#LIPS TUGGING INTO A TIRED GRIN

[kawoala]

thsi is probably one of the most beautiful things ive ever read on here and its literally only chapter one

magnolias, | h.iwaizumi

01; harvest moon

[104 / WHEN WE WERE STRANGERS] recommended songs; Harvest Moon / 誰かの世界 / Sibelius Symphony No.6

July and August were the most unbearable. 

Heat would crawl up his back and gnaw into his bones, sweat would drip from tan skin, and this unmistakable plague of exhaustion would overwhelm his head. With enervation, his hands squished dirty clothes into the communal washing machines. He hated Tokyo, the humid weather rattled with his head, making each task feel an unmeasurable amount more laborious. 

A trail of soft taps against the wooden floor caught his attention. Curiously, he glanced behind him. 

Iwaizumi had never seen this girl before, clad in a white tank top and black shorts that just reached her mid-thigh. He recognised the melody of the piece she’s humming before he recognised her. Regardless, he noticed the stark smell of incense and tobacco that lingered outside the open door of his neighbour’s apartment waft around her.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, pushing past him while clutching a laundry basket. 

She looked concentrated, Iwaizumi lets his gaze travel down the curvature of her slender neck, taking a moment to admire the silver jewellery which it adorned. Something about her demeanour pulled him towards her, words died on his tongue.

She methodically dumped wet clothes into the hamper before standing up and shutting the washing machine door with her sock-clothed foot. The cicadas of summer nights conversed between them, and Iwaizumi couldn’t keep his eyes away from her. 

His gaze followed her with intrigue, watching as she travelled up the stairs with her overflowing basket before slamming the laundry machine shut himself. Perhaps an omnipresent figure noticed the shift in his attention, because as his sight broke from her, the unmistakable grief of cracked plastic rattled through the air, followed by an avalanche of clothes falling down wooden staircases.

A curse fell from pink lips, he looked towards her.

“You alright?” His neck craned to find her, picking up stray pieces of clothes and holding them tightly against her chest.

“I’m fine.” She muttered back, arms already full with half the pile still draped along the steps. Iwaizumi let out a soft chuckle, offering his basket with open arms.

Her small, obligatory smile engulfed him, his heart beat faster.

“Thank you, I’ll bring it back once I’ve hung everything up.” She reached for the basket and Iwaizumi practically lurched backwards, almost toppling down the stairs in the process.

“You’re alright, I’ll carry it up for you.” Iwaizumi offered her a small smile, lips widening ever so slightly once she returns it once again, more genuine than before. “Which flat are you?”

“102.” She replied absentmindedly, stuffing more clothes into the basket held tightly across the wide expanse of his sweat embellished chest.

“102?” He feigned surprise. Of course, he already figured this out. “I live in 103.” He liked how that catches her attention, unbothered eyes trailing back towards him, furrowing almost endearingly.

“103,” She muttered quietly, almost confused. She let out a small hum, as if in deep thought. “I didn’t think anybody lived there.”

An awkward silence settled between the two of them, her attention scattered from him, clustering to her phone as pearly teeth sank into pigmented skin. Iwaizumi’s eyes trailed reverently over her, almost breathless from the heat, but something else. 

Her skin glowed pearlescent from the thin sheen of moisture painting skin, chest rising and falling faster than usual as a method to circulate cool air. Minutes passed, and he tore his gaze away from her, eyes flickering towards the top of the wooden stairs.

“'Scuse me,” Iwaizumi uttered as he pushed past her. Arms brushed past each other, and he could’ve sworn that something in those milliseconds transpired. Their eyes locked once again, he swallowed the lump which had gathered in his throat. 

His footsteps were heavy, the staircase creaked under him and the immense weight of the hamper. She shadowed behind him with short, manicured fingernails hovering over the cracked glass of her cellphone, teeth dug into pillowy roseate gums. 

“Chamomile?” her voice rung through his head like drizzled honey on fresh, warm bread. “Or I have honey ginger and Valerian instead.”

Iwaizumi’s flat was a simple, white four wall hollow block with a small door leading to his bedroom. Sound travelled far in his living space, echoing through the emptiness. 

He had never bothered to decorate the apartment further than the coffee table, couch and houseplant which was gifted by his mother once he had settled in. It was desolate and somewhat miserable, streams of dispersed morning light through linen curtains the only promising aspect of the building. Otherwise, a room with a dim light and nothing else.

He was immediately overwhelmed by the scent of incense, which deluged his body once he took a step into her apartment. Her bedroom was anything but empty. Walls decorated with variable posters, each pressed in with thumbtacks. 

Music played throughout her home, making it seem almost lively in its lonesome. It was colourful, piano tucked neatly towards the back of the main area, various sheet music and miscellaneous paper surrounding it. 

“Sorry, you said something?” He was broken from his second long trance, viridian fell upon her once again.

“Tea, I asked if you wanted tea.” she leant against the wall, arms crossed as he placed the basket down with care. Iwaizumi took the sliver of a second to admire her under warm light, the silhouette of thin eyelashes illustrated on plump cheeks, his heart hummed.

“Valerian, please.” His eyes descried across her cluttered, but somewhat organised apartment, taking note of every item and photo frame which decorated the room. She was well travelled, souvenir magnets stuck to the fridge and glued there with age. He wondered how long she’d lived here for.

The boiling tea nearly burnt his fingertips, the liquid trailed down his esophagus and left a burning sensation behind, only heightened by the humid weather. She sipped with ease, placing it on the marble counter top before looking up at him again.

It was silent.

“So, you play the piano?” He asked, looking down at her with a faux apathetic expression. In reality, he was clawing at every word which fell from cotton lips, soaking each syllable up as if it were glucose. 

“Mhm,” To Iwaizumi, each sound which fell from her were almost reverent. “That, and I wanna start composing too.”

He nods, eyes flickering between her and the piano.

“I remember you used to play Harvest Moon a lot, it became my favourite song.” He didn’t realise how strange that sounded until hours later.

She chuckled lightly, bringing the ornate teacup to her lips once again before teeth tugged at the wet skin,

“Yeah, I haven’t played it in a while.”

Iwaizumi’s lips twisted upwards, teeth digging into his gums as he placed the china into her sink, careful to not let porcelain shatter.

After a couple of moments of quietude passed, Iwaizumi let out a soft sigh and stretched out his back. He didn’t want to leave, but all things end eventually.

“I think I’ll take my leave now, then.” He didn’t miss how she looked up at him, almost surprised for a second.

“I’ll walk you out… Iwaizumi, is it?”

“Haji is fine.”

-

Iwaizumi settled in bed with an almost aerate feeling in his chest, unfamiliar to him. Thin, blue sheets covered his body, cold air blaring at his face as he sighed deeply.

His body relaxed even further once the familiar sound of keys echoed through their shared wall, the chords soothed him in an inexplicable way.

He recognised the sound almost immediately, lips tugging into a tired grin.

(come a little bit closer, hear what i have to say)

It was cold in his bedroom, for the first time in a while. His body melted into the thick mattress, tanned skin curling up against each other as his eyes closed.

(when we were strangers, i watched you from afar)

The moon shone down on his bedroom, the luminescence making everything seem more palatial than it truly was. 

(because i’m still in love with you, i want to see you dance again)

His dreams conjured nothing but her, his fingers running down the expanse of her clothed spine, tugging her close. Hajime felt almost content, her skin felt like glazed gold rubbing against him, he let out a deep, assuaged sigh, at peace with himself. 

Their organs were one, tied and wrapped around each other as if ivy.

a/n; 'do u want tea' 'milk is fine😊😊'. hi guys..... ok i'm lowkey excited for this to get like 6 likes because it's nawt pde and no one cares.... also thank u to my lovely lovely friends kamey and dee for hand holding me thru this whole chap bc i could NOT have done it without them. kamey is proofreading as we speak and dee is workig idk i've bothered them both ENOUGH. ok dee is proofreading too i suppose idk. its 5am idk why i wrote this so late that's why the ending is bad and kinda cringe cos i wanted to GO TO SLEEP. amnyways be aware that the next time i update this is in 2 months because thi chapter was so HARD to write. i want to kiss every author that writes 1k+ words quickly (meeya) because jesus christ it took me 4 hours to write 100. i can hear the birds singing am i cooked. ok i'm gts now bye. i lied they are both still proofreading and i'm getting nervous! did u know i hate sharing my work i feel really naked ab it and stuff LOOL. okkkk jesus christ i need a new job.

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(12/50)

[wriokitty]

“Did you know—”

“I don’t care,” Sukuna interrupts, wholly disinterested. It’s half past three—(which is, of course, his fault, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less tired).

But you, wholly uncaring, promptly ignore him. “—That some female spiders eat the male ones after mating?”

“What do you want me to do with this information?” He looks at you irritably, glaring at you from the corner of his eyes. You flash him a grin—it’s a mischievous little thing, your lips curled in a cheeky, flirty way that warns him silently that he’s about to risk popping another vein. He seems to do that around you quite often, and it certainly feels like it’s underway once more.

(And, as it always is, his intuition would be right).

“It’s a warning,” you hum.

He snorts, raising a clearly disbelieving brow as he hums, “oh yeah? For what? Are you gonna—wha-hey!”

Not a lot catches Sukuna off guard. You giggle as he barks out a surprised yelp of your name, harshly shoving you away from his chest. There’s a nice, fresh, very crystal and very clear outline of your teeth marked right on the flesh surrounding his nipple.

He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He asks incredulously.

You let out a soft, amused little giggle that sounds through the room before he feels your weight shift and fall onto him, making him grunt as his arms steady you and his eyes stare up at your hovering face with an agitated purse of his lips.

“I’m eating you,” you say cheekily, “see?” For emphasis, you leave an equally as shocking bite to his bicep, your head leaning down to get a mouthful of his bare arm. He lets out a low, startled grunt before one large and very firm hand grabs the back of your neck and yanks you off.

“Have you completely lost it?” He hisses.

“We just mated—”

“Who on Earth talks about sex like that? We are not animals who—”

“—And now I’m going to eat you after mating. Like a female spider.”

“If you’re going to be weird, just go the fuck to sleep,” he grumbles lowly.

Sukuna is tired.

(And yes, the reason is partly because he’s a bit inexhaustible once he’s felt the velvet heat of your walls, and yes, it’s technically his own greediness that’s worn him out so physically for the night. But that’s all been the cost for something of greater benefit to him. Something he doesn’t exactly mind draining his energy for.

Bur your odd, unsettling, abnormal and very plainly weird schemes are not a part of the list of things he’s willing to sacrifice his energy for. There isn’t much pleasure in entertaining your nonsense most of the time.

If anything, there’s pain—the stinging bite marks on his skin can attest to that.)

“I’m not tired,” you hum.

“Then let me make you tired,” he offers smugly, lips tugging into a cocky grin as he looks up at you.

“If you didn’t manage that the first time, what makes you think that’ll work the second?” You tease.

He doesn’t seem to like that very much, because with a growl, he pushes the back of your neck until your face falls into the crook of his neck, a strong, bulky arm wrapping around your waist and keeping you in place against his body.

It’d be awfully intimate, and awfully sweet if he didn’t mumble, “I love when you sleep because it’s the only few hours of the day I get to hear you shut the fuck up.”

“Maybe if you’d just appreciated my fun fact—”

“You bit my fucking nipple.”

“I could bite the other one, too, if you want,” you pipe up with an excited grin. He can feel it pressed against his skin as your face buries deeper into the space between his neck and shoulder.

Sukuna is tired. Most of the time, it’s because of you. All of the time, he chooses to allow it because he likes having you around for a good fuck.

(And, of course, there’s all that bullshit about love and affection, too. But that’s just that odd stuff you like to babble about—that odd, unsettling, abnormal and very plainly weird emotional part of you that somehow ropes him into being the same way every once in a while.

He doesn’t like it.)

“You need a lobotomy,” he mutters, wincing when you bite the skin of his neck in response. Not in a manner he likes, either—very much in a manner that makes sure he feels the sharpness of your incisors.

“Don’t be rude,” you scold, “I’m biologically meant to be your predator.”

“You biologically give me fuckin’ migraines.”

You grin—it’s a smile that’s easy. Smooth. Maybe a little giddy, too. It comes out only around Sukuna. Him and his gruff, rugged way of accepting your affection, and his double as rough and crude way of giving it back. His callused hands and toughened knuckles that brush along your cheeks carefully. His crass and undignified words that are carefully thought out enough to never cross the line. His downturned lips and narrowed eyes that only ever soften at the sharp corners around you.

“Next time, I’ll eat you for sure,” you murmur, settling against his chest and getting comfortable. He wraps both arms around you, warm and tight enough that you almost think you can forgo the blanket altogether. “Assert my dominance.”

“You can’t even open the pickle jar.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s only a matter of time until natural selection gets you,” he snickers quietly. You huff, biting back a smile as he yawns.

Gently, with a kiss over the bite mark you left against his neck, you say softly, “goodnight. Love you.”

“Night.”

“I love you.”

“For the love of—love you too, holy fuck. Go to sleep.”

[screampied]

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, unprotected, size difference, ab riding, dirty talk, squírting, praise, petnames, mdni.

gym rat bf! toji who’s just so fucking big.

you can’t help but openly gawk at him whenever he’s doing his hourly reps and sets. he’s fit, and you’d just do nothing but watch the veins prod within his beefy toned arms all day if you could. “y’er daydreamin’ again,” he’d gruff, watching as you writhe around his heavy length that’s currently nestled between and inside your sapping folds. you were moaning under your breath, desperately trying to get over your most recent orgasm that left your toes curl in. “wonder what’s goin’ on in that pretty mind,” toji murmurs, lying flat back against his weight bench. he’s got nothing on but a sweat drenched tank and black loose shorts—shorts that would always show off the outline of his his raging boner—shorts that were lazily tugged way down the hem of his waist all thanks you. “fuuuckk,” he hisses, feeling you abruptly sit up with his cock loudly exiting out of you. with a squelching ‘pop’, the noise of your cunt rings throughout the thin walls of his gym and he phews. “what’s . . with that look, baby?”

“i wanna try riding these,” you’d breathe through soft breaths, creating a slow trail down his chest with your finger. a bit of sable-dark chest hair sticks against his skin, his pecs specifically. god, he was just mesmerizing to look at. he’s laid underneath you, manspread as your eyes continue to rove further down his perfectly carvened body. streams of perspiring sweat race down his hewed sculptured v-line before you stop at his curly happy trail. “wanna ride your abs, toji.”

with a sly grin, he swipes a thumb over his scarred glossed lips. “do ya now?” and you could almost see the smugness swell up in his chest. toji’s shaggy bangs fully block his vision as he gets a good look at you, making two bandaged hands glued to your waist. “weird girl,” he snickers, and you moan once his emerald eyes flicker towards your drooling wet cunt. “hn. but go ‘head then. knock y’erself out,” he tilts his head back, crossing his arms cockily. “make me proud.”

slowly, you move yourself closer toward the middle part of his body and you moan almost right away. it’s a pretty sound that he’d never get tired of hearing. toji’s perfectly muscle-bound, such swole arms and even more swole calves—so thick, your skin practically sticks against his the longer you spent on his chest.

the second your bare cunt leisurely slides against his abs, you feel a cold shudder creep down your spine.

“f- fuck,” you whimper through gritted teeth, glancing at his face to see him combing a few cramped fingers through his hair. toji’s broad frame underneath you grew idle and still—and he can’t help but snake a big callused hand around your waist, stroking a few weak pumps at his now soft cock that was inside you just milliseconds ago. “toji, your abs feel so good.”

“they better be,” he rasps as one of his forearms pulls away, stretching outward to grab onto the handle bar that’s directly above the two of you.

multiple veins of his bulge through every part of his arms and you felt yourself throbbing just at the sight. he’s so big, and you only craved more by the second. toji grunts, feeling the coolly air waft against his reddened neglected tip as you continue to thrust forward - sloppily, but forward.

your hips were pathetically slow, barely even making haste as you dragged against each flat sleek ab. you were rickety, cutely making a feeble swivel with your waist despite how your knees were on the verge of bucking. toji continues to watch you, studying your lewd facial expressions and all. he noticed how your breathing continued to change, your eyelids would grow heavy, drooping lower and lower as and your mouth hangs itself open—gasp after gasp leaving your spot-slicked lips. tossing his head back, you glance how his adam apple bob’s, and he’s giving your ass a tight squeeze. “yeah, that’s it. ride ‘em good, princess,” and his voice pitches a deep husky low once your cunt squelches right up against tightening midsection. “mhm, use those hips. fuck me good, baby.”

as shallow breaths continue to ruthlessly snatch away from your full lungs, you resume to rock back and forth against him—his sharpened pectorals now being lewdly slathered from top to bottom with your syrupy juices. “hngh, ‘s ripped,” you’d moan out, feeling your tummy heave and curl inward within every few jerk of your deranged hips. you bit the bottom of your lip, pulling skin back whilst his abs continue tighten even more right underneath you. his six pack’s now entirely wet, shining with nothing but your own candied slick and he grunts. toji hears the greedy squelches of your pussy but he only imagined what it looked like down there. as your lips form into a gasping ‘o’, your brows contort into a furrow as you start to whimper out pathetic babbles. “toji, ‘m not gonna last. fuck, fuck.”

“oh, c’mon, don’t say that, princess,” the dark haired man coos, and you then star to feel the fat round tips of his thumbs massage against your active hips. he’s steadying your waist, helping you grind faster and faster despite how your legs were close—so so close to succumbing to defeat. “y’er a big girl, keep goin’ baby, ride ‘em like you ride my cock, mhm.”

your cunt twitches at his words, at his praise and oh it’s so embarrassing. as you continue to move, toji can feel the faint spasming throbs that vibrate on his flat stomach and he snickers. “shit,” you gasp, and your hands continue to feel up inside the thin linen of his tank top. he’s so buff, you couldn’t help but salivate—imagining toji with his big bulky arms slowly wrapping around your throat. your hips start to accelerate at a much briskly pace. as you were trapped in your erotic seven second fantasm, you sob out a whimper once he spanks your ass, bringing you straight back to reality. he’s telling you to keep going, you could tell from the brief priggish look in his eyes. “toji—ngh, ‘m gonna—”

and as your sopping folds continue to move quicker against his chiseled ripped pecs—you let off a soft dramatic gasp as fluttering ripples of waves surge through your core. out of nowhere, you gush right onto his abdomen while you’re still sloppily thrusting your hips onto his tight flexing stomach. “fuck, ohmygooodd,” you’d whimper out in cute elongated mewls, dragging every poor syllable. your squelches were loud—and your eyes widen at the sheer realization that you’re squirting—trickling out lustrous spurts of your own juices. you were holding in a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, and your eyes squeeze shut completely once you fully release.

with weak bucking hips, you let off a shaky sigh and toji’s still got that annoying smug grin plastered across his face. “aw, poor baby,” a hand of his snakes around your waist, dark aroused eyes glancing at your pulsating weeping pussy. you weren’t moving anymore, and yet you were still plopped on his pecs. seconds later, you feel him flex each core muscle against your achy clit and you whimper, geysers of slick dampening his swole abs. “tch. made such a mess, ‘m all soaked,” and you moan, feeling him grab ahold of both of your wobbly unstable hips. you were dumb, dumber than you’ve ever been and all you felt was his tightened abs tensing right underneath your slobbering slick heat.

toji’s entire chiseled midsection of his chest was now sheeny, perfectly coated with your slick that makes his skin glimmer like a jewel and he hums. “my messy girl,” and a thumb of his playfully smears down your cunt, feeling it’s pulse prod against his fingertip. with an amused quirk of his thin black brow, he tastes you by licking his finger slyly. with needy eyes, you’re just blankly staring at him—panting heavily, pawing at his puffed chest for more. “oh, you’re not done?”

“n- no,” you whine, feeling a plethora of electric shockwaves erupt through the undersides of your thighs as you start to pathetically rock against his abs again, rubbing yourself against your own slippery wetness. “fuck, want more. hold still, toji.”

“ ‘m all yours,” he replied in a low mumble, giving your ass one more teasing squeeze. as he grabs a nice chunk of it, he groans throatily before laying his feet flat down against the carpet beside the bench. “good girl, keep ridin’ me,” and his hand tightens against your ass, throwing his head back with his hands covering his face. “fuck, gotta train this sloppy cunt some more anyway, heh.”

[nochepsicodelica]

Even more bear boyfriend Toji thoughts, because when is he not on the mind?

Naps, naps, naps, and more naps. He drags you into naps with him all the time. If he's going to nap, you best believe you're taking a nap too. He uses very little of his strength when it comes to holding you because he doesn't want to crush you or make you uncomfortable, but sometimes you try and fight your way out of his arms because you don't want to take a nap. You're not tired, but he is, and it's truly not his fault he grew accustomed to holding you whenever he's sleeping. It's become a habit now and he can't sleep at all without you around. Moments when you don't want to nap are when he does have to hold onto you a little tighter so that you tire yourself out as you try to free yourself from his arms. Eventually, you surrender and stop wasting your efforts on something impossible, and Toji lets out a satisfied sigh, before burying his face into the crook of your neck. You fall asleep at three in the afternoon and don't wake up until eight at night sometimes because when you start to stir awake, he hums and coos at you in his sleepy voice. It's always 'Not yet, mama. Still tired...' and 'Stop moving, pretty...' or 'aw, looks like you still need sleep, baby. I'll sleep with you, don't worry...' Supposed naps turn into hours of sleep with him :(

Will pull on your clothes for many reasons. You're on the phone, leaning against the kitchen counter and he's tugging on the back of your shirt to get you to turn around and look at him. You nod at him in question and he just grins before latching onto you from behind, burying his face into your back. If you're adventuring together, walking around and you start to wander off without him, he tugs on the hood of your sweater and brings you back to where he is, making you walk those same steps all over again, this time with him. Sometimes he'll pull down the neckline of your shirt to look at your boobs just because he's a total perv like that.

Size kink who? Size kink Toji. Loves knowing he's bigger and physically stronger than you. He loves when you shove him during a fit of anger, because he's grounded—he doesn't move at all and it pisses you off even more. When you refuse to talk to him after an argument that's gone on for too long (an hour </3) he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. You can kick and yell for him to put you down all you want, but he won't put you down until the argument is resolved. He can't have you trying to run off every time you're in a room together. He cages you in with his arms sometimes, when he wants to be all you can see, hear, smell and feel. You should be just as obsessed with him as he is with you. He uses this proximity to steal as many kisses from you as he wants, really taking the opportunity to showcase how small you are compared to him when you can't move from the position he has you in.

He's a total bear even when it comes to his bouts of jealousy. Someone stares at you for more than three seconds and he's quick to block their view of you. He stands beside you, covering you so that the stranger gets a view of his back, instead. If you're standing in line at a restaurant or coffee shop, waiting to order something and someone keeps chatting you up after you've continuously let the conversation die, he steps in. Especially, if he notices that their eyes wander away from yours, to your lips or your chest, wherever. He's not loud about it verbally, but the way he'll just pull you back a few steps into him so he can wrap himself around you screams possession. You laugh off the gesture and finish off your response to the stranger. They don't try to talk to you anymore afterwards because the way Toji stared daggers at them was scary.

Toji constantly reminds you that you're more than enough for him. When you cook for him, when you spoil him in return with things you think he may like. He always loves them because you bought them for him. There are moments when he turns from this ferocious, obsessive, enormous bear, to the smallest, most adorable cub. He's a little more quiet, but his eyes are just as expressive. He stays in one spot for a while even if you're not there. He doesn't go looking for you, he can hear you whistling as you wash dishes, but it's not like he doesn't want you around. He just thinks sometimes. Thinks about how good things are with you—thinks about what he has and he feels like he could be crushed by it all. These are the moments where you step in and make him feel extra loved. You tell him that he's good to you and that he makes you feel safe. You tell him that you love him more than you've ever loved anyone. Up until one of those moments, there was always the dilemma of whether he was a sunrise or a sunset. You finally made your decision. "You're my sunset, baby." You always know just what to say to bring him back. Toji laughed because it made absolutely no sense, but you loved on him after saying it, like it was something real— like it's normal to categorize someone as a sunrise or sunset. Regardless of how dumb it sounds out loud, if he's your sunset, you're his sunrise.

(NSFW Below)

His hands are enormous. His fingers are long and thick and he loves being able to hold you down with just one of his hands while he works his fingers in and out of you. While you squirm and whimper in his lap, embarrassed at the mess you're making on his pants, he simply coos at you, finding the whole thing endearing. You can't control the mess you're making on him. He can, and he doesn't want it to stop. Sometimes, during moments like this where you're all teary eyed in his arms, your body trembling and trying to shrink against him as he pulls orgasm after orgasm from you, he wants to hold you so tightly in his arms that you genuinely struggle to breathe or maybe crack a rib. The kisses he presses into the side of your face actually sting at some point because of the way he's so harsh and he's nipping at your skin. He wants to bite your shoulder so hard that he draws blood, he wants to pinch your tummy until his fingers leave marks on it. His bouts of cuteness aggression are no joke.

Loves when you try to take control, always so confident that you can do it, that you can ride him until you both cum. He's not gonna say anything, but he knows how you are, so he just lets it happen. His hands are on your hips, your hands on his chest as you bounce on his dick for as long as you can. You can feel yourself growing tired. Your chest is heaving and your thighs burn from the exertion. Your moans are released into the air through heavy breaths, your eyes twinkling as you realize you're right there. "C-Can't, I can't... so tired..." and Toji just looks up at you with the most lovestruck expression, a tint of pink dusted on his cheeks. You're adorable. "That's okay, mama. Let me." And he lays you onto your back, before finishing you off and finishing himself off. He cradles you afterward like you're something temporary that he doesn't want to let go of and you both end up falling asleep.

Sighhh Toji is a total bear boyfriend </3

[coqvttes]

୨୧― KINKTOBER: ❝KNOCKED UP❞ ― KENTO N.

― ꒰ BREEDING ✰ KINKTOBER M.LIST ꒱ ―

୨୧˚ synopsis: after getting turned on from seeing you being domestic in the kitchen, your doting husband is definitely not stopping until he's sure you're pregnant !

୨୧˚ warnings: nsfw 16+ only, breeding, p in v, petnames, praise, fem!reader, sub!reader, dom!kento, fingering, tummy bulge, creampie, teasing, lmk if i forgot anything!

୨୧˚ wc: 1.4k (sorry it’s not proofread)

your doting husband, kento just couldn't help himself when he saw you fussing around in his little kitchen. the enchanting smell of fresh pancakes had stirred him from his sleep in the bedroom, and he wondered what you were up to when he noticed that his wife's spot on the bed was empty. appearing in the doorway of the kitchen in his briefs, he freezes as he sees you prancing around in the kitchen. taking in the sight of you. 

there you are, sporting the linen workshirt he wore yesterday, styled with your cute little apron over it. clearly, you aren't wearing anything underneath the shirt, save for your cute lacy panties that he just loves so much.

he ponders if he should just take you right there. bend you over the worktop push those panties of yours to the side and make love to you like last night. you just look so gorgeous and domestic like this, waking up early just to change into HIS clothes to cook him HIS breakfast in HIS kitchen. how can he resist the temptation? god, sometimes he thinks you do it on purpose just to rile him up. and it works. 

"good morning, kento," the sound of your sweet voice forced him out of his perverted thoughts and his eyes met with your gentle ones. you were holding a delicate plate of freshly made pancakes, just for him with that sweet smile on your face. warmth filled his heart as he looked at you with adoration and lust. 

"g'morning, darling," he says in that sexy morning voice of his. your mouth almost waters at the sight of him. hair tousled, shirtless and a tired smirk on his handsome face. he notices the way you stare at him and he doesn't know how it happened but he's approaching you, pulling you in by the waist for a sweet kiss, sealed with passion and devotion. 

"you look too good in that shirt and cute little apron of yours," he groans, hands slipping down your hips to grab onto your arse. you squeal as he unexpectedly lifts you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, your palms flat against his chest. 

"w-what about breakfast?" he chuckles at your concern and grins. 

"who needs breakfast when i have you, hm?" he chuckles, carrying you back into the bedroom, you giggle as he plops you down on the bed, climbing over you. his fingers play with the strands of your hair before he speaks.

"god, you're so perfect in my shirt. so pretty for me, hm? all mine, aren't you?" his fingers slide under the shirt as he kisses you, caressing you tenderly before moving up further to grope your tits. he smiles into your lips as he feels how hard your nipples are for him, pinching and tugging at them gently, eliciting a choked whine from your throat.

"all yours, kento," your voice is breathy, so desperate for his touch. he skillfully unbuttons the shirt and peels it off of you, letting the cool air blow over your now bare torso. your fingers tangle in his blonde locks as he envelops your nipple in his warm mouth. you mewl softly from the stimulation whilst he gazes at you through his eyelashes, you look so heavenly like this. 

releasing your wet nipple he moves lower down your body. as he spreads your legs, exposing the wet stain on your panties, he chuckles. he ducks down and presses his lips against your clothed cunt. his pointer finger slips under the lace, pulling it down your legs, revealing your needy cunt.

"fuck, darling, let me put a baby into you, hm? make you mine forever? would you like that?" he asks, his slender fingers, slipping into your hole slowly. you nod profusely, choking on your words as he stuffs you full with his digits. sliding them in and out of you slowly, he curls his fingers to tease that sweet spot inside of you that makes your walls clench around him.

"use your words, sweetheart." 

"yes, yes! wan' your babies, kento. wan' it so bad. wan' to be yours forever-!" you babble mindlessly, completely unaware of how much your words are affecting him right now. the thought of having kids with you and how much you want it too, makes his dick so hard. his heart is beating fast as the phrases truly sink into his mind.

with that, he withdraws his now slick-covered fingers, before lowering his head down, capturing your plump lips with his. your hand moves down between your bodies to palm his bulge through his briefs. he pulls away from your lips and groans with how painfully hard he is and he tugs his briefs off, dropping them onto the floor carelessly. 

your eyes are fixated on his cock that yearns to be inside of your warmth. he pumps his length a few times, drops of precumming spilling out of his sensitive tip as he slowly lines himself up with your drooling entrance. you mewl out lewdly as he pushes himself in, filling you up completely and your palms fly up to his shoulders for purchase. 

your thankful he prepped you a little bit earlier otherwise you're not so sure if you could take him in one go like this. after a few heartbeats, he rolls his hips slightly, his pelvis rubbing against your puffy clit and you moan softly. 

he picks up the tempo, his thrusts now faster and harder as the room echoes with the sounds of your pleasure and the bed creaking. his strong arms move your legs up to rest on his broad shoulders, making the position more intimate but most importantly, making it easier for him to go deeper.

his eyes are fixed on the way your cunt keeps sucking him in, the way you can see his bulge in your tummy and the way you look at him with those adoring doe eyes. he dips his head down to seize your lips in a kiss.

the kiss was gentle and innocent compared to the sinful actions being committed with each of his powerful thrusts. with every single drag of your tight cunt against his dick, constantly clenching around him deliberately which forced out a long string of groans as he felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge.

"k-kento!" 

he dotes on the sound of your sweet voice calling out his name in a choked whisper, your nails clawing down his back. your cunt pulsing around his cock. your juices spilling from your hole as he thrusts into you like there's no tomorrow.

“that feel good, darling?” the rumble of his voice against your ear makes you shiver slightly. 

"can't wait to see your tummy swollen with my babies in you, you'll look so gorgeous."

“mmm—!” moans and whines bubble up in your throat as a response to his teasing words. the thought of having his children makes your mind go fuzzy and your heart swell. you want it more than anything. 

“i love you, sweetheart,” he coos, pulling away from your neck to look into your eyes. his husky voice, how close his lips are, the lust evident in his gaze, it all makes your mind go fuzzy. 

"i love you, kento! love you s'much!" you cry as you cream around his cock, cunt tensing around him which pushes him over the edge too. he lets out a broken moan as his warmth fills you up. he stays inside of you for a few moments, not wanting his cum to go to waste. 

"mmm, can't wait for you to get pregnant, sweetheart," he confesses, pulling you into his arms as he lays down on the mattress.

“i think the pancakes are cold,” you pout, turning your head to look up at him through your lashes and he chuckles down at you.

"that's alright, darling... i've already had my meal, haven't i?"

oh yes, he has...

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ all works belong to © coqvettes 2023. i do not give permission to claim, translate or copy any of my works. reblogs are appreciated!

[beloveds-embrace]

(more of poly 141 x roommate reader bc i got enabled: surprising them when they return home)

The aroma of roasted garlic and thyme filled the apartment, and along with it your voice as you fluttered about the kitchen while music played from your phone. You placed plates of perfectly golden roast chicken, mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables on the dining table beside bowls of creamy mushroom soup and a fresh salad and freshly baked bread.

You would never regret that cooking course you picked up. Everything just looked so… perfect. And that was without mentioning the apple pie and chocolate cake you’d also made, set aside on cute little cake pedestals you’d recently bought.

You smoothed the fabric of your skirt, picking up your phone to check on the time; they’d arrive home any moment now and you couldn’t wait to see their reactions. You’d been planning this dinner since yesterday, when Kate Laswell had called to let you know your roommates would be home today after months of being away on a mission so you could prepare this surprise for them.

You’d promised to send her and her lovely wife a big, big portion just for helping you like that. You always get worried when they take this long, but Kate tried her best to keep you up to date about them whenever they had to be no-contact with you.

The sound of the front door unlocking made your pulse quicken, and you hurried to the entryway, a bright smile on your face. You’d made sure even the candles you and Gaz like to collect were lit up, bathing the apartment in a soft golden light.

“Surprise!” you called, spreading your arms as they stepped inside, grin wide and proud.

For a moment, they stood frozen, tired eyes sweeping over the sight of you and the glowing apartment and the lovely smell of a big, warm dinner. Price was the first to move, dropping his bag and crossing the room in several long strides. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a firm embrace, and you melted against him right away, breathing in the familiar scent of him- smoke, leather, and something uniquely John.

“Hi!” You chirped again, patting his back.

“You’ve outdone yourself, love.” he murmured instead of a proper greeting, voice thick with gratitude.

Soap was next, scooping you into a hug so enthusiastic it lifted you off your feet right after John let you go. “Missed ya, lass,” he said, his grin bright despite the weariness in his eyes. “Look at ya, a sight fo’ sore eyes!”

“Put me down, MacTavish!”

Gaz kissed your cheek the second Johnny obeyed, his hand lingering on your shoulder. “You didn’t have to do all this, darling.” he said softly, though the way he looked at you made it clear he appreciated every bit of it.

Ghost, towering behind them, stood silently for a moment. His eyes roamed over you, taking in the nervous smile tugging at your lips. Without a word, he stepped forward and pulled you into his chest, one large hand cradling the back of your head.

“Perfect girl, thank you.” he muttered, so low you barely heard it. But you did feel it rumble through his body.

You laughed, stepping back and gesturing toward the table. You had to know what they thought of it. “Go wash up. Dinner’s ready.”.

Johnny piled his plate high, moaning exaggeratedly at every bite and making you laugh until your sides hurt. Gaz teased him about his lack of table manners while sneaking extra bread rolls for himself. Price, ever the gentleman, made sure your plate was full before his own, and Simon quietly made his way through two full helpings even, the corner of his mouth twitching into the faintest smile when you nudged him to try the mushroom sauce.

Oh yes, you cooked. In more ways than one. You were so very proud of yourself, felt like you’d blow up like a balloon if they complimented you any more.

“This is the best meal I’ve had in months,” Johnny declared at last, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied sigh and patting his stomach. He turned to you, gently caressing his knuckles across your full cheeks. “Thank ya, lass. Truly an angel.”

“You’ve ruined me for army food forever,” Kyle added, humming as he bit into another spoonful, smiling at your giggles. “Whatever next mission we’ll have is so going to suck, by the way. I mean it.”

Price reached over, covering your hand with his. “You didn’t have to do all this, love, but I’m damn glad you did,” he said, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. His mustache twitched, and he smiled at you. “Kyle’s right, though.”

Simon didn’t speak much, but the way his gaze lingered on you, warm and heavy, spoke volumes. You’d already learned how to decipher his little looks, anyways.

As the evening wound down and they cleaned the kicthen, then went to rest in the living room, you brought out the second surprises: the chocolate cake and apple pie, earning a round of groans and cheers. They insisted on helping with the second round of dishes, but you waved them off, laughing.

“Go relax,” you said, shooing them toward the living room. “This is my treat for you. You were supposed to be relaxing today!”

Though you didn’t notice the way they watched you as you moved about the kitchen.

When you finally joined them, changing into something more comfortable, you curl up on the couch tucked against Simon’s warm side and his arm drape around your shoulders almost instinctively. Soap stretched out across the floor, his head resting on a pillow near your feet, while Kyle sat on the other side of you, casually brushing his hand against yours.

It didn’t take much before you were dozing off, their quiet congestion washing over you as a soothing ambiance. You relaxed even further when you were shifted to lay fully against Simon while Kyle put your feet on his lap and began massaging your calves.

John stood by the balcony, his cigar glowing faintly in the dim light. He looked at you, surrounded by them, and something in his chest loosened.

You were too good for them, truly. Such a lovely, perfect sweetheart. But he also just- couldn’t stand the idea of you being with anyone else. Never.

So he wouldn’t entertain that thought. You were perfect as you were now; just a bit more time, and they’d tell you right out how much they want you in every possible way.

Though he didn’t imagine it’d be that hard, anyways. You already acted like their perfect little wife.

[corkinavoid]

Hey, @confused-they, this is for you and for everyone else who wanted more of this AU. Merry Christmas.

DPxDC Ring of Rage? More Like Ring of Engage [pt. 4]

[<- part 3]

[Written to 'Tantrum' by Ashnikko]

TW: mentioned mild gore (some inside parts become outside ones, nothing graphic)

Tim can't breathe.

Joker's mad laughter is ringing through the darkness of the warehouse, echoing in his head, the screeching sound straight out of nightmares. Hood should be nearby - as in, somewhere in this darkness along with him - but Tim can't think about that, his own maniacal giggles bubbling in the back of his throat, a grin tugging at his lips.

He has to get up. He has to stand, he has to fight, and it really shouldn't be this hard.

But he can't breathe.

Tim clutches his fingers on the fabric of his suit on the chest, distantly wondering if this is how Danny feels when he is more human than ghost. Probably not, he mentioned that breathing is only optional.

He really wants his boyfriend right now. His fiance. Whatever, he wants Danny, he wants his cold hands on his cheeks and the faint, humming purr of his core that Tim finds nice to fall asleep to, and-

Maybe later. He can't exactly summon him now, not in the middle of a fight, especially not in the middle of a fight with Joker of all people.

There's an angry growl somewhere to Tim's left, staticky through the voice-modulator. Then several sounds of gunshots and a gleeful, taunting yell of the madman.

Hold on.

Tim snaps his eyes open - not that anything changes, everything is still pitch-black around him - and blinks.

Why not?..

It's not like Danny is a civilian. Tim tends to pay little attention to the fact since the King of Infinite Realms doesn't hang out with the whole superhero convention on principle. But Tim is pretty sure he won't mind it this once.

Besides, Tim is so done with Joker that it's not even funny.

A few breathy chuckles escape his throat as he lets his body fully slump back on the floor and brings his left hand to his face, placing a quick kiss on the Ring through his glove. He doesn't need to do that, not really, but it's kind of a ritual at this point, and the gesture somehow makes him feel better.

"Danny," he whispers.

For a long moment, nothing happens.

Then, there's a soft, popping sound, and his beautiful boyfriend is floating right over him, faintly glowing and a little sleepy. Tim is momentarily distracted by his bare feet and pj pants with tiny rockets on them.

Danny yawns and tugs the hem of his t-shirt down as it starts to float. "Whas'sup," he mutters, rubbing his eyes and clearly not fully awake, and Tim's heart melts instantly. He loves Danny. He just... He loves him, okay? He loves that Danny didn't question his summons for a moment, he loves that he came even though he was obviously sleeping, and he loves that Danny is wearing a tee he stole from Tim.

Unfortunately, before he is able to get his shit back together, another sound of gunshot ripples through the air, and Danny startles, blinking himself awake and looking in the direction of it. Then, his eyebrows shoot up, and his mouth makes a soft 'O' shape before he turns back to Tim and tilts his head in question.

"You want me to deal with him? The clown, I mean, not your brother," he asks, and it's so casual and off-handed that Tim actually huffs a laugh.

"Sorry, I was just- I'm really tired of his ass," Tim should probably sit up, this is not a talk they should have while he is lying on the ground. On the other hand, Jason is somewhere out there, and he has guns and doesn't have a clear visual around him, so maybe Tim shouldn't sit up.

Danny hums, "Is that a yes?"

Tim just nods. He is pretty sure Danny can see him despite the darkness. "I promise it's a one-time thing, I don't plan on calling you every time one of local lunatics acts up. I just... I fucking can't with him," he admits with a defeated sigh. But, before he can spiral any further into the abyss of unworthiness, Danny's cold hands are cupping his cheeks, and his icy eyes are looking right into Tim's sky blue.

"Love, I don't mind getting rid of each and every one of your Rogues. Granted, it would probably fuck up the timeline, and Clocky would be mad, but I'd do it if you want me to, no questions asked." His voice is quiet, and Tim has never been more grateful for his domino mask, because he can feel his cheeks heating up and he doesn't want Danny to see the exact effect his words are causing.

"I- Okay," he quietly agrees, and then blinks, backtracking, "Wait, no, don't fuck up the timeline. Just deal with the laughing bitch this once, and that's it. We can handle the rest."

Danny is smiling at him in that adoring way Tim recognizes as 'I really want to kiss you, but it's not the time or place'. Then, he nods and lets go of Tim's cheeks, straightening up in the air, and his clothes shift all at once, like a magic trick.

Gone are the stretched out t-shirt and the pants with rocket ships. In their place, Danny's body is head to toe covered in stars and galaxies that hold the vague shape of armor, and there's a slightly shimmering, blueish-green translucent cape over one of his shoulders.

The Crown over his head, the sentient artifact much like the Ring on Tim's finger, appears from nowhere, and, after a brief pause - Tim swears it was debating on whether or not the situation is worth the effort - promptly sets itself on fire. Blue flames cast long shadows on Danny's, no, King's face, making him look older and his cheekbones sharper.

Before, the boy was only faintly glowing, and, evidently, the others present in the warehouse were too distracted to notice him.

But now, with the flaming Crown casting dancing shadows on the walls of the warehouse, it's really hard not to see the otherworldly being making an appearance.

"Holy fuck," Tim hears Hood's quiet, astonished voice, and almost cracks a grin.

Yeah, he wants to say, that's my boyfriend. Although he suspects he and Jason are having vastly different reactions to Danny's presence. Because Tim kind of wants to take all his words about dealing with Joker back and take Danny home, straight to bed.

...He is going to have to strangle Jason in his sleep if his reaction is similar. No, that's a wrong thought, this is so not the time for it.

"Who are you, flying glowstick?" Joker sounds rightfully pissed off by the interruption, "Does Batsy employ alien kids now?"

Danny chuckles, the starry freckles on his cheeks glowing brighter, "Okay, just because you compared me to an alien, I'm not going to completely erase you from this plane of existence."

Tim snaps his head up.

"Wait, no killing," he reminds, not because he actually cares but because B would throw a fit. Danny brushes him off with a wave of his hand.

"No worries, he'll stay alive," he smiles at Tim, and to everyone else, it probably looks like stuff of nightmares, sharp, pointy teeth and lips stretched out far beyond human capabilities. But Tim sees it for what it is: a face of mischief.

"Do I get a vote in this?" Jason's deadpan voice comes from somewhere on the other side of the warehouse at the same moment as Joker screeches in rage, "Who the fuck do you think-"

"Nope," Danny pops the 'p', and Tim is not sure if he is answering to Hood or refusing to listen to the clown's monolog by it. Maybe it's both. It's probably both.

The next moment, Danny is gone, disappeared from the place he was floating at, and Tim hears a wet, very unpleasant sound followed by Joker's scream of pain.

"You see this?" He hears Danny's nonchalant, unfazed voice above the clown's pained cries, "This is your rib, bitch- Hey, quit whining and listen to me, it's important."

There's a slap, a rustle, and a sound of ripping fabric, and Joker's voice becomes muffled, like someone put a gag in his mouth.

"You're like Adam now, you know, lacking one rib," Danny continues, "Only I'm not making you a girl out of this one, I'm pretty sure you don't deserve to reproduce. Anyway, going further down that metaphor, I'm the God almighty in this situation, so if you want to keep the rest of your ribs - and the rest of other things that are supposed to stay inside of you - to yourself, you gotta do a thing for me, okay?"

There's some muffled groans that Joker makes in response, then an enraged growl, a sound of a struggle, another slap, and then that same wet, disgusting squelch.

"Two ribs, wow, okay, you're really being difficult about this!" Danny sounds so innocently dumbstruck about it that Tim suppresses a laugh. "Are you listening now?" There's a quiet, choking wheeze that answers him, and Danny sounds quite pleased when he says, "Great."

Tim debates if he should look. He doesn't exactly want to since the sounds provide enough context, but it might be somewhat cathartic for him.

And then the air around him inexplicably shifts, becoming cold and oppressive, weighting Tim down like a heavy blanket and pushing him into the floor. The dancing shadows and the blue light of flames on the walls twist and churn, like taking aim, and Tim doesn't know what Danny looks like right now but he knows he is as far from human as possible, his voice coming with a staticky, echoing whisper, a threatening hiss slithering inside Tim's ears.

"Play your little games all you want, Fallen Jester, but know that you can not win. The punchline to your joke is long overdue, and your soul has belonged to me for quite some time now," his words are cold and uncaring, and in all the time Tim has known his boyfriend, he has never heard him speak like this: with a sense of lazy power, like he is only humoring the people around him.

Like they mean nothing to him.

"I will not kill you, or at least not here and now. My Guiding Star doesn't want to see my hands dirty with your filthy remains. Besides, death is only a moment, and you don't deserve only a moment of suffering," he huffs a short, humorless chuckle, "But, luckily, I am the Eyes of the Universe, the Titan's Bane, the King of the Dead, and everyone will meet me once their eyes fall shut for the last time," there's a smile in his voice now, full of cold and merciless anticipation. Tim feels a shiver run down his spine.

"So just you wait, Jester, and I will meet you on the other side. Then we'll see how whatever is left of your soul is going to spend an eternity."

Tim's ears are ringing with the pure, somehow gleeful hatred that laces those last words. He didn't know he could literally taste the disgust and the promise of pain, and yet, here he is, with a hint of something sour on his tongue.

And then, the heavy, weighted air that has been charged with power is lifted, the shadows and bright blue lights are all gone, and Danny, wearing his pj's and smiling, is standing over him. His feet are planted on the ground for once, and the Crown is gone without a trace, but his t-shirt is still trying to float up. The boy tugs it down again, offering a hand to Tim.

"Wanna go out for a burger since I'm already here in Gotham?"

Tim had never breathed easier in his life. He laughs a little and reaches up, taking his beautifully unhinged boyfriend's hand and standing up.

"I thought you'd never ask."

[aliteralsemicolon]

Thinking about how Spencer takes care of you when you're too exhausted to take care of yourself.

He walks into your bedroom to find you on the brink of sleep, carelessly curled up on your end of the bed and his brows raise in slight concern as he scans you. You couldn't even be bothered to change out of your day clothes. He chuckles lightly at the sight, as he makes his way to you.

"Baby?" He gently calls to you, rubbing your calf with his hand as he takes a seat next to your legs. You're unable to respond to the sound of his voice despite hearing it. He tries again, this time kneeling on the floor next to your head.

"Angel?" His fingers lightly brush through your hair as he whispers near your ear.

"Hmm?" You reply hazily.

You wait for him to speak so you can go back to sleep but all that follows is silence. He resumes his motions in your hair and it keeps you aware of his presence. He's waiting for you to gain some more consciousness. You rub your eyes, fluttering them open and Spencer's quick to guide your hand away from your face.

Right. Your makeup.

"What's up?" You mumble, stifling a yawn.

"I know you're tired, and I'm sorry for having to wake you up," he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "but you do know why it's bad for you to fall asleep like this?"

This is a topic the two of you have discussed before. You're usually quite meticulous about removing your makeup before bed, but you're also no stranger to nights when you can't find any energy to do so.

"Mhm. Clogged pores, risk of infections, bacteria spread, discomfort…" You trail off, summarising his extensive research.

Getting you up and off this bed is a losing battle tonight and Spencer graciously accepts defeat, sporting an endeared grin.

"Can I at least help you get comfortable? Would it be alright if I took these off for you?" He tugs at your top and waits for your response. You nod, letting out a barely audible hum.

Spencer moves off the floor and begins to remove your clothing. "You're gonna have to help me just a little bit, Angel. Lift your hips for me."

You blindly follow his commands, wanting to get it over with so that he can relax and you can go back to sleep. He doesn't relax, though. As he rids you of the last of your clothing, he mentally fights himself on letting you sleep with your make-up. There are so many risks involved, but hygiene aside, Spencer knows that if you wake up with your pillow stained– or God forbid…a pimple– you're going to be beyond pissed with yourself.

The sudden dip in the mattress slightly startles you, as a cool feeling drags against your cheek and you whine.

"Shhhh, sorry, it's just me." Spencer coos.

"What're you doing?" You groan, squeezing your eyes shut, still in a sleepy haze.

"Just wiping off your makeup, sweet girl. You're going to thank me tomorrow." His finger hooks under your chin and he soothingly rubs his thumb just under your lips.

"Spence…" You begin whining but you're unable to pronounce anything else coherently.

He can tell you're slightly irritated, but he doesn't mind. He knows that it's the exhaustion talking.

"I know, I know." He sympathises with his continually gentle tone. "I'm almost done. You're being so good for me right now."

Your lips pout, but you don't complain any further, his words calming you. By the time he's finished ridding your face of cosmetic residue, you're knocked out again. Light snores can be heard from you. He chuckles to himself at the sight of you. So peaceful. So adorable. He leans in closer and plants a firm, lingering kiss on your forehead before he disappears to get ready for bed himself.

"Spence?"

He turns around at your groggy voice, still half asleep. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

"Anytime, my pretty girl."

[amortxt]

⠀ㅤ⠀ ⠀𖥻⠀ㅤ⠀﹫⠀toji⠀fushiguro.

ㅤㅤⓘㅤㅤfluff, reader and toji have an estab relationship + reader is mamaguro. not proof-read so excuse any issues ^_^.

toji had conked out on the couch after promising you and your son a movie night. you have to give him props, he made it through the first 44 minutes and that was honestly a new record. your son giggled as you dragged the sharpie across his face, drawing all sorts of silly things on the man.

"mama, i wanna draw somethin'!" megumi tugged at your top, trying to get your attention. you took him on your lap and he uncapped the bright blue sharpie and went straight for his dads arm.

he drew an assortment of flowers and clouds. a little landscape on his fathers muscles. you couldn't hold it in and just burst out with laughter, megumi following suit.

it was all the more funnier hearing his snores, knowing he was dead asleep whilst his beloved son and wife drew atrocities ( little hearts and sparkles) all over his exposed skin.

"he looks beautiful, mama." megumi looked at you with bright, happy eyes. you took him into an embrace and squeezed him, cuteness aggression flooding you. you squealed and he groaned, and you both fell on top of your husband, successfully waking him up.

you two both looked at him with wide eyes and a dropped mouth. he made a lopsided, tired smile at you as he brought his untouched hand to rub his eyes. megumi made a cheeky smile back at him and you pursed your lips.

toji grumbled and yawned, still tired and just slightly humoured with his wife and son's antics. if only he had known the full picture. (pun intended). "whatcha lookin' at me like that for?"

"nothin' baby. you just look so pretty." the smile that was plastered on your face was incredulous. you couldn't wipe it off. not when your monster-hunk, tough guy of a man had bright sharpie and sparkly glitter all over his face and body. poor guy was probably still too tired to even notice it. you'd almost feel bad.

almost.

megumi could barely hold in his chortle and just let it all out. toji looked at him funny and you shrugged it off. kids. he seemed satisfied with your answer. and you made a loving grin.

you turned off the TV and sent toji off to bed, megumi holding your index finger and dragging you to his bedroom so you could go and tuck him in.

as you were sitting on megumi's bed, he began to chat. "mama.?" "yes sweetie?" "can i draw on you too?"

you looked at him and chewed the inside of your cheek. "uhm.. oh i don't know about that…"

"i do." you turned around you to see the hulking shadow the loomed at the doorway. you stared with eyes that seemed less serious when there was pink marker around them. in his hand he held some other permanent markers. all bright and all glittery. he had a strangely dangerous smirk on his face.

"and you're gettin' it tonight, ma."

⠀ㅤ⠀⠀©⠀all work written by ﹫amortxt. do not repost.

[evie-sturns]

begging - Chris Sturniolo

summary: when chris gets home after filming, he is the most desperate youve ever seen him, he is literally a horny, clingy, wreck. after a lot of begging you finally give him exactly what he needs.

contains: sub!chris, smut, needy!chris, teasing, overstimulation, fluff.

-----------------------------♡----------------------------

6:14pm

i lay down on the couch in my pink pyjama set, curled up as i scroll through my phone. suddenly my head perks up as i hear the door unlock.

chris walks through the door, throwing his bag down and slipping off his shoes.

"hi chris!" i call out from the living room,

chris lets out a small whine in response, instantly dragging his feet over to the couch. i smile up at him as i open my arms, chris instantly flops down.

he lands ontop of me with a small grunt, instantly cuddling into me. he rests his head on my neck.

"you tired?" i whisper softly,

chris shakes his head, "no..." my eyebrows furrow as i run my nails up and down his back.

"do you feel sick?" i ask, his head shakes again.

"whats up with you then?' i mumble,

chris shakes his head, refusing to anwser.

i stay silent for a few moments, waiting for him to respond.

"can you touch me..?" chris whispers, pulling his head away from the crook of my neck to look into my eyes.

"so thats what this is about yeah?" i giggle,

his cheeks flush but he doesn't stop, "please- 'm so horny." his tone is somewhat desperate, a small whine in his voice.

"im tired chris, not today." i whisper, still rubbing his back.

"but- please, i've- i've been needy all day for you 'n i wasnt home at all today- please." he rambles, staring into my eyes with half lidded eyes.

"chris baby, i told you that im tired, maybe tomorrow yeah?" i mutter,

chris lets out a high pitched whine, clutching onto my shirt with balled up fists.

"i can't wait- please i just need you so bad ma, please, seriously." he babbles on, his grip on my pyjama shirt getting tighter.

i let out a small laugh, but he instantly cuts me off.

"stop! 's not funny!" he groans, burying his head in my chest.

i keep up my smirk,

"baby, just go upstairs and sort yourself out okay?" i speak softly, gently rolling him off of me.

"i cant- i wont be able to cum without you." he says, slightly panting now.

i stay silent, just staring at him.

i can't even deny the fact im getting more and more turned on by the second, looking at his completley flushed face, and the red tint spread across his cheeks from how embarrassed he is, looking just so pathetic begging for me like this.

i continue to just look at him, split between wanting to go to bed now and just giving him what he really, really wants.

chris burys his head back into my stomach.

"look at me." i whisper, he shakes his head.

i pull his head away from me, and grab his chin, tilting it up so he has to look at me.

he has teary, glassed over eyes.

a smirk tugs at my lips, almost in shock.

"are you about to cry?" i grin,

"no! im just! im so frustrated!" he grumbles.

"hey, fine, cmon." i whisper, standing up off the couch and grabbing his hand.

he stands up on shaky legs as i drag him to the bedroom, his eyes lighten immediately as he sees what is going on.

he suddenly has more of a spring in his step, and the tears in his eyes have gone.

i pull him into the bedroom, pushing him down onto the bed.

he looks up at me, staying silent and still.

“don’t get all shy on me now chris.” i speak, referencing his frozen figure and wide eyes.

“sorry.” he whispers, clutching the bedsheets.

“go on, take everything off f’me.” i tell him, folding my arms over his chest.

he nods frantically, instantly reaching down and fumbling with his belt buckle, throwing it across the room to the floor.

he unbuttons his jeans with shaky hands, sliding them down his legs before reaching for his shirt, which he throws off aswell.

he sits on the bed in his boxers, a sheepish expression on his face.

i can tell his cock is tucked into his waistband of his boxers, proving he’d been hard for a while.

“how long have you been hard.” i scoff, staring down at him,

he wipes a few strands of hair out of his eyes before speaking, “too long.” he mutters.

“let me take care of you, yeah? boxers off.” i tell him,

he tugs down his boxers and his erection springs out, his tip tapping his stomach, smearing his precum against the pale skin.

his tip is raw and red, it almost looks borderline painful.

i crawl onto the bed between his legs, resting my head on his thigh.

his dick sits straight up right by my face,

chris stares down at me, his eyelids heavy and lips a dark pink.

his loose hairs stick to his forehead as he lets out shallow breaths.

“please.” he mutters under his breath, his hips bucking up and his dick brushing my cheek.

i shake my head, placing a firm hand on his lower belly to hold him down to the bed.

“no, no squirming.” i mumble,

“i need it so bad- please- i’m so sore.” his voice cracks,

i grin slightly at his plea,

“please!” he raises his voice, his tone high pitched,

“please what..?” i decide to tease him a little bit more.

“please- please touch me, please- i’ll do anything baby.” he pants,

“finee.” i whisper, dragging my nails up and down his thighs,

i finally wrap my fingers around his stiff cock, i can feel his throbbing in my hand.

“i want your mouth- i need your lips.” he breathes,

“good boy, telling me what you want.” i grin,

i pump him a few times, my fist clenched tight around his length.

i drag my thumb up the long vein which travels up his dick, eliciting a loud moan from him.

my lips part as i stick my tongue out, gently licking up the underside of his cock, from his base to his pink raw tip.

he lets out a cross between a sigh and a whimper, the pleasure getting to him.

i finally wrap my lips around his tip, his eyes roll back into his head as he arches his back off the bed.

“oohh my godd..” he breathes, a smile on his face as his jaw falls slack.

i swirl my tongue around his tip, gathering the salty precum in my mouth.

his hands travel up to my hair, his long fingers intertwining into the strands.

i gently take more of him down my throat, gagging as he hits the back of my throat

“fucking- so- good” he gasps out,

i pick up my pace, bobbing my head up and down on his cock,

chris squirms on the bed, his hands tightening in my hair as he lets out strings of curses.

“i’m gonna cum- i’m gonna cum- please i’m so close-“ he babbles,

after a few seconds i pull off of him, edging him completely.

he looks down at me with wide eyes, almost looking like he could burst into tears right there.

“that’s not fair- that’s not fair!” he pants,

he reaches down and grabbing his cock in his own hands.

i instantly pull his hands away, shaking my head.

“but- ‘s not fair!” he says with a loud whine.

i sit up, rubbing his cheek, “i know it’s not fair, but i wanna ride you yeah?”

his eyes light up somewhat, but he still looks pissed.

i peel off my tank top, following with my tiny pyjama shorts.

i sit naked infront of him, he throws his head back.

“it hurts- i’m so hard it hurts.” he whispers,

my nipples harden at his words, the dampness between my thighs getting more prominent.

i shift up and i straddle his waist,

his hands reach up and grab my waist, his fingers digging into the skin.

i sit fully bare on his waist, my arousal dripping onto his skin.

he lets out a trembling breath, staring up at me piercingly.

i sit up on my knees before shifting back,

i reach down and grab his length, positioning his tip right at my entrance.

his head throws back, his fingers digging painfully hard onto my skin,

after a few seconds, i finally sink down onto his tip,

chris lets out a pathetic whimper as his hands fly down to the matress, his hands balling up the sheets.

i sink further, and further down before bottoming out.

my stomach fills with a familiar warmth, i let out a shaky moan as my stomach feels heavy and warm.

“thank you- thank you- thank you so much oh my god-“ he whines, his legs shaking subtly.

i start to bounce on his length, the stretch burning, in such a good way.

chris seems to be enjoying it as much as i am, his eyes trained on my tits as he fights to keep his eyes from rolling back into his head.

“i lo- love you so much- god you feel incredible.” he rambles out, his voice croaky and cracking.

he hands fly up to my breasts, squeezing them as he moans loudly.

“i’m so close already- i need to cum-“ he whispers, his hands sinking into my tits.

i bite back a smile at how hard he’s gripping me, it’s almost painful but i decide to not comment on it, instead just grabbing his hands and moving them to my waist.

i clench around him, the warmth spreading through my abdomen as i feel myself get closer.

“please let me cum- i need to- please—“ he breathes,

he arches his back off the bed, his head tipping back

his brown locks fall over his face, also spreading against the matress.

he sinks his teeth stupidly hard into his bottom lip, so hard to the point i can see blood drawing.

i feel my chest tighten as pleasure overwhelms me, my cheeks burning and my legs aching from the effort.

a loud moan rips out of me as i clench around him again, tighter this time.

i feel my orgasm crash down on me, riding it out to the best of my ability before flopping down on his chest.

i feel chris follow right after me, spurts of white filling my insides.

the room goes partially silent, only filled with our panting from both of us.

i slowly pull off of him, my whole body feels like it’s on fire.

chris’s cum leaks out of me onto the bedsheets, but i can’t be asked to care about that right now.

“i love you.” he breaks the silence, wrapping his arms around my back and rolling us over so he’s ontop of me.

i mumble a vague, ‘love you too’ as i hold him ontop of me.

after several minutes of laying like this he finally breaks the silence.

“i don’t think you understand how good that felt..” he whispers,

i grin tiredly, with a small hum.

“why did you have to make me wait so long- i think that’s the worst pain i’ve been in all year.” he whispers,

“i liked watching you beg!” i giggle,

“shut up- shush.” he laughs, his face going red.

“you were all, ‘pleasee i’m so soree let me cummm’.” i tease him,

he clasps a hand over my mouth, “i hate you.” he grins.

-

@sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnn n @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow w @mattfangirl girl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle e @h3arts4harry @jamiesturniolo o @chrisstopherfilmed @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @certifiednatelover er @solarsturniolo larsturniolo lo @mattsenthusiast t @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette e @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0tripletzz @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonlybitch @justalittle47 @sunsetsturniolos @sturniolo04 @similartokayyz @sturnsintrouble @ilovemattsturn @raysmayhem-72 @75sturn @sturniol0s @secret-sturniolo @hfkeclnendmwodne @sturniolosass @gxldenlush @stonermattsgf @101saroona a @beccaluvschris @oliviasturniolo21 1 @imwetforyourmom @tylerstacobell @sunsetsturniolos @aliceloveschris @jayz4dayz 4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover r @nathandoesgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 @sturnthepot @zayyluvz @realuvrrr @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs @riowritesitall john @raysmayhem-72

[flwrstqr]

✧ BAD IDEA : WHEN THEY'RE YOUR HOT NERD BOYFRIEND ╰—— 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖻𝗈𝗒, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅, 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗂 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖻𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌?

𝑜𝑓 · 𝖲𝖧𝖮𝖶𝓉𝖨𝖬𝖤 ⦂ loser bf!enhypen x f!r 1OOOwc. ── est relationship, skinship, petnames, enha being such losers TT ｡｡ ⠀fluff ✦ 𝓒ATALOGUE ♡ ◞

 DANi : i know i did loser bf enhypen hyung line before.. but i guess this is a remake of it ㅠㅠ

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚 heeseung’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, headset slightly askew, eyes glued to his monitor as he furiously clicks his mouse. “babe, just one more round—promise,” he mumbles, though you know it’s a lie. his hair’s a mess, the strands you’d combed earlier now falling into his eyes, and he’s wearing that stupid hoodie he refuses to retire. he flinches when you plop into his lap, arms draped lazily around his shoulders. “i’m playing!” he protests, cheeks flushing as you press a kiss to his jawline. “you’re losing,” you tease, watching his avatar get obliterated on-screen. he groans, leaning back against you, headset falling off entirely. “this is sabotage, yn.” you grin, peppering his face with kisses until he’s a flustered mess, stammering something about focus. “i’ll stop... if you win,” you add, knowing full well he doesn’t stand a chance. he’s so helplessly cute, your hot loser boyfriend.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚 jay leans against the kitchen counter, half-eating an apple and half-staring at you like you’re the only thing keeping him alive, and it’s so stupidly obvious he’s down bad. “you look tired,” he mumbles, eyes flickering to the dark circles under your eyes, but his ears turn pink when you catch him staring. “come here, idiot,” you say, tugging his hoodie sleeve to pull him closer. he obeys instantly, like the certified no-rizz loser boyfriend he is, dropping the apple to wrap his arms around your waist in an awkward position. you rest your forehead against his chest, his warmth wrapping around you like a blanket. “you smell like apples,” you mumble. “is that bad?” he asks softly, voice almost shy. “no,” you say, tilting your chin up, “but i like this better.” and then you kiss him, while his hands tighten on your waist like he can’t believe you’re real.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡 jake is sprawled across your couch, one sock half-off, looking entirely too attractive for someone who just tripped over your laundry basket five minutes ago. “hey, my sugar plum boo,” he says out of nowhere, grinning like he’s invented a new way to embarrass himself. you blink at him, halfway between horrified and amused. “your what?” he flinches, already regretting it but trying to play it cool. “sugar plum boo? thought I’d try something new.” you stare for a moment before bursting into laughter, and he groans, dragging a hand down his face. “okay, yeah, terrible idea. forget I said that.” but you’re already climbing into his lap, cupping his face, his ears burning red as you kiss the corner of his mouth. “you’re lucky you’re cute,” you tease. “just stick to ‘baby’ okay?” he nods, pulling you closer, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “noted, baby.”

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡 sunghoon stands in your doorway, holding up a pair of matching t-shirts with the goofiest grin, like he just solved world peace. “ta-da! couple goals, right?” he says, clearly proud of himself. the shirts say something ridiculous like “she’s my waffle” and “he’s my syrup” and you just stand there, blinking. “hoon,” you start, already fighting a smile, “are you serious?” he fidgets, running a hand through his ridiculously perfect hair, and somehow he’s both a greek god and a total loser at the same time. “what? i thought it’d be cute…” he mumbles, looking down. you sigh, walking up to him, and his shoulders relax the second you slip your arms around his waist. “you’re unbelievable,” you murmur, tilting up to kiss him. his hands find your back, warm and steady. “so… no keychains, then?” he asks, trying not to smile, and you can’t help but laugh against his lips.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢 sunoo’s hand is warm in yours as you walk through the mall, his lips pursed in concentration as he scans the signs. “baby, wait—wait, they have the new plushies!” he gasps, dragging you toward the toy store. people are staring again, because of course they are—he’s ridiculously pretty, and his blonde hair catches the light. you can’t help but smile at how oblivious he is to the attention, too busy squishing a stuffed bear against his cheek. “doesn’t this look like you?” he grins, holding it up, and you laugh, tugging him closer by the collar of his oversized sweater. “you’re cuter,” you murmur, and his ears turn red. “stop that,” he whines, but he leans in anyway when you kiss him softly, his hand shyly cupping your jaw. “you’re unfair,” he mumbles, pouting, but he doesn’t pull away.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡 it’s 2 a.m., and jungwon’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, reading glasses perched on his nose, hair slightly messy from running his hands through it every time he gets excited. “did you know cats have a special purr that’s called a ‘solicitation purr’? it’s how they get humans to do what they want—it’s genius,” he’s been at this for over an hour, flipping through articles on his phone and gesturing dramatically. you’re curled up beside him, head resting on his shoulder, watching his lips move more than you’re actually listening, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “look, their whiskers even tell them how wide a space is—how cool is that?” he says, eyes sparkling. you lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, cutting him off mid-sentence. “you’re cooler and cuter,” you whisper, and his face goes red as he mumbled, “stop—you’re distracting me,” but he doesn’t move away.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜 riki sits across from you at the diner, wearing that ridiculous shirt that says “I paused my game to be here” like it’s peak humor, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the side of his hand. his hair’s all messy, and he keeps fidgeting with his fries, stacking them like tiny Jenga pieces. “stop staring,” he mumbles, his ears turning red, but he doesn’t look up, knowing full well you’re doing it to fluster him. “why would i stop looking at my baby?” you tease, leaning over the table just enough to poke his cheek. he freezes, then scowls (a weak attempt, really). “you’re insufferable.” but when you press a quick kiss to his jaw, he melts instantly, leaning into it like the softie he is. “i hate you,” he mutters again, but his hand finds yours under the table, lacing your fingers together, and it’s all too obvious he’s lying.

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐞—𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Biker AU, Stray Kids one shot

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

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

Minors do not interact!!!

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

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

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

Word count: 5.6k

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

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

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

Christopher Bang Chan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's out of the question.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah you were pretty much obsessed.

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

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

Oh fuck—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart sank slightly. Was he even here tonight?

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

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

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

Three... Two... One—

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

Is it him?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart pounded in your ears.

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

And there he was. Bang Chan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

Oh you were holding on that bad. 

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

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

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

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

Boy you were wrong. He was anything but gentle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I'm gonna come— I'm—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I guess I’ll see you there, then.”

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

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

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

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

Thank you for reading!

xx,

Ivyy

[robo-writing]

So that idea you had with 70s Logan being selfish while eating you out... could we get an expansion?

*cracks knuckles* let’s get into it

Logan loves pussy, short and sweet. His problem is that he loves it a little too much.

It makes for a great time with whatever lucky lady he’s got in his bed (or the couch. Or the kitchen.) but it also means that it’s going to be quite a while before he tires himself, if that even happens. Where his younger self differs is that he’s firmly rooted in his “I don’t need meaningful relationships” attitude so if he’s bringing someone to bed, it’s for one thing and one thing only.

He’s got an urge to satisfy, and you just so happened to be the nearest thing around.

That isn’t to say he’s a total asshole; he tells you up front not to expect anything more than what he’s offering, and if you don’t take his advice? That’s all on you. His deal is a simple one, take it or leave it.

Now, assuming you accept, you’ll be happy to know that he can talk the talk and walk the walk—that is to say, he’ll have your legs shaking within the first five minutes guaranteed. Something about his enthusiasm is half the show, the other half is how adamant he is about keeping his lips glued to your pussy.

Over and over again you cum—your weeping cunt crying out against his fingers, his smug grin as you beg him for a break—only to be met with the sounds of his tongue flicking at your clit. Your hands tug at his hair, begging him to stop, trying your damndest to wiggle free from his iron hold but he doesn’t budge in the slightest. If anything at all your movement just annoys him further, and in turn, makes him take out his anger on your sensitive cunt.

“Stop fucking movin’” he muffles against your sex, but it’s easier said than done. Even when you slap against his arms he doesn’t flinch, instead opting to glare at you from below while his fingers scissor you open.

“Stop being fuckin’ difficult—“ he starts, growling out when tears start streaming down your face. It’s immediately met with a slap to your puffy cunt, the shock of it sending you reeling forward.“Don’t whine, you asked for this.”

You want to argue, tell him you asked for a one night stand and not a torture session—unfortunately for you, your brain cells leak from your ears every time his beard scratches between your thighs.

And then, somewhere between the long-drawn out agony of your nerves being lit on fire is the smallest ember of pleasure. An echo, and then a roar, a spark that turns into a roaring fire and then something just clicks.

All of a sudden you’re going from stop, Logan, I can’t to yes, more, please between what little semblance of sanity you can muster.

The sudden change in attitude makes him grin. “Told you you’d enjoy yourself.”

[theonottsbxtch]

MISS YOU BABY | MV1

an: i need a hug from max verstappen stat, based off this request! thank you for sending it :)

summary: max thought his girlfriend was missing his final race during his triple header, little did he know she'd planned to come and visit all along.

wc 3.6k

The hotel room she was in was quiet.

She sat cross-legged on the bed in a dark hotel room that mirrored his, only three floors below, making sure he couldn’t see her surroundings. Her phone was propped up against a pillow, and Max’s face filled the screen, his hair still damp from the shower, tousled and messy. He looked worn-out but managed a small, tired smile just for her.

"I’m sorry, Max. I really tried to get time off, but there was just… no way," she said, the fib slipping from her lips with surprising ease. "I wanted to be there with you. Especially now."

Max exhaled, leaning back against his headboard. “I know. It’s alright.” His voice softened. “I just miss you, is all. It’s been a rough couple of weeks.”

She nodded, biting the inside of her cheek, wishing she could reach through the screen and wrap her arms around him. "You’ll get through it, though. You always do."

"Doesn’t feel that way." He laughed, but it was brittle around the edges. “I feel like I’m letting everyone down. The team, the fans… you.” His eyes searched the screen, as if he might find a solution hidden somewhere in her gaze.

"Never me." She leaned closer, her face so near to the camera that she could see her reflection in his eyes. "I’m so proud of you, Max. Always. No matter what."

For a moment, he just looked at her, his expression softening, and the tension she’d seen in his face for days seemed to melt, just a little. "I wish you were here," he murmured. "I swear, you’re the only thing that keeps me sane sometimes."

She swallowed, feeling her heart pull toward him with a force that was hard to resist. "Soon, I’ll be back with you. Just… hold on a bit longer, okay?”

She gazed at his face on the screen, her heart swelling as she watched the way his eyes softened every time he looked at her. She knew he was tired and worn down, but in this moment, he looked at peace.

"I love you, Max," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

He closed his eyes, letting the words wash over him, and when he opened them again, there was a warmth there that seemed to cut through the miles between them. "I love you, too," he replied, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "More than you know."

She tucked her hair behind her ear, feeling her cheeks flush, and nodded. "Get some sleep, alright? Big day tomorrow."

He grinned. "Yeah, yeah. You, too. Dream about me, okay?"

She laughed, rolling her eyes, but her heart skipped all the same. "Always. Goodnight, Max."

"Goodnight, love."

With a final smile, she ended the call, letting the screen go dark as she leaned back into the pillows, her heart fluttering with anticipation. She’d hardly been able to sleep on the plane ride here, and she could already tell tonight would be the same.

Still, the thought of finally seeing him in person tomorrow kept her too giddy to care. She’d surprise him at the track, slipping through the garage just as he arrived, or maybe even at breakfast if she could manage it without spoiling the surprise. Her mind spun with ideas, each more elaborate than the last, but all she really wanted was to see his face light up when he realised she was there.

Pulling the covers up to her chin, she let her eyes drift closed, replaying the moment over and over in her mind, savouring the thought of his reaction. She loved him fiercely, and she knew that being here—no matter how much of a secret she’d had to make it—was exactly where she was supposed to be.

As she finally began to drift off, her last thought was simple but bright, shining like a promise: Tomorrow, he’ll know.

And while she was glad she held onto the secret.

The following morning she wished she’d told him earlier.

She woke to the faint glow of her phone on the nightstand, her morning alarm. Blinking herself awake, she squinted at the screen and saw Max’s name, followed by the time—5:02 a.m.

Heading to the track early today. Miss you already, wish you were here.

She smiled, feeling that familiar warmth spreading through her chest. But then her heart sank a little. She’d been hoping to catch him in the hotel this morning, maybe surprise him over breakfast. Now, with him already gone, she'd have to adjust her plans.

Throwing back the covers, she got up and went to the window. Rain streaked down the glass in thick, heavy drops, and the sky was a murky grey. The weather was only supposed to get worse throughout the day; she knew that’d make things complicated, especially for an outdoor track. She had no clue if her surprise would even be worth the stress of navigating the drenched, crowded paddock.

After a moment’s hesitation, she tapped her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she reached the name she wanted. She dialled, and after a few rings, Max’s assistant, Sophie, picked up.

“Hey!” Sophie greeted, sounding pleasantly surprised. “What’s up? Did you make it in?”

“Yes, I’m here!” she whispered, unable to contain her excitement. “I wanted to surprise him before he heads out on track, but with this rain… do you think I should even bother?”

Sophie sighed sympathetically. “Honestly, it’s a mess out here. They’re saying the rain’s going to be even heavier by the time qualifying starts. He’ll be in back-to-back meetings until then, and I’d hate for you to sit in the rain, just to get a few minutes with him.”

She nodded, glancing out the window at the sheets of rain. “So you think I should wait?”

“I’d say hold off until right before the race,” Sophie replied. “He’ll have a short break, and I think he’d love the surprise then. Plus, everyone’s less frantic between qualifying and race prep.”

“Good point,” she agreed, a little disappointed but knowing Sophie was right. The track on a rainy race day was chaos, and if she could avoid it until the right moment, she’d have a better chance of actually spending time with him. “Thanks, Sophie. Let me know if anything changes?”

“Will do! He’ll be so happy to see you,” Sophie said warmly. “Hang tight, okay?”

As she hung up, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement, knowing the surprise would be even more perfect with the wait. So she ordered herself a coffee, sat by the window, and watched the rain pour down, imagining the look on Max’s face when he’d finally see her just before the most important race of the weekend.

The rain hadn’t let up by the time she arrived at the track, the skies dark and moody, the air thick with humidity. She’d navigated her way through security and weaving lines of drenched fans, her heart racing as she got closer to Max’s garage. But by the time she finally made it, he was already in the car, helmet on, visor down, his focus entirely on the track ahead.

Her heart sank a little as she scanned the bustling garage, hoping for some last chance to catch his eye. But he was already strapped in, a crew member leaning in to give him a final check before he rolled out. She spotted Sophie in the corner, scribbling something down on a clipboard, and made her way over to her.

“Hey,” she whispered, feeling the dampness of the rain still clinging to her hair and clothes. “I… I just missed him, didn’t I?”

Sophie looked up and gave her a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, he was swamped the moment he got here. They barely had time to get him settled with all the delays.” She gestured to the grid display above them, where Max’s name glowed beside the stark “P17” position. “Rough start, but he’ll be glad to know you’re here.”

She nodded, feeling a pang as she glanced at his car just as it rumbled to life. His fingers flexed on the steering wheel, even from a distance she could see the tension there. She let out a breath, feeling a swell of pride and worry all at once. “Well, I’ll be here watching, then.”

Sophie handed her a headset, which she slipped on just in time to hear his engineer’s voice crackle through with the first instructions as they prepared for the start. The rain was relentless, turning the track into a slick, treacherous maze, and she felt her stomach twist as the cars peeled out onto the track for the formation lap. Max’s car trailed near the back, but she knew he’d fight, as he always did, with a ferocity she both admired and feared in moments like this.

The race began, a chaotic blur of spray and metal, the cars kicking up rooster tails of water, visibility nearly zero as they fought for position. She gripped the edge of her seat as the laps ticked by, heart pounding with every close call. It quickly became clear that the conditions were only worsening, drivers struggling to keep their cars on track, a few even skidding off into barriers with loud, bone-jarring crashes. Her hands tightened around the headset as Max navigate his way forward, battling his way to P10, then P6.

And then, just when the tension seemed to reach its peak, there was a deafening crash, followed by a sudden hush as the red flag went up, halting the race.

Her breath caught in her throat. The screen above replayed the incident—a skidding into the barrier that had caused an emergency stop. The seconds felt like hours as she waited, desperately searching for a glimpse of his car on the feed. Finally, there it was, intact, safe. Relief flooded her, and she felt her shoulders sag.

The race restarted after the delay, and she watched in awe as Max took advantage of the reshuffled positions and tire changes, surging forward with a newfound intensity. Lap by lap, he clawed his way through the field, passing car after car with a precision that made her heart race. It was as if he’d transformed, harnessing every ounce of his frustration from the last few races, channelling it into something extraordinary.

The garage erupted in cheers as he moved into P3, then P1. She stared at the screen, hardly daring to blink, her heart racing as he crossed the finish line in first place, drenched in rain and glory.

She could hardly believe it. From P17 to P1. He’d done it.

Forgetting herself, she laughed, a sound of pure joy, her heart swelling as she watched him slow down, the victory finally sinking in. She couldn't wait to see his face when he finally realised she was here, to be the first person he’d see when he stepped out of that car, soaked and grinning, finally at the top.

Ripping her headset off, she followed the crew as they ran out to parc fermé, her heart racing as fast as the roar of the crowd. The team, buzzing with excitement, parted slightly as she joined them, nudging her to the front so she’d be the first face he saw. She could barely breathe as she caught sight of Max’s car, now still, the rain glistening on its blue-and-red bodywork.

With all the force he had he climbed out, pulling off his helmet to reveal damp, messy hair and a face lit up with exhilaration and disbelief. For a moment, he simply stood there, taking in the shouts of the crowd and the blinding flashes of cameras. And then, his gaze landed on her.

His eyes widened, his exhaustion and surprise giving way to pure joy. Without hesitation, he broke into a run, crossing the slick tarmac with the kind of speed and determination that made her heart leap. She barely had a second to react before he wrapped her in his arms, his lips crashing against hers as he pulled her close, his hands pressed firmly against her back, as if he still couldn’t believe she was real.

“You came,” he murmured breathlessly, pulling back just enough to look at her, his face filled with awe and happiness.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” she replied, her voice trembling with emotion, brushing a wet strand of hair from his face.

He smiled, a bright, unguarded smile that melted her heart. “God, I needed this. I needed you.”

And then he kissed her again, a kiss filled with all the missed moments and the words they hadn’t been able to say, the thrill of his victory mingling with the fierce love they shared. She felt the rain soak through her clothes, the crowd and the noise around them fading as they held each other, his arms wrapping around her as if he could protect her from the rest of the world.

“I still can’t believe it,” he whispered against her lips, his forehead resting against hers, his hand gently brushing her cheek. “P1. And you’re here.”

She laughed softly, her eyes shining. “You deserve it, Max. I knew you could do it.”

He held her close, a triumphant laugh bubbling from his chest as he buried his face in her neck, and they stood there in the pouring rain, lost in each other, savouring the victory and this long-awaited moment they both knew they’d never forget.

As the noise of the cheering crew and fans started to swell around them, Max pulled back slightly, brushing his thumb across her cheek, his gaze lingering on her face as if he was trying to commit every detail to memory.

“I have to go,” he said softly, his voice tinged with regret. “The interviews, cool-down room, podium… but wait for me? I’ll meet you in my driver’s room as soon as I can.”

She nodded, understanding but already missing the warmth of his arms. “I’ll be waiting. Go,” she whispered, giving him a small smile. “Enjoy every second—you deserve it.”

He pressed one last, lingering kiss to her forehead, then turned and jogged off to join the waiting crew, helmet in hand, while she stayed rooted to her spot, watching him disappear into the crowd. Her heart swelled with pride as she trailed after the team to watch his interviews, his beaming, breathless face glowing with pride and energy as he spoke about the gruelling conditions and the unbelievable climb from P17 to P1.

Then came the cool-down room, where she watched from the sidelines as he bantered with the other drivers, sharing exhausted smiles and congratulatory claps on the back, the weight of his achievement settling in as he finally let himself relax a little. She couldn’t help but smile, feeling as though she could burst with joy just watching him, his eyes sparking with energy even as he looked ready to collapse from exhaustion.

And finally, the podium. She felt the crowd’s excitement echo through her as she looked up to see him standing tall, drenched from head to toe, a bottle of champagne in hand. When he raised it in victory, the crowd erupted, and she joined them, cheering at the top of her lungs as he sprayed champagne with abandon, laughing as he celebrated with the other drivers. His eyes swept over the crowd, and when they found hers, he gave a subtle nod, a silent promise that he’d be back with her soon.

After the podium, she made her way to his driver’s room, her heart fluttering as she paced the small space, the thrill of the day lingering in every fibre of her being. And then, finally, the door swung open, and there he was.

He looked completely worn out, his hair still damp and messy, his fireproof undersuit clinging to his skin. But his smile was bright, and his eyes lit up the moment he saw her.

Without a word, he crossed the room, pulling her into his arms, his lips finding hers in a soft, exhausted kiss. She melted into him, her arms wrapping around his neck as he held her close, the adrenaline and joy from his victory radiating between them.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy,” he whispered against her ear, his voice low and hoarse. “Winning today… and having you here with me. It’s everything.”

She brushed a strand of damp hair from his face, smiling as she traced her fingers along his cheek. “You did it, Max. I’m so proud of you.”

He took her hand, pressing it to his heart, his eyes never leaving hers. “None of it would mean anything without you,” he said quietly, his voice steady.

She felt her eyes sting with tears, overwhelmed by the depth of his words. “I’m here,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ll always be here.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world slipping away. He stroked her hair, pressing gentle kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, her lips, as if savouring each moment.

“Let’s get out of here,” he finally murmured, his voice warm and soft, “celebrate somewhere a little less chaotic.”

She laughed, nodding. “Anywhere, as long as it’s with you.”

They headed back to his hotel, hand in hand, a peaceful quiet settling over them as they left the track behind. Once in the privacy of his suite, he gave her a lingering kiss, then smiled, nodding toward the bathroom. “Give me a few minutes to wash off all the champagne and… probably half the track dust,” he said with a laugh.

She grinned, watching as he disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the suite a moment later. While he showered, she took the opportunity to pack up her things from her own room, gathering her scattered belongings quickly. The thrill of being close, of finally sharing a space for the night, filled her with a warmth that had nothing to do with the tropical heat outside.

By the time she returned, he was out of the shower, towelling off his damp hair, his expression softening as he took in the sight of her standing there with her things. Without a word, he crossed the room and took her bags from her hands, setting them by the closet as he gave her a smile that made her heart skip.

Once they’d both changed into fresh clothes—she’d opted for a simple dress, and he in casual jeans and a loose shirt—they slipped out of the hotel through a side exit, making their way to a tiny, tucked-away Brazilian restaurant that had been recommended. The place was hidden, small enough to be missed by the crowds, with soft, low lighting that created an intimate, cosy atmosphere. A few locals lingered around tables, but they paid little attention to the couple as they took a corner table in the back.

They ordered caipirinhas and he reached across the table to hold her hand, his fingers tracing gentle circles on her skin as they laughed over silly little things, shared stories from the past few weeks, and spoke of things beyond racing, beyond work, just slipping back into the easy flow they always shared. The food was rich and delicious—small plates of feijoada, grilled meats, and pão de queijo—everything flavorful and homey.

He leaned across the table, his eyes warm and filled with that familiar spark, as he watched her speak, clearly savouring every moment. “You know,” he said softly, “I think this is the best victory celebration I’ve ever had.”

She squeezed his hand, smiling back at him. “Same here. I missed just… being with you like this.”

They stayed until the restaurant closed, lingering over the last bites of dessert, letting the night stretch out as long as possible. Eventually, they headed back to the hotel, the city streets now quiet and still beneath the soft hum of streetlights.

Once back in his room, Max changed into a pair of soft pyjama bottoms, leaving his chest bare, his skin still warm from the shower. She slipped into one of his t-shirts, the fabric soft and oversized, the scent of him comforting and familiar. When she stepped out the bathroom, he was already waiting for her by the bed, his gaze softening as he took her in, a gentle smile curving on his lips.

Without a word, he reached for her, lacing his fingers through hers as he pulled her close, guiding her to the bed. She sank into the mattress beside him, and he wrapped an arm around her, drawing her against his chest, his fingertips trailing absently over her shoulder. She nestled into him, feeling his warmth seep through her, a cosy silence wrapping around them.

They lay there, tangled together, her head tucked beneath his chin as he gently traced circles on her back, his breath even and steady. He tilted her chin up, his eyes searching hers for a quiet moment before he leaned down, capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss, filled with a tenderness that said everything words couldn’t. She kissed him back just as gently, savouring the intimacy of being close like this, the world beyond these walls feeling miles away.

When the kiss ended, he pressed his forehead to hers, a soft sigh escaping as he held her close, one hand settling over hers, fingers intertwined. They stayed that way, her head resting against his heartbeat, lulled by the steady rhythm.

Finally, they drifted off, still tangled in each other’s arms, wrapped up in the warmth and comfort of just being together. As the night settled around them, Max couldn’t help but smile, holding her a little closer as he slipped into sleep, his heart full and light.

Max couldn’t have wished for a better weekend.

the end.

[narxcisse]

★ — Hold Me, Console Me

Pairing: Jayce Talis x GN!Reader

CW: fluff, Jayce is a golden retriever (and definitely a lapdog), takes place in s1

English isn't my native language

Jayce was a beacon of light and energy for Piltover—a symbol of innovation, hope, and determination. But even the "Golden Boy" had his moments of exhaustion.

After a particularly grueling day of council meetings, overseeing Hextech developments, and dodging endless waves of criticism, Jayce found himself craving something simple and unassuming: solace.

He trudged through the place he shared with you, his boots heavy on the floor, his shoulders slumped. The weight of Piltover’s expectations had pressed into him all day, and he couldn’t shake it off. He barely managed a grunt of greeting as he walked in, his honey-brown eyes dull and tired.

You were curled up on the couch with a book, but the moment you saw him, you closed it without hesitation.

"Jayce?" you asked gently, concern lacing your voice.

His lips quirked up in a weary smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Just tired."

You scooted over on the couch, patting your lap invitingly. "Come here."

His head tilted like a curious puppy’s, and his eyes lit up ever so slightly. "Really?"

"Really," you said with a soft chuckle.

That was all the encouragement he needed. Jayce immediately kicked off his boots and collapsed onto the couch, resting his head in your lap with an audible sigh of relief. His broad frame barely fit on the couch, but he didn’t care—he melted against you like molten gold, his arm draping across your legs possessively.

"You’re warm," he murmured, his voice muffled by your shirt.

"You’re heavy," you teased, running your fingers through his thick, caramel-colored hair.

"Not too heavy, right?" His words had a hint of playfulness, but there was an undercurrent of vulnerability in them.

"Not at all," you assured him. "You’re perfect right where you are."

Jayce hummed contentedly, his eyes fluttering closed as your fingers worked their magic. You gently massaged his scalp, trailing your fingertips down to his temples and back again. It didn’t take long for his tense shoulders to relax, the strain of the day slowly melting away.

"You know," you said after a moment, "you really do remind me of a golden retriever sometimes."

His eyes snapped open, and he looked up at you, mock-offended. "Golden retriever?!"

"Yeah," you said, laughing softly. "All big and lovable and eager to please. Plus, you’ve got that golden-boy glow about you."

Jayce groaned but couldn’t hide the grin tugging at his lips. "Great. Now I’m Piltover’s mascot and your lapdog."

"Hey, don’t knock it," you said, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. "You make a very good lapdog."

He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through your legs. "Guess I’ll take it, as long as I get to stay here."

"As long as you need," you promised.

Jayce stayed there for hours, nestled in your lap, letting your touch and presence restore him in ways nothing else could. For Piltover, he might always be the Golden Boy, but for you, he was simply Jayce—the man who loved you, and sometimes, the man who just needed to be held.

[tojisun]

something about best friend simon not knowing any boundaries (or, deliberately bulldozing through boundaries)—

the way he’s the one who picks you up in the airport even though you and your boyfriend already made arrangements for the pick up, but simon just says he offered to take over because your parents needed help setting things up in their lake house and that your boyfriend offered to help them.

(simon made him offer to help. it’s hidden so well behind honest concern that your boyfriend didn’t notice that simon’s been pushing him into the role until simon's calling out his goodbye's, saying he's off to pick you up now.

"oh, i can-"

"don't sweat it, mate," simon replies with a pinched smile. "i'll drive carefully, promise. bring her back, all safe and lovely.")

you didn’t even know simon’s invited to the vacation, but you gladly murmured to him your thanks, too caught up in your exhaustion to notice the little mean grin that tugged his lips up.

you clamber to his rover messily, blinking slowly, and before you can reach over to buckle your seatbelt, simon leans over and does it for you.

"could've done it myself, y'know?" you whine.

"sure you can," he grunts as he pulls himself back to his seat. "not like y'were one blown wind away from keeling over, but sure."

you roll your eyes at him playfully before biting a giggle when he scrunches his nose at you in reply.

he takes the long route back.

"want anythin' to eat?" simon asks after a while.

"don't we—" you pause, yawning. "need to hurry back?"

"not really," he replies, eyes flicking to the side mirror before he rounds a sharp curve. your body jostles, falling to the side, slipping towards the gear, and simon's hand falls to your lap to steady you.

he doesn't remove it even when the road straightens.

"okay," you finally reply, tired eyes blinking at the size of his hand on your leg. "m'kinda hungry."

he huffs a fond laugh and says he knows a place close by.

it's a local burger joint, apparently known for their fries and milkshake. simon buys you one.

"aww," you croon, grabby hands pulling the cold cup closer to you. "thank you, si."

you two eat in his rover, too lazy to actually settle in the diner.

it's greasy and messy and delicious. simon says you look filthy, before reaching over to wipe the stray milkshake on the corner of your lips. you poke your tongue out to him in reply; he says to swallow that back in before he yanks it out.

you laugh, chucking a balled-up napkin towards him before jumping out of his SUV to run to the bathroom.

(you didn't notice the throngs of messages coming in from your boyfriend nor the way simon swiped your phone from your back pocket and kept it.

he remembers your passcode—still unchanged even after all these years—and reads the messages that your boyfriend sent.

he's asking if you've landed or if you and simon are on your way back. he says he also misses you dearly, and that he can't wait to finally be with you again.

simon deletes them all.)

the two of you return when it’s well into the night, and everyone's gone to sleep. you sigh, feeling the exhaustion hitting you harder now, and amble to your room where you know your boyfriend must be waiting for you, only to stop when simon holds your arm.

"wanna sleep with me?"

"what," you begin, turning your sleepy eyes up at him. "no that's alright. my boyfriend's—"

"asleep, already. probably got ordered 'round by your pa, huh?" he smiles, his thumb swiping along the side of your forearm. "y'might wake up the poor lad if you go there so why don't you sleep in my room just for tonight?"

simon's words wash over you and you know, somehow, there's something wrong with them, with him, but your mind is bogged down by your drowsiness. you can't rationalize what's going on, so you say yes.

that's all simon needed to pull you to his room and into his bed.

you slip out of your clothes, per simon's instructions—his words all muffled as you try to stay up awake—and slip into something loose and baggy—stretched in its overuse but so comfortable on your skin.

it's simon's shirt, you'll learn tomorrow, but for now, you drop to the bed, your eyes shut close, and fall in deep sleep.

the last thing you feel is the heavy dip on the mattress behind you before a thick arm is thrown over your side, pressing into the fat of your stomach to push you back and into simon's front.

limbs lay tangled together, breaths shared, and the summer heat buzzing as skin meets skin.

-

simon doesn't get any better after that. he gets so clingy, and intrudes in your space and forces your boyfriend out.

your boyfriend complained, of course he did, but what could you do? what could you say? simon's your childhood friend so there's nothing malicious between you two. there's nothing more into it.

he gave up fighting then, fists tucked close to his sides as you kissed his jaw and told him to trust you on your words.

but—

how can he calm down? how can he not burn in anger when he sees the way simon pulls you to his lap and you readily nuzzle close. granted it's all because the two of you are watching some game on your phone and the position must be the only way to watch it comfortably, whatever, but it rubs him so wrong how familiar you and simon fall into each other.

how can he not doubt your words when he catches simon's eyes narrowed at him in quiet delight, before deliberately curling his arm around your stomach, and throws the other one on your lap, so dangerously close to your crotch.

it's even worse when the family gathers to the lake, and you and simon are chasing each other, playfighting in front of everyone. simon picks you up with ease, big hands digging into the fat of your belly or your thighs or gripping your ass like simon's so intimately familiar with your body.

how can he not hate himself a little bit when he realizes that it was always you and simon. that that's the dynamic.

-

(and if simon successfully seduces you during this vacation, well—)

-

ext