#Morning Warm Up Exercise | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

trashytracktales · 13 days ago

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Hiii, I’m not sure if your requests are open, but if they are, could you write something with Lando and Reader where they have been dating for just a few weeks, haven’t had sex yet. One day they’re working out together at Lando’s house in Monaco (the room with the mirror from the video I Ate and Trained Like Lando Norris for 24 hours). Reader is doing squats with her back towards the mirror and Lando can’t help but stare at her ass and he gets hard / flustered so he stops from doing his exercise and reader asks him what’s wrong and before he answers she realises he’s horny so she teases him - this time on purpose- and then they fuck in that room on the floor

In the heat of it | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you for trusting me enough to bring this to life, it was... something 🥵

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𐙚 summary ──── They've been dating for a few weeks now, but the time was never right for them to get intimate. During a playful workout together, Lando gets caught staring, sparking a moment that leaves them both realizing just how deep their connection actually goes.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, fluff & smut, explicit language, unprotected sex, swearing, established relationship, suggestive/flirty behavior. MDNI!

𐙚 word count ──── 3.6k

𐙚 date ──── Nov. 12, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── Enjoy watching Lando learn that some cardio sessions have unexpected side effects 🤍🎀

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IT DOESN’T TAKE long before Lando starts to regret his decision. It would have been much easier to invite his girlfriend to have lunch together. That would have saved him from a constant dry mouth and irregular heartbeat every time he feels her eyes accidentally landing on him.

The smooth floor and sophisticated equipment in his personal gym are softly bathed in the morning sun that seeps through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Monaco's streets are still peaceful at this hour, considering it's the middle of the week, and the port is sparkling in the sunlight.

The room usually has a subtle scent of cedar and rubber, fresh and energized, but now it carries a sweet honey scent, borrowed from her presence.

They are already halfway through their warm-up. She’s pulling a resistance band around her thighs, stretching before they dive into the heavier part of their routine, her focus completely on the exercises he’s walked her through. But, of course, a huge part of her focuses on how Lando touches her, purposely, to guide her when her posture doesn't match the exercise.

Even in simple gym shorts and a T-shirt, Lando somehow manages to look so effortlessly attractive — curly hair a little messy, face flushed just enough from their recent sets, and his labored breathing after putting in the effort. He’s all energy, fluid in his movements, though he's clearly trying to keep his pace casual.

“Lookin’ strong,” he teases, flashing a grin as she adjusts her stance.

The girl shrugs, “I’m just that good at following instructions. Although, I think having one of the best trainers in the area helps, too.”

Lando lets a chuckle out, “I won't go easy on you just because you kiss-ass. But it’s cute to see you trying.”

Even though they have only been dating for a few weeks, there is an undeniable spark between them two, especially in a setting where every glance and skin-to-skin contact feels amplified by the intensity of their exercises. Her sports outfit leaves no room for interpretations, hugging her curves and defining her lines, and Lando's imagination is stimulated every time he turns his gaze towards her.

He’s now down on the floor, holding a plank, his core engaged and muscles taut as he fights to hold his body up and spine straight. She’s supposed to be timing him, but the second he shoots her a cheeky grin, she decides she can’t resist a bit of fun; in her defense, he started it. With a simple touch, the seconds freeze on the screen of his phone, then she places it on one of the boxes stored in the corner of the room.

“Hi there,” says the girl in a soft tone once she sits down in front of him just inches apart, propping herself up on her elbows so her face is level with his.

Lando raises his eyebrows, trying not to laugh as his shoulders shake slightly from the effort of holding his body weight. “Don’t,” he warns her, breath coming in controlled puffs.

“I’m not doing anything,” she smiles innocently, kicking her feet in the air while inching a little closer until her nose almost brushes his.

He laughs at her bad acting, his arms starting to shake a bit more. “Outrageous is what you are.”

She pouts just as Lando dips his head down, managing to steal a playful kiss. Their lips meet briefly, soft and warm, before he pulls back up to maintain his form. It makes her sigh in frustration, the ghost of a kiss not nearly enough for her. If anything, it only leaves her wanting more.

Luckily, he doesn’t pull back when she cups his cheek in her palm, pressing her mouth on his once more, his giggles mixing with hers as he tries to keep his balance. Savoring the feel of his lips and the way Lando grunts softly into the kiss, she can feel that this one is more deeper and slower — much real — making her shiver. It seems as though everything else disappears, the feel of each other reminding them both why they decided to give the relationship a shot in the first place.

“And you are so fun to corrupt,” she admits, finally getting up to give Lando time to recover.

After a few sets, she finally moves on to squats, and Lando follows her positioning herself in front of the mirror. It wasn't even supposed to be there, but he sometimes uses the gym as a storage room for random packages. This one, specifically, came in the mail a few weeks ago and he didn't have time to hang it in the hallway, where he initially planned. So, he simply let it rest against the wall in his gym room, and it's been there ever since. Forgotten.

Giving the circumstances, he is seriously thinking of leaving it there for good.

Conveniently, Lando decides that now is the perfect time to start his Russian twists, so he bends over to collect a dumbbell off the floor, then sits down on the yoga mat. Right in front of her.

Unaware of the effect she's having on him, he watches her go through each squat with his eyes trailing down on the reflection of her ass in the mirror, an intense warmth spreading over him as he tries to focus on his own exercise. It is quite innocent — he's just respectfully looking — until it isn't. Until he feels it in his boxers. Until he almost drops the dumbbell, which catches her attention.

Lando tries to ignore it, though, to nonchallantly brush it off, telling himself that it's natural and that he's just admiring her physical appearance. Anyone in his shoes would do it. However, his thoughts start to wander, images flashing uninvited as his heart rate quickens for reasons far beyond the exercise.

“Are you okay down there, hotshot? What are you fighting?” she asks curiously, raising her head just enough to catch the dazed look on Lando’s face.

Her voice pulls him back, his breath catching for a moment, “Yeah, never better.”

It's his husky voice that gives it away. Right after, she notices a lingering gaze, and the soft pink creeping across his features as his eyes are fixed ahead. She stops, fixing her posture and straightening her back as she turns to catch his gaze in the mirror. She realizes exactly what's going on in a matter of seconds, a little grin forming in the corner of her mouth.

“Am I too dictracting, Lando?” she purrs, her question — and the fact that he knows she caught him in act — not helping at all.

“No,” he lies, “But I think you’re killing it with those squats.”

“And if I turn around to finish my set, what then?” she whispers, a challenge glinting in her eyes as she brushes the tip of her tongue against her lower lip.

His breath is shallow the moment he decides to abandon his exercise. “Then you would be killing me,” he admits with no restraints. “So, by any means, proceed. Please.”

She glances over to see Lando lying flat on his back, one arm draped dramatically over his eyes, as if he's in serious pain. His other hand is splayed over his stomach, fingers tapping a nervous rhythm. It’s still funny to see him like that, but then she notices the way his chest rises and falls a bit too fast, and her eyes drift lower, catching a glimpse of the growing bulge in his shorts, an unmistakable proof of what she’s actually doing to him.

Suddenly, all the amusement disappears from her face, being replaced by a warmth that wraps around her neck, and rising to her cheeks. Her heart is slowly starting to race, small impulses between her thighs forcing her to close them together.

Swallowing hard, she crosses the small space to kneel beside him, gently pulling his arm away from his eyes. His lashes flicker open, meeting her gaze with a mix of embarrassment and desire. And so much lust.

“How can I help you?” asks Lando, his voice rougher than usual, trying to keep things light, though the hint of vulnerability shows in his eyes, and it's not that hard to read.

She chuckles nervously, “The question is how can I help you?”

In response, Lando uses the same hand to wrap his fingers around her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. She feels his hand squeezing a little, the other one moving to her waist, hesitating before pulling her completely on top of him, without breaking the kiss. His tongue slips firmly into her mouth, just as it has done so many times before, but now it feels somehow different. Somehow, they both know that the kiss is meant to lead to something much more intense, because there's nothing stopping them anymore.

In the intimacy of his apartment, without interruption, Lando lowers his hands to her waist, rubbing her against him. Slowly. Repeatedly. The pressure forces them to moan in unison — a brief taste of the pleasure they are about to share. His hands then drop lower, roaming over her thighs, then back down to her ass, cupping it in his large palms.

He breaks away just enough to murmur, his voice low and almost reverent, “That enough of an answer?”

“Positive,” she replies, feeling his breath hitch as she shifts on top of him, straddling his hips, her hands splaying over his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her fingertips.

Her lips find his again, sweet and intoxicating, each kiss sending sparks to her core. The new position makes her feel him much more firmly between her legs, taking Lando by surprise when her hand lowers to cover his length, massaging him through the thin material of his shorts.

“Fucking hell,” his lips stutter against hers, while rocking his hips into her touch.

“Yeah…” she agrees, breathing hotly above him, “Did I do this to you?”

Before Lando gets a chance to even think of an answer, she slips her hand under the elastic band of his boxers, taking him in her hand, feeling him in his entirety — deliciously soft skin, warm and ready, and so painfully hard.

It makes her ache for him.

She pumps his cock in her hand a few times, enough for her to feel how he shifts under her. It takes her a lot of self-control to stop herself from taking him in her mouth the second she hears his sweet little panting, her thumb rubbing softly over his swollen tip.

The workout itself had left Lando’s muscles burning, but her touch it’s something else entirely, igniting a heat in him that burns deeper than anything he’s felt before. Five more minutes enjoying the same high and he can give up cardio completely. Guaranteed.

Slowly coming back to his senses, Lando realizes that he has free will, so he slips his hands under her sports bra, palming her hungrily until he feels her nipples hardening under his touch. He breaths heavily as he rolls them between his fingers, managing to make her respond with a soft meowl, her grip on his cock losening.

That's his cue to take the lead, pulling her bra over her head in a quick move, and flipping their bodies over so that now he's hovering above her, eyes filled with need while looking down at her.

“Hi there,” Lando copies her tone from earlier, feeling a little fraction of the power she had over him.

She wants to talk back so badly — one of her sarcastic little comments that she knows he loves — but all she can do is let out a pathetic whimper between her lips when his mouth finds home on her bare breast. At that, Lando feels a shiver running down his spine, looking up at how she closes her eyes in pleasure, arching her back more against his mouth.

“Driving me insane with your pretty ass, baby,” he says, breathing heavily, managing to cover her body in a thin layer of goosebumps, “And your pretty fucking nipples.”

“Lando…” she lets another cry slip out, opening her eyes to look at him.

The image that greets her makes her breath catch in her throat. The way he sucks on her nipple while playing with the other one, and the way he looks up at her through his eyelashes — it’s all too much. She ends up wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him down with her. Then she runs her hands down his back, tugging at the edge of his shirt, tossing the useless material carelessly to the floor before pulling him closer for another kiss.

Mouth to mouth, chest to chest, skin on skin — who says heaven isn't real?

But if that's heaven, then what can she name the feeling she gets the moment his hand slips into her gym shorts and his fingers brush against her soaked entrance? Because it feels way too fucking good — much better than she expected, and certainly much better than her own hand whenever she pictured his face while fingering herself.

Lando starts slowly at first, spreading her wetness around her pussy, then fucking his fingers in and out, while cautiously watching her facial expressions changing. It’s not taking him long before finding that sweet, sweet spot that makes her roll her hips into his hand, desperation painted all over her face.

“Lan… yes,” she starts panting, “That’s—yes, right there.”

He hums proudly, sealing his mouth to hers, while parting her thighs with his knee so he can spread her more in front of him. Feeling herself open to his touch, so easy and wet, he no longer feels self-conscious about the way she's so quickly tunring him boneless under her gaze. He realizes that the feeling is mutual, and it makes him want her even more.

If that's even possible.

The sound of his fingers repeatedly fucking into her is all that anchors her in the present moment, but the second Lando feels her squeezing around them, he stops so he can silently ask for her permission to take the last piece of her clothing off.

She nods in a rush, swallowing the lump in her throat in anticipation.

Every inch of her is now bathed in the soft, golden light streaming through the window. Warm shadows are cast along her curves, the light outlining each delicate contour of her body as though the sun itself is painting her in real time. The image is so powerful yet vulnerable as she stands there, her figure glimmering with an almost unearthly serene confidence. Lando is utterly captivated by how ethereal she looks, like a goddess come to life, the kind he never imagined he would be close enough to even touch, let alone enjoy. He feels like he’s witnessing something sacred, something so incredibly rare, and the awe he feels is mixed with gratitude that she’s here with him, letting him see her in a such perfect lighting.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Lando finally manages to say, hoping that he hasn't started drooling all over her in the meantime. “All of you.”

“Your turn,” she says in a muffled voice, slightly bashful at the way he stares at her like he wants to devour her. Which is not far from the truth.

He agrees that it's a fair request, realizing that the only thing separating them now are his own shorts. Without protesting — because that would be so fucking dumb considering how hard he is — Lando gets rid of them with the speed of a perfect qualifying lap.

Matching the same pace, Lando’s hands slide around her waist, his fingers pressing gently into her hips as he guides them both to the side so they can face the window — or that's what she thought. Confused at first, she's frowning at him, then follows his gaze, lost in the direction of their reflection, understanding immediately what he really wants — a show. A show just for them, in which they can lose themselves together, without limits.

She sighs at the sight of their hot, naked bodies, the way he aligns himself with her, and how he’s finally pushing inside, enough to hear her whimper. She watches as he stands above her, his hands gliding slowly over her sides, up her arms, grounding her in his touch. The image of them together, framed in the soft glow of the room, feels surreal — so intimate and vulnerable in a way that’s completely new for both of them.

Lando pauses, pulling out at her little whimper, then pressing back in, but just the tip.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers, “You're so fucking wet it keeps slipping out,” adds Lando in a low tone, so turned on that it makes her clench around his head.

To her frustration, the speed at which Lando pushes back inside might as well be negative, causing her to explode with how needy she becomes in the meantime. But just as she’s about to encourage him to sink further, he buries himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust.

“Lan…” she says as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, “You… feel so good,” she takes a moment to breath into his skin, then she turns her head to catch their reflection once again.

Lando is already looking, and when they make eye contact through the mirror, he starts fucking her slowly and gently, as if he could break her.

“See how silly you look for thinking we won't match?” he sounds so amazed by how easily she opens up for him, over and over again, with each steady thrust of his hips, “See that? Taking all of me so well, baby.”

“Lando,” she cries out at the way his cock throbs against her walls, because she knows it's way too slow, even for him.

It's simply agonizing.

“So perfect around me,” he states, “Can't believe I lasted that long. Should've fucked you from the first night.”

At this point, he's just rambling, but the thought makes her stomach tie in a knot.

“You would've let me, wouldn't you?”

“Yes,” she speaks, already drunk on the way he feels inside her, “I would have let you fuck me in the plane bathroom, on the way to Imola. And back in your driver's room, when Oscar caught us kissing. And last week, outside the club… Fuck. I wanted you to fuck me there so bad.”

His mind goes blank with all the lost opportunities, causing him to gradually increase his pace, the sound of them connecting so obscene.

“Wh—” he almost chokes on words, “Why didn't you say anything?”

“You—stressed about work. I… I didn't want to be—distraction,” she tightens her legs around him, keeping him inside her, the words losing their meaning as Lando shifts his position, wrapping his arm around her thigh to open her up even more for him. "Like that, mhm, yes!"

“You're so tight, fuck,” he swallows hard as he squeezes roughly at her thighs. “I'm so close.”

She knows that will leave marks on her skin, but nothing beats the pleasure of having Lando fucking himself so deep inside her, that her vision starts clouding.

All common sense went out the window the moment she stepped through his door, anyway.

She can feel his breath warm against her neck, hear the soft hitch in his breathing as he leans in, his lips brushing her shoulder, never breaking eye contact with her in the mirror. Lando's hands are making their way to cup her ass, pulling out all the way, before fucking back in, all over again, until he finds the perfect rhythm between their bodies. He moans loudly, pressing his upper body on her, their scents blending together and sweat transferring from skin to skin. They move so in sync, completely attuned to each other, and the sight of their shared pleasure, reflected back at them, turns everything into fireworks, her mind completely empty. Except for how well she's being fucked.

“Lan—Lando,” she's so close to sobbing that she shuts her mouth at the sound of her voice, thinking it's too pathetic to whine as she cums around him, her release dripping all over between their bodies.

The wet sound her pussy makes gives Lando way to fuck in deeper, taken by surprise that she finished without any warnings. He grips her ass one more time before he stills inside her, his cock throbbing, and pulls out right before he starts leaking, resting his cock against her thigh, his entire length coated in her release. His cum drips from his tip to her inner thigh, making him groan while he fixes his gaze on the mirror at the image of them.

She buries her fingers in his curls after he finally collapses on top of her, their heavy breaths echoing throughout the room. With his head on her chest, he can feel her heart racing, gradually slowing down, and lets out a soft laugh as she shifts a little under him.

“We're so fucking matching, baby. Let's gooo!” exclaims Lando, exhaust evident in his voice.

She feels her cheeks warm, “I think you’re a little biased right now,” she jokes.

Lando shifts slightly so he can see her face, brushing a thumb tenderly along her side. He smiles softly, the usual spark in his eyes softened by something deeper, so gentle.

“I'm just happy.”

Her heart flutters, and she feels him sink even closer to her, threading his fingers through hers.

“And very sweaty,” she adds with a chuckle.

“I'm pretty sure that's you,” he teases, letting the moment pass slowly, then calling out her name in a serious voice.

“Mhm?” she hums while turning to look in the mirror, watching him getting comfortable on top of her.

“Where do we go from here?” asks Lando.

“Your bedroom, I hope. The floor is killing my back.”

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

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pinkcharmette · 3 months ago

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𝜗𝜚 my extensive morning routine - for the girlies who need their alone time ,, especially before a hectic day ++ free printable !!

drink water

this is an absolute game-changer ! bonus if its warm or room temperature, really gets the metabolism going as well as soothes your throat !!

make your bed

this makes my room look MUCH neater, and gives me peace of mind + incentive not to get back under the covers and doze off again TT

meditation

another thing that calms me down greatly and gets me focused and set for the day, i really recommend lavendaire, her meditations are top-tier and she has several lengths to pick from

morning yoga

debloat yoga or stretching is a must for me, it helps aid my digestion as well as reduce bloating in the morning.

exercise

i like to do either shirlyn kim, april han, chloe ting or momomi workouts in the morning ending with a hinafit's full body stretch that's twenty minutes long. i use chloe ting's workouts as cardio mostly and then a set of targeted hiit from momomi and relaxing pilates from shirlyn kim and april han.

i am also trying to go on walks in the morning as well TT

skincare + dental care

my skincare routine in the morning is cleanser + toner + hydrogel + sunscreen + matte sunstick + lip balm and my dental care routine is herbal toothpaste + fluoride toothpaste + mouthwash. i wash my hands between and before/after steps.

shower routine

i use a pumice stone and sugar scrub in the shower to exfoliate along w baby soap and shower gel to clean up. i apply three layers of moisturizer + coconut oil on getting out !!

reading

in the mornings, i like to either annotate classics or read my weekly self-help book or just read educational nonfiction and take notes in my commonplace journal about them.

journalling

i fill out five affirmations, five things i'm grateful for as well as my intentions for the day. i also write down what would make my day great, as well as habits to focus on (at least three)

planning

i plan w/ my planners, notebook and wall calendar spread as well as notion and a habit app, as well as google sheets.

that wraps up this post, and here is the printable checklist spanning four days

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fishsinsareacknowledged · 3 months ago

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God damnit Nikto would have such heavy breaths. From the way his mask is made, full coverage leaving not even a space to breathe even you can tell from a mile away that he had good healthy lungs. Lungs that could bear being squeezed and suffocated for hours and still get a good exercise in.

Something about the way he breathed when he was just using a cloth to cover his face. Something rough about how his throat is scarred and deformed from how much he screamed and begged.

Something about how he liked to breathe you in. A soft almost shy look in his eyes after he ducked down just to get your scent in his lungs, warm, sweet.

Something about how he slowed and quieted his breaths down when you sleep with him. Making sure he doesn't move too much or wake you up with his breaths because it would kill him mentally.

Nikto who accidentally wakes you up because he's having a panic attack about his own breathing. Far too controlled to be comfortable for him to breathe, too soft, too little breaths against the side of your head.

"Nikto are you-"

"We are fine little star-", and he speaks too softly it turns into a wheeze. He wasn't made for whispers.

"Nikto baby, you can breathe, I'm not gonna be-"

"We- we woke you up, forgive us just-"

And he heaves when you pull his head to his chest. Suffocating him in that familiar way his mask normally does, it turned him soft. Weak.

He doesn't speak for a while, just breathing so very heavily against your chest. Your scent dizzying and yet so damn calming. The next time you check on him, he's asleep. They'll talk in the morning.

#TWO IN ONE DAY???? HAVEN'T SEEN THIS SINCE I FIRST STARTED WRITING #cod #call of duty #hcs #nikto #cod nikto #nikto cod #call of duty nikto #nikto x reader #mwii nikto

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ceilidho · 1 year ago

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landscape with honey

summary: price/reader bear shifter fic. PART 4. (read the whole thing on ao3 here) tags: light daddy kink, breeding kink, very nsfw, she/her pronouns for reader

He starts showing up at your house at odd hours.

You’re fixing coffee in the morning, still fuzzy and warm from sleep, only to hear the sounds of hammering outside. Wrapping yourself in just a housecoat, you find John fixing the loose step on your stairs, barely sparing enough time to greet you before returning to the task at hand. When he finishes, he brushes off your attempts to pay him for the job, just loading his tools back in the car and driving off.

You sip your coffee and wonder. Odd.

The next day, you find him raking the leaves in your lawn. Two days later, he shows up at the grocers when you’re picking up produce, and helps you carry all your bags to the car. He also adds a peculiar amount of canned goods to your order and when you fret and try to tell him that you don’t need the pickles and sauerkraut and beans and all of that stuff, he just lays a hand flat on your head and drags it down your hair until you go quiet.

He pays for the whole order.

You’ve never had to wonder about a man’s actions. Men are largely inscrutable to you, ever-shifting. They say one thing and mean another. They look at you like one might look at an oil painting, entitled something like Virgin Meeting Her Lover’s Eyes From The Top Of The Staircase or Landscape With Virgin. They speak to you as though an answer were entirely antithetical to their purpose in conversing with you.

John listens to you with a focus that borders on intimidating, like he wants to hear each word enunciated exactly how you might enunciate it. It has the sharp clarity of respect, of a mutual acknowledgement of humanity. He also comes over to fix your sink without you having to ask. The world of men is still largely confusing to you.

John grows surlier as the days grow shorter though. He doesn’t snap or snarl at you the way he does sometimes with his recruits (you rarely see him interact with them, but sometimes you’ll drop him off his lunch on the days when you’re feeling particularly generous and that’s when you’ll have the rare pleasure of hearing him shout at a trembling twenty-three year old for littering on the trail like a military captain), but it’s a near thing.

The worst is when he catches you on a jog one morning on his drive to work. You see his truck with the faded red paint pass you by and you give a short wave that he returns. He passes you by about half a yard before coming to a full stop and reversing. You stare at him as the window rolls down, brows furrowed.

“Hi Jo—” you start.

“Get in the car,” John growls. You hear the doors unlock.

“…My uh…my shift’s in two hours, John, I can’t just—”

“Get in the car.”

“This is my only time to exercise!”

“If I have to get out of this car and drag you inside, honey, I will. Don’t play with me. Get in.”

You get in the car. Probably wisely. Still dripping sweat and shivering from the cold—you’re not used to jogging in the winter, or at all for that matter, but it seemed like as good a time as any to start—you glance over to stare at the side of John’s face. His jaw is set, almost as if in anger. His knuckles are white over the steering wheel as he makes a U-turn and drives back into town. The cab of his truck smells like flannel pulled out from the back of a closet, almost musty, but comforting in the way that old clothes can sometimes smell. There’s a cigarette ashed out in the dish in front of the centre console.

He takes you to the nearest bakery for coffee and a breakfast muffin and stares you down until you eat the whole thing. You feel like you have to scarf it down. Customers bustle into the bakery to order coffee to-go and fresh cookies and scones in waxy paper bags; everyone in town knows each other so you try to avoid the more curious stares when they’re turned on you.

“This is weird,” you say, staring down at the crumbs on your plate. “This is really weird.”

“This is what you get for exercising before winter,” John says, flagging down the barista for another muffin and a refill on your coffee. “Waste of calories.” The last part is said derisively, almost with a scoff.

You frown. “Lots of people exercise. Even when it snows.”

“Winter is a time for hibernating. Not…sweat,” he says with a grimace, like the very thought is anathema to him.

"Hibernating?" you repeat skeptically, scrunching up your nose. "I mean, I spend a lot of time indoors, but I wouldn't say I'm hibernating."

John stares at you until you look away, flushed. "Finish your breakfast."

The barista returns with another blueberry muffin and a fresh cup of coffee. At least John's the one paying. When he finally seems satisfied, he hustles you home and leaves you off at the door with a stern warning.

“You gonna be good for me this time?” he asks, a finger curled under your chin, tilting your head up. One of his hands curls around the doorframe and your heart jumps when you hear the wood creak under his grip. This close, you can see the faintest silver streaks at his temples and the flecks of it in his beard.

“It was just a light jog,” you mumble, looking away.

“Not a light anything,” he warns, ducking closer until you feel like shrinking back, like disappearing into your house. “Bake a cake if you have to burn off energy so bad. I’ll be over around seven, alright?”

You mumble something, the words getting lost in themselves. It’s impossible to think with John in your space like this. It’s only when he finally pulls away and ambles back to his truck that you rock back on your heels, let go of whatever spell he had you under.

The first week of December hits town like a truck.

You’re trudging home alone after your shift when you make the decision to cut through the forest because you missed the last bus and you don’t want to spend an hour walking home. The first snow of the season has caught you off guard, clad in boots too autumnal and a sweater too thin for the biting cold. The flakes fall in thick chunks that stick for a brief moment before melting into the skin.

It’s not the first time you’ve travelled through the forest alone. The town is surrounded by pockets of the forest, like it can’t help enveloping whatever space is left for it. Oftentimes it’s easier just to cut through the woods rather than travel the long way around. You wouldn’t even call this the forest proper, not like the acres of trees sprouting over the mountains just off in the distance.

A bush rustles. Your eyes flick over for a second, breath hovering in your chest before you decide that it’s just a squirrel. Nothing ever happens in a town like this. The man from the other day notwithstanding, nothing truly bad ever happens. You keep walking down the partially demarcated path, lit only by the full moon overhead. It’s so dark that the snow around you is almost blue.

The bush rustles again. You stop this time, feet staying planted in the snow long enough for your feet to grow cold. You stare at the dark shoots covered in a layer of snow; it stripes the branches like candy from a time ago, licorice twisted with white bark, and it doesn’t move when you look at it. The bushes and trees are dense, impossible to peer through. Even walking through the forest doesn’t make you feel immersed in it. You follow a barely marked path, hard to see through the recent snowfall, and stare out into the dark woods with a kind of animal sense. Not sure whether you’re alone, whether something’s there with you, and whether it’s sensed you or if you’ve sensed it first.

You start walking again when your feet go numb. Better to just get home.

It comes behind you again as a slightly louder rustle. It’s harder to shake off the fear this time, harder to say that it’s just the wind. The snow crunches under more than one set of feet, branches cracking under the weight of something larger than you.

You don’t want to turn around, but the sound of something chuffing makes your stomach drop. The first thing that emerges when you turn to face it is its massive head, a white frosted muzzle, and the visible hump on its back. The wispy smoke of its breath puffs out when it breathes. Its eyes are dark, hardly reflecting any light at all. Then the rest of it emerges, the saplings bending out of its way as it clambers out of the woods and onto the path, staring you down all the while.

You’ve never seen a bear before. Not this close. Not so close that you know it’s been stalking you, know that it didn’t come upon you by accident. You’re staring down at your own body from somewhere else, fear displacing you. Rending you from your own body. There’s no way to guess its weight at a glance, but it’s easily twice the size of you, easily more than that.

When it takes a step forward, everything goes dark.

You wake up snuggled under the warmth of a thick blanket. Sleep is creamy thick, engulfing you on all sides, only the faintest prickle of awareness letting you know that you’re awake.

It’s unpleasant to leave the cotton miasma of sleep, you think. Your nose scrunches up and you let out a tired huff, trying to will yourself back into it. The harder you try to force yourself back into it though, the farther away it floats.

Still it weighs you down. It takes an age to work up the energy to so much as twitch a finger. Even your eyelids insist on staying shut. Yet, the prickle of consciousness needles at you as if to say hello, wake up, you need to get up. You sigh and try to shimmy up onto your elbows.

A hand shoves you back down. The breath rushes out of you.

“Get…back down,” a rough voice grunts from over you and then the full weight of a man settles on top of you, pressing you deep into the mattress.

Consciousness snaps back into you, elastic sharp. The weight of him pins you to the bed, makes you sink into the plushness of—and this is gradually coalescing in your mind—an unfamiliar place. All four corners of your body are trapped under him. The voice is familiar though. Ragged, brutal. A saw taken to the trunk of an old, thick tree, too many interior rings to count. You whisper John’s name and he grunts, making you flinch from how the sound reverberates through the side of your head.

Exhaustion is thick though and it leaves you heavy, even when John slowly lifts himself to his elbows from behind you. You feel him drag his body down the length of the bed, beard scratching into your skin with every petal soft kiss dropped along your spine during his descent.

“John?” you whisper, only just able to turn your head, not even able to struggle up to your elbows. “J-John?”

He doesn’t answer you. The room is near pitch black, only a window on the other end of the room with the curtain pulled back the smallest amount enough to let the moonlight in. Even the moonlight isn’t enough. You know from the shape of the window that this isn’t your house, that it must be somewhere else. You can only surmise from John’s presence that it’s his, but that thought passes over you like a rock skipping over water.

“Wher’m’I?” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut when his lips press over the small of your back. Sensitive there.

Rough hands with callused fingertips smooth over your ass, pressing into the flesh. His fingers pry your cheeks apart, thumbs dipping into the space between and pressing over your hole, making you burn all over. You’re too far gone to worry about any hair on your legs or anything about your body other than John’s hands undulating over your ass and thighs. You flinch violently when his teeth sink into the meat on the underside of your ass, so tender that even exhausted to the bone your body lashes out.

Big hands pry your legs apart. You flinch at the sudden hot breath over your sex, a whine tickling your throat. His face hovers so close to your centre that the tip of his nose presses on the tender skin near your entrance.

“Wha’ d’you…think you’re doin’...” you ask breathlessly. Your brain tries to order your leg to kick, but it stays flat and limp on the bed.

The first touch of John’s tongue along your slit makes you melt, the flat of his tongue lapping upward and making your hips tilt up with it. It almost makes your mind go blank again, almost tips you back into the unconscious world because the synapses in your brain stop firing the second you remember that it’s John between your legs licking hungrily at your cunt. John from the grocery store, John from the ranger’s station in the mountains—the John you’ve been crushing on and coveting for months now, content to just be friends with the gruff, handsome man in the house next to yours. Now sucking one of your nether lips into his mouth and tracing his tongue up the inside, gliding it over the supple flesh.

“Yer in the den,” John mumbles into your pussy and it’s like he sears the words into your brain. “‘N I’m takin’ care of you, honey.”

“The…the den…?” It’s so hard to keep your thoughts in order. Each flick of his tongue makes you gasp, pussy growing wetter and hips grinding languidly down on his face.

He hums instead of answering.

“Why’m’I so tired?” you slur.

His tongue saws over your clit from behind. It tears a broken whimper from you. You feel every textured ridge, the way it flicks around in a circle and then up and down again.

“Winter season,” John says, sucking your clit into his mouth until you whine at the top of your lungs. “Bear’s sleep in winter.”

“Tha’s silly. M’not a bear,” you moan.

“No,” he agrees, humming into your sex. “Jus’ mated to one. Makes you sleepy too, honey.”

“Mated?” you repeat back, but it’s lost in the way you moan when he eats your pussy from the back, licking into you with renewed vigour. Hungry like a bear. Grunting like a satisfied man, slurping loud enough to make your face heat up.

Words and old memories about bears hardly matter when the handsome man from next door spreads your legs wide, almost to the point of pain, and sinks his tongue into your hole again. You never would’ve expected John to be vocal, but he’s noisy behind you, groaning into your cunt. He keeps mumbling things under his breath that you can’t catch.

“John—” you gasp, biting your lip when he sucks your clit into his mouth again. “John—John—”

He only has to give you a single finger to tip you over the edge, feeds it in nice and slow. Your cunt clenches down at the intrusion, teeth nearly breaking through the skin of your lip.

When he crawls back over you, anticipation makes you shudder. You hear something faint in the background that grows steadily louder as John rests his elbows on either side of your head, until you realize that it’s your own voice murmuring, “Put it in, put it in, put it in—”

He obliges. A thick, steady plunge that hardly manages more than a handful of inches before you’re crying, and it’s too much, too much, too much. Pleasure not a limpid pool anymore but something cavernous and deep-dwelling, pulling you in or trying to make a home inside of you for it. John’s biceps tense with the strain of holding himself back.

You balance on the knife’s edge between pleasure and pain. There’s a single thought in your head that it might burn you up from the inside; it runs a jagged hole through you.

His nose drags through your hair. “Never expected you. Thought I’d go another season alone ‘till I started smellin’ you around town.”

You hiccup. “Y’never—never paid me any attention ‘for— before, ah—”

“‘Course I paid attention to’ya, honey,” John says into your ear, grunting when he drives deeper into your pussy, still just a languid grind of his hips, so mind-numbingly slow that your thoughts sizzle out of your head. He keeps dragging his hips back and plunging in, barely pulling away from you, all skin on slick skin. “Made a home for m’self in your house. Made sure we had ‘nough to eat for the winter.”

“The winter?”

“Won’t be goin’ anywhere for a few months.” He brushes your hair out of the way to kiss down your neck, giving in to the urge to bite just a little. His body stays pressed tight to yours, hardly an inch of space between the two of you. “Wasn’ sure at first if it’d be here or in your house so… fuck, I had to get ready. Make sure you’d be safe when it hit.”

“Don’ even…know wha’ that means,” you mumble into the mattress, then squeal and fist the fists when John shoves a hand under you to grope your chest.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shushes you. “All y’have to do now is lie there ‘n take my cock, okay, honey? Can’ya do that for me? I’ll get some food in you after we’re done, then send ya back to bed.”

Only a whine comes out when you open your mouth. John’s arm by your head forces you to breathe in the scent of him, musky and rich. You stare at the hair on his knuckles and his thick fingers gripping the sheets as well, old nicks and scars decorating his hand. You can’t stop staring at his fingers and thinking that he had one of those in you before, that he’s felt you from the inside.

He never pulls away, never changes positions, just fucks you on your tummy in his bed. You’ve never been in John’s bedroom before, but this has to be his room—even the pillowcase smells like him, pine needles and cigar smoke. He keeps up a steady pounding into your cunt, rutting like a wild animal. Has to be close. Gets so close to you that you feel smothered, trapped in place. Like if you struggled, he wouldn’t let up. You want to test it, see if you could, but the heaviness is still in your limbs, keeping you docile. Convenient. A little convenient thing for him to use, like a doll to get himself off with.

“Never coulda imagined such a pretty girl f’r me,” John groans, getting a grip in your hair to twist your head, tugging you into a kiss. Your whole body sparks to life, so shocked that you can’t even kiss him back at first. You wait until he pulls back, staring into his half-lidded eyes through the mess of your hair all tangled up around you. “Gave up on thinkin’ there was anyone out there. Thank fuck I found you first, honey. Can start workin’ on all the good stuff now. Get you to give daddy a baby.”

“D-daddy?” you gasp back, almost scandalized.

He pants into your shoulder, worked up now. “Yeah, honey. Don’ I take care of you? Buy y’r food, fix y’r house? Give you someplace nice ‘n warm to sleep?”

You feel soaked with sweat, twitchy, on the verge of something dangerous. Vision all fogged up, heart beating so fast that your skin buzzes. Stretched out on a fat cock and pinned in a man’s bed, nowhere to run or hide.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter when John gets a bit rougher, his breathing getting more staggered, laboured.

“That’s right, girl,” he grunts, “I’m y’r fuckin’ daddy then, aren’t I?”

Magma bubbles up from deep inside of you. Rockslides off in the distance beat against the ground. When you cry out, it gets lost in the rubble.

You stumble into the living room maybe hours later after using the washroom across the hall. Maybe a day later. It’s hard to say how many times the sun has risen and fallen behind the mountains. The clock face stares back at you uncomprehendingly.

Come drips out of you onto the floor. Thick droplets run down your inner thighs. John is still sleeping in the bed where you left him, snoring like a chainsaw. It must’ve been what woke you up. There’s no way of knowing how long it’s been since he first brought you home, since he left a mess in your pussy, which is still puffy and sore from rough use. You walk with halting little steps to try to minimize the ache.

You stare bleary-eyed around the room. It feels somehow different than the previous times John’s had you over; there are more throws and blankets draped over the couch, candles scattered around the living room with a lighter on the mantle.

There’s a fire roaring in the fireplace, blanketing the house in a layer of warmth. It makes you sluggish, stumbling forward only a handful of steps before the shaggy rug in front of the fire drags you back down to the floor.

“What’re you doing out of bed, pretty girl?” someone rumbles from behind you.

“Had t’pee,” you say, blinking. You try to rub the sleep out of your eyes unsuccessfully. “Why’m’I still so tired? It’s been…I slept so long…”

“C’mon, honey,” John says, coming up behind you and curling his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Told you it was gonna be a long winter. Maybe just one more and then somethin’ to eat, okay?”

It’s easy to sink to the floor, so easy. Especially with the fluffy rug under your feet. Especially with the fireplace toasting you from the outside in, the tinder crackling in the hearth. Everything in the house is dark and warm, only the fire giving you any light at all. Outside the window, the moon is still heavy in the sky.

Something about the humidity of the den makes you suddenly so tired, boneless, pliable when he goes to move you, when John curves himself around you in the furs and reaches down to slide a hand between your thighs.

He grunts when he finds you wet and wanting, sinking a couple fingers in and palming your clit. He doesn’t talk much still, but he says good girl when he cants your hips and slowly stretches you out on his cock. Feeds it into you achingly slow, like molasses. Like nothing’s due for another few months, so why rush it? He’ll take his time so you’re nice and happy and sweet come spring for cubs.

You’re not sure what that means. The pace is slow and deep, like before but less intentional. Like he just wants to savour the warmth of your body.

When he finally comes deep inside you, your body goes limp, collapsing in a heap onto the rug. You expect John to pull out and turn over, maybe pull you onto his chest so you have somewhere to rest. Instead, he sighs all tired and content, and stays in you, still plugged up in your cunt, his spend only just starting to leak out into a pool beneath you.

“Are we gonna eat?” you mumble, already half-asleep.

Somewhere behind you, he laughs; it’s soft like a snowfall in winter. “Yeah, honey. After a nap, we can eat.”

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #captain price #captain john price #cod price #john price #price/reader #price x reader #price x you #john price x reader

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ynbabe · 6 months ago

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Cute situations w/ f1 drivers- ep2.

Asking the drivers if they 'wanna nap?'

Charles:

"Wanna nap?" You asked the man as soon as he stepped into his hotel room, tired and eyes red. You knew Ferrari wasn't some winter wonderland but you didn't know why Charles put up with it.

You had been close friends with the man, since before he'd started f3 too, you knew he bled Ferrari red but this wasn't bleeding this was suicide.

Nonetheless, you were there for him, every weekend, only today there wasn't much to do, he had just come back from some meetings. He looked at you and hummed, taking off team-issued merch and throwing himself on the bed beside you.

You turned on some sad Adele song and faded into sleep, holding the boy close to you, his head resting on the curve of your neck.

Carlos:

"Wanna nap?" You asked Carlos as you both walked into his drivers' room, it was early in the morning at the Las Vegas GP and just as the year before they had messed up the timings and the drivers had to wait till four-thirty in the morning to get on with the programme.

Knowing the both of you, you were sure if you hadn't extended the offer the both of you would have ended up doom-scrolling through Netflix looking for some show to watch fighting off sleep.

"What?" He asked, shocked at the offer for a second before raising his browns and winking at you, "You finally feel my charm didn't you?" he laughed as he climbed onto the small and rickety bed next to you. "Smooth operator strikes again," he praised himself, pulling you close to him, enveloping you in his arms as the big spoon.

You groaned and kicked his shin, making him complain, "Dude you're so fucking lame!" You made fun of the older man who only replied with terrorism (tickling you,) "S-top, stop, I'm sorry," you laughed, trying to escape the death grip he had on you, eventually getting him to stop.

He let you catch your breath as he set an alarm, before trapping you in his warm arms again, both drifting into a comfortable sleep.

Lando:

It was way past midnight but you couldn't sleep, unable to get yourself out of the party high, too drunk to rest your brain. Thankfully you weren't the only one.

There was a barrage of knocks on your hotel room, a slurred voice with a British accent begging to be let in. "Y/n/nnnnn, I can't sleep," he cried once in the room, stumbling over nothing as you both made your way to your bed.

You giggled as he fell, brushing his hands over the cold blanket. You joined him, crawling onto the bed slowly as the room around you spun. You laid on your back, clinging onto the bed for dear life.

Lando noticed and piled on top of you, making you raise a question brow. "So you don't fall off," he muttered, his face buried in your chest.

"Ohhhh, that makes sense," you said, understanding his thought process as the spinning slowed down. "We should nap," you said out loud, eyes shutting due to the comforting warm weight on top of you.

Lando hummed in return, wrapping his hands around your waist, as you pulled one hand up to his and another grabbing his curls for extra support.

Oscar:

There were two things everyone knew about Oscar, he hated waking up early and he loved sleeping. So when his trainer woke him up on a perfectly cosy yet cool Monday morning to exercise, he nearly wanted to kill the man, only stopping because that would take much more effort than simply going through with the workout.

Your apartment was closer to the gym than his, so he happily invited himself in to bitch and moan about his trainer and how that man must have hated him.

Rolling at your friend's antics, you pushed away your laptop, walking from the dining table to where he was sitting on your sofa.

"Wanna nap?" You had barely finished your question when you were pulled onto the Australian.

"I thought you'd never ask," he whispered, as he shuffled on the narrow sofa to get comfortable, you still on top of him, his arms wrapped around your waist and your face buried in his neck.

"Are you using me as a teddy bear?" You asked incredulously, trying to get up to no avail as the man's grip on you was far too strong.

"Yes, now let me sleep," he murmured, already half gone.

George:

George had a habit of pushing himself too far, ever since he was a child. When you guys had just newly become friends, the boy had spent hours trying to find out what exactly you liked and didn't, stalking your Instagram and your family's Facebook.

You had found it endearing but also concerning how he always wanted to be perfect. So when you walked into his house at midnight (you got a key made- there's a reason the both of you got along so well,) and found him staring unblinkingly at his laptop and a large mess of papers spread across the wooden coffee table.

"Dude, what is wrong with you," You whisper-yelled at the man making him jump, pressing a hand to his chest.

"Me? What is wrong with you?" He yelled, panting as you jumped over the back of the couch, sitting right next to him, ruffling through the papers much to his chagrin.

"Shut it, Georgie boy," you smirked at him using the nick name he hated. “What are you even doing, it’s so late?” You asked looking at the taller man who started off in a rant about the car and everything he was doing wrong, making you slide down on the sofa till you head was resting on the backrest. You lifted your feet up to rest them on the coffee table, making George rush to move a stack of papers so they wouldn’t be under your feet.

Perfect. You grabbed the man’s shoulders and made his head rest on your lap.

“What on earth are you doing!” He yelled more than asked, trying to get up but you doubled down.

“George you need to sleep,” you deadpanned as he tried to make you let him go, knowing his pleas fell on deaf ears he gave up.

You raised your brow, “wanna nap?” You asked teasing the boy.

“Only for a few minutes,” he pressed, making himself comfortable, while you tangled your fingers in his hair, “maybe more then,” he sighed and let his eyes shut, slightly watering and finally fell asleep.

Lewis

Lewis had never been a friend to you, he was more like an annoying yet caring older brother or like a fun uncle of sorts. The man was fiercely protective of his friends, even those whom he saw in animosity.

But you were different, Lewis would steal your coffee, eat your food, and push you around but he'd also sneak you Red Bull (much to his disgust,) into his driver's room during late races, walk you to your hotel room after parties and get you souvenirs from races you couldn't be at. Similarly, you loved to annoy the man, stealing his expensive jackets, which looked hilarious due to the size difference, stealing his headphones and running away with them and most importantly coming to him with your problems day or night.

So no, Lewis wasn't surprised when you showed up to his driver's room in the middle of the day, even though Toto had revoked your pass for the day (for bullying George, but it was worth it,). He was ready to tease you but then he saw your eyes, red and tears flowing down your face.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" He immediately came up to you, giving you a once-over to see if you were injured. "Did someone say something, are you hurt?" He asked panicking at your silence. You simply wrapped your arms around the older man, hiding your face in his chest, quietly sobbing and sniffling.

He walked you both to the sofa in his room, seating you down, trying to wipe your tears, "Do you wanna talk about it?" He asked as you finally calmed down, using his arm as support to sit up.

You cleared your throat, "No, I just wanna nap," you hiccuped slightly.

"Okay," he leaned back so you could rest your head on his shoulder, giving you one of his airpods to relax, which you gladly accepted.

Lance & Fernando (they aren't always gonna be together but the situations... THE SITUATIONS WRITE THEMSELVES)

"Oh honey that’s not," Lance said pointing to your coloured hair (matching with Alex) and thats how the conversation had started and had ended in a cat fight.

“At least I’m not a nepo baby,” you yelled as you threw a basket of oranges at him, which he dodged, darn those f1 reflexes. The basket itself smacked him square in the face, leaving a red indent across his nose. He glared for a second before jumping over the table you were fighting across and pulled your hair. “Owww, you bitch”

You bit his hands in defence, to which he kicked your shin, screaming you launched yourself at him, crashing the both of you to the ground, “oh my god, okay, truce, truce,” he panted, pushing you off him.

“Just so you can catch your breath,” you retorted making him mock you. In reality, you were definitely much more tired than he was. You were struggling to catch your breath, your head killing you where he grabbed a large chunk of your hair.

You turned to look at him, resting your head on his stretched arm, he was massaging his nose, the bruise turning purple now, “well that was fun,” he turned to face you.

“Sooooo fun,” you rolled your eyes, “wanna nap? My heads killing me,” you are far him in accusation but he glared right back pointing to his swollen nose.

“Sure,” he shrugged, shifting closer to you and closing his eyes. You opened your mouth to make a joke but were interrupted, “there are like a million oranges on the floor right now, I’ll throw one at you,” you accepted defeat and fell into a comfortable sleep.

That’s how Fernando found the both of you, slightly scowling but fast asleep, he took a picture for blackmail’s sake and placed a blanket over the two of you.

PT-2 w/ Max, Logan, Alex, Daniel, Yuki, Pierre, Esteban, Zhou.

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luveline · 6 months ago

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hi jadey! if you are up for it, do you think you could write reader unexpectedly doing smth nice for coworker!james, maybe she’s being kind of shy and trying not to make it a big deal while he’s trying v hard to not be all giggly heart eyes kiss kiss at her LOL thank you in advance and ilysm <3

tysm ilysm <3 fem

“Hey, killer.”

You sidestep past James bag into the nook of your desk. “Killer?” you ask, quick to drop your bag onto your chair and unbutton your coat.

“Beth told me you killed a spider in the break room. That’s not cool.”

“It was looking at me funny.” You shed your coat. “Where’s Remus?”

“Coffee.”

James doesn’t give you half as much attention as you’d wanted, turning back to his computer with an impassive expression. You swallow a cough and grab your bag, desk chair creaking as you sit. There’s a memo from Remus already tacked to your desk that asks you nicely to send him a long list of files, each written in careful print, and then a second that says good morning.

You smile at it and set them aside.

Though James doesn’t like you much, and you’re not totally sold on him, you’re starting to feel like you’re part of a team. It’s a hearty feeling to belong somewhere, to know you’re valuable, even if you’re only punching numbers in and swapping spreadsheets. So you’d seen the green tube boxes in the shops and you’d decided on a whim to get them. Perhaps it would inspire some sweetness from James. If he stops putting your mug in the freezer, you’ll be happy.

“I got you something.”

James tilts his head to the side but doesn’t look up. “Huh?”

The office lights aren’t as complimentary to his brown skin as the sun where it’s rising outside of your window. It warms his face and neck, and lightens the dark mop of his hair, his flyaways like silver scrapings.

You take one of the boxes from your bag and place it on the edge of his desk. You’ll give the second to Remus when he comes back.

“It’s one of your Smiskis,” you say, “but they’re exercise ones. I know you lift weights, there’s one with dumbbells. I want the hula hoop one.”

“Where did you get this?” he asks, looking at you with clear surprise. His thick brows rise. His smile is unmissable.

“They were three for two at Sainsbury’s. I got one for me and one for Remus, as well.”

James curls a lovely hand around the box. You pretend not to watch, quickly diverting your gaze to your bag to grab a Smiski for yourself. You can’t look up, can’t explain why on earth you thought it would be a good idea, really. You saw them and you thought of him and you’re entitled to lie about the two for three thing, it’s none of his business how much money you spend.

You dig your nail into the lid and rip it open.

“You look awfully smiley, Jamie,” Remus greets, approaching from your side to round the desks and place down his big mug of coffee. You chance a glance at the both of them and catch a half second of James’ ridiculous smile. “What made you so happy so early in the morning?”

“Nothing. Uh, just killer over here brought us some presents.” James tips the bag from inside of his box onto the desk mat.

“Really?” Remus asks.

You offer him his box over your monitors.

“Thank you,” he says. “What’s the occasion?”

“It’s nothing,” you say with a hurried shake of the head, looking down at your own mystery Smiski. They’re nondescript little people who glow with a green UV sheen, and you hadn’t seen the appeal to begin with, but each morning you make sure to fix James’ if he’s toppled over. He never tells you off for it. “I just want one for myself, that’s all.”

You open them in tandem. Your figurine is sitting with its legs out in a v-shape and arms stretching down to its toes. Remus’ is slightly smaller perched on a yoga ball. James, apparently having all the luck in the world, unveils a Smiski struggling to lift a dumbbell from the ground.

“I love him,” you say with a pleased laugh.

“He’s brilliant,” Remus says.

“Thank you so much.”

Your smile gets caught on your mouth. James’ tone isn’t strange but unfamiliar —he speaks without a hint of irony. His grin is full of an emotion you don’t recognise. Too happy. Too friendly.

“You’re welcome,” you say.

They’re both kind enough to ignore your mild breathlessness. “No, seriously, thank you, she’s so cool. I didn’t know we could get these ones yet over here.” James puts his weightlifting Smiski in pride of place atop his outgoings. “Sirius is going to be jealous. I'm sending him a photo.”

You feel Remus’ eyes on you. He stares until you look at him, eyebrows wriggling. “Thank you for my toy,” he says.

“They’re not toys, lovely Moony, they’re figurines,” James says, leaning down and angling his phone. He snaps a few photos from different positions. He can’t seem to stop smiling. “Aw, look at her. She’s sick as hell. She’s gonna get so swole.”

You wrinkle your nose and sweep your rubbish into the wastebasket. Swole isn’t the word you’d use. Ever. But if it makes him happy…

“This is the best thing that’s happened to me all week,” James mumbles to himself, before clearing his throat extra thoroughly. “This doesn’t change the fact that you killed that poor spider, you know. What was it doing to you?”

“I crushed her by accident opening a cupboard door.”

“Likely story.”

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

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chlorinecake · 5 months ago

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❝ MOLTO BELLA ❞ — P.JS

▹ PAIRING: soft dom! guitarist bf!jay x bratty switch! gf!reader

▹ WARNINGS: ⚠︎ BRAT TAMER JAY who puts you back in your place, f. masturbation, kind of giggly foreplay in the beginning, dry humping, titty play, finger sucking, hair pulling, rough unprotected sex in a hotel room (BACK SHOTS), cream pie, mentions of clubbing

▹ WORD COUNT: 2.1k, for @heeslomll on her lovely birthday... wishing you a very happy 19th, queen !! ♡♡♡

Just two days ago, Jay had whisked you away on a surprise getaway vacation, granting you both with a much-needed break from the hustle and bustle of your everyday lives…

Clubbing was a popular activity in the area, so like most guests at the Diamond Hotel, you and your boyfriend hit up an exotic club, where flashing lights, pounding music, overpriced drinks, and swirling bodies took over your sensual fields.

It wasn’t til around midnight once y’all had stumbled back to the hotel room, tiny giggles bumping from your tipsy body as Jay helped you undress, his touch gentle while guiding you into the warm bath he ran for you…

Oddly enough though, by time the following morning came, you couldn’t help but replay in your mind the way Jay’s veiny hands looked while carefully washing away the traces of last night's revelry from your skin…

The way his touch meticulously pampered you…

If you had had the energy for it last night, you’re sure you would’ve pulled his sexy ass into the tub with you, but that chance was over and done with now…

All you had currently was this king sized hotel bed all to yourself and your two, pathetic fingers that couldn’t make you feel good for shit…

And that’s when you heard it…

Jay’s skilled fingers faintly strumming a melody from his guitar… just from a few rooms away from you…

“Morning, beautiful,” Jay greeted upon hearing your bare footsteps enter the living room where he was busy working on chord progressions at the couch…

“Morning, daddy…” you returned playfully, catching on to the little smirk staining his face right away.

“Last night was fun…” you went on, almost mesmerized in the way his thick fingers traveled lower down the guitar neck, “didn’t know you could dance like that…”

“Yea?” He chuckled, eyeing you through his bangs as you paced around the table, “didn’t know you could drink like that, either…”

You let out a scoff at his comment, “Pleaseee, I was being quite conservative, actually… didn’t wanna make chaperoning too hard for you…”

“I'm sure I could handle it,” Jay replied in a slightly deeper voice this time, making your stomach flutter slightly at his words, “You hungry, party girl?”

“Not yet… I mostly just wanted to see why you left me all alone in bed this morning…”

Jay chuckled at your words, “Sorry about that, baby… I just wanted to practice this riff for a minute, but it doesn’t matter… you make sure my fingers get enough exercise anyways…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well… it means that I know you want something from me right now… with the way you’re pacing around… what is it, love?…”

You felt kinda bad for getting out of bed just in hopes that Jay would wanna fuck you, but tossing and turning on the sheets while thinking about his fingers inside you wasn’t any better either…

“Just wanna sit here, if that’s okay,” you sighed, eyes falling to his lap as he placed the guitar down beside him against the wall, leaning back on the couch a bit now so you could nestle yourself in his lap.

He gave his thighs a quick pat as you came over, straddling him now as he gave you a kiss under your ear, “Of course this is okay, princess… no need to be shy…”

You tried to ignore the feeling of Jay’s dick resting beneath your core, but couldn’t help yourself from grinding against it slightly.

And it didn’t take many words after that for your boyfriend to know exactly what you wanted from him now...

His hands fell to your hips while you kept humping against his lap, eyes wandering down to the way your nipples poked through your thin pajama shirt just as you asked if he wanted to touch them…

“Will you smack me again if I pinch them this time?”

You gasped at his words, feeling his grip on your thighs tighten as he smacked the flesh there, looking into your eyes now.

“You've helped me toughen up since then, baby,” you said with a heavy voice, “just need to feel your hands on me more than anything right now...”

“What's the magic word, love?”

You let out a sigh at his teasing, rolling your eyes as you said, “Please, Jay, would you play with my titties while I dry hump you like a virgin, pretty please?”

He chuckled at your words once again—

—with that attractive ass chuckle of his… not even hesitating to slide his hands under your shirt and start fondling with your boobs, lifting your shirt over one tit as he ran a thumb over your nipple…

He then leaned his head down to take a wet swipe with his warm tongue over your sensitive bud, sending shivers down your spine as you whined slightly.

“So needy this morning… was wondering what kept you in bed so long today…” he started with a tantalizing whisper.

“I had a dream about you… I tried to touch myself but—”

“It didn’t feel as good as this, huh?” He finished for you, rutting his hips up for a second as he tightening his grip on your tit, “already got you feeling sensitive and all your clothes are still on…”

All you did was moan at your boyfriend’s words, putting your hands at his shoulders just as his hands traveled lower, “can’t make myself cum without you anymore, Jay…”

“Then let me help you feel better, love… Do you like the way that sounds?…”

“Yes,” you nodded dumbly, letting him kiss you now as you still circled yourself in his lap, leaving a wet spot behind on his sweatpants.

He picked you up bridal style before taking you to the bedroom and placing you on the bed that still wasn’t made up after all your stirring this morning…

You already started to spread your legs for him as he stood before you, making him smirk at your neediness. “Would you close your legs for like, one second? I haven’t even pulled my dick out yet…”

“Well if it bothers you so much, why don’t you do something about it?”

He simply smiled at you again. Smugly this time, “Y’know, you say you’ve toughen up with me, but I bet you’d still start crying once I actually put you in your place…”

That’s when Jay took a hold of your hips, pulling you closer to where he stood with both your pelvises touching now.

“I’d say it’s worth a try,” you went on, looking back at him with blowjob eyes, “I always like it when you play rough with me, anyways…”

He trailed a finger from your knee, along your thigh, before finally reaching your pussy, where he tapped a finger at, knowing exactly where your clit was already given how many times he’s touched you before…

Circling your clothed clit, he applied a bit of pressure to the spot while holding your face to look at him, your tongue laving at his thumb as he toyed with your lower lip.

He felt himself twitch in his pants at the way you moaned against his finger, not wanting to waste anymore time before he said, “turn over for me, love…”

And you did just that, turning over on your stomach almost instantly, not even being able to process it when Jay swiftly pulled your shorts and panties down, the room’s cool air hitting your cunt.

You meant to say something bratty, but he interrupted your thoughts with a spank to your ass, not a painful one, but hard enough to get your attention…

To keep you in check…

“Tell me… how did I fuck you in your dream?”

“Like this,” you said plainly while poking your ass out for him, bumping against his bulge… “only difference is that you didn’t take as long to get started…”

“Oh? Well isn’t that nice,” Jay smirked, just as your ears caught on to the sound of him untying his pants and pulling them down.

You turned your head to look back for a second, quite obviously checking out his dick that you weren’t surprised to see was fully hard.

Catching onto your peeking, he pressed your face into the mattress, lining his tip up with your sopping hole before asking, “Was I rough, too?...”

You couldn’t even get an answer out before he pushed himself in, the sudden feeling of fullness making your torso tense with pleasure that traveled throughout your entire body.

“Don’t get shy on me again, baby,” Jay cooed, releasing the weight of his hand from your face slightly while keeping your shirt out of the way with his other hand, “I’m not even fully inside you, yet…”

He thrusted his hips into you again, pushing past your tightness as your walls hesitantly welcomed the rest of his length inside.

“Anggh,” you winced for a second, gripping at the sheets given the deep stretch.

He didn't care for your whining though, as he knew it was only gonna be a matter of time before you started begging him to go faster.

“J-Jay!” You cried out weakly, already too affected by his ministrations as you felt his tip reach amazing places inside you, his hand bunching up your hair as he kept your face meshed with the mattress.

“Jay, what?” He taunted in a voice so low, you felt it in your pussy, his free hand letting go of your shirt only to pin your hands behind your back, the sheets releasing from your grip with a loud pop.

“Y’know I can’t read your mind, princess…especially not when you’re going all dumb on my cock like this…”

He wasn’t going to ease up on you until you told him how you wanted him, even if your words would have to come out in tiny little hiccups and broken moans...

It was his way of teasing you… not because he was an asshole, but he knew deep down that you always enjoyed the sex better whenever he made you work for it a bit.

“I w-want it to hurt,” your voice managed to come out muffed against the sheets, eyes pricking with tears given his hold on your hair coupled with the way he kept fucking into your desperate cunt, “p-please keep f-fucking me like this...”

You almost couldn't believe you were falling apart so quickly, and neither could Jay, your knees hardly being able to stay straight given how hard he pounded into you.

Your boyfriend groaned deeply behind you, keeping your arms pinned as his hips pistoled into you at a rapid pace, your moans syncing up with each slap of skin, “you're driving me fucking crazy right now- fughhck, baby... feels so good inside you...”

It wasn't long before Jay's once controlled thrusts turned into much sloppier ones as you both drew closer to your highs, his grip on your hands releasing as he leaned over you, close enough to where he could kiss along your shoulders.

A small puddle of drool rested where your mouth was on the mattress, just as you felt his fingers tap at your cheek, making your teary eyes flutter back open.

He wanted you to look into his eyes for the last few moments he could last inside you, the tip of his cock pulsing with his heart beat as you felt his load filling you up.

A loud groan fell from his lips as he slowed down the movement of his hips, holding you down with his weight as your orgasm followed soon after his, body trembling given how powerful the sensation was.

You were a squirming mess beneath him, whining out desperate cries of him name as your walls pulsating around him like a drum, his lips finally meeting yours in a sweet kiss as you felt his length slip out of you, a string of slick connecting your bodies.

“How was that, princess?” Your boyfriend asked breathlessly, almost in a cooing manner as he brushed a bit of your hair out of the way, “feel any better now?…”

“Shut up, I feel amazing,” you said, giving him a knowing look with your eyes as your breath came out like a satisfied purr, his touch still tracing the side of your face as you looked back at him.

That's when you felt his tip sliding between your folds, making your legs feel wobbly all over again given how sensitive you still were.

“Think you got another one in you for me?” Jay asked, the head of his cock coming dangerously close to your hole now as he whispered against your neck, kissing the skin there.

Yes, you were already satisfied, but given the way he sweet-talked to you in this moment, you're sure another round wouldn't hurt.

⚠︎ Thank you all so much for reading this fic! Make sure you all wish this beautiful Italian princess a very happy birthday before the day is out, and check out my enhypen bookshelf if you’re interested in more works like this !!

⚠︎ tag list: @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @wonbinisbabygurl @addictedtohobi @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @ot7sevenlvr

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joelmillerisapunk · 4 months ago

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Moth to a Flame

Firefighter!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 6,877

Summary: During a fire station training session, seasoned firefighter Joel Miller becomes entranced by a volunteer's poise and spirit. When you lose your cherished nanna's ring in the hustle and bustle, Joel seizes the opportunity to return it.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v, male masturbation, soft but dom!Joel, light alcohol consumption, f!oral receiving, reader wears a dress.

Notes: Tysm @joelslegalwhre for being the most incredible human and beta 💖 tysm @saradika-graphics for the divider

In the golden embrace of the morning sun, the fire station pulsates with an electric anticipation. The air is thick with the scent of determination and the metallic tang of polished trucks standing at attention. Joel Miller, a firefighter with a decade of scars and stories etched into his soul, feels the familiar rush of adrenaline as he prepares for the day's training session with live volunteers. The heat, the weight of his gear, and the omnipresent smoke are his constants, his companions in a dance with danger that defines his existence. Yet amidst this orchestrated chaos, a new melody captures Joel's attention. You stand there, signing waivers, a vision of delicate strength wrapped in an aura of grace. Your eyes sparkle as bright as the ring on your finger with a blend of trepidation and thrill. There's an undeniable resilience in your gaze, and in this moment, Joel is certain, he yearns to unravel the story behind those eyes.

As you slip into character for the training exercise, your performance is nothing short of mesmerizing. You become the embodiment of someone caught in tragedy's grip, each flinch and strained breath echoing through Joel's heart like a siren's call. The world around him blurs into insignificance; all that remains is you—a beacon amidst smoke and shadows.

Joel watches you intently as you navigate through simulated wreckage with elegance despite your role as an injured victim. Your portrayal is hauntingly authentic; it stirs something within him that goes beyond professional admiration—it touches on something deeply human and profoundly connective. With every second that passes, Joel feels himself being drawn deeper into your orbit, captivated by your enigmatic presence and vibrant spirit that shines even in play-acted despair.

As Joel moves closer to you during these drills designed to hone their skills, he finds himself longing not just for safety but also for connection.

———

As the echoes of the day's training drills dissipate into the quiet corners of the fire station, a stillness settles over the scene. The once vibrant cacophony of shouts and machinery now gives way to a serene hush, as if the very building itself exhales a sigh of relief.

In this newfound calm, Joel's gaze falls upon a glimmering object nestled against the concrete floor. He stoops down, his gloved fingers encircling the small, radiant treasure. It's your ring—the same one you wore when you first walked in, its presence etched in his memory from when you signed those waivers with such care. The ring looks well-traveled, its metal worn smooth by countless days and nights on your finger.

With a sense of purpose, Joel secures the ring in his pocket. He hastens through his post-training routine, shedding the day's sweat and grime under the cleansing spray of the station's shower before gathering his belongings to depart. But there's an unfinished task that weighs on his mind, one that cannot wait until tomorrow.

Approaching Beatrice's desk with a warm smile playing on his lips, he prepares to make his request known. "Beatrice," he begins affectionately, "my favorite admin."

She looks up from her paperwork and returns his smile with one of her own. "Joel Miller," she says with a hint of playfulness in her voice. "What brings you to my corner of chaos today?"

He chuckles lightly at her jest and nods towards her computer screen where he knows she keeps all their records meticulously organized. "Actually," Joel confesses earnestly, "I need your help trackin’ down my victim from today's exercise." He gently takes the ring from the safety of his pocket and holds it up for Beatrice to see. "She dropped somethin’ quite precious during all that commotion.”

"No problem at all, Joel," she chirps, her voice as bright as the sun filtering through the station windows. "Just give me a moment."

"Thank you, darlin’," Joel responds gratefully, his own smile mirroring hers as he waits for the information that will bridge the gap between him and you. The seconds tick by in anticipation, each one carrying the promise of an imminent reunion that stirs his heart more than any fire ever could.

———

As Joel strides toward your neighborhood, the address scribbled on the post-it note seems to pulse with a rhythm that matches his quickening heartbeat. The discovery that you live just a few blocks away from him in this cozy enclave feels like a serendipitous twist of fate. With each step he takes, the anticipation builds within his chest, a fluttering sensation that's both exhilarating and unfamiliar.

The trees lining the sidewalk whisper secrets as he passes, their leaves rustling in the gentle breeze. He navigates the familiar streets with a newfound sense of purpose, each step bringing him closer to your front door—and to the mystery that is you.

Upon reaching your home, Joel pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts. The facade of the house seems to reflect his own nervous energy back at him. He takes a deep breath and ascends the front steps, his heart pounding with an intensity he hasn't felt in years.

With a trembling hand, he reaches out to press the doorbell, but before he can, the door swings open. There you stand, framed by the doorway and bathed in soft afternoon light. Your yellow sundress adorned with white flowers accentuates your silhouette, while an intricate silver chain with two delicate pendant charms rests against your skin—a subtle allure that captivates him instantly.

"Hello?" you inquire cautiously, your expression one of mild confusion—a sign that perhaps you don't remember him as vividly as he remembers you from just hours before at the fire station drill.

"Hey there," Joel begins with an attempt at casualness that belies his racing pulse and slightly unsteady voice. He clears his throat and steadies himself before continuing, "I'm Joel from earlier today—the fire department training session." His hand instinctively lifts to present your ring between two fingers for you to see. "I believe this belongs to you."

Your eyes widen in surprise and relief as recognition dawns on your face—a beautiful tableau of emotions playing across it like sunlight dancing on water's surface. "My nanna's ring!" You exclaim softly while gently accepting it back into your care with delicate fingers poised between reverence and joy at its recovery.

The gratitude shining in your eyes is palpable as they meet his once more over this small but significant reunion of yours with such precious memories attached. Your words of gratitude hang in the air like a sweet melody, and with a gentle tug, you pull Joel into a warm embrace. "Thank you," you say softly against his shoulder, "you have no idea what this ring means to me. I thought it was lost forever."

As the hug comes to an end, you step back, your gaze drifting toward the interior of your home before returning to meet Joel's eyes. There's a sincerity in your voice that's impossible to ignore as you extend an invitation that catches him off guard. "I was just making dinner. Would you like to join me? It's the least I can do after you've returned something so precious."

Joel's hand instinctively moves to the back of his neck, a sign of his nervousness as he contemplates your offer. "Wouldn't wanna impose," he replies hesitantly.

"Not at all," you assure him with a reassuring smile. "It's just spaghetti and meatballs—nothing fancy."

The mention of a home-cooked meal stirs something within Joel. His demanding schedule often leaves him with little time for such simple pleasures, and the prospect of enjoying one now is unexpectedly enticing.

"If it's not too much trouble ma'am."

You catch the slightest wince in Joel's expression as the word "ma'am" slips from his lips, and you can't help but tease him a little. "Please, ma'am makes me sound like some old spinster," you say with a light-hearted laugh. You introduce yourself by name before extending your hand in greeting. You step back, holding the door open, an unspoken invitation for him to cross the threshold into the warmth of your abode.

Joel pauses, a momentary hesitation before he steps inside, his senses are immediately greeted by the intoxicating aroma of home-cooked food that fills every corner of the house. “Smells delicious," he remarks, his voice tinged with anticipation.

"Hope it tastes even better," you reply with a smile, gesturing around you. "Please, make yourself at home. Mi casa es tu casa, or whatever it is."

As you lead him through the foyer, he takes in the cozy living room, a space that feels both personal and welcoming. The walls are adorned with photographs—snapshots of your life, your loved ones, and cherished memories. A stack of books on the coffee table hints at your eclectic tastes, while a vibrant bouquet of fresh flowers adds a touch of elegance and freshness to the room.

You guide Joel to the kitchen, where he takes a seat at the island, a central hub of domestic activity. You head to the refrigerator, pulling out a couple of beers. "Drink?" you ask, holding one out for him.

You watch as Joel's eyes flicker with a hint of surprise, perhaps at the contrast between the expected glass of wine and the down-to-earth beer in your hand. "Didn't take ya for a beer girl," he comments, a playful challenge in his tone.

You let out a small giggle, the sound mingling with the clink of bottles. "My parents are the wine connoisseurs," you explain, rolling your eyes good-naturedly. "I keep beer on hand just to stir the pot. They turn their noses up at it, call it a 'poor man's drink,' but I love the simplicity. No need for fancy glasses or decanting—just open and enjoy." You twist off the cap and take a sip, your expression one of contentment. "It's my little rebellion."

Joel can’t help but smirk as he sips his beer. You lift your drink and take a refreshing sip before you set it gently on the counter. Turning your attention back to the stove, you tend to the sauce, stirring with a practiced hand, the rich aroma filling the kitchen and mingling with the yeasty scent of the beer.

Joel takes a long drink from his beer, the bottle cool against his lips as he watches you move gracefully around the kitchen. He's a sweet man, the kind who would offer the shirt off his back without a second thought. Yet, beneath that kindness lies a deep-seated longing—a desire to find someone like you to make his wife, to be the heart of his home.

As he observes you, his mind begins to weave elaborate fantasies. He imagines himself returning from a grueling day of battling flames, the anticipation building as he envisions you waiting for him in your charming sundress and apron, bent over as you retrieve dinner from the oven. In his mind's eye, you're sans panties, a detail that sends a thrill through him.

His pants begin to stir with this thought, an involuntary twitch that betrays his growing arousal. The fantasy escalates; he sees himself approaching you from behind with his erection straining against the fabric of his jeans. He imagines grabbing your hips and plunging into you with one swift motion, filling you completely as your moans of pleasure echo in his ears. The scenario is tantalizingly vivid, and it fuels the hardening of his cock, which now presses urgently against his denim confines.

The fantasy lingers too long—a delicious torment that has him shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He takes another swig of beer in hopes of quelling the fire that burns within him, all while keeping his gaze fixed on you.

You're oblivious to the storm of desire raging across from you as you stir the sauce on the stove and speak over the hum of the fan. Your voice is soft and inviting when you apologize for the noise and offer Joel another beer from the fridge—a gesture so simple yet so full of warmth.

Then it happens; as if by some unspoken cue in this erotic dance between reality and fantasy, you bend down to take out the garlic bread you've prepared. The hem of your sundress lifts just enough for Joel to catch sight of what he's been imagining; no panties—a confirmation that sets his heart racing and sends a jolt straight to his groin.

"Shit..." he murmurs under his breath while subtly trying to adjust himself in an attempt to conceal his burgeoning erection beneath the tablecloth draped over your dining table. "Mind if I use your restroom?" Joel asks hurriedly, striving for normalcy despite feeling anything but normal at this moment.

You turn around with a smile that lights up your face like a sunrise over calm waters—warm and welcoming without even realizing how much more fuel it adds to Joel's fiery imagination. “Of course, just down the hall, first door on the left."

"Thanks," Joel manages to say, his voice betraying a hint of awkwardness as he rises from his chair. He quickly exits the kitchen, his steps hurried as he makes his way toward the sanctuary of the bathroom. The door closes behind him, and in the privacy of this small space, he allows himself to feel the full extent of his arousal.

His hands find the cool wall in front of him, bracing himself as he tries to regain control over his body's reactions. But it's no use; the image of you, the fleeting glimpse of your naked flesh beneath that sundress, has ignited a fire within him that only one thing can quench.

With trembling hands, Joel releases his cock from the confines of his jeans and boxers, letting them fall to the floor. His fingers wrap around his length while his other hand presses against the wall for support. His thumb caresses his balls as he closes his eyes and loses himself in the fantasy of being inside you—your warmth enveloping him completely.

The sensation is overwhelming; with each stroke, he imagines himself thrusting into your wet cunt, feeling your body yield to him as pleasure courses through both of you. His breath hitches as he pictures your inner thighs slick against his hard cock, an image so vivid it feels like reality rather than mere fantasy.

His rhythm quickens; the sound of his heavy breathing fills the room as he chases release—a necessary escape from this fevered dream that has taken hold of him. With a final groan Joel reaches climax, spilling himself onto his hand in hot spurts while images of you dance before his closed eyes.

Once spent and with control regained, Joel cleans up and takes a moment to compose himself before stepping out into the hallway once more.

He reenters the kitchen with cautious steps; taking in every detail anew: how your hair sways gently with each movement; how gracefully you navigate around your own space; how utterly captivating you are without even trying to be so. Like an intoxicating drug coursing through Joel's veins—a potent mix that leaves him craving more.

You pivot gracefully, two plates cradled in your hands, their contents a testament to your culinary prowess. As you sit down beside Joel, he watches you with an intensity that borders on reverence. Every subtle movement of your hair, every shift of your body captivates him utterly. It's as though he's discovered a newfound addiction, one that courses through his veins and leaves him yearning for more—more of your presence, more of this warmth that seems to radiate from you effortlessly.

The scent of garlic wafts through the air, mingling with the aroma of freshly baked bread and homemade sauce. It's a comforting symphony of scents that causes Joel's mouth to water in anticipation.

"Hope it's good," you say with a hint of modesty in your voice, "sorry it's nothing more interesting."

Joel shakes his head emphatically after taking his first bite of pasta. "It's perfect," he assures you, his words genuine and heartfelt. "I honestly can't remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal like this. It's delicious—quite the step up from frozen pizza."

Your smile is radiant as you accept his compliment with grace. "Well, honestly," you reply with a light laugh, "I'll be repaying you for a lifetime for finding this ring for me. Come by anytime you're in the neighborhood."

"Funny thing," Joel responds between bites, "I only live a few blocks from here, down on Anderson." This revelation sparks an animated conversation between the two of you—a sharing of stories and dreams that flows as easily as the beer in your bottles. You talk about everything: work and family; friends and interests, and even your favorite bad movies that are so terrible they loop back around to being entertaining again.

After a few hours filled with laughter and learning about each other over drinks the camaraderie between you is palpable as you prepare to introduce Joel to what is perhaps one of the most delightfully awful films ever made—a movie so bad it transcends its own terribleness into something truly special.

"I can't believe you haven't seen it yet! We have to watch it; I'm putting it on right now! It's the best worst movie there ever is or ever will be." Your enthusiasm is infectious; even if Joel has his doubts about such bold claims regarding cinematic quality or lack thereof, he can't help but be drawn into your excitement.

“That's a serious claim, dunno if I believe it." Joel's words carry a playful skepticism as he raises an eyebrow at you, clearly intrigued by your passionate endorsement of the movie.

"Trust me!" You reply with an infectious enthusiasm that lights up your entire face. "You'll never want it to end." Your conviction is unshakeable, and there's a sparkle in your eyes that speaks volumes about the joy you find in sharing this guilty pleasure with someone else.

With a swift, almost eager motion, you spring up from your seat and make your way to the couch, a well-loved blanket clutched in your hands. You turn to look at Joel, patting the spot on the couch next to you with a warm, inviting smile that seems to brighten the entire room.

"I can't in good faith let you leave until you've at least seen this movie," you tell him, your tone half-joking, half-serious. It's a playful challenge, one that Joel readily accepts with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He rises from his chair, crossing the short distance to join you on the couch. As he settles in beside you, the cushions dip under his weight, bringing the two of you closer together. You can't help but smile as you pull the blanket over both of you, a cozy shield against the outside world.

The movie's opening credits roll across the screen, but Joel's attention is divided. He's acutely aware of your presence beside him—the warmth of your body, the soft rhythm of your breathing, and the intoxicating scent of vanilla and coconut that seems to envelop you both. As you snuggle into him, resting your head on his arm, Joel feels a surge of desire tempered by a wave of uncertainty.

His mind races with images of you—bent over, moaning beneath him, your body tightening around him as he imagines himself thrusting deep inside you. The fantasy is so vivid that it takes all his self-control not to act on the impulses that course through him. But then you shift closer to him, nestling into the crook of his arm with a contented sigh that makes his heart skip a beat.

Joel's arm hovers in the air for a moment before he gathers the courage to wrap it around your shoulders. The gesture feels natural yet charged with an electricity that hums just beneath the surface. You respond by snuggling even closer, your arms encircling his torso in a silent embrace that sends shivers down his spine.

This newfound intimacy is both exhilarating and comforting for Joel; it's as if he's found a sanctuary in the warmth of your embrace—a safe haven from the tumultuous desires that wage war within him. His heart rate begins to slow as he holds you gently but firmly against him, savoring the softness of your skin and the trust implicit in this quiet cuddle on the couch.

The thought of kissing you crosses Joel's mind more than once. Your lips look so inviting—soft and sweet like ripe fruit just waiting to be tasted. He imagines what it would be like to close the distance between you two; to feel those lips yield under his own; to explore every single curve and contour with an urgency born from longing and restraint.

But despite this overwhelming temptation, Joel remains cautious—mindful not to scare you away with his crippling desire.

As the movie plays out, Joel's thoughts drift further away from the screen. The plot, the characters, the absurdity of it all—none of it can hold a candle to the vivid fantasies that dance through his mind. The desire that has been simmering beneath the surface since he first walked through your door now threatens to boil over, fueled by every innocent touch and shared laugh under the soft glow of your living room.

His cock twitches with a life of its own, straining against the fabric of his jeans as the images of you flood his senses. He imagines cupping your breasts in his hands, feeling their weight and warmth; tracing the contours of your neck with his tongue before capturing your lips in a searing kiss; teasing your nipples with his teeth until they're as hard as the erection that throbs insistently beneath the blanket.

The need for release is overwhelming, and despite his best efforts to remain still and composed, Joel's arousal is becoming increasingly difficult to conceal. The blanket tented above his groin is a clear indication of his body's betrayal—a beacon signaling his unspoken desire for you.

He holds his breath, praying that you won't shift your hand any lower lest you discover just how much he's struggling to maintain control. But what Joel doesn't realize is that you've already noticed—it would be impossible not to with such an obvious bulge pressing against the fabric that separates skin from skin.

The knowledge that you are aware of his predicament only serves to heighten Joel's arousal. And then, without warning, you move—your hand grazing the top of his thigh before inching higher and higher still until it hovers just below where he needs it most.

Joel gasps as you begin to palm him through the denim barrier. Each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through him. His moan is soft but audible in the quiet room; a testament to how much he craves your touch—how much he craves you.

As you continue to explore the contours of Joel's body with your touch, he feels a shiver run down his spine, a visceral reaction to the electricity that seems to arc between you two. The desire that has been building within him since he first stepped into your home now threatens to consume him entirely. He aches for you—for the taste of your lips, the softness of your skin, the warmth of your embrace. Every moment in your presence only fans the flames of his longing, and he finds himself teetering on the edge of restraint.

Your hand glides over his thigh, each stroke sending jolts of pleasure through him. His cock strains against the confines of his jeans, a testament to how much he wants you—how much he needs you. His breath hitches in his throat as he fights to maintain some semblance of control, but it's a battle he's losing quickly.

You see Joel's eyes flutter shut, a silent admission of how deeply your touch affects him. The evidence of his arousal is plain to see beneath the blanket that does little to hide his desire for you. His grip on reality—and perhaps more importantly, on the couch cushions—tightens as he struggles against the tide of yearning that threatens to sweep him away.

But you have no intention of letting this moment pass by unexplored. With deliberate intent, you move your hand higher still until it grazes the head of his cock through the denim that separates you. The sound that escapes from Joel is part sigh, part plea—a clear indication that his control is hanging by a thread.

In one swift motion, Joel captures your wrist, halting your movements and drawing your attention back to him. His eyes are dark with need as they lock onto yours; there's an unspoken question lingering in their depths—a question that hangs between you both like an invisible thread.

You give Joel a small nod, granting him silent permission to explore his desires. Without missing a beat, he leans in, his lips brushing against the tender skin of your neck. He lingers at your pulse point, his gentle suction sending waves of pleasure through you. His hand finds your thigh, caressing it with an up-and-down motion that makes your legs tremble with anticipation.

A soft whimper escapes you, and you bite down on your bottom lip in an effort to stifle the urge to scream out his name. Joel's fingers trace a path under your dress, moving upward with agonizing slowness. His smile broadens as he feels the warmth of your flesh beneath his fingertips.

He carefully lifts your dress off your body, casting it aside in one fluid motion, leaving you completely exposed and naked before him. Standing up, you take his hand and lead him towards the stairs that ascend to your bed. Joel is taken aback by your assertiveness—it's not what he expected from you—but his surprise quickly gives way to desire. All that matters is that he wants you, needs you. So he follows without question as you guide him upstairs to the intimacy of your bedroom.

You walk backward towards the center of the room, drawing Joel along with you. You gaze into his eyes and see pure desire shining back at you—a look that matches the yearning within yourself. In this moment, there's no room for doubt or hesitation; there's only the two of you.

In the dimly lit room, the air is thick with anticipation, each breath you take laced with the scent of desire. Joel stands before you, his silhouette a study in masculine beauty against the soft glow of the room. With a measured pace, he grasps the hem of his shirt, the fabric straining against the defined muscles of his body. As he lifts it over his head, the light dances across his tanned skin, highlighting the rugged contours of his chest and the salt-and-pepper dusting of his happy trail.

The sight of his broad shoulders and the solid expanse of his chest leaves you momentarily breathless. His physique is a canvas of hard work and dedication, each muscle carved from years of physical exertion. The soft dusting of hair trails down his toned stomach, leading your gaze to the waistband of his pants.

With a swift, almost impatient motion, he frees himself from the last of his clothing. His movements are a symphony of strength and grace, and as his pants slide down his powerful thighs, you catch your first glimpse of his manhood. His cock stands proud and erect, a beacon of his arousal, the skin stretched taut and flushed with the heat of his desire.

The sight of him—unabashedly naked and utterly desirable—sends a jolt of heat straight to your core. His cock is a testament to his masculinity; thick, with a defined shape that beckons your touch. A bead of moisture glistens at the tip, a clear sign of his readiness, and you can't help but imagine the warmth of his skin against your palm, the weight of him in your hand.

Joel's cock is a marvel of male anatomy, the veins tracing intricate patterns along its length, pulsing. It's a sight that is both primal and beautiful, the very essence of his maleness on display just for you. The coarse hair at the base only serves to accentuate its impressive girth, and you find yourself drawn to him, eager to explore every inch of his rugged, manly form.

As Joel hovers over you, his gaze rakes over your body with an intensity that sets your skin ablaze. He drinks in the sight of you, his appreciation evident in the hunger that darkens his eyes.

He takes a moment to explore, his rough palms gently cupping the softness of your curves, his thumbs teasing your hardening nipples. The contrast of his rugged hands against your delicate skin sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, and a soft moan escapes your lips, encouraging him to continue his sensual exploration.

You feel the weight of his body as he settles between your thighs. The coarse hair of his happy trail brushes against your sensitive skin. With a reverence that makes your heart flutter, he lowers his head, his lips tracing a path from your navel to the soft curve of your breast, his breath hot against your skin.

As Joel lifts himself, the muscles in his arms and shoulders ripple with the movement, casting enticing shadows across his skin. He leans over you once more, his gaze filled with a mix of adoration and unbridled lust. His lips trail a scorching path down your stomach, each kiss a tender promise that sends shivers of anticipation through you.

You arch your back, your body instinctively responding to his touch. Your breath hitches as he reaches the delicate juncture of your thighs, his tongue darting out to taste you. He licks and nips at the sensitive skin along your inner thighs, each touch of his mouth stoking the fire within you.

A smirk plays on Joel's lips as he reaches your clit, a knowing glint in his eyes that tells you he's fully aware of the power he holds over you in this moment. With exquisite tenderness, he flicks his tongue over the engorged bundle of nerves, each lick sending jolts of pleasure radiating through your body. You squirm beneath him, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you.

His fingers part your folds, exposing you fully to his ministrations. He thrusts his tongue into you, exploring your depths with a hunger that leaves you gasping for air. His movements are deliberate and skilled—circling, probing, and sucking in just the right way to make your clit twitch erratically with need.

Joel's own excitement is palpable; with each moan that escapes your lips, his cock grows impossibly harder. The sight of him so turned on by pleasuring you only adds to the intensity of the moment.

As he continues to suck and flick his tongue around your glistening cunt , you can't help but voice your pleasure loudly, the sound echoing off the walls of the room. You push yourself further up the mattress, seeking friction against his relentless tongue as you chase the elusive wave of your orgasm.

"I'm gonna come," you pant out between ragged breaths, "please don't stop." Your world narrows down to the feeling of his tongue against your clit—a maddening rhythm.

As the words tumble from your lips, Joel's eyes flash with a primal hunger, and he knows that you're on the brink. He redoubles his efforts, his tongue working with a renewed fervor as he hears the desperation in your voice.

"That's it, such a good girl," Joel growls against your sensitive flesh, his voice rough with desire. "You're so fucking beautiful.”

Just as you're about to cum Joel pulls away and Joel's dominance takes center stage. He looms over you. His eyes are dark with desire, and there's a wicked glint in them that promises an escalation of pleasure and intensity.

"You like that, don't ya?" he rasps, his voice thick with lust. "Feelin’ my tongue on your wet cunt, makin’ you squirm and beg." He punctuates each word with a roll of his hips, his cock rubbing against your sensitive flesh in a way that makes your breath hitch in your throat.

"Yes," you admit breathlessly, the admission spilling from your lips without hesitation. You're past the point of being coy or reserved.

He grabs your wrists with one hand, pinning them above your head as he leans down to whisper in your ear. "I'm gonna make you scream my name until all your neighbors know exactly who owns this tight little pussy. "You're mine," he asserts, his voice a possessive rumble in your ear. "This little pussy is mine to fuck, mine to pleasure, mine to own.”

The raw intensity of Joel's words sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. His dominance is a potent aphrodisiac, stoking the fire within you to a fever pitch. You're helpless against the onslaught of sensations—the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress, the feel of his calloused hands restraining your wrists, the heat of his breath against your ear.

"Say it," he commands, his voice a low growl that resonates with authority. "Tell who this pussy belongs to."

"It's yours," you gasp, the words spilling from your lips in a rush of submission. "All yours, Joel."

A satisfied smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he releases your wrists, only to grip your hips with both hands. He positions himself at your entrance, the blunt head of his cock nudging against your slick folds. The anticipation is almost unbearable; you can feel every ridge and vein of his impressive girth as he teases you with shallow thrusts, barely breaching your opening.

"Please," you beg, your voice laced with desperation. "I need you inside me."

With a grunt of approval, Joel gives in to your pleas, driving his cock into you with one powerful thrust. The sensation of being filled so completely takes your breath away, a mix of pain and pleasure that leaves you gasping for air. He doesn't give you time to adjust to his size, instead setting a relentless pace that has your body arching off the bed with each forceful stroke.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Your pussy feels like heaven wrapped around my cock baby."

You can't form coherent words anymore; all that escapes your lips are inarticulate cries of pleasure as Joel claims your body with an intensity that leaves you breathless. His hips snap against yours, the sound of skin on skin echoing in the room, punctuated by your desperate moans and his low, guttural grunts.

As he continues to fuck you with wild abandon, you can feel the familiar tightening in your core, a sign that your orgasm is imminent. Your inner walls flutter around his cock, gripping him tightly as he plunges in and out of your soaked pussy.

As the intensity of your shared passion builds, Joel's gaze locks onto yours, his eyes dark with desire and command. "Look at me," he orders, his voice a low, insistent growl that cuts through the haze of pleasure clouding your senses. "Wanna see you when you come for me."

Your eyes meet his, and in that moment, something profound passes between you. It's as if he's reaching into the very depths of your soul, claiming not just your body but every part of you.

With each powerful thrust, Joel drives you closer to the edge of ecstasy. The sight of him above you—his muscles straining with exertion, his skin slick with sweat, and his eyes burning into yours—is more than you can bear. You feel yourself teetering on the brink, a prisoner to the exquisite torment that is building within your core.

"That's it," Joel encourages, his voice ragged with need. "Come on, baby. I gotcha."

As you surrender to the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body, your orgasm takes hold, and you can't help but cry out his name. The sound of it reverberates through the room, a testament to the raw, unfiltered pleasure that Joel has coaxed from your very core.

In the midst of your climax, with your body trembling beneath him, Joel's voice breaks through the fog of ecstasy. "So damn beautiful when you come," he murmurs. "Seein’ you like this, feelin’ you tighten ‘round me—it's the most beautiful thing I've ever witnessed."

His praise washes over you, amplifying the intensity of your orgasm. The knowledge that he finds you beautiful in this unguarded moment of pleasure adds a new dimension to the experience—a sense of being cherished and admired that goes beyond the physical.

The combination of his words and the relentless rhythm of his hips proves too much for Joel to withstand. With a final, powerful thrust, he reaches his own peak, his body shuddering as he empties himself inside you. His groans of release mingle with your cries of pleasure, creating a symphony of shared ecstasy that fills the room.

Joel's laughter suddenly fills the room, a warm, hearty sound that wraps around you like a comforting blanket. He pulls you close, his arm a secure band around your waist as he tucks you into his side. You can't help but smile, your heart fluttering in your chest as you press your face against the solid wall of his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat is a soothing counterpoint to your own rapid pulse and heavy breathing.

The reality of tonight's events still feels surreal to you. Here you are, nestled in the sanctuary of your bed, with a man who has managed to ignite a fire within you that you didn't even know existed. The thought flickers through your mind that this is something transient, something that might not be meant to last. But in this moment, none of that matters. All that matters is the connection between you and Joel—a connection that feels as real and as solid as anything you've ever known.

After several moments of comfortable silence, Joel's voice breaks through the quietude of the room. "That was perfect," he says, his words laced with genuine admiration and wonder. You can't help but giggle at his enthusiasm—it mirrors the joy bubbling up inside of you. Turning in his embrace, you find yourself lost in his deep brown eyes—eyes that seem to see right through to your very soul.

Leaning in, he captures your lips in a kiss that is both tender and passionate—a slow, sweet melding that sends shivers down your spine and makes your lips tingle with delight. You part your lips slightly, granting him deeper access as his tongue sweeps against yours in an intimate dance that leaves you breathless and yearning for more.

His hand finds its way into your hair, fingers gently tangling in the strands as he cradles your head with surprising gentleness for someone with such strong hands. Every touch feels electric—each caress igniting sparks beneath your skin until it seems like there's nothing else but this perfect moment suspended in time.

As the kiss comes to a gentle close, Joel pulls back just enough to gaze into your eyes, his own reflecting a mix of satisfaction and reluctance. His attention shifts momentarily to the alarm clock on your nightstand, its glowing digits announcing the arrival of midnight.

"Fuck," he sighs, the word a soft exhalation against your lips. "As much as I'd love to stay here with you, I really gotta head home and try to get a few hours of sleep.”

You offer him a smile that's both understanding and a little wistful, nodding your head in silent agreement. Leaning in, you initiate one last kiss—a sweet, lingering press of your lips against his.

"Guess it's true what they say," you murmur, your voice soft yet teasing, "heroes never rest. Go on, Mr. Fireman, get some sleep. But do me a favor and text me when you get home. I need to know you made it safely and weren't murdered on the way.”

Joel's chuckle is warm and genuine as he cups your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your cheekbones in a tender farewell. "I wouldn't dream of leavin’ ya worried," he assures you before capturing your lips in one final kiss.

With a reluctant groan, he extricates himself from the tangle of limbs and bedding, rising from the bed. You watch him dress, the moonlight casting shadows across his toned body, and you can't help but appreciate the sight of him—a man who embodies strength, courage, and unexpected tenderness.

Once he's fully clothed, Joel turns to you one last time, his eyes drinking in the sight of you lying there amidst the rumpled sheets. "I'll see you soon, pretty girl," he says, his voice filled with quiet determination. And then, with a final wave, he's gone—leaving you with the lingering scent of his cologne and the memory of his touch to keep you company through the night.

True to his word, your phone buzzes a short while later, the screen lighting up with a message from Joel

Made it home safe and sound. No murderers lurking in the shadows tonight. Sweet dreams, beautiful. I'll be thinking of you.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader

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sugurugetofavoritemonkey · 26 days ago

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Hii girl since you said requests are open I was thinking about reader who loves to get Ethan hard in the most random situations, maybe while they're with friends or in class.

Ps: I love your writing

A/N : Hii ! 🩷 Thank you so so so much for liking my writing and sending me this fabulous request for our boy Ethan, it means a lot to me and I had so much fun writing this 🥰 Please send me your feedback to let me know how I did, it always helps me improve and I hope you’ll like it. Don’t hesitate to send me other requests for our lovely Ethan, love you and enjoy ! ✨

Reader who loves to get Ethan hard in the most random situations.

❦ When Ethan Landry is in love, anything can make him blush and get him hard, really just a kiss or a hug is already enough for him to want you and it annoys Ethan so much to be this weak for you. You could simply be looking at him with doe eyes and a pretty smile while he rambles about his day and the poor sweet boy would avert his eyes from you as he feels his cheeks warming up. Taking his hand in yours in the corridors, to intertwine your fingers, also works very well, Ethan doesn’t mind it, he loves it even, but he’s not used to receiving such affection, just like he’s not used to you complimenting him, as you softly murmur against his lips that he’s « so pretty » while you gently caress his face.

❦ Making out with your boyfriend in front of your friends, your lips pressing kisses on his jaw and neck literally makes Ethan’s head spin as he doesn’t know how to react between completely surrendering himself to you or keeping a straight face in front of Chad and the others.

❦ But obviously, what works best is just letting your hand wander up his thigh under the table and slightly brushing the outline of his cock that’s covered by his jeans that keep getting too tight to his liking, Ethan’s breathing becoming heavy while you act so innocently in front of the others as you all eat.

❦ Sending hot texts to Ethan during classes. That could go from nudes that force him to go to the restroom to take care of his hard-on, to just teasing him. « Do you think this table is sturdy enough for you to take me, Ethan ? », your boyfriend’s eyes are entirely focused on your text as he swallows with difficulty at the fantasy of taking you right here.

❦ Whispering dirty things in his ear while Ethan is in a conversation to make him lose his mind. The poor man doesn’t even know what he was saying seconds ago, as only stutters come out of his mouth now that your lips describe the sinful things that you would like him to do to you.

❦ Making sure you wear the sexiest and prettiest panties under a cute short skirt. And whoops what a strange coincidence, you have to bend down in front of your innocent boyfriend so Ethan can, by chance, catch a glimpse of the pink lace material. Though, Ethan will make sure he’s the only one to see that gorgeous sight, by correctly putting back in its place your skirt behind you when you stand up. What also really works to get him hard is gently asking him in the early morning if he can help you dress, when really Ethan perfectly knows that you can do it yourself. « Please baby, can you help me with the zipper of my dress ? » You bewitched Ethan in such a delicious way, that you can feel the way his fingertips shake a little as he slowly closes your dress.

❦ Considering that your boyfriend trusts you fully, he gave you his phone password ages ago. Little did he know that you would take this opportunity to set his new wallpaper with a quite revealing picture of yourself. At the sight of this, Ethan is debating whether to keep staring at it or to hold his phone pressed very close to his chest so that no one can look at it. « You really are a little minx, aren’t you ? », Ethan would corner you in the corridor as soon as he saw it.

❦ As Ethan helps you study, just like every evening, you make sure to sit on his lap as he explains to you the math exercises, wiggling your butt from time to time just to hear Ethan gasp behind you, his words cut by his own little moans and whines. « Did you u-understand everything ? », Ethan would ask in a stutter. « Yeah, thank you Ethan », you answered him as you kissed the corner of his mouth with a smile.

❦ Ethan reading a book on his own on a bench outside during lunch break as you go over to him with a sweet smile just to sit on his lap, resting your head on his shoulder and whispering in his ear. « What are you reading ? » Ethan doesn’t trust his voice and decides to show you the cover instead while his free hand tightens around your waist.

❦ Asking your boyfriend to accompany you when you go shopping for new sexy lingerie. Ethan shyly waits for you outside the fitting room as he hears you calling his name, hesitantly entering the cabin with you as you ask for his opinion. You slowly twirl around in front of him as his cheeks become red and Ethan knows that he won’t be able to hide his hard-on this time. « You like it ? », you ask him with an innocent smile. « I-I, fuck yes I do », Ethan mumbles as he doesn’t find the will to avert his eyes from your gorgeous body. « But don’t you think it’s a bit overpriced though ? », you ponder. Ethan is quick to make a decision for you, « Don’t care, I’ll buy it for you. »

❦ Watching a movie together at the cinema and there’s a random erotic scene appearing on screen as you ask Ethan in the most innocent tone. « Do you think we could do it ? ». And it’s enough for Ethan to lose his complete interest for the movie, his whole attention now entirely directed to the thought of him and you in the same position as the scene in front of his eyes. Ethan shifts in his seat as he prays for the movie to be over soon enough for him to show you how well he can make this scene come true, hell even in his car if he can’t wait to get back home.

❦ Asking Ethan in the middle of the night to help you sleep in his own way, as you whine sweetly into his ear to wake him up. « Please Ethan, can’t sleep, need you so bad… » Ethan rubs the tiredness out of his face as he takes you in his strong arms that create the most soothing embrace for you. The way you whined and wiggled in his hold was enough to feel Ethan’s hard-on press lightly against your tummy. « My poor baby…Need my help ? Want me so bad that you can’t sleep ? Don’t worry angel, I’m here. »

❦ Now, there’s just a subtle difference in how Ethan would react to this kind of teasing. And it’s simply linked with before and after he lost his virginity to his girlfriend.

❦ Before he made love to you for the first time, Ethan’s reaction would look innocent but really it’s just him trying not to look like a pervert that gets indecent dreams about his girlfriend almost every night and day. He would be a blushing mess that only tries to stop your hand as he fidgets a bit in his seat and stutters while looking elsewhere. « Please, s-stop it, sweetheart…That’s just m-mean… »

❦ After you both had sex for the first time, Ethan would obviously still get madly flustered at your teasing but he also knows that he’ll be able to get back at you when he has you alone for himself, as Ethan warns you about the possibilities which are now offered to him. « You do realize, love, that you’re gonna pay for this tonight, right ? » And Ethan never forgets about his little revenge as he let it all out on you, overstimulating or edging you, it depends on his mood but he, for sure, will tease you in bed as much as you did with him earlier that day. « Did I fuck the attitude out of you, angel ? »

💗 Ethan Landry Masterlist 💗

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httpsserene · 2 months ago

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𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬

˖♡ - ̗̀ ⇢ listened to heart to heart by mac demarco on repeat while doing this writing exercise at two a.m. happy reading, loves x

⌕ join taglist | upcoming chapters | table of contents ↻

lando snores when he sleeps on his back.

he doesn’t snore when he’s on his side, when the curve of his body cradles yours.

like this, his face nestles into the nape of your neck, nose and lips brushing the skin tenderly. his chest radiates warmth against your back, spilling through your skin and warming you from head to toe. he sacrifices the arm tucked under your head, knowing it’ll be dull with numbness come morning. his other arm drapes around your waist, his large hand splayed on the softness of your belly, drifting upward at some point in the night to hold the plushness of your chest.

the first morning you woke with his hand resting on your bosom, he murmured a sleepy explanation into your skin, feels nice. and, it was nothing more than that.

like this, the only sounds you hear are the snuffles of his breath, warm and fuzzy on your neck.

lando snores when he’s deeply asleep.

he doesn’t snore when he rests his eyes, when he leans onto any surface to nap.

like this, whether it’s a chair, couch, floor, table, or tire stack—if he can close his eyes for a few seconds, he’ll be unconscious within the minute. by far though, his favorite napping spot has to be you.

lando will seek you out for the pure purpose of shutting his eyes for a moment. he crawls into your arms with his eyes already closed and asks, put me to sleep?

you massage his scalp, nails scraping along his crown gently, untangling the curls that your fingers get caught in. your other hand scratches up and down the length of his back soothingly. you speak to him softly, about anything that comes to mind and if you’re lost for words, you hum.

he’s never down long enough to reach deep sleep. his body twitches with hypnic jerks as his sleep cycle begins.

like this, naps are when lando’s silent. he extends the length of his snooze session by not handing the team a map to his location, the marked path of his snores erased.

lando snores when he’s on his back and deeply asleep.

like this, he lies flat with you curled up to his side. your head rests on his chest, the steady beat of his heart amplified with your ear pressed close. his arm around your back anchors you to him. your arm lays across his torso and your leg hooks around his.

lando is called to sleep first, as always. there was a time where you were jealous of how quickly he drifts away but now, you fight unconsciousness to wait for him to reach a deep slumber.

because if you do, you’re rewarded with a snore. the sound is throaty and nasally, it rumbles through his chest and interrupts your focus on the pumping of his heart. aptly, you’d compare it to an idling engine.

snoring is annoying to most people, for good reason. it’s disruptive, loud, and if the repetitive noises prevented you from getting your own sleep, you’d have lost your mind already.

but to you, it’s proof that lando is resting well. that his sleep is restorative, that his body is recovering, that his immune system is strengthening, and that his worries and stressors are far from mind. so, you listen to him snore for a few minutes.

however, you don’t allow yourself to treasure the rumbles for long—long term snoring can lead to other risks later in life.

you don’t want snores to be the reason you aren’t allowed a lifetime with lando.

so, you slide off of his chest, huffing quietly as you strain to shift the limp weight of his prone body onto his side. it takes effort, eventually trapping him in the embrace of your arms, throwing your leg around his hip, and tucking his head under your chin.

like this, his snores taper off into nothingness and the little strength you had left to keep your eyelids open is diminished.

lando snores when he’s in your dreams. the raspiness of his exhales mimicked by your subconscious mind calms you. you are able to rest well knowing that he’s doing the same.

#lando norris x reader #f1 x reader #lando norris x black!reader #f1 x black!reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x yn #lando norris fluff #lando norris fic #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #f1 fic #serene’s chapters.#⋆⭒˚｡⋆. series special: formula 1 #♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: ln.

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bloomzone · 8 months ago

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HOW TO BE A MORNING PERSON !?

Becoming a morning person often involves gradually adjusting your routine and mindset. Here are some tips to help you become a morning person:

1. Establish a consistent sleep schedule: Aim to go to bed and wake up at the same time every day, even on weekends.

2. Create a calming bedtime routine: Wind down before bed with activities like reading, taking a warm bath, or practicing relaxation techniques.

3. Limit screen time before bed: Avoid screens such as smartphones, tablets, and computers at least an hour before bedtime, as the blue light can interfere with your sleep.

4. Avoid caffeine and heavy meals late in the day: Stimulants and large meals close to bedtime can disrupt your sleep patterns.

5. Get plenty of sunlight during the day: Exposure to natural light helps regulate your body's internal clock and can improve your sleep quality.

6. Exercise regularly: Engaging in regular physical activity can help you fall asleep faster and enjoy deeper sleep.

7. Gradually adjust your wake-up time: If you're used to waking up later, gradually set your alarm clock earlier by 15-30 minutes each day until you reach your desired wake-up time.

8. Have a motivating reason to wake up early: Whether it's starting your day with a favorite activity or setting goals to accomplish in the morning, having something to look forward to can make waking up early more appealing (skincare,workout,walk...)

9. Practice gratitude: Start your day with a positive mindset by reflecting on things you're grateful for, which can help set a positive tone for the day ahead.

10. Be patient with yourself: It may take some time for your body to adjust to a new sleep schedule, so be patient and consistent with your efforts.

#becoming that girl #glow up #wonyoungism #wonyoung #dream life #it girl #creator of my reality #divine feminine #it girl affirmations #love affirmations #affirmations #kpop moodboard #it girl energy #my melody #skincare #skincare routine

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saintobio · 10 months ago

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sincerely yours. (9)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after.

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+

tags/warnings. profanity, usage of alcohol, mentions of cheating, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationship, explicit smut

series masterlist -> episode ten

Satoru had a major problem.

And it was his self-control. His lack of self-control was the reason he had engaged himself in an adulterous relationship back when he was married. His lack of self-control was the reason why you had become the recipient of his unreasonable anger in the early stages of your marriage. His lack of self-control was the reason why, out of all the women in the world, he was now sleeping with a friend of yours. For God’s sake, his lack of self-control was probably the reason why you were also pushed to your limits, choosing to cut your marital ties with him and leaving only the scraps of his role as a parent to Sachiro.

Back when he was attending his weekly therapy sessions, his therapist told him that part of what he needed to learn was to control his impulses, resist temptations, and actively exercise his willpower. They were easier to achieve then than now, since he was the loneliest man at the time with no friends, no wife, no son, and no bustling company to run. His decisions remained untainted, his temptations unchallenged, his emotions uninfluenced—a solitary journey at its finest. He was all by himself. How come? It was because he was sent by his mom to Osaka to temporarily seclude him from his harrowing memories in Tokyo, compelling him to sever ties with the outside world and immerse solely in personal convalescence. Reflecting now, it felt no different than being sent to a psychiatric hospital.

He could say it worked at the time. He learned how to keep his emotions at bay. He learned how to control his thoughts, throwing away the bad and keeping only the good. He was a new man by the time he returned to Tokyo, prepared as ever to take on his role as the Chairman of the Gojou Group, ready to once again try and live a normal life. But the moment news had spread about his ex-wife's marriage to his business rival, all the self-control he had painstakingly cultivated seemed to have evaporated in an instant.

Everything also went downhill after that.

He wasn’t going to list down all of the things that happened nor the impact it had on him since you yourself were a witness to them. But if he was going to look at the way your return has changed the trajectory of his life 3 years after you first left, he would still at a hundred percent put all the blame on his shoulders. None of this domino effect would end up like this if he had been a faithful and loving husband in the first place. The pressure from his father was not the only root of all this, the branches also extended to his corporate greed which ultimately ruined his chance at a fruitful marriage with you.

But at least, the chaos should have settled by now. You chose to move forward and he decided to respect your decision by finding his way to another. This should free you both from the emotional torture that had you imprisoned in each other's cage for the longest time. He would still be there for you as the father of your child, but otherwise, he was happy that you had Toji Zen’in by your side to fill in the marital gaps that he had failed to complete.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips. The warm water fell on his body in rivulets, soaking him completely so early in the morning as he decided to take a long shower. For how long? He couldn’t tell. He could stay there for hours if need be. He had to let his mind wander on its own, with a hand pressed against the wall, and another stroking his white hair back. Despite accepting the fact that Toji now owned your love and affection… well, wasn’t that son of a gun too lucky? Did he even realize that the woman he would marry was once Satoru’s entire universe?

Ah, but who cares? Satoru scoffed inwardly, leaning his head back to let the water hit his face. He had Akemi, so why did it matter if you had Toji? He wasn’t bitter. He was just trying to reason with himself that you deserved to be with someone you really, truthfully loved. And he deserved that, too. Maybe not now, but at the perfect time, he could relive the life of a married man after learning from his mistakes the hard way. A much better one. A married man who would never in his life betray, hurt, or ruin his partner. A doting husband who would offer his whole life just to make her happy. He promised to himself that Akemi should have that kind of man from him.

Though, he could ask himself, how far was he from achieving that? He did practice his self-control last night when joined you in the pool—his face, inches away from you. Hand gripping your hip. Eye-to-eye. Skin-to-skin. Your warm breath fanning his cheek. Just another step forward and your lips would touch. But he didn’t let that happen. He mustered all of his power to pull back from the gravity that was drawing him closer to you. Still, he couldn’t deny that you looked absolutely gorgeous last night. As the moonlight illuminated your face, he could swear that the stars also sparkled on your eyes. They must be from the tears you were desperately holding back, but either way, you were still so goddamn beautiful. He almost couldn’t keep his eyes off you last night and had to distract himself from looking at your lips, your collarbone, your chest, your curves…

“Fuck.”

Talk about self-control.

Satoru had none of that right now. His body reacted involuntarily to the thought of you last night. The sensual thought of you. The what-ifs.

What if he had wrapped your legs around his waist and enveloped your lips into a passionate kiss?

He took a deep breath, still holding onto the wall as his other hand traveled to his growing member.

What if he had carried you all the way into the living room and laid you naked on the couch?

Closing his eyes, his hand started moving on its own, stroking his hardened cock and feeling every ridge as he pleasured himself.

What if you had let him devour you? Let him roll his tongue on your entrance and taste your sweet, sweet flesh?

Gojou let out a moan. A quiet yet desperate moan when he continued to jerk himself off faster and rougher. Damn it. He had to keep it low and he better not be heard committing such a sin in the bathroom. Although, he was confident that you were still sound asleep next to Sachiro in your bedroom, so he didn't think you would hear the noise he was making.

After all, it was shameless to know what was driving his feral thoughts right now. Thoughts of you letting him slide his tip along your entrance. Thoughts of him ramming his cock inside your tight cunt, being squeezed by your soft, velvet walls. Thoughts of your breasts bouncing wildly as he continued to hit your most sensitive spot. Fuck. Faster. He would have taken you on all fours, too. He would have let you ride his hardened shaft. He would have pressed you against the sofa and put your legs above his shoulders, letting you milk his cock with the tightness of your cunt. Satoru would release his warm seed into you in every position. He would shoot every drop of his cum straight to your womb, no doubt impregnating you for the second time around. He would absolutely love that. He would love seeing the residues of his wanton desire for you seeping out of your pussy. He would be at bliss watching your belly grow a few months after that, knowing that he had created yet another beautiful life inside of you.

“Y/N…”

Awakened by his senses, Satoru opened his eyes and saw the sticky white mess on his hand and on the wall. What the hell did he just do? More importantly, what the hell was he thinking of?

No one should know about that. Not you, not even Akemi. He didn’t cheat on her, no. He didn’t do anything with you. That shouldn’t be counted as cheating. He didn’t even touch you. And he wasn't even officially dating Akemi.

No, no…

Absolutely not.

Drowning into a pool of guilt, the first thing he did after that sinful shower session was to contact his supposed girlfriend not-girlfiend. And to make things even more awkward, you entered the kitchen in silence at the right time, carrying a sleepy Sachiro in your arms, unaware of the dilemma that was sending your ex-lover into a spiral.

“Morning,” he greeted almost inaudibly, clearing his throat and taking a sip of coffee afterwards. He had to think straight.

“Morning,” was your simple and oblivious reply as you went about your daily morning routine.

Gojou, on the other hand, was typing on his phone because Akemi wasn’t answering his FaceTime calls. He had completely forgotten to update her all day because he had been a little bit too occupied the moment he landed in America. She must be overthinking why he hadn’t reached out to her until now, and he felt extremely awful and responsible for that, but she couldn’t be fast asleep that early, right? It was 7:00 a.m. in New York, so that meant it was only 9:00 p.m. back home.

He nervously rang her number once more, mumbling a ‘please answer’ as he watched her caller ID appear on the screen.

“Dada,” called Sachiro, looking at him as his mother sat him on the high chair to prepare his breakfast.

Still holding his phone, Satoru walked to his son and placed a gentle kiss on his tiny forehead. “Morning, Sachi. Did you sleep well?”

The toddler nodded at him, drinking milk from the baby bottle that he was holding with both hands. His eyes were wide and blue—quite the same hues of blue that would remind you of a clear sky. Satoru couldn’t help but pinch his adorable son’s cheeks.

And while you were busy picking out food from the pantry, Akemi finally answered his call after the fourth attempt and showed her beautiful, soft features on the screen. His eyes immediately lit up at the sight of her. “Hey, how are you?”

He could tell she was still a bit distant and upset because of what happened two weeks ago, when she claimed to have heard him say your name during his sleep. He already made an excuse for it as he also didn’t know why he even did it in the first place, but Akemi was still understandably hurt. He couldn’t blame her.

“I’m fine, how are you?” she tiredly asked, seemingly heading towards her bed. “I just got home from work, that's why I wasn’t answering.”

He could see, in the corner of his eyes, that you were glancing at him but he didn’t return it. All of his focus was on Akemi, feeling bad that he hadn’t exactly been a good partner for her lately. Especially after the shit he just did in the shower this morning, but that was a secret that was meant to be buried. “Alright, did you have dinner already? It’s morning here so I’m having breakfast.”

She offered a small smile albeit the visible exhaustion on her eyes. “I did. How’s Sachiro doing?”

“You wanna see him?” He walked closer to his son, showing him on the screen as his big blue eyes stared at the woman on the other end of the line. “Sachi, say hi to Auntie ‘Kemi.”

“Hiii~” Sachiro happily greeted Akemi, while the latter cooed at the sight of his son. She spoke to him with a gentle and motherly tone, weaving warmth and love into her words. It made his heart full knowing that Akemi would wholeheartedly treat his child as her own, because if there was a slight possibility that she wouldn’t, she knew that Satoru would rather let her go. His child was still more important than any other woman. And so if his future partner couldn’t accept the fact that he had a child with his ex-wife, then they shouldn’t be in his life after all. The case was different with Akemi because she was already your friend and she had the chance to see Sachiro grow up before Gojou even knew his son existed at all. It was a bit complicated, but things turned out to be easier on the part of acceptance.

The only problem was you.

Because by the time the call ended, Satoru could tell that you weren’t in the best mood as you ate breakfast next to Sachiro in complete silence. Your eyebrows were curled into annoyance, and yet your eyes held sadness in them, an expression that had become difficult for him to fathom. Were you jealous of Akemi? He assumed you would say no, but your expressions showed otherwise.

“Y/N,” he called for your attention, hoping that you would look into his eyes for a little bit. Yet, not a chance did you do. “What’s our agenda for today?”

You seemed irritated, if anything. You refused to look at him as you gave a curt reply. “I communicated everything you needed to know via email. You should have checked it instead of letting Miwa do everything for you.”

Jeez. You were definitely angry. “Okay.” He cleared his throat once more. “I just asked in case there was a last minute change.”

“There isn’t. I would have said so if there is.”

“Right.”

Satoru didn’t know how to act in front of his ex-wife anymore. Now that he had seemed to ignite your pique, he chose not to say anything else further as you two finished your meals and cleaned up after yourselves. The only time he spoke again was when he offered to bathe Sachiro so that you could focus on yourself.

You agreed.

And he did his part.

It was simple give-and-take. A transactional relationship, if you must. Nothing else would blossom from that except your responsibilities as parents for Sachiro.

——

The New York trip was already as awkward as it was. And it only just started.

To be fair, it wouldn’t have been as uncomfortable if only Gojou had not decided to make it so. He was the one that made the atmosphere unpleasant by trying to savor every inch of closeness he could get to your skin, only to pull away as if nothing happened. As if he didn’t care about how it made you feel. He even had the audacity to lecture you on how to go about being good parents and setting a good example to Sachiro. Then suddenly, the next morning, he would act like such a loyal and caring partner to Akemi.

The thought of his loyalty made you scoff on the inside. He should be the absolute last one to be saying that. He should be the last one to profess how much of a loyal man he was trying to be to his new girl.

Besides, even before this trip was arranged, you had already made it clear on your mind that the sole purpose of going to New York was for Sachiro's sake. Any interaction outside the need to be there for your son would be unnecessary. He wasn’t someone you still needed in your own personal life nor did he need you in his. Your past relationship no longer mattered in this situation and all that was left was for it to be forgotten. But even with your resistance to be anything more than a parent to your son, Satoru still respected you. He still showed, even in little ways, that he cared about your comfort throughout the trip.

Five days had gone by, and everything you did in New York had been smooth sailing, all thanks to his grand number of connections across the USA. In a short amount of time, Sachiro’s surname had been legally changed, and everything else concerning his birth certificate had been corrected. The only issue left to address was your son’s nationality since Japan doesn’t permit dual citizenship and Sachiro would have to carry a Japanese citizenship and the Gojou name to be able to inherit his father’s assets and multinational conglomerate. You would leave that one up for Satoru to deal with, but everything else had been settled on your end.

Although this trip wasn’t exactly a vacation, Gojou insisted that you two still take Sachiro out to explore the city he grew up in. And you did so by going to Central Park, telling your ex-husband stories of how you used to bring Sachiro there in a stroller when he was still a little baby and that plenty of strangers, both locals or tourists, would coo at him the minute they took a peek at his adorable face. You also took him to the Empire State Building to get the best view of the entire New York City, and Satoru being Satoru couldn’t leave without taking a family photo with you and your son, capturing the beautiful urban cityscape behind you. You could see it in his eyes that even though he was happy to be there, he was also melancholic at the same time. Almost three years of his son’s life were spent in this famous city, without him, and it was as though the bitter memories of those three years for him were haunting him back. Sadness was reflecting off of his crystal blue eyes as he took a minute staring at the view of the city, reminding you that you were the reason why he had missed out on his baby’s first memories.

If guilt could literally eat you alive, you would have been devoured.

“Ready to go, Sachi?” Satoru asked your son, tucking his phone away after having (seemingly) sent Akemi a text message, probably updating her of where he was and what he was doing. In fact, he had been texting and calling her every now and then, as if he was doing his best to reassure her that he wasn’t doing any funny business with you. Has Akemi always been a possessive partner? Even with your years of friendship with her, she had never acted that way in her past relationship. So, was she only like that to Satoru specifically? You wondered if she would go nuts had she heard Satoru tell you how badly he wanted to make more babies with you on your first night here.

Sachiro nodded, clinging to your hand while reaching for his father’s. “Dada, hand pwease!”

Satoru did offer his hand, but mirrored the surprise on your face when your son tried to link your fingers together, urging you to hold each other's hands like a couple. You didn’t want to get too offended by it, but your ex-husband was the first one to pull away. “I, uh, made a reservation for us in Carbone,” he said, unable to exchange eye-contact, “Yuuta will meet us there.”

“Oh, he’s in New York?” you asked, pretending you didn’t notice how he acted allergic to your touch and redirected your attention to your son. “Did you hear that, Sachi? Uncle Yuuta will come and see you.”

Your little one was oblivious to the world, too distracted by the throng of people surrounding the place that he didn’t even notice how his parents were uneasy with each other. To say that you didn’t feel bad for your son was a lie, because it actually broke your heart. Even if you and Satoru were working on co-parenting and making sure Sachiro wouldn’t feel the gravity of a broken household, you knew that when he reached the right age, all of this would still have an effect on him. One day, he would still be asking questions about his parents. Questions about why you separated, why your marriage failed, and why you had to move to New York while his father stayed behind. It hurt. Deep inside, it hurt so much to know that your only son wasn’t given the chance to have a complete family and it felt like a failure on your part as his parent.

You were sure that was what Yuuta thought, too. As you met with him at a fancy restaurant in the city, you could see how his face lightened up seeing his nephew bonding with his parents as if it were a family vacation. He must have known what it was like to have a broken household. In fact, he had lived in a toxic one before, but he still grew up to be a mature and dignified young man who never let the horrors of his family’s actions affect his rational thinking. So if there was anyone in the world who would sympathize the most with Sachiro, it would be Yuuta.

“Sachi,” he spoke to your son fondly, wiping the sauce on the toddler’s chin. Yuuta chuckled as he watched the little boy's grimace after being given a small piece of broccoli. “You don’t like vegetables?”

You fixed the bib on your son’s neck. “He does, but he’s very picky with it,” you tell Yuuta, glancing at Satoru who was busy speaking on the phone with Nanami about what appeared to be matters concerning the company. “Wonder where he got it from.”

“Right.” Yuuta’s eyes turned into moon crescents as he smiled. “I remember nii-san being a little picky.”

“You hear that Sachi?” you teased your son, who looked at you with his cute puppy eyes. You knew that if you had the ability to peak through his toddler mind, it would actually be full of fried chicken. The thought made you laugh. “Don’t be like daddy, okay? Sachi needs to have his veggies so he’ll be strong when he grows up.”

“But…” Sachiro pointed to his father. “Dada is stwong.”

Satoru chimed in at the conversation after having finished the call, “That’s right, Dada’s strong. Mommy could barely even handle me.”

“Do you even know what we’re talking about?” You rolled your eyes, while Yuuta wanted to giggle, but chose to hold it back seeing the awkwardness of the situation.

Satoru shrugged and sat on his chair, eyeing the scrumptious dishes that were served to your table. He was acting like he hadn't been served more expensive meals before. “Have you tried the spicy rigatoni before? I heard it’s famous here.”

You casually answered. “Yes. Toji used to bring me here every time he visited.”

Look, you didn’t mean to overshare nor did you mean to make things even more awkward. You also didn’t mean to slap it in his face about how you were spending your years in New York with Toji. But Satoru, with his pride, took it resentfully.

“Oh, really?” His words were the opposite of his voice. He was mirthless and full of unenthusiasm before changing the topic, redirecting his attention to his step-brother instead. “How’s Harvard?”

Yuuta eased the tension by making small talk, sharing details about his university life, and making sure he didn’t contribute to the growing tension. “I’m really just trying to survive this semester so I can go back home as soon as I graduate.” After taking a sip of his Cabernet Blend, he continued, “Like I promised, I’ll help you with the company.”

You were happy, at least, to know that Satoru and Yuuta had fixed their relationship as step-brothers even after the whole incident with Nana, Eula, and their father. What used to be a relationship full of envy and competition finally became one that was full of mutual trust and support. Yuuta deserved that since he never once wished for his brother’s downfall, while Satoru also deserved to have a family member that had his back and helped him with the business without constantly fighting about inheritance. Because technically, Satoru was the sole heir of the Gojou family, and his dad only made it seem as though he would give it to Yuuta to make his own son comply with his orders. Satoru’s dad was controlling in that sense, and that was what led to all of this.

But the present was more important. Things have changed and mistakes have been learned. It was all up to you on how you were going to manage your new life moving forward.

Only, if only things were a little bit different on his side.

——

You had raised your son all by yourself for the last 3 years, so the presence of his father wasn’t really something you were used to for the longest time. How Sachiro acted around other people was solely a reflection of your teachings, discipline, and guidance as his mother. He didn’t really have a paternal figure up until now, and even if Toji was there to support your journey to motherhood, he never fully meddled with your mother-son relationship nor did he act like a replacement to Sachiro’s biological father. He loved him like his own, but respected the fact that the spot was reserved for Satoru. He knew that. He understood that, because he himself experienced raising a child alone without the presence of a mother. And if you asked him, he, too, would not want Megumi to replace the very love that he was supposed to have for his biological mom. Sure, Megumi could love and respect you, but Toji would still want him to save an unnegotiable spot for his mother in his heart. After all, she had birthed him. And in that same way, you had birthed Sachiro and created him with Satoru during your marriage. If there was anyone Sachiro should look up to, it had to be his father.

And quite frankly, the father himself was doing an excellent job.

But then again, remembering how hands-on Satoru was to you during your pregnancy, you never doubted that he would be a good parent. He may not be a perfect husband, but he loved his child with all of his heart and soul, and he would risk it all just to keep him happy.

It was new to you how, throughout the trip, you didn’t have to take care of Sachiro alone. You and Satoru helped each other harmoniously, attending to your toddler’s needs and making sure he was being prioritized. You were glad. Truly. You were grateful to see that he wasn’t an absent father and that his words weren’t empty when he promised you that he would be a responsible dad to him.

Though, at the back of your mind, you couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he welcomed another child in this world? A child that didn’t come from you? Deep inside, it hurt you to imagine him neglecting Sachiro on the side the minute he welcomed a new baby with Akemi. The reality was, the father would always prioritize the child of the current wife, not the child of the ex-wife. He would still support him, sure. But would he still pay the same level of attention that he was giving Sachiro now? You would probably break in half if Sachiro was thrown to the agonizing realm of feeling like an outsider in his own family because no child deserved that. If Satoru had that experience first-hand, he should not subject his own son to that same feeling.

You would be selfish to say this, but you wanted to seize the opportunity while Sachiro was still his only son. Hiding him from his father was your fault—you had gone through that a million times and you weren’t shy at holding yourself accountable through that mistake. However, you were already doing your best to make amends and make up for the years Sachiro had missed around his father. He was Satoru’s first and only child, and therefore he should never fight for his father’s affection. You weren’t sure what Satoru’s long term plans with Akemi were, but if they were considering having their own children someday, you would never allow your son to be pushed back at the bottom of the family tree.

Sachiro was the true first-born son of Satoru. He should never have to fight for his position in his father's eyes.

And so on the night of your flight back to Japan, when Satoru asked if he could take Sachiro with him for the rest of the week, you had no problems in saying yes. Your only wish right now was for them to spend as much time together as possible.

“Where are you taking him?” you did ask in spite of your leniency to send your son away, waiting inside the car as the pilot and crew prepared the private jet. “Please send me the full address. I need to know where he’s gonna stay and—”

“You’ll get the details from Miwa,” he casually said, rubbing Sachiro’s back as the little boy slept on his chest. He didn’t bother meeting your eyes as he talked. “I’m just taking him to my vacation home in Osaka.”

Osaka…

That was where his mother isolated him from the rest of the world when he was having terrible episodes. Episodes that worsened after he had found out that you ‘terminated’ his child and abandoned him for good. Shoko once said that they felt like Gojou disappeared from their lives while he was there, because nobody else could reach out to him. They couldn’t visit him nor could they contact him for a year or so until he was mentally ready to come back to Tokyo.

You didn’t want to pry on matters that were sensitive to him, so you chose not to say anything concerning his decision to take Sachiro to Osaka. He must have wanted to reflect on his past experiences, allowing him to heal from them as it brought him to the incommutable life he had now—life knowing that Sachiro actually existed after everything that he was made to believe.

“Please take good care of him, okay?” It was only a reminder, nothing else.

Satoru kept a straight face, nodding before he planted a kiss on his son’s forehead. “I got it from here.”

After a minute of silence, you both got out of the car and you watched him carry the peaceful Sachiro in his arms. You left the sleeping toddler a tender kiss on the cheek before parting ways. “I love you, my baby.” Stroking his hair, you kissed his tiny nose. “Mommy will see you soon.”

Satoru knew that you were staying behind. You had informed him of your plans before you even came here to the airport with him, explaining that Toji would be in Miami and that you had made arrangements to meet with your fiancé there. Satoru didn’t say anything much about it either, simply nodding his head at your decision and telling you to ‘do whatever’ because he was no longer a husband you should report your plans to. There was no hint of jealousy in his stance, but you couldn't miss the flicker of bitterness that did appear on his eyes for a millisecond.

You didn’t even say goodbye to each other as you watched them board the plane. And he didn’t even bother looking back at you to tell you to take care of yourself. Not that you expected anything from him, but a quick goodbye would have been nice since you did spend the last couple of days together. Or perhaps, he was upset about the fact that you were staying behind to meet Toji?

Either way, you were on your own now.

It took some time for you to reach Toji in Miami. He had insisted on meeting you at the airport, but because he had to meet with a foreign investor, you headed straight to the hotel he was staying at. Funny enough, you couldn’t help but compare how different it was to stay in the same accommodation as your fiancé vs with your ex-husband and son. With Toji, nothing felt uncomfortable and sharing a room as a couple was as normal as it should be, but things did feel too formal and too forced. With Satoru, it felt awkward to share the same space with him, but since your son was there, it felt like home. It felt strangely close to home, like it was only right. That staying together as a family was what your heart wanted.

Ever since Satoru went back to Japan with Sachiro, you had been feeling a wave of separation anxiety. Your mind was always left wandering towards them; how they were doing, where they were, what they had for dinner. You wondered if Sachiro was giving his father a headache. Smiling at the thought, perhaps he was giving Satoru a hard time changing his diapers.

“Everything okay?” Toji, noticing your trance, put an arm around you as you two sat at the VIP lounge of the Miami Grand Prix. This was Toji’s scene. If Satoru was a fan of horseback riding and polo, Toji preferred big time F1 races. He even personally knew the racers, the type of cars they were driving, and everything a huge fan had to know. You weren’t all that familiar with these things, so it was a little hard to keep up with his lifestyle.

“Y-Yeah, sorry,” you stammered, realizing how distracted you had been all this time. “What were you saying?”

He drank from his glass of 30 year-old Macallan, downing the liquor like it was mere water. A cloud of disappointment settled over his features. “Not interesting to you, huh?”

“No, I…” You made an effort to place a hand on his nape, giving him an apologetic peck on the lips. “I’m really sorry for zoning out. I was just… I guess I was just a little tired from New York.”

Toji placed a hand on your knee, sighing. “It’s fine. I was just trying to introduce the guys to you,” he said, scooting closer as he pointed to the racers. “You know that guy? Lewis Hamilton. He’s quite popular with the ladies,” then he moved his finger towards the other drivers, “And we got here for Ferrari, Carlos Sainz and Charles Leclerc, also fan favorites.”

Your eyes suddenly caught sight of Gojou’s favorite car brand. “Um, how about McLaren? Who drives for them?”

Unsure if Toji caught on or not, he did take a minute before feeding into your curiosity. “Norris and Piastri.”

You wished you had any idea about F1 so that you could be as enthusiastic as Toji was at this event. He was at his happiest right now and you didn’t want to ruin it by being a boring, uncultured fiancé, because frankly, all these women around would have done a better job at entertaining him. Toji was very eye-candy and you couldn’t blame these models from glancing up at him, especially with how manly and suave he was, dressed like a picture perfect example of an old money businessman. The likes of him were the prey of these desperate influencers, willing to sell their bodies in exchange for a night with him. But truth be told, that was their way of living and you could never find it in yourself to insult them. You didn’t want to shame them for attempting to climb the social ladder because that was how they view money and success, or at least a faster ticket to it.

As long as they didn’t try to make moves on your fiancé while you were around, you wouldn’t be so bothered by a few stares here and there.

Neither was Toji. He must have experienced being stared at during these events plenty of times before, and he probably even sent women home crying because of rejection or worse, humiliation. Now that you think of it, how did Megumi feel when his father was being hit on while watching the Grand Prix? Most importantly, why was the teenage son absent at this current event?

“Love, why didn’t you bring Megumi with you?” you inquired out of a sudden curiosity, knowing that Megumi was always present next to his father during F1 events.

Toji took a sip of the hard liquor once more. “He didn’t wanna go. He was giving me the silent treatment before I left for the US.”

Confusion further blanketed your eyes. “Did something happen back home?”

He let out a deep breath, his face signaling that he was deep in dilemma. “The Zen’in elders want to set him up for an arranged marriage,” he revealed, much to your surprise, “They wanna make sure he’s not gonna end up like me, married to someone who wasn’t ‘qualified’ to be my wife.”

At first you were confused if he was referring to you, but you realized that he was describing his late wife. Megumi’s own mother, the only woman Toji had ever loved by a mile. He fought everyone for her, even turned his back on his own family for her, but claimed that he also ultimately led her to her demise because the elders of his family harassed her until the day she died. It was a tragic love, perhaps even more tragic than yours, so you somehow understood why Toji was conflicted about Megumi’s personal life.

But you? You were strongly against it. “I don’t support arranged marriages, you know that,” you told him with conviction, sympathizing for the poor boy, “It’s not gonna end well. You know what happened to me…”

“I know.” Toji’s eyes were filled with regret. “I know, but there’s nothing I can do about it unless Megumi himself tells me he has someone he loves.”

“Did you ask?”

“He’s tight-lipped about it.”

You sighed. “Well, he’s a teenager. They get pretty shy about these things.”

Forcing a marriage was never a good thing. You couldn’t understand why the concept even existed because it didn’t benefit anyone aside from the people around the married couple. That was why they called it a marriage of convenience. They were married for everyone’s sake but themselves; family name, status, business… You have had enough of it. If only you realized it from the very beginning, you never would have subjected yourself to a loveless marriage with Satoru. Even if your love did grow eventually, things still didn’t work out for the best, and now your life was a mess. A divorced couple co-parenting their only son? There was obviously no convenience gained in that false marriage.

Megumi would just be wasting years of his life tied to a person he didn’t love and so you were hoping that Toji would fight for his son’s right. Because if he truly understood you, he would not subject his son to the same suffering you went through.

“I wish my wife was here,” mumbled Toji, forlornly, “She’d know how to handle these things better than I do.”

Were you not there for him? You swallowed your pride, hiding the pain in your voice. “Right…” A smile was all that you could offer. “I’m sure she would.”

——

Something was different about Toji and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

It wasn’t his appearance, and neither was it the way he spoke to you. He was all the same except for one thing; the look in his eyes.

He had told you this before. He said that the eyes carry the most truthful and raw emotion that you can see on someone. The presence of love would be visible in someone’s eyes just as you would see stars on a clear, night sky. The lack, however, would mean that the eyes are blank and empty like the dark void in the expanse of the universe. You didn’t have to be poetic to be able to discern the way his eyes communicated his most solemn feelings in spite of trying to show otherwise.

He must have been tired. Being caught up in your back-and-forths with your ex-husband, having to put up with your pretentious co-parenting situation, and the never ending need to keep an open mind about your situation with the same man who had ruined you. When your heart was in pieces, wasn’t he the one who tried to fix it? Wasn’t he the one who remained by your side during your darkest times?

Whether that may be true, whether he truly ever loved you, you could recognize the stark difference of the Toji that genuinely cared for you to the Toji that was only actively trying to be there for you. What had changed him all of a sudden?

“Toji, you drank a little too much.” A weary sigh escaped your lips, pulling all your might to drag your fiancé to lie comfortably in your shared bed later that night. At least, on the way to the hotel room, you had his bodyguards to thank for. They were there to haul him while he was in his drunken stupor, letting you lead the way, and dumping him carefully to his bed because there was no way you would be able to carry such a muscular man all by yourself. Now that you were alone with him, you decided to care for him the same way you used to do when Gojou was coming home drunk at night. Starting with his shoes that you took off, his shirt that you unbuttoned, his pants that you unzipped. “Come on, love. I’ll get you changed.”

The verdant hues of his eyes weren’t present. They were hiding behind his lids, refusing to meet your gaze. But if anything, he did open his mouth to speak, “...You. You wanna know a secret?”

Drunken words are sober thoughts, you reminded yourself. Of the numerous times Satoru had gotten drunk during the early stages of your marriage, it was how you found out that deep inside him, he did care for you. That in spite of his ill-tempered exterior, he was a man deprived of parental love and support. What would be the case for Toji, then?

“Yeah?” You waited for his answer, slipping his shirt off and revealing his toned body.

The scar on his mouth moved when he displayed a mirthless smile. He was as drunk as an alcoholic would be. “I don’t… think… I can love you the same way I loved my first wife.”

Your heart paused. In fact, every heartbeat became heavy. You knew how he felt, but didn’t expect him to say that out loud. “I-Is that so…?”

“Absolutely,” he mumbled, chuckling inaudibly. He was at a point where he was too far gone to realize the magnitude of the words he was saying to you. “Even if you try your best, she was everything I wanted in life and the only woman I could ever offer my heart to. She’s irreplaceable, and I don’t feel guilty about it... because I know you’re still into Satoru, too.”

“That’s…” You held your breath, holding back the sudden tears that formed in your eyes. “That’s not true.”

Toji wasn’t done yet, however. He still went on with his drunken speech like he was finally pouring out raw, yet hurtful words out of the bottle. “Who knows? You would’ve had him touch you back in New York if you didn’t have me. You would’ve had him impregnate you, have his second child with you, and guess what? He still won’t be loyal to you.”

The pain in your heart increased tenfold. Everything went still and every minute felt like a stab to your soul. Should you say something? Should you get angry at him? No, no you couldn’t. Your chest was tightening and you knew it was smart not to let such negative emotions overpower you. His words were just a little difficult to grasp because Toji never in his life had been callous with his words to you. The tears that fell from your eyes were from the betrayal that you felt after hearing the cruel words he had uttered. And yet, you tried to hold on to that thin string of hope that Toji’s words didn’t come from a place of truth.

“That’s enough, Toji. Go to sleep.” You pulled away, swallowing the bitter taste of weakness in your voice.

He hummed, unaware of the pain he had put you through. “The more I look at you, the more I realize how much I actually don’t want to spend my whole life with you,” he admitted, with little to no regard for your current feelings, “I can’t fill this emptiness by being with another empty soul. And if there’s one thing I’m most grateful for, it’s that I let you run away that day before I fulfilled my vows with you—”

“Enough!” You shot up from bed and wiped the flood of tears on your eyes. “Enough! I’ve heard everything you wanted me to hear, okay?! Enough!” you raised your voice in despair, almost begging for him to stop tearing your heart asunder. “I get it! I fucking get it… so enough. Please, Toji.”

Drunken words are sober thoughts.

A drunk mind speaks a sober heart.

Alcohol is a truth serum.

The revelation of Toji’s true feelings that night was a reminder to you that he was just like any other man. That you should have never put him in such a high regard, thinking that he would be the prince charming that would save the poor damsel in distress. Why? What would he benefit from someone like you? You only deluded yourself into thinking that a man like him would take a single mother so seriously. You were only meant to be a placeholder for his dead wife after all.

A placeholder, certainly. Not even deserving to have the title of a wife.

——

There was a huge contrast between being with you and Sachiro in New York vs being with Akemi and Sachiro in Osaka. The difference? There was no awkward air between Akemi and him. They were free to do things as they will—no restrictions, no certain do’s and don’ts. They were happy to have each other’s company, minus the guilt nor the unease of being by each other’s side. If anything, Satoru bitterly assumed that you were having the time of your life in Miami with Toji. You were so keen to see the man back there before parting ways with your ex-husband and son like you were simply discarding them to the side.

If so be it, then fine. Satoru had all the right to have his son all to himself while you were gone. Besides, Akemi was just one call away and she was everything he could ever ask for. She cared for Sachiro as if she was his own mother and Satoru couldn’t be more grateful that he didn’t need to work on building a bond between her and his son.

In fact, Akemi very much knew how to win Sachiro’s heart. As they took his adorable son to Universal Studios that day, she was nothing short of a caring mother. She had acted as a guardian to his son throughout the rides, letting the toddler enjoy his time at all the wonderful attractions that the theme park had to offer. Not once did his son cry too, so that only meant that they were doing a great job at taking care of him.

Of course, it was a different story in the afternoon. After having spent all of his energy during the day, Sachiro had become tired and hungry by dinner time. But he wasn’t such a difficult kid to tend to, so Satoru was proud that his son still wasn’t throwing a tantrum even after a whole day of not having you around.

“We’re gonna get Sachi fried chicken,” he enticed the pouting toddler, kissing his forehead while Akemi carried him in her arms. “Is that what you want?”

Sachiro nodded and wrapped his little arms around his auntie’s neck. “Chicken, dada.”

Akemi smiled at the child’s gesture, tempting her to also place a kiss on his cheek. “You’re so cute and well-behaved, Sachi.”

“—Satoru?”

At the familiar voice, all three of them turned to the woman standing behind like a deer caught in the headlines. She was tall for a woman, slender, and had long, auburn hair, rosy cheeks, and ivory skin. Next to her was a tattooed man with salmon pink hair, a piercing on his ear, and a very defensive stance. Ah… How timely.

Sera and Sukuna.

Satoru wasn’t sure if he should openly greet them, after all, they weren’t acquaintances. And it was only recent that he got his memories back, triggered by Sera's presence at the expo. Other than that, he had no business with the two of them. Sukuna wasn’t a business partner of his, so him and Satoru had no formal connection towards each other. As for Sera, she might be his ex-girlfriend, but they didn’t exactly have the healthiest relationship to begin with, so…

“Of all the places,” she mumbled, almost gaping at the sight of him. Her eyes then trailed off to Akemi and Sachiro, with which her expressions shifted to guilt. Did she recognize his son? Did she remember the horrible attempt she did to harm his child during his ex-wife’s pregnancy? The memory was flooding Satoru’s brain like a tsunami. Yeah, in that case, Sera should definitely be filled with guilt. She tried to kill this harmless child.

He cleared his throat, now becoming protective over his son at the presence of his ex. “We gotta go—”

“I guess it’s true,” Sera spoke again, this time redirecting her attention to Akemi. “The rumors, I mean. It’s all just surprising to me considering how obsessive Satoru was to Y/N.” She paused, seemingly wanting to comment at her ex-boyfriend’s current relationship in a mocking way. She kept her eyes on Akemi only, while Satoru was left wondering why Sera was acting hostile towards her. What was her deal now? She wasn't in the position to be acting all entitled to Gojou anymore, but here she was, talking to Akemi like she had met her before. “Did you know? He sacrificed everything for her. No one else made him beg on his knees the same way Y/N did.”

He couldn’t even tell how Akemi felt while Sera was clearly taunting her with her words, but she still managed to smile and excuse herself, keeping Sachiro away from an environment that should only be between adults. It was ridiculous, surely. What was Sera thinking trying to subject his son around that kind of hostility? Balling his fists, Satoru turned to Sukuna and spoke to him man-to-man. “You’d better keep your woman entertained so she’ll stop meddling into other people’s business.”

Sukuna, however, found the situation equally humorous. “Don’t worry. We both are entertained.”

Making a spectacle of Satoru’s personal life? No wonder they ended up together. They were both pieces of shit.

Before Satoru turned on his heels to follow Akemi, Sera still had one last thing to say to him. This time, she was more calm and less malicious—her eyes following Akemi’s trail before looking back at him, “Satoru, if you have truly grown as a man, you won’t do this to Y/N.”

——

Sachiro was fast asleep when they returned to the Gojou clan's vacation home.

Meanwhile, since the night was young for the two adults in that house, Akemi and Satoru shared a passionate session in the living room downstairs, letting her ride him as he placed soft kisses on her collarbone. They tried to keep quiet, obviously, and all the lights were turned off, leaving only the moonlight illuminating their view. After a few more minutes into their lovemaking, they eventually met their climax and tried to catch each other’s breath, embracing her in his arms as she fell limp against him.

“Satoru, I missed you a lot while you were gone.”

“...Same.”

Silence engulfed them for some time until she let out an exasperated sigh. It was clear in her facial expressions alone that she was pondering about the whole scene with Sera earlier. “That girl earlier, Sera, she—”

“Don’t mind her.” Gojou closed his eyes and leaned his head against the backrest. He knew he had to clear things up straightforwardly, leaving no room for any misunderstandings. “She just loves riling people up. It’s ironic she’s coming at Y/N’s defense now like she didn’t torment her back then. She’s not worth paying attention to.”

“Okay.” Akemi pulled away, cupping his face and stroking his cheek. She also offered him an angelic smile while doing so. “But you don’t feel that way anymore, right? For Y/N?”

Satoru took a deep breath, but steadied the movements of his chest. He felt defensive all of a sudden. “No.”

Her smile grew more relaxed as she pressed a light peck on his lips. “Right.” And for a while, they both stayed silent. His thoughts ran straight to you, while hers was quite on a different route. “Earlier when I put Sachiro to bed, he called me his mama.”

His eyes widened. “Oh… he did?”

She answered with a nod. “I don’t know if he’s just half asleep calling for his real mommy, but… At that moment, it made me realize how much I want to have my own,” she hinted at him, wistfully staring at his blue eyes with her shining ones, “with you.”

——

You didn’t take the flight back to Tokyo.

What you took was an immediate flight straight to Osaka where you knew your son and your ex-husband would be. You weren’t sure if it was due to the height of your emotions, but you surely let your impulse win the best of you this time.

You just wanted to escape. It was for the first time in your life where you were dying to set yourself free from Toji’s presence, the very same person who you once likened to a buoy in an open sea. Now he was no longer that. He was far from that. He was an anchor pulling you down at the deepest part of the ocean. Needless to say, the pain was still fresh from your heart when you took the earliest flight back home after his drunken confession to you.

Despite the many missed calls and texts and emails he had sent you, none of them were returned. None of them were seen, or read, or had been replied to.

All you wanted to do was get to your son. Your son. Your only comfort from all the painful things that the world has thrown at you. If not for Sachiro, you would have long ended yourself. But because he was born in this world, because he relied on his mother for love and guidance, you had to be strong and you had to seek the comfort in your heart from him.

They could all turn their backs on you, but never will your son do.

And so, after a few back-and-forth emails with Miwa to confirm the address of Satoru’s residence in Osaka, you ignored the jetlag that was hitting your body and traveled straight to his place without a wink of decent sleep. Sachiro. Sachiro was all you ever thought of when you asked your driver to drop you off the park nearby the Gojou clan's residence as soon as you spotted your son's mop of white hair, him running across the small bridge and pointing towards a fish in the pond. Your son was happily calling all the fishes, gushing about them to Satoru who stood next to him.

You didn’t even care at how you looked during that moment. You just wanted to get to your son and embrace him in your arms. He had been away from you for way too long and you had already grown pale and sick from the separation anxiety that engulfed your heart and mind.

You had to have your son. You had to hold him.

“Sachi!” you called out, a smile present on your face as you made your desperate way towards the bridge. Your son looked at you the moment he had heard your voice, and was already skipping towards you with a bright smile on his face. “My baby!”

Satoru’s face, on the other hand, turned pallid. His eyes were full of surprise, unable to believe that you were actually right in front of him. It was like he had seen a ghost. No, worse than a ghost. Why? Did he not expect you to come when he had let Miwa send the address to you? Were you not welcome to visit your own son?

“Mamaaa!” Sachiro hugged you tightly, allowing you to attack his cute face with kisses all over.

“Mommy missed you so much, my baby.” You could almost cry. As young as he was, he had no idea how much comfort he was bringing into your heart. Just to be able to see him, hold him, kiss him was enough for you to feel complete again. It was at your brokenness did you realize how much Sachiro could fix you whole.

“Y/N, I thought you…” Satoru paused, confusion seemed to be settling on his features as you looked up at him. “You’re supposed to be back by Monday.”

For a moment, you were reminded of the reason you came home earlier than intended and it stung your heart to think about. “Change of plans.”

A small scoff left his lips. “Don’t tell me you left Toji back there.”

I did, you wanted to say. Satoru had no single idea how true his words were, but that was none of his business and you had no plans of confiding in him about what had happened. You may be angry with Toji now, but you still respected him enough not to do terrible things behind his back.

“I had to see my son,” you lied, although it wasn’t exactly one, and got up while holding your toddler’s hand. “Are you ready to go home with mommy, Sachi?”

Reluctance clouded your son’s face, and he became more resolute at shaking his head the moment a woman’s voice called for him from afar. A woman, a very, painfully familiar woman came into view a few meters away from you. Standing there was your best friend, Akemi Hirai, looking at you with wide, mortified eyes as soon as she saw your presence.

And in a snap, Sachiro ran to her. Your son ran straight to her, joyfully and excitedly as if she was his real mother.

How many more heartbreaks do you have to go through?

How many more tears do you have to hold back?

“I…” Your hands were shaking. Your entire body was on the verge of breaking down. All this time, your son had been in this vacation home living like a happy little family with your ex-husband and best friend.

Now, he even refused to go home with you.

Gojou scanned through the look on your eyes as though he was reading your emotions, but you showed none of it. Not a single emotion could be seen on your face. Not an ounce of pain shown, despite seeing how your son immediately forgot about you and headed straight to another woman. How excited he was to spend more time with his dad and his new girlfriend. How, much to your discomfort, he refused to go back to Tokyo with you. You saw the future family Sachiro was about to have without you in the picture, and damn did it hit you like a truck.

Why, why did everyone in your life choose others before you?

“I’m sorry. I’ll bring him to your house Monday morning,” said your ex-husband in a soft, delicate voice, almost as if he was being careful with you. “We’ll take care of him.”

You could simply nod, avoiding eye-contact with anyone in the vicinity except for Satoru. “Okay...” you struggled with words. Your entire body was shaking. The last thing you wanted was to sound like a selfish mother, but frankly, you were about to self-destruct. “Just keep him happy… that's all I ask.”

Behind your mask of indifference, Satoru knew what right words had to be said. You needed reassurance, and that was exactly what he gave you. “I won’t ever take him away from you, Y/N. I promise.”

You watched them walk away, leaving you alone with a look of sympathy that you didn’t need. Sympathy that you despised having received. This should serve as a wake up call to you that no one in this world would ever love you. That even your own child would, one day, abandon you.

As tears fell from your eyes, you felt a certain pang on your chest that hurt worse than every other pain combined. “You know you’re not so good with promises, Satoru.”

#series: sincerely yours #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo angst #jjk angst #gojo satoru angst #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x yn

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