… invisible.”

Mia was quiet for a moment before saying, “Y/N, you’re not invisible. But you need to talk to him. He’s not a mind reader.”

“I don’t want to seem clingy,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re not clingy. You’re his girlfriend. He should want to spend time with you. Talk to him.”

Her words gave me the push I needed. That night, when Lando came home, I gathered my courage.

“Can we talk?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Of course,” he said, sitting down next to me.

I took a deep breath.

“I’ve been feeling… neglected lately. I know you’re enjoying your break, and I want you to have fun, but I miss us. I miss you.”

He frowned, reaching for my hand.

“Babe, I’m sorry if it feels that way. But I’m here now, aren’t I?”

I nodded, but his words didn’t ease the ache in my chest. Before I could say more, he kissed me and stood up.

“Max needs help with something,” he said, grabbing his keys. “Love you!”

And just like that, he was gone. Again.

I tried my best to push away all negative thoughts until I thought about the positive ones.

Our second anniversary was just days away, and I held onto the hope that he’d make it special.

I told myself the late nights didn’t matter. He was probably planning something incredible for our anniversary.

The next day,

The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft golden hues.

I stretched lazily, a content smile curling my lips as I reached across the bed.

My fingers met cold sheets. The space beside me was empty.

I frowned, the giddy excitement I had woken up with faltering.

Today was our second anniversary.

I had imagined waking up wrapped in Lando’s arms, whispering sleepy “Happy anniversary” wishes before sharing breakfast together.

Instead, he was gone.

I also realized that I hadn't heard him come back last night.

He told me he was just helping Max out with something, but he probably went out partying with his friends afterward, again.

I tried to shake off the disappointment as I climbed out of bed, brushing my hair out of my face.

Maybe he had planned a surprise and needed to step out early.

A flutter of hope lifted my spirits as I grabbed my robe and headed toward the kitchen.

The scent of coffee greeted me, but there was no sign of Lando.

Instead, on the counter, I found a note written in his familiar scrawl:

“Gone golfing with the guys. Be back later. Love you.”

My heart sank. Golfing? On our anniversary?

I swallowed the lump rising in my throat, trying to focus on the fact that he had said he’d be back later.

He wouldn’t forget our dinner, right?

We’d planned this evening together weeks ago, and I’d been looking forward to it ever since.

I folded the note and placed it aside, telling myself not to overthink it. He would be back in time.

He promised.

After a quick breakfast, I set to work preparing for the evening.

My heart thudded with a mix of excitement and nervousness as I laid out my plans.

Lando had been so busy lately, and this was my chance to remind him how much I loved him, despite everything.

I spent hours in the kitchen, cooking all his favorite dishes: his go-to pasta, a roasted chicken dish he always requested, and even the dessert I’d failed at three times before finally perfecting.

The smells of herbs, garlic, and chocolate filled the apartment, making it feel warm and inviting.

Between stirring pots and chopping vegetables, I took breaks to set up the dining table.

I draped it with a soft cream tablecloth, adding candles and a scattering of rose petals for a romantic touch.

Fairy lights hung along the walls, casting a cozy glow that made the space feel magical.

On the counter, I carefully placed his gift, a sleek watch he had admired months ago but never bought for himself.

Not forgetting to attach a handwritten note to the box.

With everything ready, I checked the clock.

It was almost evening. So I had to hurry up to get ready.

I slipped into the dress I had chosen weeks ago, a soft, fitted number I knew he loved on me.

My makeup was simple yet elegant, and I added the finishing touch, a spritz of the perfume Lando had gifted me for my last birthday.

I felt beautiful, excited, and nervous all at once as I sat on the couch, watching the clock.

Five minutes passed. Then ten.

By the time twenty minutes had gone by, I grabbed my phone, texting him a quick, “Hey, are you on your way?”

No response.

An hour later, I texted again. Then called. Still nothing.

My excitement turned into a gnawing worry that sat heavy in my chest.

Where was he? Had he forgotten?

Two hours passed.

The candles on the table had burned down halfway, their flickering flames reflecting off the now-cold plates of food.

The fairy lights, once magical, now felt like mockery.

Finally, three hours later, I gave up.

Tears stung my eyes as I blew out the candles, packed away the food, and removed my dress, exchanging it for soft pajamas.

My makeup was smeared with tears by the time I climbed into bed.

I grabbed my phone one last time, and my heart shattered when I saw the Instagram story.

It was one of Lando’s friends, showing a clip of him laughing, drink in hand, surrounded by his friends.

He looked happy. Carefree.

And completely oblivious that tonight was our anniversary.

The tears came faster, hot and uncontrollable. I buried my face in the pillow, the ache in my chest overwhelming.

I had been so sure he’d come back, that he’d remember. But I was wrong.

Later that night,

The apartment was cloaked in silence when Lando opened the front door, the click of the lock echoing faintly in the stillness.

He stumbled inside the weight of exhaustion and faint traces of guilt tugging at his chest.

The soft glow of the streetlights outside illuminated the darkened space just enough for him to make out his surroundings.

Something felt… off.

He reached for the light switch, and as the room was bathed in warm light, his eyes landed on the dining table across from him.

He froze.

The table was beautifully decorated, candles placed strategically, now melted into small stubs, surrounded by rose petals that had been artfully scattered.

Plates of food were neatly covered with lids to keep them from going bad, but even from a distance, Lando could tell they were his favorites.

He took a tentative step forward, his stomach sinking further with each movement.

Resting near the center of the table was a small, wrapped box with a note attached to it.

The sight made his chest tighten, a creeping realization clawing at the edges of his mind.

His fingers trembled as he picked up the note. Unfolding it carefully, he read the words in her familiar handwriting:

"To my Lando, the best thing that ever happened to me. Thank you for being my partner, my love, my everything. Happy anniversary, baby. Love, Y/N."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. His heart sank as the full weight of the evening’s significance crashed over him.

Anniversary. He’d forgotten their second anniversary.

Lando stood there, the note still clutched in his hand, his throat tightening as shame washed over him.

He thought back to the past few weeks, to the times he’d brushed you off or come home late without so much as an explanation.

He couldn’t even recall the last time you two spent real, quality time together.

You had tried to talk to him about it, about how you felt neglected, and he had dismissed your concerns every single time.

Now, standing there amidst the evidence of your effort and love, he felt like the worst boyfriend in the world.

Lando exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair as regret threatened to overwhelm him.

He couldn’t blame anyone but himself.

He glanced around the room, noticing how quiet it was. He knew you were asleep.

His eyes landed on his phone, dead from the night’s events.

With a heavy sigh, he plugged it into the charger, pacing nervously as he waited for it to turn back on.

When it finally lit up, the screen was flooded with notifications, missed calls and unread messages from Y/N.

The time stamps told the story of your evening:

“Hey, are you on your way?” - 8 p.m. “I’m waiting for you… everything’s ready.” -8:30 p.m. “Lando, please call me.” -9 p.m. “Are you okay? I’m starting to worry.” -10 p.m.

The last message was hours old, her tone shifting from hopeful to concerned.

Each notification felt like another jab to his heart, the guilt almost unbearable.

He dropped his phone onto the counter and made his way toward their shared bedroom.

Pushing the door open quietly, he stepped into the dimly lit room.

His gaze immediately found her curled up under the covers, her face half-buried in the pillow.

His breath hitched when he noticed the faint streaks on her cheeks, traces of tears she hadn’t been able to hide.

The sight made his heart clench painfully. She’d cried herself to sleep, and it was his fault.

Lando approached the bed slowly, kneeling beside her as he took in her tear-streaked face.

She looked so peaceful yet so vulnerable, her chest rising and falling softly with each breath.

Guilt swirled in his chest as he reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, thick with regret.

Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, lingering for a moment as if hoping it could somehow convey all the apologies he couldn’t say while she was awake.

His thumb grazed her cheek, and he sighed deeply.

“You didn’t deserve this,” he murmured, his voice breaking.

“I’ve been such an ass… the worst boyfriend. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I love you so much.”

She stirred slightly at his touch but didn’t wake.

Lando watched her for a moment longer before standing, his mind racing with plans to fix what he’d broken.

Tomorrow, he vowed, would be all about her.

The next morning, I woke up with a dull ache in my chest, my body heavy from the night before.

My eyes were sore and puffy from crying myself to sleep.

I glanced at the empty side of the bed, already prepared for the familiar sting of disappointment.

Figured he’d leave again before I woke up, I thought bitterly.

Dragging myself out of bed, I moved to the bathroom to freshen up.

The cold water on my face didn’t do much to wash away the exhaustion or the emotional weight from the previous night.

With a sigh, I tied my hair back and made my way downstairs, expecting another day of hurt to unfold.

Halfway down the stairs, though, something unusual stopped me in my tracks.

The smell of coffee, rich and inviting, wafted through the air.

There was another scent too, pancakes? My brow furrowed in confusion.

"That can’t be right. Lando doesn’t cook... does he? Who am i kidding he can't even boil eggs."

I cautiously descended the rest of the stairs, each step filling me with equal parts curiosity and hesitation.

As I rounded the corner into the kitchen, I froze at the sight before me.

There he was, standing by the stove, flipping a pancake with a focused but slightly clumsy determination.

Plates of food lined the table, croissants, fresh fruit, juice, and what looked like store-bought pastries.

It didn’t take long to figure out most of the spread wasn’t homemade, but the effort was unmistakably his.

“Morning, love,” Lando greeted me, his tone soft and tentative, his lips curling into a nervous smile.

I raised an eyebrow, my arms crossing instinctively. “What’s all this?”

He put the spatula down and stepped closer, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel.

“It’s breakfast... and an apology,” he said, his voice earnest.

My eyes flickered between him and the spread on the table.

I could see he was trying, but the hurt from last night still lingered like a heavy cloud over my chest.

“Come sit,” he said gently, pulling a chair out for me.

I hesitated for a moment before sitting down, my arms still crossed defensively.

Lando grabbed a plate, placing a pancake in front of me before adding a small pile of fruit and a croissant on the side.

I eyed him suspiciously as he poured me a cup of coffee, then sat across from me.

“What are you doing, Lando?” I asked, my voice tinged with a mix of confusion and frustration.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he met my gaze.

“I messed up, Y/N. Big time. And I need you to know how sorry I am.” His voice was steady but filled with regret.

I stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

“Last night,” he began, his brows furrowing,

“I forgot our anniversary. I forgot the one day I should’ve been making you feel like the most important person in the world. And it’s not just last night, I’ve been neglecting you for weeks. You told me how you felt, and I brushed it off like an idiot.”

His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, and I could see the weight of his guilt etched into every line on his face.

“I’ve been selfish, caught up in my own world, and I didn’t see how much I was hurting you. You deserve so much better than that, Y/N. Better than me.”

I felt my throat tighten as his words sank in. The sincerity in his tone chipped away at the walls I’d put up.

“I was so hurt, Lando,” I said, my voice trembling.

“I waited for you all night. I planned everything because I thought… I thought you’d come home and we’d celebrate together. I stayed up, hoping you’d walk through that door with a smile, ready to tell me how much you love me. But you didn’t.”

Tears pricked my eyes as I continued.

“I saw that video of you and your friends. You were laughing and having fun while I sat here, alone, on what was supposed to be our night.”

Lando’s face fell, his hands gripping the edge of the table as if grounding himself from the weight of my words.

“I know,” he whispered.

“And I hate myself for it. Seeing what you did for me last night, the decorations, the food, the note. I realized just how much I’ve been taking you for granted. I never want you to feel that way again, Y/N. You’re the most important thing in my life. I need you to believe that.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, sliding it across the table to me.

“What’s this?” I asked, my voice softer now, though my heart still carried the sting of last night.

“Open it,” he urged.

I carefully lifted the lid, revealing a delicate necklace with a sparkling pendant.

The intricate design caught the morning light, making it shimmer.

“Lando…” I trailed off, overwhelmed.

“It’s not enough to make up for what I’ve done,” he said quickly,

“but it’s a start. And today, it’s all about you. Whatever you want to do, wherever you want to go, we’ll do it.”

I stared at the necklace for a moment before meeting his eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

“But,” I added, my tone firm, “this doesn’t mean I’ve fully forgiven you yet.”

“I know,” he said, nodding.

“And I don’t expect you to. But I’ll spend every day proving to you how much I care, how much I love you. I won’t stop until you believe me again.”

The determination in his voice made my chest tighten.

I wanted to hold onto my anger, to make him feel the depth of my hurt, but seeing him now, vulnerable, regretful, and desperate to make things right.

I couldn’t help but feel the smallest crack in my resolve.

As the morning unfolded, Lando’s sincerity shone through.

He insisted on clearing the table and cleaning up, stealing small glances at me as if trying to gauge my mood.

I wasn’t ready to let go of all the hurt just yet, but for the first time in weeks, I felt a glimmer of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, we could find our way back to each other.

The morning's heartfelt apology set the tone for what became one of the most memorable days Lando and I had spent together in weeks.

While I was still guarded, I couldn’t deny that he was trying, really trying, to make things right.

As I got ready to leave the house, he was already by my side, holding my hand, his other arm slung casually around my shoulder.

“I promised today would be all about you,” he said, giving me that signature soft smile.

“So, where to first?”

We started with a trip to the mall. At first, I felt a little awkward, hesitant to fully enjoy the experience.

But Lando was like a lovesick puppy, following me from store to store, holding my bags, and insisting I buy anything that caught my eye.

“Do you like this dress?” I asked, holding up a flowy sundress against myself.

“I love it,” he said without hesitation. “But I’d probably love anything on you.”

I rolled my eyes at his smooth comment but couldn’t help the blush creeping up my cheeks. “You’re just saying that.”

“Nope,” he replied, grabbing the dress and adding it to the pile of things he’d insisted on buying.

From clothes to accessories, he didn’t say no to anything.

When I protested, saying he was spending too much, he brushed it off.

“I’d spend everything on you, Y/N,” he said with such sincerity it made my heart ache.

Afterward, he took me to my favorite café for lunch.

The cozy little place was one we often went to in the early days of our relationship, and the nostalgia hit me hard as we sat down.

“I missed this,” I admitted as I sipped my coffee.

“Me too,” Lando said, reaching across the table to hold my hand.

“And I’m going to make sure we never lose this again.”

Next, he surprised me with a visit to a local pottery studio.

I couldn’t help but laugh when Lando struggled to shape a vase, the clay slipping through his fingers.

“Okay, you’re supposed to keep your hands steady,” I teased, leaning over to guide him.

“Oh, so now you’re an expert?” he joked, though his grin softened as I showed him how to shape the clay.

It was messy, chaotic, and perfect.

By the end, we both had clay smudged on our faces, and we were laughing like we hadn’t in weeks.

From there, we stopped at a flower shop.

Lando picked out the biggest bouquet of my favorite flowers, holding it out to me with a boyish grin.

“For you,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re really pulling out all the stops today, aren’t you?” I teased, though my heart swelled as I buried my nose in the fragrant blooms.

“Only the best for my girl,” he replied, his tone playful but his eyes serious.

For the rest of the day, he didn’t leave my side.

He held my hand as we walked through the streets, his arm draped protectively around me whenever we stopped to rest.

He peppered me with kisses at every opportunity; on my cheek, my forehead, my temple.

“You’re being extra clingy today,” I said with a small laugh as he pulled me into another hug.

“Making up for lost time,” he murmured, his chin resting on the top of my head.

Bit by bit, the walls I’d built around my heart began to crumble.

His efforts felt genuine, and I found myself smiling more easily, the hurt from the night before slowly fading into the background.

By the time we got home, the sun was setting, painting the sky in soft shades of pink and orange.

We were both tired but happy as we curled up on the couch together.

Lando tucked me under his arm, his fingers gently tracing patterns on my shoulder.

“Y/N,” he said after a long moment of silence.

His tone was serious, and I looked up at him curiously.

“Yeah?”

“I need to say this again because you deserve to hear it,” he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

“I’m so sorry for everything, for neglecting you, for forgetting our anniversary, for making you feel like you weren’t my priority. You are my priority, Y/N. You’re the best thing in my life, and I hate that I made you feel otherwise.”

His words hit me straight in the chest, and I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

“I know I hurt you,” he continued, his hand cupping my cheek as he looked into my eyes.

“But I swear, I’ll spend every day proving how much I love you. I’ll never let you feel like that again.”

My heart felt full as I reached up to hold his hand.

“You’ve done a lot for me today, Lando,” I said softly.

“And it’s helped. I can see how much you mean it.”

“So... does that mean you forgive me?” he asked, his tone hopeful but cautious.

I smiled, leaning up to kiss him. “Yeah, I forgive you.”

The relief on his face was almost comical, and he immediately began peppering my face with kisses, my cheeks, my forehead, my nose, even the corners of my lips.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he murmured between kisses, his joy infectious.

Just when I thought the day was over, Lando suddenly sat up.

“Wait, I have one last thing,” he said, standing and disappearing into the other room.

I frowned, confused, as he returned with a small envelope in hand.

“What is this?” I asked as he handed it to me.

“Open it,” he urged, a playful but nervous glint in his eyes.

I carefully tore open the envelope, and my breath caught as I pulled out two plane tickets.

My eyes widened as I read the destination: Maldives.

“Lando… are you serious?” I asked, my voice trembling with disbelief.

He grinned. “You’ve always said you wanted to go. So, I booked us a two-week stay. Just you and me. No distractions.”

Tears welled in my eyes as I looked at him, overwhelmed.

“You didn’t have to do this…”

“Yes, I did,” he said firmly, pulling me into his arms.

“I’ll do anything to make you happy, Y/N. Anything.”

I hugged him tightly, burying my face in his chest.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“I love you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“I love you too,” I replied, my voice muffled but sincere.

We settled back into the couch, cuddled up together, the weight of the past few weeks finally lifting.

After a long silence, I broke it with a playful smile.

“If you ever neglect me like that again, I’m breaking up with your ass,” I teased.

Lando laughed, his arms tightening around me. “Fair enough. But don’t worry, I won’t. Not ever again.”

And for the first time in weeks, I believed him.

The end

[mywritersmind]

DONT CRY OVER SPILT COFFEE - LN4

summary : A horrible morning made worse by a man in a matcha colored hat, spilling coffee down her shirt and maybe ending up being the hero she needs for her final.

listen up : no warnings!! okay hiii i fell off the face of the planet for a sec lol! i’m fine and thank you for all your sweet messages! honestly i was just burnt out and have nooo ideas plus school and sports are kicking my ass. i love you all so much and hope you enjoy this!

words : 1940

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I try to steady my breathing as I bite back tears. It’s a small thing, really… I ordered a latte and they gave me a steaming hot black coffee.

I would have been fine, simply asking to return it if not for the horribly rude barista and my morning out of hell. So I give up and drag myself out of the little shop, opening the heavy door and promptly colliding into the man across from me.

I swear, loudly, this is the absolute cherry on top of the start of my day. I honestly expect him to run off and roll his eyes, but with tears in mine and hot coffee on my shirt, he rushes to apologize.

“I’m so fucking sorry- shit! I’m an idiot… Let me buy you another one, and a top. Honestly I’m so sorry.” The British man is rambling as I wipe my tears, something his green eyes widen at, horrified that he made me cry. As I blink away the tears, I'm immediately threatened with more because he’s hot!

“No… It’s okay.” I sniff, cursing the universe for making me act like a fool in front of a man this attractive. “I wasn’t even going to drink it.” People are staring at us now and the workers have already started to clean the mess beneath my feet.

“C’mere.” He says softly, taking my hand and leading me to a more secluded part of the cafe, “I’m really sorry.” He’s pulling off his flannel now, a plain white t-shirt now visible as he hands the red and white button up to me, “Please change, I feel horrible. I’ll get you another drink, maybe one you actually enjoy?”

I don’t know why, but if it was any other day, I would have brushed this off and left with no words. But today, I really need this. I nod, telling him my actual order, and retreating to the bathroom as he gets in line.

The shirt does not fit me. I’m wearing a denim skirt with it and it looks like I'm wearing a dress, but honestly I like the look. I grab my shirt and leave the bathroom, my skirt splattered with coffee and the smell still on me.

I sit outside, not wanting to be stared at by everyone who saw me inside. He’s back quickly, two coffees in hand and a guilty smile on his face.

Now that my eyes aren’t blurred with tears, I get a better look at him. He’s tan and freckled, curls sticking out from under his hat.

I read his name on the cup, “Bob?” I say, a bit more judgy than I meant. My latte is cool against my hands, my skin hot from coffee and embarrassment.

He sits across from me, laughing a bit, “No uh… I’m Lando.” I wonder if they got his name wrong and I'm about to ask how someone makes that big of a mistake, but he starts talking, “Are you alright? Something tells me this isn’t just about a spilled drink.”

I sip my coffee, instantly happier with the taste of vanilla, “Honestly? It’s just been a shit morning.”

He smiles softly as a biker drives past us, the sun beating down on my legs, “Want to tell me about it?”

“I really don’t want to bother you anymore…” I try to distract myself with the flowers next to us but my eyes find him again.

“I deserve it- not that you’re a bother! I wasn’t looking where I was going.” He blushes slightly, sipping his matcha.

“I really shouldn’t…”

“You can-”

“Okay so I’m a university student and for my final project in one of my journalism classes, I have to interview someone! Okay fine whatever it’s easy, I can do that! My professor is a massive bitch and didn’t even like my suggestion of interviewing my third grade teacher but whatever! I decided on it anyway even though everyone in my fucking class has like a million and one connections to insanely famous people so all of theirs is actually interesting!”

“Yours sounds interesting.” He shrugs.

“Thank you! Well, when I went to the school to interview her, I found out she’s dead!” His jaw drops, “Yeah! So now I'm just depressed because I loved that woman and I still don’t have a final. Plus just about everything went wrong while getting ready. I tore my favorite tights and lost my lucky bracelet, clearly, because I ran into you after this stupid shop got my order wrong!”

He’s smiling, looking at me with pity and a little humor, “That does sound like a lot.”

I bring my cup to my lips once more, breathless from my rant. Lando just hums, tapping his finger on the table, “Anyway I can help?”

“Unless you know anyone famous… and you’ve already bought me the correct coffee and listened to my rant, I can’t ask for more.”

“Well uh…” He bites his lip suspiciously, “I sort of do… know someone famous, that is.” My eyes go wide and my cheeks go red.

“No! I can’t bother anyone else, forget what I said.”

He’s smiling again, “Nope, you asked for it. I have a solution.”

“No… Lando I can’t.” He’s far too nice for someone I just met.

“It’s for your final! I don’t mind.”

“Sure you might not mind but the person I'm interviewing might!” At this, he makes a face. Somewhere between laughter and awkwardness. Then I have an overwhelming sick feeling as he starts again.

“You can interview me.” What the fuck have I done? He slides me his phone but my eyes are already squeezed shut. I hear him chuckle, “Y/n.”

“No no no.”

“Yes.” he nudges it against my arm as I slowly eye it. It's his instagram. His instagram with 9.4 Million followers.

I swallow, “I’m an idiot.”

“No. You’re just not into racing.” He’s right! I’m not. I’m really not! The photos quickly tell me that he is a formula one driver for McLaren. “Just ask me whatever you need. It’s not a bother.”

“Lando…” I feel like I've been dunked into cold water, and suddenly I realize that people are looking at us not because of my embarrassing mess, but because he’s famous!

“I’m not leaving until you ask.” He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms as if he’s on strike.

“You’re sure this isn’t overstepping- I mean I just met you and I barely even know what you do!”

“So then ask me.” He’s infuriatingly hot, his brow raised.

I hesitantly take my notebook out of my bag, uncapping my pen, and starting a new page.

My hand is shaking for some reason but the questions just flow out of me! He answers every one with a humble sort of confidence that makes me laugh.

In the span of thirty minutes, I learn everything about formula one and Lando Norris. Most of it is for my own curiosity but what I write down is all about Lando.

He’s quite charming and I wonder if he’s this open to every interviewer. “So you won something big…?”

He laughs, nodding, “Yeah. The Constructors Championship. It’s for the team, not really a specific driver.”

I hum, “But there is one for a driver…? And you don’t have it?” I ask bluntly.

He smiles slowly, “No… I was in the fight mathematically but we started too late. Trust me though, next year's mine.” He winks and it’s the first time he acts cocky and honestly sure of himself.

“Well… those are all my questions.”

“Oh. Well, This has been my favorite interview yet. I hope I was almost as inspiring as your third grade teacher…”

I laugh, sitting back in the wiry chair, “I think I might just pass this class and get my teacher to like me.”

“That won’t be because of me though. You’re a good journalist, I can tell.” His eyes are soft when he speaks to me, leaning forward and drawing my eyes to his arms.

Fuck how did I not realize he’s got that whole rich athlete vibe.

I take one last drink of my coffee, the ice sounding and my frown apparently, “Thanks again… I hope I didn’t ruin your day or anything.”

“If anything, you made it better. I’m not exactly the press’ favorite but I'd like to be yours, just so when you start interviewing more F1 drivers, you’ll see how amazing I am.” He scrunches his nose as I laugh.

“Right… Well, I should really get going.” Something flashes across his face as I go to stand, “Oh shit, your shirt!”

“Keep it. You look better in it than I do.” I narrow my eyes at his flirtatious words.

“Do you flirt with all your interviewers?”

“Only the cute ones who I meet with coffee down her shirt.” His smile is insane, I have a feeling I shouldn’t entertain this, that he’s just another big dick athlete who can get any woman he wants.

But then he tugs at his necklace, something he explained to me was his logo, and I wonder what the harm is in having one thing in my day go right.

As if he can hear my thoughts, he sits up straighter, “Let me take you out.”

I did not expect him to ask that! My cheeks go pink as I shake my head. Something tells me that Lando Norris doesn’t take the word ‘No’ very well.

“You can give me my shirt back then.” He grabs my pen from my hand scribbling his number upside down onto my page of notes. “Please?” His handwriting is just legible enough for me to make out the numbers.

“Did you just say please?” I let out a laugh, glancing down at the black ink.

“I’ve heard there’s some magic in it.” He smirks, “I’m not above begging you. Come on, what’s the harm in apologizing over a nice dinner?”

“You already apologized over coffee.”

“You really don’t want to go out with me?” He looks at me as if I've just stepped on his puppy. I try to talk, then shut my mouth and look away.

“I’m in university.”

“I never finished school.” I raise a brow at his words. “What? I thought we were just exchanging our schooling records.” He’s smirking again, “Come on Y/n…”

“You’re famous.”

“You will be one day.” I truly can’t believe this is happening to me, “You’re gorgeous, Y/n. And you have every right to turn me down. Just say no.”

He’s got me there and we both know it, “I’ll text you my final, maybe if I get full marks then i’ll say yes.”

He stands with me, “I'm very confident you will.”

“Good luck driving… or whatever.”

He laughs, “I’m really glad I spilled coffee all over you.”

I roll my eyes and start walking away, “Goodbye Lando.”

He calls after me, “See you soon, Y/n!”

[fettuccin-e]

Man in the Mirror

Kinktober Day 19: Voyeurism

Tags: Marc Spector x Reader x Steven Grant, afab!fem!reader, consensual voyeurism, unprotected piv (pls wrap it in real life omg), dirty talk, slight degradation, Steven watches Marc fuck you through a mirror idk what to tell you (w/c: 1K)

A/N: Back with the boys because I love them and I cannot help myself okay!!! And this is consensual, even though Steven doesn't exactly know it at the beginning, he just thinks he's being a perv. But in my fics, everyone is a perv alright! (this month I have been using these prompts from flightlessangelwings!)

Steven knows it’s wrong, God, it’s fucking wrong, but it’s like he can’t stop himself.

There’s something about the way Marc fucks you, the way you scrabble at the bedsheets when the shoves you into a lewd arch, his hand pressing into your back. The way you moan for it, heaving breaths into your lungs. It’s the way Marc talks to you through it, talking to you like you’re the filthy one, like you’re the one who’s desperate for it, even though Steven knows it’s both of you.

“God damn, baby,” Marc snarls, fucking into you hard enough that tears are starting to leak down your cheeks. “You’re fucking sucking me in, sweetheart. Feels good, huh? Getting fucked like you need?”

“Yes, fuck, yes,” you gasp through the moans he forces out of your mouth with every thrust. “It’s so fucking good, Marc, you’re so fucking deep.”

Steven should stop, right now. Go hide in the headspace, go to sleep and let you both have some privacy. Fuck, he's as naked as Marc is right now, he should feel exposed, have some god damn decency. But it’s like he’s stuck in place, staring in through the mirror as Marc rips you apart in ways he’s never dreamed to. It’s fucking addicting to watch the way your eyes roll back, the way your ass smacks back against Marc every time he shoves himself in, in, in. He reaches down to his bare cock and squeezes, unable to help it.

You’d only put this mirror up a week ago, and he hadn't even thought about the positioning of it. It’s placed on the wall right across from the foot of your bed, and fuck, he can see everything. He hadn’t noticed, hadn’t thought about this view when he had helped you set it straight, Marc coming into view in the reflection and smirking at Steven like he knew something he didn’t. Steven had brushed it off.

He shouldn’t have fucking brushed it off.

Because he’s sure, almost fucking positive, that Marc had somehow known. He’d known that Steven would watch, just like this, how Marc takes care of their girl. How he destroys you in ways that Steven can’t even think up on his own. It’s a special kind of torture, seeing you like this and not feeling it, not feeling you.

Marc’s thrusts are brutal, violent like the man himself. He treats you with so much care normally, Steven has seen it, but this isn’t gentle in the least. And you love it, crying out and drooling onto your sheets as Marc rips you to pieces, pulling you back onto his cock with thick fingers digging hard into your hips. He’s not sure how long he’s been watching intently, unable to tear his gaze away, when he sees Marc’s head snap up.

Looking right fucking at him.

Steven should go, disappear from the consciousness entirely, but it’s like he’s glued to the spot, his gaze locked with Marc’s. Marc’s thrusts don’t stutter, don’t stop, and you’re blissfully unaware as Marc watches Steven watch you.

Until Marc grins like the bastard he is, and leans down to mutter, just loud enough for Steven to hear, “Guess who’s here, gorgeous?”

“Wh-what?” you gasp through Marc’s unrelenting thrusts.

“He’s watching, baby,” Marc smiles, glancing up at Steven. “Just like you wanted.”

You wanted- you wanted? Steven’s breath catches in his throat, he’s pretty sure his heart stops fucking beating. 

“Steven,” you moan like it’s been punched out of you. “Steven’s here.”

“He’s watchin’ in that mirror you put up, sweetheart,” Marc says, “Watching me fuck you.” Steven is flushed beet-red, he knows it, but still, he watches. “Look at him, baby,” Marc growls, “Fucking look at him.”

Marc reaches up and curls a fist into your hair, tugging your head up to look straight into the mirror, straight at Steven. And God, you’re beautiful, tears falling down your face, your lips plump from the way you’ve been biting at them. You can’t see him, Steven knows that, but you look anyway, like you really can.

“She wanted this,” Marc snarls, and you clench your eyes shut, like you want to hide from Steven’s gaze. “She put that mirror up, hoping you’d watch like this. Wanted me to watch you both too, Steven.” You whine, and Marc’s thrusts seem to get even harder. “Our baby’s a little slut, just wants someone to watch her get fucked, isn’t that right, honey?”

“Your-” you gasp, staring into the mirror, like you’re talking to Steven, too. “Your slut, fuck, just yours.”

Marc fucking growls, his hips driving his cock into you. Steven can hear the way your pussy squishes around him, so wet you’re dripping down onto the sheets beneath you. Your body is covered in sweat, glinting in the light, practically glowing.

“Gonna let him fuck you after this, baby?” Marc grits, “Fucking whore for this cock, can’t get enough.” You slur a stream of yesyesyesyes as Marc reaches beneath you to start rubbing furiously at your clit, and you tremble beneath him.

“C’mon, gorgeous, cum for me.” Marc glances up at Steven. “Cum for both of us.”

Your eyes go wide, your mouth gaping open around a silent scream as you gush down Marc’s cock, body shaking as Marc fucks you through it, letting out a strangled groan of his own. Steven is hard as a fucking rock, straining against his stomach, begging for your touch. He watches as Marc thrusts deep and stills, his eyelids fluttering as he pumps you full of his cum.

You slump into the sheets, and Marc slides out of you, leaning down to kiss down your spine, muttering little praises of “such a good girl,” and “took it so well, looked so pretty,” into your skin. You roll onto your back, tugging Marc down to press a gentle kiss to his lips. Marc smiles against your mouth, and Steven feels that familiar pull to the front.

He shuts his eyes, and when he blinks them open again, you’re smiling up at him, reaching up to brush a reverent hand across his jaw.

“Enjoyed the show?” you whisper, and Steven can’t help the way he grins, the way his heart flutters.

“More than you know, darling,” he mutters, and leans to lick into your mouth. “Got to give Marc a show now, yeah?”

[ipushhimback]

we were drunk, it happens - pt. 4

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4

pairing: lando norris x verstappen!reader warnings: pregnancy words: 1.4k

summary: lando tells yn he loves her after finding out she is pregnant

She wanted to cry. Y/N didn’t want to tell Lando about it. Not yet. She was only around 6 weeks along. Why did he have to find out now? Why didn’t Max close the door? Why wasn’t she more careful? What was she even doing here?

“Just leave, Lando!”, Y/N shouted and wanted to take it back as soon as she saw Lando wince. She pulled knees to her chest and buried her face in the fabric of her dress.

It was such a huge mistake to come to this Grand Prix. Everything went wrong in her life. She hated it.

Max stepped forward to hug his sister.

“It is alright, little one. Everything is going to be ok. Believe me. Just breathe. See, Lando isn’t yelling at you. He isn’t mad. Right, Lando?”, he said glaring at the younger man.

“No! No. Y/N. Why did you think I would be mad? You’re pregnant, right? That should make you happy. It is a baby. A little you. So don’t be scared, please.” Oh, he was so scared. He wanted to scream and wanted to throw himself out of the non-existent window. A baby? A little human? How would he take care of them?

“But. You are so busy and always travelling and we are so young. I am 22! You are not much older! How would we do that”, Y/N sobbed and was embarrassed for being this emotional. Damn hormones.

“Hey. It will all work. It is ok. We are going to be ok. We will have a baby. That’s great!”

Y/N used the back of her hand to wipe away the tears on her face.

“You really aren’t mad?”, she asked, still not really believing Lando.

“No. I really am not. I am happy. I didn’t exactly plan for any of this to happen, but it is nice. Maybe you could come over next week and we could just… talk about it? Maybe it’ll make you feel better? Were you already at the doctors to get the baby checked?”

Y/N shook her head.

“Not, yet. But I have an appointment next week. Then I will find out if the baby’s ok.”

Lando nodded and smiled so Y/N finally allowed herself to calm down. He really wasn’t mad at her for being pregnant. He looked happy.

***

“Max! You don’t understand! I got Verstappen’s sister pregnant!” Lando stared at his friend, Max Fewtrell, in front of him. “This is terrible. We were finally getting along again after he… you know… realized we did it… and now his sister is pregnant because of me!”

“I get it Lando. But you can’t do anything. It is how it is. Didn’t you say you were happy about it? You told her you were. Did you lie?” Max hissed. “Bro you cannot lie to a pregnant woman. Furthermore, you told me you like her so where is the problem?”

“Yes, but we said no feelings! So, I cannot tell her that I have liked her this whole time! But she also shouldn’t be handling the pregnancy alone! Max!”, Lando whined. “I don’t know what to do.” The brunette flopped on the couch.

He forced himself to take a deep breath. He definitely had done something wrong in his life. Why didn’t he use a condom? Why…

“Stop beating yourself up, Lando”, Max said. “This is something great. You will have a baby! And you love kids. But maybe you shouldn’t ask yourself if you want to have a baby. If you want to have Y/N as your girlfriend. You should ask yourself if you want to be a dad and a boyfriend.”

“Oh, shut up. Why are you always saying some smart shit.”

“I don’t just say smart shit, I am smart. As the older one of us I have to help you and give you advice for life.”

“You are literally 3 and a half months older… that’s nothing… Max, I really fucked up this time.” Lando buries his face in his hands and sighed. “I want to be a dad. Really. But not yet? I am not ready for this. I am practically a kid myself! I cannot take care of a literal baby.”

“Well, either that or you tell Y/N you don’t want to have a baby and risk her hating you. Your choice, Lando. But don’t decide now. Wait until you know the baby is healthy. Talk to her about your concerns. Think about it. Promise me that, Lando.” Max looked at his friend.

“I will, I promise.”

***

Only an hour later Lando was standing in front of Y/N’s door. He really wanted to wait until next week but just couldn’t. He had to talk to her.

He knocked and only a couple seconds later the door opened, and Y/N was standing in front of him.

“Lando? What are you doing here? It is literally midnight!”

“I am sorry. But I had to talk to you because I talked to Max. Not you brother Max the other Max. My Max. And I want to be there for the baby. And I have feelings for you and I was so scared of telling you because I know we said no feelings involved but they are involved and I wanna be there for you and the baby when it is born and I know I shouldn’t be here at midnight telling you all that because I am probably just sleep deprived or so but. I love you, Y/N.” As soon as he finished talking, Lando took a deep breath and held it, waiting for Y/N to say something.

“That… was a lot”, Y/N finally said. “But I like you too, Lando. From the first time I saw you with those ridiculously good-looking curls and those blue eyes. I would love if you were involved in mine and the baby’s life.”

Lando just stared at Y/N and couldn’t really believe it yet.

“You… you like me too?”, he asked. He would have though Y/N would call him crazy and that she would say she didn’t like him at all, but he definitely didn’t expect this here to happen.

“I do. And you are an idiot if you haven’t noticed it yet.” Y/N said and smiled a little.

“Oh.”

“So… I have the doctor’s appointment tomorrow. Do you want to come with me? Just making sure the baby is ok. I could use someone to talk to in the waiting room.”

Lando nodded. In that moment he was sure he was the happiest person on earth.

“Do you… no forget it”, Y/N started.

“Do I what? Tell me! You can’t start a sentence like that and then keep me hanging. Tell me!”

Y/N took a deep breath.

“Doyouwannastayherewithme.” Lando stared at her as if she was crazy. What the fuck did she just say? That was too fast for his brain at midnight.

“Huh?”

“Do you want to stay here? With me?”

Lando grinned and nodded.

“Yes! Of course. If it is really ok with you.?”

***

The next morning, Y/N woke up with Lando’s arm around her waist. It was warm and she couldn’t help but notice how different it was to wake up next to him, knowing they didn’t fuck last night.

“Morning”, she mumbled sleepily. “We have to get up to go to the appointment.”

The man next to her just groaned.

“Too early.”

“No, sleepyhead. It is already 11 am. Get up.”

Eventually Lando got up and went to the bathroom and only an hour later they were at the doctor’s office.

The doctor was very nice, and Y/N could swear that the nurse recognized Lando but didn’t say anything.

“So, let’s take a look at the baby”, the doctor said as she poured some gel for the ultrasound on Y/N’s abdomen. She placed the probe on it and looked at the monitor.

Then she moved the monitor so Y/N and Lando could both look at it. She pointed on a few grey, black and white areas to explain some stuff.

“And here we see Baby A”, she pointed to another grey blotch. “And there we have Baby B. Both perfectly healthy.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped.

“Twins…?”

The doctor nodded.

“Yes, you two will have twins. Congratulations!”

A/N: yes i did just post that on the wrong acc… but here we go sorry it took so long to write this! if you wanna be added or removed from the taglist pls tell me bc i don’t know who only wanted to be tagged for this series and who for all the other stuff i will write as well so you will be tagged for everything i will write (sorry i am too chaotic for this world)

taglist:

@strawberryy-kiwii / @a-distantdreamer / @requiemforthepoets / @martygraciesversion381 / @I-vroom4 / @comicalivy / @sid-is-gr8 / @picklesbuddy93 / @sadiemack9 / @f1fantasys / @cloud-55 / @sunny44 / @widow-cevans / @gigicisneros / @mbioooo0000 / @sinfully-yoursss

[gluion]

almost, but not quite — leehan

pairing — leehan x reader genre — friends to lovers, fluff, crack, university au wc — 8.5k misc/warnings — loser!leehan with avoidant tendencies, slight mutual pining, bonedo group dynamics, also architecture student!leehan... heh, a lot of aquatic and ponyo references, a pov switch happens between leehan and myungjae, getting froyo to avoid confessing, alcohol consumption, kissing playlist — heavy by the marías // nervous by the neighbourhood // halley’s comet by billie eilish // patutunguhan by cup of joe // intro (end of the world) by ariana grande // i know you by faye webster // tsunami by niki // ikot by over october // take a chance with me by niki note — please know i have dropped this and pick it up in multiple instances because i'm not built to write fluff. still, i hope you enjoy because i see myself in leehan :]]

synopsis — if there’s one thing leehan didn’t understand, it’s the gross, sticky emotions he feels with you. yet, there’s an undeniable warmth that lingers—and that’s when he knows he’s screwed.

(in other words, the five times leehan found himself at a crossroads and the one time he decided on what he wanted with you.)

if the world were to end, leehan believes it would start with a meteor shower. before they crash against the soil, their trail of flames would catch on tree branches, the fire spreading through forests. their craters would swallow civilizations, and the floor would crack beneath his feet. the world will go up in flames within the blink of an eye; how dinosaurs met their demise would be the same fate he would face.

jaehyun finds it stupid, arguing it would be through an alien invasion. (“there’s too much proof! i mean, have we forgotten about area 51?” is the same point he never fails to make.) it didn’t help that he believed leehan could be an alien in disguise, regardless of how many times leehan showed him his birth certificate.

but how the world ends for leehan happens without him even knowing, waking up in the middle of his fall into the never-ending void. the harsh light morphs into amber tones with every descent as heat prickles his nape. leehan imagines the sting of lava hitting against his skin, burning him alive to a slow death, but it’s his descent into the ocean.

how leehan’s world ends is not from a meteor shower or an alien invasion, but with his plummet past the ocean floor all the way to the core.

yet, the center of his earth doesn’t happen to be molten lava.

it’s you.

“who’s jaehyun talking to?” sungho frowns in confusion before shoving a spoonful of rice into his mouth.

leehan looks up from his phone and attempts to find his friend among the students who fill up the cafeteria. as he cranes his head past unacquainted faces, he spots the familiar boy talking to a stranger. “no clue.” before he can go back to doom-scrolling, jaehyun bursts into laughter.

it shouldn’t be a big deal; the sight of his best friend doubling over is an everyday occurrence for him, but not anyone can achieve it unless they knew the spectrum of jaehyun’s humor.

jaehyun catches leehan’s puzzled look and shoots him a smile. his hand lingers on the mystery person’s shoulder. before leehan can look back at his phone, you turn around.

leehan freezes.

if there’s a view that could beat the great barrier reef, it would be you. (even if leehan has never seen it. he just knows.)

“oh, they’re coming our way,” sungho points out.

like a human meeting a siren, leehan couldn’t rip his eyes off of you. your graceful strides resemble the movement of sea creatures. a coral forms on your nose with every laugh. yet, it’s a sea of jellyfish in your eyes that could make him crumble.

before he knows it, you stand in front of him with your eyes on jaehyun. if his friend was saying something, he never catches on—except for your name. “this is y/n.”

he repeats your name to himself; a song to be sung.

“hi! it’s nice to meet you.” your smile is made of the sun and sea. the expanse of blue glimmers as it crashes against him—out of enchantment and back into reality.

“how do you know jaehyun?” sungho asks.

you glance at your friend. “we’re in the broadcast club together. you know, he’s basically made to host.” from your compliment, jaehyun rolls his eyes and nudges your shoulder.

leehan rips his gaze from you, his hand finding a spot by the back of his ear as he fiddles with the last strands of his composure. he’s out of his mind. what’s he even thinking about you? for all he knows, you could be dating jaehyun.

oh god, are you dating his friend? what if you two have been going out for years and he never knew—wait, it shouldn’t even matter.

leehan doesn’t know anything about you so he feels indifferent towards you, right? right?

sungho tilts his head in curiosity. “oh! what do you do?”

in the process of glancing at you, leehan briefly locks eyes with his best friend. jaehyun’s eyes glance dart between you and leehan as a smirk makes its way to his face.

whatever his friend is thinking of, leehan only assumes the worst. is jaehyun going to misunderstand the situation? how does leehan explain to him that he’s just nervous around you? would his friend take it against him for looking at you?

leehan thinks it’s over for him.  

“tech. you know the people who manage the mixing board?” as you imitate yourself moving the sliders, leehan lets out a giggle without a second thought. once you smile at him, leehan feels the heat rise to his cheeks. he looks back down to his phone, hoping you can’t notice the pink tint all over his face.

“that’s cool! even cooler than what jaehyun does.”

sungho’s joke only brings jaehyun to smack his arm. “hey!” he frowns before glancing at you. “he’s kinda right.”

“not even kinda, he is right,” leehan remarks as he ignores the sea in his stomach.

jaehyun groans as his two friends fist bump each other. before they can ruin his reputation any more, he looks at you and says, “i’ll see you after class?”

you nod. “bye! it was nice meeting you.” you glimpse at his friends before locking eyes with leehan.

your eyes are seas that leehan wishes he could swim in. he would hold his breath just to stay in them, undergo the sting of his lungs just to admire them.

but it’s your smile that snaps him out of your possession. when he realizes he’s staring at you, his elbow slips off the table.

“are you okay?” sungho’s question is accompanied with a frown of confusion. while concern paints your features, the same, all-knowing smirk rests on jaehyun’s face.

leehan clears his throat as he fixes his posture. “yeah, i’m good.” he can’t bear to meet your gaze, not after his slip-up and certainly not after jaehyun’s reaction.

“okay, well i’m going. nice meeting you both!” with your farewell, you leave the group of three. 

once jaehyun finds his spot next to leehan, the worst possible scenarios flood leehan’s mind. the last thing he wants to do is ruin his friendship with him.

yet, he’s dumbfounded when jaehyun chuckles. “dude, if you’re going to have a crush, at least make it discreet.”

leehan’s eyes grow wide over jaehyun’s accusation. “i do not like y/n.” he snickers. “what are talking about?”

his friend clearly misread his actions. how could he even like you when he barely knew you? over one interaction, too? jaehyun needs to have more faith in him.

the disbelief in jaehyun’s features tell leehan otherwise. “are you seriously going to play that card? sungho, back me up.” he looks at the boy across from him who’s too busy eating away to even help him out. “didn’t you notice his eyes? they were practically hearts!”

he shrugs as he finishes his food. “beats me. leehan’s always been an oddball.”

“no, but he’s not like his usual silly self!”

leehan grumbles, nudging his shoulder against his troublesome friend. “quit it. stop making this weird.”

“whatever.” jaehyun rolls his eyes before jabbing his finger against leehan’s chest. “just know that i know your little secret.”

leehan grows annoyed at jaehyun’s accusations. he’s already said he doesn’t like you that way. how could jaehyun even think that? leehan swats away jaehyun’s hand before getting off his seat. “i’m leaving.”

“what? why?!” his friend clings onto his arm. the pout on his lips attempts to hold him back from his departure. “did i tease you too much?”

leehan shakes his head as he shrugs off jaehyun’s grip. “no, i’ve got a plate to cram.” he slings his backpack and drawing tube on his shoulders. “i’ll see you guys later?”

sungho only musters a hum before shoving another spoonful of rice into his mouth. as leehan takes his leave, jaehyun rests his chin on his crossed arms. despite the sigh that leaves the dejected boy, sungho pays no attention to him. “you’re not even going to ask why i’m sad?”

“just let him be. i’m sure he doesn’t like them.”

jaehyun groans in response.

if there’s one thing he’s certain about, it’s leehan’s crush on you. sure, his friends don’t see it, but one thing he knows for sure is leehan’s interest in you—he’ll do anything to make sure it comes into fruition.

and if there’s one thing leehan hates to admit to, it’s jaehyun being right in his suspicions, so he’ll keep going—deny, deny, deny, whatever he’s feeling because it doesn’t mean anything.

it shouldn’t.

but to leehan’s dismay, his mind would always drift back to you.

leehan swears he hasn’t thought about you. unfortunately for him, he never crossed paths with you since that one fateful encounter.

it shouldn’t be unfortunate. after all, he knows nothing about you.

(except for your name. and your course. and that you’re in the broadcasting club with his best friend. and that you’re a big fan of ghibli movies. and that every spotify playlist is perfectly curated to fit every mood, from the “slow mornings” to the “rageful evenings” as you’d like to put it on their descriptions.)

absolutely nothing, really.

as he found himself in the middle of midterms, the idea of you started to slip away in between papers and unfinished plates. 

leehan likes the library during exams season; place filled with students who are struggling like him. as night has dawned upon them, bulbs of yellow light up at every table. he’s always been able to work better at the library. after all, it doesn’t help that jaehyun is lounging in their dorm, enjoying his freedom from academic obligations.

still, leehan cannot deny his exhaustion as he attempts to finish one of his many essays. it works in his favor that his hoodie does its job in concealing his fatigue from others, allowing him to isolate and make sense of the words on his screen.

perhaps it’s for the best for you two. if he found himself entangled with you, maybe he wouldn’t get any work done. he already begged his professors for an extension, and he’s starting to think that might be the last time they’d understand. the last thing he wants on his mind is you—

“leehan?”

the source of his sleepless nights stands right before him. it seems like you’re unscathed from what this season brings but your laptop and bag filled to the brim with readings suggest otherwise.

still, it’s the same jellyfish-like glow in your eyes. 

“o-oh, hi!” at his voice crack, his eyebrows shoot up. “sorry, hi again.”

“no, it’s fine! i understand.” you smile in a poor attempt to suppress your laugh. “i just… wasn’t expecting to see you here. wait—you do remember me, right?”

he’s surprised that thought comes across your mind. “of course i do, y/n. how could i ever forget jaehyun’s cool friend?”

you roll your eyes at his flattery, trying to ignore his comment, but the smile on your face says otherwise. “at least. it would’ve been embarrassing to approach you and find out you don’t remember me, which i understand but i think i would’ve ran away.”

your shy demeanor causes waves to crash against his heart, the sound of your voice enchants him, and—snap out of it!

he shakes his head in an attempt to regain his composure. “what brings you here?”

“i’m here to work as well, but i’ve been walking around trying to find a table and i can’t find a vacant spot.” as your eyes flicker to the empty chair across him, he’s quick to move away his scattered things, some pens falling off the table.

“you can sit with me!”

“are you sure? i’d understand if you need your own space, really.”

leehan can try all he wants to shake off the thought of you, insist that he doesn’t have a crush on you (because he really doesn’t), but he isn’t going to have you leave this library in defeat. you two are in the same boat, trying to meet deadlines while running on a few hours of sleep and caffeine. he isn’t going to leave you stranded.

“yeah, i’d be happy to have someone join me. i can’t be the only one going crazy here,” he reassures you. you take that as your sign to sit with him.

(and this isn’t his attempt to spend time with you. really, it isn’t.)

he tries to continue where he left off on his work. if he continues to put off this essay, he wouldn’t only lose another hour of sleep but risk receiving a failing mark.

yet, his eyes are drawn to you. regardless of all the risks, of all the threats that loom in the deep ocean, he can only look at you.

which is why it comes to his surprise when you meet his gaze. 

leehan is quick to break eye contact and act like he’s working. heat rises to his cheeks. in the sea of typing, your giggle reaches his ear.

now, he isn’t sure how red he’s become.

“i didn’t know you like ponyo.”

a hum of confusion leaves him. as you stare at the stickers plastered over his laptop, your finger darts at a jellyfish one. “that’s from ponyo.”

his face flushes. “oh! yeah.” the last word trails into a whisper.

“is that your favorite ghibli movie?”

leehan melts into his seat. not from the nerves but pure embarrassment—because he has no clue what ponyo is. from what he’s gathered, it’s a ghibli movie, has jellyfish in it, and… that’s all he got. after all, he bought that sticker at a convention a few months back.

(it’s starting to make sense to leehan why the artist showed him a collection of anime characters back then, and it didn’t help that he asked to see more fish stickers instead.)

he should be honest with you; if he doesn’t know what the movie is about, then maybe you’d indulge him with everything you like.

yet, another lie is said. “yeah!” it leaves leehan in shock, in embarrassment, in a situation he could’ve avoided. he should’ve tried to save himself from the unfolding mess, but the beam in your eyes outshine all sea creatures he’s studied up on. “what about you?”

your smile grows bigger. “i love that movie! you know, there’s supposed to be a symphonic concert happening in a couple of months.” leehan only musters out a hum, trying to cover up his anxiety with interest. as you learn on the table, you ask, “who do you think you are between ponyo and sosuke?”

leehan’s absolutely fucked, but he knows how to keep his act up; avoid answering and throw the question back. “who do you think i’m more like?”

you take a moment to think. as your fingers tap against the table, a small hum leaves you. “based on vibes, i think you’d be ponyo.” leehan can only nod.

once silence settles between you two, leehan thinks he’s in the clear. he’s ready to put this interaction behind him, even kick himself for lying to you—

“now, what about me?”

“uh,” he mumbles as he discreetly searches up the movie.

with your wide-eyed gaze, the pressure to answer is multiplied by ten-fold. leehan thinks this is even worse than answering an exam worth 40% of his final grade. he wish he could be swallowed up; it pains him to keep the act going.

by some miracle, you read his thoughts. “you don’t know anything about ponyo, do you?”

he sighs in relief. “oh, thank god, i couldn’t keep this up any longer. i only got that jellyfish sticker because i like fish, and no one told me it’s a reference to a movie until you pointed it out.” the frown painted across your face makes him feel like he’s been stung by a jellyfish. “i’m sorry. i should’ve just told you that i had no clue what you were talking about, but i panicked and i didn’t want to ruin the conversation with my ignorance and—”

you burst into laughter, causing neighboring tables to glare at you. as you throw an apologetic smile to those you disturbed, you try to hold yourself back from laughing any more. leehan wishes you didn’t stop then; those few seconds turned into a song stuck in his head.

“i’ve never met anyone who’s into sea creatures.”

leehan’s breath hitches. is he weird for liking fish? would you be freaked out by his tank filled with corydoras? is it over for you and him—

“but i think that’s cool.” your words snap him from his thoughts. “do you have some as pets?”

the question brings him to grin. “corydoras and snakeheads.”

“you wanna tell me more about them?”

leehan thinks you might be it—the one, as riwoo likes to rave on about when imagining his unfolding future—for him.

but he’s gone through weeks filled with stress and the exhaustion gets in the way of his work; it’s probably the same case for his feelings towards you. before he can spiral into a never-ending hole filled with delusions, he shakes off the idea. “maybe another time.”

“you’re right. sorry about that. we both came here to work and i’m clearly distracting you.”

his eyes grow wide, scared to send you the wrong message. “no! you’re okay. i like talking to you.” as your expression shifts from apologetic to shock, he quickly adds, “about my fish! yeah, about them.”

while a nervous chuckle leaves him, you smile. “i like talking to you, too.”

leehan’s skin heats up.

“about ponyo, even if you didn’t know what i was talking about,” you tease. “maybe we can watch it together when we’ve got time. i don’t know what it’s like as an architecture student, but i can spare a few hours.”

leehan’s senses elevate—not from your suggestion but over the mention of his course. “how do you know my course?”

he didn’t want to get ahead of himself, really, but he can’t control his mind from jumping into conclusions. did you search him up right after the first meeting? were you curious about him?

were you interested in him the same way he is with you?

“myungjae mentioned it.”

his hope dissipates. “oh, that makes sense.” disappointment is evident in his tone.

still, your smile remains. “myungjae talks about you quite a lot.”

leehan’s groans as his mind jumps to the embarrassing stories that his friend could possibly say. “i would hope it’d be good things.” after all, jaehyun knows too much about leehan, and he didn’t want him to influence your perceptions surrounding him for the worst. 

a quiet moment stretches between you and him. 

“yeah, all good things.”

it’s a silent agreement for the two of you to get back to work; crunch out sentences filled with grammar mistakes and words derived from google searches of synonyms.

still, leehan’s eyes drift back to you every once in a while.

if there’s one thing jaehyun is set on proving, it’s leehan’s crush on you.

it’s been weeks since he first saw his friend freeze at the sight of you. the first time leehan’s eyes held a certain glow that resembled the jellyfish sticker on his laptop.

on the other hand, sungho’s grown tired of jaehyun’s supposed baseless accusations; all jaehyun needs to do is show the signs to prove it all.

he stands in sungchan’s kitchen, swishing around a mix of alcohol and mixers in his cup. the bartop is filled with bottles of liquor and drinks, a variety for him to choose. while everyone is off to enjoy the party, he stands with riwoo and sungho. as sungho shares about the gossip he’s heard, his fingers playing with the hem of his crop top, riwoo’s pink antennas bounce with every laugh. while they’re caught up in their own conversation, jaehyun’s gaze shifts between leehan, who stood by the corner of the living room with taesan, and the front door that swings open every five minutes.

“dude,” riwoo’s voice snaps jaehyun back into their conversation, “what’s gotten into you?”

sungho frowns at jaehyun who only takes a sip from his drink. jaehyun’s odd but never to a point that he’d stop himself from enjoying a party.

“are you waiting for someone?”

from riwoo’s question, sungho manages to connect the dots, and a frown settles on his face. “are you kidding me? even at this party? is that the only reason you begged us to come?”

jaehyun believes that he’s a mastermind. it was easy to convince his friends to show up to sungchan’s halloween party; the mention of alcohol and familiar names seemed did the trick. after all, they all saw the opportunity to de-stress from finals and end the semester on a high note.

the icing on top of his plan was your agreement to show up.

“is this about leehan’s supposed crush?”

sungho’s hip rests against the counter as he looks over at his friend from a distance. “we don’t even know if he likes them, but jaehyun’s so insistent on saying he does which, by the way, isn’t cool. don’t make it weird between them.”

in all other instances, jaehyun would agree with his best friend, but he shakes his head before saying, “just watch and see. by tonight, i will change your minds.”

“if only y/n shows up,” riwoo snickers. 

regardless of his friends’ comments, jaehyun stands tall. “trust me. i know they will.”

sungho rolls his eyes at his friend’s confidence. “what makes you say that?”

“jaehyun!”

the familiar voice rings in jaehyun’s ears. “speak of the devil.” with a smile on his face, he looks over to see you approaching his group of three, all dressed in a mustard-yellow shirt, grey shorts, and a green pail bucket hanging on your arm.

“sorry! i was finishing up my last requirement a few hours ago.”

jaehyun slings his arm around your shoulders. “i’m just glad you made it.”

“yeah, mainly because you begged me to do so.”

“he did the same to us,” sungho snickers.

jaehyun rolls his eyes. “we all know that’s not true. you just won’t admit that you wanted to party, too.”

“i’ll have you know that sungchan invited me before you did,” you remark before you grab yourself a clean cup. with jaehyun’s arm still wrapped around you, you drag him along in staring at the selection of drinks on the counter. “what’re you drinking?”

“oh, the perfect mix!” you don’t think twice about jaehyun’s words until you watch him grab on different bottles of liqueurs and mixers. “like juice, i tell you.”

“that’s dangerous.” a nervous chuckle leaves you before he shakes his head. 

“you’ll be fine, tipsy after one drink at most.” you roll your eyes at your friend being the cause for your impending doom. “by the way, this is sungho, as you’ve met before, and riwoo.” jaehyun’s introduction has you turning around to greet the two.

“you’re dressed as saiki k! i love that anime.” riwoo chuckles at your exclaim. as you look at sungho, you spot the neck of an electric guitar peeking from behind him. “you play?”

he snaps out of his trance and hums in confirmation. “sorry, i was trying to figure out what you’re dressed up as and i still have no clue.”

“oh!” you reach out into your bucket before pulling out a small keychain of a gingered-folk dressed in red. “i’m sosuke, from ponyo.”

riwoo’s hands come together. “i see that now!”

once jaehyun hands you your drink, you take in his costume; a purple sweater that drowns his figure with rock n’ roll girl plastered at the front. “who the fuck are you?” you sip on jaehyun’s concoction. the sweetness of the drink masks the taste of alcohol. it’s a mistake to drink this, not because this will lead you to an incurable hangover but because of jaehyun’s answer.

“i’m darla from finding nemo.”

you choke on your drink. jaehyun’s quick to rub his hand against your back. in the middle of your coughing fit, laughter slips in between. “what the fuck?! i wouldn’t have guessed that.”

jaehyun clicks his tongue before holding your arm. “which is why i have a partner to complete my outfit! come.”

before you know it, he drags you through the crowd of people. whenever your bucket crashes against someone, you’d quickly apologize before jaehyun hauls you five steps forward. you don’t understand the rush, but jaehyun’s smirk makes you believe otherwise.

jaehyun believes he’s a mastermind; he isn’t going to miss the perfect opportunity to push his plan forward.

“leehan!” his friend, dressed in a fish outfit with yellow and white stripes, rips his gaze away from taesan and settles on the two of you. his relaxed smile morphs into a thin line as his droopy eyes turn wide. it’s moments like these that make jaehyun question how his other friends fail to see the signs.

taesan’s eyes follow. “jaehyun! you came at the perfect time. i just needed a refill of your mix.” the moment he spots you, he straightens his back. “i don’t think we’ve met before. i’m taesan.”

“y/n.” the makeshift cat ears formed by his hair bring a smile to your face. “didn’t know i’d meet a catboy today.”

“yeah, well—”

“taesan, come with me.” jaehyun grabs his arm.

taesan and leehan frown at him. “huh? can’t you just make it and bring it here?” as taesan swings his empty cup, jaehyun rolls his eyes before dragging him to his side.

with your confused expression, he forces a smile. “no. i need to introduce you to someone, anyway,” he lies behind his teeth. while you accept his words at face value, leehan’s eyes grow wide at his friends’ escape.

before his lovesick friend can protest, jaehyun and taesan take their leave.

“what the fuck was that?” taesan shouts the question as they make their way back to the kitchen.

jaehyun shakes his head until they reach riwoo and sungho. “that’s the person i was telling you about! the one leehan likes.”

taesan glances at the two before bursting into laughter. “nah, i think they’re just friends.”

“i’ve been saying that for the past weeks,” sungho complains before he sips his drink. “every time jaehyun teases leehan, it almost looks like he’s going to kill himself.”

riwoo hums as he observes his friend. “what even makes you so sure that he likes them?”

“oh, i’ll show you.” jaehyun pulls out his phone before going through his contacts.

as sungho peers over, he frowns at the contact name. “what’s he going to know?”

“hey, can you at least make my drink—”

the call is picked up by their friend, whose eyes are shut and hair ridden into a mess. “hello?” he groans.

“woonhak, do you think leehan likes y/n?”

a pause ensues.

“who?”

sungho smacks jaehyun’s arm, causing him to hiss at the contact. “why’re you bothering the kid? can’t you see he was sleeping?!”

“at 10:34 p.m.? the night’s still young!” taesan jokes as he sings out the last sentence. “anyway, about my drink—”

“this is about the person i was telling you about! the one in the broadcast club.” despite jaehyun’s attempt to jog his friend’s memory, he’s met with a confused and sleepy groan. “the one who likes ponyo.”

for some reason, that piece of information clicks in his drowsy friend’s brain. “oh, yeah! what about them?”

sungho shakes his head. “this is pointless. he’s clearly too sleepy to have this conversation. bye—”

“no! woonhak, you are going to help me prove that i am right about leehan and y/n.”

riwoo laughs in disbelief. jaehyun’s persistence is not new, but it’s the first time they’ve seen it involving their friend. “and how are you going to do that?”

“like this.” jaehyun flips the camera, showing woonhak the view of leehan. woonhak’s face moves closer to the camera in an attempt to focus on his friend, who rocks back and forth in place as he talks to you.

like clockwork, leehan leans forward. “see! don’t you think they’re so close to each other?” jaehyun points at the view.

sungho chuckles before resting his hand on his shoulder. “it’s a party. i’m sure they can’t hear each other that well, especially since they’re near the speakers.”

“he’s right. i mean, they are close, sure, but it doesn’t really mean anything.” although woonhak shares the same sentiments as sungho, jaehyun doesn’t admit defeat. he’s secured in his suspicions; the last thing he’ll allow is for him to be swayed until he shows them all signs affirming it.

“okay, but look at his thumbs.” his friends dart towards leehan’s hands that are wrapped around his cup. “he’s twiddling them! don’t you think he’d fidget around someone he likes?”

riwoo sighs. “i’m sure he’s just nervous because he doesn’t know y/n that well.”

yet, jaehyun shakes his head at riwoo’s assumption. “but that’s the type of anxiety you expect from someone with a crush.”

“that is true.” taesan’s comment brings all eyes on him. i’m kind of just agreeing at this point so that jaehyun can make my drink.” everyone groans and scolds the alcoholic.

“okay, but he could still be warming up to them. i mean, they’ve only known each other for a few weeks now,” woonhak adds on. it’s clear that calling him isn’t helping jaehyun’s case. woonhak’s two more comments away before the call is dropped on him.

at this point, jaehyun’s desperate. he couldn’t have his plan fall through or he would never live this down. if anything, he might end up getting scolded by sungho. (“this is what you get for being so hard-headed!” jaehyun can imagine sungho’s harsh tone that would be accompanied with flared nostrils.)

yet, it’s like the universe heard jaehyun’s plea. leehan does the unimaginable—a gummy grin takes over his features.

“holy shit,” taesan whispers.

riwoo looks back at his friends. “there’s no way, right?”

leehan’s never the type to grin easily, always sticking to tight-lipped ones and smirks. such smiles are different from whenever he'd laugh; a beam in the middle of a conversation comes like bioluminescent waves.

“wait, the quality is so bad. i can’t see why you guys are shocked,” woonhak complains from the other end of the line.

“it’s just that leehan is smiling, like really smiling,” sungho briefs the confused fellow. his head tilts as he continues to watch you two interact. “i mean, y/n could’ve told a joke. like, that possibility is still there.”

jaehyun’s patience runs thin the more sungho remains dismissive. “why don’t you want to admit that i’m right? is it that hard to just say, hey, jaehyun, you might be right about leehan crushing on y/n. sorry about that! like, is it that hard?”

despite jaehyun’s frustration, sungho sighs. “it’s not that, really. i just don’t want to assume anything about his feelings.”

jaehyun’s frown falters. when sungho puts it that way, he recalls all the times he might’ve made leehan uncomfortable, going lengths to ignore what his friend says; he must’ve been a terrible friend to leehan. and for once, jaehyun admits defeat. “yeah. you know what, you’re right. i shouldn’t assume whatever he feels.”

“what makes you so certain about those two, anyway?” woonhak asks.

jaehyun looks over at you two, backs against the wall and shoulders pressed to each other. from leehan’s grin to the crinkle by your eyes, jaehyun smiles to himself. “because i’ve never seen them that happy unless they’re together.”

because to him, you two are a match made by the seven seas—handcrafted by the gods that rule the oceans with the intention of having you to stick together like corals and fish. while his friends can’t see that, he hopes with enough high and low tides that they’d start to see the same vision as him.

yet, the waters hear his final plea; one final sign that might affirm jaehyun’s suspicions.

as you walk away from leehan, making your way to the washroom, his eyes never leave you. his grin resembles the softness of sponges he’d ramble about, and the jellyfish-like glow in his eyes didn’t leave. 

“oh my god, leehan likes y/n,” sungho gives in to jaehyun’s conviction.

“wait, what? how’d we get here? what happened?”

jaehyun doesn’t think twice about dropping the call. (only to pick up and earn an earful of complaints about leaving woonhak in the dark, especially after waking him up.)

leehan thinks he’s dreaming. 

he’ll wake up in a classroom to his professor’s lecture on parametric design or urban revitalization. before he’ll know it, he’ll watch the clock tick away until the bell rings. if not to a lecture, leehan might wake up to jaehyun’s knocks, only to groan and doze off once again.

he should be dreaming, really, because in no universe would he be seated on the couch of the living room and watching ponyo with you—except for this one. 

leehan can’t find the words to explain how he got here. since his last class was canceled for the day, he was going to rush home and take a long needed nap. yet, the waves managed to bring you to him at the right time.

the thing about leehan is that could never say no to you. whether it be for a small favor or rearranging all his plans for the day, he thinks it’s only right to accept anything you throw at his way. you’re his friend, after all, which is why he didn’t think twice about having you over for the long-awaited ponyo watch party.

now, he finds himself seated on a sofa with you, speakers blasting your favorite film. the space is littered with all forms of knickknacks, sea-like or music related. it’s filled with leehan’s and jaehyun’s personalities, showing an apartment filled with love. when leehan’s free time lined up with jaehyun’s, they’d make it a habit to lounge and watch all sorts of films.

while he’s never had issues getting invested in what he watches, it’s only now that he faces that issue.

he swears from the bottom of the ocean that he wanted to focus on the movie, but it all seems impossible with you. the smell of your laundry detergent. your skin against his arm. the quiet, steady breathing of yours that syncs with his.

“leehan.” as you tilt your head in curiosity, he holds his breath. “are you watching?”

and the thing about you is that you always saw right through him. over the course of a few weeks, past the seafoam and algae, you always read him.

he clears his throat before scooting away from you. “of course.” as he stares right at the television screen, a chuckle leaves you.

silence hangs between you two. 

leehan glances at you. you’re eyes are already on him.

“gotcha.” heat rises to his cheeks. 

you sink into the couch with a pout. “if you didn’t wanna watch, i would understand.”

“no, it’s not that at all!” as your eyes snap to him, he sighs. “i really want to watch this with you. my mind’s just over the place.”

you face him, concern painting your features. “what’s going on then? why don’t you tell me what’s up?”

what you don’t know is that you’re his distraction. even at this moment, leehan can’t form an answer to your question. he can never think straight with you; the jellyfish you spoke of in your favorite movie could never compare to the ones in your eyes.

he takes one glance at your lips before breathing out. “nothing.” as he shifts his attention back to the movie, he tries to shut down the conversation. “it’s fine.”

leehan expects for the subject to drop, go back to watching your favorite movie in silence, until your hand rests on his thigh.

“leehan.”

when he looks at you, the distance between you two is enough for the seafloor to crack. the waves in his stomach roar. his breathing halts, almost scared that one exhale will cause you to crumble like a coral reef. when you lean towards him, hot water rushes out of the splits.

yet, you stay still.

the waves won’t carry him to you; all he needs to do is pull his feet from the wet sand to close the distance.

“hey, do you want to get some—oh!”

you pull away from him. as you attempt to resume watching the movie, leehan looks back at the intruder. there stands a shocked jaehyun whose eyes dart between you two.

“uh, i should probably go.” you get off your seat. “i still have some papers to work on, you know.”

leehan shakes his head in reassurance before standing. “of course. i can go with you back to campus—”

“no need!” you interject before shooting an awkward smile. “it was nice seeing you two!”

without any second to spare, you exit out of leehan and jaehyun’s shared apartment.

“were you guys about to…”

leehan’s eyebrows shoot up. “no! that would never happen,” he says as he shuts the television.

a moment ticks by.

before leehan knows it, jaehyun drops to his knees. “no!” his head finds its spot behind his hands. “why did i walk in? i should’ve just kept my damn mouth shut!”

leehan rolls his eyes before walking to his distressed friend. his distraught state should bring concern but it’s an everyday behavior that leehan expects. “nothing was going to happen.”

yet, jaehyun continues to wail. 

leehan grabs hold of jaehyun’s arm and helps him stand up. “c’mon, what did you want to get?”

jaehyun groans before fixing his posture. “i literally saw you two about to ki—”

“we weren’t!” leehan bites the inside of his cheek as he thinks back to today’s events. “nothing is going on between us.”

and there shouldn’t be anything because you two are just friends.  

despite his defense, jaehyun frowns. “well, something is definitely going on!” he crosses his arms. “i saw it with my own eyes, so you better start saying something if you like them.”

but leehan shouldn’t like you. to him, you’re still jaehyun’s friend before anything—even before his friend—and he should respect that.

his silence speaks volumes, bring jaehyun to sigh. “i mean it when i say there’s nothing wrong with liking y/n. why are you scared?”

leehan has always admired his friend’s sensibility. jaehyun welcomes emotions, allowing himself to run on its highs and lows, walking around with his heart on his sleeve. admittedly, it’s something leehan wishes he could say the same about himself. 

all his life, he’s learned to run away from vulnerability. he believes that emotions are inherently disgusting, almost sticky, and should be avoided at all cost. after all, what comes after vulnerability is a moment of inevitable embarrassment.

yet, it’s from jaehyun’s confrontation that leehan realizes he can’t run away from the waves anymore. soon enough, he’ll have to run to the ocean, allow himself to be consumed by the water, and let himself bathe in whatever he feels towards you.

but it’ll take steps for him to get to the sea. “let’s go get some froyo.”

so for now, he’ll continue to run until he grows tired.

leehan remembers the last time he felt this nervous; stomach churning and heartbeat racing with every second. it was for his final defense for his research study. he spent days locked up in his room, piles of clothes found left and right with a corner stacked with empty coffee cups. jaehyun likes to describe it as the great pacific garbage patch that leehan rants about.

who could blame him? with the panel of nitpicky professors, he only had his index cards filled with chicken scratch and his trusty fish keychain to rely on.

when he came out of the defense victorious, the keychain became a lucky charm. for difficult assessments. for life-changing decisions.

for you. 

it shouldn’t be a big deal to leehan, but he holds on to the charm as he waits for you to pick up his call.

ever since he opened up to jaehyun about his confusing feelings, the situation is impossible to avoid. jaehyun claims that the tides leehan rides on are from his crush on you. although leehan still denies it, his friend takes it upon himself to push him across the shore—so long as he’s closer to sea.

“hello?”

“y/n!” his voice cracks, a cough following to cover it up. “hi.”

“oh! how’d you get my number?”

he drums his fingers against his desk. “i, uh, got it from jaehyun.”

“oh, okay. what’s up?”

leehan takes a moment to breathe as he grabs hold of the tickets. maybe he shouldn’t ask you. it would be better for taesan and sungho to go to this event like they originally planned. yet, he would only receive an earful of complaints should he back out now.

“leehan?”

“sorry, i just…” he shuts his eyes. “are you free this weekend?”

“yeah.”

his friends have pushed him across the shore. now, the water is close to his feet. all he needs to do is ask. 

“do you, i don’t know, wanna watch the ponyo symphonic concert with me?”

a beat passes.

leehan’s heart races.

a moment of embarrassment.

he should’ve known better. how could he allow himself to be talked into doing this? he should run farm away from the sea— 

“you got tickets?! how?” your squeal breaks him from his trance. 

leehan chuckles, breathing unsteady, and says, “it’s a secret.”

“keeping secrets from me now? thought we were friends.” somehow, your playful nature and curiosity never fails to lighten up the mood—even if you never fail to make him nervous.

leehan could never think properly with you; he loses all common sense or composure, catching him off guard with every impulsive decision. “which is why i’m asking you out.” his eyebrows shoot up at the implications of that phrase.

“asking me out?” you giggle on the other end of the line. “like a date?”

“sorry, i mean—”

“i’m just messing with you,” you cut him off from his tangent. as he sighs in relief, you say, “but i’d love to go with you. send me the details.”

he smiles to himself. “i’ll see you, then.”

“okay, bye.”

once the call drops, leehan flops down onto his seat. as he stares up at the ceiling, he plays the phone call back in his head, and his cheeks start to hurt.

for once, vulnerability awarded him with something.

the sea has grazed his feet.

leehan thinks he sticks out like a sore thumb in the theater. considering that he’s never been here before, he’s grown conscious of his attendance to the symphonic concert. in these moments, he would’ve run away, ditched the event and locked himself in his room, but he made it through the night—all thanks to you.

in the unfamiliar, he’s able to find comfort through you.

“that was amazing!” there’s a skip to your feet as you exit the theater with leehan. “i think my ears were blessed.”

leehan chuckles at your joy. “i’m happy you think that.” as much as he would like to share the same enjoyment, his happiness stems from you.

people continue to make their way out, knocking shoulders against you two. “you don’t think the same?” you throw the question over the loud chatter.

“i’m sure you appreciated it more than i did.” 

your nose scrunches at his accuracy.

the bustling crowd doesn’t die down, swarming the lobby even further with every second that passes. while you attempt to stand tall within the busy crowd, your faltering smile gives leehan enough reason to protect you.

he loops his arm with yours. “hold tight.” before you know it, he dashes out of the theater with you. 

the breeze of the night hits his cheeks. a sigh of relief leaves you as you find yourselves in the open space. “thanks. i was scared that i was gonna trip,” you mention.

“i could tell.”

you laugh as you nudge your elbow against him. “oh, shut up!”

in these moments, leehan’s feelings towards you were pushed to the back of his mind. in these moments, you two are friends; nothing more, nothing less. 

still, you latch on his arm, like tentacles, like sea anemones, almost like you can’t imagine letting him go.

leehan walks on the edge of the pier; between embracing or ignoring intimacy.

you both get in the backseat of your uber. with how late the concert ended, you and leehan fall into silence as the car drives off to your complex.

streams of fluorescent lights fill the window. the radio plays a soft melody that reminds leehan of the sea. he’ll look at everything, so long as your arm around his remains off his mind.

yet, all it takes is your head on his shoulder for him to freeze up. 

a shaky exhale leaves him. his heartbeat fills his ears. when he looks over at you, he notices your eyes are shut. as a series of quiet snores escape you, leehan thinks back to jaehyun’s words. 

why is he afraid of you?

in all the time you spent with him, you learned everything about him; his quirks, his habits, his unconventional interests. he swore that you would walk out on him, drift away like plywood in the sea, as you got to know him. 

yet, you stayed through it all.

he should know better than to disengage with you the moment his fears come into play. without even thinking, he was villainizing you—every moment that teetered the edge of intimacy had only made him pull back like how seaweed rips through ship ruins.

in his eyes, the worst thing that comes out after intimacy isn’t the embarrassment—it’s the uncertainty that follows. there’s comfortability in familiarity; nothing ever goes wrong if he plays it safe. yet, his mindset may have upheld barriers that restrain your relationship.

leehan only understood that the moment jaehyun pointed it out. in all the time he’s spent with you, he’s never fully given you credit, assuming the worst about you the moment you do anything that encourages vulnerability from him.

and still, you welcome him with open arms.

what if you’re good? what if this is good?

all he needs to do is fall into the sea, plummet through the ocean floor, until he arrives at your embrace.

“we’re here,” the driver says as he pulls into the driveway.

to leehan’s surprise, your eyes open in an instant, catching him red-handed. in a split second, he looks away from you, a cough following afterwards.

when a soft giggle leaves you, he knows he’s only dug himself a deeper hole.

you both exit the car as you walk to the entrance of the builidng. for a moment, you stand beside each other, no word being said, and leehan wishes it could stay that way. he doesn’t want to say goodbye to this night just yet.

yet, you look at him with a smile, and say, “i really had fun tonight. thank you for thinking of me.”

“no, thank you for sharing your favorite movie with me.” leehan looks down to the ground as his foot kicks against the concrete. “i think it’ll be my favorite movie.”

“think you’ll end up loving it more than me?”

he smirks. “no one’s love for ponyo will ever compare to yours.” you laugh at his remark. 

leehan notices how your hands fiddle with each other. he’s never seen you uneasy; you always carry yourself with confidence everywhere you go. yet, it’s in this moment that it hits him—were you just as nervous as him?

in all the times his fears got the best of him, did your doubts do the same to you? were your nights plagued with ideas of him in the same way he fell asleep to the thought of you? did you second guess every action, every instance, like he did?

but most of all, did you want him, too?

“okay,” you breathe out, “i’ll see you soon.”

once you turn your back on him, he’s left to watch your figure walk away.

there’s security in the familiarity. avoiding intimacy saves him from embarrassment and uncertainty. if he were to shift the tides at this moment, who knows what could happen between you two?

the sea grazes his sand-covered feet.

despite the unknown future, is diving into the ocean worth it for you?

before leehan can spiral into his thoughts, he grabs your arm and spins you around. your wide eyes meet his. as he pulls you closer to him, his arm finds their spot around your waist.

the distance between you two allows him to take in your features; your trembling lips, the jellyfish glow in wavering eyes.

at the same time, what could happen between you two?

as his hand reaches for your face, you melt into his touch.

the possibilities are endless; you’re the risk he’s willing to take.

with eyes closed, he dives to meet your lips; soft like how he imagined. it’s a slow kiss, one spent trying to learn you in ways he only thought he could in a distant dream. yet, leehan’s hesitance shows with every second spent exploring you.

when your hands rest on the back of his neck, leehan’s fears dissipate, a small sigh leaving him in between. at his relaxed state, you take the lead. your nose grazes his cheek as your fingers play with his hair. leehan grows dizzy, hand gripping your waist as he tries to keep up with you.

somehow, your lips felt familiar; he’s secured in you.

as you pull away, your erratic breathing matches with his. the sight of your lips that once interlocked with his only makes him want more.

he goes for one more, causing you to giggle, and he smiles in between kisses. your fingers dig against his shoulder as he savors the taste of you. how could he have denied himself of this? if this is what it meant to kiss you, he wouldn’t have second guessed diving into the sea.

you break the kiss, a grin on your lips that can’t match his. “took you long enough.”

leehan’s world doesn’t end in a meteor shower, or an alien invasion, or even through his descent past the ocean floor. past the sand, the dirt, the minerals, the core of his world is not molten lava.

instead, it’s a pair of arms that embrace him. wholly. flaws and all.

and leehan’s world doesn’t end, after all—it’s only begun with you.

networks tag list: @kflixnet @k-labels @onedoornet @kstrucknet

boynextdoor permanent tag list: @bonedors @0310s @whyilovewhales-pdf

story tag list: @bananielle @yunextdoor @heechwe @taesanrot

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[pupkashi]

a/n: i just wanted to write abt yuta being scary and sexy so here is my word vomit

masterlist

thinking abt bf!yuta who looks and acts so pathetic around u but is so protective and intimidating

yuta is so helplessly in love and devoted to you, even a blind man can feel the love he has for you a mile away. yuta is the first to laugh at your jokes, the first to tell you happy birthday and congratulate you on everything. he’ll give you anything you want the minute you ask for it, no matter what it is.

yuta doesn’t get into arguments with you, he’ll apologize for whatever he did wrong and prove to you he’ll never make the same mistake again. he’ll shower you in gifts and acts of service and spend as much quality time with you as you want.

there isn’t a thing he wouldn’t do for you.

yuta okkotsu isn’t the beefiest man on the planet, nor is he the tallest. but he is the most intimidating when he wants to be. and whenever anyone is a little too friendly with you, he definitely wants to be.

it’s only been two minutes since he left to the use restroom and there there some douchebag was, trying to flirt with you. it makes his blood boil, seeing someone who isn’t him be that close to you, trying to buy you a drink as you politely decline him.

it takes only a moment for yuta to walk up to you, snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you close to him.

“who’s this, angel face?” he asks you, his voice is soft and sweet as he speaks to you, but his eyes are sharp and venomous as he stares at the other man.

“he just was talking to me about some sport, he’s nobody yuu” you smile, trying your best to contain the situation while you could.

“yeah i was just leavin, don’t wanna waste my time on something used” the man snorts, turning around before his body is jolted backwards as yuta grabs his wrist.

the man immediately cried out in pain, knees buckling as yuta’s grip only tightened. “how ‘bout you quit crying and apologize,” yuta taunts, jaw clenched as his grip grew stronger.

“baby please i don’t want a scene” you plead, squeezing his arm and forcing him to look at you. yuta always thought your eyes were so alluring. something about them brought him a sense of serenity he never thought was possible.

“okay” he mumbles, letting go of the man’s wrist, rolling his eyes as the man cradled his now broken wrist, crying out about his pain and running the opposite direction.

the two of you don’t stick around, walking out into the hot summer breeze before you stop, hands on your hips as you stare at your lover.

“yuta” your tone is more than enough to stop him dead in his tracks, slowly turning on his heel with a sheepish smile on his face.

if you didn’t know your lover, you never would’ve guessed that the man who’s a stuttering and blushing mess in front of you broke a man’s write for flirting with you.

his shoulders are slouched a bit, strands of black hair framing his face perfectly as he tried his best to defend himself.

“I’m sorry darling” he begins, already giving you the puppy eyes you fall for, “i couldn’t just stand by and let some scumbag try to talk you up without-” you cut him off by grabbing his hand and pulling him to sit with you on a nearby bench.

“pretty boy, you know I’m only yours right?” the words make yutas fave flush a deep red, nodding softly as he looks at the ground. “you don’t have to fight or threaten every person who gets too close to me, i can handle myself” you explain.

“you shouldn’t have to” yuta mumbles, looking at you with a small pout. “i wanna be the one to protect you,” he sighs, “i wanna let the world know that they shouldn’t even think about trying anything with you.”

there’s a beat of silence and yuta is about to apologize again before you’re crashing your lips onto his. it’s a shock to him, but he immediately kisses you back, smiling when you bite his bottom lip softly.

“cmon let’s go home,” you smile, laughing when yuta practically jumps up, back to his sunshine smile as he intertwines his fingers with yours.

“you wanna make some cookies and watch a movie?” he asks, swinging your held hands as you two walks together down the empty street.

“you read my mind, pretty” you grin, leaning into him as the two of you walked, loving how he instinctively put his arm over your shoulder and kissed the top of your head.

there’s not a care in the world for you. you’d never have to look over your shoulder or carry a weapon with you. as long as yuta was by your side the only thing you’d have to worry about is stopping him from killing anyone who hurt you, intentionally or not.

[saerins]

ᯓ ᝰ RIGHT HERE .ᐟ — touya todoroki

touya x female reader. content tags modern au, childhood sweetheart!touya, both are working adults, making out, mentions of infidelity/murder, he’s a tease. word count 1.7k

ᯓ notes .ᐟ haha can you tell i love touya too much rn ? just getting back into writing so have some of my touya :) thanks to any of you who read this <3

“touya, you’re gonna make me late for work tomorrow,” you whine, pouting as he wins you in yet another round of super smash bros. (and hence you’d have to stay up and continue playing at his behest.)

beside you, touya smirks, rows of pearly white visible while he clearly enjoys tormenting you. “weren’t you the one who said you needed a distraction?”

you grumble as you take the couch pillow and hold it over your face, groaning in frustration. touya’s right; you’d called him right after dinner, practically forced him to come after you figured out that you’re actually not as strong you thought and you’re actually still really upset that your ex cheated on you.

it’s only pathetic because it’s already been a couple of months and you’re still wallowing over it somehow.

“you know, i bet all that frustration will go away if you just let me kill that fucker,” touya tells you, flicking your forehead as leans forward, yanking the cushion off your face.

unamused, you deadpan at him. “yeah? then what am i gonna do when you’re in jail, huh?”

touya snickers, “aww, what? can’t handle being without me?”

in a strange way, your honest answer is definitely not. you’ve known touya forever. ever since you were five and your families connected at a preschool event. ever since your friend fuyumi introduced you to her brother. ever since touya confided in you how much he hated his father.

fast forward more than a decade later and you’re both sitting in your apartment, in a different state than either of your families, still as close as you were when you were kids.

you glare at touya, rolling your eyes before scrunching your nose and smirking at him. “actually, go ahead, i’ll go find myself a better guy while you rot in the cell.”

your best friend scoffs, cocking a brow and looking like he’s offended. “i off someone for you and you don’t marry me immediately? the fuck is wrong with you?”

the shit-eating grin that dawns on his face immediately after makes your heart skip a beat. yeah, you’ve always found him attractive, maybe even had a crush on him back in high school, but he’d always had girls after girls, and somewhere along the way you learned to stuff those flimsy emotions back down.

until you remember that he’s been single for a while now, and the fact that you’re both working adults with all the freedom in the world.

fuck, you really shouldn’t go back there.

“haha, funny,” you try to wave it off sarcastically. “says the one who told his ex that he just sees me as a little sister.”

he laughs, leaning back against the couch, a hand behind his head, abs sticking out from the edge of his shirt. it takes you a second to rein yourself in, not wanting to get teased relentlessly by him if you get caught staring.

“hey, she was getting jealous of me spending so much time with you! what was i supposed to say?”

yes, you’re aware. most of them were. most of the time you never told touya about any of that; of how his girlfriends were coming up to you, all insecure about your friendship and asking if you could back off. that was the most common thing among all his relationships: the girls’ pleas for you to keep a distance.

you did… the first few times.

and after his fifth relationship, you realised that touya would always pull you back close. would always end up breaking up with them if your friendship is causing them too much worry.

“you didn’t have to say anything, maybe you should’ve just kept your distance, you know? since most of them seemed to have a problem with it,” you comment, trying to act as nonchalant as possible, though even you don’t believe yourself.

a life without touya is unimaginable for you. even if you can’t really say the same for him.

touya sighs, shifting in his position before ultimately putting an arm around you, pulling you close. he smells like your soap and his hair against your face tickles.

he’s always like this; always touchy, always close. recently he’s been more than usual, coming over and sleeping the night (you never did anything physical!), chasing other guys away at the club because they’re not good enough for you.

and when he’s like that, you think maybe there’s no harm in letting those long-lost feelings flow back.

it’s dangerous.

he’s always like this. always way too much for you to handle. and yet you can’t live without him.

and then he does something he’s never done before.

you feel his lips on your temple, and you hear the chuckle reverberating from his throat. his left arm around you holds you tight, not that you’re running anywhere—you’re pretty sure you’re frozen stiff from the shock.

did that really happen?

“how can i do that when you’re the only one i want?”

you’re sure that’s his voice. it can’t be anyone else’s. but you’re not sure if you believe him. is he really saying what you think he’s saying?

slowly, you turn to face him, expecting him to wear that smug grin and tease you for being so gullible but it never comes. instead, you’re greeted with his half-lidded eyes, blue pupils staring at your lips like he’s hypnotised, his thumb caressing your lower lip from left to right like he’s trying to memorise all the grooves.

it’s so soft that you barely recognise your own voice when it comes, “touya, kiss me.”

and maybe he’s always wanted to, because he doesn’t miss a beat. the second you open your mouth, he’s giving you what you asked for, his tongue prying your lips open and he tastes just like the warm in winter mornings, like the comfort people always dream about.

mint. you can taste the sweet from when he ate it right before he beat you in the game. you can feel the cold on the tip of your nose from when you brush against the piercings on his nostrils. you can feel him carry you onto his lap, feel his hands wrapping around your waist. you can feel his heartbeat under his chest, under your palm, almost as erratic as your own.

were you really just upset over someone else?

every relationship you’d been sad over suddenly didn’t seem to make sense anymore. not when touya’s right here, lips locked with yours and telling you more with his kiss than you’ve ever heard from his words.

by the time you pull away, both of you are breathless, his hand on your cheek, lips softly brushing over your own like he can’t bear to be away even for just a second. you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes, half overwhelmed and half confused.

“fuck, did we really just—”

“shh,” you hush him, putting a finger on his lips, suddenly embarrassed. your foreheads are still pressed together, and you can’t see it but he’s admiring your face, holding himself back from just kissing you even more.

touya moves your finger away. he whispers your name in the most gentle tone you’ve ever heard, “does that mean you feel the same?”

you swallow the lump in your throat, tongue-tied and still straddling your best friend on the couch. you’re just a single impulsive action away from going all the way.

dangerous.

pulling back even further, you’re about to make a break for your bedroom when touya pulls you back, making sure you face him.

“no running this time,” he tells you, voice raspy and his eyes flicking from your eyes to your nose and your lips but mostly your lips. “i want you,” he whispers, and the minute you lock gazes, the answer has never been more clear to you.

“i want you too, touya,” you answer, both excited and afraid but he never lets you harp on things too much because he’s already kissing you silly, barely letting you breathe—you don’t have to guess with him; he wants you so desperately you can feel it in his actions.

“touya, we should stop,” you whine, knowing that this might be going way too quick yet you want it all the same.

touya shakes his head, big hands slipping under your shirt and squeezing your waist. “no, don’t wanna stop,” he whispers into your mouth.

he’s about to pull your shirt over your head when the loud shrill of his phone interrupts. he would’ve tossed it to the side if you hadn’t taken it and insisted he should take it. it’s from shoto, after all. (he doesn’t call often, it’s a complicated relationship.)

grumbling, touya leans back, keeping your thighs in place so you can’t move away. he’s smirking at you as he answers, “shoto, what is it?”

you can’t hear his brother over the phone. you can only guess snippets of the conversation from touya’s end.

“huh.”

“what for?”

“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever.”

when he finally puts it down, he pulls you close by the chin, a glint of mischief in his grin. “get ready, doll.”

“huh? for what?”

touya gives you a peck on the lips. “family���s visiting, a surprise or whatever. they’re already in the city.”

you blink, praying he’s not being serious and wishing it’s not what you’re thinking. “okay, have fun!”

“and where do you think you’re going?” touya laughs, pulling you back down after you barely got back up.

“go spend some time with them, it’ll be fun.”

“oh i’m sure it’ll be fun,” he smirks, typing something into his phone and sending the message before you can sneak a peek.

you’re almost too scared to ask. but you do. “and why’s that?”

touya chuckles, thinking you’re way too stubborn, playing dumb even if it’ll kill you. but he guesses it’s fine if he has to spell it out for you. “because i wanna re-introduce you.”

“wait, what do you mean?”

with a gentle smile and a poke on your forehead, he looks you in the eyes. “i’m gonna introduce them to my future wife.”

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Tenacity

Pairing: Boston Joel Miller x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Joel Miller will never allow himself to take what he wants and you know that. How can a broken shower make him realize it's too late and he's already fallen for you? (Or Joel fucks you on his beat up couch in the QZ.) Warnings: Smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, riding, apocalypse birth control, old furniture doing old furniture things, a grown man dealing with feelings, apologies for the Tess erasure. Words: 2,300

A/N: @ohheypedrito mentioned couch Joel and I couldn't help myself, I am forever in her debt. Thank you to @jennaispunk for beta'ing

Masterlist

____

He knows he shouldn’t have let you in, he should’ve stayed silent and let you think he wasn’t home, but he can never say no to you, a fact you’re well aware of. Your shower has been broken for months, sure you can ask another neighbor, but Joel’s place is your first choice, never bringing a towel, always choosing to wrap yourself in his scent. 

You smirk that devilish look and without a word saunter into his bathroom. He settles on the couch, large body dipping in the underfilled cushions, his back aches after a long day of work. The last thing he needs to deal with is his budding erection pressing against the metal zipper but he just can’t stop thinking about your body dripping wet in that damn dirty shower of his. 

He’s exhausted, his head thuds against the floral wallpaper turning yellow with age and decay, he can only assume this miniscule apartment once belonged to a nice old woman who liked soft pretty things. Joel too likes soft pretty things, the one he likes the most just happens to be you, currently happily humming behind the bathroom door you refuse to fully close. His eyes focus up on the dingy ceiling above praying for a reprieve from the emotions that bloom within him whenever he thinks of you. 

The tap turns off, he steels himself, straightening his sore body. God damnit, he thinks throwing an arm to stretch across the back of the couch. The hand resting against his upper thigh nervously taps against his jeans. Funny that you’re the only thing in this world to make him anxious and yet your presence always leaves him tranquil.  He already knows where this will lead, he must be some sort of masochist, never feeling like he deserves your attention but still accepting anything you’ll gift him. 

The sound of your post shower routine floats across the small room. Curtain opens, curtain shuts, pitter patters of your feet to the towel rack, a woosh of the heavy fibers settling against your body, your contented hum that prickles against the back of Joel’s neck. You’re the only bright spot in this hellhole, a shining ray that blinds his mind and heart whenever he wonders how someone like you can exist in a world like this. 

The dim living room floods with a beam of light from the bathroom, steam billows out of the doorway, your form wrapped only in his towel steps out of the fog, he swears this might be what heaven looks like. There’s enough space for you to change into your clothes in the bathroom, but you never do. 

That smirk shows up again, heaven and hell existing in one crooked grin stretched across your mouth. Joel’s never been a religious man, sure he’s prayed during hopeless times in his life, but tonight, he prays to whatever being that will listen to give him the strength so he may provide you everything he has without falling even harder. 

Temptress… your foot rests atop the coffee table, delicate hands running along your outstretched leg rubbing sweet smelling oil across your skin. Joel knows his body is marred and battered, rough and calloused, he questions why in the hell you’d ever want your silken curves anywhere near him. You switch legs, if only the room was brighter he could turn his head just a bit and look up the towel. 

No need for that, a telepathic wave treads through his brain as he watches you unwrap the towel and toss it aside. Naked and standing only a few feet away from him, he knows it’s not voyeurism when you’re so eagerly inviting him to look but he still feels an inkling of shame. Sweet, sweet girl. Your oil coated palms leave a trail of sheen across the skin he can’t wait to taste. Silently, you saunter over, small bottle of oil in hand, he knows how your skin tingles from the peppermint after applying, he can almost feel it warming his lips. He leans forward, palm instinctively outstretched for you to deposit a few drops of oil into his awaiting hand.  

You turn around and kneel on the floor, his hands start at your shoulders lightly rubbing across your skin, tracing the path of your spine. He’s hesitant to put too much pressure, always afraid to deface the gorgeous individual you are, neglecting the fact that this always leads to you heedlessly asking him for more. The oil smooths his movements, your head bobs back and forth melting into his touch. There’s no type of divinity he’d ever worship in the apocalypse, but he surely finds devotion with you and the symphony of quiet moans that leave your lips. 

“Feels good,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

He takes a deep breath letting his lungs deflate a long exhale, your gratitude unlocking another long buried sense of ease. Manners are lost in this world, you’re such a rarity. 

He doesn’t count himself as a lucky man, but when you turn around and nuzzle your clean face against his soot and dirt covered jeans he just might feel like he’s won the lottery. You plant a kiss against his bulge before pulling yourself up to straddle his lap. Joel’s hands subconsciously station themselves against your back, fingers lightly digging into your damp skin. Suddenly his back no longer ails him. 

“When’s the last time you bathed Joel?” You’re still warm from your shower, you cover him like a velvet blanket. 

“This morning,” he croaks out, overwhelmed by the sensation of you.   

“Mm. Did you think of me while in it? I know you have a habit of doing that.”

He nods, your eyes pooling with desire at the confession. 

His denim shirt feels constrictive, your bare skin is too tantalizing, he fidgets underneath, restless from the sensation of his heavy clothes. 

No need for that, rattles through his lust-addled brain. Your hands begin deftly unbuttoning his shirt. He loves the way your mouth drops and your head shakes incredulously whenever you get the first glimpse of his bronze skin. He loves that he’s been with you enough to know exactly how you’ll react to him. 

His shirt lands atop the towel.

“Perfect aim,” you smile.

Joel chuckles. You’re the only being on this earth that can make him laugh. 

You lean forward, placing your ear against his heart, he takes the longest, deepest breath getting lost in the moment, forgetting how much he likes to think he can fight this feeling. He can smell your yarrow shampoo mixed with the peppermint, this world literally stinks, and yet here you are fragrant and pleasing. 

Your hand brushes back and forth against a patch of chest hair, the other dragging up and down his arm. He loves when you pet him, nothing calms him more. He still can’t come up with an exact reason why he refuses to let himself have you when you’re the only thing he longs for. You’re torturing him right now, he wishes you were clueless about the power you hold over him. 

He places a kiss on your hair, breathing in your scent, he just can’t help himself.

“Wish I had wallpaper this pretty in my apartment,” you muse. 

“No need for the wallpaper, you’re pretty enough,” it escapes his lips before he can stop it. 

“Oh really?” Pulling back and sitting tall atop his lap, your eyebrow arches. “You think I’m prettier than faded old lady wallpaper?”

God damnit, your mouth is too goddamn smart. 

“You know what I mean.” 

“I do. You’re pretty too.” 

He wants to kiss that godforsaken smug smile off your lips. 

No need for that, crowds his mind, much like your lips do now against his. His mouth opens to accept your tongue. He groans against your mouth when you yank his hair, pulling his head back so you can lick into his mouth. He chases your mouth, sucking your lower lip between his plush lips. Your cunt finds the tent in his jeans and begins rocking against it. Your kiss turns sloppier, tongues rolling against each other, hot breaths intermingling. Your lips move down to nibble his chin, licking your way down to his neck. He growls your name when you clamp down and suck the tanned skin into your mouth. 

He needs to feel you against all of his skin. 

He’s never hated his belt more than right now as he clumsily unbuckles it between your writhing hips. 

“Christ,” he barks, quickly unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, you give him a temporary reprieve from your grinding as he raises his hips and yanks his pants down. 

He gathers you into his arms and leans forward, swiping the old books and magazines off the coffee table top laying you across it. 

He kicks out of his jeans, his knees protest as he sinks to his knees in front of you splayed across the oak. 

His eyes roll into the back of his head and flutter shut at the first taste of you. Tangy, sweet, all woman, all his, for as long as he thinks he deserves. 

Sweet, sweet girl.

Your coos and purrs dance through his ears twisting their way into his heart. He licks a stripe up your pussy, swirling his tongue around your clit and flattening against it. Your hands climb all over his hair, grasping and pulling, he loves when you take what you want from him. Forcing him to hand himself over to you, body, mind, soul, heart. Whether that be a shower or his tongue against your pussy.

He could stay here forever, the rest of his body still as a statue, just his mouth allowed to move against your sweet cunt, fucking you with his tongue, massaging your clit with his lips. 

Your hips thrash against his face, legs wrapping around his head, pushing him even farther into your searing pussy. 

He can feel you begin to dissolve into him, your thighs trembling against his ears, the pressure of your legs wrapped around him increasing. He’s encircled by all of your beauty, your slick pours into his mouth as your orgasm explodes into him. He drinks down everything you give him, never able to be greedy outside of his time spent with you writhing and naked under his touch. You unlock your legs, your body still quaking from your climax. 

She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

His cock stands weeping between his legs, he gathers the precum and spreads it across his tip before pumping himself watching your eyes hungrily focus on him. 

You spread your legs farther open with an unspoken invitation for him to take your pussy for his keeping. He accepts it, his wide cock slowly engulfing in your wet heat. 

You gasp and smile at the sensation, he feels his walls crumble.  

God damnit, there’s that damn smile again.

He loves how you take him, drawing your hips against his, the two of you tangled in hedonistic harmony here in this hellhole of a quarantine zone. You’re the only reason he stays. 

He’ll never allow himself to say it, he fights like hell to not feel it, yet another battle he’s going to lose. 

He bends forward, your head pinned between his forearms, he sucks at your lips, you can taste yourself all over his mustache. His cock slides in and out, pace turning more punishing the louder you cry out. Neighbors be damned, you’re the only one he likes, at least they’ll know you’re his. 

His weight presses against you and the rickety coffee table, both shaking as he pummels into your pussy. A crack emits from the leg he’s been meaning to fix, the decrepit coffee table disintegrates underneath all of his power. He’d laugh at his luck if he wasn’t so fucking turned on by you. Joel gathers you in his arms, throwing himself back against the couch, his cock never leaving the heat of your entrance. You sink fully down on him, his cock hitting the gooey spot inside of you that makes you liquefy. 

Sweat drips down his face, he’s so fucking tired already knowing his body will protest everything he’s put it through, but you’re worth it, the strangled noises you’re panting out will soothe his sore muscles come tomorrow. 

He nips at your jaw, licking the sheen of sweat on your skin and tasting the prickling peppermint. His nails rake against your back, you’re so fucking smooth, the harder you ride him, the deeper his nails press into your skin. 

Your body grows tense above him, his lips crush against yours wanting to gulp down all of your screams. You’re shattered by him again, his cock feels like the only thing tethering you down to this earth. He’s close, so fucking close. His orgasm has been waiting for you to pulse around his cock, your softness squeezing his last bit of resolve. 

Joel pulls out, immediately bemoaning the cruelty of not being able to cum inside you. One, two, three, pumps and he’s cumming against your stomach, your head angling down, wide eyes watching as the white ropes drip down your skin. 

Your ear finds his heart again, Joel knows it’s racing and you can hear it. He kisses your hair, humming a satisfied groan. Little does he know this is your favorite part of your shower visits, knowing that for just a short period of time you’ve made him happy. 

“I guess you’re going to need a new table.”

“I’ll be able to fix it, used to be a contractor.”

He surprises himself at the divulgence, reminding him to keep you at arms length, you’re too good for him. 

No need for that.