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stzrgirl4norris · 6 days ago

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Stolen Love - LN4

Lando Norris x Reader (Smut)

summary: You and Lando had been friends for years. Forced to. Because he was in a PR relationship and couldn’t be with the one he loved the most. Until he won Silverstone and couldn’t help but let his feelings spill. So, for the first time, he could explore you like he truly meant it.

warnings: smut, porn with plot, soft dom!lando, choking (lightly), teasing and bantering, praising, aftercare, unprotected sex (don’t), oral sex (m and f receiving), friends to lovers.

word count: 7k

i wasn’t going to write this at all but silverstone got me in my fucking feelings, so enjoy this very rushed soft smut ❤️‍🩹

The sound of your heels clipped clumsy against the hard tiled floor, echoing softly in the quiet of the apartment. Each step was uneven, your balance slightly off from the champagne and adrenaline still buzzing in your veins. Your hair was sweaty, sticking to the sides of your face and neck, and your makeup was a bit smudged, smoky liner slightly smeared beneath your eyes, lipstick faded into a soft stain from the drinks, the dancing, and the heat of the bodies pressed too close all night. That was the first thing Lando noticed when he shut your apartment’s door behind him with a quiet click, suddenly aware of the silence that settled around you both like a heavy, waiting thing.

Both of you were out all night, celebrating his victory—his night, his win. His hair was still wet, sticking to his forehead in damp strands from the champagne they poured in the club, from the way he let himself get drenched without care. Your skin, on the other hand, was still glowing, radiant from the flush of movement, from the spark of happiness that hadn’t left you since he crossed that finish line. The glow of someone who hadn’t felt alive in weeks but was now alight from the inside out. However, the two of you still had the adrenaline of the day pulsing hot and erratic in your bloodstream, fueled by the bass-heavy electronic music that only left your ears a mere twenty minutes ago, leaving a phantom buzz in its place.

Lando thought you were looking gorgeous. Stunning, actually. Even with your skirt wrinkled, twisted slightly at the waist, and your hair filled with messy knots from sweat and movement. Somehow, none of it dulled you. It made you real, undone and he had never seen you so happy. Or so fucking beautiful.

“Oh my God, can’t believe we made it alive,”

You giggled, your voice light, hoarse from shouting over loudspeakers and singing too many songs. You walked towards your sofa with a lazy sort of sway, still buzzing, encouraging Lando to follow you along with nothing but the curve of your smile. His steps were shy, hesitant, almost unsure. It wasn’t his first time in your apartment, he had been here before, sat on this very couch, even used your coffee mugs, but it was his first time being there as your boyfriend. Somehow, that one small shift made the air thicker. It made everything seem heavier.

“Tell me about it.”

You were standing in front of him now, swaying slightly, bare legs peeking out from the hem of your rumpled skirt, and it was driving him insane. Those legs had wrapped around his thoughts for months, and now they were right there in front of him. And for the first time, he could admit, finally, without guilt, without shame, without holding his breath, that he wanted you. All of you. He wanted to touch you, explore every inch of your skin, commit it to memory with his hands and mouth.

“You looked really good up there. All champagne-soaked and smug.”

“Yeah?” Lando’s voice was low, rasping now in the stillness of the room. “You looked pretty good watching me. Thought you were gonna pass out when I kissed you.”

Yeah. You did nearly pass out. You weren’t expecting it. You weren’t prepared for that.

Lando and you were supposed to be just friends—supposed to be. Even though both of you carried waves of unspoken feelings, surging and crashing quietly beneath the surface for years. It never mattered. Not with the PR contract he signed, the fake relationship you had to pretend didn’t bother you. The one that kept you at a distance with a smile frozen in place.

The driver didn’t know what possessed him to make that bold move. Maybe it was the glory. Maybe it was the pounding of his heart as he crossed the finish line. Maybe it was the fact his “girlfriend” wasn’t there when he won—but you were. Crying actual tears, trembling like you were the only one who truly knew what that victory meant to him. So when he walked towards his family and saw you there, barely holding it together, eyes glassy and full, his heart felt so full too, so heavy, there was no other way to relieve the pressure except by kissing you. Right there. In front of everyone. In front of all the cameras. Throwing the carefully crafted illusion of his fake relationship into the wind without hesitation.

“I did.” You smirked. “But only internally. Gotta keep it together for the cameras, right?”

He laughed softly, but right after his face twisted into a frown.

“Don’t say cameras. Not tonight.”

You stepped close. Close enough to smell the remnants of cologne still clinging to his skin under the sweat and champagne, woody and sharp, with something faintly citrusy beneath. The warmth of him hit you like a second skin.

“Okay. Just us, then?”

“Just us,” he murmured.

Then, finally, finally, he touched you. His fingers brushed the side of your face, knuckles grazing your cheek with feather-light reverence before sliding into your hair, gently tugging at the tangles. His other hand settled at your hip, his thumb stroking slow circles on the bare skin just beneath the end of your blouse. It was like every single thing you’d ever held back cracked open all at once. Like the walls were breaking. The feeling was electric, dangerously intense, and you swore you could feel him trembling with nervousness, with want.

You kissed him first.

Not a soft, tentative kiss. It couldn’t be. Not when you’d waited this long. Not when your entire body ached for it. It was desperate and slow, soaked with heat and hunger and every “what if’s” you had swallowed for years. His lips were softer now than they had been when he kissed you in the afternoon. Slower. More intentional. His hands were now free to touch you however he liked, and he took full advantage, pulling you flush against him with a low groan, your bodies aligning like puzzle pieces that had been waiting for this moment to lock in.

“You sure about this?” he whispered against your lips, even as he kissed you again.

“Lando, I’ve been waiting for this night for years now. What do you think?” you managed to pull out, breathless.

His laugh was full-bellied and bright, his head dropping for a second to your shoulder, and then he kissed you again, deeper this time, like he’d finally given himself permission to feel everything.

You ended up in the bedroom by accident, stumbling and giggling between kisses, hips bumping into walls, his hands gripping your waist like he was scared to let go.

Lando’s hands were firm on your back as you guided the way, mouth never straying too far from yours. Never, in a million years, did he think he would finally get the chance to touch you in your own bed, against your sheets, your pillows, the place where you dreamed at night.

“You always gonna look at me like that now?” he asked, hands braced on either side of your hips as you sat on the edge of the bed.

“Like what?”

“Like you are thinking what you’re going to do with me.”

You licked your lips slowly, deliberately, tilting your head like a cat about to pounce.

“That depends. What do you want me to do with you?”

“Whatever you want.”

You dropped to your knees without warning, eyes sharp with intent and a smirk teasing the corner of your lips. Your hands traveled over his jeans slowly, deliberately, fingers curling over the zipper with a kind of reverence.

“May I?”

“Jesus, you don’t even have to ask.”

You pulled his pants down, the soft whoosh of denim hitting the floor filling the room. You tossed them aside without care. Then, you started with little kisses, tender, teasing. One to each ankle. A trail up his calves. A lingering kiss on each knee. Then the inside of his thighs, where his muscles twitched beneath your mouth. Meanwhile, your nails scratched his soft skin ever so lightly, goosebumps rising under your touch, until your fingertips reached the hem of his boxers.

His cock was already hard, thick and flushed at the tip, straining against the fabric. When you removed the Calvin Kleins and wrapped your hand around him, he groaned, head tipping back as a curse slipped from his lips.

“You’ve thought about this, haven’t you?” You asked, kissing the tip, letting your tongue flick lazily.

“So many fucking times,” he growled.

You smirked, lips curling around him as you finally took him into your mouth. Slow at first. Long, deliberate licks. Soft sucks. Your eyes never left his face, watching him come undone. His hand settled in your hair, not pushing, just guiding, reverent. The sounds he made were everything, low, guttural, needy. When you swallowed him deeper, gagging slightly as he hit the back of your throat, his hips jerked.

“Baby,” he gasped. “Fuck, you feel so good. Look so pretty like this.”

You licked a stripe up his shaft slowly, from base to tip, letting your tongue flick right under the head where he was most sensitive. He let out a sharp breath, fingers tightening.

“Holy shit, you’re gonna kill me.”

Your mouth was warm, wet, tight. You sucked harder now, letting yourself get messy. Your hand stroked what you couldn’t take, the other braced against his thigh for balance. He couldn’t stop groaning, deep and raw and desperate.

“Fuck, that feels good.”

You bob your head, one hand stroking what you can’t take, the other braced on his thigh. His fingers slid into your hair again, guiding gently as you took him deeper, until your throat protested and your eyes watered. You gagged again and felt him twitch in your mouth, letting out a low, strangled moan.

“You okay?” he asked, breathless.

You nodded, letting him slip from your mouth with a loud pop.

“Love your cock. Can’t wait to have you inside me.”

You sucked him back in, sloppy and wet, spit running down your chin, your lips flushed and swollen. Your hands dug into his thighs, trying to pull him deeper, needing to choke on him, needing to feel all of him. Until he finally gave in—started to move his hips, thrusting into your throat with more rhythm, more power.

“Good girl. Look at that. Taking me like you were made for it.”

When he pulled out, you gasped for air, mascara smeared, throat raw. And then you giggled. Giddy. Drunk on him.

“I could do this all fucking night,”

Lando’s breathing was erratic now, deep, uneven gasps, his chest rising and falling fast as he watched you work. His fingers curled tighter in your hair, not forcing, just gripping, needing something to anchor him as the pleasure built faster than he could control. Every time your throat swallowed around him, every wet sound you made, every flick of your tongue sent him closer to the edge.

“Fuck, baby, you’re—” his voice broke off in a strangled moan as your lips sealed tighter around him, bobbing faster now, your hand stroking the base in perfect rhythm with your mouth.

You hollowed your cheeks, taking him deep again, eyes wet with tears and locked on his as you gagged slightly and held there, just long enough for his hips to stutter forward in helpless reaction.

His head dropped back with a groan, neck taut, jaw clenched.

“Fuck! Fuck, I’m gonna come—” he warned, the words rushed, desperate, trying to give you a chance to pull away.

But you didn’t. You held eye contact as you sucked him deeper, your hands now wrapped around his thighs, nails digging into the muscle to hold him steady. You wanted it, you needed it, and he could see that, could feel it in every slick stroke of your tongue and every sound vibrating from your throat.

Lando’s hips jerked hard once, twice, his body trembling, and then he let out the most beautiful, broken moan you’d ever heard as he came. Hot and thick down your throat.

“Shit. Oh my god—” he gasped, voice cracked open as he spilled into your mouth, his entire body shuddering like the force of it stole the strength from his knees. His fingers tightened in your hair as his eyes squeezed shut, his head tipping forward again, forehead nearly touching yours, breathless.

You swallowed around him, not wasting a single drop, humming softly just to feel the way it made his thighs twitch.

When it was too much, he eased back with a whimper, slipping from your mouth. You let him go with a soft, wet pop, licking your lips slowly as you looked up at him through fluttering lashes. His cock twitched at the sight.

“You’re gonna be the fucking death of me,” he rasped, voice rough and full of awe.

You smirked, licking a drop of him from the corner of your mouth, and then stood up slowly, brushing your palms along his chest.

“Not yet,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I still want you to fuck me.”

“Take your clothes off.”

Lando’s voice came out hoarse, thick with want, with restraint fraying at the edges. His eyes raked down your body, pupils blown, jaw clenched, and you could see his throat bob as he swallowed hard, barely keeping himself composed. His fingers twitched at his sides like he was restraining the urge to rip your clothes off himself.

“Bossy,” you teased, lifting a brow as your fingers toyed with the hem of your top. “I like it.”

You didn’t take your time, not when every second felt like a live wire under your skin. You peeled off your clothes piece by piece like they were suffocating you, shedding them fast and carelessly until you stood bare in front of him, flushed and breathing hard, your chest rising and falling with anticipation. Lando stripped his shirt at the same time, and your eyes followed every movement, how the muscles in his arms flexed, how his abs tightened as he tugged the fabric over his head. You’d seen him shirtless before, countless times, but never like this. Never under the gaze of desire finally set free. You didn’t need to hide the lust in your eyes anymore. He was yours. All yours.

And he looked at you like he was starving.

He moved before you finished undressing properly, grabbing you with a suddenness that made your breath catch. His hands curled around your hips and dropped you onto the bed, your back hitting the familiar give of your mattress, the cool sheets shocking against your overheated skin. He climbed over you slowly, like he wanted to savor the way your body looked beneath him. His knees slid between yours, forcing them apart, and his damp curls tickled your forehead as he leaned down, eyes locked on yours, his smile dark and reverent all at once.

Then, he bent down and kissed the inside of your knee. Soft, slow, worshipful. Then higher. Another kiss just above the curve of your thigh. Then another, closer to where you needed him, until his lips brushed the soft crease at the top of your leg. You squirmed beneath him, skin flushed and hypersensitive, already soaked, already aching. But he didn’t rush, he lingered. His mouth traced the edges of your underwear, deliberately avoiding your core, letting his hot breath tease you through the fabric. His fingers ghosted up your sides, brushing your ribs, feather-light, sending goosebumps down your spine.

“Lando,” you whispered, hips shifting, legs opening wider in silent plea. “You’re being very mean for someone who says he loves me.”

He smirked, slow and cocky, lifting his gaze to meet yours.

“You think this is mean?”

“I think it’s torture,” you panted, tugging gently at his curls.

“Good,” he murmured, voice dropping into something dark and delicious. “I’m not gonna rush this. Not after waiting this long to have you.”

You felt like you might cry from how sweet that sounded. From how much tension lived between the two of you. From the way every second felt like an unraveling.

But then, without warning, he pressed his mouth right over your underwear. His tongue pressed hot and wet through the soaked fabric, swirling over your clit just enough to make your back arch off the bed. Your moan was immediate, loud, and helpless.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered into your skin, lips dragging across your hipbone before he kissed a trail up your stomach, slow and warm.

“I want you to do whatever you want with me, champ.” Your voice was breathy, trembling with need.

He groaned, actually groaned, and buried his face against your inner thigh for a second, collecting himself.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice thick. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

He slid back down between your thighs, moving slow and deliberate, fingers spreading you open as he leaned in, nose brushing your mound. His breath was hot, humid, reverent.

“Lan, fuck, please.”

“Patience, baby,” he said, sounding far too smug for someone currently kissing your thighs like they were sacred. “I’m gonna take my time with you, we have all the time in the world.”

Then he pressed his face closer, nose brushing your panties, and inhaled deeply like he was trying to get drunk on your scent. He exhaled hard, shuddering.

“You smell so fucking good. Bet you taste even better.” His voice was rough now, frayed with hunger.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and dragged them down achingly slow, kissing your skin as he went, over the hip, down the thigh, grazing the knee. The air hit your soaked core and you whimpered, legs twitching.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath, eyes glued to you. “You’re dripping, baby.”

Then his tongue was on you, finally. One long, wet stripe from your entrance up to your clit. Your hips bucked involuntarily and he pinned them down with both hands, thumbs pressing hard into your hips to keep you still.

He licked again, this time slower, flattening his tongue and dragging it with purpose, then sucking your clit into his mouth and swirling his tongue just right. Your hands flew to his curls, fisting tight.

“Lando… fuck…” you moaned, broken and breathless, your voice pitching high.

He hummed against you, the vibration rolling through your entire body. His tongue moved with practiced skill, circling, flicking, stroking just right, making your thighs tremble. And then, as if it wasn’t enough, he pushed two fingers into you, slick and easy, curling them with that maddening precision. The wet sound of it filled the room, obscene and perfect.

“God, you’re so fucking tight…” he groaned, his mouth not leaving your clit for a second. “So warm. Fucking made for me.”

His jaw worked as he devoured you, licking and sucking with a hunger that made your eyes roll back. His nose brushed your mound, his breath hot, teeth grazing you between each flick of his tongue. Every time he sucked on your clit, your whole body jerked.

You tugged hard on his hair, thighs closing around his ears.

“Don’t stop,” you panted. “Don’t you dare stop—”

He didn’t. He kept going like a man on a mission, fucking you with his fingers, tongue moving in tandem, not letting up for a second. And when he growled into you it pushed you right to the edge.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah? Cum for me, baby.”

Your orgasm hit you like a wave breaking hard against the shore. A long, shattered moan tore out of you as your body arched, thighs trembling around his face, your vision going white at the edges. You were shaking, crying out, your fingers digging into his scalp like you were scared you’d float away.

And still, still, he didn’t stop until you were gasping, pushing his head away, your body overstimulated and trembling.

He finally pulled back, face glistening, eyes dark and feral, mouth wet with you. He crawled up your body, slow and deliberate, pressing kisses to your stomach, your ribs, your sternum, kisses that burned.

It was“Still with me?” he asked, voice hoarse and wrecked, brushing the tip of his nose against yours like he was grounding himself with your skin.

You nodded, dazed, dizzy with the overload of pleasure and emotion, glowing from within. Every nerve in your body felt raw and alive, like lightning kissed you and never let go.

“Barely,” you whispered, but your hands curled into his shoulders, holding him tight.

He exhaled shakily, his mouth ghosting over your cheek in reverence.

“Good,” he breathed, almost reverent, like he couldn’t believe you were still underneath him, undone and open and his. “We’re not done.”

Lando kissed you, deep, messy, starved. You tasted yourself on his tongue, a heady mix of salt and sweetness that made you moan into his mouth, like the confirmation of everything that just happened was too much to bear. He kissed you like he was trying to anchor himself inside you, tongue sliding against yours with devotion and desperation.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulled him impossibly closer, like if you could fuse your skin to his, it still wouldn’t be close enough.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” you whispered against his jaw, meaning every syllable like a vow. And if he was, you’d go willingly.

He slid between your thighs again like he belonged there, like the space between your legs had been made just to cradle him. When the head of his cock nudged your entrance, swollen and slick, your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, pulling him in, keeping him there, needing.

“Eyes on me,” he said, quiet but firm, his thumb brushing your cheekbone. His gaze bore into you, equal parts command and care. “Tell me if you need to stop.”

You nodded, but the idea of stopping didn’t even live in your body anymore. There was only him. You. And this moment stretched like forever.

When he pushed in — slow, deliberate, devastating – the stretch was everything. It burned in the best way, and the fullness hit you like a wave, your mouth falling open in a silent moan. Inch by inch, he filled you until he was all the way in, nestled deep, your walls fluttering around him. His forehead dropped to yours, and you could feel the way his body trembled above you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice low and reverent, “you’re so warm. So tight around me.”

Your hips arched up into his without thinking, and your breath hitched when he didn’t move, just stayed like that, buried inside you, holding on. You whimpered, clenching around him.

“Move. Please.”

He obeyed. Pulling out slow, like he wanted to savor the drag of your walls around him, and then thrusting back in just as slowly, deeper this time, hitting something inside you that made you gasp. He found a rhythm that was deliberate and sensual, not rushed, like he had all night to love you. His hips rocked into you with a devastating precision, grinding into your pelvis with every thrust, rolling his hips in lazy, delicious circles that made you cry out.

Your hands roamed his body like you were trying to memorize him too, nails scraping down his back, your fingers gripping at his arms and shoulders, desperate for something to hold on to as he unraveled you. He kissed your neck, your jaw, your collarbones, his hands cupping your breasts, brushing your throat, cradling your face like you were breakable and precious.

You met every thrust with your own, lifting your hips to grind against him, gasping every time he hit that sweet spot inside you. The wet, obscene sound of your bodies colliding echoed through the room, broken only by your breathless moans and the soft praises he whispered into your skin.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his lips ghosting your ear. “So pretty like this. Taking me so well. So good for me.”

“Lando—” you gasped, barely able to breathe. “Fuck. I love you.”

His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours, dark and full of something feral, but devastatingly soft. You watched the words settle into him, rearrange him from the inside out.

“I love you too,” he said, like it was the most certain thing in the world.

Something shifted in him then, the tenderness didn’t fade, but the urgency bloomed behind it. His thrusts grew harder, deeper, but never rushed. Still full of meaning, still full of worship. Every movement said I love you, every stroke made a promise, and your name kept falling from his lips like a prayer.

You felt your orgasm coiling deep in your belly again, sharp and fast this time, your body tightening around him, your moans turning into whimpers as he fucked you through it. When it hit, you shattered beneath him, body arching, vision going white as you clung to him like you might fly apart. He chased your high with every thrust, groaning your name, until he buried himself deep inside you and came, hot and thick, moaning into your neck, his entire body shuddering against yours.

You held him like that, hearts racing, skin slick and trembling. You kissed his temple, his jaw, whispered his name like a mantra, grounding him the way he’d done for you.It was some unholy hour, well past 3 a.m., when the world outside the room felt distant and unreal. The bedside lamp cast a hazy golden light across the room, soft but warm, flickering across ruined sheets and sweat-glossed skin. The air was thick, with sex, with heat, with the unmistakable electricity of something unfinished. You felt every second of it in your body, still stretched and sore, your pulse echoing between your thighs, skin raw with oversensitivity.

You were trembling as you climbed over him, your thighs shaking with the effort, exhaustion making your limbs heavy. But the look in your eyes was defiant. Hungry. Your hands planted firmly on his chest, fingers dragging through the fine sheen of sweat that clung to his skin. His chest was rising fast, unevenly, and you could feel the thunder of his heart under your palm. Just as wrecked, just as gone.

“Let me,” you murmured, your voice low and husky, but cocky, hips already rolling forward to glide your slick folds over his softening cock. He was still thick and hot against you, coated in the mess of everything he’d given you earlier. “My turn.”

His hands came to your hips, but instead of steadying you, instead of letting you take, they stopped you. Firm, grounding pressure that froze you mid-roll.

You blinked, confused, then narrowed your eyes.

“What?”

Lando tilted his head, eyes dragging slowly up your body. His voice, when it came, was rough silk.

“You think I’m gonna let you take control?” He sounded somewhere between amused and dangerous, like your suggestion was the most ridiculous thing he’d heard all night. “After everything I’ve imagined doing to you?”

Your smirk deepened, slow and daring.

“You’re tired.”

“I’m in agony,” he agreed, his mouth curling, his eyes already darkening again. “But I can keep going if you want.”

Before you could even think, his body surged up, one arm hooking around your back, the other gripping your thigh and in one brutal, fluid movement, he flipped you. The mattress hit your back with a soft thud, air knocked from your lungs as you found yourself pinned again, limbs tangled, skin still burning.

Your wrists were above your head before you could move, held in one of his hands, tight but careful. His palm pressed flat over your pulse, thumb stroking your wrist as if to remind you: he could feel everything. The other hand drifted lazily down your body, fingers brushing over your collarbone, down your sternum, pausing to graze your nipple with maddening gentleness before dragging down to your waist. He settled between your thighs again, and you felt the weight of him there, already hardening, cock resting hot and heavy against your belly.

You whimpered without meaning to.

“Try that again and I’ll tie you to the headboard.” The threat wasn’t empty. It vibrated through you like a promise, and a violent shiver ripped through your spine.

You squirmed beneath him, overwhelmed and aching and desperate for friction.

“You’re being cruel.”

“I know.” He smiled against your neck.

His hips shifted lower, cock catching at your entrance. He didn’t push in. Not yet. Instead, he ran the tip through your folds, letting your slick coat him. Over and over, he teased you, shallow glides that made you twitch and gasp, the head of his cock catching against your swollen clit just enough to make you cry out.

Your back arched. You tried to lift your hips, anything for more, but he pressed your hips to the bed with a single hand, pinning you in place like it was nothing. His strength had you sobbing already.

Then he began to push in. Slowly. So slowly. The stretch hit instantly, it felt perfect. You were sore already, still fluttering from the last time he came inside you, and this felt too much, too deep, too good. Every inch was a delicious drag, the kind that made your throat tighten and your eyes roll back.

You whimpered, needy, as he bottomed out, hips pressing flush against yours. He didn’t move. He just stayed there, full and thick inside you, hand still wrapped around your wrists, his breath fanning hot over your face.

“You feel that?” he whispered. “You’re gripping me, baby.”

“Lan… Come on, please…”

“You’re still soaked,” he groaned, kissing the corner of your mouth. “I’ve already fucked you twice and you’re still this wet for me. Can feel your pussy fluttering around me.”

You gasped, the praise slicing through your haze of overstimulation like lightning.

His cock twitched inside you, but he stayed perfectly still. The teasing was unbearable. Your body was shaking beneath him, desperate to move, to ride, to take. You bucked your hips, tried to grind against him, but he only tightened his hold on your wrists, and his hand on your hip forced you down again.

“Let me ride you,” you begged between kisses, voice wrecked. “Please, baby…”

He chuckled darkly, brushing his nose against yours.

“Another time, love. I promise.” Lando planted a kiss to your temple.

He pulled out, just barely, and slammed back in. You cried out, pleasure detonating inside you. He started moving properly, setting a rhythm that was rough but controlled, his thrusts long and deep, dragging against every hypersensitive spot inside you with maddening precision. Your legs wrapped around his waist, body curving to meet every stroke, completely undone.

“You’re so perfect like this,” he whispered, voice ragged. “So pretty. So good for me.”

“Yeah, Lan, just like that,” You chanted, already feeling the tingles burning up in your lower belly, stronger than before. You felt your legs trembling involuntarily and twitching. But then… He stopped. “Lando! What the fuck?!”

“You were so close, weren’t you?” He pouted, mocking.

You nodded, panting.

“I hate you.”

“You love me,” he said sweetly, brushing a kiss over your cheekbone. Then his fingers slid between your bodies, finding your clit, but barely touching it. Light, feather-soft circles. Teasing. Almost nothing. “Beg.”

You glared at him, eyes wet and full of fury.

“No.”

“Then we’ll stay here all night.”

Your voice broke.

“Fucking do something or I swear—”

“You’ll what?” he growled, pushing in just a little harder. “Leave me?” You couldn’t speak. And he knew it. “Shouldn’t threaten me, baby,”

“I used to imagine,” you started, licking your lips, “what I’d let you do to me if I ever got the chance. And it always started soft. Like this. You being sweet. But then I’d imagine you losing it,” you continued, your voice lower now. “Breaking. Because I begged so pretty. Because I said the wrong thing.”

He’s listening. Still fucking still, buried deep in your overstimulated cunt. But the tension in his arms tightened.

“I’d think about what it would feel like, if you just snapped. If you stopped being gentle. And fucked me like I was nothing.” Lando froze, his breath stuttered and for the first time that night, he didn’t know what to say. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, like you’ve physically knocked the air from his lungs.

You can feel the shift, the darkening in his gaze, the way his cock twitches inside you, the little tremble in his exhale. He tried, really tried, to stay in control. He rolled his hips slowly, resuming his tormenting pace.

“You’re insane,” he growled, pushing in deep. “I swear to god—” he started.

“What?” you asked, eyes glittering. “You’re gonna teach me a lesson?”

He snapped, the thrust that followed punched the air out of your lungs. He slammed into you, dragging your hips up to meet him, pounding into you brutally. All the softness was gone now. No teasing. No restraint. Just frantic, stupid need.

Your back arched off the bed, a strangled cry torn from your throat.

“Is this what you wanted?” Lando snarled, voice wrecked, teeth gritted as he fucked you open with ruthless precision. “You wanted me to lose control?”

You were gasping for air, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Lando was nearly folding you in half, the pace was merciless. You were clenching so tight around him, cunt milking his cock with every stroke, and he was moaning now, deep and unhinged, lost in the slick, messy sounds of you falling apart.

He leaned down, lips against your ear.

“You made me do this.”

“I know,” you sobbed. “God, it’s so fucking good, Lando, don’t stop—”

“You have no idea what you just started.”

His palm wrapped around your throat and squeezed a little. Your hips bucked instinctively under him.

“Holy fuck. You like that?”

You nodded, breathless.

“More.” He squeezed tighter, just for a second, and watched your eyes roll back, your mouth part, your whole body go pliant under him. “Fuck—Lan, please… please give it to me.”

And then he gave you everything. No more teasing. No more mercy. Just pure, brutal rhythm, his hips snapping into yours, hand gripping your wrists a little tighter. His lips pressed to your jaw as he whispered praise into your skin between every thrust.

“So perfect. Taking me so well, baby, fuck… So well.”

You came hard. Shaking, crying, clutching his back like a lifeline. Your walls clenched around him, and he groaned, low and guttural, fucking you through it like he couldn’t stop even if he tried. He followed you seconds later, thrusts faltering as he spilled into you again, cock twitching deep inside your body as he buried himself to the hilt and collapsed over you, panting your name like it was the only thing that mattered.

The silence after was thick.

He was heavy on top of you, his weight delicious and grounding. His face was buried in your neck, lips pressed against your pulse like he was trying to memorize it. You could feel his cock still inside you, softening slowly, but not moving. Like he didn’t want to leave you.

He groaned softly, low and hoarse, pulling his face back just enough to look at you. His pupils were still blown wide, sweat dripping from his temple, hair wild, lips red and swollen from your kisses.

“Fuck, you okay?”

You nodded, swallowing hard, then smiled, dazed, completely blissed out, utterly wrecked.

“Ask me again when I can feel my legs.”

Lando laughed, a little breathless.

“You started it.”

“Did not.”

“You said ‘my turn.’ With that look in your eyes.”

“You liked it.”

You both laid there for a moment, bodies tangled, his hand slowly drifting down to your hip. He traced circles on your skin, soft now, like the cruelty had been burned out of him. He nuzzled into your neck, breathing you in.

“God,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleepiness. “You drive me insane.”

“Back at you,” you murmured, lifting your hand to push the hair from his forehead. “I still hate you a little for the teasing.”

He smirked, not even bothering to pretend to be sorry.

“You loved it.”

“I was about to cry.”

“You looked so pretty like that.” Lando moved slowly, gently, kissing your temple as he sat on the bed, tugging the sheets up to cover you. “Don’t move,” he said, slipping out of bed.

You watched him walk naked to the bathroom, muscles flexing, scratches glowing angry red in the lamplight. You admired the view, then winced at the way your thighs trembled just from shifting.

When he came back, he was holding a warm cloth, and he took his time, cleaning you up with care, kissing your knees, your stomach, your thighs like he was apologizing with every touch. Then he climbed back into bed and pulled you into his chest, limbs wrapping around you, anchoring you again. He pressed a kiss behind your ear, hand resting flat over your stomach.

“Still with me?” he asked again, a soft echo of before.

You turned your head to kiss his collarbone.

“Always.”

The silence returned, this time thick with something golden and still, something that settled over the room like a blessing. It wasn’t the awkward quiet of post-orgasm breathlessness, nor the charged aftermath of pleasure. It was softer than that. Sacred. Your heartbeat slowed in time with his, and his breaths fell into a rhythm against your skin. You felt the soreness already creeping into your thighs, the delicious echo of every moment he had taken you apart. His touch still lingered in the places he’d worshipped you. You closed your eyes, tucking yourself into his chest, letting your body sink into him like gravity. You knew you’d feel all of this tomorrow. The bruises, the stretch, the tenderness.

And you wouldn’t regret a single second.

You woke up around noon, blinking against the sunlight pouring in through his half-drawn curtains. Your mouth felt dry, your throat scratchy, your body wrecked, but in that slow, smug, stretched-out way that made your stomach flutter.

Every muscle was tight. Your thighs ached, pulsing between soreness and memory. Your lips felt swollen, over-kissed. Marked.

Next to you, Lando slept like a man who had nothing left to prove. The sheets were a tangled mess at his waist, leaving the curve of his back and the slope of his spine exposed in the golden light. His curls were flattened on one side, a complete disaster on the other. There was a stupid, crooked smile on his face, even in sleep.

You watched him for a while, quiet, breath steady. You felt unreasonably calm. Like the storm inside you had passed, and in its place was something peaceful, clear. Lando, tangled in your sheets. Lando, with that soft smile. Lando, here.

He stirred slowly, stretching like a cat, a low groan slipping from his throat as his eyes blinked open.

“Hi,” he rasped, voice cracked and sweet.

“Hi.” You smiled.

Still heavy with sleep, he reached for you blindly, pulling you into his chest with one arm like it was instinct. Like you were his and had always been. You melted into him, sighing when your cheek hit the warm skin of his shoulder.

Then his hand slid down. Palm finding your bare stomach. Resting there.

“Lando.”

“Just touching,” he murmured, eyes still closed. His voice was barely there. “Promise.”

You kissed the base of his throat lazily.

“I need food. And electrolytes. And possibly a priest.”

His laugh vibrated through your body, warm and wrecked and utterly smitten.

“Okay, okay. I’ll cook.”

You lifted your head.

“You’ll cook?”

“Absolutely not,” he said, already sitting up, phone in hand. “But I make a mean Uber Eats order.”

Fifteen minutes later, the bed was a mess of trays and crumbs and crumpled napkins. You were perched in his lap wearing nothing but his shirt, sleeves too long, hem barely covering your hips. Your legs laid across his, warm skin tangled with his own.

There was a full brunch spread between you: croissants, eggs, crispy bacon, ripe fruit, steaming coffee, orange juice. He was feeding you bites from his plate with that stupid, boyish grin like he’d waited his whole life to do this. Like feeding you brunch in bed was the pinnacle of human experience.

“You’re glowing,” he said, tone thick with pride.

“I feel hungover,” you muttered, stealing a piece of his toast. “Don’t act like this was charity work.”

He grinned and slid his fingers along your bare thigh, giving it a squeeze that made your breath hitch.

“You loved every second.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“The choking was a bit much.”

“Didn’t sound like it last night.”

You flushed, scowling at your croissant.

“Jesus Christ.”

He watched you, quiet for a beat, then softened.

“I’ve never touched anyone the way I touched you.” The words were low. Honest. He didn’t flinch. “I’ve never wanted to. You’re different.”

You paused, your hands still. That was the kind of thing that could undo you, if you let it. So you reached for his hand instead and squeezed gently. Then leaned in to kiss his cheek, his shoulder, the corner of his mouth. You breathed him in, sun-warm and boyish, skin smelling faintly of sleep and sex.

Lando picked up a strawberry by the stem and held it out to you.

“What are you doing?”

“Feeding you,” he said matter-of-factly. “Let me romance you properly.”

You rolled your eyes but opened your mouth, biting into it as he watched you like you were the moon itself. When you chewed, he leaned forward and kissed the corner of your lips, chasing the juice.

“You look adorable like this,” he murmured. But something in you shifted. The smile faded. Your gaze drifted down and away. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you said too quickly, trying to butter another croissant like the movement would make the feeling disappear.

“Hey.” His voice gentled. “Look at me.”

You did. Slowly. And he was right there, bare-faced and golden in the sunlight, curls messy, expression so open it nearly made your throat close. There was jam on the corner of his mouth and concern in his eyes.

“I just… it feels weird,” you admitted.

“Weird?”

“Waking up like this. With you. After everything.” You hesitated, fingers tightening around your fork. “I spent so long watching you from a distance. Watching you with her, and—” your voice cracked, small and hesitant. “I know it’s stupid. I got what I wanted, right? You’re here. But now that it’s real, I don’t know what I’m allowed to want.”

He went still. And then, without pause, reached for you. Took your hand in both of his and cradled it like something fragile.

“You’re allowed to want everything,” he said. “Every single thing.”

You looked up at him, eyes glassy.

“It was just… a lot.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. I was scared. I thought I could wait it out.”

You let out a shaky laugh.

“How’d that work out for you?”

“Horribly. You ruined me.”

You exhaled, the tension leaving your body in a slow wave.

“You looked so happy without me… I thought maybe you didn’t feel it the same way.”

Lando’s whole face changed, his eyes, his mouth, the way his brows drew together like it hurt to hear.

“No.” He reached for your face this time, cupping your jaw with his hand. His thumb traced your cheekbone. “That was just pretending. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“You really want this?” you whispered.

“Absolutely.” He smiled faintly, then reached for the croissant again, tearing a flaky piece and holding it to your mouth. “Now eat, I need you strong enough to ride me later.”

You snorted, cheeks flushing, but obeyed.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m in love,” he said with a shrug. “It’s a dangerous condition.”

And just like that, the heaviness lifted. You leaned into him, letting your head rest against his shoulder, the breakfast forgotten for now.

“You’re disgusting,” you murmured.

“You’re stuck with me.”

“Good.”

And outside, the sun rose higher, spilling light into every quiet corner of the room. Safe. Soft. Real.

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #f1 writing #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smut #lando norris x you #f1 smut #lando smut #lando x reader #lando x you

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deepspace-scenarios · 24 days ago

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[scenario/drabble] Resonance and first-aid

Summary: LIs react when they accidentally injure you during orbital trials- you brush it off, but you soon realise it makes them confront fears and their past. (All ends well, just with some fretting and worrying because the LIs have a very soft spot for you</3)

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of injury (non-graphic), vague references to myths.

SYLUS

Most of the time, resonance is easy to achieve with Sylus. The familiar surge of energy ripples through you, and a powerful wave rushes towards the charging Wanderer.

And then something hits. You feel yourself getting knocked back several feet, a feeling of burning, twisting pain coursing through you. It's not even the ball of energy itself- just tendrils of black and red, gone astray.

The Wanderer dissolves into embers, its skeletal wings crumbling to ash. Sylus dusts off his hands, the red-black mist fading from his fingertips- until he sees you wince while sheathing your sword.

"Let me see." His voice is almost unnervingly calm, devoid of his typical casual smugness after victory.

You press a hand to the darkening bruise at your waist. "Just a bruise. Some ointment can fix it."

His fingers twitch. For a man who thrives on control, the mistake is unacceptable.

"Sylus," you murmur, catching his wrist. "It’s fine."

His jaw clenches. Somewhere in his ancient, draconic memories, he was doomed with a fate where his lover would be far from fine.

You pry open his closed fist and kiss his palm, breaking the spiral. "I won't get upset over a small accident. And you can patch me up, handsome.”

He shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose,

“Kitten,”

You decide to tease him- surely a little distraction wouldn't hurt. “Besides… it's not the first time you've left bruises on my skin."

His laugh is rough, but he pulls you close, his touch too gentle.

“I only take pleasure when I leave marks on you intentionally,” he murmurs, his hand trailing down your arm and settling on your elbow. “I hate the very idea of causing you pain,”

His gaze burns with an intense mix of raw, unfiltered pain- something that runs deeper than his strength and power. You reach up to stroke his cheek in consolation, eliciting a soft exhale from him as he leans into your touch.

“At least now I know how powerful your Evol is during battle,” you say with a small smile.

“Is this… your coping mechanism, sweetie? You've been doing nothing but flirting with me,” He asks dryly.

“I'm showing you there's no need to blame yourse- agh!”

Your world tilts as he sweeps you into his arms, carrying you. Mist swirls into a thick cloak, and you're back at his home in a blink.

He doesn't let you lift a single finger until he's sure your condition is stable, and until your bruise is dressed with sterile gauze above a thick layer of ointment.

“I called in sick for you,” he announces as he joins you under the covers, his warmth seeping into the shared space instantly. “You're not leaving until you're in a better condition,”

“Or what? You're gonna tie me to the bed?”

“You sound too excited for that sort of thing, kitten.”

Little did you know, he's already cleared his entire night's schedule to watch over you as you rest, the weight in his chest lifting ever so slightly when he witnesses you sleeping peacefully until the first light of dawn filters through the curtains.

_____

ZAYNE

The Wanderer’s firey breath comes from behind- Zayne reacts instantly, ice erupting in a shield. But the frost spreads, searing your back with cold. Your knees almost buckle, but you force yourself to turn and grab Zayne to resonate with him- the Wanderer dissipates, splintering into embers in the air.

Before you can fall, Zayne catches you.

"Don’t move," he orders. His usual clinical tone is too sharp, his breaths too measured.

You know why. The nightmares where he loses control- where you freeze under his hands.

"Zayne," you say softly, reaching for his hand. "Look at me, love. I’m here. I'm not going anywhere."

His fingers tremble.

"I know," he grits out, then steadies himself with another measured inhale-exhale. “Let me inspect the injury,”

You recognise this Zayne- right now, he's a combat medic, moving almost with tunnel vision to assess, diagnose and treat. You tug at the zipper of your gear, trying to shrug off the material to let him access the wound properly.

His hands stop you, “Don't make unnecessary movements. Allow me to do it instead,”

You nod, feeling your cheeks grow warm as the fabric is removed - then draped modestly across your front again.

"Minor second-degree," he mutters, noting the reddened areas with faint swelling. "No necrosis. Fortunate.”

Once he rushes you home, he fills a basin with lukewarm water and adds a mild antiseptic before dabbing at the wound. You tense from the sensation, and Zayne pauses.

“On a scale of one to ten, how badly does it hurt?” He asks, voice almost stern.

You gnaw at your lip, knowing not to hide your pain from him. It'll only deepen his guilt.

So you ramble, trying to be a compliant patient for him. “Maybe… about six? Six point five? But keep going, I don't think I'll deteriorate. The antiseptic feels strange- prickly, but nothing too bad.”

He exhales quietly behind you, and you feel the warm, damp cotton dab lightly onto your skin again.

He's never talkative, but the silence is heavy with a dense web of tangled emotions that had you scrambling for ways to lessen the weight on Zayne's shoulders.

“Dr. Zayne? I have a question.” You begin.

His hand pauses yet again, but he quickly recovers. “Hm?”

“Will it be safe for me to give hugs after this treatment?”

You hear him swallow audibly, and he lets out a short sigh- the kind that's stuck between exasperation and amusement.

“If you move slowly and take extra care, then yes, you may. But cease any movement that causes the slightest discomfort,”

He bandages you like you’re glass.

Later on, you hug him, long enough to feel the tension ease just the slightest.

Nothing verbal can comfort him right now- no reassurances, no saccharine words- you know it all just gets pushed aside by the persistent, haunting nightmares that he has.

He doesn't move, doesn't try to reject the hug- and you know this is him telling you how much he needs this. So you wait, with your arms wrapped around his torso and your face pressed to his chest.

Seconds turn into minutes- then you feel the gentle, hesitant presence of his hand as he cradles the back of your head gingerly. You hug him tighter.

Your warmth and your heartbeat is enough to let him know- you're safe, and this is not a dream, and that you love him all the same.

_____

RAFAYEL

Your shoulder burns where Rafayel’s dagger grazes you- a misaimed throw meant for the Wanderer. The pain gets masked by adrenaline, but you can feel the difference when you move.

Rafayel doesn't notice the sluggishness in your movements just yet, the way you push yourself to keep up with him, hiding the crimson of your clothes within the chaotic blur of battle.

His dance is deadly and alluring, with flashes of his blade and twisting flames sending the Wanderer hurtling backwards.

It is only after the Wanderer bursts into fragments of ash and lingering crackles of energy, when he gasps.

"Don’t-" He’s there in an instant, hands hovering. No theatrics. No jokes. Just agitation.

You’ve never seen him like this.

"Raf, it’s just an accident-"

"No." His voice cracks. Eight hundred years ago, he inflicted a fatal wound- one he has never forgiven himself for.

He doesn't speak the entire way home, and dresses the cut with uncharacteristic silence, his fingers lingering as you sit and watch him work.

"You’re never, ever allowed to bleed for me again," he whispers when he's done, kneeling in front of you on the sofa like he's praying for forgiveness.

You cup his face, looking into his eyes- blue, pink, purple- flooded with an intense guilt that has you lost in the melacholy depths until you're blinking back tears yourself.

"Hey, accidents happen," You say softly, "-and I'm fine. So stop looking so guilty, fishie."

His laugh is watery, but he kisses your palm- like he’s reminding himself you’re real, and safe.

“C'mon, Raf. Please?” You ask, unsure of what you're requesting- for him to look less devastated? For him to trust you as his bodyguard?

He makes a muffled noise, avoiding your gaze now. “I hurt you, and I can't even hug you now because that's gonna make you bleed-”

You poke his cheek, hoping it draws him out from his gloomy state.

“Just because you're my bodyguard doesn't mean you can endanger yourself,” he pouts, gently taking your hands and moving them to his chest.

He lets out a shaky sigh. “Just- stay with me for a while longer.”

Later, he maneuvers you until your legs are draped sideways across his lap, and he holds you like the dearest treasure he's ever found.

(He tells you that your bodyguard duties are off for the next two months. “You're just my cutie now, Miss Bodyguard can go hibernate,” he declares.)

_____

XAVIER

Xavier’s sword swings wide as he leaps to deliver the finishing blow. There's a rare misjudgment- and it nicks your calf.

He moves in a blur, and returns to your side before the remnants of the Wanderer disappear.

"We're going to the clinic," he says, sheathing his blade. Before you can protest, he’s lifting you into his arms.

"Xavier! I can walk-"

"Apologies aren't genuine without action," His grip tightens as he looks down at you, his eyes carrying the depth of stars lost to supernovas, and a rawness so far from his usual tenderness and calm that makes your breath stutter.

At your embarrassed squirming, his brows crease. "Are you rejecting my apology?"

You huff, thinking of showing up at the Hunter's clinic in his arms. "No- you’ll- you might get tired."

He holds you with soft desperation, careful yet with a grip tight like he fears you would slip between his fingers like stardust.

"My dear partner, this is the least I can do,” he says, voice wavering. “Now hold tight, we're taking a shortcut-”

Once your wound is dressed at the clinic and you are tucked into bed- he finally, finally allows himself to unravel and apologize to you, over and over again in hushed whispers.

He only stops when you press your lips to his, his eyes widening before he embraces you, exhaling a shaky breath.

His arms remain around you until you two fall asleep, with the moon bearing witness to his silent promise of everlasting protection over you.

______

CALEB

Caleb's gun kicks back harder than expected after resonating, and he slams into you.

You throw your arm out instinctively to break the fall, but the impact still sends you both crashing to the ground.

There's a tearing pain in your shoulder, and your breath is knocked straight out of you upon impact, leaving you dazed as you watch the crumbling Wanderer scatter in the wind.

"Oh, shit," Caleb's up instantly, scanning for injuries. "You alright, pips?"

You shift, forcing yourself to sit up despite the burn in your shoulder. "Just a strain.”

But he sees the way you wince, and his jaw is set. The man who vowed you’d always be safe at his side just failed.

"Caleb," you sigh, moving to pick up your weapon. “I'm fine, I swear,”

Caleb stops you, an arm hooking around your waist from behind as he makes the weapon float back to you instead.

"Major threat was eliminated. We're safe." You protest at his sudden surge of protectiveness, catching the gun.

His laugh is rough, frayed with a sort of mirthless desperation that wrenches through you harder than moving your injured shoulder.

“We're safe,” he begins, echoing you, “but you're staying with me to get your injury checked.”

Later, he sits you on the kitchen stool to inspect the injury with meticulous precision.

“Don't bite your lips so hard,” he orders, stopping his inspection and handing you a few unwrapped Hi-Chew candies of all things. “Have these instead,”

You hum, popping the tiny eraser-shaped candies into your mouth and letting the fruity, chewy sweetness dull the pain.

When Caleb puts anti-inflammatory cream on your shoulders, you feel his touch linger.

"I'll do better next time. I'm not letting anything hurt you, Pips. And don't even think about doing any work- you'll be resting under my watch this week.”

Note: Pls protect Zayne and Rafayel poor bbs going through all that in the recnt updates make me so :(((( i love them ALSO this piece was inspired by an ask from an anon reader. thanks for reading <333

Click here for the opposite scenario

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sourvers · 1 year ago

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GHOST WHO runs his calloused fingers through the fabrics of the clothes you folded for him: now gingerly placed in his duffle bag for another month of service. Neat and compact just the way he liked it.

GHOST WHO has to push the delectable taste of your cooking another plate away as his taste buds prepare for stale food kept in plastic bags, despite the ache festering in his stomach.

GHOST WHO always drops you off to work the day or two before he leaves: admiring the radiance of your face amongst street lights and the upward curve of your smile like the delicate bend of a crescent moon. He'll squeeze your hand before you slip through his fingers, not before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, not before the wind whirls and spins; taking him away.

GHOST WHOSE tongue festers bitterness because he knows you're assistant and students will smile and laugh at your jokes and come to you for support because of your tenderness to the world: to which he has learned was your highest virtue, a weapon of undoing to his bruised soul. He'll clench his fist and furrow his eyebrows because he knows the cafe's barista will ask you more 'How are you?' than himself, he knows the youth living down the road will banter with you more as you share a cake you can't finish on your own, he knows the woman walking her dog every Saturday will acknowledge you more than he has in a month. He knows he won't be part of the small moments scattered about your life. He knows it damn well.

GHOST WHO seldom mentions you around anyone, even t141. Initially, it was all about your security: to keep the spark in your eyes aflame, it always is of course. However, amongst the dim lights of a bar, the rest drunk on the fleeting rush of victory and memoria, he'll make sure to silence the thrashing beat of his heart and the desperate desire crawling up his throat to join in on the drunken yearning and say: "I miss my wife."

GHOST WHO returns home to either your waking body or sleeping flesh. The cycle repeats anew.

cod masterlist. / similar posts

⤷ omg! first post of the blog. got a little angst out here... hope you enjoyed it. reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!

#writing ୨ৎ #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost x female reader #ghost call of duty #ghost fanfiction #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x female reader #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod t141

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melodiesz · 3 months ago

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⋆˚࿔ I wanna rock your body

Summary - What happens when you—a sorcerer with a technique involving vines—are hit with a mysterious aphrodisiac? You tie the great Sukuna down and ride him until he falls in love, of course!

TW - creampie, squirting, riding, overstimulation (on him), bondage (also on him), oral (f receiving), he’s lovesick, somno (just grinding for one line), degrading, true form Sukuna, inappropriate use of stomach mouth, sub then dom Sukuna, slight dacryphilia, p in v, soft!Sukuna at the end ᥫ᭡

°❀��.ೃ࿔*:･ When sukuna awoke with the feeling of weight on him he paid it no mind. He knew it was just you, always preferring to use him as your mattress.

No, what did catch his attention was a poorly muffled noise from that weight on top of him. His eyes flickered open to the unexpected sight of you desperately rubbing your bare pussy against his clothed bulge—mewling into the hand uselessly covering your mouth.

You couldn’t help it! He just looked so gorgeous with the sun streaming down onto his relaxed face and painting golden streaks of light onto his abs; highlighting his many intricate tattoos.

Oh and of course, the reason you’d come stumbling in here in the first place. That damned plant.

See, you had visited the gardens earlier that morning, set on getting some fresh air before starting your day. However, your stroll was cut short when you noticed a strange looking plant you didn’t remember planting in the midst of your flora.

Curious, you crouched down to examine the oddity, noticing the way it seemed to glow bright enough to be evident in broad daylight. Leaning forward, you moved to sniff the mysterious intruder only to have a puff of glowing dust shot at your face.

You fell back, choking and sneezing out the blue dust to no avail. It was quickly absorbed into your lungs, and the subtle tingling feeling you felt afterwards had you worried.

You quickly shot up to rush to Uraume in fear of the strange (and possibly poisonous) dust you’d just inhaled before you halted, the tingling feeling increasing into something deeper that had your heartbeat increasing rapidly.

In seconds your cunt was throbbing, head woozy when your body began to feel inflamed. Your legs twitched and you let out an embarrassing whine, leaning against the wall for stability as your mind was all of a sudden clouded in lust.

The swell of feelings was abrupt and confusing, but in possibly the fastest change of plans in your life you were turning on your heel to scurry to the master bedroom—his bedroom—instead.

So that’s how you got here, you attempted to explain to him but kept cutting yourself off with whiny moans and gasps so his barely conscious brain struggled to process even a word of it.

“Brat,” he spits in that deep voice, raspier now in the early morning in a way that had you getting impossibly wetter. “Too much of a desperate whore to wait until I’m awake? You’ll pay for that insolence.”

He moves to reach out for you—most likely about to edge you for hours to teach you a lesson about patience—but you move faster. Your technique makes a sudden appearance when coils spring up and tighten around his wrists. They curl up his arms and chest, successfully tying him down where he lay on the bed.

He raises an eyebrow, staring at the thick vines surrounding him with a look of amusement on his face. You couldn’t be seriously testing him with an attempt as weak as this.

With one flick of his wrist the vines are sliced to pieces; immediately ineffective, but you aren’t deterred. Just as quickly as the old ones are destroyed new ones take their place, tighter this time so you could see the way they dug into his sculpted biceps and ogle the bulging muscles.

That small victory is short lived when that familiar tingling reappears. You can’t even properly enjoy checking him out before tears are welling in your eyes. When had you gotten so overwhelmingly desperate?

“I’m sorry,” you’re sniveling out which only makes him scoff. He rolls his eyes and goes to call out your fake attempts at gaining his sympathy when his gaze meets your wrecked face.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks and your sniffling. This isn’t fake; you’re genuinely distraught over not getting dick. Wow.

“I’m sorry- I just need you so bad. It hurts kuna.”

He’s speechless for a moment, no longer trying to break free from your feeble bounds. “Good grief woman,” he grumbles, but lifts his hips to grind up against you.

You fall forward with a moan and his stomach mouth takes the opportunity to flick its tongue against your clit. You move closer to the maw, not even trying to conceal your need, and he hums in content. You’ve always tasted sweet, but even more so now under this strange new influence.

You’re already soaked, only getting progressively wetter and he’s barely even touched you. He noisily slurps up your precious slick then sucks on your clit in a way that has your legs trembling and your mouth hanging open in a drawn out ‘oh’

He attempts to push his large tongue inside you but it’s much too big, leaving him to grunt in annoyance. Suddenly his stomach mouth closes and you don’t even get the chance to protest before you’re cut off.

“Come here,” he beckons with a nod. You quickly realize his intentions and so you’re crawling forward to hover above his face with a questioning expression.

“Did I tell you to hesitate? Sit on my fucking face.” He growls, and fuck, if he has to have to tell you twice.

You lower yourself down until your seated directly on his mouth, and he doesn’t waste any time getting to work. His tongue immediately breaches your hole, slipping in and out in quick ministrations like he would do with his thick fingers if you didn’t insist on keeping him tied down.

I mean, who was he to stop you and your kinks? What was the saying.. .happy wife, happy life?

His nose bumps against your clit and you grind your hips onto it, gasping and hands scrambling to find purchase when the pleasure sparks up your spine like tiny fireworks.

"watch it." he growls when you tug harshly on his hair, but his cock twitches in his pants. Too clouded with lust, you don't show any acknowledgment for the threat and continue pulling at the pink strands.

He moans at the feeling, but it’s masked by the obscenely loud sounds coming from your soaked cunt when he sucks your clit, tongue rolling around it deliciously.

"Fuck meeeee" you beg and whine until he’s grumbling out something you don't hear and abruptly ripping straight out of your binds with effortless strength. Just as quickly is he pushing a thick finger into your needy hole to satisty that itch you feel deep in your stomach.

“ah! kuna-“ you go to protest but the feeling of a second finger plunging inside you and spreading you real nice and wide has you unable to form anything coherent—turning to putty for him in seconds.

His tongue is attacking your clit while his fingers prod inside you and curl to hit that spot that he knows like the back of his many hands.

You’re crying out a jumbled mess of “more!” and “close!” that only makes him grin wickedly, eating you out like the perfect breakfast. He rolls your clit with his tongue, moving back just to press a wet kiss against it. “so fuckin’ messy,” he laughs breathlessly with your juices coating his chin.

You’re tightening against his fingers in their restless assault on your sweet spot, and he’s quick to latch his mouth back onto your clit when he feels you release with a cry loud enough to wake the entire estate.

He just sucks harder, not bothered by your dramatic screams or your slick messily spilling down his chin.

You’re squirming on top of him, riding his face through your orgasm as he drinks up the blissed-out look on your face and the feeling of you tugging his tangled strands of hair.

You sit up and his mouth is rudely forced off of you, fingers slipping out while you struggled on shaky thighs to sit back on his chest—careful to not go to close to his stomach mouth that you knew he’d continue his feast with like the glutton he is.

He frowns at being cut off from your taste but licks around his mouth and sucks his fingers clean instead, making direct eye contact with you while doing so so you were blushing and wrapping vines around his arm once again to stop the obscene sight.

Your peace, however, is short lived when just as soon as you’re coming down from your previous orgasm you feel that need in your gut flaring like an open flame again.

He noticed the shift in your expression, watching you with a bewildered one of his own as you moved down, wasting no time in pulling his pants down, his duel cocks springing out and slapping against his stomach.

He says nothing, just observing you while you swing your leg back over him to hover your twitching cunt over his cock, hole already dripping onto his flushed head to mix in with his precum.

Preoccupied with watching the way the mixture dripped down his length teasingly slow, he was too caught off guard to stifle the pathetic moan he let out when you dropped onto him in one swift movement.

“H-ah- fuck! Oh shit, mhfh-“ he chokes out at the feeling of your gummy walls swallowing him so eagerly, warm and wet and so, so unbearably tight.

And he whimpers, the King of Curses whimpers when you don’t stop; don’t even give him a moment to breathe before you’re setting a ruthless pace, ass meeting his heavy balls with an echoing smack! over and over again as you force his cock to bottom out each time.

You angle your hips perfectly so that his head is abusing your g-spot every time you go down, and he finds himself twitching inside you and spurting out even more precum at the realization that you’re using him like a dildo.

Like your own personal toy; your eyes are shut in pleasure and you don’t even see him as anything other than yours to use. Shit, that made him throb inside you.

The disrespect of it is jaw-dropping and he should be ripping free of your pathetic bounds to punish you for that, but he can’t seem to care when he’s so impossibly hard at the notion of being used only for your pleasure.

You tilt your head back and moan as his second cock slides perfectly against your clit, rubbing it while the second one rubs your insides.

You're slamming yourself down onto him with a force he didn't think you had, eyes still squeezed shut and nails digging into his chest like you didn't even know he was there.

The wet slapping sounds coming from where you collide are so obscene, so loud he could almost hear it ringing in his ears.

"Fu.. .hck- slow- hgh! slow down woman," he almost whines but the protest is drowned out by the obscene sound of skin slapping skin and your incomprehensible cries and moans.

This aphrodisiac must also be granting you boldness, he thinks when you ignore his words and instead place yourself on your feet, knees bent and leaning on your arms behind you as you start bouncing again, now able to push yourself down harder and faster in a way that has him ready to spill inside you before he knows it.

And for the first time in…ever, sukuna cums first.

His vision goes white as he hits that blindingly hot peak, waves of pleasure filling his body while he filled yours with loads upon loads of sticky cum, his second cock spurting all over your stomach and decorating it in his very own white sheen.

He’s breathless, yet left to gasp for air when you simply don’t stop, continuing to pound yourself onto his oversensitive cock, now twitching violently as he was finally given a taste of his own medicine.

“shit- brat wait, waitwaitwait oh..FUCK!” he shouts, both sets of eyes rolling back in his skull as your incorrigible pussy forces him into overstimulation, a sensation he’s never quite felt before that takes him over completely and leaves nothing left but you.

He’s whimpering, drooling even, and quite literally flinches when you laugh. You’re laughing at his suffering and fuck, he’s never been more attracted to someone in his lifetime.

you, you, you. In his sight, in his mind, in his heart if he even had one, but he knew now that he had to because there’s something that’s not lust in his eyes when he looks up at you and thinks you might be an angel.

Your cunt flutters on his cock and he thrusts his hips up, earning a breathy moan from your pretty lips that has him doing it again and again; meeting the rhythm of you slamming down onto him.

His second cock stands hard and neglected and he eyes where it stands compared to your stomach, knowing that’s exactly how deep his other one is inside you. Knowing that bulge in your tummy is all him; him you’re using like a toy, him that’s making you feel so good.

The thing in question is currently hammering against your sweet spot every time you let your body slam back down, the thrusts of his hips now full on abusing it and sending shockwaves of pleasure that have you struggling to stabilize yourself with your hands on his chest.

His breath is stolen again when you squeeze around him with a death grip before your orgasm rips through you. It’s quick and leaves your skin buzzing with energy, but still doesn’t feel like enough.

Your legs are shaking when you pull yourself off of him slowly, hovering your pussy over him to watch his cum spill out of you and all over his cock like a taper candle melting onto itself.

You exhale a long breath and collapse onto him. You lay there for a moment with your head on his chest, panting. With your eyes shut you miss the way his stay locked on your face, gazing at you with a feeling not even he himself can figure out.

He feels crazed, because he knows you still need more when you start to shift on his chest. It’s not enough. He needs to fuck you harder, better, needs to feel you soak his cocks like he knows you want to.

And If there’s something more than just lust, something like yearning to be as close to you as two human beings possibly can, to hold your body in his hands and know that you’re unmistakably his..

Well, that’s his business.

So in a heartbeat he’s ripping himself free of the binds and lifting your body up like you weigh nothing. You’re manhandled into the perfect mating press in record time, falling back onto the bedsheets with a quiet grunt.

You blink in surprise when you see him lining up both his cocks against your hole, and he grins like a a madman. “One dick just isn’t enough for you, no? This greedy cunt needs to be filled by two before you quit cryin’?”

He laughs deliriously, rubbing against your clit with his leaky tip. “Yeahh, so fuckin needy.”

He’s staring at your cunt like it carries the secrets of the universe as he slides himself up and down, his already soaked cocks getting ever more drenched. You squirm impatiently in his hold and he looks up at you with a what you expect to be a lustful look in his eyes, but all you find is pure adoration.

It makes you blush and tears are welling up in your eyes again when the overwhelming need for him gets to be too much. He just chuckles and reaches a surprisingly gentle hand over to wipe the spilling tears away.

"kuna, need more," you beg, crying and sniffling over dramatically, though he doesn’t point it out.

No, he can’t find it in himself to tease you because you’re crying for him.

Fuck. He needs to hold you.

“I’ve got you. I’ll make you feel so much better,” he hums, gently placing your legs over his broad shoulders before pushing into you slowly; the twin lengths spreading you deliciously.

With the sunlight streaming in through the windows the two of you resemble an ancient painting—ethereal flashes of light gleaming over your bare forms in the mess of silk blankets.

It’s intimate, the way he’s looking into your eyes with pure love, then kissing you like he wants to intertwine souls.

It’s primal, the way his cocks are thrusting into you, stuffing you so full that you’re moaning like a symphony into his mouth. Nails raking down his back and leaving long red streaks that he’ll secretly admire in the mirror later.

The overwhelming effects of the aphrodisiac are still streaming through your veins, but it’s different now. More passionate rather than lustful. More gentle in the way that he holds you like he’s scared you’ll vanish, but also more desperate when he tilts his hips to reach deeper, hitting that spot he knows makes you see stars.

Another arm reaches down to rub your clit, your hazy brain not catching the heart-shaped ministrations he’s doing.

“Come on, squirt for me,” he pants, “please, show me how good I make you feel.”

There is so many different ministrations happening that you barely catch it, that small plea sending you closer and closer to the edge you so desperately need. It’s something you’ve never heard from him before; asking rather than telling. And in such a desperate voice too, like he’ll die if you don’t.

His hands are everywhere; squeezing at your tits, playing with your bundle of nerves, gripping your hips and feeling the soft flesh under his fingers.

This orgasms different, daunting almost in a way that has you repeatedly crying out his name.

“suku- kuna’ sukanasukuna m’close! kuna please-“

“Thats right, let go for me.” He smiles calmly like he knows what’s to come.

In a blink of an eye you’re tumbling over the edge, pleasure tingling up your spine when you’re squirting all over him with a high-pitched scream. Your squirming in his grasp like you want to run away from it but his hips don’t relent, gifting you rough thrusts right up against your g-spot that ride you through your blinding peak.

Your walls are gripping him so tight he thinks he might combust, whimpering when his climax hits him head on and he follows right after you. He kisses you messily while pressing hard against your cervix to dump hot load after load of his cum deep inside you with a satisfied groan.

It feels like it takes hours for his cum to finally stop spilling out in heavy heaps, and he has to resist the urge to press down on your tummy just to see it ooze out.

He makes sure to flip your bodies over just in time to collapse onto the bed in exhaustion with you on his chest rather than crushing you. You fit perfectly against him, like the other half of his heart he’s been searching all his life for.

With his cocks still nestled deep inside you, he stared at the ceiling in post-orgasm bliss, just contemplating all of the new feelings he’d discovered.

He knew before that he felt something special about you, but refused to accept it as it was.

But now, listening to the way your breath slowed as you let sleep overtake you like you had no fear of being so vulnerable around a beast like him—he could finally classify that feeling in his heart.

His fingers brushed through your hair and he placed a soft kiss on your head. It was morning, he should be starting his day, definitely getting rid of that plant you claimed started all of this.

Though with you laying your head over his heart like it was the most comfortable place to be—he had no desire to be anywhere else. He finally found the strength to say those three words he never could before.

“I love you.”

A/N - Who knew overstimulating him was the key to fixing his emotional reservation?? My first actual fic for jjk! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

₊˚⊹ °❀⋆₊*:･

#melo!writes #melo!jjk #aphrodisiac is kinda an overused trope but oh well #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen smut #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk smut #jjk x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna fluff #soft sukuna

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lymtw · 11 months ago

Text

The frustration that Satoru feels when he completely stops seeing you as just one of his best friends.

You’re so pretty, modeling the dress you’ll be wearing on your date with some guy who probably dims in comparison to you. Suguru says you should try the outfit without the cardigan, so you take it off for a second and do a little 360 for the trio. Shoko gasps when she sees the lacy details that were hidden by the coat and Suguru claps in validation. “You’re so gonna get some.”

Satoru just watches, cheek resting in his fist as he half listens to the little debate between Shoko and Suguru. It’s all a blur as he focuses on the one glowing in front of him.

“Satoru?” You wave your hand in front of him.

“Hm?” He blinks up at you, acting like he wasn't zoned out while staring.

“Tie-breaker. Coat or no coat?”

He had heard what Suguru said when you took the cardigan off. 'You’re so gonna get some.'

He doesn’t want that.

“You should stay layered. You might get cold later.”

Suguru groans in disapproval, falling back into the couch cushion, while Shoko grins, smugly, at her small victory.

“Coat it is.” You smile, running back to the bathroom to finish getting ready.

“You like her, huh?” Suguru asks as soon as you’re out of sight, a squint of betrayal in his eyes.

“Pfft, nah. What makes you think that?” Satoru defends.

“She asked for our opinion on the dress and you went silent," Shoko says, throwing a knowing smirk at Satoru.

“You don’t want her to get laid or something? Why’d you vote for the granny cardigan?” Suguru adds, arms crossed over his chest.

“I want to see you take care of her when she’s sick. I did it last time, and she was unbearable. Also,” he turns to answer Shoko’s remark, “what can I say? I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“A lot of her on your mind.” Suguru nods over at you.

Satoru turns, a lucent gleam in his eyes when he sees you.

“Alright, guys. I’ll be back before-“

“Don’t rush!” Shoko says, giggling at the dopey look on Satoru’s face.

There’s a smirk tugging on Suguru’s lips. “Have fun.”

“Call if you need me to pick you up," Satoru blurts, sitting up straight on the lounge chair he was seated in.

Shoko gasps and Suguru’s eyes go wide for a second.

“Uh... sure. Will do. Love you guys, bye!” You walk past your friends, opening the front door and shutting it behind you.

Your perfume had some effect on Satoru because for some reason his heart was racing and he was unable to calm it down.

“What?” Satoru asks when he notices the way his friends look at him. “I’m the only one with a car here.”

“Uh-huh, let’s put it that way," Shoko says, sharing a menacing look with Suguru.

—

You did end up having to call Satoru. Your date was the most annoying, insufferable person you had ever met and you weren't going to pretend like you were enjoying your time with him for the rest of the night. How can someone be so different the moment you’re alone together? You couldn’t stand him, so you excused yourself from the table and went to the restroom halfway through your meal.

You called Satoru, hoping he wasn't kidding about calling him if you needed a ride home.

“Hey, uh, I know this is really inconsiderate of me, but can you come pick me up from the restaurant? If you can’t it’s totally fine. I’ll stay.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine. It turns out I can’t stand this guy.” You chuckle, your hand reaching for the sensor beneath the water faucet, the cool water running through your fingers. "He's gross and just... I don't know."

“Did he do anything to you? Are you okay? ‘Cause, you know, I can kick his ass.”

“You already asked me that, 'toru. I’m okay. He’s just…” you pause, a sigh filling in the silence, “...different from what I remember. I don’t know this guy.”

Satoru is already sitting in his car. The moment you asked him to pick you up, he grabbed his keys and headed for the car.

“Give me ten minutes.”

“It takes twenty to get here.”

“Too bad. I’m running a few red lights. Sit tight.”

“Sa-”

The call ends and you’re left staring at the contact photo you have for him. You turn your screen off and stare into the mirror. You don’t know if you should stay in the bathroom until Satoru gets there or if you should go back out to the man waiting for you.

—

“So, Satoru likes her, huh?” Shoko says, leaning back in the lounge chair Satoru sat in before.

“Who would have guessed? We’ve all been friends for years and he’s never looked at her like that.”

“We should invest in some noise cancelling headphones. Who knows what could happen after tonight?”

Suguru furrows his eyebrows in confusion, so Shoko grins and demonstrates. She rocks back and forth in the old lounge chair, the chair creaking and squealing.

“Oh.” Suguru’s face further scrunches. He didn't need the image of his friends doing that together, in his mind.

—

Your phone vibrates on the sink, and Satoru’s name appears on the screen when you flip it. You quickly answer the call.

“Hey, i’m outside.”

“How do I walk out of here without seeming like a bitch? I didn’t think this through.”

“First, walk out the restaurant doors. Then, get in my car. It’s pretty simple, honestly.”

“We haven’t paid the bill.”

“Fuck it. Let him pay.”

“That’s just wrong. Alright, i’ll be out in a bit. Bye.”

“Bye.”

You sum up all the courage you have and walk out of the bathroom. Once you reach the table, you pull out some cash you have just laying around in your purse, like forty-something bucks, and set it down in the middle of the table.

“Hopefully that’s enough to cover half of it.”

“Where are you going?” Your date asks.

“To keep it polite, I have to go. Have a good rest of your night.”

You walked out of the restaurant, immediately spotting Satoru’s blue Camaro.

The second you get in, you make yourself comfortable, removing your heels and taking down your hair from its updo.

“What’s wrong?” Satoru asks, when you don’t say anything.

“It’s fine. This guy just wasn’t the one.”

Satoru’s chest feels tight now that you’re in the car. The smell of your perfume has returned and you’re glowing in the moonlight. It makes him think of the effort you put into looking the way you do, and how you ended up having to hide in the bathroom.

“Do you wanna go home?”

You’re looking in the sun visor mirror, bobby pins in your mouth as you fix your hair so that it’s not in your face once Satoru starts driving.

“Mm… whatever you want to do,” you say, muffled by the pieces of metal pressing into your lips.

It wouldn’t be whatever he wants to do, though. All he wants to do is kiss you, right now. Do something to soothe the ache you must be feeling.

“Why are you acting like this?” He asks, watching you as you place another pin in your hair.

You laugh through your nose, a bobby pin still between your lips. You put it in your hair before answering.

“Like what?” You look at him while you put your seatbelt on.

“Like this doesn't bother you. You don't have to put up a front, you know? I'm not gonna laugh at you."

The metal clicks, and you fold the sun visor back up. “Because it didn’t bother me. I’m not gonna settle for someone I hate being around."

Part of Satoru wanted this to go well for you. He wanted to see a brilliant smile on your face when you got home. So, the fact that it didn’t end up that way strangely caused some heartache for him.

“Don’t look so down.” You give him a kind smile and pinch his cheek. “I’m okay. Really.”

He tries to distract himself from the warmth that seeps into his cheeks from your quick gesture. “Well, I don’t want to go home. Is that okay, with you?”

“What’s up with you?” You ask, bringing one of your legs up and folding it comfortably on the seat.

“Nothing.”

You stare at him until he breaks out his contagious smile and laugh.

“Really, nothing. I just want to spend some time out tonight. Shoko and Suguru want to stay home and be couch potatoes."

You see your date walking out of the restaurant, phone against his ear. He doesn’t look too defeated, but you don’t want him to see you with Satoru and make any bold assumptions.

“Okay, that’s totally fine, but can we go?” Your leg goes back down, meeting the floor mat and you turn to face the window.

Satoru analyzes your behavior and your expression. Your arms are crossed, you refuse to look in his direction again. It’s weird compared to how you were acting two seconds ago.

“What?” Satoru turns to look at whatever made you shrink, and as soon as he sees him he rolls his window up. “Really?” His eyes are lidded in disappointment. It’s not in you as a person, but in your lack of respect for yourself, choosing someone so far below your league.

“He was nice when I first met him.”

Satoru puts the gear in reverse, backing out of the parking spot. “He looks stupid and on top of that he acts like it, too? God.”

“I know, I know.” You lean against the car door and stare out the window.

“What made you think you deserved him? Honestly, I can’t wrap my head around how low this is for someone like you.”

“I don’t know.”

Your responses to Satoru's interrogation kept getting shorter and shorter and he realized he was beating a horse that was already down.

“You know I care," he mumbles, breaking the heavy silence. “I don’t mean to tell you who to date and who you should be with.”

“I hate this conversation. You’re not my dad, Satoru. It’s fine.” You sit up, back against the seat and face forward. “Where are we, anyway?”

“I just followed a random road to see where it would lead. I don’t wanna go home, but I also don’t want to know where I am.”

“So, we’re lost.” You laugh.

“Hey, as long as we have phones with enough battery, we’re not really lost.”

“Right.” You grin, continuing to watch the road. You look over the steering wheel to see how much gas the car has. It’s two marks below the bold F.

“Can you tell me something?”

You turn to Satoru, giving him your full attention. He’s been more serious than you know him to be since you left the house.

“What’s up?”

“I’m not trying to rehash this father-like conversation, but as one of your best friends… what were you thinking when you accepted a date with this guy?” He glances over at you for a second. “What went through your mind when you said 'yes' to a date with him?”

“Potential love, dates, butterflies. All the stuff that goes into getting to know someone as more than an acquaintance or friend.” You fidget with the extra hair tie on your wrist.

“You want all of that?” He asks, glimpsing at you again.

You nod, silently.

“You’re pretty enough to fuck around with whoever you want, you know? I know some people who wanna do some pretty... vulgar things with you."

Your eyes go wide at how far south the conversation went. You cracked the second you looked at Satoru though. He looked somewhat proud to be friends with someone who could get some anytime.

“That’s… good to know, I guess.” Your mind stumbles over the part where he called you pretty enough.

“You’re not interested in that, though, are you?”

You wince, jokingly. “It’s just not my cup of tea. I want something more long-term.”

Satoru grins, almost like he wants to talk about himself.

“That’s not your cup of tea, is it?” You reciprocate the grin.

“No, no. Believe it or not, the last relationship I was in lasted a whole two months.”

You slapped the car door dramatically. “A whole two months?!”

“Stop it. It’s nothing, really," Satoru jokes, grinning with faux pride.

“Hey, i’m not shaming you. You’re not down with commitment and that’s fine. We're young. There's no need to rush."

“I haven’t found someone I really want to commit to. I'm not stupid enough to ignore the fact that people are really only attracted to my body. They can't stand when I open my mouth, so I figured it’s better to fuck around than to put my heart into something that won’t last without sex.”

Satoru's personality was for people with acquired taste. On the other hand, Satoru's physical appearance was for anyone and everyone. The people who could appreciate all of him would be in for the most amazing ride, because even as his friend, you could confidently say that there is no one like him anywhere in the world. You can only hum in acknowledgement of how romantically lonely he must feel.

“What?” You ask when the car stops. Satoru puts the car in park before turning it off. “We’re not out of gas, so what’s the problem?”

He unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to face you, one leg bent on the seat. He’s met with a breathtaking sight. You look stunning in that navy blue dress, and that shade smeared over your lips was calling his name. He can see part of your thigh from where your dress rides up.

“Can I talk to you about something?” The tension behind the question was enough to make your ears go red.

“Of course you can. You’re scaring me, but go on.”

He smiles, trying to lighten up the mood. He knows better than to just dump information like this on you so heavily, but he can't go home tonight without telling you how he feels. He already doesn’t expect much to come of telling you this, but it's been eating him alive and he can't keep it in anymore.

“You've been on my mind a lot, lately." He sees your slightly furrowed eyebrows. They match the unintentional pout on your lips. You’re confused and for some reason you feel nervous, like your heart might escape your ribcage.

“What does that mean?” You ask, wanting a clearer understanding. He could be worried about you in a totally platonic way. He could be wondering about what you've been up to lately. You're having trouble assuming there's romantic notes to his statement after the brief discussion you just had.

“It's exactly as it sounds. I've been thinking about you." He's not smiling, he's not laughing yet this still sounds like a joke that he’s running to mess with you.

“You done with your jokes? We could both be home right about now," you say, not intending for your words to come out as sharp as they did. His hand is suddenly cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away a speck of glitter from it.

“You say goodnight to me in the sweetest way—like you won't see me in the morning. And the soft smile you give me before you shut the door... it lingers in my mind. I dream of it from time to time."

You're trying so hard not to lean into his touch and nuzzle your cheek into his palm, but you make no effort to push his hand away. “What are you talking about, Satoru? Don't you think you're reading into it a little too much? I do that for all three of you. Ask Shoko and Suguru.”

His hand has been on your cheek for a while now, and he’s still looking at you like he has things to get off his chest. “I know you don't say it the same way to them as you do to me." He stops, a little sigh leaving him. He’s probably making you dizzy with all of this news, based on the look on your face. He retracts his hand and rests it on his thigh. You look stunned, so he cuts to the chase. “To be even more clear, I don’t see you as a friend. It doesn’t seem right to see you that way when I can picture us doing more. Being more."

“Doing more?” You repeat, cheeks growing warm.

“Holding hands, kissing, being alone together—more.”

The heavy silence returns, both of you nervously avoiding eye contact.

“I..." you huff. "I need some air.” You unbuckle yourself before exiting the car. Your scent remains in the car even after the door shuts behind you, leaving Satoru to wonder if things are screwed with you.

Your back is against the door, your hands interlocked in front of your eyes, shielding you from the gentle moonlight. You groan, irritated by the conflicted thoughts that came with Satoru's revelation.

It’s not long before Satoru comes out and joins you, leaning on the side of his car. It's cold and he doesn't want you to get sick again. His heart could barely handle your involuntarily weak display the first time.

“I didn’t stress you out, did I?” He asks, turning his head to look at you. You shake your head, your hands still covering your eyes. “There’s really no part of you that can envision an us between me and you?”

You chuckle, a sound that makes his heart pang. “It’s funny... you know, a long time ago it was all I dreamed about.”

Now this was baffling news to Satoru. How long ago was a long time ago? A couple months ago? Last year? Three years ago? And why didn’t you say anything?

“I considered you a pursuit that was out of reach. You had—have— all these girls just throwing themselves at you, and I couldn’t be one of them, so I befriended you instead.”

“How long ago was a long time ago?” He asks, nervous to hear the answer.

“Like last year in March. It was during your phase where you would never come home.”

He feels like an asshole. Especially since not too much later, he developed similar feelings for you that he endlessly denied.

“You liked the me you never got to see?”

You both chuckled at the rhyme of his words, your broken senses of humor adding some lightheartedness to the conversation.

“I guess you not coming home was more calming because I didn't have to be nervous to see you.”

You crossed your arms. The cardigan protected you, but not enough. The cold wind was starting to nip at your cheeks. Satoru notices and moves closer to you.

“Let’s go back inside, yeah?”

You didn’t want to. You were nervous being “stranded” with Satoru already, but minimizing the space between you was even more nerve-wracking. He was your greatest temptation before, and you could easily create those labyrinths that guide him into your mind again if you got close enough.

“I’ll be fine," you say, looking straight ahead at the field of weeds in front of you.

“You’re gonna catch a cold. Get in the car," Satoru prompts. He thought back to the tired look on your face as you laid in bed sick, waiting for him to bring you warm soup.

“No," you insisted, turning away from him.

He inched closer, not wanting to look at your back. “Please, get in the car." He thought of the gracious look on your sick face when he brought you another blanket to keep you warm.

“I said no, Satoru. I don't want to get in the car with you."

You were being stubborn as hell, and something about it made Satoru’s blood boil to the point where he did whatever his mind told him to do. You were suddenly pinned to the car, your hands on Satoru’s chest to keep some distance. He blocked every gust of wind that threatened to bite at your skin, and enveloped you in his warmth. You don’t know how, but in this freezing temperature, Satoru’s hands felt like sunlight on your cheeks. His face was centimeters away from yours, his bright eyes searching for a loophole in your feelings for him. Your eyes spoke with an infinite amount of possibility, and some of it didn't make sense, so he kissed you in hopes of translating what you were trying to say.

You didn’t have any fight left in you. Not when you felt so secure in this close proximity. Now, all you wanted was to be in the car with him, alone.

The kiss was released with light breaths from both of you, a look of feeling complete on Satoru’s face. “Will you get in the damn car,” he whispers, his arms caging you against the car.

“Say please," you say in the same intimate volume as him.

“Please," he complies, allowing his eyes to flit between your eyes and your lips.

“Pretty please?" you push.

“Pretty please," he says, the corners of his lips twitching.

“How about pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“Get in the car," he says through a laugh.

You chuckle, shoving him lightly before opening the door and entering the car. Satoru gets in the drivers seat and suddenly it all feels strange. Strange, but in the best way.

The tension from before returns. There's no wind blowing to fill in the silence when you both stop talking.

“Do you ever think of me when you're alone?” It was a weird question to be asked by him, especially since you had already told him that your feelings for him were left behind.

“Never," you reply, a softness in your tone that held memories of when all you thought about was Satoru.

He's somewhat disappointed, seeing as though there's a chance he might be too late.

“Do you think that will change after tonight?” He seems to be getting closer, or at least his hands are. Your skin is irresistible and he wants to feel how soft you are. He's been craving you for so long, and you're right there.

“There’s no way to tell.” You can see how slowly his hand is traveling. A minute ago it was on his lap, now it’s on the armrest between your seats. You can’t wait any longer. The suspense might make you jump out of the car again, so you grab his hand and put it on your thigh, where your dress rides up.

“I’ll throw the question back to you. Do you think of me when you're alone?” You ask him now because he won’t give you some bullshit response at a time like this, when he’s getting everything he’s wanted for who knows how long.

“All the time,” he responds so quickly. “When I wake up, before I go to sleep, in the shower, while I brush my teeth.” There’s this foolish look on his face, like he would give anything to never lose the ability to have you on his mind all the time. "You're in there, organizing the shrine I made for you," he admits, with a grin. His thumb presses into your thigh, massaging the plush skin. It makes you nervous as hell, but you like it.

“Have you told Suguru and Shoko?”

He chuckles, remembering the conversation he had with them after you left. “I’m positive they know."

Once again, you're left staring at each other in silence, drowning in the tension you’ve created within yourselves. Satoru has yet to move his hand away from your thigh, not letting up even when he feels goosebumps spread on your skin. He tests the boundaries you have set up, finding no resistance from you when his hand reaches further up your dress.

“You’re not gonna tell me to stop?” He asks as his fingers are met with lace, a texture that makes his heart thud rapidly in his chest.

You shake your head, leaning back in the seat. His fingers ghost over the front of your panties, finding a satin bow just below the elastic band.

“Were you going to let that guy touch you? Is that why you wore these?” He hasn’t even seen them, and yet he can tell they’re the cutest thing ever.

“Maybe," you mumble, looking away in slight embarrassment.

“Can I see them?” He asks.

You nod, allowing him to slowly pull up your dress. Your heart drops when you hear him gasp.

“God, no way," he says, sounding defeated. His ears slowly turn a bright shade of red as he observes the material covering your intimate area.

“Stop,” you whine, feeling flustered by his reaction and the way he stares.

His hand returns to its previous spot, continuing to play with the part of the elastic that sticks to your hip.

“You wear these types of panties on every date you go on?”

You nod, biting your lip as his fingers move just to feel the fabric. His touch is still ghost-like—light, barely there, but it’s working you up anyway. There’s barely enough friction, yet you can feel your wetness begin to ruin the garment.

He sighs. “You know, no one deserves you.” His tone is smooth and he smiles at you, an angel taking control of his features. “Not even me, but I can make up for the one who missed you tonight.”

He spares his attention to the spot in the middle of your panties, only smiling when a breathy moan involuntarily leaves you.

“God..." you groan in embarrassment, covering your face with your hands. "I can’t with myself."

His thumb rubs up and down your clothed slit, applying pressure when he reaches your clit.

“Don’t be shy. Make as much noise as you want,” he says, luring a gasp from you.

You look away again, red-faced, feeling embarrassed beyond belief.

“What?” A low chuckle follows. His hands settle on your thighs as he leans in and tries to look at your flustered face.

“This is weird.” You look out the window, too nervous to look at Satoru.

“How come?”

You giggle. “I can’t stop seeing you as one of my friends. It’s strange to experience something like this with you.”

“I would hope Suguru and Shoko aren’t touching you like this.” His hand splays on your thigh, kneading softly. “Are they?” He asks, after a pause.

“Of course not.”

He seems satisfied with that response because he’s trying to hold back a smile, but the corners of his lips are twitching. His fingers snap the elastic band of your panties against your skin a couple more times.

“Is it too weird to go on?” He asks.

You consider the facts. He already touched you, he confessed his feelings for you before he touched you so you know he wasn't lying about his feelings for you and he doesn’t just want sex. You had those feelings for him before, but claimed to have lost them with time.

Your overwhelming thoughts are enough to put an end to what was going on. You pull down your dress, hiding the evidence of his touch, and sit up straight in the seat. “Maybe we should head home before we do something we might regret later.”

He hums and smiles, not an ounce of disappointment in his features. “No argument from me."

Satoru put his seatbelt on and watched as you did the same before starting the car. There was no need for him to set up the GPS because all he did was drive straight, so all he had to do was drive back the other way.

You didn’t expect the car ride to be so quiet. Maybe he did want things to go further. You couldn’t bear to look back at Satoru, even though you could feel him side eyeing you as he drove. There were a couple times where he turned his head to look at you when you stopped at red lights, but you knew you couldn’t look back until you had something to say. You were overthinking everything that happened until that point. What can you say when you just went through an entire roller coaster of emotions with someone you call a best friend? Someone who has now seen you in a vulnerable position.

“Did you at least eat?” Satoru asks, finally breaking the heavy silence that engulfed the car.

“Uh, yeah. I was able to get through my meal," you respond, glancing at him quickly before turning back to face the window.

He nods in acknowledgement. You see the stop sign at the end of your street, signaling the closeness of home.

Satoru parks the car in the driveway, and you finish removing your shoes. You enter the house, expecting to see Suguru and Shoko up waiting for you guys, but to your surprise, the doors to their bedrooms are shut.

“Goodnight, Satoru," you say. “Thanks again, for picking me up.”

“Yeah, no worries,” he responds. “Goodnight.”

You can’t shake the void left in your gut after your time with Satoru. You sit on your bed for a moment thinking of the intimacy that occurred between you and him. The gentleness of his touch, the lack of judgement from him when you basically told him that you dress your best even for scumbags. Something inside you was begging you to tell him how much you wanted him to sleep in your room—in your bed. And that’s exactly what you aimed for with this rush of adrenaline that surged through you. You rose off the bed quickly, and made haste to reach his bedroom.

You knocked, calling his name once. Once was all it took for him to leap to open the door.

“Can you help me with something?” You asked, hoping he held no ill will towards you and that he wouldn’t deny you.

“Sure. With what?”

You motion for him to follow you to your room, and he does with no further questions, following your bare feet as you lead him to your room.

“I tied the knot for my dress a little too tightly." You let out a quiet chuckle, your nervousness imbued into it.

“Oh, I see," he says, stifling a grin. "Turn around.” His finger circles in the air.

You turn your back to him, facing the mirror on your vanity. You can feel his knuckles grazing your lower back as he takes the time to slowly loosen the knot, the straps that once sat wrapped around your waist dropping loosely.

“There,” he murmurs, still standing behind you, looking at you through the mirror.

“Thank you,” you say so quietly that it’s almost a whisper.

Normally, that is the cue for someone to leave, but there was this branch of electricity connecting him to you. He couldn’t find a reason to step away from you, so instead he stepped closer. His arms encircled your waist, his hands interlocking above your lower abdomen. Your stomach swarmed with butterflies—blood thirsty ones that knew all too well that they wouldn't be leaving anytime soon, so long as Satoru was in your room.

He leaned in to kiss your shoulder, an act that brought goosebumps to your skin. "You look really pretty." You give in to the feeling, tilting your head to give him the entire canvas of that side of your neck. He wondered if you would be upset if you saw his kisses on your neck in the morning.

He stops and looks for your approval first because he has arrived centimeters behind the line between friends who are really comfortable with each other and something deeper. You have to let him know that it’s okay to cross this line.

“It’s okay,” you say, squeezing the hands that rest on your lower abdomen. “Don't stop."

That’s the green light he needed in order to move on. He did not hesitate at all in pulling back his arms and undoing the knot that held your dress up. He watched as the smooth velvet cascaded down your body, pooling at your feet, leaving you in nothing but those precious lace panties. You felt vulnerable with your bare chest out, but made no attempt to hide yourself.

He was frozen for a second or two, speechless at the sight before him.

“No one deserves you,” he finally says, his arms snaking around your torso. His lips start leaving behind their marks on the other side of your neck. He drags his kisses down your shoulder, biting once, then twice, resulting in a couple giggles from you.

“Close the door, please,” you say, realizing Shoko and Suguru would see what was happening if they opened their doors.

Satoru releases you only to close the door, locking it for safe measures. As soon as he’s back, he’s wrapping his arms around you before pushing both of you towards your bed. He starts stripping his clothes off, until he's left in just his boxers. His eyes never leave yours, a lovestruck smile on his face.

“You will never know how many times I’ve dreamt of this scenario."

“Stop.” You giggle, withstanding the sting of his lips on more than you neck. It’s heat on your chest and on your stomach now, his hands holding your waist so gently. You’ll look like some abstract piece of art by morning with the endless waves of kisses that Satoru gives you. He wants you so badly. Devastatingly so. He wants to prove that he is the closest to deserving you by the end of the night.

Your heartbeat is inconsolable in your ribcage. The eye contact brought some reality to the situation. He chuckles at the doe-eyed look on your face before refocusing on his task. He's nearing the elastic band of your underwear, those cute lacy ones he got to touch in the car. His touch is already affecting you, the evidence being a wet spot reemerging in the middle of your underwear.

"You're so warm and soft, and..." he sighs, your body making his mind cloud. He couldn't have ever accurately imagined how stunning you would be with just the golden street lamp's light shining through your window. "...you smell really fucking good." His hands go beneath the elastic band of your underwear, dragging his dainty fingers through your slit enough times to earn a small gasp from you, before pulling his hand out. "Bet you taste amazing, too," he says, wrapping his lips around his glossy digits. "Mhm..." he practically moans when your taste coats his tastebuds. "Sweeter than I could have ever imagined."

You don't think you'll get over Satoru saying these explicit things to you.

"More. Fuck, I need more." There's so much he wants to do to you, so little time in the night despite it only being 11:30. "God, you're so..." he cuts himself off and kisses down your stomach, impatiently—desperately. "...so pretty. So—fuck— so pretty. Gonna make you feel so good."

"Okay, 'toru, make sure to breathe," you tease, running your fingers through his soft locks as he nears your throbbing core.

He drags his nose up and down the wet patch of your panties, audibly inhaling your scent and exhaling through shuddered breaths. He sounds feral, his aching cock creating its own pool of arousal in his boxers. The tip of his nose was covered in your slick, the remnants of you on his skin driving him absolutely crazy. Once he absolutely couldn't take it anymore, he yanked your underwear down, almost tearing the pretty fabric and tossed it onto the floor. You were soaked at the sight of his pure lust towards you. Those eyes were darker than you've ever seen them before.

He tries to be slow and gentle for you. You're the one thing he's wanted for the longest time and now he has you. You're not guaranteed to be his forever, after this, but at least the night is secured and he has this one chance to prove that he would do it right with you. That he could handle your body with a tenderness and loving that would make you weep. Everything you want in a lover will be given to you in one act of demonstrating how undeniably in love with you he is.

His attempt at slow sensuality never reaches you. His arms are hooked tightly around your thighs to prevent you from squirming away from his greedy mouth. He wants everything you give him to never end. The melodic sound of you moaning his name, the sweet nectar that just keeps drooling out of your cunt, the sting on his scalp from the firm hold you have on his hair and the tugging. He's in heaven. If the possibility of this reoccurring is nonexistent, he wants this moment to loop. For there to be a glitch in real life that allows him to replay this scenario as many times as he likes, like a story with multiple endings.

"You taste so good. So fucking good, princess. Wanna give you a taste," he rambles. He unwraps his right arm from your thigh and uses his forearm to pin it down so that he can use his fingers on you. He bends all his fingers down except for his index and middle fingers. Your slick is already streaming out of you, ready to be collected, but he can't resist the urge to dip his fingertips into your pulsing hole. "Oh fuck, you're so wet," he utters in awe, quickly tossing the idea of just his fingertips going in when his long, lithe fingers sink into you with ease.

"Satoru," you choke out, a sharp gasp following. The pads of his fingers brush against that spot within you that forces you to bite your lip. Your heart is racing. What if you get caught? How would you explain what's going on to your friends and would the dynamic of your living situation change because of it? You care, but clearly not enough to second guess this moment again, like you did in the car.

"Mmm..." he moans against your clit, his lips smacking after releasing the now throbbing bundle. "So sweet." He pulls his fingers out of you and admires the glaze that drips down to his knuckles. He wants to be selfish and put them in his mouth, but his need for you to know how good you are to his tastebuds overpowers those thoughts. "Open, pretty," he says, tapping his wet fingers against your lips. He watches with parted lips as you take his slick coated digits into your mouth, shutting your lips around them to completely suck off your essence. "Good, huh?" A pleased grin appears when you nod. "Yeah... I want it back." He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and puts them on your right breast, smearing your saliva all over your nipple until it pebbles.

All you can do is say "huh?" before your lips are enveloped by his. The kiss starts out slow— he's taking a moment to appreciate how perfect your lips feel against his. For a minute you can feel the way he innocently wants you. You have butterflies in your stomach all over again.

His hunger for you grows with every sharp breath you release and the squirming beneath his unrelenting hands on your chest. Your heart has been pounding in your ears since he slipped his tongue into your mouth and you have goosebumps from all the rubbing, brushing, and tweaking he offers your nipples, the throbbing in your cunt only intensifying as you withstand it. He thinks the whimpers that seep into your kisses are the cutest sounds ever and he doesn't want them to stop, so he glides a hand down your abdomen and gives you the touch you're missing.

You break the kiss, throwing your head back into the pillow at the feeling of Satoru rubbing your clit. He watches through gleaming eyes the way your jaw hangs and allows the sweetest moans to spill from your kissed up lips.

"Feeling good?" He asks, grinning when you respond with a moan that makes you clasp a hand over your mouth. "Yeah? That's an answer, too." He chuckles, watching intently as you crumble beneath his touch, not some zero's who made a fool out of himself.

You uncover your mouth, your sounds amplifying and flowing freely. "Satoru," you gasp. "Oh, fuck– S-Satoru!" The last words you manage to cry out before you cum without a warning.

You look way too pretty arching your back off the bed and chasing friction from his hand. Your neck looks palpable like that, exposed for him like you want him to mark it up and take a few bites.

"Let me make you feel good, pretty girl," he coos, drunk off the cute sounds of the heaves and sobs that wrack through your chest, your little whines shining through them. Lustful, lidded eyes watch as you try to wriggle away from his touch.

"P-Please," you huff out, your trembling thighs working to shut around his hand. It's too much, your peak has passed and now you're left to bear the overwhelming feeling of his unstopping fingers.

"I know, I know. It's terrible..." he murmurs. His tip is leaking so much at the sight of your body jerking and your eyes welling with tears. He really loves the way you've surrendered yourself to him. "You're so pretty." He sighs, dreamily. He stops and wiggles his hand out of the tight embrace of your thighs. You take a deep breath and blink away tears, focusing on the comforting movement of his hands caressing your thighs. He can see the way you look at his body. His chest, the sculpted muscles of his abdomen, the pale happy trail that leads to a part of him that you are unfamiliar with.

He crawls over you, his lower body wedged between your legs. "Don't be scared to touch," he says, his tone sultry. He grabs ahold of your hand and places it on his chest, initiating the contact for you. You take control and allow your hands to roam his body. Like you're in a room full of random unpressed buttons, you explore the different reactions you get from touching different parts of him. You discovered that his nipples are sensitive. He groaned into your neck when you palmed at his pecs and borderline whimpered when you focused your touch on his peaks. He shuddered when you traced along his ribs, but once you neared his stomach and waist, things got hot for you all over again. Your heart raced as he breathed into your neck due to the feeling of your nails gently scratching along his abs. He was rutting his clothed bulge against your cunt, desperate, low moans leaving him with every graze of your nails along his waist.

"F-Fuck, I can't wait anymore. Please, let me in." He whips out the cutest puppy eyes you've ever seen, and though they're unnecessary, you're not opposed to him having to resort to those means.

"Y-Yeah, okay," you breathe, feeling the throbbing in your cunt intensify when he stopped rolling his hips against you.

He's rushing, his movement stuttered and his hands shaking with desperation as he works his boxers off. He's impressed with the amount of precum that went into them, but he doesn't waste time admiring the mess any longer once he frees his achingly hard, drooling cock. It's sensitive to the touch. He'll cum if he doesn't play his cards right while lathering his length with the essence that beads at his tip. With that taken care of, he comes close to you again.

"This is gonna be the slowest start ever," he says under his breath, eyeing that sweet little smile on your face, like you understand the turmoil he's going through with just trying to get inside you. His tip nudges your clit, spreading some of his precum onto the nub as he guides it up and down your slit a couple times. He's working himself up to sinking in because he knows how wet you are. After a few more strokes, he presses just the tip in, nestling it into your warmth with a groan. You gasp as he slowly drives himself into you, the stretch his girth induces proving to be immense. He tries to steady his stuttering hips as he pushes more of his length in.

"Little more, just a liiittle more," he says through soft breaths, more to himself than you. Once he glides the rest of his length in, he feels like he's going to explode. He's throbbing so hard and you're not helping at all with the brief, inconsistent spasming of your walls. "Oh fuck... shit," he whimpers, thrusting only halfway into you. "Sorry—fuck—s-sorry... I can't-" He gasps when he thrusts the rest of the way in, spewing his load as he just grinds against you.

Your eyes widen as you watch him, his eyes shut tightly, his jaw hanging ajar to release shaky breaths. His cheeks, neck and chest are blazed, bright color smothered over his pale skin.

"Shit..." he rasps, still taking deep breaths.

You can't even ridicule him for this when he looks so fine. The laugh he let out was enough to make your thighs twitch.

"It's alright, Satoru. It's getting pretty late, anyway."

"No-the-fuck it's not," he says, looking down at you with the smallest crease between his brows. He's wanted this—wanted you—for way too long and he can't leave your room without showing you just how badly he desires you. It's a need, at this point.

A chill runs down your spine and your heart drops at his response.

"I mean, i'm not tired. Are you?" He asks, softening a little after coming in so hot with his last response.

You're not and even if you were, it's those eyes... They compel you to want to do things for his sake. They're so soft and you feel wanted beneath their force. You feel everything he said to you in the car when you peer into his eyes.

"No. I'm not tired either," you respond, which instantly puts a smile on his face.

"Good. Let me try again."

Neither of you mentioned any of what happened within that quick span of time. No mentions of him spilling the second he got inside you or you trying to end the night to save him the embarrassment, and it turned out for the better. No awkwardness once he recovered and went back to proving his love for you. He went straight into it, thrusting at a slow pace to start you off. He held onto your hips as he leaned in and kissed all over your chest, sucking your delicate skin to leave little reminders of him for you to see in the morning.

He groans, muffled by your warm skin, when you scratch the back of his head, guiding your nails through the short hairs of his undercut and down the nape of his neck. He's purring like a satisfied cat, the soft breaths he lets out through his nose grazing your neck.

With all these good feelings comes Satoru picking up the pace. His hips meet yours a little more quickly and suddenly both of you get a little more courage to make more sound.

"Fuck," you whimper. "Satoru... S-Satoru..."

"I know..." he grunts. "I know, baby. I feel really good, too."

You just look so damn pretty, with your starry eyes and your messy hair, and the way you keep moaning his name. He has to kiss you again. Each time he kissed you before was accompanied by fireworks. This time... who knows? He certainly won't unless he gains the courage to do it once more.

He leans forward and stares deep into your eyes. The level of intimacy has doubled down and you feel like your heart is trying even harder to lurch out of your chest. He's not stopping, you can feel his breath on your lips as he pants through the exertion of his hips. Then, once again, with a whimper as he closes the distance between your mouths, he kisses you. It's not fireworks this time, it's an entire fire and you kissing him back like you need him just as much is fanning the wild flames.

"Love... you," he disperses the words through his kisses. He doesn't only say it once. He says it multiple times as your lips are moving, making those pauses purposeful. "Fuck– I love you," he repeats, breaking the kiss when you don't say anything. "Come on," he chuckles. "Say it back."

"Satoru..." you say, softly.

"You say it all the time to us. What's another time?"

You bite back a laugh when you see those brilliant eyes again. He knows the effect they have on people and uses them to his advantage.

"It doesn't..." he groans, cursing under his breath when you suddenly clench around him. "...have to mean anything more than it usually does."

You're hesitant, but figure that as long as he doesn't take it as more than what he's used to—at least until things are talked through—there can't be any harm in saying what he wants to hear.

"Love you, 'toru."

The words are way too sweet, too gentle on his ears. The smile you offered as you delivered those words was devastatingly beautiful. You've said this a million times, each time so friendly, so lovingly, the meaning never feigned or faded with its repetition, but in that moment, he felt the words more than he ever did before. Your plush thighs are pressed against his hips, your hands are on his chest, and he can still smell that perfume you spritzed on your skin before you left. He's never heard you like this before, so sultry that it almost seems like an invasion of privacy.

"Again... say it again, p-please." With the scene that is playing out before his very eyes, he wants to imagine you meaning it as a term for lovers.

"I-I..." you let out a sharp gasp, your words cut off by the feeling of his cock brushing against that weak spot within you. "I love y-you, Satoru."

You're saying it to him only, right now. It's not 'I love you guys', it's 'I love you, Satoru', and he's drowning in it all. Your voice, the words, the blissed out look on your face. He's weak.

"Yeah?" He laughs, sounding almost delirious from how good he feels and how he's trying so hard not to cum.

"Mhm," you respond.

"T-That's good to know," he says, breathily. He's picking up the pace again, almost knocking the wind out of you with that first thrust in the change of pace. You're scratching up his back, wrapping your legs around his waist while he moans into the crook of your neck.

"G-Gonna cum, gonna fucking cum, again."

"Please... cum inside," you babble, nonsensically.

"Yeah? You want it inside again?" He asks, grinning when you hum and nod in confirmation. Who is he to deny you of such a simple want?

With a few more harder thrusts, he's filling you to the brim again with his warm cum. He's breathing heavily into your neck, mouthing at your skin sloppily as your cunt flutters around him. He's babbling on and on asking you if you came and if you feel good, while you're trying not to cry out too loudly from how hard you did. It's only until he unsticks himself from your tacky skin that he sees the aftermath of your orgasm. Your lidded eyes, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the sound of your shuddered breaths brushing past your lips. He's thinking about it again. No one deserves you, but clearly, he was the closest.

He tosses himself beside you once you both come down. Your blanket is shared between the two of you, it reaches just above your chest and above Satoru's hips.

He sighs as he turns over to face you as you stare up at the ceiling. "You think they heard us?" He asks, voice low and intimate, yet a mischievous smirk that tells you he wouldn't care if they did, plays on his lips.

"Not sure. I guess we'll find out tomorrow." Now it's your turn to sigh. You don't even want to think about how weird breakfast might be in the morning.

"Hey," he calls for your attention. You turn onto your side to face him, keeping the blanket close to your body. "It's gonna be fine. What's the worst that could happen? They tease us or call us dumb?" You give him a soft smile. Normally, you're the one calling him dumb while the others agree. "Don't know about you, but I don't mind. They don't know the story, anyway. Right?"

"Right."

Time slowed down in that moment. You both just stared at each other in silence, thinking about what just happened. You were comfortable together, lying there, satisfied with your decisions. He pulled you closer by your blanket covered waist and pressed kisses into your cheek, enough to make you giggle until you started returning the kisses. To anybody, this would be considered a sight of two lovers taking care of each other after a night of intimacy. The whispered words, the quiet laughter between kisses, the gentle drags of fingers on harsh marks—it all points to love. You think things might be okay, after all.

It took a while for you and Satoru to untangle yourselves from each other. Eventually, he got up and dressed into everything but his messy boxers. You weren't going to get back into your dress so you laid back for a while and watched as he collected himself.

"Well... I'll see you in the morning." His hand is on the doorknob and he's looking at you, shamelessly raking his eyes over your body as if he's trying to memorize you all over again within the short span of his goodnight to you.

"Mhm. Goodnight."

He pulls the door open, still not detaching his gaze from you. "Goodnight," he says, his voice low, yet warm and brimming with love. He spares one more soft smile for you, before walking out and clicking the door shut behind him.

You think you finally understand why he's so hung up on the way you say goodnight.

5K notes · View notes

spaceyaemonds · 1 month ago

Text

pairing: dr. jack abbot x reader

sum.: a rare night out ends in rushing to PTMC

warnings: age gap (jack is late 40s, reader is mid to late 20s), parenting, a child (they have a son who is 5) nongraphic mentions of falling down stairs and mild concussion, they call each other mommy and daddy but not in a kink way?? no smut but minors DNI.

notes: requested!!! i don’t 100000% love this, but currently it seems like that is not a new thing for me with my writing LMAO. i hope you guys enjoy this (especially the person who requested!! unedited. and as always, any feedback is extremely appreciated, it helps keep me motivated. especially reblogs/comments/asks!

wc.: 1.6k

Jack can’t help but sigh looking at his pouting son, a face that mirrors his own but eyes that are all yours.

“Buddy, you like Sadie. It’ll be a good night. Mom and I won’t even be out late,”

“But daddy, why can’t I go?”

Because you and Jack haven’t had a night to yourselves in who knows how long. Not that Jack would ever, ever, tell your son that.

“Because daddy wants to take mommy to dinner,”

Your son's pout somehow deepens, “I wanna take mommy to dinner too.”

Jack sighs, “Well, what if when dad gets off work, we both take mommy to a nice restaurant. And tonight you let dad take mom out. Plus,” He crouches down to his son's height, but more weight onto his left side than his right, “you get her all to yourself for three nights in a row.”

Jack watches as his son sighs, but nods his head, “Fine.”

Jack takes it as a small victory. The five year old is completely attached to you, and though he can’t blame him, it can get slightly annoying when he wants to spend time with you and the small boy refuses to stay with the sitter from down the block.

It’s a rare off night on a weekend for him, and he’s determined to have an actual dinner with you that doesn’t consist of your son eating off your plate, you eating off Jack’s, and Jack ending up eating dinosaur chicken nuggets.

It’s also a win that he gets to see you dressed up.

And dressed up you are.

He glances over at the stairs when he hears your heels clacking on the hardwood of the stairs, and he swears you never fail to make his breath catch.

Especially in a black dress.

A little black dress, at that.

Before he can even think to compliment you, a tiny voice beats him to it.

“Wow, mommy look at you!”

You grin, and do a dramatic turn, “Yeah? Looks nice?”

“Veeeery nice!” He giggles, and it makes you giggle.

You finally look at your husband, “Well doesn’t daddy look nice, huh?”

Jack huffs, “Yeah. Not as nice as mommy, though.”

You laugh as he gently grabs your wrist and pulls you into him, placing a quick, but firm, kiss on the corner of your mouth.

A knock on the door pulls the two of you out of your bubble. Jack quickly pulls away from you to go let Sadie in, while you kneel down in front of your son.

“Alright, bub. Be good for Sadie and mommy will bring home a dessert for the two of us to share.”

He gives you a toothy smile, “What kind of dessert?”

Dramatically, you furrow your brows and place a finger on your chin, “Hmmmmm,” He laughs at you, and it’s the best sound you’ve ever heard, “How about cheesecake?”

“Oooooh yes,” Dragging out the oh, he nods enthusiastically, giggles never ceasing.

“Okay, that settles it.”

You kiss the apple of his chubby cheek, standing up right as Jack and Sadie walk in.

“Right, we’ll be back around 11. He should be in bed by 8, but if he wants to stay up a little later and watch TV, that should be fine,” Jack glances at you for confirmation that your son can stay up a little past his bedtime.

Nodding, you glance at Sadie, “9:30 is the absolute latest, though,”

A few minutes later, the two of you are out the door.

In the fifteen minute drive to the restaurant, Jack’s hand lingers on your thigh, squeezing it every so often.

“Do you think he’ll sleep all night?”

You smirk, “Why?”

His voice drops slightly, “You know why.”

You laugh, looking over at him and smiling, “Yes, I think he will sleep all night.”

An all too familiar grin takes over his face.

“But we’ll have to be quiet. We’ve had one too many close calls.”

Thank god for the lock on the bedroom door. He’s never actually caught the two of you, but you dread the thought of it.

“I can be quiet,” He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, “You can’t.”

Dramatically, you gasp, “Excuse me?”

This time, he doesn’t even look at you, just huffs out a laugh, “You heard me, and you know I’m right,”

An hour and a half later, the two of you are well on your way to dessert, laughing like a couple of teenagers over pasta and steak.

He’s staring when you pull yourself together enough to look back up at him.

“What?” He smiles when you furrow your brow.

“You’re beautiful. And I don’t think I tell you enough,”

You roll your eyes.

“No,” His eyes are locked on yours, “I’m serious. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and you are absolutely the best mother ever.”

His fingers lace with yours, “You gave up a lot,” You immediately go to deny it, but he continues, “Don’t say you didn’t, because you did. You’re whole life changed when he was born, and you made every single sacrifice you needed to without any complaints. And I know, my life changed too, but not as much as yours did,”

His eyes hold a lot of emotions when he squeezes your hand tightly, “You’re the greatest person I know. And I love you more than anything.”

Tears well up in your eyes, but you give him a big smile, “I love him, and I love you, more than anything. All sacrifices have been far worth it.”

His phone ringing pulls both of you out of your conversation.

Jack huffs out a sigh as he digs it out of his pocket, mumbling under his breath, “The one fucking night,”

His brow creases when he sees Sadie is the one calling.

“Hey, Sadie,” You tense up in your seat immediately, she never calls when sitting. Never.

“Wow, hey. Calm down,” He keeps his composure, but the look in his eye tells you that something is wrong.

“The ER? Which one? Take him to PTMC. We’ll meet you there.”

Now you’re panicking, “Why are we going to the ER?”

Jack takes a deep breath and grabs both your hands, “He’s gonna be fine, but he took a pretty bad tumble down the stairs. Sadie said he slipped. His nose is bleeding, but he’s going to be just fine.”

You can’t tell if he’s trying to convince you or himself, but you start feeling overwhelmed.

“He fell down the stairs?” The way your voice cracks has Jack wincing. He had just taken the babygate out over the weekend.

“He’s going to be fine. Go get in the car started,” He digs his keys out of his pocket, “and I’ll take care of the check.”

You’re shaking as you stand, chest feeling tight and fingers going numb as you clutch the keys.

By the time the two of you make it to PTMC, you can tell Jack is panicking. You wish you could say something, make him feel better like he’s trying to do you, but you can’t think of anything to say.

You need to see your baby before you say anything.

“Hey,” Jack stops walking when he notices you aren’t right behind him, walking back to where you’re standing, “Hey.” His hands grab your face, “It’s a tumble down the stairs, and while it is scary, he is going to be just fine. Maybe a concussion but that’s probably it,”

You take a deep, shaky breath, “What if it’s not?”

Jack shakes his head, “He’s going to be just fine.”

A kiss on your head ends the brief moment before he grabs your hand and guides you into the ER, quickly making his way through and to the nurses station to look at the board.

E. Abbot S9

“C’mon.”

He gently guides you to the room your son is in, sighing when he sees Sadie.

“Oh thank god,” The teenager sniffles and walks over to you guys.

“I think he’s okay, they took him for a CT a bit ago-“ A sob cuts her off as she looks at you guys, “I am so, so sorry.”

“Hey,” You gently take one of her shaky hands, “it’s okay, you did everything right.”

She takes a deep breath, and nods.

“My mom is going to come pick me up, I’m gonna go wait for her in the waiting room. Please text me and let me know how he is?”

Jack nods, “Of course we will.”

You give her a tight hug before she walks off, which is perfect timing as Shen and Ellis both appear, wheeling your son though.

“Mom!”

You smile, despite the tears in your eyes, “Oh, my baby!”

You reach to hold his hand, “Are you okay?”

Shen, bless him, “Yeah, it’s a good thing for that hard Abbot head. He has a very mild concussion. I think the sitter was worried the bloody nose was from his head hitting the wall, but from looking at it, he also has bruising on his nose,”

Jack’s glaring, “What did you just say about my kids head?”

You turn and shush Jack, “You are hard headed, don’t start,”

Jack rolls his eyes before glancing down at his son, “You feel okay, bud? Neck hurt or anything?”

He shakes his head, “No and no.”

Jack nods, “Can we take him home?”

The question is directed at Shen, since Ellis is wheeling the two of you into South 9.

“Yeah, even if he wasn’t your kid, I wouldn’t think monitoring was necessary. I think the fall scared the sitter more than anything. He was awake and alert when she brought him in.”

Jack nods, “Good.”

Shen pats his shoulder, “I’ll go get the discharge paperwork.”

Jack walks in as Ellis is walking out, she smiles at him, “Best patient we’ve had all night, boss,”

Jack rolls his eyes and waves her off.

It isn’t surprising to find you laying with him in the bed, his smaller body sprawled over yours.

“Well, I guess he’s sleeping with us tonight, huh?”

The question is directed at you, but a small voice answers.

“Yes, I am.”

#the pitt x reader #jack abbot x reader #dr jack abbot x reader #angst?#just incase #cw parenting #cw child #🐝 writes requests #🐝 writes: the pitt #🐝 writes #please let me know what you think!!!

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pacifistsworstnightmare · 27 days ago

Text

PAY IT FORWARD — dad!touya todoroki

there will always be tragedy in loving someone as flammable as todoroki touya, but when the dust settles and what's set ablaze has finally burnt to nothing— you and the proof he loved someone will be there still, despite it all. despite everything.

a/n : know that writing this ruined my fucking life And that i have plans for this. pif verse write it down this is happening. also dee im SORRY and i LOVE you

m.list !

you stay in correspondence with shouto for a few weeks after he first reaches out, hearing little things about touya's recovery. about how he still hasn't woken up properly. about how his body is almost entirely burns now— sore, charred skin at least sewn and not stapled. about how he's lost his arm. how he almost entirely lost his life.

you feel like a dog, waiting at the beck and call of a seventeen year old as he updates you on touya's condition— going to sleep every night with your four year old daughter tucked under your arm on his side of the bed and feeling sick to your stomach as you clutch her close to your chest. because you know where dad is, know that he's finished work now. she doesn't, and you've told yourself you won't tell her unless you know she'll get to see him again.

but today is that day.

shouto had called late last night— not texted like he usually does— and talked you through the adrenaline rush and subsequent crash after finding out touya was alive. finding out he was awake. and that he was alone.

sayu— the girl as bright as the kanji of her namesake, the girl who has soothed more wounds than she'll ever understand— waits for dad even still. wanders around the new apartment with you, since your old one was destroyed when gigantomachia tore through most of shizuoka prefecture, holding tight onto your pant leg as you move to start making her breakfast. always wanting to be close to you.

the real clinging had started after she saw the video feed during the attack on jaku hospital, refusing the idea of daycare, and of staying with your parents. refusing to around anybody but you.

it hurts, watching her go from brave and adventurous with every step she took to so cautious and measured in every movement. you hum as she climbs into her chair at the little table in your kitchen, and you settle in next to her as you set her breakfast down in front of her— your own coffee warming your hands as you wrap them around the mug.

"we're gonna go somewhere today, bug." you start as she goes for the blueberries in her bowl first— a small victory, she normally rejects them for being sour because touya said it one time. you take a sip of coffee, nodding as you swallow before tacking on: "after you've filled up your tummy, of course."

she cocks her head at you, white tufts of hair flopping forward into her face as she does, and you push them back fondly. (it always makes something buried down in your chest claw and howl and beg for him back).

"where?"

"central hospital, near where obaa-san lives." the little frown that forms on her lips is almost instantaneous, and you have to swallow back a laugh.

"i don't want to see 'baa-san." you reach out softly to brush a little mess off her cheek, wiping it off with your thumb as you shake your head at her.

"no, we're not seeing her baby. we're actually gonna go into the hospital and visit someone." you watch the cogs turn over in her brain before she, with a mouthful of strawberry, asks.

"who?"

"it's a surprise, babe." sayu doesn't look satisfied with that answer, but you gesture to her bowl of fruit and yoghurt with your pinky as you hold your mug. "finish your breakfast and then we'll get cleaned up."

"hospital is where sick people are. i don't wanna go there." she's staring down at her bowl as she talks, pushing things around with the spoon held tight in her hand before she looks up at you again. "who's there for us?"

"eat, bug. i promise you'll find out when we get there, okay?"

cerulean irises meet yours, big lashes that make her eyes look larger than life batting at you for a second before she nods and goes back to eating.

"okay mama. my blueberries are too sour." so close.

before leaving you'd checked with shouto more than once— maybe more than necessary— that there was zero chance of endeavour being at the hospital, because there was no way you'd ever let him near your child after what he did to his own. not after everything you've heard and seen, the brutal and tragic aftermath in the form of the man you love.

he assured you that he wouldn't be there, that no one beside him from his family would be there. you'd never anticipated ever meeting anyone in touya's family, and you appreciate it not being put on you all at once.

you still feel awkward walking through the hospital, sayu held on your hip and her head on your collar— occasional whispers and questions you answer with soft kisses and whispers of your own before reaching the front desk. the receptionist looks up at you, tired but kind, and asks what you're here for.

"hi, we're, uh- checking in? as visitors, i think."

someone behind you says your name, purposeful and weighted, and you already know it's shouto before you've even turned around. you're sure he recognised touya in sayu before even processing that it was actually you.

"shouto-kun, hi." you hum softly, letting him guide you a little bit out of the way— grateful to be away from the midst of people traffic in the most popular hospital in musutafu. you let sayu down, fine with her leaning back against your legs in front of you.

"just shouto is fine." he nods at you, then his eyes drop down to your daughter, and she offers a shy, and quiet hello. he's already bobbing down to meet her eye with a soft smile.

"hi. i'm shouto. what's your name?" she stares at him with wide eyes as she brings a hand up to her mouth, something to self-soothe in a new environment with ever-changing variables.

"you look like my dad."

"oh." he makes a small noise that sounds like something inside of him deflated. or maybe broke entirely. "well, your dad's my brother."

"oh." she nods at that, like she fully understands the gravity, before breaking out of her shell a little. "my name is sayu, but mama and dad call me bug. you're not allowed, even if you're friends with my dad." he smiles at her, and as you watch them interact you're sure he sees someone entirely different standing in front of him.

"alright, sayu-chan. it's nice to meet you."

"i like your hair, s'got white like mine!" she's pointing at him, her free hand petting her own head uncoordinatedly.

"it does, yeah." shouto nods again, brushing a hair through the white half of his hair before looking back up at you— something unspoken, like grief (grief just like yours), swimming in his eyes. "she looks just like him."

sayu doesn't give you much of a chance to say anything, your mouth barely opening to answer him before she continues to prattle on.

"my dad's busy working, do you have a job?" shouto laughs, something soft and fond as he looks at your daughter.

"uh- no, not yet. i will when i'm a little bit older."

"should get one, my dad's a superhero! that what he does for a job, s'really cool, huh?"

another sad noise claws it's way out of his throat, and he stares at you for a second before nodding at your daughter with the same kind of pretend smile you offer people who ask how you're doing. your heart aches.

he stands back up to his full height, taller than you— probably taller than touya, much to his disgust— and clears his throat before gesturing to the elevator at the end of the hall.

"uh, you two can follow me— his room's up on another floor."

"right, yeah. lead the way."

shouto guides the pair of you onto the fifth floor of the hospital and leaves you in the hall after giving you the room number— wanting to give you space, to allow another family reunion that he's not entirely apart of yet.

"we're gonna go in this room, 'kay? you know why?" she shakes her head softly, looking up at you as she clings at the fabric of your pant leg.

"no mama."

"'cause dad's in there," you watch her perk up immediately, a thousand questions ready to be spewed from her lips before you shake your head and pet her hair gently. "but we've gotta be quiet 'nd calm 'cause we're still in a hospital."

"is he hurt? or sick? s'probably 'cause he's been working too much, mama." your chest feels tight, and you nod at her words. she's always been so intuitive, so smart, and you're infinitely proud even if it hurts. "you should tell him off."

you laugh, a soft and wet sound, as you brush her hair back out of her face.

"okay bug, i'll tell him off for you." she nods, sufficed at that answer, and you brush her hair out of her face again before continuing on. "and yes, dad's hurt right now— but he'll be okay after the doctors fix him all up, okay? so we're gonna be real gentle, 'nd nice and quiet."

"okay mama."

you feel odd as you knock on the door, pushing it open at the affirmative call from inside— the voice, so familiar but hardly recognisable all the same, makes your breathing stutter— and you stop in your tracks at the sight of him. whatever you'd prepared yourself for, it wasn't this, and your stunned silence doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"wouldja look at that, s'that my girl?" his voice is different, but still his— more hoarse now, like it hurts to speak. touya looks more like himself in that hospital bed than you've ever seen him, even with one arm, with no staples holding skin together, and no more black hair— enough towels had been ruined by his attempts to keep his identity hidden from the world. he looks like new, and he looks like home.

"touya," it's all you can say, really, while you stand there as the door to his hospital room clicks shut behind you— all your brain can supply is touya. touya, touya, touya. because he's here, and he's alive, and he's in front of you again.

"where's my other girl—?"

he cocks his head a little, white tufted hair flopping over against a stiff hospital pillow as he gazes at the little girl hiding herself behind your leg— his little girl, who's hiding from him.

he smiles at her, something kind and soft— nothing that the world gets to see, that smile is reserved for his girls— before shifting his expression to an exaggerated pout.

"why're you bein' so shy, huh? s'it scary in here with all the machines?" you feel sayu's fist curl into the fabric behind your knee as she leans her cheek against your legs, staring at her dad but not making any moves just yet. your heart breaks, shatters into a thousand pieces, and you know touya's does too.

you reach back a little, offering her a wobbly smile as you push her hair out of her face and try your best to sound reassuring.

"it's okay, bug, s'just dad— even with machines 'nd bandages. still just him." she looks up at you, leaning her head into your hand for a second before reaching up to grab for it— coming around to stand next to you rather than behind you, with your hand clutched tight in both of hers.

sayu stares at him for a second, like she can't decide what to say, before settling for:

"your hair's like mine now."

touya scoffs out a laugh, a genuine one, and raises his hand to drag his fingers through the white she's talking about.

"it is, huh? maybe i wanted to match you, 'cause you're so cool." she's smiling now, cheeks growing a little rosy as she bounces just a little on the spot.

"can i sit with you?" he's already patting a spot on the bed, shifting over a little to make room.

"mhm, there's a special spot for an insect right here," you clearly don't do a good job of schooling the apprehension in your expression, because he's already waving your concern away with his hand. "s'okay, she can't do any more damage."

"that's not funny, touya." you huff at that, like a child who's stomping their foot at not getting there way, staring at him with wet eyes and a wobbly frown— letting sayu go anyway, knowing she deserves time with her dad. she's waited this long, it's not fair to hold her back from finally getting a cuddle with him.

he grins over at you, sayu already curling up in the space his forearm would've taken up if it was there.

"is a little bit. c'mere, lemme have both my girls close, yeah?"

"i don't wanna be in the way or anything."

he sighs, long and suffering but playful all the same, before waving you over with his hand. you stare at him still, like if you look away he'll disappear and leave you alone again.

"would you just get over here? 'm finally lookin' at you again, just- indulge me, please?" you laugh softly, choked up a little as you finally do give up and move over to his side— not sayu's side, that's hers— and curl into him as best as you can while half standing and half kneeling on the edge of the hospital bed.

"only because you said please." he lets out a quiet, sad laugh at that, leaning over a little to kiss your head— to kiss the crown, your forehead, to nudge your face up to meet his own and kiss you properly.

"missed you so much, y'know that? shouldn't have left you alone— damn it." he mumbles into the top of your head, the both of you now sniffly and trying to keep that dam intact and not have a full blown meltdown in front of your daughter.

"'m so glad you're okay. i was so scared, you know that? stupid man."

"i know baby, i know— never leave you again, you hear me? never." he kisses your head again, arm wrapped around you and hauling you to properly get on the hospital bed— dragging you up to lay against his chest, giving you the perfect view of your daughter like this. and she's cuddled into his side with wide eyes welled up with tears, and when she sniffles quietly touya's head is already snapping down to look at her.

"you cryin', bug?"

"sayu—"

"dad i missed you." she lets out a small sob, and it's the beginning of the end for her holding any kind of emotion back— the rest of her words a garbled mess of sniffles and tears. "can't go to work that long ever again— not even as a superhero."

"okay baby, you got it. dad's not goin' anywhere." he nudges her gently onto his lap, letting her cry it out as he presses kisses to her head and face— and when she eventually calms down enough to be coherent again, she points at his amputated limb.

"where'd your hand go?"

"ah, fell off at the elbow 'cause i didn't eat my vegetables— s'just what happens."

"FOR REAL?!"

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evilmenenjoyer · 6 months ago

Text

City of Love

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!Reader

Summary: Months after winning the Squid Games, you receive an unwanted visit from the man who's been haunting you since the very beginning.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), drinking, sex in a public place, some murderous thoughts. Don't be fooled by the title, it's very much not a fluffy romantic fic lol.

The City of Love.

At least, that's what everyone calls it. It felt like the place to be after all the horrors you had endured in the past year – horrors you don't dare to say a word about to another soul. Friends and acquaintances have told you about how great it is, how beautiful, how magical. About how just a few days here will heal any woes in your heart.

Of course, it didn't work. Now you're just depressed in Paris.

It's not all bad. The Eiffel tower looks just as pretty as it does in pictures, especially late at night when it lights up and sparkles. The historic architecture and cobblestone streets are a nice break from the modern buildings you're used to from Seoul, so different it almost erases the memories sometimes. Never for too long. Just when you think you're slipping back into something resembling normalcy, they return in your nightmares in the shape of blood, pink jumpsuits and children’s games.

This afternoon, it takes the shape of a ghost – a tall, handsome man, whose face you’ve only ever seen in dreams and in the subway lines of Seoul.

All color drains from your face in a matter of seconds, all that pink winter flush.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

He smiles, like you're an old friend. It nearly throws you off your balance by how natural it looks, like he's not forcing it.

“Beautiful city, isn't it? Especially at this time of the year.”

This can't be happening. The whole reason you left South Korea was to put distance between yourself and those horrific games, and all the people associated with them. To just run into one right here, in a different continent, mere months after your victory; it makes you feel like you're about to pass out.

You stand up from your seat and walk right out of the patisserie, leaving your ridiculously overpriced hot chocolate nearly untouched on the table.

You knew, somehow, that he would follow you, but you still prayed he wouldn’t. That it had been your imagination, or the PTSD, or anything other than the Salesman himself crossing paths with you in Paris.

“I expected a warmer welcome,” a voice behind you says, making you pause your stroll down the street. Fortunately – or maybe unfortunately – you still haven’t completely lost track of what's real and what's not, and you can tell that voice is real, clear as day. He’s real and here and that terrifies you to your very core.

Turning around to face him, you hate how he still looks every bit as infuriatingly handsome as he did the first time you saw him.

“What are you doing here?” you repeat, your voice shaky and not nearly as incisive ad you’d like it to be.

“Visiting,” he replies. He turns to gaze at the scenery around you. In your hurry to get away from him, you didn't even realize you ended up at the Pont Neuf, the old bridge crossing the Seine River. Dusk settles around the two of you, the purple-ish color of the sky reflected on the river, almost too pretty for this situation. “Like I said, France is quite nice during the winter.”

You scoff. “You expect me to believe it's just a big coincidence that you and I ended up in the same place, five thousand miles away from home, at the same time?”

“Small world, isn't it?”

“I’m serious. I did everything you people wanted. I beat the games, I took the money and I kept my mouth shut. You were supposed to leave me the fuck alone.”

“Did what we wanted?” Something in his smile changes, shifts from warmth to something more sinister. “We never forced you to do anything. Remember that. You brought whatever happened on yourself.”

Cold air rushes over you, drawing a shiver out of you. It's not snowing yet, but it start might soon. It's hard to remember you were once excited for it.

He reaches out, ignoring the warnings in your eyes as he runs a finger over the smooth fabric of your scarf, then wraps it around your neck one more time. It’s almost a tender gesture, if he was someone else entirely. It should have you flinching, or slapping his hand away. Instead, it only makes you freeze in your spot.

“Yves Saint Laurent,” he notes. “I see you’ve been making good use of that money.”

It doesn't sound accusatory, but it feels like it anyway. Even after months, it still feels wrong to use the money, despite all the literal blood, sweat and tears it took to get it. Like you should be gathering it all in a pile and setting fire to it in protest. But what would that change? Why shouldn't you be allowed to use it to build a new life for yourself?

So you stayed in five star hotels. So you bought a few more pairs of Louboutin shoes than necessary. Therapy was out of the question, so this was the next best thing you could come up with for the time being. Best-case scenario, a therapist would think you're a nutcase. Worst case, they’d turn you in to the authorities for confessing to multiple murders you had committed at the Squid Games. You didn’t want to take the risk.

“I thought that was the idea,” you say. The Salesman’s hands are still on the fabric, merely touching it, but that doesn't stop your mind from picturing him gripping it, pulling on it until you suffocate in the garment you bought as some empty, mediocre sign of victory.

“It suits you.” He lets his hands fall with no damage to your throat or to your respiratory system. “Much better than those knock-offs you used to wear.”

It disturbs you that he even remembers that. As far as you know, you were only one of the hundreds of people who had played ddakji with him at the subway station. You remembered every second of it, replayed it in your mind over and over again, but there was nothing particularly memorable about you back then. You lost most rounds. You hoped against hope that he would ask you out, even after your cheek was red and stinging.

That was a different version of you. One that smiled more, even with all the hardships in your life. One that was too naive to realize she was selling her soul to the devil from that very first game of ddakji.

“Since the city brought us together,” the Salesman says, “I’d like to buy you a drink.”

It would be impossible to keep the surprise from your face if you’d tried. Those are words you would've loved to hear all those months ago, and now that he says them, you can barely draw enough air into your lungs to tell him to fuck off.

“Why? So you can kill me the second we’re off the street?”

He chuckles, like he finds your confusion amusing. “Why would I do that?”

“Isn't that why you're here?” Why else would it be, after all? Maybe it's part of their sick games; to give one person the illusion of victory, let them enjoy the money for a few months, then go after them and kill them. Or worse, pull them back in.

“If I wanted to kill you, I could do it anywhere.”

You suppose there's no arguing with that, but you're not sure if it makes you feel better. Good news: you're still breathing. Bad news: you're still breathing only until he allows you to.

“You still didn't tell me why you came after me, then,” you point out.

“Let's have a drink, and I’ll tell you.”

You must be insane for even considering this. The naive girl that had first seen him in the subway, coming home late at night from work, would be enthusiastically urging you to go. You’re supposed to know better than her.

“One drink,” you say. “Then you go home and never contact me again.”

His smile widens. “I know a nice place.”

He brings you to a piano bar just a few blocks away from the bridge. It's a fancy place, the kind that makes you feel underdressed even in your designer clothes. He blends right in – not only because of the sleek, tailored suit, but because of his demeanor, the natural elegance with which he carries himself.

Not for the first time, you wonder if he was born into wealth, or if he was ever like you. Someone who had to claw his way out of poverty. You can't picture it, but there's so much you don't know about him. It's what makes him so scary and confusing to you, but also so damn intriguing.

He orders for you before you have the chance to open your mouth. Dom Pérignon, two glasses. You raise your eyebrows once the waiter walks away.

“Are we celebrating something?”

“Your victory.”

The response makes your stomach drop. “I don't want to celebrate that.” Not with anyone, but especially not with him.

He gives a small shrug. “Just a special occasion, then.”

The dimmed, warm lights of the bar make the place feel so intimate, almost romantic in a sense. You don't know what to make of it, so you force yourself to look away from him, even when you can still feel his stare unflinching on you. Luckily, the waiter shows up just in time, pouring you both glasses of the bubbly drink and leaving the bottle in a bucket on the table.

You turn back to the Salesman, glaring at him. “I said one drink, not one bottle.”

“You never specified,” he replies, fake innocence in his eyes. “Gives us more time to catch up. Maybe even play a game, for old time’s sake.”

The mere mention of a game makes you want to run away, to lock yourself in the restroom and refuse to come out. It has to be intentional; he has to know what kinds of things would be running through your head, after everything you’d gone through. You take a long gulp of the champagne, nearly done with the entire glass in one go. You can't let him get to you like this. You do your best to look unbothered.

“Do you walk around with ddakji tiles everywhere?” you ask. “Just in case you find someone who wants to play?”

That earns a soft laugh out of him. “No, not ddakji.”

He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out what looks like a standard deck of cards.

“Have you ever played blackjack?”

You have, but hesitation is written all over your features. “What if I don't want to play?”

“Do you think I’d force you?” he asks, like you're a fool for even thinking so. “Like I said, you were never forced to do anything. It's your choice.” He sips his own champagne in a much classier, more contained way than you. Like he's happy to draw this out for hours, rather than wanting this night to be over as soon as possible. “But you’ve beaten much harder games before. This should be nothing for our big victor, right?”

There's a challenge in his voice, in his eyes. You should know better than to fall for it. So why is there a part of you that still feels like you have a point to prove? That feels like, with a little bit of luck and skill, you can finally beat this man at his own game?

“Fine.” You cross your arms over the table. “Let’s do this.”

Pleased with your answer, he shuffles the cards in his hands. You watch him, almost as mesmerized as you’d been watching him play ddakji at the subway station. It's so hard not to get lost in it, but you refuse to look away in shyness and hesitation again, keeping your eyes on him as you sip the rest of the champagne in your glass.

He refills it before placing four cards on the table: two facing upwards for you, one face-down and one face-up for himself, the dealer.

The rules are simple: your cards all together need to get as close to 21 without going over. Whichever one of you gets the closest wins the round. You have a nine and a four, totaling thirteen. The Salesman has a five, and a card that's invisible for you.

“Hit me,” you say, figuring your odds can't be too bad.

He places one more card to your pile: a seven. Twenty in total. Your heart speeds up inside your chest, already triumphant even before the end.

He reveals all his cards to you: the five you’ve already seen, a nine, and a three. Seventeen. Your smile widens, relief washing over you like you’d just escaped a near-death experience. You don't think beating a game, no matter the kind, will ever not feel like this again.

“Not bad,” he compliments. He reaches into another pocket for his wallet, drawing a hundred euro note and pushing it towards you on the table.

You just stare at it with an eyebrow raised, baffled and, frankly, a bit offended. With the tip of your index finger, you push the bill back to him.

“Do you really think I still need your money?”

“It's just symbolic,” he argues, but still tucks the money back into his wallet. “Of course, we can bet on other things too, if you’d prefer.”

“What kind of things?”

“Whatever you want. You won.”

“Whatever I want?” A grin stretches across your lips as you lean forward on the table. “Like a dare?”

He leans forward as well, like he wants to meet you in the middle. His eyes never leave yours. “Like a dare.”

You wonder just how far he’d take this game, if he would do something outrageous or serious just because you told him to. Maybe not. But even this is the kind of power that you never, ever imagined you would have over this man.

“Okay. Let me see your wallet.”

He hands it over without a fight. You rummage through all of it, ignoring all the cash and instead looking for something else, anything personal. But there's nothing. No family photos, no old receipts, not even a condom tucked inside one of the pockets. At last you find his ID license, the name Park Ha-Joon listed beside a smiling picture of him that looks so normal you almost want to laugh.

“It's not your real name, is it?”

He smiles. “Smart girl.”

“It was worth a shot.” You close the wallet and hand it back to him.

He shuffles the cards, hands them over again. Seven and six. You tap the cards in a sign for him to hit you with one more.

“Do you really want to know why I came to see you?”

Your eyes snap in his direction, not even looking at the new card that’s placed in front of you.

“I thought you’d be one of the first to die in a place like that.” He looks focused on the game as he talks, “When I found out you were the winner, I wanted to see it for myself.”

Your throat tightens, making it hard to draw in my next breath. You look around yourself, as if trying to make sure you're really here and not at that disturbing colorful scenario, or at the bunk beds in the dorm. Still the piano bar. Warm lights, soft chatter of conversation, piano notes ringing through the air. The mental image of that place still doesn't vanish from your mind.

“See what, exactly?” you ask, even though you know it would be better not to.

“If you truly earned it, or if you’re just one more piece of trash who got lucky, like all the others before you.”

Your hand must twitch, an involuntary movement you're not even aware of, and the Salesman places another card to your pile. You look down at it in horror, realizing all the cards together total to twenty-three.

“I didn't say hit me,” you protest.

“You tapped. You know that's the sign.” He looks over the cards again, as if just noticing the source of your distress instead of directly causing it. “Too bad.”

It's not fair, and you both know it, but you doubt pointing it out will make a difference. You bite your tongue around any words as well as the lump that's formed in your throat, tears trying to rush to the surface. Your gaze meets his and holds it.

“Are you going to slap me?”

He’s still for a moment, considering it. It's one thing to hit you in the face in a mostly-empty subway station late at night, and another entirely to do it in this sophisticated bar, with all these people around as witnesses. Still, you don't doubt that he would do it. You hold yourself back from flinching when his hand comes out, bracing yourself for the impact.

It never comes. Instead, his hands merely cup your cheeks, tilting your face to face him fully. He looks at you like he's studying you, his expression unreadable.

“Not now. I want something else,” he says. “A round of shots.”

His grip on your face is firm, but he runs the pad of his thumb over the curve of your cheekbone, like wiping away a teardrop that never fell. A gesture that can only be described as affectionate, and it's messing with your head way more than the slaps on the face did.

You nod.

He holds on for just a second too long before he lets you go. He orders the shots to the waiter – you pay no attention to the brand, or even the type of booze –, and you don't say another word until after they're placed in front of you on the table, small glasses so clean they gleam under the light.

“I crawled my way out of that hell,” you tell him. “You have no idea what I had to do to survive. You don't get to sit here and tell me I didn't fucking earn it.”

He looks more amused than anything. “To kill for necessity, anyone can do. It doesn't make you as special as you think it does.” He nods towards the shot on the table, reaching for his own. “Drink.”

You count one, two, three in your head before throwing the shot back, unable to suppress a grimace when the drink comes down your throat like liquid fire.

“Why do you wanna get me drunk so bad?”

He empties his shot glass as well. “Drinking together ensures none of us has an advantage.” He picks up the deck of cards again, before you ever have the chance to tell him you’ve had enough of this game. The words die down in your throat.

One more round. Your cards add up to seventeen.

It’s too risky to ask for one more card; anything higher than four would mean an instant loss. Only then you notice the sweat under your palms, the rush in your ears overpowering the piano music in the background. You force yourself to take a deep breath, to remember that your life is not on the line anymore and losing doesn't mean certain death, even though it feels like it.

He reveals his cards. Eighteen.

“Fuck.”

He seems pleased with himself, accessing you as you brace yourself for whatever he has in mind for you now.

“Come a little closer,” he orders.

You frown, but you find yourself obeying without much questioning, getting up from your chair to slide to the seat next to him on the booth.

He pours you both more Dom Pérignon, and this time he doesn't have to tell you to drink. You focus on the way the bubbles dance inside your mouth, if only to have something to distract yourself from his proximity, from the faint smell of his cologne or from the fact he still hasn't told you what he wants from you for losing this round

His hand lands on your thigh.

You jump in surprise, and his hand tightens its grip there, digging into your skin and keeping you in your seat. Your eyes widen and search for his, a question clear in them.

With his free hand, the Salesman pushes the cards in your direction. “You’ll be the dealer now,” he says, “and for each time you lose, I get to keep my hands on you for one more round.”

Say no, you tell yourself. Say something. A better, stronger woman would throw the champagne in the glass on his face and walk right out of this bar. Instead, you find yourself still as a statue, a sudden rush of warmth overflowing your senses – first, it rises to your face, coloring your cheeks red, then it travels lower to the pit of your stomach and down right into the space between your legs.

You can’t even tell if it’s the alcohol, spreading through your bloodstream and bringing a buzzing sensation to your head that’s not all unpleasant, or the fact you haven’t been touched like this in what feels like forever, or simply the man sitting next to you. How many times had you fantasized about this, until you realized that he was the catalyst of your ruin?

Maybe even a few times after that.

You take the deck of cards. He grins like he knew you would, like a master pleased with a dog following his command. You want to wipe that look off his face, but you can barely concentrate enough to properly shuffle the cards.

If you felt like you were fighting for your life before, it’s nothing compared to right now. The hand doesn’t move, doesn’t so much as twitch until the very final moments of the round, when you realize the two of you are tied. A fingertip slides up the fabric of your stockings until it stops at your knee, your skin erupting in goosebumps following the movement. Your heart beats so hard inside your chest you can barely hear the chatter of people around you as the bar fills in with people.

You lose the next round, and the next, and the one after that. You can’t even tell if you’re doing it on purpose anymore.

With each passing minute that you don’t push him away, that you allow him to test and cross your boundaries, he gets more daring, drawing shapes in the perimeter of your leg and curling into your inner thigh. Your chest rises with a breath that comes tumbling out, the sound of it way too close to a whimper for your liking.

You can tell he notices it instantly, observant and apparently fluent in your body language like he’s spent years of his life studying it. He takes the opportunity to let his hand wander under your skirt, to the spots it hadn’t covered yet.

That’s enough. You need to win this next round.

It’s like, for once, God listens to your prayers. Your cards add up to an even, perfect twenty-one to his nineteen.

He retrieves his hand as if on cue. You thought you would be gasping in relief, but what comes out instead is a pitiful, almost desperate don’t.

He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t as in stop?” he asks. “Or as in don’t stop?”

Your body answers the question for him before your mind can even process what happened, grabbing his hand and pulling it to the spot where it was. Your skin comes ablaze the second he touches you again, like his touch is charged with electricity.

“Did you know,” you can feel his breath so close to you when he speaks, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “that you were the first person who ever challenged me to play ddakji at the subway? Usually it’s the other way around. Nobody but you ever made the first move.”

It’s hard to concentrate on his words like this, with his body leaning into yours and his hand that still touches you under the table and– whoa, that is not your thigh. The solid press against your core makes your whole body twitch, but you don’t jerk away. You try to focus on the memory.

“I didn’t give a fuck about the game,” you reveal. “I just wanted you to notice me.”

“I know.” He draws small, precise circles over you. “Do you ever think about how I would’ve left you alone otherwise?”

Of course you do, more than you would ever admit. But having him confirm it hurts. It’s bad enough to know you’re the one who caused all the trauma you’ve been through since meeting him, that you could’ve just carried on with your life, shitty as it as, if only you weren’t a foolish girl with a crush on a stranger. But to be in his arms right now, your head falling over his shoulder and your lips releasing a tiny whimper; it just makes it all the more fucked up.

“Was it worth it?”

The smile on your lips is devoid of any humor. “Never.”

“Let me prove to you that it was.”

Just like that, everything stops. He scoots away from you in the booth and stands up, bringing all the heat with him aside from the faint lingering warmth on your face. He leaves a few bills over the table, enough for the entire tab, and walks away.

He doesn’t head towards the front door, instead making his way to the opposite direction. You watch him, confused, for a few moments before you trail after him, past the kitchen and the restrooms until you see the red glow of an exit sign.

A chilly breeze rushes over you the second you step outside, and you expect to see him walking into the dark narrow street. But he’s waiting for you, leaning against the brick wall behind him. He raises his eyebrows in that same condescending way he’s done all night, daring you to make the next move.

You don’t hesitate for even a second longer. You grab a fistful of his impeccable suit jacket and pull him closer, crashing your lips together.

From the start, it’s not sweet or gentle. He digs his fingers into your hips hard enough to bruise, wasting no time before he lifts you up into the air and pins you against the wall. You gasp into his mouth, parting your lips and practically begging his tongue inside. Your legs part almost in unison, allowing him to settle between them and effectively trap you, his larger frame blocking any exit.

As if you would dream to get away.

In one swift movement, he reaches between your legs and rips at the fabric of your stockings, the sound echoing through the empty street. You’re already making quick work of his belt; or trying to, frustrated by your lack of mobility from his position. He doesn’t seem willing to let you go, so he does it himself instead, pulling his pants down just enough to free himself from the confines of his underwear.

You’ve soaked through your panties in whatever time it took to play all those rounds of blackjack. It felt like it was drawn-out for hours, but you know it couldn’t have been more than just a few minutes. He moans when he feels it, before he even pushes into you – a heavenly, otherworldly sound, one you want to hear again and again. You push your hips towards him, feeling yourself throb when he rubs his length over you, burning hot where skin meets even though everything around you is cold. He rewards you with another sound that you drink right in as you deepen the kiss, happy to never have your lips separate from each other ever again.

He pushes the fabric of your panties to the side and thrusts into you without a warning, drawing a strangled, sharp gasp from you. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to the invasion, setting up a punishing pace that pushes you against the wall hard with every thrust. You claw at his back, losing the ability to form coherent thoughts, helpless to stop it as he all but consumes you like this is his last chance to.

“Ah– fuck,” you have to break away from his lips to attempt to draw in some air, your breaths and sounds interrupted by the rhythmic, vicious snaps of his hips into yours. He takes the opportunity to tilt his head and follow the line of your jaw with his lips, to mouth kisses and graze his teeth over your throat.

Hands find their way under pieces of clothing, trying to cling to as much bare skin as they can. He does most of the work, still holding you up in the air with the help of the wall (you curl your toes just to test the waters, the ones on the foot closest to the ground, and they barely touch the pavement), bouncing you on his cock however he sees fit, and it’s embarrassing how close you are already just from this.

“Fuck, baby, that’s so good.”

It’s intoxicating how vocal he is, all the grunts and moans he breathes into your neck, how it rips more sounds out of you than you would usually make. The street is completely silent save for the two of you, not another soul in sight. You could kill him right here and he would never see it coming. Gut him with the knife tucked away in your purse, leave him on the pavement gasping for his last breath. Who would catch you? You have enough money to run to yet another country, to give yourself a new identity and reinvent yourself as many times as you want.

The purse is on the floor where you’d carelessly let it fall, out of reach. Still you run your hands down over his bottom, feeling for any guns or weapons he may have tucked into the back of his waistband, or hidden in his pockets. There’s nothing, but you don’t have a lot of time to be disappointed about it before you’re coming with a high-pitched, broken shout, like your orgasm has taken you by surprise. He holds you up, squeezing you against the wall for support, the only thing stopping you from falling straight to the floor.

The Salesman follows right after, a stream of goods and fucks and your name falling from his lips as he spills deep into you. You wish you had it in you to be offended, to tell him off for it. But all you can think about is how much you wish you knew his name so you could shout it, gasp it, whisper it, for as long as he keeps holding you this tight.

#salesman x reader #the salesman x reader #the recruiter x reader #gong yoo x reader #squid game x reader #the salesman x you #my fics

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trh0d3s · 21 days ago

Text

Manager in the making!

Part1! After the prologue 😈

Saja boys x human manager reader

The morning light floods the living room waking you up from a good ass dream you were having… it was definitely not world domination via conquering the agency and kicking bobmagatron 2000 the man child in the face! No…Definitely not...

The regrets of last night’s fridge raid hitting your stomach and your wallet.

You sit up on your couch kicking a half empty can of soda that was dangerously close to your foot onto the floor.…on your phone! “ah shit-“Cursing more awake than ever you throw your blanket on the wet spot trying dry up where it got on your phone. This happened once but with grape juice and you missed a call from an employer which ended up getting you fired and passing your opportunity to someone else. Picking up the precious object with your poor blanket checking over it before turning it on. A sigh of relief it still works! Ok, maybe it’s still broken cause that can’t be a reply to one of your ads…?

You walk to the kitchen in your one-bedroom apartment eyes glued to the screen in both shock and horror mindlessly bumping into the chairs and small dining table to make it to the coffee maker. It was from craigslist…the one you hesitating to put up, you heard the stories from there and REALY don’t want to manage some kink or underground drug ring...

It’s all you got right now so if it’s something weird just turn tail and run! Maybe report to the police too if it’s the drug ring route. You punch in the buttons for the coffee to start brewing not too keen on drinking 2-day old coffee you left on a hurry to a company meet and greet.

Fromk:Xx//Demonboy//[email protected]

To:[email protected]

Subject: We need a manager

We have looked at your skills and are willing to pay a set price of your choosing for your skills to manage our start up boy band.

The mug misses your mouth reading through the email. Boy band? Was expecting something off from craigslist also what is up with that email? I know I was 13 once but as a professional email…?

This boy band consists of 5 members you won’t need to worry about money whatever you need or want will be given to you. If you agree meet us at this location/_________/ at 12pm.

Very vague and mysterious… that place is only a couple blocks down, a small square with various food stands around. Popular spot for weekends and popups. ”Weird…bit at least its public” You mumble mid sip at your coffee, looking at the time 11.:40…OK YOU WILL QUESTION THIS LATER. Dumping your drink in the sink you rush to your room to get dressed something professional casual for a good first impression. This might be potential kidnapping but if the off chance it isn’t you have to be ready to wow to dazzle and get that bank! Cleaning up your living room will be held off for later, you shove your feet into your shoes grabbing you keys and phone. This might be your chance! (What do you think of that L this is my perfect victory-! I mean who said that!?)

The walk to small square was short but loud everyone was buzzing about the new single that dropped last night. Thought the girls were supposed to go on break before the idol’s awards? Guess if you love your craft every break is too long. Screens showing the countdown passed you, people huddling together on their phone staring at the screen with mumbles and squeals of excitement.

Ok what would a group of boy band wannabes look like? Dressed to the nines or playing it lowkey? You pass a empty alley that branched off to only one shop the smell of earth and herbs making its way to where you were. Weird I don’t see a group of 5 waiting for me? Can’t expect them to hold a sign to pinpoint where they though...

“If this is a scam and someone is playing with me, I’m punching someone” Mumbled under your breath scanning the crowd, is it me or wasn’t there light behind me? I look off my phone in front of me what used to be the sun was blocked off by a wall...? “What the…he-Ack“ You were pulled into the same empty alley you passed with a yelp two hands tugging you in by the shoulders. A slender finger twirls you into a dip the two hands prior long gone you were going to fall but it was misdirected to…. this?!

You open your eyes to a jaw dropping sight a clear face looking down at you with no expression before pulling you back up your feet with a smirk. Like he was playing with you, amusement to your reactions shown on his face. Grabbing your bearings against the stone wall beside you the wall that was blocking the sun was actually....5 HOT MEN?!

Maybe you weren’t being lied to and craigslist decided to bless you with something not weird and dangerous! Your awestruck staring was cut off by what looked to be the leader stepping forward. “Your _____ right? Accepted my proposal as manager?” His voice was smooth and fluid like liquid like he was nudging you into the direction he wanted.

“Ah yes that’s me! Are you…” You look back to your phone to read out his email receipt. “xxDemon boy xx?...” Voice unsure to even be saying that aloud. He coughs into his fist slightly embarrassed as the rest of his group look at him in pure bewilderment or is it something else? The baby faced one of the group was just dead-on staring at him.

“yes… That’s me. But forget that my names Jinu” He cuts into the silence before addressing the boys behind him like they rehearsed this. “Abbey” At his name the man with short pink hair and very much not fitting shirt stepped forward striking a pose…How is he that big did he eat the other idols in training? His shirt looked like it was about to break at the seams if he strikes another pose. Your eyes make their way down his form honing in on the 8 pack he’s showing off with zero shame.

Someone else stepped in front of him big heart shaped pink hair striking a pose before blowing a kiss in your direction. “Romance” Jinus voice behind you placing a hand on your shoulder momentarily distracting you as a blue hair enters your vision staring you down with a cool nonchalant look. “Baby” Ok little on the nose with these names…he just gives you a nod eyes set on a bored expression brushing his blue hair out of his eyes. “and that’s mystery” Jinu turns your attention to the last one in the group grey hair in his face covering his eyes but it felt like he was staring into your soul…

Was he growling or is that you thinking crazy with these majestic men around you? Jinu spins you around to face him as abbey holds mystery back from baring his teeth. “We are the Saja boys” This boy strikes his own pose before straightening up smoothing his shirt over. “And you will be our manager, yes?”

You can’t help but blink at them before going into professional mode, turning a complete 360, you can see the potential now. You are going to skyrocket these men! “What type of boy band are you? What music are you aiming for? Synthpop, dance rock, artpunk? Y'all do seem the type for bubblegum pop.” You start shooting out different genres of music found in Kop in rapid fire. It surprises them how fast you can switch into the manager persona your destined to be. You start walking around the boys, analyzing them, stopping in front of mystery to stare at the mass of hair where his eyes are supposed to be, before moving on with a hum of approval.

Before Jinu can reply you raise a hand shutting him up already making the loop around the 5 freakishly tall and handsome men. “I can work with this. Ok, I accept your offer I will be your manager” you say triumphally arms crossing over your chest with a proud grin on your face. This is your big break! Nothing will stop you from getting this boyband into top five! Bob won’t see what’s coming! Mischievous giggling erupts from you as you plot silently in your mind the proud grin turning smug.

“Really? You can’t take it back now you know” Jinu voices from beyond your plotting pulling up a paper from somewhere behind his back for you to sign you don’t think too much of it. Not batting an eye at the way it shimmered or seem to come from nowhere too lost in the fantasy of recognition from the agency that failed, you sign it on the dotted line.

“We want to debut tomorrow” Ok, that snaps you out of your daydreams the contract long gone.

“Tomorrow?!” You cough out face molding into to shock the boys could only smile at your thoughtlessness. You ran in headfirst at the first opportunity given to you common for humans, and they know that.

“Yea tomorrow or can our wonderful manager not do it?” Abby butts in, smugness lacing his words as he stepped forward pulling the arms crossed behind his head move. Was he trying to intimidate you with his muscles?

“Can’t be too hard for you right? Oh, amazing manager” This time it was baby that stole your attention eyes lidded with that same grin everyone was sporting, eyes no longer bored but focused directly on you. He leaned on mystery who continued to stare into your existence with a blank face that slowly turned into that same fucking smile!

You’re probably going to regret this in the long haul. Who fucking cares you’re going to live your dream! You’re going to make them the next face of Korea. No, the entire world!

You look at your phone to check the time before nodding and thinking, “I can work with 24 hours, give or take.” Yeah, nothing is going to stop this manager in the making!

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Extra: :9

#Kpdh #kpop demon hunters x reader #kpop demon hunters spoilers #kpop demon hunters romance x reader #kpdh x jinu #kpop demon hunters #Kpdh baby x reader #kpdh x gn reader #x gender neutral reader #Kpdh abbey x reader #Kpdh mystery x reader #These boys are too fucking fine #Bout to arrest them

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stxrrywoo · 2 months ago

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A LITTLE PERSUASION ── j.yh

synopsis ; even when you were angry or annoyed at him, yunho always had the perfect way to persuade you into forgiving him.

pairing(s) ; bf!yunho x f!reader

☆ ── wc. ; 2.6k ☆ ── genre ; smut with little to no plot ☆ ── tw. ; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cusing, yunho is a bit of a perv..., light somnophilia (everything is consensual!!!), kissing, oral (f. receiving), biting/marking, unprotected sex, dom!yunho x sub!reader, size kink, manhandling, bludge kink, clit play, petnames (pretty girl, baby, my love...), multiple orgasms, fingering, cum eating, creampie, light dumbification, lmk if I missed anything!!!

You sat on the couch in the living room, phone in hand, as you looked down at the time. It was well after ten o’clock, almost five hours after the time that Yunho said that he would be home. He had promised that he would just be gone for a little bit and he’d be home for dinner and to spend time with you seeing as you both have been extremely busy with work.

You messaged him once, not wanting to seem clingy, but in reality, you wanted to blow his phone up and ask where he was. However, the annoyance that bubbled in your gut would only lead to you saying something you’d regret, so you just opted not to say anything. But you were tired and didn’t want to wait any longer because, at this rate, he’d be out until well after midnight.

Standing from the couch, you blew out the candle that was sitting on the coffee table before shutting the lights off and heading to the bedroom. Once inside, you changed into your pajamas, a pair of sleep shorts, and one of Yunho’s shirts that looked like a minidress on you.

Looking over, you caught your reflection in the full-length mirror that you had propped against the wall. Seeing your reflection, you suddenly got an idea, and a small smirk crept onto your lips. Reaching over, you pulled your phone off the bed and took a few steps closer to the mirror.

Opening your camera, you took a few photos of yourself that you knew would grab the tall male’s attention before going over to his messages. Upon seeing the ‘delivered’ at the bottom of your last message, you rolled your eyes before typing up another text and adding the photos before hitting send.

‘Don’t expect me to be up whenever you decide to come home.’

Yunho sat back on the couch with a triumphant smile after seeing the victory screen pop up; Wooyoung and San cheered loudly, seeing as they had been working all day to get this victory. Hearing his phone ding, Yunho reached into his pocket and turned the screen on, but then he felt his heart nearly drop out of his ass when he saw the time.

“Shit.” He cursed lowly, tossing the controller to the side before opening his phone and seeing your messages. His jaw tightened upon seeing your most recent message, followed by the photos, he knew you were probably pissed, but god, did you look good in his shirt. The piece of clothing nearly swallowed you, and he could feel his dick twitch in his sweats.

Standing from the couch hurriedly, he bid Wooyoung and San goodbye before practically darting out of the apartment, his phone clutched tightly in his hand. He was sure that he ran a few red lights on the way back to your shared apartment, but he couldn’t care less.

Walking into the apartment, Yunho was met with darkness and silence; he was sure he could hear his own rushed heartbeat echoing. Slipping out of his shoes, he quietly made his way down the hall to your shared bedroom and pushed the door open.

Inside, he could make out your still form on the bed, your figure outlined by the faint glow of the moon coming in from the bedroom window. He swallowed thickly as he took note of how the blanket wasn’t even covering your body fully, leaving your lower half sticking out.

Taking careful steps towards your sleeping form, he licked his lips, seeing how peaceful you looked in the moment, thinking of all of the ways he could get you to forgive him. You had always been so easy to coax when you were completely ruined on his cock.

Moving the blankets out of the way, we crawled up the bed, slipping between your thighs after pulling them apart. The small whine that left your lips made his cock throb, a groan catching in his throat as he tried to be as quiet as possible.

His lips ghosted over the sensitive skin of your thigh, trailing up until he got to your clothed core. Your scent was intoxicating, and Yunho felt like he could cum right then and there just from that alone. With a soft groan, he pressed his nose against you, adding just enough pressure against your clit to have your body shifting.

Yunho stilled his movements until you went limp once more before leaning up just enough to grab the hem of your shorts, pulling them down your hips without waking you. Tossing them to the side, he retook his rightful spot between your thighs, a low groan pulled from his lung at the sight of your bare cunt.

“Fuck you were just waiting for this, weren’t you pretty girl?” His deep voice vibrated against your skin as he pressed his lips against your thigh. A small sigh fell from your lips when his tongue parted your folds before wrapping his lips around your clit, sucking gently.

He loved that even when you were asleep, your body would respond to him; the weak whimpers that left your parted lips left his mind reeling. A part of him wanted to keep you asleep, but another, bigger part of him wanted to wake you up.

Throwing all caution to the wind, he picked up his pace, eating you out like a starved man, causing your body to twitch underneath him. Moving one hand from your thigh, he traced over your slit, gathering your building arousal before slipping two fingers in with ease.

“Y-Yun?” You choked out, waking from your slumber as an overwhelming pleasure crept into your mind. A soft moan slipped past your lips when he pressed deeper into your spongy walls, finding just the spot he was looking for.

Detaching his lips from your glistening pussy he peeked up at you with a lopsided smile, “Hey baby, I’m sorry for being late. You’ll forgive me, won’t you?” His bottom lip jutted out into a pout as he curled his fingers, causing your back to arch.

“Yunho!” Your brain felt like it was on overdrive yet hazy all at the same time; no coherent thought was present. A high-pitched moan tore from your lungs as he latched back onto your clit, teeth grazing over the small bundle of nerves, leaving you panting.

You wanted to tell him to fuck off and that you weren’t going to give in that easily, but the way his fingers worked into your velvet walls left all of those thoughts leaving your brain. Yunho, of course, knew this and used it to his advantage as he worked you closer to your release.

“Yun– fuck!” You cursed, hand flying to your mouth when he added a third finger, stretching your walls even more.

Yunho chuckled against you, relishing in the way your thighs had started to tremble around his head. He knew you were close; you just needed a little more to get there. Pulling away from your slick pussy with a lewd ‘pop,’ he gazed up at you.

“Cum for me, pretty girl; let me taste you on my tongue.” He cooed before diving back into your sweet cunt.

His words were all that you needed to topple over the edge, your back arching off of the bed, pushing your hips further into Yunho’s face as you came.

“That’s it, baby, let it all go.” His words were like honey, luring you on as he worked your body through your orgasm.

“Y-Yunho.” You whined, one of your hands tangled in his dark locks as his nose nudged against your aching clit. It wasn’t until you were withering from the burning feeling of overstimulation that he relented his touch.

Pulling his soaping fingers from your cunt he brought them to his lips, licking off all of your essence, causing you to whine behind your hand as you covered your face. Yunho chuckled deeply as he crawled over your body, grabbing your wrist and pulling it away from your face.

“Don’t get all shy on me now, baby; you always look prettiest like this.” He leaned down, capturing your lips with his in a deep, messy kiss.

Your hand wrapped around the back of his neck as you moaned against him at the taste of yourself on his lips. His hands crept under your his shirt, squeezing at your soft flesh but not quite taking the clothing off.

You started to sit up so he could pull it off, but he was quick to stop you, his lips trailing down to your neck. “Leave it on; you look so cute in it.” He mumbled against your skin before biting down softly, eliciting another sweet moan from your swollen lips.

“Yunho, please.” You clawed at his shirt, your core aching as you felt his hips press against yours.

“Please, what, pretty girl?” He cooed at you as he pulled away, leaning over you once more.

“Fuck me, please. I need you so bad, Yun.” You cried out, tears of need and desperation brimming in your eyes, causing Yunho to pout at you mockingly.

“But you haven’t forgiven me yet, how could I possibly fuck you?” He spoke softly, hand creeping up to cup your cheek, wiping a stray tear away.

“I forgive you, just please fuck me already!” You whined, staring up at him with teary doe eyes, and he could feel his dick harden even more, causing him to groan.

In the next moment, Yunho had his arm wrapped around your hip, lifting them off of the bed before grabbing the pillow next to your head that you weren’t using. Placing it under your body, he laid your lower half back down before making sure you were comfortable.

Sitting up, he shrugged out of his sweats and underwear, letting his aching cock spring free. He then laid his large hand on your thigh, pulling them apart once more.

A small whine fell from your lips at the sight of your boyfriend's massive size, you were always sure that you would never be able to take him fully, but he has proved you wrong time and time again. You were sure that tonight wouldn’t be any different as he moved closer to you, teasing your entrance with his bulbous tip.

“You ready, pretty girl?” He asked, looking up at you catching sight of you staring at him with wide eyes, but you nodded nonetheless. Chuckling, he leaned over you, lips brushing against yours once more, “What did I say about words?”

“Yes, Yunho, please!” You whined, hips rolling up to try and urge him, but his grip was strong, keeping your lower body still.

His lips then met yours as he pushed into your tight walls slowly, swallowing all of the sweet sounds that you made. A choked gasp fell from your parted lips when he bottomed out, hips flush against the back of your thighs.

“I can’t lose you yet, baby; look at me.” Yunho groaned as you squeezed around him, but he caressed your cheek softly. Your hazy eyes tried their best to focus on your boyfriend and his messy hair, but any slight movement of his hips left you on cloud nine.

However, his staying still only made your burning need worse, and you needed him to move. Rolling your hips, a strangled moan fell from your lips as your hand wrapped around his bicep.

“Move. God, please move Yunho.” You choked out, head falling back against the pillows as he kissed down your neck, nipping at your exposed collarbones.

“So impatient, but who am I to deny my baby?” He chuckled before sitting up, grabbing your hips to steady himself.

The first drag of his cock against your walls felt like heaven, but when he slammed back into you, it felt as if all of the air was stolen from your lungs. His pace was anything but gentle; with every thrust, his tip kissed your cervix, leaving you a blubbering mess.

“Y-Yunho!” You cried out his name when he moved just enough to brush over your sweet spot, leaving stars dancing across your vision. Your nails dug into the sheets as you tried to ground yourself, but it was pointless; he was just fucking you too good.

“Fuck baby, look how deep I am.” He groaned as he released your hip to grab your wrist before pressing it against your lower abdomen.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you could feel the outline of his dick against your stomach, but when he pressed down, a choked moan tore from your lips. The pressure left you feeling even more of him as he fucked into you.

Yunho’s whole body felt as if it were on fire, ready to burst at any given moment, but he wasn’t about to cum before you. So releasing your wrist, he moved his hand down until his thumb pressed against your clit, causing your hips to buck in his hold.

A series of broken moans and cries fell from your lips as his pace picked up until he was quite literally fucking you into the mattress.

“Y-Yun– fuck! I’m close, Yun!” You cried out, hand wrapped around his wrist as you felt that coil in the pit of your stomach tighten.

“Cum for me, baby. Make a mess all over my cock.” Yunho’s words were the last straw before the edges of your vision turned white and your body spasmed underneath his. “That’s it, pretty; give it all to me.” He cooed but was cut off by a groan when you tightened around him like a vice.

His breaths started to come out in pants as he fucked you through your orgasm and closer to his own. The grip he hand on your hips was sure to leave behind marks, but neither of you cared at that given moment.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” He chanted, his whole body trembling as he came, painting your walls white with his seed. Slowing to a stop, he laid against you, face buried in your neck as the both of you came down from your highs.

Feeling yourself finally come to, you opened your eyes, glancing down at Yunho as you lifted your hand to run your fingers through his hair.

“You’re such a jerk you know that?” You grumbled, voice still hoarse from the previous activities you two were just involved in.

Both of your bodies shook slightly as Yunho chuckled before he lifted his head from your neck, gazing down at you with that stupid smile you knew would win him anything.

“I’m sorry, my love, I promise I really did just lose track of time.” He told you, leaning down to kiss you softly.

“Mhm, sure.” You hummed against him but wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him again.

The kiss lasted for a few more moments before Yunho pulled away and pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Let’s get cleaned up, and then we can go to bed.” He spoke softly before pulling away, his jaw tight as he pulled out of your still-twitching cunt. Willing himself to not get hard again, he pulled his underwear and sweats back on before getting up to grab a towel.

Once you were cleaned and properly dressed once more Yunho climbed into bed, pulling your smaller frame back against him. His hand laid flat against your stomach as he kissed the back of your head.

“I love you so much.” He spoke gently, and you could feel all of the earlier annoyance wash away, causing you to sigh.

“I love you too, Yun, even when you’re oblivious to time.” You turned your head to look back at him as he laughed softly. The sound left your heart swelling with happiness, and you knew that even if you were annoyed or angry with him, Yunho had his ways of making up for it.

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫 : 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙖 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙨. 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙡𝙮

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flux1563 · 3 months ago

Text

Truth Or Dare ft Eunbi and Minju pt 1

Tags : squirting, creampie

Words : 7k

Minju stumbled upon a forgotten corner of the city park, her heart racing from the excitement of the day. Her latest play had just wrapped up, and the applause still echoed in her ears. The air was crisp with the scent of blooming flowers, a stark contrast to the stuffy theatre she had left behind. She needed a moment to breathe, to absorb the success that had just become a reality.

Her thoughts drifted to Mr. Y/N, her ever-supportive manager. He had worked tirelessly behind the scenes, ensuring every detail was perfect. His guidance had been the backbone of the play, and she knew she couldn't have done it without him. A small smile played on her lips as she thought of his stoic face, which she had caught breaking into a proud grin when she took her final bow.

Eunbi, her best friend, was another person who came to mind. They had shared countless dreams and tears together, and now, Minju's dreams were coming true. She knew Eunbi would be over the moon about the play's success. But there was something else, a tiny secret Minju held close to her heart—Eunbi's hidden feelings for Mr. Y/N. It was an unspoken tension that had woven its way into their friendship, a thread of jealousy Minju tried not to acknowledge.

As she sat on the bench, her phone buzzed with a message from Mr. Y/N. He suggested a small celebration, just the two of them. A quiet drink to toast to the play's success. It was a perfect idea, but Minju's mind wandered to Eunbi, who was probably at home, waiting to hear all about it. A pang of guilt hit her. How could she leave her best friend out of this moment?

Minju's fingers hovered over the keyboard, typing out a reply. "How about we invite Eunbi?" she wrote. "It's only fair she joins us. She's been there through everything." She hit send and took a deep breath, watching as the message vanished into the digital abyss. The thought of the three of them together made her stomach flutter, but she knew it was the right thing to do.

Mr. Y/N's response was swift. "Great idea," he texted back. "Let's make it a party of three."

Minju felt a rush of relief. It was decided. They would celebrate together. She quickly called Eunbi, who squealed with excitement upon hearing the news. "I'll be right there!" she said, her voice bubbly over the line.

When they arrived at Mr. Y/N's apartment, it was as elegant and well-kept as he was. The lights were dim, casting a warm glow that danced across the sleek, modern furniture. Soft jazz music played in the background, setting a relaxed and intimate atmosphere. A bottle of champagne chilled in an ice bucket on the counter, and three flutes were already arranged, ready to be filled.

Mr. Y/N popped the cork with a flourish, the sound echoing in the quiet apartment like a miniature firework. The golden liquid bubbled and foamed, filling the air with the sweet scent of victory and celebration. They clinked their glasses together, the sound ringing out like a toast to their shared success. The first sip was cold and bubbly on Minju's tongue, the taste of triumph in every fizz.

The music grew louder, and Minju couldn't resist the rhythm anymore. She set her glass down and began to dance, her body moving freely to the smooth melody. Eunbi joined her, her laughter infectious as they spun around the room. Mr. Y/N watched them for a moment, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, before he set the bottle aside and took the dance floor too. They moved together, their bodies in sync with the music and their spirits soaring.

As the night went on, the drinks flowed freely, and the conversation grew louder. The tension between Minju and Eunbi dissipated with every laugh and shared glance. They were three friends, celebrating a shared victory, the air thick with joy and camaraderie. The champagne loosened their inhibitions, and the dance floor grew crowded with their laughter and spilled drinks. The music wove through them, binding them together in a moment that felt suspended in time.

Mr. Y/N's living room was a whirlwind of movement and sound. They danced to songs that spanned decades, each tune bringing back a flood of memories and emotions. Eunbi's eyes sparkled as she spun around, her hair flying in every direction. Minju felt a warmth spread through her chest, watching her friend so happy and carefree.

The night grew late, and their laughter grew softer. The music played on, a gentle backdrop to their conversation as they sat down, their glasses refilled and their cheeks flushed. They talked about the play, about the future, and about their friendship. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated happiness, a celebration of not just the play's success, but of the bond they had built over the years.

And as they sipped their champagne, the unspoken tension between Eunbi and Mr. Y/N grew stronger, like a bassline that had been playing under the surface all along. Minju could feel it, but she chose to ignore it, focusing instead on the joy of the moment. After all, it was a night to remember, a night where dreams had come true and friendships had been tested and proven strong.

The three of them sat there, the music a gentle hum in the background, the bubbles of champagne tickling their noses, and the weight of their secrets floating just out of reach. For now, they were just friends, basking in the glow of success. But Minju couldn't shake the feeling that the next act of their lives was just about to begin, and it would be one filled with twists and turns she could never have predicted.

On a whim, she spoke up, "What about we play truth or dare together?"

Mr. Y/N's eyebrows shot up, a glint of surprise in his eyes. "Truth or dare?" he echoed.

"Why not?" Minju said with a mischievous smile. "It's a great way to end the night!"

Mr. Y/N shrugged, his expression a mix of amusement and wariness. "Alright, I'll start," Eunbi said, her eyes shining with excitement. She pointed at Minju. "Truth or dare?"

Minju took a deep breath and decided to go with truth. She had always been the more cautious one, preferring to keep her feelings close to her chest. "Truth," she said firmly.

Eunbi leaned in, her eyes glinting with mischief. "When was the last time you had sex?"

Minju's cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, and she stuttered out, "One week ago," feeling the heat of the question even as she said it. She took a gulp of her champagne, hoping to dull the mortification that washed over her.

Mr. Y/N's gaze remained unwaveringly on Eunbi, his eyes questioning. "Truth or dare?" he asked, his tone even.

Eunbi's cheeks flushed a delicate pink, but she held his gaze without faltering. "Truth," she said, her voice steady.

Mr. Y/N leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. "Who's the person you fantasize about having sex with the most?"

The room grew quieter, the music fading into the background. Eunbi's cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink, and she took a moment before looking directly at Mr. Y/N. "You, Mr. Y/N," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air like a confession, a secret laid bare.

Mr. Y/N's smile froze on his face, his eyes widening slightly before he composed himself. He took a sip of his champagne, his gaze never leaving Eunbi's. "Well," he said after a pause, his voice a little rougher than usual, "now that's quite the truth to share."

The air grew thick with unspoken feelings, and Minju felt a knot form in her stomach. She had hoped to ease the tension with a harmless game, but now it felt like she had thrown a grenade into the room. Eunbi's confession hung in the air, unexploded, but the fuse was burning fast.

Mr. Y/N cleared his throat, the silence stretching taut. "Truth," he said finally, his eyes meeting Minju's.

Eunbi felt a jolt of surprise at his choice. "Who was the last person you had sex with?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

Minju's eyes widened, and she felt her heart drop. She had never thought the game would go this far, but here they were, their deepest secrets laid bare.

"Minju," Mr. Y/N said, his voice softer than she had ever heard it. She felt his gaze on her, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. Instead, she took another sip of her champagne, the bubbles feeling sharp and bitter as they went down her throat.

Eunbi's laugh was forced, a nervous giggle that didn't quite mask the tension in the room. "So, beside her manager, you were her...?" she trailed off, her voice cracking.

Minju's cheeks flamed, and she downed her champagne in one go. The alcohol hit her harder than she expected, making her words tumble out in a rush. "It was amazing!" she exclaimed, her voice carrying a little too loudly. "He was so...so good, I couldn't believe it!"

Eunbi's eyes grew wide, and she took a big gulp of her drink, trying to keep up with the sudden shift in the atmosphere. "You guys are serious?" she managed to ask, her voice a mix of shock and excitement.

Mr. Y/N cleared his throat, his cheeks coloring slightly. "It was a one-time thing, a mistake," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. "We both agreed to keep it professional."

The room was silent for a moment, the music seemingly too loud for the quiet that had settled over them. Then, Minju leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But oh my god, he made me squirt for so long!" she said, her eyes wide with wonder. "It was like nothing I've ever felt before!"

Eunbi's eyes darted between them, her own glass of champagne trembling in her hand. She had never heard Minju talk about sex so openly, especially about someone she was supposed to just be friends with. The room spun slightly, the alcohol making her feel both light-headed and strangely invigorated.

"Alright, Eunbi," Minju said with a playful grin, "you chose dare. Time to get wild!"

Eunbi took a deep breath, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. She had always been the more shy and reserved one of the two, but she didn't want to be outdone. "Okay," she whispered, "I'm ready."

Minju leaned in closer, her voice a seductive purr. "I dare you to strip down until you have nothing left to hide," she said, her eyes gleaming with excitement. Eunbi's heart skipped a beat. She had never done anything like this before, but she knew she had to go through with it.

With shaking hands, Eunbi set her glass aside and began to unbutton her shirt, one button at a time. The fabric slipped away, revealing the lacy bra beneath. She felt Mr. Y/N's eyes on her, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. Instead, she focused on Minju, whose smile grew wider with every piece of clothing that hit the floor.

Finally, she was down to her underwear, her body exposed and vulnerable. She looked up, her cheeks aflame, and met Mr. Y/N's gaze. His expression was unreadable, his eyes dark and intense. She knew he could see her heart racing, could feel the heat radiating from her skin.

"Keep going," Minju urged, her voice thick with excitement. Eunbi took a deep breath and unclasped her bra, letting it fall to the floor. Her breasts, larger than Minju's, bounced slightly from the sudden release, the cool air of the apartment making her nipples tighten. She felt Mr. Y/N's eyes on her, his gaze unyielding, and she couldn't tell if he was appalled or aroused.

With trembling hands, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her underwear, pushing it down over her hips. She stepped out of it, leaving herself completely bare before them. She had never felt so exposed, so...wanted. Her eyes searched Mr. Y/N's, looking for any sign of what he was thinking, but all she found was a heated intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

The room was silent except for the soft jazz playing in the background, each note seeming to amplify the tension. The air was charged with something electric, something she hadn't felt before. She looked at Minju, who was watching her with a look that was half excitement, half concern, and realized that she had gone too far.

Minju's words echoed in her head. "How about you feel Mr. Y/N's skill in sex?" The proposal hung in the air like a question that had no right to be asked, but she found herself unable to look away.

Eunbi's legs parted, almost involuntarily, as she stood before them. She felt a rush of heat between her thighs, her body responding to the intensity in Mr. Y/N's gaze. She didn't say a word, didn't need to. Her actions spoke louder than any confession she could have made. The fabric of the room seemed to stretch tight with the unspoken understanding that this was a pivotal moment, a line that could not be uncrossed.

Without breaking eye contact, Mr. Y/N reached out and cupped her left breast, his thumb brushing over the hardened peak. His touch was firm, sure, and it sent a jolt of electricity through Eunbi's body, making her gasp. She could feel the heat of his hand through her skin, the pressure of his thumb as he teased her. It was a sensation that she had dreamed of for so long, but now that it was real, it was so much more than she had ever imagined.

Minju's voice was a soft whisper from somewhere to her left, "His touch is magic, right?" Eunbi's eyes flickered to her friend, who was watching them with a strange mix of excitement and something else, something that looked suspiciously like hunger. She nodded, unable to form coherent words as Mr. Y/N's other hand joined the first, both now playing with her breasts, kneading and pinching until she was panting with need.

Mr. Y/N leaned in, his breath hot against Eunbi's skin as he whispered, "How was her tits, Minju?" The question hung in the air, a silent challenge. Minju's eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned back in her chair, her own hand sliding up her dress to cup her breast. "Perfect," she said, her voice a sultry purr. "Just the right size to fit in your mouth."

Without missing a beat, Mr. Y/N lowered his head and took Eunbi's right nipple between his lips, sucking gently. The sensation was unlike anything Eunbi had ever felt, and she gasped, her body arching into the touch. His tongue swirled around the sensitive peak, teasing and flicking, while his other hand continued to play with her left breast. The wetness between her thighs grew, soaking the fabric of her dress. She could feel her body betraying her, responding to his touch in a way that was undeniably carnally.

Minju's voice was a soft encouragement beside her. "Look how wet she's getting," she said, her own hand sliding down her body to mimic Mr. Y/N's actions on Eunbi. "Her pussy is begging for you, Mr. Y/N. She's a better squirter than me, I'm sure of it."

Mr. Y/N's eyes shot to Minju, a flash of something unreadable crossing his face. He released Eunbi's nipple with a pop, leaving it glistening with his saliva. "Is that so?" he murmured, his eyes dark with desire.

Minju nodded eagerly. "Oh yes," she said, her hand sliding between her own legs. "You've got to see it. It's like a fountain."

Mr. Y/N's eyes remained on Eunbi, his hand drifting down to the apex of her thighs. With a gentle touch, he slid his fingers along her slit, feeling the slickness of her arousal. Eunbi's legs quivered as he found her clit, his touch sending a wave of pleasure through her body. She threw her head back, moaning uncontrollably as he began to tease her, his movements slow and deliberate.

Minju watched, her eyes glued to the scene before her. She had never seen Eunbi like this, so open and wanton, and it was a powerful aphrodisiac. She could feel her own arousal growing, her panties dampening as she watched Mr. Y/N's hand work its magic on her friend. The sound of Eunbi's moans filled the room, mingling with the music and their own breathless whispers.

Eunbi's eyes fluttered closed, her breath coming in short gasps as Mr. Y/N's fingers danced over her clit. She could feel the pressure building, the tension in her body growing tighter and tighter. With every stroke, she grew wetter, her body begging for release.

"Please keep going, I need to cum," she said, her voice a desperate whisper. Mr. Y/N's eyes never left hers, his own desire clear in their depths. He increased his pace, his thumb rubbing her clit in firm circles that made her hips buck and her legs shake. The pleasure was intense, almost painful in its intensity, but she didn't want it to stop.

Minju watched, her own hand slipping under her dress to mimic his movements. She was so turned on by the sight of her friend's pleasure that she couldn't help but join in, her own breath coming in pants as she touched herself. "You're so close," she murmured, her voice a mix of envy and excitement. "Let it go, Eunbi."

Mr. Y/N's eyes never left Eunbi's, his fingers moving faster, pressing harder against her swollen clit. She whimpered, her body tightening around him as she approached the edge. "Ahh, ahh, I'm going to—" she gasped, her voice trailing off as the orgasm hit her like a wave, crashing over her with a force that made her legs give out.

Her juices spurted out, a geyser of passion that soaked Mr. Y/N's hand and arm, spraying onto Minju's dress in an explosion of pure ecstasy. Minju's eyes widened in shock, and then a wicked grin spread across her face as she took in the sight. Eunbi's body convulsed, her orgasm so powerful that she couldn't help but squirt, her fluids painting a pattern on the floor as she rode the waves of pleasure.

"I told you, she is a better squirter," Minju said, her voice filled with a mix of pride and satisfaction. Mr. Y/N looked up at her, his hand still buried in Eunbi's pussy, his fingers coated in her cum. He couldn't help but laugh, the sound deep and rumbling, the tension in the room finally breaking.

Minju took the moment to stand, her own dress feeling uncomfortably wet against her skin. She reached behind her, unzipping the fabric with an ease that came from years of performing. The dress pooled around her feet, leaving her in nothing but her damp lingerie. She stepped out of the material, her eyes never leaving Eunbi's face, watching the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through her.

"Looks like Eunbi had a little accident," Mr. Y/N said with a smirk, gesturing to Minju's soaked underwear.

Minju giggled, feeling the warmth of her friend's cum seep through the fabric and onto her skin. "Guess it's only fair," she said, her voice playful as she began to strip. She slid her panties down her legs, stepping out of them with a dramatic flair. She was now as bare as Eunbi, their friendship stripped down to its rawest form.

"Now, Mr. Y/N," Minju said, her voice husky with anticipation, "I dare you to show Eunbi how skilled your mouth truly is."

Mr. Y/N took a moment to set his champagne flute aside, the clink of the glass punctuating the heavy silence. He looked at Eunbi, who was still recovering from her powerful orgasm, her cheeks flushed and eyes half-lidded with pleasure. She nodded, her voice a soft whimper of consent. He stood up, his movements deliberate and predatory as he approached her.

Minju watched with rapt attention, her own breath hitching as she anticipated the moment. She knew what was coming, had seen it in her own encounters with him. She reached down and began to stroke her own clit, eager to feel the echoes of her friend's pleasure.

Mr. Y/N knelt before Eunbi, her trembling legs parted wide to accommodate him. He leaned in, his breath hot against her skin as he whispered, "You're so beautiful, Eunbi."

The words sent a shiver down her spine, and she gasped as he licked along her slit, savoring the taste of her. Her hips bucked upward, seeking more of his mouth. "Ahh, Y/N," she moaned, her voice a desperate plea. "More, please."

Minju's eyes were glued to the sight, her own hand working faster between her legs as she watched. The way his tongue moved, the way he sucked on her clit—it was mesmerizing. She had never seen anyone enjoy themselves so thoroughly, so unabashedly, and it was turning her on more than she had ever been. She felt a strange kinship with Eunbi in that moment, a bond formed by shared desire and the thrill of the forbidden.

Eunbi's moans grew louder, filling the room with the sweet sound of pleasure. Her body was a canvas of sensation, every nerve ending alight with the strokes and licks of Mr. Y/N's mouth. "Ahh, Y/N," she cried out, her voice ragged and desperate. "Don't stop, don't ever stop."

Mr. Y/N's eyes flicked up to Minju, the challenge in them unmistakable. With a wicked smile, he pulled away from Eunbi's pussy, her squirt spraying up and outwards like a geyser of lust. It arced through the air, landing on Minju's thighs, chest, and even her face. The sight was obscene and thrilling, and Minju couldn't help but let out a soft gasp of arousal.

Eunbi's eyes grew wide as she watched Minju's reaction, the reality of the situation setting in. But before she could say anything, Minju's own orgasm washed over her. She threw her head back, her body convulsing as her juices spurted out, mirroring Eunbi's earlier climax. The room was a symphony of wet sounds, a testament to the intensity of their shared desire.

Mr. Y/N took this moment to pull out his phone, the screen lighting up his face as he began to record. The sight of the two women, both trembling and breathless, their bodies slick with desire, was one he knew he'd want to savor later. The act was almost voyeuristic, but the way they were looking at each other—with a mix of friendship, love, and lust—was too compelling to ignore.

"Record us, Y/N," Minju said, her voice still breathless from her own orgasm. She spread her legs wider, her clenched pussy glistening in the dim light of the room. Eunbi followed suit, her own pussy quivering with anticipation.

Mr. Y/N didn't need to be told twice. He aimed his phone at them, the camera capturing every detail of their bodies as they began to pleasure themselves. "Ahh, yes," Minju moaned, her hand moving in slow circles over her clit. Eunbi watched, her eyes wide and hungry, as Minju's fingers dipped inside herself, coating her digits in her own juices.

The sound of their wetness filled the air, a symphony of desire that grew louder as their movements grew more frantic. "Ahh, Eunbi, look at me," Minju gasped, her eyes locking with hers. "I want to watch you cum again."

Eunbi's cheeks flushed, but she didn't look away. Instead, she spread her legs wider, her own hand joining Minju's in the intimate dance. They touched themselves in unison, their moans growing louder as they watched each other. It was a display of raw, unfiltered passion that neither of them had ever shared with anyone before.

Mr. Y/N's own arousal was clear as he recorded, his voice low and gruff. "So fucking sexy," he murmured, his eyes flicking between the two of them. "Keep going, don't stop."

Their hands moved faster, their breath coming in ragged pants as they approached the edge once more. "Ahh, ahh, I'm going to cum," Eunbi whimpered, her eyes never leaving Minju's. "I'm going to squirt again."

Minju nodded, her own orgasm building. "Do it," she urged, her voice strained. "I want to feel it."

And with that, they both let go. Their bodies tensed, their muscles tightening as they reached their peak. Eunbi's cum shot out, a thick stream that hit Mr. Y/N's chest and face. He grunted, the surprise only adding to his excitement as he continued to film.

Minju watched, her eyes wide, as Eunbi's pussy spasmed and her fluids painted Mr. Y/N. She felt her own orgasm crest, her pussy clenching around her fingers. "Ahh, Eunbi, I'm coming," she screamed, her cum joining Eunbi's in the mess on the floor.

The room was a blur of pleasure, the scent of sex heavy in the air. They came together, their bodies shaking with the force of their climaxes. And through it all, Mr. Y/N's camera never stopped rolling, capturing every moment of their shared ecstasy.

As their breathing began to slow, Mr. Y/N lowered the phone, his own arousal clear as he wiped Eunbi's cum from his cheek. "Well, that was... unexpected," he said, his voice a mix of amusement and lust.

Minju and Eunbi looked at each other, the tension in the room now a tangible thing. They had crossed a line, and there was no going back. But as they sat there, naked and spent, something had changed between them. The silent rivalry was gone, replaced by a newfound understanding—a bond that was now as sexual as it was friendship.

They shared a look that spoke volumes, a look that said, "We've shared something incredible, and nothing will ever be the same." And with that, the night took a turn that none of them could have ever predicted, as Mr. Y/N set the phone aside and joined them, his own desire too great to ignore any longer.

"Stand up, Eunbi," he said, his voice gruff with need. He gently took her by the hand, helping her to her unsteady feet. Her legs trembled as she rose, the aftershocks of her orgasm still pulsing through her. She was naked and exposed, but she didn't feel vulnerable—instead, she felt powerful, like she was on the brink of something incredible.

Eunbi stood in front of Minju, her pussy facing Minju's face. Y/n started undressing himself and stood in front of Eunbi. His penis was right at her entrance, ready to enter.

"Just watch her pussy and tell me what do you see," Y/N ordered, his eyes never leaving Minju's.

Minju leaned in, her nose almost touching Eunbi's sensitive flesh. "It's so wet," she murmured, her eyes wide with fascination. "And it's opening up for you, Y/N. It's like it's begging for you."

Eunbi moaned, the sound deep and guttural. She couldn't believe she was doing this—letting Mr. Y/N fuck her in front of her best friend. But the alcohol and the heat of the moment had loosened her inhibitions, and she found herself craving more of his touch.

Mr. Y/N's cock slid into Eunbi, filling her completely. She gasped, her eyes rolling back in her head as the sensation overwhelmed her. "It's tightening around you," Minju said, her voice a breathy whisper. "It's like a velvet vice, isn't it?"

Y/N groaned in agreement, his hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm. He watched as Minju leaned in closer, her tongue darting out to lick the juices that coated Eunbi's inner thighs.

Eunbi's eyes fluttered open, and she looked down at her friend. There was something in Minju's gaze that was both hungry and reassuring. It was as if she was giving her permission to let go, to fully embrace the moment. And so she did, her moans growing louder as Y/N's thrusts grew deeper.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by Eunbi's cries of pleasure. "Her pussy is getting wetter," Minju said, her voice thick with desire. "It's gripping you so tight, Y/N. You're going to make her squirt again."

Y/N picked up his pace, his movements becoming more urgent as he chased Eunbi's next orgasm. She threw her head back, her long hair cascading down her back, her body a picture of absolute surrender to the pleasure he was giving her.

"Look at her, Y/N," Minju said, her voice filled with awe. "Look how much she's enjoying this."

Y/N met Minju's eyes, and for a brief moment, it was as if they were the only two people in the room. The connection between them was palpable, a silent understanding that this was more than just a celebration—it was a declaration of their desires, a revelation of the depth of their bond.

He leaned in, his mouth claiming Eunbi's in a deep, passionate kiss as he continued to fuck her. Her body responded immediately, her pussy tightening around his cock as she moaned into his mouth.

"Squirt for me, Eunbi," Y/N growled, his voice thick with desire. "I want to feel you let go all over Minju's face."

Eunbi's eyes went wide with surprise, but she felt a thrill at his command. She had never felt so alive, so wanted. She nodded, her breath coming in short gasps as she focused on the sensation building inside her.

With a final, powerful thrust, Y/N pulled out, his cock glistening with her cum. Eunbi's body quivered, her pussy clenching as she tried to hold back the flood of pleasure that was about to be unleashed.

"Now," he said, his voice low and authoritative.

Eunbi closed her eyes and let go, her pussy spasming as she squirted, the force of her climax propelling her fluids through the air. Minju leaned back, her eyes wide as she watched the arc of Eunbi's cum, a perfect line aimed straight at her face.

The warm liquid hit her cheeks and nose, the scent of it filling her nostrils as it slid down her chin. She couldn't help but open her mouth, her tongue darting out to catch a droplet. It was salty and sweet, a taste she had never experienced before.

"Ahh, so good," Eunbi murmured when her squirting finally stopped, her legs trembling as she leaned against Y/N for support. She felt alive, more alive than she had ever felt before.

Minju sat there, her face and chest now a canvas of Eunbi's passion. She licked her lips, savoring the taste of her friend's desire. "Wow," she said, her voice filled with wonder. "That was incredible."

Y/N looked down at Eunbi, his eyes searching hers. "What do you want, Eunbi?" he asked, his voice gruff with need. "What do you truly desire?"

Eunbi's breath hitched, the words she was about to say feeling both thrilling and terrifying. But there was no turning back now. "Make me squirt again," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. "And put your seed in me."

Y/N's eyes darkened, his desire for her clear. He didn't hesitate, guiding her down to the floor, her body sinking into the plush carpet. She lay there, legs spread wide, her body open and exposed, as he positioned himself between her thighs.

"Put your pussy in her mouth, Minju," he said, his voice a command that sent a shiver down Minju's spine. She looked up at Eunbi, her eyes questioning. But Eunbi's gaze was filled with a hunger that Minju had never seen before. She nodded, and without another word, she leaned down and pressed her pussy against Eunbi's eager mouth.

The moment their lips met, the room seemed to spin. Minju felt a rush of pleasure that was both new and familiar as Eunbi's tongue slid between her folds. She moaned, her hips bucking involuntarily as her friend tasted her for the first time. Eunbi's eyes were closed, her expression one of pure bliss as she licked and sucked, exploring every inch of Minju's pussy.

Meanwhile, Y/N positioned himself behind Eunbi, his cock pressing against her entrance. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and full of lust. "Ready?" he asked, his voice a low growl.

"Yes," she moaned, her eyes never leaving Minju's. "Do it."

With one powerful thrust, he was inside her, filling her up completely. Eunbi's moan was muffled by Minju's pussy, but the vibrations sent waves of pleasure through both women. They were a tangle of limbs and desire, their bodies moving in perfect harmony as they gave and received pleasure.

Minju could feel every stroke of Y/N's cock inside Eunbi, the way her muscles tightened and released around him. It was as if she was experiencing the sensation herself, a strange and erotic echo of their shared intimacy.

"Oh, fuck," she shouted, her voice bouncing off the walls. "It feels like heaven in Eunbi's mouth!"

Eunbi's eyes fluttered closed, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked harder on Minju's clit. She could feel her own orgasm building again, the sensation of Y/N's cock pounding into her from behind only making it more intense.

Y/N watched them, his own climax approaching. He reached down, grabbing Eunbi's hips as he drove into her, his eyes never leaving Minju's. "You like watching me fuck her?" he asked, his voice a dark whisper.

Minju nodded, her own hand sliding down to her clit. "Yes," she gasped. "It's so hot."

Y/N's grip on Eunbi's hips tightened, his strokes growing faster. "And what about when I cum inside her?" he asked, his eyes challenging.

Minju's eyes went wide, but she didn't protest. Instead, she nodded again, her breath coming in shallow pants. "Do it," she said. "Make her scream."

The words were like a trigger, and with one final, powerful thrust, Y/N reached his peak. He roared as he filled Eunbi's pussy with his cum, the sensation sending her over the edge as well. Her body convulsed around him, her mouth releasing Minju's clit with a pop.

Minju's eyes rolled back in her head as she felt the orgasm build within her. "Oh, Eunbi," she moaned, her voice tight with pleasure. "It's going to happen, I'm going to squirt."

Eunbi's mouth remained firmly on her pussy, her tongue working in earnest to bring Minju to the brink. She could feel the tension in her best friend's body, the way her muscles tightened and her hips bucked against her face. It was an intoxicating power, one she had never experienced before.

"It's coming," Minju panted, her hand gripping Eunbi's hair. "It's like...like a dam breaking. So much pressure and then—ahh!"

Her body spasmed, and with a gush of wetness, she squirted into Eunbi's eager mouth. The sensation was indescribable—like a warm, wet explosion of pure ecstasy that flooded through her. She watched as Eunbi's cheeks bulged, her eyes watering from the sheer force of it.

"It's so intense," Minju murmured, her voice strained. "It's like my body is releasing all this pent-up pleasure in one go."

Eunbi swallowed, her own desire spiking at the sight. She had never seen Minju like this, so raw and uninhibited. It was beautiful and erotic in a way she had never imagined.

"Keep going," Y/N urged, his own arousal evident in his voice. "I want to feel you both come together."

Minju leaned down, her mouth finding Eunbi's as they kissed, sharing the taste of each other's pleasure. Their bodies were slick with sweat and cum, their hearts racing in tandem as they approached their next climax.

Y/N's cock was still hard, still demanding release. He positioned himself behind Minju, his hand guiding his shaft to her tight entrance. "I'm going to fill you up," he growled, his eyes on hers.

Minju nodded, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Do it," she whispered. "I want to feel you in me while Eunbi's mouth is full of me."

With one swift motion, he slammed into her, making her cry out against Eunbi's lips. The feeling was overwhelming—his cock stretching her, Eunbi's tongue still teasing her clit, and the warmth of her own cum coating her skin.

Their bodies moved together in a dance of lust, their moans and gasps echoing through the apartment. The air was thick with the scent of sex, a potent reminder of their shared desire.

Y/N began to fuck Eunbi with a fervor that was both fierce and tender. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she moaned uncontrollably, her tongue never leaving Minju's pussy. Minju watched in awe, her voice a breathy stream of consciousness. "Look at you," she whispered, her voice a mix of amazement and arousal. "Your pussy is taking him in so beautifully, Eunbi."

Eunbi's hips rocked back to meet his thrusts, her body moving in perfect sync with his. Her tongue continued to swirl and dart, exploring every inch of Minju's sensitive flesh. "Ahh, oh my god," Minju moaned, her eyes half-closed. "You're so good at this."

Eunbi's moans grew louder as she felt Y/N's cock hit her g-spot with each thrust. The pressure was building again, her orgasm threatening to consume her. "Minju, I'm gonna...I'm gonna..." she managed to gasp out, her eyes pleading.

Minju, still riding the wave of her own pleasure, nodded understandingly. She pulled away from Eunbi's mouth, the connection between them breaking with a wet pop. They watched each other, panting and trembling, their bodies coated in a sheen of sweat and arousal. "Do it," Minju urged, her voice thick with desire. "Cum with me."

And as if on cue, their bodies responded. Eunbi's pussy tightened around Y/N's cock, her muscles contracting in a delicious spasm. Minju's own climax began to build again, her clit pulsing with need. Y/N's eyes never left hers as he quickened his pace, pushing them both to the brink.

With a final, guttural moan, Eunbi let go. Her pussy clenched around him, her juices spurting into the air like a fountain. At the same time, Minju's orgasm crested, her cum spraying out in an arc that mirrored Eunbi's. The room was bathed in their shared ecstasy, the scent of sex and desire heavy in the air.

The sight was too much for Y/N to bear, and with a roar, he reached his own climax. He pulled out, his cock pulsing as he painted their bodies with his cum, adding to the mess they had already created.

For a moment, they just lay there, tangled together on the floor. The only sound was their ragged breathing, the only sensation the sticky warmth that covered their skin. They had crossed a line, but in that moment, nothing had ever felt more right.

But the night was far from over. Before Eunbi could even begin to process the intensity of what had just happened, she felt Mr. Y/N's cock hardening against her backside. She looked up at Minju, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and excitement.

"Again," Y/N murmured, his hand sliding down her body to her still-throbbing pussy. "I want to feel you come apart on me one more time."

Without a word, Eunbi nodded, her body already responding to his touch. He positioned himself behind her, his cock pressing against her entrance as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. "You're mine now, Eunbi. Every part of you."

Minju watched, her own desire rekindling as she saw the raw need in her manager's eyes. She reached out, her hand sliding over Eunbi's stomach as Y/N pushed inside her again. The sensation was intense, the feeling of his cock filling her up anew making Eunbi whimper with pleasure.

His strokes were deep and purposeful, his hips driving into her with a force that was almost brutal. She could feel every inch of him, his length sliding along her g-spot with a precision that had her seeing stars. "Ahh, yes," she moaned, her voice high and needy. "Y/N, harder."

Y/N complied, his grip on her hips tightening as he claimed her body once more. His eyes were locked on Minju's, the silent communication between them only adding to the eroticism of the moment. "Look at her," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Look how much she wants it."

Minju's hand slid lower, her fingers finding Eunbi's clit as she began to rub in time with Y/N's thrusts. "Come for us," she whispered, her voice a seductive purr. "Let us feel you squirt again."

The pressure was building, a storm of pleasure that was threatening to consume Eunbi. She threw her head back, her eyes squeezed shut as she gave in to the sensation. "Ahh, fuck, I'm going to..."

With one final, powerful thrust, Y/N spilled his seed into her womb. Eunbi's body tightened around him, her pussy pulsing with her own orgasm as he filled her up. It was a moment of pure, unbridled ecstasy that seemed to go on forever.

As they lay there, their bodies entwined and their hearts racing, Minju leaned in and kissed Eunbi softly. "You were amazing," she murmured, her voice full of affection and desire.

Eunbi's eyes fluttered open, her gaze meeting Minju's. "So were you," she whispered back, a small smile playing on her lips.

Their bodies lay spent on the floor, a tangled mess of limbs and discarded clothing. The room was still, the only sound the soft, heavy breaths they shared. Minju's hand was resting on Eunbi's stomach, feeling the gentle rise and fall with each inhale and exhale. The stickiness between her thighs was a reminder of the intense moments that had just passed, a sensation that was both foreign and incredibly erotic.

Suddenly, something stirred within her, a new desire unfurling its petals. She pushed herself up, her muscles protesting slightly from the exertion of the night. Her eyes locked onto Eunbi's pussy, still glistening and swollen from the relentless pleasure it had been given. Without a word, she moved on all fours, her body graceful and feline as she approached her friend's exposed flesh.

"Wow," she murmured, her voice thick with wonder. "Y/N's seed is so much, it's flooding." She leaned closer, her nose touching the sticky mess that coated Eunbi's inner thighs. The scent of their mingled arousal was intoxicating, a heady aroma that seemed to fill every corner of the room.

Y/N chuckled, his chest heaving from his recent exertion. He positioned himself behind Minju, his cock still semi-hard from the intense fucking he had just given Eunbi. "Ready?" he asked, his voice low and gruff.

"Yes," Minju said, her voice steady despite the racing of her heart. She turned to Eunbi, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Let's keep going.”

#kpop smut #girl group smut #gg smut #male reader #eunbi smut #minju smut #izone smut #izone minju smut

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singmyaubade · 9 months ago

Text

the greatest heist

james potter x female!reader

summary: when james's girlfriend decides to fuck with you, your only other choice is to fuck with her.

warnings: eventual smut! 18+ heavy angst, cursing, wearing, jealousy

a/n: this story was an OLD draft and i kind of wanted to finish it so yeah. i hope you enjoy and as always, i apologize if you hate this!

part 1 | part 2

THE sun peeked through the curtains of your dorm room, casting a warm glow that made your bed feel like the most comfortable place in all of Hogwarts.

You groaned as you felt someone shaking your bed, a voice calling out urgently.

"Y/N!” They yelled again, the bed shaking more forcefully.

“For fuck’s sake!" you mumbled, sitting up and squinting against the bright light. "What do you want?”

"Wake up!" Dorcas stood there, clearly annoyed. “We have astronomy in two minutes!”

That definitely jolted you awake.

You practically leaped out of bed, catching sight of Dorcas rushing to button her shirt. “Fuck!” you exclaimed, quickly slipping into your tights and skirt.

“Why did nobody wake us up?” you asked, frustration bubbling as you glanced at your roommates. It was a mix of annoyance at them and yourself.

“Bloody fucking twats,” Dorcas muttered. “I’m going to stick my wand so far up their arse once I get to that tower.”

“Count me in,” you replied, hurriedly putting on your shoes—still not fully laced—and adjusting your tie.

You grabbed your book bag. “Come on!” Dorcas urged, already heading for the door.

You both practically ran to the stairs, unready for the most strenuous workout of your life. You both huffed in frustration as the stairs moved.

You looked up at the seemingly endless flights of stairs, frustration boiling over. "These stairs are a fucking safety hazard," You hissed. "Do they not care if we die?"

Dorcas crossed her arms, panting slightly. “Dumbledore is definitely getting my letter of complaints,” She ranted. “I mean, I understand we’re young wizards and witches, but Merlin, are these stairs really bloody necessary?”

You chuckled as the stairs set in place and you both rushed to the top quickly.

You both huffed, clearly out of breath as you both pressed on, each step feeling like a small victory.

With a force of urgency, you opened the door to your Astronomy class as the entire class turned their heads to you. You could hear several students snickering, specifically the Slytherins as you flipped them off.

Professor Adair turned to you both with a sigh. “Nice to see you, ladies. May I gift one of you a watch for Christmas?” He asked sarcastically, prompting a few snickers from the class.

Desperately trying to catch your breath, you replied, “Apologies, Professor. I’m afraid my alarm didn’t go off.” You quickly took your seat next to Sirius, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

“Mine too!" Dorcas argued, "And to be fair, I mean this class is pretty high.” She moved next to Dorcas.

Professor Adair rolled his eyes, continuing with the class with a mutter about the two of you.

“You know,” Sirius leaned into you, “If you need a proper alarm-“ He slyly said, hand almost touching your thigh.

You stomped on his leg as he groaned, touching the injured limb.

“Note taken.” He hissed.

You smirked as you started writing down a note in your notebook which you made into a paper plane, flying it over to Lily.

She looked at you hesitantly, opening it.

Why did you not wake me or Dorcas up?

She looked at you, looking confused as the angry look on your face never faded. She began writing down her response which she sent to you.

Emma told us all that she would wake you both up and when she came to Astronomy, she said she did.

A fuse blew inside of you, of course Emma was behind this. It makes sense that she would be the one to do it considering how she treated your entire friend group.

For context, Emma was all of your supposed “best friend” which would be a fine label if she didn’t sabotage anyone who she thought was a threat.

At first, she considered Lily a threat because of how much others loved her especially James Potter. So instead of asking Lily to put a good word in for her with the others and James, she started spreading horrid rumors about her.

And everyone being cruel teenagers believed her, berating her wherever she went.

It took the entire girl group and the Marauders to make people back off and debunk these rumors.

Although you and the rest of the girls knew that Emma had done this, she had gaslighted Lily into thinking that it was obviously some bitter Slytherin that were jealous instead of her and eventually, the situation turned boring and died down into nothing.

But that wasn't even the end.

Soon after, she considered Mary a threat due to how smart and confident she was and decided to get her absolutely hammered before OWL'S.

And it caused her to get a poor score which resulted in her not leaving her bed for weeks.

But again, Mary had blamed herself and told everyone that it was "her stupid decision" that led to this.

After that, it had been Marlene.

Then suddenly, it had been Dorcas.

And now you were clearly her new target for what reason? Merlin knows.

The only reason she didn't wake Dorcas up was because she knew she couldn't single you out. Emma knew you disliked her from the moment you met her and you weren't as nice about it.

Now, you may not know why she was targeting you at the present moment but the boy in front of you laughing with Remus could've been a huge clue.

James Potter.

Golden Boy, Heart-throbber, Fit, Kind, Funny, Brave, Determined, Bold.. I mean did you really have to go on?

The man that Emma had been in love with for years and had been dating for the present moment.

And not only was no girl allowed to approach James without dealing with Emma but she would pay hell for even making eyes at him.

Unfortunately for you, James had been struggling a bit for charms and enlisted your help in studying. At first, you had gave him a 'fuck no' before moving in order to not get his girlfriends wrath but when he pleaded and begged,

You forfeited.

You were hoping that he would keep it a secret but James being the dumbass he is mentioned how much of a good time it was to the entire group, Emma grew as red as a tomato.

You mentally cursed James, knowing that your life was already going to become a living hell.

Fortunately, you kept most stuff to yourself and never confided in Emma with anything.

There was nothing that Emma could do to incriminate you with but you just knew that she wouldn't back down and there was nothing you could do.

You did do your best to keep away from her but Lily couldn't stop hanging out with her which made the rest of your group completely vulnerable.

At the same time, you couldn't blame Lily for being so gullible and kind-hearted but it made her a pushover and Emma could guilt trip her way out of anything.

So if Emma was going to play this game, you were alone.

And you had to be the best player.

The bell chimed, bring you out of thought as you began packing up.

Emma came over to you, "Y/N! I'm so sorry that I didn't try harder to wake you and Dorcas." She hummed, "I thought you were fully up by time the time I left." She faked a sincere smile.

"Yeah Emma, I think it would be best if you never enlist yourself to such a task again, I'm afraid it requires a bit more of a brain hmm?" You sweetly said, leaving the conversation as she scowled towards you.

You rushed over to Remus, "Remus, please tell me you have the notes for this class." You pouted, grabbing ahold of his arm.

"Of course." He told you, beginning to grab his notebook out of his book-bag.

"Thank you so much," You gratefully said as you began walking with them.

"Wait, why didn't you ask me?" Sirius asked, pouting.

You let out a snort, "Have you seen your handwriting?" You derided as James and Peter laughed.

Sirius fake sniffled, "One day Y/N, you will appreciate my beauty and brains." Sirius dramatically hair flipped.

"You know there's nothing up there." James said, knocking on Sirius's head as Sirius swatted his hand.

You rolled your eyes as Remus handed over his notebook to which you thanked him with a kiss on his cheek.

"Hey! Wheres mine?" Peter asked, "I gave you the notes for potions."

You rolled your eyes again, giving Peter a peck on the cheek as well.

Your eyes locked onto Sirius, already knowing what he was gonna say, "Well, you just insulted me, I think you owe me one." Sirius said, tapping his cheek.

You clenched your jaw, pecking his cheek quickly as he grinned from ear to ear.

"Wait where's mine?" James asked as your eyes widened, "Don't wanna be left out," He fake sniffled.

"Your girlfriend will quite literally harvest my organs." You scarily said, putting the notebook in your bag.

"It's just a kiss on the cheek!" He argued as the whole group shook their head.

"Mate, I'm going to have to agree with her on this one," Sirius patted James on the back, "She will bloody kill Y/N and us for letting it happen." Sirius said.

There was a rumble of protest in his throat but a part of him knew that you both were right. He didn't want you to be faced with the fire on Emma based on his actions.

"Fine, guess you guys are right," He muttered as he dragged his feet.

You groaned, reaching over to James and pecking him on the cheek as he grinned.

“Everyone's been kissed now,” you sighed, your voice trailing off in frustration. “Can we just—” But before you could finish, a sharp voice sliced through the air.

“Y/N!” Emma screeched, her anger prominent as the group recoiled, hissing in surprise. She stormed toward you, her face flushed with rage.

You were begging Merlin that she hadn't seen the peck you gave to James.

“Did you just kiss my boyfriend?” She laughed harshly, her grip tightening on James's arm as he shot you an apologetic look, guilt written all over his face.

“Oh, maybe it was Sirius instead?” You quipped, trying to deflect with a joke, but Peter’s snort only deepened the tension.

“Real clever,” Emma shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she stepped closer, invading your space. “A good friend wouldn’t do that, Y/N. I don’t take betrayal lightly.” Her tone was sharp, a warning laced within it.

You matched her intensity, moving closer until your breaths mingled as you spoke, “And I don’t take threats lightly.”

“Okay, let’s all just calm down!” Sirius intervened, wrapping an arm around your waist while James did the same to Emma, but the heat between you and Emma crackled like a campfire, neither of you backing down.

“It was just a peck, sweetheart,” James cooed, wrapping an arm around Emma as you rolled your eyes, arms crossed in disbelief.

Emma pouted, “You know how protective I get about you.” She nestled into his chest, and the sight made your stomach churn.

“I know, baby,” he said with a smile, holding her close, while the rest of the Marauders looked on, barely able to stomach the scene unfolding before them.

“As entertaining as this little drama is, I need to get ready for the party tonight,” you announced, desperate for an escape.

"The party isn't until tonight!" Peter said, confused.

"Mentally prepare!" You joked.

“Wait!” Emma’s voice pierced through your thoughts just as you turned to leave, and you sighed, bracing yourself for her next act.

Her expression shifted, all sweetness now. “I’m sorry for misreading things with James,” She said, feigning concern. “I know you’ve never had a boyfriend,” She added, her tone dripping with condescension. “But, you can get a bit... jealous. But we’re friends, right? So I shouldn’t act like that.”

You clicked your tongue, suppressing the urge to roll your eyes even harder.

“And as your friend,” She whispered, pulling you into a tight hug, “I just want to warn you. If you so much as talk to James at the Gryffindor party tonight, I’ll make your life a living hell.”

She released you, her smile wide and disingenuous, and before you could even muster a response, she skipped back to James, leaving you fuming.

Fury coursed through your veins as her words echoed in your mind, the unfairness of it all burning like a fire inside you.

Ever since Emma had walked into your life, she had fucked with everything around you.

Your friends, your reputations, your social life, hell even your sanity.

And if nobody else was gonna put a stop to her.

You guess it would have to be you.

-----------

Are you really ready to wage war with her?” Dorcas chimed in from the closet, her tone skeptical.

“Dorc,” You began, frustration creeping into your voice. “Emma has been terrorizing us since third year. Are you seriously going to tell me that taking her down doesn’t sound appealing?”

She sighed, contemplating. “Okay, fine, you’ve got a point. But how exactly are you planning to take her on?”

A sly smirk crept across your face as you revealed the outfit you’d picked: a black corset paired with the shortest black skirt you could find, topped off with fishnets. Dorcas’s jaw dropped sarcastically. “So, you’re going to out-dress her?” She asked, incredulous.

“No,” You replied, rolling your eyes. “I’m going to use her worst fear against her. I’m going to seduce James.”

Dorcas nearly choked. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Listen, I would never usually even consider looking at another girl’s boyfriend, but this is different. James is the one thing that will shatter her, and honestly, it sounds cruel, but so is she!” You shot back, your resolve hardening.

“And if she tells the whole school what you’re doing, you’ll look like a homewrecker and be exiled,” Dorcas countered.

“Which is why it has to look like it’s all James’s idea,” You insisted, undeterred. “He’s been my friend since childhood; it’ll look innocent.”

“I don’t think this idea is as foolproof as you think,” Dorcas muttered, slipping into her red dress with an exasperated sigh.

“Dorc, trust me, she can’t hurt me,” You reassured her, the fire in your belly fueling your confidence.

“Well, if everything goes south,” Dorcas said with a reluctant smile, “I’ve got your back.”

You beamed at her. “What would I do without you?”

Just then, a loud bang echoed on your door. “Hurry up before all the firewhiskey is gone!” Marlene called, her voice a mix of urgency and excitement.

You and Dorcas shared a laugh, gathering your belongings and heading down to the common room, adrenaline buzzing in the air as you prepared to face the chaos of the night ahead.

The lively atmosphere of the common room was a familiar backdrop for you all; it felt like there was always a party, whether an event warranted it or not. You, Marlene, and Dorcas scanned the room and spotted your usual crew gathered around the couch. With a burst of energy, you hopped right next to James.

His eyes widened in surprise as he took in your outfit, but before he could say anything, Sirius swooped in.

“Y/N, have I ever told you how much I’m attracted to you?” He drawled, causing you to snort.

“Eyes off, Black,” You shot back playfully, just as Marlene whacked him with a pillow.

“Why do I even try?” He lamented, sinking dramatically into his chair.

Marlene grinned mischievously. “You know, I’d sleep with you, Black.”

Sirius’s eyes went wide. “Really?”

“Yeah, if you pay me and wear a cloak,” She teased, sending the group into fits of laughter.

Sirius scowled at Marlene while Lily pinched his cheeks, only for him to swat her hands away with a playful glare.

“You do look good, Y/N,” James murmured, his voice sincere.

You turned to him, arching an eyebrow. “Now what did I do to deserve a compliment from James Potter?”

He chuckled softly. “Well, after what I put you through this morning, I think you deserve more than just a compliment.”

“Speaking of this morning,” you leaned in closer, lowering your voice, “Where’s your girlfriend?”

James shrugged, a hint of frustration flickering across his face. “We got into a fight after you left. I tried to talk to her about her manners,” he said, his tone casual but the weight behind his words was clear.

“But you guys were literally snuggling when I left,” You laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, well, that was before I realized how messed up her behavior was. Jus'... embarrassing, you know?” He gulped down his drink, and you couldn’t help but notice the guilt etched on his face.

It twisted your heart, seeing him upset. James was your best friend, and the thought of anyone hurting him made your stomach churn.

You hated seeing him like this, torn between loyalty and the flaws of the person he cared for. It felt like a heavy weight was pressing down on both of you, and all you wanted was to lift it.

"Well," You spoke as he looked at you, "If you want me to forgive you, I think a dance would do," You said, standing up and extending a hand to him.

A goofy smile plastered on his face, James said, "Anything for M’lady’s forgiveness."

You scrunched your nose at his corniness as he took your hand and led you onto the dance floor. He twirled you around, making you giggle before pulling you back in to sway together.

"You’re such a dork," You snickered.

"And how many years have I proven that to you?" He shot back, laughter in his voice as you rested your head on his shoulder.

His fingertips grazed your back while you swayed, and he whispered in your ear, "I miss us hanging out."

Outside of Charms tutoring and classes, you never got to see James and it always hurt you. You both knew why you couldn’t and voicing it would only make it worse.

But it had been hard not having a proper hangout with just the both of you since third year.

You felt warmth spread through you, flustered. "I miss hanging out with you too."

Looking at him, you noticed how beautiful he looked—his messy hair and that infectious grin. There was always a gleam in his eye, and everything about him radiated warmth. It felt like summer when you were together, and butterflies filled your stomach.

You knew he was just your best friend, nothing more. And that would always be the truth, as long as you told yourself that.

Suddenly, James twirled you again, but this time you spun out of his grip and fell onto the suddenly slippery floor.

You fell with a hiss, "Shit!" you moaned, wincing in pain as James rushed over with the rest of the group, the crowd parting to give you space.

"What the fuck happened?" Sirius asked, concern etched on his face.

"I don't know!" James replied, kneeling beside you. "She just slipped!"

You hissed as you tried to stand on your sprained ankle.

"Let me see," James muttered, inspecting your foot as you groaned.

"Maybe it's her leg," Marlene added.

"Well duh," Sirius shot back, earning a playful hit from Marlene.

"Can we just get her to Pomfrey?" Lily huffed, and the boys nodded in agreement.

Sirius tried to rush over to you, but James waved him off. "I got her," he said, lifting you bridal-style.

You winced at the jolt to your ankle, nuzzling into his neck as you caught a glimpse of Emma in the back of the room, her expression burning with rage.

You knew then that the games were just beginning.

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dahlibae · 5 days ago

Text

OUR ETERNAL SUNSHINE

wandanat x female!reader 🌞 𐙚₊˚⊹♡

summary – you finally receive an invitation to wanda’s and meet her very tall, very scary, yet very pretty wife…

warning(s) – none: little angst, dom/sub dynamic, little obedience demo, wanda has you on your knees :3

word count – 3.2K

Ch.1 | CHAPTER 2 – SATURN RETURNS

Wanda didn’t show up at the library the next weekend.

No surprise visit. No hidden smirk from behind the romance shelves. No lingering fingertips brushing over spines of old hardbacks she knew you had organise in that section for her to find.

She didn’t even text, like she said she would.

By Saturday afternoon, you'd stopped checking your phone every few minutes.

By Sunday evening, you’d stopped pretending not to care.

It wasn’t like she made promises. Not in so many words. But she’d looked at you like she meant everything she said. She tried to kiss you like you were something important to her – like this wasn’t just a fascination or a distraction.

But maybe that’s all it was.

You should’ve known better. Should’ve seen it coming. Of course the older, beautiful lawyer with an also beautiful wife wouldn’t stick around. Of course she’d disappear the moment reality creeps back in.

It’s not like that.

Sure.

That’s what they always say – right before they make you feel stupid for believing in them at all.

You tried not to dwell on it. Tried to focus on your studies, current reads, perfecting the art of making your usual iced coffee to help you through the average day, and avoiding contact with Shuri, who kept giving you these long, knowing looks but never pressed.

Still, even with your laptop open in front of you and a paper deadline creeping up, you couldn’t concentrate.

Not really.

So when your phone buzzed quietly around 11:58 p.m. – just as you were about to shut your laptop for the night – you didn’t expect much.

But then you saw the name lighting up your screen.

Wanda.

Just her name. No emojis. No preview of the message.

Your heart stuttered before your fingers moved.

You opened it.

Wanda: Hey. Sorry for going quiet. Hope you’re not mad.

You hesitated a moment before replying.

You: Not mad. Just confused.

A few minutes later, her response came.

Wanda: I know. I wanted to reach out sooner. Things got hectic at work. And… well, it’s complicated.

You smiled at the honesty.

You: Complicated’s been the theme lately.

Her reply came almost instantly.

Wanda: True. But I keep thinking about the last time I saw you. And how easy it felt to just talk with you. Be with you.

You typed carefully.

You: It did.

Wanda: So… if you’re free this weekend, I’d like you to come over. Natasha and I would love to have you.

You felt the familiar flutter but kept your cool.

You: That sounds nice. I’ll let you know soon.

Wanda: Okay. No rush. Just wanted you to know the invite’s open.

You smiled softly, feeling the distance between you shrink, even if just a little.

…

Soon enough, it's Saturday again. Your apartment smells faintly of citrus and lavender, a lingering mix from Shuri’s candle, burning low on the kitchen counter, and these ‘calming teas’ you’ve been drinking since the morning. You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, half-dressed, fingers fidgeting with the hem of a blouse that you’ve already decided probably won’t work.

Your gaze drifts toward the wardrobe, an open canvas of options that somehow all feel wrong.

A black dress? Too formal.

Jeans and a nice top? Maybe too casual.

You pull a soft blue sweater over your head, then tug it off again, frustration tightening your chest.

Shuri strolls into the room, balancing a plate of fried plantains and grinning like she’s just won a small victory.

“Okay, first rule,” she announces, dropping the plate on your nightstand, “no panicking. You’re not going to some boring networking event where people stare at their phones pretending to listen.”

You give her a weak smile, but your nerves won’t settle.

“I know,” you mutter. “But it’s… Wanda’s house. And there’s Natasha. And I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

Shuri sits next to you, shoving a piece of plantain into her mouth. “You’re not gonna mess up. Besides, you have actual charm. Unlike me.”

You laugh softly. “To be honest, tonight wouldn’t be happening if you did’t invite me to your brothers.”

She shrugs with mock innocence. “What can I say, I'm a natural cupid. Now, what do you want to wear? The dress is nice but not very casual dinner – oh! What about those flared jeans, you know with the –”

You interrupt. “I don’t want to overdress or underdress. What’s the vibe do you think?”

Shuri pretends to think. “Honestly? Knowing Wanda, she’s probably dress up all ‘serious lawyer who could school you in two seconds but is secretly a softie with a pair of fluffy socks on.’ So… somewhere between ‘classy’ and dash of ‘casual badass.’ As for Natasha… you're a lost cause.”

You groan. “Thanks, that helps a lot.”

She laughs, nudging you playfully. “Hey, I’m trying to lighten the mood here! You just need to get out your head.”

You grab a pair of dark jeans and the white blouse she mentioned, deciding on comfort over trying too hard.

Shuri gives you an approving nod.

“Good call. You look good in white. It’ll contrast with Natasha’s brooding vibe.”

You stare at your reflection again, fingers smoothing the fabric.

The room falls silent for a moment.

“Do you think Wanda’s worried I’ll be awkward?” You ask quietly, fixing your gold hoops that somehow tangled in your curls.

Shuri shakes her head. “If she is, she’ll hide it well. Wanda’s smart. She knows you’re nervous about all of this.”

You sit back, taking a deep breath.

Your phone buzzes – a message.

Wanda: Car’s on its way. No need to stress. Just be yourself.

You show Shuri, who grins.

“See? She’s got you, girl.”

Your nerves flutter again, but this time there’s a thread of excitement, too.

She knows me too well for a woman I've only known over the past month or so.

Shuri stands, grabbing your jacket for you. “Alright, it’s time, you got this! When you’re done playing mistress, text me. I want all the debriefs.”

You laugh, standing and smoothing your blouse one last time. “Thanks, Shuri.”

She winks. “Anytime, girl. Now go get ‘em.”

Outside, the car pulls up in front of your building, sleek and black with tinted windows. You take one last glance in the mirror, steady your breath, and head out.

…

Turns out their house wasn’t as far from yours as you expected… but still quite not your area. The car seemed to glide through the steady streets, city lights blurring softly against the windows. You had watched the world pass by – familiar corners giving way to neighborhoods you’ve never visited.

Wanda’s message earlier echoed in your mind: No need to stress. Just be yourself.

You breathe it in, steady your nerves.

The car pulls up in front of a sleek townhouse – modern in design, yet undeniably warm. Large windows glow softly in the low light, framed by trimmed hedges and a modest garden that’s clearly well cared for. The kind of detail that whispers of someone's constant attention.

Wanda’s, of course.

She had mentioned once – in passing, almost shyly – that she enjoys gardening when she can. Said there’s something grounding about tending to things so small and fragile, watching them slowly take root, stretch, and bloom into something beautiful. Something alive and of her creation because she loved it enough.

The thought warmed your cheeks.

You step out, heart skipping just a bit, as you tread lightly up the stairs, careful of each step.

The door opens almost immediately. No need for you to knock as Wanda’s been waiting since she last messaged you. She’s dressed casually – thank God – in a soft brown sweater and jeans, her smile welcoming.

“Hey.” She whispers.

“Hi.” You reply at the same level.

Behind her, the tall woman with deep red hair stands just inside the doorway.

She watches you carefully, but Wanda steps aside, blocking her view briefly.

“Come in.” Wanda ushers, already reaching for your jacket to hang respectfully by the door.

She turns, “This is my wife, Natasha.”

Green eyes meets yours, giving nothing away, and you nod, offering a simple smile, and shy wave. “Nice to meet you, Mrs Maximoff.”

Natasha’s voice is gentle but reserved. “You too.”

You've only just noticed the low murmur of jazz music further beyond the entryway. And as you’re lead inside, the space feels much more intimate – filled with personal touches, framed photographs, stacks of what seems to be personal law journals reside in a massive bookcase all up one wall.

Wanda gestures toward the living room. “Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you something to drink?”

You hesitate, then say, “Actually, water would be great, thanks.”

Wanda nods without missing a beat. “Coming right up.”

She slips away toward the kitchen, leaving you alone with Natasha in the softly lit living room. You sense her sharp eyes assessing you quietly yet openly as you settle onto the edge of the couch.

“So,” she says, voice calm but unmistakably blunt, “Wanda’s told me a bit about you.”

You nod, unsure how to respond.

“I’m glad she invited you tonight,” she continues. “I've been dying to know about the little thing that’s had my wife so… distracted for the past month.”

You swallow hard, the nerves tightening again, butterflies seem to be hammering in your head.

“Oh.”

She watches you carefully, eyes unblinking. “Hm, but to be honest, I was expecting more.”

Before you can reply, Wanda returns carrying a tall glass of water. She sets it gently on the coffee table close to you – next to two glasses of almot finished red wine – and immediately notices the startling tension between you and Natasha.

Her eyes narrow slightly.

“Natasha,” she says, a firm edge in her voice. “Don’t scare her off.”

The redhead shrugs, unfazed. “I’m just being honest with her. Better now than later.”

Wanda shoots you an apologetic look. “Don’t mind her. She’s just… direct.”

You manage a small smile, grabbing the cold glass, and taking a careful sip – more like gulp – of water, feeling caught between two very different worlds.

Clearly, Natasha didn't like you or the idea of you… hanging with Wanda.

You laugh awkwardly, “yeah – that’s…okay…”

Natasha laughs at your clear discomfort, “Oh Wanda, look at her. Such a nervous little thing.”

Wanda’s decided to ignore her wife, her eyes meeting yours, calm but intense. “Sweetheart, the reason we invited you here tonight is because there’s something important we want to talk about. To ask you.”

She adds: “It’s going to sound… strange, but please try to listen with an open mind.”

You nod, your heart picking up it’s pace again.

You don’t think it’s slowed since stepping through the door.

She folds her hands in her lap. “Natasha and I have this dynamic. A partnership built on trust, boundaries, and control. It’s part of who we are.”

You swallow. The words resonate in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

Wanda leans forward, her gaze remaining steady and warm amongst the changing emotions on your face. “We’re married. We love each other. Deeply. But we both require… certain things we’re unable to give one another.”

Natasha adds on, “we enjoy engaging in what’s known as BDSM – consenual, kinky sex if you will. But we are both dominant, and sometimes, we are unable to fulfil what the other needs because of that…”

You gaze back to Wanda, uncertainty now in her eyes, but Natasha continues, “in simpler words, my wife wants to be able to bend someone over her knee and I am, unfortunately, unable to do that.”

Wanda lightly hits her arm, jumping back in as she notices your overwhelming blush at the image Natasha has just implemented in your head, “anyways… yes, in a sense, Natasha is right… I’ve missed having a connection, a relationship, with someone who’s submissive. Someone who would allow me to take care of them. It’s not just physical. There’s an emotional side, a lifestyle element to this. It’s important that you understand that.”

She adds, “It’s important because I want this with you. To be a part of this – in this relationship, this lifestyle. I want you.”

There’s no rush, no pressure in her voice. Just an invitation.

Always just an invitation.

“But… what about Natasha?” You ask, surprising yourself that it’s the first time you’ve said her name tonight.

“Natasha is okay with this. She understands this is what I need and has given me permission to explore this with you – if you want. And you’d be mostly mine, but… you would belong to both of us.”

You nod slowly, the idea a little thrilling and intimidating all at once – definitely not what you expected.

Definitely not from Natasha.

Wanda smiles gently. “Right now, we want to take this slow. Talk openly. Learn together. Build that kind of trust. And if you’re willing, this could be something very special.”

You hesitate, then blurt out, “Wait – how do you even know I’m like that? What if I’m a… dominant like you both.”

Natasha smirks, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Oh, please. The moment you spotted Wanda on my arm at T’Challa’s, you were practically crying – like a lost puppy without it’s Mommy.”

Wanda shoots her a sharp look. “Natalia. Behave.”

“Oh look, it already begins.” You hear the redhead sigh under her breath, looking away as she subtly fidgets in her seat.

You take a deep breath, your voice quieter now. “I’ve never done this before. Or even had a relationship, really.”

Their expressions soften instantly.

Wanda reaches out, placing a hand gently on yours. “That’s okay. Everything will be at your pace. No expectations. Just honesty.”

You fight the urge to rest your hand over hers, “But why would you want that? Want me? Surely you’d want someone that knows they can be all… submissive for you.”

Wanda’s hand doesn’t move from yours.

“No, not necessarily. That just means there’s no bad habits to unlearn.”

Her voice is gentle, but something behind her eyes is steady, grounded.

Reassuring.

The redhead tunes in again: “If there's one thing you need to know about Wanda is that she loves to teach. To guide her little playthings. If anything it's better you're inexperienced, because then she can mold you in her own shape. Own image.”

You turn towards her, “oh… well, yes. That makes sense I guess.”

And she leans back in her chair, arms no longer crossed.

“What matters most to us is that you want this. That you’re curious, and willing to communicate. To trust us. We don’t need experience. We need honesty.”

You nod slowly, absorbing every word.

“I’m curious,” you admit, voice soft. “And I trust you, Wanda. I just… I don’t want to mess anything up.”

“You won’t,” Wanda says immediately, with a certainty that steadies something inside you. “This isn’t about performance. We’re not going to leave just because you mess up. We’re going to learn together, okay?”

Natasha adds, “And when it comes to messing up? That’s what communication is for. If you’re overwhelmed, you say so. If you’re unsure, we slow down. No part of this works unless you feel safe in it.”

There’s a long moment of quiet.

You glance down at the hand Wanda still has resting over yours.

It feels natural settled over yours.

“How about I show you a little?” She asks.

You glance up. “Show me what?”

She shifts, sitting forward now. Her tone doesn’t change, but it deepens – subtly, like a shield of privacy meant just for you, just as it did in the library.

“A demonstration. Nothing sexual. Just… a glimpse of what obedience looks like. What I would expect. What it feels like to give up control to me.”

Your breath catches slightly. Not from fear. From how calmly she says it. From how gently she offers something so commanding. From how it’s unsettled you within.

You hesitate, glancing once towards Natasha.

The redhead is still leaning back, quiet but clearly listening. “Only if you want to,” she adds. “You set the boundary. You say stop, and it stops.”

You swallow. “Okay.”

Wanda’s eyes soften. “I’ll walk you through everything. All I want you to do is follow my instructions. That’s all.”

You nod slowly.

Wanda stands and offers you her hand – not to lead, not to pull, just to guide.

You take it.

She walks you gently into the center of the room and stops. You’re standing in front of her now, unsure where to look, heart fluttering wild like a small animal in your chest.

“Close your eyes.” She says softly.

You do.

“Take a deep breath.”

You do that too.

“Now, lift your hand and tell me what you feel.”

Something soft tickles your fingertips, silky and smooth.

You can immediately tell it's her hair.

“Your hair.” You say.

She giggles, “I noticed you staring at it all those times in the library. Do you like it?”

You nod. “Yes, it’s very pretty.”

“Thank you, sweet girl.”

You immediately warm at the praise, the urge to fidget even worse.

“Now I want you to kneel.”

You pause – but only for a second. Then, carefully, untangle yourself from her curls, lowering yourself down onto your knees, palms resting on your thighs instinctively.

The carpet is soft beneath you.

The silence thicker now.

“Good girl,” she murmurs. “Now, just stay like that. Keep your breathing steady. Stay as still as you can.”

Her voice is calm, layered with quiet authority. You feel her steps circling you slowly, though she doesn’t touch you. It’s just her presence – warm, patient, observant.

“You’re doing very well, darling.” She says after a long pause. “Remember this isn’t about humiliation. Or performance. It’s about presence. Stillness. Trust.”

You nod faintly, still not opening your eyes.

“I expect obedience. I expect you to be good for me. But I also give clarity. Structure. Care,” she continues. “I don’t want your submission out of fear. I want it because you choose it. Because something in you finds peace in letting go.”

You feel a gentle hand trace along the natural parting of your curls.

“In letting me take care of you.” She whispers, somehow closer to you than before. You can practically feel her lips ghost against the skin of your cheek.

You feel the words settle into your skin.

And you notice, there’s finally a strange quiet.

Not just in the room, but in you.

She stops behind you, voice low for your ears only: “If you ever feel overwhelmed, you speak. If something doesn’t feel right, you stop it. And I will listen. That is part of the agreement. Always. You hold all the power.”

You nod once, slowly, your heart slowing to a steadier rhythm.

“Do you understand?” She asks.

“Yes.” Is all you can say, but that’s enough for the blonde.

“You can open your eyes.”

You do.

Wanda is standing just a few feet in front of you, her expression soft and kind. Natasha hasn’t moved – you notice in the corner of your eyes. She’s just watching. Breathing deep.

Wanda offers her hand again. This time, she helps you up.

You stand. Not dizzy, not flustered, just centred.

“How do you feel?” She asks softly.

You think about it. Then you answer truthfully:

“Good.”

Wanda smiles.

And something about this smile tells you that no matter how uncertain you are with this future, you just took your first real step onto it.

And you’re willing to try.

For her.

#dahlibae fics! ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #eternal sunshine au 🌞#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff

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